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To Live as a Flower

2012-04-29T13:32:44Z

So, finally the end has come. Exhausted, I have fallen to the ground and it is only a matter of time before I will lay rotting within its moist soil. My life was brief and filled with toil; I knew only service and the comings and goings of so many who took what little I had and gave it to others. I am spent, I am dried up, I am useless now. My sisters bend down and see my plight and weep for me. Yet they will soon join me. They know this. Such is the life of a flower.

One thing remains a Mystery, and the Mystery itself is what fills me with wonder. There are large creatures, "humans" they are called, who see us differently than we see ourselves. Some of them study us. Us! Simple little flowers! There are thousands of us here in this garden, the only home I have ever known. They say we serve a great and glorious purpose, they talk of a strange thing called "pollination" and say without us the continuity of life would be broken. What? I could not even begin to comprehend what they were talking about. They must be mad.

But this is the thing, this is the amazing thing. In their madness, these human beings simply love us for what we are. They say we are exquisite, they say we possess such beauty that it brings great joy and happiness to them. They write poetry about us, they gaze at us lovingly and touch us gingerly, delicately, with great reverence. They do not cringe but close their eyes and smile as small blossoms from the trees float on the wind to kiss their faces. Some of my sisters were taken into the large structures they call their "homes" where I heard they were pampered and admired. They no longer toiled but, alas, they too soon died. There is no escaping our fate.

I cannot help but think, as I pass from this existence, that I do not have an understanding of what I truly am. Is it important for me to know? No, I think not. I have done my job and I have done it well without questioning. No need to question now. It will soon be over and my sisters, my beloved sisters, will follow in due time. That, along with the Mystery, gives me great comfort as I take my leave.

"What to the bee in nature is merely colour and scent, and the marks or spots which show the right track to the honey, is to the human heart beauty and joy untrammelled by necessity. They bring a love letter to the heart written in many-coloured inks.

However busy our active nature outwardly may be, she has a secret chamber within the heart where she comes and goes freely, without any design whatsoever. There the fire of her workshop is transformed into the lamps of a festival, the noise of her factory is heard like music. The iron chain of cause and effect sounds heavily outside in nature, but in the human heart its unalloyed delight seems to sound, as it were, like the golden strings of a harp."

Rabindranath Tagore

from Sadhana: The Realisation of Life

Accepting the Unacceptable

2012-02-26T14:44:16Z

A CNN broadcast stopped me in my tracks one evening last week as I walked through the den on my way to put away laundry. Appalling images from Syria were on the screen, images from a country in turmoil where, in a scenario that has plagued mankind since the beginning of time, individuals with power were attempting to keep it by visiting violence on the disenfranchised.

I do not know the exact location or names or dates or how the tragedy unfolded exactly. The need to know details evaporated as I became riveted to the screen, watching something horrible unfold before my eyes. There was a two year old boy dying, mortally wounded from a recent attack. His chest heaved violently, struggling for breath. There was a doctor there, grief stricken and angry that he could do nothing for the child. He waved his arms and ranted in Arabic, decrying a government that would perpetrate such violence upon its people; his rage evident and justifiable. The child's grandmother wailed and wrung her hands and shook her head; her agony heart wrenching. The scene was almost too unbearable to watch yet how could I look away? Why would I not bear witness to this suffering, to keep myself in a good mood and safely distanced from pain?

So, I dazedly sat myself and my stack of laundry down on a chair and continued to watch. What touched me most, what took my heart completely and continues to haunt me was what the boy's father did in the face of this unspeakably horrific situation. He cradled his son gently, oblivious to the ranting doctor, oblivious to the wailing grandmother, oblivious to the television reporters and cameras. He was with his son as he was dying, he was present and focused on staying with him until the end. His large weathered hands gingerly patted him with an exquisite almost other worldly tenderness as he whispered what I can only imagine were words of comfort to the child.

That night in Syria a two year old boy succumbed to his injuries but he did not die alone because his father had the courage to accept the unacceptable. That night in Syria a heartbroken father stayed present without wavering in his suddenly tragic life and put love first.

When Darkness Descends

2012-01-22T14:47:00Z

Doom. Gloom. Darkness has descended and the world has lost its color. Your world is black and white. It is either all good or all bad and today Bad has smacked you in the face and stands sneering at you, glaring. Even the will to struggle seems to have evaporated.

What to do?

Do nothing.

I know, that seems like rotten advice but bear with me. By saying "do nothing" I don't mean to imply you should slink off into a corner, lick your wounds and sink into your despair like an unsuspecting ant who has wandered onto quicksand. Slinking and licking and wandering are somethings. I mean do nothing. Notice what happens when you do nothing. Your eyes continue to blink, your organs continue to function, your breathing continues in and out, in and out. The earth continues to revolve around the sun, the stars continue to appear in the heavens, the whole cosmos goes about its mysterious business without any regard for your stinky mood. Stay here and keep noticing. There is an undercurrent here, a gentle pull that you might miss at first it is so undemanding. Contrasted with the loud strident voice of your pissy mood, it is easy to miss. But I guarantee you it is here. You don't feel it? That's because today is not your day to feel it, not because it isn't there. Struggling to find it will not work. Become absolutely still. Concentrate on your breathing. In and out. In and out.

Boring! Yes, I know. But do it anyway. Notice your breath. Count each one if you like. If a thought intrudes allow it to pass then just come back to the counting. Start over if you lose your place. One. Two. Three. But my life sucks! One. Two. Three. Four. Five. This is just stupid! One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Over and over and over. You won't give up. Oh, maybe today you might give up and go back to the fun of wallowing in despair. But you will be back, mark my words. You will be back because you know your salvation lies somewhere in the silence. You know it not because you read it here, you just know it. You have always known it. It's only a matter of time now.

