The Presence of Healing

Recently my spouse took so sick from the winter virus that has plagued so many of us this year we needed to call an ambulance and have her taken to the hospital.  Once there she was stabilized and I sat at the end of the bed while the attendants poked, prodded, pinched and squeezed the body into the direction of healing.  I soon realized that another kind of healing was coming in the presence of the  person sitting at the side of the one who is ill—the presence of healing.

I was, however, aware that I too was becoming sick.  I didn’t want to alarm my spouse so I quietly excused myself and returned home for what I thought would be a short while to pick up clean clothes and check to see all was well at the house.  But the virus was a mean and insidious creature that soon took me down with chills, aches and pains, toying with my mind and balance.  I was not going to make it back to the hospital. 

I lay on the couch wondering what to do.  The weight of my responsibility as a caretaker who should be at the bedside of the one she loved was almost as bad as the virus that had overcome me.  What to do?  What I needed most was to sleep and what I wanted most was to be at the hospital.  But I had no choice in the matter so I called a dear friend and asked if she would be my proxy and sit by the side of our beloved one.  She said yes, and I then fell soundly asleep until the next day.

The specifics of the events that followed are not as pertinent as the simple act of someone being present to another.  Not only did this presence begin to heal the one in the hospital bed but it began to heal the one who was also at home with illness.  There are scores of examples where the mere presence of another loving person has become a healing or calming factor in an otherwise chaotic scenario. I think of  Job and his friends who sat with him during his crisis; of  Mary and Elizabeth who found comfort in each other’s presence as they faced an unknown future; of soldiers huddled together in a trench seeking strength from one another’s presence, perhaps even calming an uncontrollable fear.  The list goes on.  Maybe you have your own experience of presence.

This week I walked the sacred labyrinth with other women from my church.  The walk is always a sacred step but this night, as I watched the faces of the ones I have come to know and love, I was particularly filled with peace in my heart by the holy presence that each woman had for one another as they walked quietly through the paths.  And I was especially taken by the light on the face of my beloved, now healed from her illness, walking rhythmically to the sound of the harp playing, the soft sounds of fabric, the gentle breathing, simple healing presence that another brings to the moment.

                                        the Labyrinth at Asbury First United Methodist Church, Rochester, NY

The Snow Is Snowing

 

The snow is snowing, which it’s supposed to do in February here in Western NY.  It is a kind of lovely snowfall, full and white flakes determined to cover the ground and the trees, the bushes, sidewalks and rooftops.  If you venture to go for a walk, it will gladly cover you, too.

There is a Zen saying I recently read:  "The snow falls, each flake in its appropriate place."

As I went searching for the originator of that statement, I came across the following from a blog site by Jane Goodwin:  http://www.janegoodwin.net

These were a few favorite statements I liked about snow:

We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand … and melting like a snowflake.  Let us use it before it is too late. — Marie Beynon Ray

Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories. –From the movie An Affair to Remember

Silently, like thoughts that come and go, the snowflakes fall, each one a gem. — William Hamilton Gibson

The snow doesn’t give a soft white damn who it touches.   e e cummings

As the snow continues to fall outside my window today, there is a kind of melancholia that overcomes me.  Perhaps it’s memories of days gone by when I could actually “play” in the snow, full-snow-suited-up and not worrying one bit about frostbite.  Perhaps it is remembering that snow-shoeing trek I took a few years back with Pack, Paddle & Ski up in the Candice Hills and realized that it’s far easier to be at the end of the line of “walkers” than at the beginning.  Although I must say that being at the beginning of the line allows for one to view the forest untouched, blanketed white and shimmering with a kind of magical glow.  And you are the only one whose foot will touch the top of that white crest for that one moment in time.

As I bring my thoughts back into the “now”, and simply watch the snow fall, the melancholia drifts away.  The author who wrote “The snow falls, each flake in its appropriate place,” took the time to be in the “now” of that moment, not past, not future, and saw how the snowflakes fell one on one in their appropriate places.  All in all, it is only this moment in time that gives the greatest meaning to my life. 

O God, you are my God,

Earnestly I seek you;

My Soul thirsts for you,

My body longs for you,

In a dry and weary land

Where there is no water.

Psalm 63

 

How often I read or hear, “Where is God?” or “I am seeking God?”  It reminds me of when I am looking for the lost eyeglasses that are on the top of my head.  Why is it I can’t just feel the glasses on my head?  What made me put them there in the first place rather than down on the desk or table where I could then find them more easily when I need them?

 

One thing that comes to my mind is preoccupation.  How is it I get so tied up with my work or chores or whatever I might be worrying about at the moment that the preoccupation over shadows the most meaningful spaces of my time?  And why do I keep those resources or saving-graces so out of reach so that when I really need them, they are not there for my fortitude?

 

Ultimately, I believe I cannot be separated from God.  My Soul, my Spirit, the Light, the Energy, the essence of all things in and outside of me IS God, (aka: pantheism). Does that make me God?  Perhaps in some ways it does, in that it recognizes the God within.  But the human element called Ego, has the darnedest time letting go of materialism, control, attachment, worry, you get the idea. 

