
You understand so little of what is around you
because you do not use what is within you
Hildegard of Bingen, 1098 – 1179, German Benedictine abbess and polymath, writer, composer, philosopher and medical practitioner
I thought of happiness how it is woven
Out of the silence in the empty house each day,
And how it is not sudden and it is not given
But is creation itself like the growth of a tree.
No one has seen it happen, but inside the bark
Another circle is growing in the expanding ring.
No one has heard the root go deeper in the dark,
But the tree is lifted by this inward work,
And its plumes shine, and its leaves are glittering.
So happiness is woven out of the peace of hours,
And strikes its roots deep in the house alone.
May Sarton, The work of Happiness [extract]
The Celts believed that the feast of Samhain, November 1st – halfway between the autumn equinox and the winter solstice – marked the start of the second, darker half of the year, where different energies and themes predominate.
In order to arrive at the second half of life, one has to realize there is an incurable wound at the heart of everything. Much of the conflict from the age of twenty-five to sixty-five is just trying to figure this out and then to truly accept it.
A Swiss theologian, Hans Urs Von Balthasar, said toward the end of his life: “All great thought springs from a conflict between two eventual insights: 1) The wound which we find at the heart of everything is finally incurable. 2) Yet we are necessarily and still driven to try.”
Our largely unsuccessful efforts of the first half of life are themselves the training ground for all virtue . This “wound at the heart of life” shows itself in many ways, but your holding and “suffering” of this tragic wound, your persistent but failed attempts to heal it, your final surrender to it, will ironically make you into a wise and holy person. It will make you patient, loving, hopeful, expansive, faithful, and compassionate – which is precisely the second half of life wisdom.
Richard Rohr, Loving the Two Halves of Life: The Further Journey
Today is All Souls Day and November was traditionally a time of remembering those who have gone before us.
Once a monk made a request of Joshu.
“I have just entered the monastery,” he said. “Please give me instructions, Master.”
Joshu said, “Have you had your breakfast?”
“Yes, I have,” replied the monk.
“Then,” said Joshu, “wash your bowl.”
The monk had an insight.
I love this koan. I am the student in the midst of my life, waiting for life to happen. I am the teacher pointing to this latte on my desk. I am the bowl that needs washing and the breakfast already eaten. How do we enter our life fully? It is right here. How do we want to live? Can we allow all the joys and sorrows to enliven us? Or do we just go along with all our patterns and habits? People who are dying always remind me: ‘I can’t believe I wasn’t here for most of my life.‘ That’s one of the most common things I hear, and the biggest regrets. Many people have not inhabited their life because they’re just waiting for other moments. Are we waiting for life to happen in the midst of life? How can we give ourselves fully to our lives, moment to moment? Don’t wait. Life is always right here.
Koshin Paley Ellison, Co-Founder of the New York Zen Center for Contemplative Care