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Friday, April 22, 2016

Staying on the Path

I recently encountered the words of a man named Bertrand Russell for the first time.
Bertrand Russell (1872 –1970) was a British man described as a “philosopher, logician, mathematician, historian, writer, social critic, political activist and Nobel laureate.”
What a list! How could I have missed him?
In his lifetime he stood up as a pacifist during World War I, and even spoke out again late in his life during the time of the Vietnam War.
In the Prologue to Mr. Russell’s own autobiography he wrote the following passage called: “What I Have Lived For.”
I offer it as a gift to you, as it had been a gift to me, in the hopes that it may put into context the many varied (and buried) sides of ourselves that we become more aware of as we awaken in a spiritual unfolding through our contemplative and religious practices that may be more or less prominent at any given moment in our one, heroic journey through this thing we call life.
Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. These passions, like great winds, have blown me hither and thither, in a wayward course, over a great ocean of anguish, reaching to the very verge of despair.
I have sought love, first, because it brings ecstasy - ecstasy so great that I would often have sacrificed all the rest of life for a few hours of this joy. I have sought it, next, because it relieves loneliness--that terrible loneliness in which one shivering consciousness looks over the rim of the world into the cold unfathomable lifeless abyss. I have sought it finally, because in the union of love I have seen, in a mystic miniature, the prefiguring vision of the heaven that saints and poets have imagined. This is what I sought, and though it might seem too good for human life, this is what--at last--I have found.
With equal passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the hearts of men. I have wished to know why the stars shine. And I have tried to apprehend the Pythagorean power by which number holds sway above the flux. A little of this, but not much, I have achieved.
Love and knowledge, so far as they were possible, led upward toward the heavens. But always pity brought me back to earth. Echoes of cries of pain reverberate in my heart. Children in famine, victims tortured by oppressors, helpless old people a burden to their sons, and the whole world of loneliness, poverty, and pain make a mockery of what human life should be. I long to alleviate this evil, but I cannot, and I too suffer.
This has been my life. I have found it worth living, and would gladly live it again if the chance were offered me.
I love Mr. Russell’s honesty and transparency that life may not have always felt like a day at Six Flags Amusement Park, and yet he has “found it worth living, and would gladly live it again.”
It reminds me of Albert Camus who wrote another 20th century philosophical essay titled “The Myth of Sisyphus” in which he concluded a man or woman could have a life worth living while rolling the metaphorical boulder up the hill, not in spite of it.  He said,
The struggle itself...is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.
I recently shared in my blog entry Poetry 103 some reflections that have generated from these contemplative practices that remind me of Buddhist teacher and author Thich Nhat Hanh’s concept of emotions as seedlings that lie dormant inside of us at all times- until they are not dormant that is.

As I’ve said before, this spiritual life stuff is not for the faint hearted.

I wrote a few months ago about the 2010 film called “The Way” starring Martin Sheen, directed by his son Emilio Estevez.  It is the story of a grieving father who makes the decision to hike El Camino de Santiago in France and Northern Spain in memory of his son who was never able to complete the journey himself.

One favorite aspect of the movie was the salutation “Buen Camino!” used again and again by all the characters who are hiking the trail, as well as all of the folks along the way who are supporting the hikers to continue on.

“Buen Camino” seemed to be both an aspiration and a prayer. By infusing these two words with hope and excitement as well as grit and determination the characters conveyed the understanding that such a journey is not an easy one to follow all the way through to the end.

I imagine saying these words to any fellow pilgrims I meet along my spiritual path, wherever it may take me.  (Which is to say, I could say it to every person I encounter throughout the rest of my day, week, year, lifetime).  I could also say it to every brand new infant baby as they take their first steps on this earth.  Buen Camino. An aspiration and a prayer.

Like Mr. Russell himself, Kudos to all of you, us, who stay on the path toward authenticity, truth, meaning and peace.

And of course, “Buen Camino.”

