We’ve negotiated a treaty
The wasps and I.
Yesterday we were thrown into
a sudden and terrifying conflict
when I opened the lid of the bird feeder
and laid bare their well crafted hive.
I dropped the entire construction
in the center of my porch
and ran
as several startled hornets
circled and memorized my face.
The remainder of the day
I gave them a wide birth
outdoors.
Sentinels warned me from
their safety perimeter
by hovering in that awkward
menacing way
directly in my vision
legs and abdomen dangling.
From the window
inside
I watched as one steadfast Mama
remained to warm the larvae.
Hours later she was joined by another
and close to nightfall most,
by my estimation,
returned to cover the newly
open and vulnerable nest.
This morning, they seem to have decided
I am no longer an immediate threat.
And I feel a similar guarded respect for them.
I was able to enjoy my coffee
on the glider
less than five feet away
and observe as they cleared
the shimmering dew
from their dark wings.
They remind me of Rilke’s
Dragon Princess.
Perhaps all the swarms
we unwittingly expose
do not wish to attack
or sting
but are waiting for us
‘Beautiful and brave”
to hold our anxiety
to let them live
and nurse their creations
and leave each of us
to our vigilant peace.
I picked six blackberries under the blue dome of heaven and the curious gaze of a dragonfly. Each one tasted different.
One was sour almost beyond bearing but it made me aware that sour ripens to sweet with sunshine, space, and patience.
I held those purple gems loosely in my left palm and experienced them one by one.
This, I consumed as a honeybee frantically gathered pollen.
That, as a song sparrow alighted on the swaying brambles and unleashed joyful tidings to no one in particular.
Another as the warming breeze carried the scent of milkweed.
The last, the darkest, was swallowed as I exited the entrance newly schooled in the knowledge that there are no separate moments only one forever unfolding.
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
— Jellaludin Rumi,
translation by Coleman Barks
It astonishes me how terrified Western culture is of strong emotions. Even little children are aware of this and use it to their advantage. Note, the next time you see a child throwing a temper tantrum near the impulse buys of any major store and the panicked, pissed off, or apologetic reaction of their adult in charge.
As an educator I’ve noticed that most bullying is directed toward students who have intense feelings and are unable to hide their reactions. And, it bothers me that the general rule of thumb in advising these victims, is to blame them for their vulnerability. As if authenticity were a weakness. As if this were a lesson they should have learned and embodied when they were in preschool. Because the sad truth is that most of us have learned and embodied the lesson that we need to conceal or tamp down our feelings in preschool. Not channel them. Not hold them. But bury or swallow or mask them into something the general public can tolerate.
Fierce vulnerability is alluring. To be emotionally open and available is also to be in a permanent state of rebellion. Well, anger is acceptable. But only if you are white and male. The only place where strong emotions are tolerated in our society is in the field of sports. And then, only if you or your team wins.
Mind you, I am not only referring to the challenging emotions. Show a bit too much bliss and you open yourself to ridicule as well. Normalcy, particularly in the USA, is a state of neutrality to the point of indifference.
A dear friend with an impassioned nature was told over and over again as a child to “Tone it down!” Her immense joy was as intolerable to her family and community as her profound sadness, righteous rage, or deep empathy. Phrases like, “Suck it up, buttercup,” or “I’ll give you something to cry about,” were frequently hurled at her. She became, in her adult youth, a fathomless well of projection to all who entered her orbit, glorified and vilified in turn for her emotional truth.
It so happens that she was also a spiritual seeker. She left her Catholic upbringing and studied Eastern religion with the misguided notion that meditation would fix her intensity issues. Meditation and constant striving would provide her with the illusive off switch that would make her more palatable. Worthy. This, of course, backfired. Spectacularly. And thank goodness!
This woman, and all the strong women in my life that I so admire, are grounded in their boundless openness. They trust in their thrashing about. They are able to let the storms roll and let them pass. They do not bow to the tyranny of positive thinking. They are enlightened but also endarkened. Balanced. Brave. Holding gently. Releasing with gratitude.
