In honor of Earth Day I’ll be posting and blogging about ecospiritual poems this week over at inscendence.
And forget not that the Earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair. ~ Kahlil Gibran
And forget not that the Earth delights to feel your bare paws and the winds long to play with your fur. ~ my dog Saxon
The grace that is the health of creatures can only be held in common.
In healing the scattered members come together.
In health the flesh is graced, the holy enters the world.
~ Wendell Berry
This quote is from “Healing” a piece in Berry’s What are Humans For?
It’s a question that I have been contemplating, and the excerpt by Gary Snyder posted recently at Turtle Rock Farm raised it again. Snyder talks about the beings of the world as having been called forth by their fellows and by the larger creative, evolutionary process. I encourage you to read it and ponder. There’s a similar idea here in “Healing” — that health, in its broadest sense, arises from the connections and relationships within the whole. And that this wholeness is holy.
I want to write more about this healing, but I’m going to be doing it at another blog. My new blog will be more focused on nature and spirit. On discovering one’s true nature in nature. On inscendence.
I have been deeply inspired by the way other bloggers are exploring this theme, mostly implicitly. It just comes out of the way they are being in the world. So beautiful. Many thanks to Genie, Kai, Maximillian and Mike, to name just a few, for the way they share their gifts of reverence and presence. My hope is that my new blog will allow me to add my voice to the same cosmic liturgy.
Thanks for reading soul-in-progress. I’m not sure if I will be posting much here any more. But I’d love to have you join me over at inscendence.
credit: Andreas Krappweis
To praise the sun is to praise your own eyes. ~Rumi
This human self-awareness is tricky. In the context of our mainstream culture, where the goal of life seems to be to acquire material things or status markers that will make us feel good (i.e. safe), self-awareness gets hijacked and tethered to superficial pursuits.
We can get lost in it, ending up in a blind alley of narcissism and selfishness. I think spiritual teachings that encourage us to focus purely on transcendence can lead us to a similar sort of place, though the accompanying narrative is more meaningful. There’s a feeling of detachment and isolation in the notion of moving beyond the messiness of life. And we can become obsessed with our progress in doing so.
In both cases, our self-awareness seems to be put in the service of answering that very human question: “How am I doing?”
In contrast, Rumi’s version of self-awareness reflects a profoundly intentional embodiment, connectedness, and sense of the greater unfolding in which we are embedded, and its beauty and value. I think we are self-aware in order to praise the sun. And to praise our self-awareness in the midst of that appreciation and delight. I think we are self-aware because it allows a special kind of gratitude. What a privilege to dwell inside that thank you.
credit: Barun Patro
We must also remember that we are the Spirit’s intention, each of us. Each of us is an expression of Incomprehensible Holy Mystery’s intentionality, its effort to engage in the world, to become more present in the world, to tangibly incarnate a greater portion of itself in and for our Earth community. ~ Judy Cannato
When we really start to understand what Judy is talking about it becomes all but impossible to live without reverence. And attention. Then we begin to know that we are always moving in and through wholeness, connection, and ultimately, love. Then we begin to appreciate that way of knowing that is not conceptual, but perceptual, embodied, experiential.
We have forgotten. But we can remember.
credit: Dave Heinzel
It’s time I shared another reflection on a favorite poem. This one is by Mark Strand. Generally I find his poetry gray and tepid, and there are many times when that’s exactly what is called for. As Auden put it: the clear expression of mixed feelings.
I’ve been musing and reading much on nonduality lately, so this poem hits the spot. In my last post I talked about transcendence and the fantasy of escape that pervades much spirituality. While I focused on the New Age story of ascension, as I’ve suggested before, I think this is a major current in nondual approaches too. That’s unfortunate and maybe more a reflection of the times and the broader culture than anything inherent in nonduality. But then again, perhaps not.
What I appreciate most about nonduality is how it can challenge us with acceptance. With inhabiting our lives fully, without flinching or turning away. With the relentlessness of reality. I feel disappointed when I see it used as another place to hide out. Again, this is in keeping with our culture of disengagement and disembodiment, so it’s no surprise. But I believe nondual spirituality is most helpful at this particular time and place when it calls us to inscendence and intimacy.
Here, Mark Strand sways between inscendence and transcendence, and shows us how it’s done.
Keeping Things Whole
In a field
I am the absence
of field.
This is
always the case.
Wherever I am
I am what is missing.When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in
to fill the spaces
where my body’s been.We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole.
credit: Ramon Souza
The equinox is approaching and it’s garden-planning time. This will be the year of my experiment with quinoa. And it’s finally snowing here at the edge of the Rockies. Excellent.