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Poetry 103: So Wide and So Deep & Incompatible Companion

So Wide and So Deep
If I am still for long enough,
I mean really still,
I will be reminded of an ocean of grief inside of me.

It is an ocean so wide and so deep
that I could not cry all its tears in one single lifetime.

So I move.

Move my feet.
Move my hands.
Move my attention.
Move my intellect.

Taste it. Touch it. Feel it. See it. Hear it.
Go out.
For god’s sake, go out!
Don’t go in.
Never go in.

In, is an abyss of heartache.
In, is a pain so wide and so deep
it could fill an ocean with its tears.

-Me

Incompatible Companion
Sadness is my everyday companion.
Wherever I go,
she goes with me.

I've come to believe though,
it's not a bad thing-
nor very remarkable.

In the least dismissive way,
it is what it is.

There was a time I tried to hide it.

From myself.
From the world.

Fruitless. 

But you already knew that.

All it really means now
is that I love the world deeply,
and I know I can't help it.

I will always want to cry when I hear a child was raped.
My chest will hurt every time I hear a bomb exploded in a park in Pakistan.

Though my nightmares haunt me,
I wear my heart on the outside.

Is there any other way to live?

-Me

Spaces of Ideas, Hope & Activism

While listening to the 2016 United States Presidential Campaign media coverage I am reminded of a message I once heard from Western Buddhist teacher and author Jack Kornfield: there is a need for “moral leadership.”

“Moral leadership…” These two words reverberated deeply with me; probably because I was surprised by the language itself and the source of the language.

As a Social Worker, a Democrat and a Unitarian Universalist, I am undoubtedly left of liberal; which is why I found it so interesting that I still twitch every time words like “morality” are used in the context of governance. 

As someone whose politics are acutely intertwined with moral and ethical belief systems, it makes absolute sense that I would hope and, might I be so bold to say, expect to have moral leadership.

The problem for me though is that the media has over-associated moral leadership with political and religious groups that do not reflect my own morals and ethics.  And, my own political and religious groups have under-associated themselves with moral leadership- deciding instead to maintain a secular or neutral façade, to their own detriment I might add.

For this reason, in order to de-program my brain from the media’s sound bites that somehow infiltrate no matter how discerning I may be with my viewing and listening, I have found it is a must for me to intentionally expose myself to spaces of free exchanges of ideas, hope and activism that represent and cultivate my own values, namely: the worth and dignity of every human being.

Admittedly, at times it can feel like these spaces of ideas hope and activism can be a little like looking for a needle in haystack.  For this reason, I must remain vigilant because despair can be a very convenient rabbit hole to slide down if I am not careful.

This creates a dilemma.  And one which I know others may be concerned about as well.

In an interview with Maria Popova, the creator and writer of the website BrainPickings, she said,
I think a lot about this relationship between cynicism and hope. And critical thinking without hope is cynicism. But hope without critical thinking is naïveté. And I try to live in this place between the two to try to build a life there because finding fault and feeling hopeless about improving our situation produces resignation of which cynicism is a symptom and against which it is the sort of futile self-protection mechanism.
But on the other hand, believing blindly that everything will work out just fine also produces a kind of resignation because we have no motive to apply ourselves toward making things better. And I think in order to survive, both as individuals and as a civilization, but especially in order to thrive, we need to bridge critical thinking with hope.

I agree with Ms. Popova’s statement wholeheartedly.  In fact, hope and critical thinking in combination with activism may be the very definition of moral leadership because it may create the perfect formula for Right or Wise Action.

As Dr. Jerome Groopman notes in his definition of hope from his book The Anatomy of Hope: How People Prevail in the Face of Illness:
Hope, then, is the ballast that keeps us steady, that recognizes where along the path are the dangers and pitfalls that can throw us off; hope tempers fear so we can recognize dangers and then bypass or endure them.

He then acknowledges that hope is not a Pollyanna concept of unicorns and rainbows but is in fact a powerful tool for thoughtful forward movement. In this, he distinguishes between “true” hope from “false” hope.
False hope does not recognize the risks and dangers that true hope does. False hope can lead to intemperate choices and flawed decision making. True hope takes into account the real threats that exist and seeks to navigate the best path around them.

