Thursday, September 24, 2020
Tuesday, September 15, 2020
Our western culture highly values yang energy. Idle hands do the devil’s work, make the most of every minute, increase productivity, we can rest when we’re dead, time is money, move up or move out – these are just a few familiar sayings that reflect this preference.
There is nothing inherently wrong with yang energy. On the contrary, it is a necessary and natural aspect of life’s rhythm and harmony. It is the manifesting energy of all creation. But it is not the only energy. Its complementary energy is yin.
Yin is still, receptive, dark, nurturing. It is the womb from which creation emerges. It is the fertile earth. It is the energy of gathering, returning to the source, the energy of harvest. Its season is fall.
This year in my area of the world, wildfires are racing across the land. Nature’s expression of yang energy is exploding with the hot dryness of a rainless summer, ignited in unstoppable fires scattered up and down the west coast. Smoke hangs thick over my house, keeping me inside, while friends not far away have had to abandon their homes to take refuge from the inferno.
We sometimes describe such fires as raging. I can’t help but wonder if these fires in particular, and global warming in general, aren’t reflections back to us of the imbalance we have created by such a devoted enslavement to yang energy. Perhaps it’s no coincidence that the yin organ of fall is the lungs, the organ most directly vulnerable to the fire and smoke.
Nature seeks balance. First the pandemic kept us home, and now the smoke keeps us inside.* Growing still, turning inward, where yin energy welcomes us, and encourages us to rest, to contemplate, to listen, to receive. The fires won’t last forever. Hopefully, neither will the pandemic. When we emerge on the “other side” of all this, may we find a more sustainable balance in our lives and in our world.
*I write this post as one who has the luxury of sheltering in place, in a safe home with plenty of food and water, and lots of time to sit and wonder about the questions I raise here. This is not true for everyone. The circumstances that give me this opportunity for reflection call firefighters to the flame, risking their lives, and cause others to flee to safety, while volunteers step up to serve. Heroes of all kinds abound in crises such as the ones faced this year with the pandemic and the fires. I am not one of them, and I am humbly grateful to those who are.
Monday, September 7, 2020
If people are not afraid of death How can death be used to threaten them
These opening lines remind me of the story of the monk who was threatened by a marauding soldier with a sword. When the monk sat there calmly, the solder yelled, “Aren’t you afraid? Don’t you know I can run you through with this sword without blinking an eye?”
The monk replied, “Don’t you know I can be run through with your sword without blinking an eye?” At the point, so the story goes, the soldier released his sword and dropped to his knees, begging to be the monk’s disciple.
The chapter goes on to say that if people are afraid of death, they act out of fear. To put it another way, they are no longer in alignment with the natural flow of energy in the universe. They are no longer acting in harmony with all of creation. Acts of fear are often attempts to control our circumstances or other people. They are often met with resistance as fearful people vie for the upper hand, the classic power struggle.
The chapter finishes by observing that those with the upper hand then use their power to force others into compliance. This is not the way of nature. It is like trying to usurp nature’s power, or, to put it in other terms, it is like playing God.
And, as many of us have learned in our lives, such attempts often backfire, bringing more harm than good to all concerned.
Whenever I find myself in an anxious or fearful state, my first impulse is to try to control something or someone in order to relieve my own distress. I can usually find some justification, for example, thinking that circumstances or someone left me no choice. I can usually find some pure motivation, for example, thinking that I am improving the situation or helping someone. But really, if I’m honest, I’m trying to make myself feel better or safer or happier.
And how does that work for me? Hmm, usually not so great because I’m basing my sense of well being on things I can’t really control, like circumstances and other people. So even if I get relief in the immediate situation, the underlying impermanence of, well, everything, leaves me on some level still unsettled.
What if, instead, I addressed the underlying root of all my unease – fear. What if I made my peace with the fluid movement of all creation, always changing, always manifesting and returning in cyclic rhythm. What if I found this natural energy wondrously magnificent instead of scary and threatening. What if I allowed it to move freely in me and through me, and gave up the exhausting and futile quest to be in charge of everything and everyone.
Might be worth exploring....
A moment of Radical Acceptance is a moment of genuine freedom. ~Tara Brach
PS -- As an example, I continue to struggle with the new Blogger interface. I just spent 20 minutes trying to get things spaced the way I wanted. Hmm, perhaps I need to practice some radical acceptance....
Friday, September 4, 2020
Tuesday, August 18, 2020
Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point. ~C. S. Lewis
As the tectonic plates of culture alternately drift further apart and then crash into each other with increasing violence, I am reminded of blog posts of the past, written in times of heart pain and despair over the fear and separation manifesting in our world.
When I went back to read these posts, my first thought was that nothing has changed. Those posts could have been written today. Specific circumstances and events might change, but underlying it all is the same need for a better way.
We are, I think many would agree, at a testing point. We are called now to be this time’s “righteous among the nations.” To march together across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma. To be the small but mighty child in the crowd who sees through illusion and says that the emperor has no clothes.
We are called not to accuse but to model, not to condemn but to lead, not to fight but to free, not to know but to understand, not to inflict but to heal, not to win but to unite, not to hate but to hold.
What does that look like? It looks like listening to our own inner guide, leading us on our own path. It looks like inner alignment that manifests in everything we do or think or say. It looks like integrity, being fully integrated in body, mind, and spirit.
It looks like courage at the testing point.
The way we seek is not out there but within.
Monday, August 10, 2020
You think you know yourself until things start happening, until you lose the insulation of normality. ~Robert Wilson
The photo above shows a label on the side of a jigsaw puzzle box. I was immediately intrigued.
“Specification colors and contents may yary from illustration, pls in kind prevail.” [sic]
If I consider just the first part of the sentence, does that mean that the puzzle inside the box might not be the one illustrated? Could it be a different puzzle altogether? Maybe the same picture but with different colors? Or could it possibly not even be a puzzle? A total surprise? Not at all what I thought I was buying?
This year might have well come with such a cautionary label. I laugh now at my January post about 2020 being the year of perfect vision. I suppose in some way it is that indeed, showing us with sometimes shocking clarity some things we may not wish to see. But that is not what I meant when I wrote that post. I thought I was “buying” a very different type of year, a year of insight, wisdom, enlightenment. And above all some peace, especially after the intense last two years in my personal life.
Instead, this year has, for many of us, stripped away the insulation of normality. And we are discovering that perhaps we don’t know ourselves as well as we thought we did. The year of perfect vision has brought us face to face not only with the world around us, but with ourselves. And who is it that is staring back?
Perhaps our reflection varies in “specifications, colors, and contents” from the illustration of ourselves that we have painted and displayed to others, and most importantly to ourselves. What do we find when we open the box and take a look inside?
Maybe this is where the second part of the label comes in. “Please in kind prevail” could mean lots of things. I’ve had a fun time exploring some of the possibilities. But I this context, I like to think that it means to have an attitude of tolerance, acceptance, forgiveness, and kindness, when things or people, including ourselves, are not what we expect or want them to be.
This might involve venturing beyond our comfort zone, questioning our underlying assumptions, willingness to tolerate uncertainty, humility to surrender to the unknown, courage to keep our hearts open when fear wants to shut them up tight.
Perhaps this little puzzle box label is all the wisdom we need in this year of perfect vision. If we can see and manifest kindness in the midst of chaos, then surely we will prevail.
My religion is kindness. ~the Dalai Lama