Not everything goes to plan 1: Wait

It is the height of arrogance to prescribe a moral code or health regime or spiritual practice as an amulet to keep things from falling apart. Things do fall apart. It is in their nature to do so. When we try to protect ourselves from the inevitability of change, we are not listening to the soul. We are listening to our fear of life and death, our lack of faith, our smaller ego’s will to prevail. To listen to your soul is to stop fighting with life–to stop fighting when things fall apart; when they don’t go our away, when we get sick, when we are betrayed or mistreated or misunderstood. To listen to the soul is to slow down, to feel deeply, to see ourselves clearly, to surrender to discomfort and uncertainty and to wait.

Elisabeth Lesser

Where is God?

God changes appearances every second.

Blessed is the man who can recognize him in all his disguises. One moment he is a glass of fresh water; the next, your son bouncing on your knees, or an enchanting woman, or perhaps merely a morning walk.

Nikos Kazantzakis

Stay awake!

It is the acceptance of death that has finally allowed me to choose life. Elizabeth Lesser

The gospel in this morning’s  liturgy is a well known one, reminding us of the need to be always on the alert for the return of the Master. It advises us to “stay awake, for you do not know the day or the hour“. We are urged to “always keep the lamps lit“. Initially understood as a reference to the immanent return of Christ,  it became applied to the awareness that life itself is precarious and that sickness and death can strike when we least expect.

This awareness of death can be very real when someone close to us is ill. However, it is also common in different wisdom traditions, including in Catholic and Buddhist practice,  to consciously reflect on death and on what legacy we would like to leave behind. The Dalai Lama recommends this as an ongoing practice, reminding us that death is part of life itself and is not bad in itself. He states that his daily meditation includes preparation for death: “Thinking about death not only serves as a preparation for dying and prompts actions that benefit future lives, but it also dramatically affects your mental perspective”

There is another way this morning’s text can be applied to our practice, not referring to the future or to our death. It simply reminds us to be awake , at every moment, to the different ways in which life presents itself, second by second. It is only in the present moment that we can fully be alive, as recent quotes on the blog remind us. We miss so much of life’s richness by not being present, or wishing to be elsewhere. We can often prefer the jabber in our heads or dreaming about some imagined future to the real life that is before us. Our minds love to be busy, running outward toward something they see and want, and then in the the next moment, turning inward toward some thought that feels good or planning for the future. The problem with this busyness, even when we are concerned with important things, is that we are not aware. We are thinking. The wisdom in this gospel text is lost if we use it just to prepare for death. We are called to be fully alert to all the ways that we can love life in each moment by being aware of what is going on.

Nothing spectacular….just learning to be here.

……Just being totally engaged in the  moment –  that’s arduous enough! I’ve known a number of students over the years who feel like they have to do something spectacular, something more difficult than that. It is plenty difficult, just to continuously bring yourself back to this moment.

Even while driving a car we can space out and drive for miles on the freeway and still make all the right turns. It’s amazing how tuned out we can be, and yet still seem to be functioning — not functioning full well but nevertheless we’re getting by. But we’re spinning in our own thoughts, we’re not really here. So it’s arduous enough to just bring ourselves back to this moment. That’s practice enough for anyone.

And we shouldn’t think there are some special moments for it, such as the times that we spend on a  meditation cushion. Of course there are those moments, but if we split up our life that way – “Here’s my special moment when I go off to sit in meditation” — well does that make any sense? The rest of your life now, what are you doing, just not paying attention?  There doesn’t need to be that kind of a break. And gradually with some maturity of practice some people start to catch on to that and just learn to be here.

Steve Hagan

Lessons learnt from a little kitten

The lesson of spiritual life is not about gaining knowledge, but about how we love. Are we able to love what is given to us, love in the midst of all things, love ourselves and others?

Jack Kornfield, After the Ecstasy, the Laundry

Our neighbours have a new little black kitten, who is just starting to explore her area.  “Minette” as she is called, comes bounding onto our terrasse, with no fear and pure playfulness. She trusts completely, plays easily and then runs away to scamper up the trees at the end of the garden, only to return two minutes later to start over again. She wanders into the house and out again to hide among the olive and geranium flower pots waiting to pounce. Everything is a wonder for her, a piece of string, a blade of grass.

It is so easy to be at ease with and love any creature when they are confident and without fear, when they approach without defenses.  We too were born that way, before our life’s experiences led us to develop caution and defenses.  What we try to do in our practice is to get in touch with the natural confidence and joy which is within us , and which is there before the spinning mind takes over. Meditation is simply learning to stay in that natural calm, moving away from the spinning stories by sitting with the here-and-now.

The last two days were lovely and sunny and I took more time for quiet practice, walking and reading. They were calm,  easy days. Today it rains, so walks outdoors are less an option, but the same calm remains, even with the noise of the heavy rain.  To help myself do this I am concentrating on having a view of this moment, as one that is not attached to any  outcome, just as the little kitten demonstrates. A sense of wonder in the newness of each experience, wonderful in itself, a whole world to discover. Jon Kabat Zinn reminds us that this moment is the only moment which we can be sure of. Whatever is happening in this moment is the best that is, with no need to seek for other outcomes. When I do not focus on an outcome,  I am in less danger of splitting into me and it, or me and them, making the world and my experience  dualistic, dependant on something outside me.

Normally when I am confused or frightened, it is a sign that I have moved from this moment into some story of them and me, good and bad, blame and feeling hurt. And in those moments I find it harder to trust and to love. Letting go of the storylines, however, means that I find it easier to respond to needs beyond my own. So they are all linked: touching into natural confidence leads to joy and joy leads to being able to love. As Jack Kornfields quote reminds us, for real wisdom to open, it has to rest in and demonstrate compassion.  It does not remove us from the fulness of life. Minette shows the way. She plays,  she trusts, she exists fully without always living in her self-centred mind. She is at ease. She loves.

A Morning Prayer: Gratitude

I join my hands in thanks
for the many wonders of life;
for having twenty-four brand-new hours before me.

Thich Nhat Hanh, Call Me by My True Names