 

Until I can embrace the Divine within, I will always be looking for those glasses that are on top of my head. 

 

The Un-Mindfulness of Doing

The Un-Mindfulness of Doing

There is no where I have gone today that someone is not talking on their phone, using their iPad, texting while walking, driving or sitting on a bench; walking toward me on the sidewalk speaking to the Blue-Tooth on their ear or listening to sounds on a headset that is connected to something other than a human person.

There is a kind of awkwardness sitting alone in a café, having a cup of coffee waiting for your meal and not reading, texting, watching a nearby television or talking to someone.  You are there by yourself, with yourself and there is no external entertainment.  I will often take my pen and jot words on my paper napkin-- the start of a poem or essay-- a reminder of something I will do later in the day. This seems to fill the emptyness.  And yet "always doing" is extremely "unmindful."  When I sit quietly with my cup of coffee and become aware of this short-lived awkwardness, then I become centered.  I have learned to just sit and be quiet.  It's not always easy to be mindful in an unmindful world with such an enormous amount of distractions.  But mindful quietness is a gracious discipline that brings me peace of mind and closer to God.

 

I have recently read some poems of the Hindu mystic, Nanak.  As one of the great teachers for the Sikh community, he placed a great amount of emphasis on the need to wait for divine truth, to be silent before it.  His poems breathe a deep tranquility and he speaks of the value of pondering and listening;  “Those who hear, flower forever;  From listening, sin and sorrow disappear…”  He preferred to withdraw from the world rather than engage it.  He is said to have spent a great amount of his lifetime in silence, inactivity and somnolence.   It is also said that when he died, his body turned to vapor and two piles of flowers remained in its place. (1)

Here is part of a poem by Nanak that especially speaks to me:

If the True Guru is gracious

Trust becomes complete.

If the True Guru is gracious

No one ever wastes away.

If the True Guru is gracious

Trouble is a thing unknown.

If the True Guru is gracious

One is painted with God’s hue.

If the True Guru is gracious

How could there be fear of death?

If the True Guru is gracious

One is given instant joy.

If the True Guru is gracious

One finds life’s nine great jewels.

If the True Guru is gracious

One mingles with the Truth.

 

Nights, seasons, dates, times

Air, water, fire, hell:

In the midst of this is the earth,

A place to rest from travel and practice religion,

And in it there are manifold lives—

Names without number, names without end—

They act.  And when they act, notice is taken

By Someone who is true, whose court rules true,

Whose council of just ones radiates light

As the Vigilant One sets his mark on our deeds.

Well done or ill done—the verdict is found.

So says Nanak in chant and song.

 

(1)    Comments and poems taken from “Songs of the Saints of India,” Hawley and Juergensmeyer

 

 

A Tragedy of the Heart

"...the silence of God is God."  Carolyn Forche

There are no pure and simple words to explain the tragedy of children’s lives being recklessly destroyed.  And I cannot help but think of children in the Middle East who are dying of war; of children in Africa who are dying of AIDS; of children worldwide who are dying of starvation, domestic violence, and neglect.  Yet still, in this country they call “Leader of the Free World,” to have twenty children die at the hand of another near-child, we should call it a tragedy of the heart.

In this country of the free, children are dying daily through acts of violence.  They die and are taken from us way too soon.  Where is our hope of the future if our children do not live?  But that is another essay.  This one is about death.

For some of us, death is not an end but just the next step on a continued journey.  People die all the time; young and old alike.  And for many various reasons they die.  We die.

Perhaps we delude ourselves by thinking there is something beyond this life so that when the final breath is taken we will not be afraid. 

And what is in that moment?  Do we die alone?  Most think not.

Someone once said that at the moment of our death, when we cross over, we take with us all the love we have ever known, and all the love we have never known. 

Some say we are escorted by angels, by ancestors, by holy beings.

Some say we are reincarnated into the next personhood and that everyone in your life, at this very moment, you have known before, in another time.

Is there any solace in the death of a child whether it was by gunshot, by violence, by self wound, by accident, by disease?  People will say what they need to say and do what they need to do to get through the grief, the shock, the disbelief and the tremendous pain.  Can we hold one another long enough, close enough, strongly enough through the unbearable weight of remorse?

And what do we know of God?  Do you cry out in anger that God was there or that God was not there?

Does God Have Eyes?

A spiritual advisor said:

In trying to discover your true identity,

do not fixate on yourself;
simply gaze into God’s eyes,
and you will know all that you need to know about yourself.

The first thing that came to my mind upon reading this was, "Does God have eyes?"

Most people would say yes, of course, God sees all things.

But God is not a person. When asked, God said, "I Am." Or at least, that's what Moses thought he heard God say. Which begs the next question, "Does God have a voice?"

