Poetry 145: Dear Voyager

“The untold want, by life and land ne'er granted,

Now, Voyager, sail thou forth, to seek and find.” 

~Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass 

Dear Voyager

Dear Voyager,
here is your

quest.

It will begin

with birth,
and will end
with death.

The goal,

is to leave
this sliver of
the universe
a little better
than you found it.

At the gate,

you, the Seeker,
will receive
four tools
to assist you
on your journey.

A body

to move in.

A mind

to think in.

A heart

to feel in.

And a soul

to intuit through.

Likewise, you will

receive guides
along the Way
who will
offer their love 
for free.

You must, however,
use a critical eye, 

for the Monsters
are easily confused
for the helpers.

(They all look
the same you know.)

While you travel,

you will be required
to care for others 
along the Way-
even carry them
at times.

Fear not,
this will not

take away from
your endeavor.

In fact,

it is the others
who will sustain 
this quest 
with an infusion 
of purpose.

Yet, you should know,
there will be

moments of
sheer, exhaustible
pain.
Loss.
Heartache.
And confusion.

Thoughtfully handled,
these moments
will make you
stronger. Wiser.
Mishandled, they
will be your
kryptonite.

You will spend weeks,

months,
and even years
lost in the wilderness.

Those will be very

dark times.

And when

the path
reveals itself again,
it will feel like a miracle.

But remember,

you will not
be alone
in this pursuit.

I will be

with you
every step
of the Way.

Though I will not

interfere. Or comment.
I will not judge,
or assist,
my presence
will be felt,
if you care to,
every time you
pause for
one full breath.

Long enough to

remember
from whence you came,
and to where you will
return.

At the end, it

will feel like the
beginning.
And when you
return, you will
take nothing
with you
whatsoever.

All you will

leave, is
footprints.

-Me

The Promise of Mindfulness Part II: Expanding Consciousness

In 1902, pioneering American psychologist William James wrote the following about consciousness:

Our normal waking consciousness is but one special type of consciousness, whilst all about it, parted from it by the filmiest of screens, there lie potential forms of consciousness entirely different...No account of the universe in its totality can be final which leaves these other forms of consciousness quite disregarded.

Okay, truth be told, I don't think I really understand what consciousness is.

But I am fascinated with it, and I am relentless in my search for exploration of the complexity of human nature.

Yet, over the years, I've seen images like these on the internet,

and all I've wondered is: But what does that even mean or look like in the real world?

I've tried to read lay-articles about philosophers like David Chalmers (e.g. Why Can't the World's Greatest Minds Solve the Mystery of Consciousness? The Guardian 1/21/15), and finished reading the piece with more questions and confusion than when I started.

And yet here I am, attempting to contemplate out loud what I believe I experienced about 7 months ago in my meditation practice in regards to consciousness, and how mindfulness has the potential and the capacity to expand  our collective consciousness.

I have actually wanted to share this experience with you all for some time, but I held back.

In part because I have never been too interested or motivated to seek unusual or peak experiences in my meditation practice.

I think I'm just way to practical for all that.

But also because, I have a pretty strong aversion to anything that has even a whiff of "new age" or spiritual cliché, so to write about "expanding consciousness" is at a minimum, ironic.

In fact, what finally led me to open up about these two meditation experiences that happened on the most ordinary of summer days while sitting on my back deck, was reading about what I believe was a similar experience by an MIT physics professor.

His name is Alan Lightman, and he has dual appointments at the  prestigious Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Cambridge, Massachusetts in both science (physics) and the humanities (creative writing).  He is also the author of multiple fiction novels and nonfiction books on science- a most lovely, renaissance-like, balance of academic disciplines.

I encountered Dr. Lightman's most recent book, Searching for Stars on an Island in Maine (2018), through Maria Popova's fantastic website and resource BrainPickings (www.brainpickings.org)
in her December 21st, end of the year post entitled "Favorite Books of 2018."

In her post, Ms. Popova quoted this passage from Dr. Lightman's new book that describes his own moment of presence that he had in a small boat underneath the stars in the state of Maine.

Ms. Popova described his experience as "transcendent":

No one was out on the water but me. It was a moonless night, and quiet.  The only sound I could hear was the soft churning of the engine of my boat. Far from the distracting lights of the mainland, the sky vibrated with stars.

Taking a chance, I turned off my running lights, and it got even darker. Then I turned off my engine. I lay down in the boat and looked up.  A very dark night sky seen from the ocean is a mystical experience.

After a few minutes, my world had dissolved into that star-littered sky.  The boat disappeared. My body disappeared. And I found myself falling into infinity. A feeling came over me I'd not experienced before...I felt an overwhelming connection to the stars, as if I were part of them. And the vast expanse of time--extending from the far distant past long before I was born and then into the far distant future long after I will die--seemed compressed to a dot.

I felt connected not only to the starts but to all of nature, and to the entire cosmos. I felt a merging with something far larger than myself, a grand and eternal unity, a hint of something absolute. 

After a time, I sat up and started the engine again.  I had no idea how long I'd been lying there looking up.

Yes. That is exactly how it was.

And if I may, to me, this poignant example is exactly how I believe mindfulness, or deep unmitigated presence, truly can expand our consciousness by simply showing up all the way.

So I try to.

