Looking at time and busyness

In Ireland the Gaelic name for October is Deireadh Fomhair, meaning the “last harvesting” – the last days of gathering whatever was  planted earlier in the year. It marks a change in energy, a winding-down for those who work on the land as they prepare for the dark days of winter. For us too, it can be a moment to look back on the work we have done this year, the way we have expended our energy, on how we have used our time. So, as our focus naturally turns more inward, we can use it as a season to reflect and find our balance  between our past and our future. We can take stock of what we are investing in and harvesting in our lives. We can begin to create space, recognizing unwise activity and busyness that only creates more distraction in our minds, keeping us running a lot but ultimately feeling more empty and less productive.

Naturally there are different species of laziness: Eastern and Western. Western laziness ……consists of cramming our lives with compulsive activity, so there is no time at all to confront the real issues. This form of laziness lies in our failure to choose worthwhile applications for our energy.We are so addicted to looking outside ourselves that we have lost access to our inner being almost completely. We are terrified to look inward, because our culture has given us no idea of what we will find.  So we make our lives so hectic that we eliminate the slightest risk of looking into ourselves. Even the idea of meditation can scare people. When they hear the words egoless or emptiness, they think that experiencing those states will be like being thrown out the door of a spaceship to float forever in a dark, chilling void. Nothing could be further from the truth. But in a world dedicated to distraction, silence and stillness terrify us; we protect ourselves from them with noise and frantic busyness. Looking into the nature of our mind is the last thing we would dare to do.

Sogyal Rinpoche

The desert of the heart

The summer was like a resort — you knew your way around. But then you needed to return to the desert of your heart. The lengthy solitude begins, the days turn dull again; the wind removes, like wilted leaves, the world you once could name. Through branches bare the sky looks down, the only sky you have; be ground now, evening song and land, with which this sky can blend. Be subject like a tool for use, mature and fit for much— so he, of whom we often heard, will know you at his touch.

Rilke, The Book of Hours

Learning from the out-breath

When we sit in meditation, we feel our breath as it goes out, and we have some sense of willingness just to be open to the present moment. Then our mind wanders off into all kinds of stories and fabrications and manufactured realities, and we say to ourselves, ‘It’s thinking.’ We say that with a lot of gentleness and a lot of precision. Every time we are willing to let go at the end of the out-breath, that’s fundamentally renunciation: learning how to let go of holding on and holding back.

Pema Chodron, The Wisdom of No Escape

Autumn and maturity

It’s no coincidence that autumn and authenticity are linguistic cousins. Both share the Latin root aut-, meaning [to increase or grow.] Autumn brings the harvest bounty: the earth’s increase. Authenticity brings the reward of increased self-knowledge and awareness, of a life augmented (another word cousin!) through integrity. As autumn represents the ripening of the crops, so authenticity represents the coming into maturity of our characters. The link is gratitude, which allows us to ground ourselves in humility and recognize our authentic nature. When we live gratefully, we become more truly ourselves.

Alan Jones et al., Seasons of Grace: The Life-Giving Practice of Gratitude.

Autumn Dawns

The ancient rhythms of the earth have insinuated themselves into the rhythms of the human heart. The earth is not outside us; it is within: the clay from where the tree of the body grows. When we emerge from our offices, rooms and houses, we enter our natural element. We are children of the earth: people to whom the outdoors is home. Nothing can separate us from the vigor and vibrancy of this inheritance. In contract to our frenetic, saturated lives, the earth offers a calming stillness. Movement and growth in nature takes its time. The patience of nature enjoys the ease of trust and hope. There is something in our clay nature that needs to continually experience this ancient, outer ease of the world. It helps us remember who we are and why we are here.

John O’Donohue

Noticing the sun shine today

Creatures of a day,  what is anyone? What are they not?

We are just a dream of a shadow.

But when there comes,  as a gift from heaven,  a gleam of sunshine

Then rests on the heart a light of glory,

And blessed are the days.

Pindar (518-438 BCE)