Tag: oneness

Breath

The breath doesn’t disappear when you stop breathing at the end of your life. It is the source of your breathing, and it continues, just as your spirit continues. Indeed, breath and spirit are one and the same (identical word in some languages). This is a wisdom we come to as we pass from this world to the next. The Spirit that brought you life as you know it here on Earth, through your breath, is never-ending.

If you are fortunate, you may come to this awareness within your lifetime. Sudden jolts to your habitual way of perceiving the world can awaken this cognitive/emotional expansion. Crises or change, as well as deep spiritual practices, frequently have a transformative effect on your view of yourself and all of life. What seemed solid and unchanging suddenly becomes fluid and ever-shifting. You begin to realize that the “unknown,” that which we haven’t yet solidified into facts, is perhaps your greatest source of expansive wisdom.

Birth and death bookend our physical lives, but eventually we see them as illusions that we invented to explain what appears to be a beginning and ending. In truth, we are part of an infinite continuity of being, the eternal Spirit that fills the universe and our physical forms with awareness. A profound soul awareness that expands with each breath we take, each experience we live. The entire universe is within you, as you are within it. Sounds contradictory but only when your mind organizes the world into inner/outer, beginning/ending. From the soul’s view, everything is one, without polarity or edges.

Some religious traditions see eternity as a heavenly after-life in which we are reunited with our loved ones who have already passed into a world similar to the one we live in here—but where peace prevails. We often picture gods and goddesses who inhabit that world, there to comfort and guide us. Yet perhaps it is we who are the gods and goddesses living on Earth in human form and there is no after-life, only the eternal Now. Divinity is everywhere.

The human mind longs to find truth, to define life and death, so that we can keep fear at bay. Fear, however, is a product of the mind and of the need to know. Peace arises from the heart and soul, from a profound acceptance and understanding that is beyond questions, answers, and definitions. I find that when I become lost in fear of the unknown and the vastness of infinity, it is because my mind is frantically spinning its wheels. If I breathe deeply and allow a deeper awareness beyond the mental to arise within me, I settle into the “peace that passes understanding.” This is the eternal breath. The journey of my lifetime, of all of our lifetimes, is to recognize that peaceful presence as Home and one another as soul family. In doing so, we experience eternity with every sweet breath in each present moment.

Speak Kindness into the World

Finding time for silence in your life is important; it soothes, calms, and centers you in your soul’s presence. When you do speak, your voice then expresses the loving heart of who you are, connected to that inner stillness. Your voice can also be an instrument of peace and kindness in the world, healing separation and judgment. We are currently living at a time in which antipathy is on the rise toward those viewed as outside of a very narrow frame of acceptability (one race, one religion, one gender). Our immigrant and transgender neighbors now fear for their lives. We in the larger LGBTQ+ community are also fearful. Along with many others, including people of color, non-Christians, and all women. Who’s next?

There is a famous quote by Martin Niemoller during World War II, when Nazism was sweeping through Europe. He begins: “First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist.” He continues, each line adding another group that “they came for” (trade unionists, Jews), and he still does not speak out. The last line stands as a powerful statement, then and now: “Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.” In other words, do not sit silently while your neighbors are verbally or physically attacked. Speak up. Stand with them. It’s happening to all of us.

Speaking up doesn’t have to be a fight or an argument (try to avoid antagonism, if possible). It can be as simple as admiring people for who they are, appreciating “difference” instead of disliking it, answering negative comments with positive ones. It’s a delicate balance, because some people hold tightly to their opinions and don’t want to be contradicted or challenged. To speak with kindness and compassion for all people is what we are being called to do in the world now. We are all different really. We are also all the same at the core of our being. To live with that seeming contradiction, in a space of inclusiveness, is the challenge of the years ahead, the shift from a warring planet to a peaceful one.

