Just one obligation

We are born with only one obligation – to be completely who we are. Yet how much of our time is spent comparing ourselves to others, dead and alive? This is encouraged as necessary in the pursuit of excellence. Yet a flower in its excellence does not yearn to be a fish, and a fish in its unmanaged elegance does not long to be a tiger. But we humans find ourselves always falling into the dream of another life. Or we secretly aspire to the fortune or fame of people we don’t really know. When feeling badly about ourselves, we often try on other skins rather than understand and care for our own. Yet when we compare ourselves to others, we see neither ourselves nor those we look up to. We only experience the tension of comparing, as if there is only one ounce of being to feed all our hungers.

Mark Nepo, The Book Of Awakening

At ease where we are…

When we learn to be where we are, we gain perspective on life. Yesterday loses its hold on us and tomorrow loses its allure. Where we are becomes the ground of our salvation, the reason for our joy and the acme of our salvation…..Mindfulness calms the storms of life and gives them meaning. [It] makes the present, present and gives us back the energy that endless worry and countless calculation drain. It concentrates what has become scattered and brings us home to ourselves.

Joan Chittister, Wisdom Distilled from the Daily

….in the ordinary moments of this life.

Today’s society encourages the idea that our lives need to be full of activity and excitement for them to be significant. However, today’s celebration reminds us that it is in the ordinary that the deepest meaning can be found, in the small hidden village not the vibrant main city, in the ordinary gestures now not the special once-off occasions sometime somewhere else. Our lives too are made up of moments,  giving us opportunities for care and attention here and now, in the reality of our lives, not in some future imagined moment.

The more complicated our lives are, the more important it is to live in the present moment — otherwise we’ll miss much of our lives. Mindful parenting is about moment-to-moment, open-hearted and non-judgmental attention. It’s about seeing our children as they are, not as we want them to be. It means you become less attached to outcomes and more mindful of what’s unfolding in your life. As a parent, you can’t withdraw to a cave to meditate. It’s all about now. When you tune into the breath and sensations in the body, you are stepping outside of time. Moment-to-moment, non-judgmental awareness cultivated by paying attention — we are all capable of this. Mindfulness actually saves us a tremendous amount of time because we don’t go down so many dead ends with our thoughts. It doesn’t take any more time to be more mindful. It’s not a philosophy, it’s a practice. You don’t have to get less busy or fix anything. Simply reclaim your moments by showing up for them. The more “speedy” your life is, the more oxygen this practice gives you.

Jon Kabat Zinn

The heart of each moment

The moment is our constant guide. It is the doorway to all that matters. And slowing our presence to meet the heart of each moment opens us to the mystery and power of life. As Russell Means of the Lakota tribe says “Just because someone has invented a clock doesn’t mean you have to hurry through life”. When we rush by the moment, any moment, we miss the deep awareness that is always waiting to show itself. So often, when feeling bereft, we chase what we think is special, when that deep aliveness is waiting in the moment we are in.

Mark Nepo, Seven Thousand Ways to Listen

Calendars, dates, moments

There is some interest in some circles about ancient calendars and texts and the end of the world happening these days. Now I do not wish to comment on the accuracy of such predictions but simply to see what such an interest can reveal in some people. There is a lot of uncertainty and instability in the world today, stemming from human tragedies, economic problems, the difficulties between different views of culture and values,  tension between religions and within religions,  and from storms and natural disasters.  And there are always uncertainties in our personal lives. Things change. People close to us get ill or move away.  This can make us feel very insecure. One way of dealing with not-knowing and with the fundamental unease that is at the basis of our existence is to seek something outside, or someone stronger than us, to steady us on this uncertain ground. So we provide an explanation for things we cannot understand and that explanation, even if it means the end of the world, seems preferable to not knowing why some things happen.  It is a  radical way of dealing with the fact that, at a fundamental level, there is a groundlessness inherent in our existence.  It is also an extreme variant of our common, everyday way of working with the unsatisfactory nature of individual moments – we  “lean towards”  something in the future, and this distracts us from this moment and how it actually is. What we are trying in our practice is not to focus on any future, “better” or “more secure” moment, but on this one, even if it is not as we would want it.  The best way to prepare for the future – or the “end of the world” if you like – is to care for this moment and then the next moment. There are enough distractions in the world today, including these spiritual or mythical ones, pulling us away from noticing where our life is,  now.

Meanwhile, here we are, missing the fullness of the present moment, which is where the soul resides.  It’s not like you have to go someplace else to get it.  So the challenge here is, Can we live this moment fully?  When you ask a group of people to spend five minutes watching their own breaths moving in and out of their bodies, just as an experiment,  they discover that their minds are like bubbling vats, and it’s not so easy to stay on the breath.  The mind has a life of its own.  It carries you away.  Over a lifetime, you may wind up in the situation where you are never actually where you find yourself.  You’re always someplace else, lost, in your head, and therefore in a kind of dysfunctional or nonoptimal state.  Why dysfunctional?  Because the only time you ever have in which to learn anything or see anything or feel anything, or express any feeling or emotion, or respond to an event, or grow, or heal, is this moment, because this is the only moment any of us ever gets.  You’re only here now; you’re only alive in this moment. The past is gone, and I don’t know what’s coming in the future.  It’s obvious that if I want my life to be whole, to resonate with feeling and integrity and value and health, there’s only one way I can influence the future:  by owning the present. 

Jon Kabat Zinn

A more interior hearth

When snow covers the ground,  as it has done here in the past week, we are forced to go at a slower  pace of life. This is not a bad thing,  as modern conveniences can insulate us from the natural rhythms of day and night and of the seasons. For nature, winter is a time of slowing down and resting, sometimes of harshness, and of bareness. For us too, the outside season can remind us to return to basics, to see what is truly important. We can also pass through period of interior  winters, moments of darkness and  feelings of isolation. Growth and warmth can seem far away and we can be tempted to despair. However, we may find growth even in these moments or  as David Whyte says here, such times can be reminders to let go of the activities that bring us to the superficial margins of our lives and return to the conversation that gives us real life:

When we feel bereft of one form of support we can easily forget that it is because we might be meant to put that particular form of comfort aside and look to a fiercer more internally grounded stage of our maturity, one that might emanate from a simpler but surer ground than the outer sky of mirrors and monetary instruments we might have constructed for ourselves in the so-called real world. It also might be surprising to think that there are just as many forms of courage and creativity associated with disappearance and doing without; just as many satisfying elements of aliveness associated with a winter as with spring. This central, core conversation to which we return in each succeeding winter is both nourishing and deeply disturbing, it seems heedless of any flimsy structures we may have erected, it seems fiery in that it burns familiar things away and yet provides another form of warmth emanating from a more nested, interior hearth. In my experience the first necessity of an individual in finding this fiery, core conversation is a radical form of simplification. To get to the core conversation we have to withdraw from the edges. Whatever expenses we have been making at the margins of our lives in terms of emotions, finances or time-based commitment must be brought back to the central conversation that makes the most sense.

David Whyte.