Tag: peace

Life as Drama…and Serenity

There are times when life feels like those famous drama masks that denote comedy and tragedy in theatrical productions. One mask is smiling, the other crying. On any given day, I can experience both laughter and tears, joy and sorrow. Sometimes both simultaneously. Each year brings new ways that life unfolds in all its dramatic diversity. Yet, underneath it all runs a balancing stream of serenity.

When I was growing up in the Midwest, I remember wondering, a bit fearfully, about the meaning of life as I looked up at the vast star-filled night sky. I wanted to be 9 years old forever, safely reading books in the branches of my favorite climbing tree. But I also wanted to travel the world. My life unfolded in ways that included both those ways of being, as well as extended spiritual exploration.

I continued to be an avid reader (and later a writer and editor) as well as a lover of Nature. I traveled extensively, swimming with wild dolphins in Costa Rica, whales in Hawaii; hiking Machu Picchu in Peru, the Alps in Switzerland. Vision quests in Montana and spiritual ceremonies with Maya elders at sacred sites in Guatemala. Over time, I came to realize that every bit of it was part of my soul’s journey for this lifetime, finding equilibrium among inner and outer experiences.

Growing older has brought unexpected challenges (e.g., breast cancer survivor), but ultimately these have taught me patience, acceptance, and resilience, day by day. Sadness about the passing of family members and friends, as well as apprehension about my own eventual death, are also part of aging. Still, simultaneously, my life is filled with so much joy and love: good friends, old and new, and my dear partner, Anne, with whom I’ve shared 43 years (!) of wonderful life adventures. Each morning we open the door to sunlight over the treetops and birds singing (robins, cardinals, song sparrows, goldfinches). Who could not feel grateful for blessings such as these?

I’ve learned that whether you are crying or laughing, 9 or 90, there is always some beauty to be found in the world (in spite of political conflict or personal pain)—in Nature and in the loving kindness of friends and strangers alike. At any time, I can set aside the tearful mask and pick up the smiling one; let go of worry and embrace trust. Each moment holds all of life. Sometimes we need to cry and release sorrow. But we also need to laugh and find the sweetness of life. And make our way to the inclusive space of neutrality and peace that lives within.

The soul is timeless, not attached to the human framework of hours/minutes; it is beyond circumstance and action/reaction. In our souls we are pure Presence, and we know we are infinite. The temporary form we inhabit while on Earth has experiences while the eternal soul observes everything. Eventually, it all blends together as One. Any separation is an illusion that we realize as we transition, or if we are fortunate, at moments of awakened awareness while we are still in physical form.

With each second that passes, with each precious breath we take, we can open our heart of hearts to a soul vision that will guide our lives to the serenity within the drama. We are here in our human lives to do just that. It is what is meant by Peace on Earth.

Growing Up Walden

One of my father’s favorite books was Walden by Henry David Thoreau. He loved Thoreau’s immersion in the natural world and his emphasis on a simple life. Recently, when I was watching a PBS documentary on Thoreau and his time living alone in the woods at Walden Pond, I remembered my childhood in Illinois and how my dad had created his own version of Walden on the five acres where my parents built a house nine years before I was born. The land had a number of old oak trees and a couple of streams running through it but was otherwise mainly open fields. By the time I was a young child playing there, my dad and mom had planted shade trees, evergreens, bushes, vegetable and flower gardens, a fruit orchard, and berry patches. The vibrant beauty of Nature surrounded me every day. Without realizing it, I was growing up immersed in Walden consciousness.

“Simplify, simplify, simplify,” my dad would often quote Thoreau. No wonder I inherited an aversion to complications and clutter—and a love of Nature’s beautiful simplicity. When I read Walden in college, it all came together for me. Thoreau’s writing, as well as that of other Transcendentalists like Emerson, aligned with my heart and soul. Thoreau’s small wooden cabin in the forest by Walden Pond seemed to call to me. A number of years later, I moved to Massachusetts, and Walden became a special sanctuary for me where I often walked the trails and gazed at the trees, water, and sky. In any season, it radiated peace and tranquility. It was as if Thoreau’s solitary spirit watched over and protected it.

When my parents flew from Chicago to Boston to visit me, two dear friends drove us out to Walden so that my dad could see it in person. It was a special moment for all of us because we knew how greatly he admired Thoreau and his philosophy. My father continued to plant mini-Waldens in other Illinois locations where my parents lived in later years. And I too have created “Waldens” in the various backyards (or porches) of houses where I have had an apartment.

Currently, my partner Anne and I live in a condo which faces a woods thick with deciduous trees and evergreens. Bird song fills the air when I open our deck doors at sunrise, and we hear spring peepers or summer crickets trilling after dark. Walden once again synchronistically surrounds me, the perfect circle of a lifetime. Early in my life, I learned that the wonders of the Earth are ever-present; every day I see them wherever I live. I am deeply grateful to Thoreau, my dad, and all those magical years of “growing up Walden.”
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Artwork above: “Thoreau’s View,” by Anne Katzeff

Deep Dive or Distraction?

More and more these days, I find myself seeking empty space, deeper stillness within me and outside me. There are so many distractions in our lives now: news updates, emails, texts, apps, ads, online videos and articles, mental lists, busy streets, crowded stores. It can be a real challenge to find a place of silence and solitude where the mind and heart can be at rest. A sanctuary for the spirit.

Perhaps the key is to carry that sanctuary within. I don’t have to “seek” if it’s always inside me. And the more awareness I have of my own inner stillness, the more I experience it everywhere. Every sound can be a meditation bell calling me to quiet Presence. Every breath a softening into silence.

