Not rushing to fix ambiguities

dark-river

The period between Christmas and New Year has a distinct tone and  a change of rhythm. There is an intensity about the Christmas period which can stir us up; to add to this we will soon be bombarded by the messages of New Year resolutions and dramatically  fixing our lives. So one or two posts about how to deal with this time, when the temptation is often to make abrupt changes in the face of the different parts of our lives.

There is a certain type of uncertainty which is just part of being human, and which we cannot control, such as that which comes from illness. This fundamental ambiguity – the unsatisfactory nature of life and of circumstances  – is always there in the background. It can be accentuated at periods like Christmas, and we intensify our efforts to get solid ground. So the dilemma is how to live wholeheartedly as adults in the realization that some elements will always be displeasing and we are never fully going to get it all together. How can we hold different parts together  – “manage the grey” – when we prefer things to be simply black or white: 

Most of us are uncomfortable when things are undefined, when things are not clearly to or for, up or down, left or right, or right or wrong. But the deeper truths always take time to reach us, and it is our job to enter a practice of waiting openly – which involves enduring the tensions of not-knowing. The truths that matter require us not to form opinions or beliefs hastily. On the contrary, we are asked to allow time to surround us with the Wholeness of life, to take the time required for the paradox of truth to show itself. It seems that the practice of not-knowing begins with a trust in the unnameable space that holds us, in the mysterious atmosphere in which we all live. That seems to be the true space of listening and learning, where our brief experiences of life in its totality, whether harsh or calm, will not fit into our tidy little maps of perception.

Mark Nepo

Like holding a baby

File:US Navy 100202-N-4971L-162 Sailor helps Haitian woman by holding baby.jpg

Thich Nhat Hahn from the Zen Tradition using the Christmas story as a way of teaching how to meditate:

I am going to remind you of the way to practice. First, “in” and “out.” It means that when I breathe in, I know I am breathing in. It’s easy. And when I breathe out, I know I am breathing out. I don’t mix the two things up. Breathing in, I know it is my in-breath. Breathing out, I know this is my out-breath. By that time, you stop all the thinking, you just pay attention to your in-breath and your out-breath. You are 100 percent with your in-breath and your out-breath.

It is like holding a baby in such a way that you hold it with 100 percent of yourself. Suppose this is a baby and I hold the baby like this. I hold the baby with 100 percent of myself. Remember, there are times when your mother holds you like this. Have you seen the image of the Virgin Mary holding the baby Jesus? She holds him like that: 100 percent. So here, our in-breath is our baby, and we hold our in-breath 100 percent. “Breathing in, I know that I am breathing in.” You just embrace your in-breath, nothing else. Don’t think of anything else. That is the secret of success.

Thich Nhat Hahn

Whatever the dragon

 

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One of the themes around this time of year is that of the triumph of light over darkness, the transformation of whatever feels dead in our lives by the way we bring light to it. And at times of struggle it can comfort us to know of this complete victory, as this icon of Saint Jurgis (George) reminds us. However, for most of our lives, the path to happiness is ongoing and lies in taking time to create and celebrate special moments – even if our overall situation is not as we would like it –  and in integrating all aspects of our experience,  both the good and the difficult, the dragons and the tigers,  in our lives  :

There is an old Sufi story about a man [who] senses a wild tiger chasing him. Frantically, he runs and runs, and comes upon a well. As the tiger approaches, he has no choice but to jump into the dark well. As he falls, he can see the tiger growling above him. As he falls, he can suddenly see that a dragon is hissing and waiting for him at the bottom of the well. Just then, he sees a branch growing out of a stone in the well. He grabs it. As he strains to hold on, with the tiger above and the dragon below, a single ray of light falls on the one leaf on the one branch that holds his life. And on that leaf, in the light, is a single drop of honey. With the hissing of the dragon and the growling of the tiger in his ears, the man summons all his strength to lick the single drop of lighted honey.

The story ends there,  with the man savoring the single drop of honey while the tiger and the dragon await. The power of this ancient story is that it affirms that spirit and crisis work each other in the world, and that the Divine Source is at the heart of every moment, even in the midst of danger. Mysteriously the way that pressure makes the diamond in a piece of coal visible, the press of the tiger and the dragon makes the essence in the moment visible. Again and again, we are shown that life is a jewel waiting in each moment broken open. Whatever the tiger, whatever the dragon, the drop of lighted honey, once seen and tasted, can bless us. And licking that drop of lighted honey is what life is all about. It may not save us from suffering or even death, but it will let the spirit become the jewel that it is. It will let us experience radiance.

Mark Nepo, Facing the Lion, Being the Lion.

Choosing light …and life

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Today is the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere, when the sun delivers the fewest hours of sunlight. I have posted on it in different ways over the years, sometimes encouraging the balance of light and dark in our lives, but today I will do as the ancient Celts did, and remind myself of the victory of  light and life, not letting darkness have the last word:

There are moments that cry out to be fulfilled.
Like, telling someone you love them.
Or giving your money away, all of it.

Your heart is beating, isn’t it?
You’re not in chains, are you?

There is nothing more pathetic than caution
when headlong might save a life,
even, possibly, your own.

Mary Oliver, Moments

photo mike

Sunday Quote: The mind of winter

winter-trees

I love the feel of winter, when things are stripped back, and we can see the bare outlines of trees and branches. Wallace Stevens reminds us “One must have the mind of winter”.  As we look around at the rush and the celebrations, we can ask “what is really worth celebrating”? We end up being busy, running after experiences but somehow losing our ability to play. 

Where is the Life 
we have lost in living? 
Where is the wisdom 
we have lost in knowledge? 
Where is the knowledge we have lost 
in information?

T.S. Eliot, Choruses from the Rock

Take refuge in small things today

File:Nanzenji green tea.jpg

And the heart, unscrolled,

is comforted by such small things:

a cup of green tea rescues us,

grows deep and large,

a lake

Jane Hirshfield, Recalling a Sung Dynasty Landscape

chris gladis