Tag: awareness

All I Need to Know

I have always loved the phrase that many Native Americans use to refer to God and all of life: “The Great Mystery.” There is such wisdom and spiritual surrender in those words, a quiet acknowledgment that the universe and our place in it cannot be fully understood by the human mind. This wondrous mystery is what I experience when I walk alone in Nature or stare up at the stars at night.

Wonder, and joy at the beauty. Yet, for me there has also always been an element of sadness in contemplating eternity and my place in it. As a child I felt great fear when thinking of my life within infinity and the “world going on forever.” It was only in my adult spiritual quest that I came to a deepening and expansion of my awareness and a loosening of the fear. In “accepting what is” I found solace for my sorrow. When I stopped trying to find an explanation for life, the closed doors of my perception opened to the experience of Spirit, my soul’s essence and what is at the heart of all existence.

Even at times of emotional and physical challenge (the death of my parents; treatment for breast cancer), the presence of Spirit has sustained me. There will always be a mixture of thoughts and feelings when I look at the world that surrounds me: love of life as well as grief at its transitory, impermanent nature. When sadness arises, I have learned over the years that the wisest response is surrender: accepting those sad feelings and realizing they are only one part of who I am. It is my human identity that feels fear or grief; my soul witnesses all of life peacefully, without question or judgment. Within that peace, I let everything go and live in the Mystery. I don’t need to know all the answers; I just remain open to experiencing the beauty and wonder available to me in every moment.

I recently had an experience that highlighted this wisdom. I am an avid birdwatcher, and every year I visit Mt. Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, Massachusetts, for the spring bird migration. Hundreds of migrating birds come through the cemetery because of its beautiful habitat, and local birders are there to greet them. On one particular morning, after days of rain, I walked inside the front gate and paused to get out my binoculars. A man standing nearby enthusiastically commented on the beauty of the day and how he was certain the end of the rain would bring all the birds in. I agreed with him, and as I started to walk away, he added, “I don’t know much about science or exact bird identification, but I know how beautiful and special each one is.” “And that’s all you need to know,” I replied.

 At that, he burst, quite loudly, into song: “That may be all I need to know….” He laughed delightedly as he finished and asked me if I knew the song. I smiled and said, “Yes, I do.” So he sang it all over again, practically vibrating with joy. We then wished each other a wonderful day, and each went our way. As I turned to look back at him, he was still smiling and singing to himself. What sweet synchronicity in encountering this rather eccentric earth angel who reminded me of the wisdom of life’s beauty. I am surrounded by that beauty with every step. And, truly, that is all I need to know, ever.

God Rides the Subway

People in the Western world have been taught that God, or Spirit, is something accessed primarily in a temple, church, or other sacred space. Even though we have heard the phrase “God lives within” most of our lives, we still carry an underlying belief that God is in the heavens or some other dimension. Many are questioning that view today and, from their own personal experiences, find Spirit not only inside but everywhere else. Not having been raised in any particular religion, I found it relatively easy to embrace this latter view when I embarked on spiritual exploration as an adult. Now, when I pause and take a deep breath, I feel that Presence in everyone and everything I see—and such gratitude for the connection.

For instance, yesterday I took the bus and subway into Boston for an eye doctor appointment. I live outside the city so the noise, crowds, and busyness can take some getting used to (even though I worked there for many years before retiring). I had to mentally stop and breathe and then shift my inner gaze in order to center myself in the open awareness that is so much a part of me now. In doing so, as always, God was everywhere I looked.

The homeless people clustered by the library were God, as were the nearby construction workers and the college students rushing by deep in conversation. The mockingbird enthusiastically serenading in the tree I passed was God, along with the pansies on the ground below. God was the slightly inebriated man at the subway stop loudly singing: “You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman.” As was the wild-haired man in faded but colorful running shorts and tank top dancing down the center aisle of the subway car.

