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

Not visible

harvest

Some days or weeks we work with limited vision. The true meaning is hidden. We rely on inner values and on the commitment we have made.

Bringing in a full harvest from human effort has always been difficult, because what is worth bringing in is almost always hidden from us: think of the hard, protected kernel of the wheat amidst a waving sea of gold, or the the walnut nestled in its dense, unyielding skin of green and white, think of how common a much-wanted, simple understanding is needed, hidden by our complex thoughts; or the attempt to fully forgive when even forgiving a little seems to be the last thing we want to do; and lastly, the wish to love and to be loved, when loving is what we are most afraid to do.  

David Whyte, Letters from the House

Trust

File:BBGMonarchButterflyWings.jpg

With no mind, flowers lure the butterfly;
With no mind, the butterfly visits the blossoms.
Yet when flowers bloom, the butterfly comes;
When the butterfly comes, the flowers bloom.

Ryokan, 1758 – 1831, Buddhist monk, hermit and poet.

The vulnerability of life

leaf9
Things are changing all the time. This makes us seek who and what will anchor us in all of this change:
Life is precious. Not because it is unchangeable, like a diamond, but because it is vulnerable, like a little bird.
To love life means to love its vulnerability, asking for care, attention, guidance, and support.
Life and death are connected by vulnerability.
The newborn child and the dying elder both remind us of the preciousness of our lives.
Let’s not forget the preciousness and vulnerability of life during the times we are successful and popular.
Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey

Sunday Quote: Spacious

sunrise

The world is vast

and the body and breath are spacious

when we are at ease with ourselves and others

Michael Stone, from his lovely book, Awake in the World

photo of early morning sun in Glendalough, on a beautiful Saturday in October which reminded me of Rilke :

I would like to step out of my heart

and go walking beneath the enormous sky.

Saturday in October: Loosening

File:Caldon Canal Near Endon - geograph.org.uk - 317647.jpg

When things in work start to overwhelm me and cause a struggle, or when someone does something that causes fear,  I notice that two things tend to happen – I get a type of tightening or contraction in the body  and a feeling of speeding up in the mind. So this poet’s petition is a nice one to echo on this Saturday morning: Let the day begin gently, and let space enter in, expand and slow me down. Let the leaves fall one by one, and may their letting go permeate into my bones. 

We do not have to learn how to contract; we find it easy to turn away, to freeze and to blame…

We do have to practice letting go and holding the heart open, to learn how to soften:

O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away.
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!

Robert Frost, from October.

photo david mastin