On The Seasons of the Heart

I particularly enjoy this time of year, not necessarily for any religious reasons, but for the colors, fragrances and conviviality that show up in greater abundance. People are just in a better frame of mind. For some of us there may be spiritual overtones, but we can be just as spiritually involved with life at any other time as well. For some there are gatherings of families or groups, some of which seem perfectly natural, some of which are somewhat contrived; and there can be conflicts that arise when people who don’t particularly want to be together are thrown together.

The better angels of our nature...

Perhaps we could view this season in a personalized way, as something that would allow gift giving, good feelings and doing good in ways and situations that we choose. Certainly there can be religious/spiritual inklings, if we wish, but we can also choose basic human ethics as a means to give a bit of ourselves away. What if we listened to the better angels of our natures as they sing the Christmas mandate to us…Peace on earth, good will to all? And what if we actually decided to try it for once? What if we gave everyone a break, at least for awhile, including ourselves and some of those folks we find so difficult? Couldn’t this allow a little healing to take place?

A tale of redemption...

One of my favorites, Charles Dicken’s  A Christmas Carol, is not so much a story of Christmas as it is a tale of redemption. We know the story of the miser whose better angels…er, ghosts…portrayed for him another way to think, and he transformed his life. It simply happened that setting the story at Christmastime was economically better for Dickens. This story has been so enjoyed over time that the name of its main character, Ebenezer Scrooge, has slipped into the lexicon of English speakers. Whenever we think of someone who is stingy, miserable and mean spirited, don’t we think of him as being a “scrooge” or “scrooge-like?” What we have forgotten is the second half of this tale…the remaking of Scrooge into a character of generosity and love.  Perhaps there is also a part of us that can be remade so that we become more than we thought we could.

The course of spiritual love...

I think that what this should tell us is that redemption lives in the heart of every one of us, not just in one, splendid Divine son. The believer thinks that everything he does is shot through with divinity and that the course of spiritual love is always open. I think that at every level, whether we are believers or not, we somehow know that we have more to give.  Not a bad way at all to enter into this season of the heart!

On Old Friends

 I have been around long enough now to have created a history of my own. I have lived through many events, long enough to have gained a thing called perspective, something that most young people don’t yet know about. The teenager whose girl friend leaves him thinks he will never get over it and never love again. I know different. I know that it won’t be too long before another flashing smile will catch his eye. He just does not yet know that pain does heal and memories dim.

 Time, people and circumstances come and go...

Time, people and circumstances come and go, but not in a meaningless stream. There are those times, those people and those circumstances that make an impact on the heart and memory that can never be replaced. Old friends are like that. I always look forward to what new introductions can bring…such as a new baby or a new job…but when I am looking for assurances and a place to lay back, I go to old friends.

A good, reliable friend...

Some of the wonderful oldies are no longer with me in the flesh, but our times and exploits together are a part of the growing up that has made me who I am. I think of a good, reliable friend (still with me, blessedly) who has walked with me through many of the highs and lows of my life…deaths, losses, divorce…always bringing her gift of non-judgmentalness. At one time when I was very unsure of myself and my choices, I turned to her tentatively, probably looking for approval, and her steady tone told me, “I love you, and whatever you do is ok with me.” Nothing replaces good underpinnings like that.

Mental underpinnings....

The mind holds old friends for us as well, if we will think back a bit. No doubt there are ways of thinking and behaving that may no longer serve us; hopefully these we will have jettisoned, but values we have learned and practiced remain as mental underpinnings. When did we discover that others are as deserving of the good things of life as we are? What wise person showed us that an adversarial stance accomplishes only disagreement and inevitable push-back?

Old friends of the mind.....

 Of course there are always newer and faster ways to accomplish our desires, but do they sometimes leave out the humility and humanity that are vital and precious to us? It is very easy in the world of new means to overlay the old importances as no longer meaningful. If we fall heir to this we have ceased to be as picky as we should be about the care of old friends of the mind. We live in the midst of thunder every day, loud and noisy ideas that vie for our attention and would make irrelevant that which went before, but maybe not always worthy of too much attention. T.S. Eliot wrote that “we shall not cease from exploration, and at the end of our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time”…old friends made new again.

On Doubt

About one thing I have no doubt…and that is that I will doubt. At one time in my foolish youth I believed there would be a time when I would be so certain of myself and what I know that I would be doubt free. Looking back I now say to myself… how silly was that! In fact I had a wonderful old friend who said, “to doubt is the beginning of wisdom.” She was so right. I think she understood that doubt-free people usually engage in my-way-or-the-highway thinking. Their certainty was more curse than blessing since there was no room for shared opinions…or growth, which usually accompanies uncertainty.