Dr. Groopman’s definition of hope is one of my personal favorites, and I hold it in my mind’s eye as I scan the horizon for examples of those spaces of free exchanges of ideas, hope and activism that can defuse the enticement of cynicism.

Sometimes I find examples of these spaces in the past.

Recently I encountered a mid to late 20th Century book series called: World Perspectives, edited by Ruth Nanda Anshen.

Pragmatically, World Perspectives is a book series of 45 volumes, each by an intellectual and/or spiritual author as diverse as Margaret Mead to D.T. Suzuki and with titles like: The Revolution of Hope, Toward a Humanized Technology and World Indivisible, With Liberty and Justice for All.

As someone who is too old to be called a Millennial (a proud Gen X’er actually!) and whose adolescence predated email and internet (or the “World Wide Web” as it was first introduced to me), I still find hardcover books familiar and resourceful. 

But in this case, more than that, I find it to be a source of relief that there was a person out there (a woman no less!) who was born in the year 1900, and had the foresight to use her resources to create what she called an “intellectual and spiritual movement” in a series of books whose sole purpose was to relate
the accumulated wisdom of man’s spirit to the new reality of the World Age…In articulating its thought and belief, World Perspectives seeks to encourage a renaissance of hope in society and of pride in man’s decision as to what his destiny will be…[To] define that ecumenical power of the mind and heart which enables man through his mysterious greatness to re-create his life.

I love this line “a renaissance of hope in society.”  Amen to that.

It seems Ms. Nanda was part of the cohort who believed that the 20th century marked a critical moment in evolutionary history of humankind.  In her introduction to the World Perspectives series she says:
Man has entered a new era of evolutionary history, one in which rapid change is a dominant consequence. He is contending with a fundamental change, since he has intervened in the evolutionary process. He must now better appreciate this fact and then develop the wisdom to direct the process toward this fulfillment rather than toward his destruction.

Ms. Nanda appears to have had tremendous concern (or maybe she even shared my propensity for despair…) for the responsibility that 20th century human beings had inherited from their evolutionary predecessors.

Personally and historically it all makes sense.

Ms. Nanda was herself born to Jewish Russian immigrants, and then she lived through literally all of the 20th century world-wide civil wars, World Wars and genocides to the ripe old age of 103, giving her a “perspective” unlike I will ever know.

What is most interesting to me though, and most unexpected, is Ms. Nanda appears to maintain a sense of hopefulness and activism in the company of her concern.


In her Introduction to the series she says things like:
we may come to understand that there exists an inherent interdependence of spiritual and mental growth which, though conditioned by circumstances, is never determined by circumstances.

“Conditioned” but never “determined.”  A bold statement that conveys both hope and activism to be sure.

It seems in creating the World Perspectives book series Ms. Nanda was creating a “space” for knowledge and intelligent dialogue that might shape the future of humankind and the planet in positive ways.  Moreover, this woman born well over a hundred years ago does not shy away from using language akin to Jack Kornfield’s “moral leadership.”

In fact she declares the necessity for “values” within this dialogue. 
Judgments of value must henceforth direct technological change, for without such values man is divested of his humanity and of his need to collaborate with the very fabric of the universe in order to bestow meaning, purpose, and dignity upon his existence.” 

“Collaborate,” not dominate, with the very fabric of the universe. Enlightened and radical. (I hope they are having these conversations at NASA, the Pentagon, Exon Mobile, Google and Apple…)

In a nod to Earth Day on April 22nd this year, Ms. Nanda would still be considered progressive in 2016 in her very appreciation and respect for our organically interdependent earth and natural world. 
We are all becoming seriously concerned with our natural environment…It is the result of a deepening awareness that something new has happened, that the planet Earth is a unique and precious place.”

