I read a lot of blogs. Some of them more closely than others.
But my RSS reader sucks down stuff on a huge variety of topics: blogs about children and childcare, blogs about weaving, blogs about the law, tech blogs, political blogs, science blogs, linguistics, commentary, writing.
And, of course, the religious blogs. Kemetics, heathens, witches, magicians, Baptists, Mormons, Jews, Church of England….
I worry, sometimes, about my communities. I go to slacktivist and get extensive sets of links to matters of social justice, politics, concern about the ascendancy of conservative Christianity, critique of the public construct of religion, and a whole lot of other food for thought; I visit Richard Beck (who I linked to back in June) I find discussions of prison ministry, of the perils of complementarianism, of the theology in karaoke, of the nature of power and the nature of evil; I go to the Velveteen Rabbi and find questions of how to properly live the values of the week’s reading, wrestling with forgiveness and family and despair and truth and the nature of holy land.
I find a lot of stuff that’s real, and vital, and while it’s rooted in one religious tradition or another speaks to the human experience, human needs. And these people often link to other people doing some of the same substantial work, wrestling with their religion and with the world like Jacob wrestling with the angel at the ford.
I commented a while back that the more actually religious I get, the better I get at doing religion, the more the gods send me away. The more I am told to heal the ancestors, to understand the nature of power and of evil, to demonstrate that Opet actually means something in the world by organising a community to do charitable work, to think about what my devotions actually mean in terms of politics and society. And the more my mysticism deepens, the more I pay attention to holy mother death and other things about the patterns of death and life and the great breaths of the year. And these are not separate and separable things, the chiaroscuro of time and the need to understand the shape of presence within the world rather than separation from it.
In the end I worry, sometimes, about transcendentalists.