Doubt tells us we're alive...
Doubt tells us we’re alive. The 17th Century French philosopher, Rene’ Descartes, is known for his famous cogito ergo sum: I think therefore I am. He could just as well have said, “I doubt therefore I am.” Doubt and complacency just do not exist in the same space; the complacent person does not ask questions; the doubtful person is full of them. Often some think that some kind of weakness is associated with people who experience lack of certitude. I think that this is really unfortunate since uncertainty is often the way into new awareness. Any of us who have explored religious or spiritual systems surely have come across this. The look into something that cannot be quantified, weighed, measured or completely rationalized…which is usually true of queries into belief systems…is found to be overlaid with elements that cannot really be factually verified. The believer chooses to believe, even though he cannot prove his inner experiences nor transfer them to another person. I think that enough personal, spiritual senses over time and practice enable the believer to live with the glimmers of doubt that can arise. He makes his peace with the god that does not perform on cue and moves into hundreds of little assurances that can almost go unnoticed. When dealing with what cannot be fully known, one has to learn how to pay attention!

Any real certainties?
Are there any real certainties that we can count on? I think so, as long as we are not asking people or situations to do what we want them to do. I, for instance, have no doubt that my family loves me. We have grown through a lot of difficult situations, and we are all still willingly on scene. I do doubt that they always like me at times since I am still infected with the parental disease called intrusiveness. I do meddle in their lives. Fortunately they are wise, forgiving and know how to love. I do not doubt this.

A little island of certainty
As it turns out, a little island of certainty can go a long way in navigating a sea of doubtful situations. Love is one of these islands. Self love is the most durable, but a few folks at our sides along the way make for a good GPS system.

On Real Thanks

I sometimes think that if the pilgrims had landed on the coast of California rather than Plymouth Rock, we might not have needed a day of Thanksgiving! Certainly winter in the Golden State would have been a little easier. Nevertheless a prescribed opportunity to give thanks on the national level allows us a space to consider what it means to live in America, imperfect as it may be. The good part about living in a relatively young country set up with democratic ideals is that its citizens are never satisfied with the status quo. Democracy may be inordinately messy and hugely inefficient, but the self-corrective mechanisms within it insure new life and new possibilities. I’m very thankful for this, that America has the possibilities to heal wrongs, set in motion rights, and that its people can enter into its governance as much or as little as they like, although it’s easy to forget that freedom does not happen all by itself. It needs constant care and attention, which is what real citizenship affords.

Thanksgiving is a spiritual practice...
The whole idea of thanksgiving is connected with the status of freedom. It is difficult to want to give thanks when you’re cramped and constrained. On the other hand, if the freedom door is slammed shut, real thanks can gradually push it open. Thanksgiving is a spiritual practice; in itself it creates an attitude of openness. It allows for an expectancy of what is on the way but perhaps not yet arrived. It carries within it the validation of whatever good the status quo holds and makes way for more expansive living.

A state of mind...
Thanksgiving begins as a state of mind. It appreciates the nourishment in a single apple and knows that a bowl of fruit cannot be far behind. Paeans of thanks may be given as a group at special meetings, but the hearts of the ones giving thanks need to be activated if the thanksgiving is to be real.

A few minutes in reflective thanksgiving...
When I’m sitting in my favorite chair in the evenings, I try to be conscious enough to spend a few minutes in reflective thanksgiving for the things that are important to me. They don’t all have to be easy and pleasant, but they do indicate where I find myself in my world at this time.

On Worship

Sometimes attending church services and the practice of worship belong together…and sometimes they don’t. It is easy to be sitting in church, stomachs growling, wondering when we can go to lunch, and there is not a worshipful bone in our bodies. But then, sometimes we can be as far from a religious edifice as possible and yet be suddenly so filled with a rush of the Infinite Presence that we are driven to our knees, sometimes literally, sometimes figuratively.

An act of worship...

Many believe that the practice of worship involves certain postures and certain physical positions. I remember putting our hands together and closing our eyes when I was a child in preparation for a prayer by the minister. I understood this as something we did when the important words, let us pray, were spoken, but I had no real idea of its relevance. Consequently I’m not sure I would consider this an act of worship. As far as I am concerned, worship involves a conscious, intentional act of connection with that which is greater than myself. Many will see this as a connection to God; others may feel it when they are close to a work of art or a spot in nature that causes an outpouring of love to spill over into their own experiences; many would not see a distinction between them.

Remembrances of the One...