As I watch the snow I’ve been reflecting on divine immanence and the great need we have these days for “inscendence” instead of transcendence, as Thomas Berry put it. What does it truly look like to see the Divine in everything? In things, in the physical, in nature. What is it like to live that?
We are so disconnected from the real. We are so far away from what is real that we barely remember it. We walk only from our climate-controlled cars to our climate-controlled buildings. Our world is artificially lit. We wrap everything in plastic. In groups, we thumb our gadgets feverishly, avoiding eye contact. Not speaking. I am grateful to James, for his Mansion series, which elegantly captures our self-incarceration in sterile loops of mental structures. How we are comfortable, self-satisfied, and completely neutralized.
With such a cultural backdrop the current New Age fascination with “ascension” is not surprising. I’m fascinated at the parallels with the apocalyptic currents that were common around the time of Jesus. As it was back then, our world is chaotic, overwhelming, and confusing as the current empire lurches inexorably toward self-destruction. Like then, we are told that the time is at hand, and that all of this must be left behind. When the going gets tough, the faithful ascend.
The dogma of ascension is completely consistent with mainstream culture. It affirms the same patterns of disengagement, non-participation, and disembodiment. We are little packets of consciousness on our way to somewhere else. Somewhere more valid. Safer. Sadly, ascension affirms the deep belief that we don’t belong. And that the living, breathing world around us doesn’t matter.
But these quinoa seeds tell me something different. “Plant us,” they whisper. “We want to feed you with light. Here.”
Anyone who pays attention to their insides eventually notices the inner human impulse to constantly move out of the present moment. I’ve been focusing on this a lot this lately and have observed two different aspects within this movement.
One has to do with a core need to control everything. My inner control freak is an absolutely fundamental part of my pattern of being in the world. I notice that I have a compulsion to manage, organize, and finesse every object, occurrence, and structure of reality. My mind wants to touch everything and shape it. This tendency continually takes me off the flowing path of presence and down little side trails.
Of course a lot of this mental activity is necessary and unavoidable. But I definitely overdo it. I recognize that it’s not helpful to give myself a hard time about it. Instead, I just notice when I’m doing it and create a little distance from that part of myself, rather than collapsing into it.
A second thing that’s going on is what A.H. Almaas describes as the failure to value the present moment. In other words: the failure to value direct contact with my True Nature, when this is probably the only thing of ultimate value. On the face of it, this sounds obvious. But lately I have been working with the exercise of inquiring into what really, deeply, relentlessly prevents me from loving and fully settling into the present moment. What is actually going on? What do I believe or assume that keeps me from groking that being in contact with my True Nature is what gives existence meaning?
As I see those structures and beliefs operating I feel a sense of embarrassment, surprise, and amusement. And it helps. For example, I find that I believe that only certain types of activities are important and valuable. So if a particular moment is not associated with that sort of activity, I don’t sense its value. I really do believe that. And if I examine that belief more deeply, I learn all kinds of things about the way it is shaping my life.
As I write this I sense that it all sounds obvious and simple. But like any practice, it really means nothing until applied in real experience. Only a small part of us functions in the abstract (though often it seems like it’s our favorite part – ha!). Noticing my beliefs and conditioning in-process creates space. I don’t have to then turn them into problems or projects. Just noticing is enough. When I bring them into awareness they shift on their own.
credit: Keith M.
Last night my husband and I were talking about nondual teachings again. And then Marga’s engaging post about actualization and the no self really got me thinking. There was a time when I was really into that stuff. I used to hang on Adyashanti’s every word, hoping for the arrival of my own liberation. But for better or worse, I gradually let go of those aspirations.
The paradox and adventure of being human is that while it is true that we are Soul/essence, we have also chosen to show up in limited form. Our primoridal essence is divine, unlimited, and needs nothing. It is simply Beingness. Yet in choosing to show up in this world of limitation we create soul structures. The ego is the vehicle we necessarily construct in order to function in the world of limitation. It is unavoidable. And it’s a pain in the ass. But trying to live without an ego is kind of like trying to live without a body. It’s not really workable.
Many nondual teachings are about returning to primordial essence and bypassing the messy hassles of the ego-body vehicle. If we can step out of form and abide in formlessness, we don’t have to suffer. In other words, for some folks the goal is to die before we die so we can avoid the discomfort of life. Of course it is true that our essential nature is infinite and devoid of suffering. But I think it’s also true that we came here to do more than commit suicide.