I try to bring what professor, psychologist and mindfulness meditation researcher Shauna Shapiro calls:

Intention, Attention and Attitude (nonjudgmental and kind) to as many moments in my day as I remember to, in order to deepen and expand my own consciousness- even if consciousness still largely remains a mystery to me.

And, I actually think a little mystery is okay.

In fact, Dr. Lightman did a TEDx presentation in 2014 called "The Physicist as Novelist," and in his talk he said to the audience:

I have come to believe that we need both kinds of questions. We need questions with answers, and we need questions without answers.  That both kinds of questions are part of being human.

I couldn't agree more.

May it be so.

A Retreat to St. Joseph Abbey

In her follow-up book, A Weekend to Change Your Life, Joan Anderson, who also authored A Year By the Sea, wrote the following  in her chapter “Selfhood Begins by Walking Away: An Argument for Solitude:”

In my talks with women throughout the country, I strive to help them understand the merits of solitude and retreat. For it is with solitude that we find the capacity to listen to our own voices, take ownership of our lives and our ideas, and assuage the ache.

But just how does a woman with extra paper taped to the edges of her calendar find solitude and stillness? There is only one way. She retreats. She dares to step away from the responsibilities, activities, and routines of her life in order to embrace the present moment and achieve an inner stillness.

I realized recently that it had been almost 6 months since I had taken a solo retreat.

And I know that because my last retreat was in the thick of a hot and humid New England summer when I spent a day in nature with my bike;

 

after which I found this most perfect stump to sit upon in meditation for a good length of time until I couldn’t stand the mosquitos even one more minute.

 

And now, fast forward 6 months, I recently found myself in the thick of an icy and frigid New England winter during which time I had a series of stressful events that included: my husband’s surgery, my elderly mother going into the hospital, and both of my children coming down with pneumonia during the holidays, which all meant I was in desperate need of a retreat!

I knew I would not be able to do a full-day or overnight retreat due to low funds and other responsibilities, but I could get in a half-day. 

And in my experience, some retreat is better than no retreat.

In A Weekend to Change Your Life, Ms. Anderson seems to agree because she writes in her chapter “Courting Retreat- Starting Small:”

It is valuable to practice retreating in increments by carving out ritualized spaces of solitude and stillness. You don’t need a full weekend to experience the benefits of retreating. Start small- begin to find mini-moments in your day when you can be still and alone…

She then goes on to explain how she began to take half-day, whole-day and then overnight retreats, and details the  profound impact that these silent retreats had on her over-all well-being.

One of my original hiding places was the local Catholic church- the only place in the community that kept its doors unlocked. I would frequent its dark sanctuary, sit quietly in the back pew, and process my confusion and pain…

Gradually, I allowed for more time away- traveling out of town and into nature…These hours away, in silence, graced me with peace of mind, and I found myself wanting to extend my stays. It quickly became apparent that I had developed a relationship with solitude- the stillness and silence I experienced when I spent hours along were more valuable than visits to the psychiatrists or workshops or lectures on selfhood.

I couldn’t agree more.

And so, in 10 degrees Fahrenheit, I left in the dark, while my family was still sleeping, on a very early Saturday morning in January, to follow my own intuitive need for silent retreat, and I headed north to a place I had long wanted to visit: St Joseph Abbey in Spencer, Massachusetts.

For some of you Seekers out there who have an interest in the Christian contemplative traditions, you may recognize the name “St. Joseph Abbey” as the monastery where the Roman Catholic monk Thomas Keating was the abbot from 1961-1981 during which time he conceptualized and heavily wrote about Centering Prayer.

Though I'm not a Catholic or even a Christian for that matter, exploring this path had long been an interest of mine, and after Thomas Keating died in October, 2018 at the age of 95, I had renewed interest to make a pilgrimage of sorts to the monastery where he developed his vision of Centering Prayer as a modern contemplative practice.

The whole retreat, start to finish, didn't take more than 7 hours in total, but the pay-off was well felt for days afterward- actually, I still feel the ripples now, nearly 3 weeks later.

And there is one unexpected moment in particular that I'd like to share, that I haven't yet shared aloud with anyone else just yet.

It happened in the quiet of the great big stone church that is St. Joseph Abbey, when I had decided I wanted to sit and practice Centering Prayer, as I understood it, using these words which have been my companion for the past 6 months or so:

Your will. Just this.

As in meditation, I used these words as both an anchor and a prayer, that I just repeated over and over as the minutes went by.

At this time it was well after the 6:40 a.m. Lauds (which reminded me of Gregorian Chanting) and the 7:07 a.m. Mass (which was a full Catholic service), and I was actually sitting all alone in a pew to the side that is reserved for visitors.

But then a funny thing happened.

I realized, somewhere along the way, my words had changed.  I was no longer repeating:

Your will. Just this. 

Instead, I was repeating over and over:

Your will. Trust this.

When I realized the transition that had occurred without my conscious awareness, I briefly smiled inward at the sacred beauty of the moment, and then decided to just keep on going with this new set of words:

Your will. Trust this.

I've included below some other photographs of the retreat.

For those of you who have already visited St. Joseph Abbey, you will recognize the spacious monastery grounds and the church with its gorgeous blue stained glass windows.

Perhaps you too can carve out an hour or a day for a retreat of your own in the near future.