Certainly this can happen in church. Sometimes sights, sounds, words, music and atmosphere can all swell together into a crescendo of feeling and energy that carries the participant into a larger space. The willing participant knows this as a sublime form of worship. I think that practicing Muslims have five wonderful opportunities a day to take time to worship. If one is close to the call of the muezzin, he or she stops activity and drops to the ground in the posture of prayer, forsaking daily demands for connection. These five times a day allow for regular, expected remembrances of the One. A skilled professor of Islamic literature once told us, his students, that even if one didn’t understand the words of the Arabic call to prayer, it did not really matter. It was the sounds of the words falling on the ear that drew the worshipper in. There may magic in this, and certainly there is real meaning.

Doorways to the soul...

Of course worship can be engaged in with formality and tradition and can put the person who is really participating in a place of devotion. Rote recitations and familiar gestures can become lifeless if we’re not careful, but if the opening overtures are genuine doorways to the soul that seeks, here is true wonder!

The largeness of our lives...

I, for one, find opportunities for worship everywhere, for the largeness of our lives is everywhere…in nature, in beautiful objects, in compelling textures, in the weaving together of words and music. Long ago when one of my grandchildren was very new and just getting used to her life in the world, I looked deep into her untroubled, infant’s eyes as I held her, and for a few seconds, saw the great expanse within that gaze. I believe that together we worshipped in time and space and found the place that always awaits.

On Cooperation or Competition

Some days can feel a bit strange to me. Ordinary situations can seem mean and combative. Maybe it’s because the winds are blowing more sharply and extreme weather conditions are worrisome. But I think it is somehow more than that. The general atmosphere seems to hold more push back and less invitation. Recently in the San Francisco Bay Area residents have all passed through a transit workers strike that set management against labor and held the entire region subject to huge traffic snarls. And we all have ideas about the government shutdown, something that only got back in business when one group of legislators was forced to back down.

Being dismissive...
Even one of the stories told about Jesus feels a little weird at times. Bible buffs will remember the story of the woman who came to Jesus weeping and carrying an expensive bottle of unguent. She knelt at his feet and began to wash them with the precious liquid, drying them with her hair. The story tells us that the disciples rebuked her for not selling the expensive liquid and giving the money to help the poor. Accordingly, Jesus told the disciples to stand down, as he said that they would always have the poor with them but that he would only be with them a little while. Normally I am charmed by this tale, but lately I mused, “Hmmm….was even Jesus being dismissive of those who needed help in favor of his own comforts?”

A redemptive quality to life...
Right now it seems harder to find more kindness than combativeness, more cooperation than competition. It’s as if working together belongs to another tribe. I believe there is a redemptive quality to life, a constant series of opportunities for us to bring our special good into any circumstance; even the stones on the ground need our time and attention at times. Mountain climbers tethered together must work closely for all to arrive at a safe destination. It does indeed take a village to raise a child …or anything else for that matter.

The big one was connection....
Competition is touted because it supposedly sparks creativity. Wouldn’t more people coming together around an idea work more creatively? What do people in “think tanks” do…think as a group together, I would suppose? In some recent studies when people were asked what was number one in importance to them, love was up there, of course, and stability, but the big one was connection. We need help sometimes, a kind word, a calm hand, friends to encourage us…connection, in other words, not competition.

On Self Reliance

Perhaps the most important of the 19th Century American essayists, Ralph Waldo Emerson, wrote a particularly stirring essay with the same title as this small piece. This was no surprise to me that he would do so, having lost his young, first wife and his small son, Waldo, by the time he was 40 years old. No doubt making his way through the soul-shattering American Civil War did not help matters either. I have valued and been led by his words that resound like a great bell in the mind. “To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men…that is genius.”

A child of the 60's...
A child of the 60’s…the 1860’s, that is…the great man is not far off today. I think it is easier, way easier these days, to get pulled away from our thinking centers by the array of gaudy entertainments and multi-media attractions that call to us every hour we’re awake. Cell phones, smart phones are wonderful information dispensers, but they can also crowd our mental spaces with so much “stuff” that we can lose sight of where we begin and end.

Others cannot think for us...

Being self reliant does not mean that we have to stay alone, but it does mean that others cannot think for us what only we can think for ourselves. We can get many impressions that were given to us by others. Whose values are we taking in when we join clubs, fraternities or gangs? Our own…or those that were given to us as mandated behaviors? Is it a rude thing to questions what’s before us, or just the free exercise of a mind at work? 

Be clear and curious...

I think to be free citizens, to be real individuals, we need to be as clear and curious as possible. This is not always easy; it is very compelling to go with the loudest talker or the sharpest song-and-dance man around. I believe the best gift of all is the gift of ourselves…presented lovingly, clearly and with no attachments to outcomes. Perhaps Emerson should be given the last word when he writes, “Nothing can bring you peace but yourself.”