Now I don’t want to unfairly suggest that all nondual teachings are about avoidance. Some teachers do address the second core spiritual question of “how shall I live?” (And not confine themselves to the first core question of “who am I?”) Such teachers incorporate a more balanced approach of working with form and formlessness. But I do think there is a lot of what Andrew Cohen calls “pre-modern enlightenment” teachings, where the goal is simply to return to essence and not actually participate in life. This is unfortunate because the world needs our participation. It is also sad because within those approaches there’s often a subtle hatred of form, and it becomes self-directed. As in: I hate my ego and I want to kill it.
My view is that spirituality is really about working with the tension between our unlimited essence and our limited form. That’s the human journey. That’s what we came here to play with. In working with the ego structures I am less interested in suicide and more interested in having a light vehicle.
I love this journey. I am thrilled to be on it. But I want to take the journey on a bicycle instead of in a hummer. On a bicycle I get to go slower, be more receptive, notice more, get to know the terrain, feel my muscles moving, and be out in the weather.
I came here for the weather.
credit: Andreas Krappweis
Tu B’Shevat is an obscure Jewish holy day also known as the Festival of the New Year for the Trees. It begins at sundown today and ends at sundown on Saturday. I know very little about Judaism, but I am always intrigued to learn of earthly elements in theistic traditions.
The Festival honors the beginning of the rising of sap in trees and the renewal of life that spring brings. On Tu B’Shevat we are encouraged to look to trees as teachers, connecting with the energy of the sap rising and spreading out to each branch.
We all experience winters. Sometimes our challenges can seem cold, dark, and brutal. We can feel frozen. Our life force can feel like it has faded to a flicker. Many times it can seem like we’ve come to a standstill with a thick layer of snow covering us.
The Festival of the New Year for the Trees is a good time to reflect on the lessons of our winters, but also to focus on the hope of rejuvenation. Even when it seems like nothing is happening, the sap begins to rise. Perhaps we can feel it in ourselves also.
Traditionally the Festival is marked with the planting of new trees or the eating of new fruit. I love the idea of honoring trees in this way. In a few short months they will be making leaves again and transmuting light into form and fruit. Photosynthesis is the earth community’s original miracle. Our ultimate spiritual metaphor.
I won’t be planting a tree tomorrow, but I will make a donation to the Fruit Tree Planting Foundation to do it on my behalf. They have beautiful projects that connect sustainability, food security, and partnering with trees. I will have some jam, made this past autumn from the fruit of my plum trees. And we’ll have a long conversation.
Celebrate our noble siblings the trees. It is winter and the sap rises unseen.
credit: Michael Maggs
Dissociation basically means detachment from reality. Also fragmentation of the self into compartments. It occurs to me that this is essentially our spiritual predicament. The wisdom traditions all talk in different ways about a fundamental confusion or error. They speak of us going off course and losing our true nature. The soul dissociates. We get stuck in a tiny fragment of identity and limitation.
A.H. Almaas has written extensively, and I do mean extensively, about how normal ego development results in a freaky division between our essence and our ego-self. In order to create a viable ego-self it is as though we have to give up abiding in our true nature. As Freud observed, as infants we externalize our experience, our world, our good, beginning with our mother’s breast and escalating from there. In order to survive, we lose track of our Beingness. Damn.
In the post-Cartesian modern world, where spirituality is marginalized and secularism rules the day, we have additional challenges. The point of life is no longer to discover, integrate, and express our authentic souls. Nowadays life is mostly about seeking external validation through achievement and status recognition. This doesn’t resolve our basic existential uneasiness, but it’s the strategy our culture has conditioned us to pursue in order to feel better. To maybe feel something approximating security or power. Unfortunately it doesn’t work terribly well.
Back when we had soulful cultures we handled the dissociation with stories and wisdom teachings to get us back on track. There was a deep understanding of the larger plot and that knowing was woven into culture. Like in this story about the Sufi Mullah Nasruddin:
A man is walking down the street and encounters Nasruddin, down on his hands and knees under a lamp post. “What are you doing?” he asks. Nasruddin explains that he has lost the key to his house. “Please, kind sir, will you help me look for it?” The man agrees and together they spend quite a long time groping around searching for the key. Finally, the man asks Nasruddin “are you sure you dropped it here?” And Nasruddin replies, “Oh no, I lost it somewhere in my house.” The man exclaims, “Then why are we wasting all this time searching out here in the street?” And Nasruddin answers, “Well, because this is where the lamp post is. There’s light out here and I can see where I’m looking.”
Go inside and turn the lights on.