I’ve learned a lot from watching cooking shows. More than simply how to cook, that is. There are so many reasons I’m drawn to them. I enjoy watching people use their hands. Most especially to create or build or fix or heal. All four of which are a part of preparing a good meal.
Great chefs understand that cooking is soul work. Sure, there are some ornery bastards. Some colossal egos. Tempers flare. I’ve never known any creative area where these issues didn’t arise. More often, what amazes me about the community of chefs is the way they collaborate. And while they may be highly critical, most also seem willing to submit their own cooking to the same scrutiny.
Cooking is hard work; busy, relentless, and consuming. You have to maintain your health, keep your energy levels high, and commit your whole self to the process.
Master chefs have a devotion to growth, learning, experimentation, and change. They fail and head right back to the pantry. It seems that each of them had a devastating setback in their lives; a fire, cancer, bankruptcy, a second fire; and yet, they persist. In fact, most chefs mark these traumatic events, that might have taken the heart of others, as a catalyst for transformation. You could say that they discovered their unique genius only after, or because of, a personal catastrophe.
Lately, an acute attention and appreciation for the local environment play a key role in fine cuisine. I deeply admire the move to incorporate not only local farms and produce, but to explore and forage, with respect and restraint, our seas, meadows, and forests. The artistry with which they incorporate these natural elements is, often times, astonishing. It also strikes me as ancient and witchy.
Cooking is an intriguing mix of science, art, skill, and attention. An alchemy of the senses. But, a crucial, though often unnamed component of cooking is time. Time and I are often at odds. Usually this is when I am ruminating on the past, or anxious about the future, or freaking out because it is passing so doggone quickly. Never is this more apparent than when I try to make an egg. I know first hand why this is the magical test of most chefs. You have to have ALLLLL your shit together to prepare a proper egg. And then it is a focused dance for the following three minutes or so. Artists create egg dishes with effortless elegance and keep a tidy kitchen, to boot. Not so in my kitchen.
The Zen Buddhist nun, Jeong Kwan, uses time expertly in preparing her temple food. Kimchi is created and harvested precisely when most nutritious and delicious. She plans and prepares healing vegan meals according to the seasons and cycles of her temple surroundings. She then presents them with exquisite artistry. We could all learn from her generous, humble offering.
In one way or another, I see great chefs as examples of mindful living. They are beholden to the gifts bestowed in their home place and as interpreted through the work of their senses, imagination, and hands. This is a calling. A calling that all of us have the opportunity to answer and practice on a daily basis. We can demonstrate our love for others and this beautiful, bountiful world by cooking healthy, tasty, well planned and attentively prepared food.
One of my favorite chefs as photographed by: John Hardwick
“I have wonderful news! … This is wonderful news you want to hear,…You are going to live a good and long life filled with great and terrible moments that you cannot even imagine yet!”
Anybody who has read, The Fault in Our Stars by John Green probably recognized this quote. IMHO, The Fault in our Stars is an exquisite book everyone should read. Hopefully, before you see the movie. Although I love movies, books are always better. You get to dive deeper. You get to live inside the characters. Reading calls out a different form of attention than watching. And, attention is my theme for today.
Although I will not ask you to “Pay Attention.” I never liked that phrase. Probably because of the word pay. I don’t like to pay for things. Not because I am cheap, at least I hope not, but because of the obligation behind it.
So instead I will ask you, as a favor, to please, give me the kindness of your attention. For truly, there is no greater act of generosity you can do than offer your full attention to someone.
As I wrote at the beginning, you are going to live a long life, with great and terrible moments…”What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” The poet Mary Oliver, another great writer, asks this question in one of her poems. And she answers her own question in another poem. She says, “Instructions for living a life: pay attention, be astonished, tell about it.”
John Green would agree with Mary Oliver’s instructions for living a life. In a different passage from The Fault in Our Stars, he writes, “I believe the universe wants to be noticed. I think the universe is improbably biased toward the consciousness, that it rewards intelligence in part because the universe enjoys its elegance being observed.” He tells us that the real heroes are the people who notice things.