And God was the crossing guard riding home on the bus, talking to the driver about her wife and how much she loved her work. Both of them shared stories about job loss and unpaid bills during COVID, as well as gratitude for their lives now. I stood quietly listening near them on the crowded bus and also felt gratitude, glad that such a friendly, inclusive conversation could take place in public in the state where I live. God-ness seemed to fill the entire bus and all the diverse people on it.

Such are the moments that pass quickly through our days, and we may miss them if we don’t pay full attention. It is easy to do—to tune out what seems like noise and shut down to the living spirit all around. I often did it when I commuted to work in Boston daily. Yet now, in recent years, as I grow older and I realize more fully the precious unrepeatability of each person and each moment, I find it easier to pause and remember.

Even if you don’t believe in what has been named “God” or “Spirit,” try opening your eyes and heart wider to the vast variety of the world around you—whatever you see from that space will fill your life with wonder and profound appreciation. The spirit of life is everywhere, even the city subway, and it’s all part of the greater oneness of the universe.

Stillness and Spirit

Within stillness is Spirit: beingness without definition or form. Before it manifests into the world as we know it, the entire universe is pure silence, a formless Presence that shines with light. When we are born, we are that shining light, taking human form. It remains within us throughout our lives, but we forget that it lives there as the soul. If we embark on a spiritual quest later in life, we may become aware of that soul presence and know it as God/dess. This is the human journey.

Growing up as an only child in the Illinois countryside, I experienced silence as part of my daily life. I could often be found sitting in trees reading or playing quietly by a creek. The sounds of Nature surrounded me, but there was a deep stillness within them. As an adult, living in various cities, I sought that silence everywhere, beneath urban noise and busyness. I could always find it when I was alone, so I valued solitary time, particularly in Nature. My exploration of spirituality led me to recognize God in meditative moments of complete silence. External silence reflected inner stillness, and it was all soul awareness.

This awareness and silent connection to Spirit has become an essential part of my life. Each morning before dawn, I sit in silence and breathe it into my consciousness. With each breath during the day, I reawaken that awareness. This is my practice midst all the distractions of daily life. It holds me steady when so many parts of living on planet Earth now can throw me off balance. If I can find my way back to the inner stillness of my soul, I recenter.

After my journey through breast cancer two years ago, I began to become more aware of the cycles of form and formlessness arising within silence. The challenges of that time expanded and deepened my spiritual connection in ways I couldn’t have imagined beforehand. For example, a few months ago, as I looked out the window at the winter snow, I suddenly recognized the seasons as a reflection of life taking form within the cosmos, God becoming manifest.

Winter can be seen as formless beingness that holds all potential. Spring is the birth of life in the forms of Nature on Earth. Summer displays the full bloom of living expansiveness. Autumn colors show us the colorful light of life just before it releases itself into the formless slumber of winter once again. A wondrous cycle of living and dying and rebirth that repeats itself each year. Night and day, darkness and light, are other examples of form arising from the formless unmanifest realm of pure being every day. And sound too emerging from the silence as birdsong at dawn.

If you look around and quietly observe with your inner eyes, you can see these cycles of form and formlessness taking place everywhere. Slow down and breathe in the silence beneath everything, and you will be amazed at the miracles you experience. Spirit lives in stillness, which is the heart of who you/we are.

Life As Is

How we see life changes over time. When we are children or young adults, it stretches before us in vast waves of possibility and potential. In middle age, we become one with the waves and often forget about our own progress on the trajectory of life. Then as we begin to grow older, we may find ourselves looking more closely into the greater meaning of life and our own lives in particular. A subtle shift in language occurs: “my life” becomes “the rest of my life.” How strange that seems, both to hear and to say. That “rest” could be 30+ years or one year, no way of knowing. Of course, that is true at any time of our lives, but the longer we live, the deeper we feel that truth.