It begins in your house, your neighborhood, your state, your country, your planet. In essence, everywhere. With each voice of kindness speaking quietly, soul to soul, the world opens its collective heart a little more. It may seem an impossible task, but all journeys are step-by-step endeavors. Many of us have been traveling this road for decades. I lived through the years of “America: Love It or Leave It.” I also lived through the years of civil rights, women’s rights, Earth Day, Black Lives Matter, and rainbow flags on the White House and national monuments. As human beings on an evolving planet, we are all of these things. Individuals who act with hate or unkindness are often fearful inside; they don’t want to “lose” what they see as their only security in the world. They hang onto their belief systems like a life preserver. And fear can form a wall between people. Actually, we all carry fear of one kind or another in us these days.

So how to find a way for all of us to live together in mutual respect and open-heartedness? Without fear. Without anyone thinking they are better than anyone else. No easy answers to that. The walls can feel like they are closing in, angry and hateful voices speaking louder and louder. Doing nothing is not an option. My/your voice is key—not to engage in aggravated (and aggravating) argument, but to find a way through disagreement to mutuality in spite of difference. We are alive at this time for exactly this reason, as difficult or frightening as it may seem. There are many paths to oneness and community, but they all begin with kindness. The peaceful silence within you will give you the courage to speak that kindness into the world.

The Big Picture

The universe felt overwhelming to me when I was a little girl. One late-night thought of the vast unfathomable cosmos, and my five-year-old brain would freeze in terror. I learned to distract myself as I grew older, but the background fear never disappeared entirely. In college, a class in astronomy activated it again. It was only in later years, as I began to pursue a spiritual quest that some sense of meaning and safety in the universe came to me.

Over the years I have grown in my acceptance of what Native Americans have called “the Great Mystery.” It is multi-faceted and not a puzzle to solve but a vision of oneness that humans eventually learn to surrender to—either in life or in death. In life, we often get lost in the details and a need to control them. But if we can let go and accept everything in the span of our lifetime, inner peace arises within and remains with us always, even, or especially, at death. Some people call this peace God, or infinite consciousness. Language does not capture it, but the heart knows it. In moments of heart-centered connection to the people and the world around us, we are one with a presence beyond words.

When I am in that oneness, I see the perfection in all things, in my own life and in all life. There are no mistakes. In every detail of life is a light visible throughout the cosmos. When we accept our lives as perfectly unfolding, that light shines everywhere, and we relax into what has been called peace beyond understanding. For we cannot really “understand” life and death; we can only surrender to it and thus experience what is outside of the realm of understanding: Presence.

In that space, I have had the most profound sense of being part of a complex tapestry of beingness, every thread interwoven with every other thread, always connected and evolving within Presence itself. Each soul on an infinite journey to know itself. God experiencing God. My soul and divine intelligence chose the design of my life so that I could experience all the details of a human existence and eventually come to know everything as Heaven on Earth. Ultimately, there are no divisions in the universe. Humans experience division in order to return to oneness and know it as who they are. To know the universe as oneself. This is the Big Picture.

It has taken me many years to reach this perspective. Yet within it, I realize that there really are no “years,” or time as humans have defined it. The greatest sages have spoken of the eternal Now. This sweet moment of timeless time is what we have been given. When I surrender to that wisdom, the peace of my limitless soul informs all my life, and every “picture” before me, big or small, becomes one with an ever-changing cosmic kaleidoscope of light and divine connection. And as the full moon rises perfectly over the dark trees outside my window, my fear is replaced with gratitude.

Joy, Grief, and Miracles

My entire life I have carried within me, in equal parts, exquisite joy at being alive and profound grief at one day having to leave this world for the vast unknown of eternity. That unknown, and the sorrow surrounding it, frightened me terribly as a small child. At night, I would cry about this seemingly insoluble dilemma of life and death and the infinite universe. As I explored a spiritual path in my adult life, I came to see that this life/death dichotomy arose as part of being embodied spirit in physical human form. My soul saw no polarized separation; only my mind did.

There have always been times in my daily life when I saw the world as my soul did: expansive, wondrous, flowing, filled with miracles. When I am walking quietly in Nature, surrounded by birds and trees and flowers. When I am with friends and family, feeling the love that connects us. The trajectory of my life has been to balance out the joy and grief, to come to peace with all the varied and sometimes contradictory experiences of living as a human being on Earth. Perhaps this is what we are all doing in our own way.