Reading Ms. Nanda’s writing, and learning about her passionate reverence for bringing modern, progressive thinkers together, reminded me of an earlier moral leader who also used her resources for the cause of improving civilization and humankind: Elizabeth Palmer Peabody.

Also born in eastern Massachusetts an entire century before Ms. Nanda, without the ability for such mass publication of books like World Perspectives, Elizabeth Peabody relied upon assets like her own bookshop to create space for “Conversations” that would gather women together to discuss diverse areas of interest and concern.  She also acted as business manager for The Dial, a transcendental magazine of the times of which Ralph Waldo Emerson was a part, and worked to publish and sell modern and progressive nonfiction books and periodicals of the day in her bookshop.

Oh, and did I mention Ms. Peabody can be thanked for establishing Kindergarten in the United States- talk about spaces of ideas, hope and activism!

Flash forward to 2016.

I am still looking for those spaces of free exchanges of ideas hope and activism—particularly those organized by women, but not exclusively—and I see modern day versions for Ms. Nanda’s World Perspectives and Ms. Peabody’s Conversations in Krista Tippett’s NPR Radio Show On Being and in Maria Popova’s website BrainPickings.  I also see it in the values and actions of the Unitarian Universalist Church.  Internationally, I see it in organizations like The United Nations, and in grassroots I see it in the Democratic Republic of Congo at Eve Ensler’s City of Joy (a recovery center for survivors of rape).

It still doesn’t feel like enough though does it?

What other spaces might there be? Do you know of any?

Friday, April 15, 2016

Unexpected Sources of Interconnection

Recently I saw a touching video about a pig named Emma.

The video was made by a farmer named John Chester who tells the dramatic birthing story of a mama pig named Emma who lives on his farm at Apricot Lane Farms in California, and very nearly died after the birthing 13 piglets.
Now, if you love animals as I do, this video will be a must-see for you just because the pigs are just so darn cute! 
But a funny thing happened to me when I watched this video that was unexpected and additional to the cute-factor: I felt interconnection with a pig.
In the video we watch the story unfold of how Emma gives birth to these 13 piglets, but then quickly deteriorates due to a high fever and no appetite to the point that she is unable to care for her babies and it looks like she might die.
Fast forward, the farmer then decides to reverse his decision to have his human friends take care of the piglets with bottles of milk, and instead gives the responsibility back to Emma.  And what happens you ask?
According to an article in the Huffington Post from February 24, 2015 called “This Mama Pig Was On The Brink Of Death -- Until Her Own Piglets Saved Her:”
Moments after reuniting with her piglets, Emma's condition seemed to improve. Slowly, she stood and walked over to a trough to eat.
The farmer, John Chester, was quoted in the article as saying:
If I hadn't seen this with my own eyes, I would have never believed it …I like to think Emma was saved by us, but it's so obvious that she was saved by her calling…In her case, it was to be a mom...Some might say that the very thing that could threaten to take us down in life can, at times, be the one thing that keeps us alive.
When I had both my children, I too had complications- in the pregnancy, in the birth, and in the post-partum period.  Like Emma though, I too believe my recovery was aided not only by modern western medicine, but also by the primal—animal—connection to my children.
I’ll tell you, having this moment of such visceral interconnection with a pig in regards to one of the most difficult and vulnerable periods in my life was, to be frank, quite odd and unexpected.
The interesting thing is, it happened again not long after.
I was reading a book called True Refuge by Tara Brach, and in the book Ms. Brach referred to a quote by another author named Fran Peavey in her book Heart Politics.
In the quote, Ms. Peavey describes her own real-life example of interconnection with a chimpanzee.
One day I was walking through the Stanford University campus with a friend when I saw a crowd of people with cameras and video equipment on a little hillside. They were clustered around a pair of chimpanzees - a male running loose and a female on a chain about twenty-five feet long. It turned out the male was from Marine World and the female was being studied for something or other at Stanford. The spectators were scientists and publicity people trying to get them to mate.
The male was eager. He grunted and grabbed the female's chain and tugged. She whimpered and backed away. He pulled again. She pulled back. Watching the chimps' faces, I [a woman] began to feel sympathy for the female.
Suddenly the female chimp yanked her chain out of the male's grasp. To my amazement, she walked through the crowd, straight over to me, and took my hand. Then she led me across the circle to the only other two women in the crowd, and she joined hands with one of them. The three of us stood together in a circle. I remember the feeling of that rough palm against mine. The little chimp had recognized us and reached out across all the years of evolution to form her own support group.
I love this story.
In part, because I am a woman too, and the theme of female interconnection is so moving, but also because the experience of reading about Ms. Peavey’s moment of interconnection with an animal had been on the coat tails of my own experience with Emma the pig.  Now it was twice that I was noticing interconnection with animals.
About a year ago I wrote a blog called “Spiritual Life Stages” in which I talked about phases or “Acts” (like in a play) of spiritual development in my own particular journey.  I named the current spiritual stage that I am in right now: “Act III: We Are: Community” with the primary spiritual task being: interconnection.
However, when I identified this spiritual undertaking or mission I realize now I was not, to use a popular phrase of the 1990’s, thinking outside the box.
At that time, I had had a narrow view of interconnection that was restricted to only people, and I now see how very small I was conceptualizing this spiritual endeavor.
I do not judge myself for this near miss in my spiritual development. The philosophy of dialectics, of which I am a very committed student, tells us that it takes intention and practice to ask ourselves “what might I be leaving out?”
Our oh-so-human brains can very easily, habitually and automatically narrow the focus of our attention without our awareness.