Darkness comes not to pull you into an abyss but to show you the value of light. The problem always comes with the seeds of the solution and the seeds are cultivated and nourished in the silence.

Go. Now.

A Note to First Time Meditators:

There have been many books written on meditation. There are seminars, intensives, retreats to sign up for. There are rules everywhere. Legs in this posture. Hands like this. Hold your head in this position and your spine in that. Eyes open. Eyes closed. While certainly not harmful, be clear that these rules are mere stage props. Do what feels right to you. There is nothing more important than the willingness to show up, the earnest desire to find your way home to yourself. If you like the idea of prayer begin with a simple one such as "Please show me the way to happiness" and then just be silent and trust the process. Let go of any notion you may have had about what it should look like or how you should feel. Let the discipline to show up be the only effort you expend. The rest will take care of itself.

My Life as a Swinger

2011-12-14T19:11:00Z

Dust flew as my feet hit the ground. The dragging motion every time I reached the well worn middle slowed me down until it was safe to jump off. Mom had called me in for supper or my best friend wanted to play with me on the seesaw or it was getting dark-- for any of a number of reasons the swing always had to slow and stop so I could run on to other things.

I took such great joy in swinging when I was a child! My sturdy little legs pushing off, pumping and pumping, arms extended, head tilted back with the wind rushing through my hair, my toes tautly pointing to go higher, higher until I almost felt as though I could set myself in orbit around the swing set. But the backward motion always followed the forward motion, the lows always followed the highs and the swing, eventually, always had to slow to a stop.

My legs are still sturdy-- thick ankles, big calves. I'm built more like a work horse than a race horse, much to the chagrin of my inner princess. Life has changed, though, since my playground days. The journey has become a bit more complicated than the one between the playground and the supper table, and the swing I ride these days is entirely inside my head. Ups and downs, good days, bad days, highs and lows are all characterized as such by my own discernments, by a capricious inner judge, by an internal mental analytical service I must have signed up for sometime after I left the playground.

For years the internal swinging was wild and crazy. Up one day, down the next, my mind would unfailingly and insistently tell me where I was-- in a good place, in a bad place, with the right person, with the wrong person, on the right path, on the wrong path. Not only that, there would always be this constant side commentary about what should be and what shouldn't be, about what was fair and what was unfair, how people should treat me and how they shouldn't treat me. It was exhausting, all this analysis, not to mention confusing because there were often conflicting thoughts. I bravely persisted for many years but eventually I became so tired, so overwhelmed by it all that my internal swing slowed down. It slowed way down. The clinical term for it was depression and I entered an entirely different phase of my life, one which my mind sought to characterize as hopeless. Yet I was getting sick, literally, of all the stuff my mind was telling me.

There are gifts inherent in depression that we don't see when it first descends. Depression is a sane reaction to an insane world, a drawing down of the mind's awesome ability to call the shots. Oh, it still asserts itself. It tells you things like life is not worth living, things will never get better, and it uses the word failure a lot. For a while I bought into all of that and then I started noticing that some of the mind's last ditch attempts to maintain control didn't quite ring true. In fact, some of it was downright ridiculous. Sadly, it had never occurred to me to question my own thinking processes before. The minute it did, the tables began to turn. Hey, wait just a minute! How could there be nothing to live for when these three extraordinary children of mine, with their boundless enthusiasm, show me life in all its wonder day after day after day? All I had to do was pay attention. My children, with their beautiful beginner's minds, saved me. They continue to save me. One questioned thought led to another and soon I was in the business of baloney detection and my mental operating system was undergoing a dramatic and life enhancing upgrade.

These days the swing has slowed down to a gentle sway back and forth. This diminished movement reduces blur and enables me to see things more clearly and appreciate life as never before. The wild highs have been replaced by simple contentments which are far more fulfilling. The despairing lows matured into the grace of acceptance.

Life is not always easy. Life is not always kind. Eventually and inevitably life is taken from us entirely. Until that day I intend to make my best effort to choose happiness when a choice is offered (which is almost always) and practice my ability to accept adverse circumstance when it is not. Author Karen Maezen Miller, in her book Momma Zen, says it best:

"Happy matters most of all. And here's the surprise ending. You don't have to wait for happiness because there's no time but now to be happy.You don't have to go somewhere else because there's no place but here to find it. You don't have to do something else because there's nothing more to it. You don't have to get something else, because everything you already have is enough. You just have to be happy."

Simple, yet not always so easy in practice. But we have to do just that. Practice.

On the Sweet Where You Live

2011-10-10T14:18:58Z

People are sweet. I don't mean just the obviously kind, helpful and loving people, I mean all people. Beneath all the posturing, all the positionality, all the sticky icky stuff and habits that might indicate otherwise, people are just downright sweet. Now, granted, you can encounter some very finely crafted disguises out there and often some hastily constructed smokescreens. People go to great lengths to hide their sweetness. But I have seen it and I know. At the root of the root, in the heart of the heart, in the soul of the soul, an outrageous sweetness resides in the essential core of every human being. Every human being.

I have not met every human being, of course. It just occurs to me that if one or two or three of us have this sweetness, then all of us do. It only makes sense. The human blueprint would have to be fairly consistent in its essential elements, wouldn't it? So, I keep my eyes open. Sweetness is not always easy to spot. But every once in a while, like a bolt of lightening illuminating the darkened landscape, you see a furtive display. Once you've tasted it you're a junkie, looking for sweetness everywhere and often in the most unlikely places. Why? Because you know it has to be there. When you see it, you smile. When you don't see it, you look for it. If you still can't find it you lay in wait, you keep the faith and you know, you just know, it will reveal itself to you when the time is right.