The Buddhist philosophy is founded on mindfulness. The Dalai Lama describes mindfulness as kind, loving awareness or attention without judgement. It isn’t easy. Especially now when we have so many things to keep us distracted. Which is why we have to practice it. Practice mindfulness. Practice being attentive and letting go of judgement and our need to make something good or bad.
There are few absolutes in life, few things you can be certain about but I know this to be true in my heart, whatever you give your attention to will be transformed by it, will grow from it. And YOU will grow from it. If I asked you to become aware of your breathing…without asking you to change it, just by bringing your awareness to the breath, it will deepen. The same can be said of how you sit, or how you listen, or look…once you give your attention to that moment you will see that you actually need to try harder NOT to make it better. This is the heart of meditation. Mary Oliver again says, “I do not know how to pray, I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to stroll through the fields.”
So whatever you want to do with your one wild and precious life, whatever that is, it will be richer if you give it, or practicing giving it, your full attention.
St. Thomas said, “The reward for patience… is more patience.” The same is true of attention. The more you practice attention, shifting your awareness, the more you are able to practice it. And how do you do that? Set the goal or intention each day that you will give attention to some area of your life. Something small. Something near you. Maybe you will give attention to how you breathe, or what makes you laugh, or the words you say, or perhaps you will do your best to look at the sky and feel the sun on your face.
Because life is full of both great and terrible moments, there will be many times in your life practicing attention will demand courage. But, I still believe, with all the love in my heart, that the mind is powerful and the focal point of our thoughts can be transformed. In the same way energy from the sun transforms life, or the pull of the moon affects the tides, consciousness radiates.
You will find the more you practice attention, the more you appreciate what is given you, now, in this moment. All that you need is here. Truly, what better time to observe the universe’s elegance than right now?
The Gospel of St Thomas tells us Jesus said that the kingdom of heaven is spread on the Earth but men do not see it. Be the hero or heroine of your own life. See the kingdom of heaven spread before you. Notice the beauty and elegance of the universe in the moments you are given, offer your attention to your, “One wild and precious life.”
Let me be clear, I wanted, still want, most of my spiritual teachers to be women. Preferably women who lived lives of struggle and significance and came out the other side with something to tell about. And indeed many of the finest writings, the most significant stories, that get to deepest places of my soul are by these powerful women. I’ve long resented the lesser role women have in religious life and the fact that there are so few who enjoy the spiritual gravitas bestowed on men. Lots of men. So, it was with great reluctance that Stephan Pende Wormland, a white guy, a German no less, Tibetan Buddhist former monk, found his way into my heart.
I am not a Tibetan Buddhist. Despite this statement, The Dali Lama has provided me with the closest definition of my abiding philosophy, “Loving kindness is my religion.” It is that simple and that difficult.
But back to Mr. Wormland and why and how he became a force in my life even though I never met him and was conflicted about his maleness, his German heritage, and his patriarchal religious affiliation. I learned of him through the Insight Meditation Timer App which I highly recommend. I liked his guided meditation so much that I decided to look him up online. Turns out, he offers his teachings and guided meditations for free all over the web. You can listen and download them on SoundCloud. Or, why not sit in on retreat on YouTube? Mindful Dreaming makes a great jumping off spot.
Life is full of surprises. These disruptions can be our greatest instructors. Many experiences, many people, many moments, will go into the distillation of my true self. And so I have learned, it is good to examine my biases and open up.
Full disclosure, I am not disciplined enough to watch or listen to everything Stephan Pende Wormland offers. But, I return to his guided meditations regularly. There is something about his pacing, his voice, and his use of imagery and metaphor that resonates. Like most Tibetan Buddhists I’ve met, he has a great sense of humor too. The clarity of the audio makes you feel as if you are in his retreat loft in Copenhagen. Actually, I don’t know if he has a loft but I imagine the space to be large and open and several floors up from the street. So that, in the silent spaces between words you hear the canals, the footfalls, and church bells in the distance.