There is a great video available on YouTube that captures this truth so perfectly.
I don’t want to give away too much, but if you Google “Awareness Test” you will be directed to a 1 minute 7 second Australian public service announcement that visually demonstrates far better than words ever could how unsophisticated our brains are in many ways in the fact that one area of our brain may not always communicate well with another area of our brain unless we intentionally practice bringing the two (billion) areas together.
It’s interesting too, because now that I am making an effort to “think outside the box” of what interconnection means and with whom (or what) the experience can occur, you guessed it, I am experiencing interconnection with more and more unexpected sources.
Two quick examples.
One new experience of interconnection is happening with this very blog. 
I began this blog in the summer of 2014 mainly because I noticed my mind was filling up with words and ideas and connections that I needed to organize and put out there in order to maintain my sanity. Plus, I couldn’t keep filling up my friends’ email inboxes with long ramblings about my spiritual life.
(And a relevant sidebar is to note that I am probably one of the least technically savvy people that you could possibly meet.)
So I decided to start writing a blog.
However, unexpectedly, well over a year into writing this blog I learned that the blog site itself would tell me from which countries around the world someone might be looking at my blog from.
To me, this was very exciting.
I began to keep a list of all of the countries that were being shown to have viewed this blog.  They included:
Germany
Romania
Mexico
Canada
France
Ukraine
Singapore
China
Russia
USA
Australia
Sweden
Romania, and most recently
Poland.
I love this list. I love its diversity and inter-hemispheric quality.
Now, whenever I see a new country listed, I imagine a map of the world on my wall, and I can visualize another string connecting me, in New England in the United States, to someone else in another country, or continent, or hemisphere, and I feel a deep sense of interconnection.
One more example of unexpected interconnection with inanimate objects.
Awareness of interconnection with inanimate objects happened just this past week, and was precipitated by a poem by David Whyte called: “Everything is Waiting for You” that goes like this:
Your great mistake — Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice
You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you courage.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity. Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
The tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything, everything, everything is waiting for you.
A soap dish. A window latch. A kettle. Now, I am really thinking outside the box.  And yet, does not this chair I am sitting on hold up my backside? Does not this floor keep me from falling down? 
Interconnection with inanimate objects is in some ways extraordinarily comforting because god knows, they are everywhere!
And one of the many great fruits of noticing interconnection is, at least for me anyway, gratitude tends to immediately follow.
What are the unexpected sources of your experiences of interconnection?