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Good morning, good people. I led a practice this morning for one of the communities I'm a part of and I don't think it quite landed. Sometimes you gotta break a few eggs, make an omelette. So I thought I would try it again, share it with, Contemplify and see if it rings true for anyone. It's on. Recording this on a voice memo, so the quality probably won't be as high as the usual interviews, but it helps me do it on the fly. So hope you enjoy it here in the heart of adventure. Blessed darkness, blessed light to you all this Advent season. I want to begin here with a brief on ramp to what I would invite you to hold in silence afterwards by saying that I love the Western Christian liturgical calendar. These seasons anchor and expand me into earthy membership with the mystical Body of Christ. I confess here and now to you that I also have my own additional non liturgical liturgical calendar in addition to the Christian liturgical calendar. I believe I am the only one who follows it. And today, December 11th is the start of my non liturgical liturgical calendar year. It begins, like I said today, December 11, with the birthday of a poet that vivifies my soul, Jim Harrison. It ends, of course, on December 10, on the anniversary of the death of the mystic that most directly pierces my heart. Thomas Burton, the life well lived, the life that calls to me, begins with the attentive eyes and soul of a poet and ends with the boundless heart of a mystic. I have a photo of the poet Jim Harrison hanging over my desk as a reminder, and right next to him is Thomas Burton. Jim Harrison was a complicated man, certainly not admirable in all his ways. He was a bit of a John the Baptist type. His advice was much like John the Baptist, Harrison said that somebody has to stay outside. Now, what's strange about that, if you remember, contemplify listeners, an author said that to me when I asked a question at their book reading. They brought up this quote. Another friend sent me that quote this week. And there's something to this. Somebody has to stay outside. Somebody has to stay outside of empire. In Father Richard Rohr's book the Tears of Things, he says that John the Baptist is an unfinished prophet staying outside a camp, outside the center to critique the artificial religious consciousness of the day, in touch with a righteous anger, but maybe not fully in touch, as his work was to prepare an alternative way, the way of Jesus without ever being able to fully embrace that way. Jesus follows John outside the camp, but then fully models and invites an alternative way, both internally and externally. By returning to the edge of the inside, healing and teaching in the margins, praying in the wilderness, and only going to the center when forced. As I stand in the confluence of my personal liturgical calendar and this season of Advent, I hope we all move outside the center of empire consciousness. That we see, like John the Baptist and Jim Harrison, all that is busted and broken and speak to it poetically and prophetically, but that we also don't stop with just words, that we digest the anger, grieve what is, and let it seed generative, generative love with our hands and then with waking eyes, pray in the mountains, reside in the margins in bumpy solidarity with the shared woundedness of this Christ soaked world, allowing our hearts to break open even wider like a. Excuse me. Like a liturgical calendar, this is a cyclical process I move through repeatedly. So in the midst of empire, Advent prepares us to step outside to welcome Jesus. Advent prepares us for the birth of the Word in our own souls. So my invitation to you today is to step outside and immerse yourself in this Christ soaked world and then join in the ceaseless flow from outside to inside. May my wounds, our wounds, this planet's wounds, open doorways to the mystical heart. This is just a little Advent musing as you steep in the darkness, waiting for the light. May Advent be rich and true and true your heart to the birth of the Word in your soul. Sa.
Episode: Stay Outside (or Non-Liturgical Liturgical Calendar Musing)
Host: Paul Swanson
Date: December 12, 2025
In this contemplative solo reflection, Paul Swanson explores the concept of creating a personal, "non-liturgical liturgical calendar," and what it means to live on the "outside"—at the edges of community and empire—during the Advent season. Through poetic insight, personal musings, and references to spiritual and literary figures, Swanson invites listeners to re-examine their relationship with established traditions, the edge of cultural or religious systems, and the transformative potential of Advent.
Swanson expresses appreciation for the Western Christian liturgical calendar, highlighting how its rhythm anchors him in "earthy membership with the mystical Body of Christ."
He confesses to having created his own "non-liturgical liturgical calendar," a personal cycle separate from official tradition.
"I believe I am the only one who follows it." (01:28)
Paul's personal calendar begins on December 11, the birthday of poet Jim Harrison, and ends on December 10, the anniversary of the death of mystic Thomas Merton.
These two figures, a poet and a mystic, serve as spiritual bookends and models for how Paul seeks to live: with the "attentive eyes and soul of a poet" and the "boundless heart of a mystic."
"The life well lived...begins with the attentive eyes and soul of a poet and ends with the boundless heart of a mystic." (02:20)
Paul shares his affinity for Jim Harrison, noting his complexity and invoking his comparison to John the Baptist—"somebody has to stay outside."
This theme of “staying outside” recurs, as Paul notes multiple occasions where this idea returned to him—through an author at a book reading, and a friend who shared the Harrison quote that same week.
"Somebody has to stay outside. Somebody has to stay outside of empire." (03:39)
Drawing on Richard Rohr’s "Tears of Things," Swanson reflects on John the Baptist as an "unfinished prophet" who remains outside the camp to critique the religious consciousness of his day.
John’s role is not to fully embrace the new way, but to "prepare an alternative way."
"John the Baptist is an unfinished prophet staying outside a camp, outside the center to critique the artificial religious consciousness of the day..." (04:23)
Swanson describes how Jesus continues John’s outsider tradition but also models a new way of living both internally and externally. Jesus brings healing from the margins and only ventures to the center "when forced."
This model becomes an invitation for listeners to examine their own relationship to power, center, and edges, especially in the Advent context.
"Jesus follows John outside the camp, but then fully models and invites an alternative way...by returning to the edge of the inside..." (04:52)
Paul calls for movement outside the "empire consciousness" prevalent at the center, urging listeners to see suffering and brokenness with poetic and prophetic eyes.
He encourages not just speaking about suffering, but digesting and transforming grief and anger into "generative love."
"...don't stop with just words, that we digest the anger, grieve what is, and let it seed generative, generative love with our hands..." (05:48)
The heart of the episode is an invitation: step outside, immerse yourself in the "Christ-soaked world," and participate in the "ceaseless flow from outside to inside."
"May my wounds, our wounds, this planet's wounds, open doorways to the mystical heart." (07:05)
Paul closes with a poetic Advent blessing, encouraging listeners to let the darkness of Advent deepen their openness to the birth of the Word in the soul.
"May Advent be rich and true and true your heart to the birth of the Word in your soul." (07:38)
The episode is deeply poetic, heartfelt, and grounded in humility. With a blend of humor, reverence for tradition, and openness to creative practice, Paul Swanson models a contemplative approach to Advent that is both rooted and radically hospitable to the margins. Listeners are invited not just to think differently about spiritual seasons, but to live and love from the edge—outside empire, in solidarity with the wounds of the world, and open to the mystery of Christ’s birth within.
Recommended: Listen with a “pint in hand,” as Contemplify is “best served” (in Paul’s playful words) for those ready to engage the contemplative journey with both seriousness and joy.