My dear friend and spiritual mentor Wilfredo suggests I rethink the statement above.  He says the following:

“What does it mean to gaze into God's eyes? Also, does God have a name? I think the question is a spiritual question, more than a physical one. It involves an act of imagination; perceiving God' eyes. The practice of gazing into God's eyes is merely a practical vehicle that at some time is disposable.  How about this as an alternative. It really is the same practice:”

In trying to discover your true identity,
Do not look out from yourself with your own eyes;

Replace your eyes with God's eyes and look out through them.
And you will know all that you need to know about God/yourself.

Now I am thinking about whether God has eyes, a voice, and a name. What else? Ears, fingers, arms, legs, toes...

If you/I were drawing God, what would God look like? Does God have a face?

The most reasonable answer for Christians is that God was made manifest in Jesus so we would have answers to these simple questions. But not everyone is a Christian, and I am a firm believer that God most certainly is far more than "Christian." God actually precedes Christianity, yes? God precedes humanity if I am to remember my catechism:

Question:

Who is God –

Answer:  God is the Supreme Being of All Things—God always was and always will be.

Nowhere have I read the answer to the question… What is God?

There are tons of websites on the topic of “God and Reality.”  One of my favorites, as it expresses the ideas of many theologians and spiritual beings is this one:

http://www.spaceandmotion.com/metaphysics-god-substance.htm

Here’s a thought on God from Albert Einstein:

I do not believe in a personal God and I have never denied this but have expressed it clearly. If something is in me which can be called religious then it is the unbounded admiration for the structure of the world so far as our science can reveal it. ... I believe in Spinoza's God who reveals himself in the orderly harmony of what exists, not in a God who concerns himself with the fates and actions of human beings.

Again I see the limitation of language… words to be exact;  Einstein calls God “he” and “himself.”

Another excellent website is: http://www.closertotruth.com/

Here, narrator and seeker, Robert Lawrence Kuhn says “To believe in God I need to understand God…” And he goes on a search far more intense than I have ever conceived I would do, though if given the means, I might.

Kuhn says, “Maybe doubt can be liberating… a passionate uncertainty.”

Other participants in the video called, “Does God Make Sense,” say these words:

Daniel Dennett, “There is no positive argument for the existence of God.”

Hossien Nasr, “God is infinite reality, beyond being, of which we cannot act or interact with…”

V.V. Raman, “God is not an entity but rather an experience… it doesn’t matter if we believe [in God] or not.”

Richard Swinburne, “God is like a personal being with infinite powers… not influenced by rational desires...”

Kuhn goes on to say that “If God exists in these ways, God would have built into our brains the capacity to simply believe [in God.]”

This seems a rather reasonable, logical answer, and it wouldn’t matter then if God were personal or not personal or had eyes or ears or a mouth to speak.  God would be in everything and in the nothing. 

Huston Smith, “Regarding God… what else makes sense?  No one has ever seen a thought, or a feeling…”

Now this last comment has me very intrigued and wondering… Does God exist as thought?  And if we all think of God as the essence of love and compassion, would that make this world or this life any different?

(I welcome your comments… and thoughts.)

Prayer

 

 

 

I remember being afraid of thunder storms as a child. I remember waking up in the middle of the night during one such barrage of noise and light that so frightened me I walked down the hallway to my mother's bedroom and stood by watching her sleep. Perhaps I thought I could think her awake. But she slept sound so I tapped her gently on the arm with my finger. I can still see her face look up at me with a start. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I'm afraid of the thunder." I replied with little drama, as I have always been somewhat protective of my emotions and often give the impression of this uncanny calm person in the storm. This dry display on the outside has often lead therapists and doctors who are not intuitive to diagnose me as being perfectly fine when on the inside I might be raging. So, of course, my mother said to me, "Go back to bed and say a prayer and you will be fine."

And I did and I was.

I have another memory of being afraid of the dark and my mother coming in to sit with me by my bed. She said all I had to do was pray and I would not be afraid. She taught me a prayer about guardian angels who would watch over me. To this day, I still think of that moment during fearful times and find comfort in its reasoning and probability.

I don't know if the simple act of a child’s prayer has significance in my memory bank of being something that would always be successful, as it worked perfectly well those two nights, and probably many other nights of now forgotten childhood trauma and fear.   I came to understand that God was listening to me and I would be fine if I prayed.

The Catholics seem to have prayer categorized the most with petition prayers, prayers of absolution, tons of prayers for all kinds of occasions;  so many I won’t go into them.  I was raised Catholic and can still remember learning my prayers, especially the ones I needed to know when I went into that tall wooden box with the velvet curtain to tell the priest I had chewed gum at mass and lied to a nun.  “Say 5 Hail Mary’s, my child!”

Over the years I have studied various methods of prayer.  Centering prayer, Ignatius prayer, Lectio Divina, Walking Prayer, Chanting, Imaging, using art, music, and even sweat lodge prayers.  But I must say the most simple and efficient prayer for me consists of stopping what I’m doing and taking time to be with God.  Someone once said that all God wants from us at times is simply our presence.  We don’t have to pray or talk or even think.  I do believe that is probably the most perfect way of prayer.

And so I thank my mother for teaching me that simple act—that all I have to do is say a prayer and go back to sleep.