 As I look at my life, I feel both joy and sadness. Joy at the blessings that fill it, both people and experiences, and sadness at its ephemeral essence. Impermanence is the basic nature of life on Earth. Yet, full acceptance of that very impermanence is one of the greatest pieces of wisdom we can attain in our lifetime. At a certain point, we come to realize that all we are given here is rich beyond words. Language cannot fully express the wonder of living with eyes and heart wide-open on this sweet planet. The longer I live, the more profoundly I am touched by the beauty of Nature and the love of friends and family, realizing it is all fleeting and everlasting simultaneously.

Over time, I have come to surrender to life exactly as it presents itself. That is the essence of the spiritual journey I have been on for many years. Initially I was looking for a way to accept eternity, the stretch of infinity beyond my lifetime. What I found, and continue to find, is that that acceptance lies hidden in all the details of my daily life. Each tree, flower, or human soul I encounter is eternal, the entire universe held in its very beingness. When I stand in awe of that living Presence, I “hold infinity in the palm of my hand,” as William Blake wrote. Infinity, once a source of fear and suffering for me, instead becomes a source of liberation.

Humans invented time and space to try to explain the world and our lives. When we step away from that limited view, explanation is no longer necessary. We stand in eternal Presence, and within that is the meaning of life. What I have searched for most of my life is not what I thought it was. It is not an answer to a question, but rather living beyond questions and answers. This is what Ram Dass referred to as “loving awareness.” It is not something that can be explained but only experienced. And the longer you live, the deeper the experience.

Ultimately, we discover there is no end, nor any beginning. Definitions and parameters fall away, and all that is before and within me is life as is, both a miracle and a blessing. Human joy and sadness interweave within that vision. Every single experience is part of life, designed at the soul level for our expansion into awareness of the light that fills us—and everything.

Waiting…

We humans spend so much of our lives waiting: for the bus or train, in traffic, in the dentist’s office, in the checkout line, for vacation. Waiting to be 21 and then waiting for retirement. In a blink of an eye, our entire lives have passed in waiting for the next event or experience. Often we miss the moment we are living through because our minds are preoccupied with looking to the future. Yet the future doesn’t really exist; it is always running ahead of us, tempting us to forget where we are now.

The wisdom handed down from spiritual teachers like Ram Dass is to “Be here now.” Because now is all we have. The fantasy of the future and the memory of the past are mental distractions, which often keep us stuck in dissatisfaction. If we can learn to focus on each moment, appreciation and peace of mind arise and help us relax into being instead of aspiring.

I was thinking of this recently when Anne and I stayed at Kripalu Yoga Center in Lenox, Massachusetts, for a few days. Daily life there is very simple: yoga, meditation, meals, walking in Nature, resting or reading. No TV or video; cell phones restricted to use in one room only. Breakfast is silent; quiet, contemplative presence is encouraged. Coming from the external world of noise and activity, Kripalu visitors may discover that it takes consciously letting go to become aligned with a state of being that is actually quite natural to all of us.

At home, I meditate and do yoga every day as well as walk quietly in Nature, so this was not new. However, at Kripalu, I found myself facing my habits of checking emails and going online for one reason or another. Daily routines of busyness. Without them, I realized I was “waiting” for the next meal or yoga session, feeling a bit lost. Even though I have been to Kripalu and other retreat centers many times, this awareness of my own “waiting” mindset was a real teaching for me.

The energy of the external world can catch us up in its fast pace at an unconscious level. We think it is normal. Empty space and time can feel odd. And yet they are completely natural, and it is why I and so many people go to places like Kripalu. To live fully in each moment without looking behind or ahead. So, I sat with that awareness. Within it, I remembered that I could easily bring myself back to the moment, wherever I am, by focusing on some detail in my environment: a tree, a cloud, a person, a pattern of light on the wall, birdsong. Or my own breathing, which is the Presence focus in so many traditions. The breath is only ever in the now. When I step into that soul space of pure being, I stop waiting.

So, the best part of my visit to Kripalu was reawakened awareness of living fully in the present moment without waiting for the next one. It’s a practice, an ongoing reminder of how rich each second of our lives is. No need to “wait for it,” It’s all here, right now.