Immersed in presence in the natural world, I feel that balance. Trees, birds, clouds, flowers, seasons. I am outside of time, beyond the mind’s observations. I connect to all parts of life with each breath. Breathing like a tree, like a flower, like a bird. Therein is calm, a surrender to something greater that is comforting not frightening. Here, infinity is who I am. It flows within me and surrounds me as well. In Nature, I recognize that life holds infinity in everything. Somehow grief falls away in those moments, and I only know the peace that is at the center of my soul.

The key perhaps is to see the entire world as one with Nature, to recognize that Mother Earth and Spirit are a single seamless creation with no beginning and no end. And within that eternal, never-ending Presence is something beyond the mind’s ability to understand. Only in completely letting go of the need to solve the puzzle of existence and accepting the wonders before us each day do we experience peace. And a balance that brings together joy and grief in the human heart and makes them whole.

This is where I am now, sitting silently on the edge of eternity and knowing it as who I am, who we all are. William Blake could hold “eternity in an hour,” infinity in the palm of his hand. He saw a “World in a Grain of Sand, and a Heaven in a Wild Flower.” To me, this is the greatest and most exquisitely beautiful wisdom I’ve ever encountered. Within it is the amazing grace we all hope to find in our lifetimes, no further away than our own miraculous hands or the flowers at our feet.

Remember

I have just finished rereading the ending of Ann Patchett’s new novel Tom Lake. I am crying—at the poignancy, at the beauty, at the soul wisdom. Last night I watched a 1988 PBS production of the play Our Town, which figures so prominently in Tom Lake, though always in the background (Tom Lake is a summer theater). I wept at that too. There are such deep life lessons in both of them, ones that few remember in their lifetimes. The characters Lara and Emily open to these lessons over the course of events in the novel and play. As does George in the film It’s a Wonderful Life. As are so many of us now at this time on Earth. We are awakening to how extraordinary human life really is.

Don’t miss a second of your life on this remarkable planet. The sadness and suffering as well as the joy and celebration. It’s all such a tremendous unrepeatable experience, like no other in the universe. Each morning, when you wake up, remember. The poet Rumi said it: “The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don’t go back to sleep,” This is the greatest wisdom of each of our lifetimes, throughout time, and especially now. Don’t go back to sleep. See the living spark of divine light in your partner’s or child’s eyes. Love your friends and family with all your heart. Appreciate them. Love yourself. You are a miracle.

Look around at the beauty of Mother Earth, the birds and trees and flowers. Everywhere there is beauty, even in the smallest detail of the most insignificant blade of grass. Even in a cemetery. A cemetery is a central figure in both Tom Lake and Our Town (and It’s a Wonderful Life). It stands as a coming together point of all life and eventually all the wisdom that arises from living. Spirit lives there. Spirit, which continues throughout time and space.

There is a cemetery that is a central figure in my life as well: Mt. Auburn. It is also a nature sanctuary, and for more than 40 years, I have walked there in the sweet silence and sounds of the natural world. I greet the birds each spring as they migrate and sing their lilting songs. Anne and I were married at Mt. Auburn, under the trees by Auburn Lake, the most beautiful day of our lives. I heard about the death of a friend there, tears streaming down my face as a bright red cardinal appeared on the path before me. I felt my mother’s spirit there after her passing, a cardinal singing nearby then too. And I have sensed my dad’s energy in the trees and the crows calling overhead. One cold November night many years ago, Anne and I watched meteor showers streaking across the cosmos in the deep darkness of Mt. Auburn at 3 a.m. Some of my most powerful moments of connection to something greater in the universe (Spirit, the Great Mystery, God) occurred there. All of life and death coming together as One in my awareness.

In Tom Lake, a cemetery on a rural wooded hillside brings everyone together in love and continuity. I feel that at Mt. Auburn. That is why I return, year after year. It helps me remember. We are all finding our own ways to remember now, we latter-day poets and saints of the 21st century. We came to Earth at this time to become fully awake and aware, to connect with one another, and to see the miracles in everything. In life/death, in pure being. Don’t go back to sleep. Remember. It is the gift of a lifetime, of all lifetimes.