So my spiritual “practice” now involves asking the inner questions: “Does this take me deeper?” “Does it touch my heart and soul?” If not, it’s probably a distraction that it’s best to acknowledge and then let go of. Perhaps a hundred times a day. But with every letting go, I release with greater ease and go deeper. Deeper into nothing…

What is there to say about nothingness, within which eternity lies? We were there before we were born, and we’ll be there again after death. Actually we are there now too, but we are not fully aware of it. On a spiritual path, we gradually open our consciousness to the fullness of nothing, the depth and sacredness of it. As we grow older, we may realize there really is no separation, and in doing so feel a desire to consciously experience it completely within our lifetime: Emptiness and fullness as One. Oneness as all.

The poet William Blake expressed this seeming dichotomy perfectly: “To see the world in a grain of sand/And a heaven in a wild flower/To hold infinity in the palm of your hand/And eternity in an hour.” Maybe the poets and sages are the wayshowers here. In addition to the small children and wise elders who see oneness without a word spoken.

 All this is within each of us, in this present moment. Empty your hands and your mind, and stand alone with nothing but silent spirit surrounding you and within you. On the other side of distraction is the deepest experience possible of All That Is. This is heaven on Earth; this is everything, everywhere; before, during, and after life. Nothing in all its fullness.

Forever and Ever…

When I was five or six years old, I began having a recurring nighttime thought that terrified me. I described it to my mother as “The world goes on forever and ever.” My mind froze with fear when that perception arose in my consciousness, and I sat bolt upright in bed shaking my head frantically to get rid of it. My mother tried to help by suggesting I distract myself with happier thoughts. Her loving presence comforted me but did not erase the underlying feeling of terror and overwhelm. Years later I called it fear of infinity or eternity.

It felt like I was looking into the farthest stretches of the universe, an infinite void with no beginning and no end. As a child, I had no language or framework for that. It was so huge, so vast, I felt lost, engulfed. As a young adult, I ran from it, attempting to avoid its appearance in my night thoughts. Eventually I embarked on a journey of spiritual seeking, trying to come to some understanding of the nature of life/death, and resolution of my own existential despair—the grief beneath the fear of “forever and ever.”

Over the years, various teachers, in particular Panache Desai, helped me see infinity in a more positive light—indeed as light, as spirit. I was looking into the darkness, but within the darkness was the light of eternal Spirit, which cannot really be understood but only experienced. A five-year-old child staring at that limitless space does not recognize it as God or Spirit but rather as the unknown; emptiness. Something to be feared. Only recently have I begun to see my child’s vision as a soul gift, which set me on a life path of searching for the meaning of life and learning about Spirit’s presence.

I have tremendous gratitude for that gift, for the awareness it has brought me through so many spiritually expansive experiences. Yet there still remains a kernel of sadness within me as well. A recognition that life’s mysteries can never be solved. Many Native American cultures teach that only in complete acceptance of the “Great Mystery” as such is there peace. I’m finally reaching that view now, and I realize it is all part of my soul’s plan for my life.

For years, I thought that I could “solve” the mystery, and my nighttime fear of infinity would disappear entirely through “understanding” God. This was partially true: deeper soul awareness and trust in the wisdom of Spirit softened the edges and frequency of the fear. Ultimately, however, I am learning that only in full acceptance of life as is, as profound divine mystery, does total inner peace arise. I still have passing moments of sadness or grief about the nature of human life and death and “forever and ever.” At those times, the only “answer” is acceptance, surrender, complete letting go. If I take a deep breath and look up, seeing the infinite blue sky with my soul’s eyes, I feel peace. And perhaps that’s the greatest wisdom of all. 

Patience, Peace, Kindness

These words have become my “mantra” lately. A summation of what I wish to focus on as I live my life moment to moment, day by day, year to year. The three work in tandem, each informing and amplifying the others until together they become an unbroken and unbreakable whole. When I am at peace, I usually feel patient; when I am both peaceful and patient, I am more inclined to be kind. We sometimes forget that these qualities are within us all.

Patience: Major life events, such as waiting for results of a medical test or for news about a possible job offer, require patience. I also find that I need to engage with patience daily on a smaller scale. When I’m cleaning up spilled food or a glass dropped on the kitchen floor, I have to pause and remember that this accident is very small in an overview of the day’s events. When someone says something that triggers irritation in me, I take a deep breath and step off the inner thought train leading to needless anger. There are countless times throughout the day when patience is the wisest response, with the happiest outcome. May I remember that.

Peace: If there is noise outside my windows or upsetting news on the TV, I try to remember that peace is an internal experience, not dependent on external circumstances. This is a big one because the peace that we carry within us radiates outward to circle the globe. It begins with each of us. Resentment, irritation, and anger feed on themselves to become friction and fighting between friends and eventually countries. If we truly want world peace, we have to get in touch with the core of peace in our souls and live it fully with each breath we take and with each person, friend or stranger, we encounter in our lives.

Kindness: If I were asked to name one quality that could make our planet a more harmonious place, I would say “kindness.” Kindness engages the heart, and the heart is sourced in pure love. If we are continuously kind, we gift those around us with love, which touches their hearts as well as our own. Together, we move forward in life as one, not separated into opposing “sides.” A kind word or gesture can make someone’s day; a smile can lift the spirits, given and received. It’s easier than you think to shift the energy all around you to a positive vibration.

Of course, the key is to remember. That’s why I have made these three words into an inner “mantra” that I repeat inside my mind and heart as much as possible. With every repetition, they become more deeply a part of my daily life. It’s only my own forgetfulness that excludes them.  If you and I realize that patience, peace, and kindness are exactly what we would like to receive ourselves on a regular basis, then that could be a springboard to remembering. And in remembering, gratitude too fills the heart, encompassing all three.