day four: 27 days of gratitude

How does an apple ripen? It just sits in the sun. - Thomas Merton

There is a zen story that goes something like this:

One day a young Buddhist on his journey home came to the banks of a wide river. Staring hopelessly at the great obstacle in front of him, he pondered for hours on just how to cross such a wide barrier. Just as he was about to give up his pursuit to continue his journey he saw a great teacher on the other side of the river. The young Buddhist yells over to the teacher, “Oh wise one, can you tell me how to get to the other side of this river”?

The teacher ponders for a moment looks up and down the river and yells back, “My son, you are on the other side”.

For years I identified as a broken self, somehow fractured off from life and intent on reparation. By the time I was seventeen I had become an avid seeker; seeking beauty, degrees, intelligence, safety, security, stability, lovability, health, youth, style, enlightenment and much, much more. I fashioned brilliant plans to accomplish wholeness and regain imagined perfection: some included academia, others personal growth, psychology, therapy, self work/reflection, ongoing study, service, selfishness, selflessness, arduous meditation practices, yoga and more. Unfortunately the-one-who-seeks is certain there is something out there, something to be attained, some escape from this pain or these feelings or the unknown mystery of this moment. I am fairly confident that if "enlightenment" could be taken by storm or through an act of will alone, I'd be in "possession" of it. But the one who seeks can never believe that NOW is exactly what is sought. And like an apple I can no sooner ripen through austerities, impatience, positive mantras, resistance, strong will, good behaviors, tantrums and the like. We are already on the other side, ripening in the sun of this moment, as it is.

I am grateful for the seed of trust that continues to emerge in the busy cacophony of me.

Comments

tree digging

Yes, I know it doesn't look like much. It was only about 5 inches in diameter and 8 feet tall. The root ball was no more than 3 feet deep. But it was a sweet red-bud tree that we planted the year Bodhi was born, his placenta was buried in it's roots and like many of the trees in our neighborhood, it died (see this post to understand why) . I can't say that I mourned its death in a tangible way, rather it produced in me a sort of unnameable melancholy. I am a woman who loves the spring. I nearly live for it. When the first signs of life emerge like a haze of hope, I drink in green with the passion of a desert crawling woman sipping at an oasis. I gorge. This year has been hard. Our neighborhood isn't leafing out in native splendor, instead the tired trees seem to begrudge the effort, only offering a tender shoot or bud occasionally. The north side of many trees appear to have given up all together, too tired after a long winter...

Coraggio

When everything looks bleak and the darkness cramps against the cold, it takes courage to simply look out from imagined isolation toward the wide horizon of beauty available in every moment. It takes courage to lean into the sea of life and trust the tide. When weary limbs no longer support us, it takes courage to trust our inner buoyancy and float. It takes courage, in the face of darkness, to remember the light and sit in all our apparent blindness and listen, silently, to the still, small whisper within. It takes courage, in that dark hour, when nothing else remains. Eyes closed. Eyes opened. A glimpse, a memory, a fleeting vision of a light so bright it blurs the borders of things seen and things perceived into a comprehensive wholeness of being. It takes courage.

connection

It has been an interesting few weeks. I have been contemplating connection a great deal as a basic need of being human. I watch my fellows rushing from one place to the next, gathering technology to themselves like talismans of protection against the emptiness of separation- a perpetual flutter of texts and calls and music and smart phones and GPS and more. Yet so many of us are longing for the central cord of union- with one another, with ourselves, with life. It's as if we are frightened of being disappointed, so we retreat deeper and deeper into the tight orbit of self. My teacher recently filled me in on a little secret...the meaning of life is to LIVE IT . That isn't tidy or safe. It is messy and vulnerable and unpredictable and unknown. And yet LIFE extends an invitation to us in every moment asking us to unleash the breathtaking beauty hidden in our hearts and experience, EXPERIENCE, experience life. Life isn't singular. ...

angelbirdflies

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