This may sound weird but all my life I have regularly given myself assignments. OK. Maybe not so weird for someone who ended up becoming a teacher but when I say assignments, I am not talking about the traditional kind. I’ve assigned myself tasks like, get to know every tree in my neighborhood. What are their names? What have they witnessed? Who lives in them? What about them is edible? This has been an ongoing assignment from the age of seven actually.
Vivian and Ray Kell center. Sandwiched by Mary and Jerry Black
Another mission I gave myself was to make friends with an elder in my community. I chose Ray Kell and by proxy his wife Vivian. Ray is 91 years old now. Vivian is 90. I have called them my friends since they were in their early 70’s. Ray and Vivian have ten children, 33 grandchildren, 17 great grandchildren and counting. Ray is a veteran of World War 2. He and Vivian are activists for peace, justice, and equality. He plays the piano and sings at least an hour every day. Preferably more. Sometimes you have to beg him to stop. He still plays 18 holes of golf and carries his own clubs. When he was 84, Ray raced me up five flights of stairs and beat me. The Kell’s vegetable garden is spectacular and feeds many in their neighborhood. They work every Monday from 6:00AM until 1:00PM in the Manna Meal Soup kitchen. Every year for the past 20, he and Vivian pack up their car and travel the country for six weeks visiting all their kids and grand kids while camping. In a tent! On Ray’s 90th birthday he challenged himself to do a freestanding headstand and hold it. He achieved his goal in the middle of his daughter’s backyard while his grandson played a three minute waltz on the violin. I guess you could say Ray also gives himself assignments. He certainly lives a life of meaning, purpose, and intention and I aspire to be more like him.
Which might be why I regularly assign myself reading. Two Summers ago, I read How to Be an Explorer of the World by Keri Smith. And guess what?! The book is filled with interesting assignments, only she calls them explorations. I highly recommend it. The author challenges you to collect tiny things and make a mini museum in an Altoids tin. She suggests making sculptures out of ten things you find in a drawer. There are 59 different explorations. Most of them involve field work. Keri Smith offers 5 field work tips. I would like to add a sixth one based on personal experience and follow it up with ten explorations, not in the book, that I found made my life, and occasionally the lives of those around me, better.
Keri Smith’s Field Work Tips:
Never leave home without a notebook and pen.
When practicing deep looking or deep listening, it is best to work alone.
Respect the community in which you explore. This applies to all aspects of nature, human or otherwise and also includes property, public or private
If you find yourself being questioned as to the reasons for your activities, the phrase, “I’m conducting research” usually satisfies the nosiest interloper.
Expect the unexpected and you will find it.
My 6th Tip: You can never have too many pockets when exploring. Be sure to bring scissors, zip lock bags, looking glasses, a camera, a snack and water bottle, some tissue, and plan to stay out a long time.
10 of my own Recommended Explorations Not Listed in the Book:
1. Never pass up an opportunity to dip, dive, slide, swing, glide, skip, twirl, rock, or dunk.
2. Look for the color purple everywhere you go. Read The Color Purple by Alice Walker. Pay Attention to what Shug says. “Shug a beautiful something.”
3. For an entire day, if anyone asks you a question, sing the answer. Make note of the questioner’s reaction.
4. Discover your favorite apple. They don’t all taste the same. Mine is a Fuji. Try one with some extra sharp Pinconning cheese. Seriously. Try that.
5. Listen only to the voice of love inside your head for a whole morning, or a whole day. Keep practicing until you can do it for longer and longer times. If the mean voice starts talking, sing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” to yourself until it goes away.
6. Every once in awhile, make yourself an omelet.
7. Find an interesting elder in your community. Get to know them. Ask them questions. Listen to their stories.
8. Make your worst enemy a kindness salad…or a batch of yummy cookies. Again, make note of their reaction.
9. Dance in the grocery store.
10. For one moment each day, stand still where you are. Breathe into your belly. Be mindful that every day, every single day, even the heart crushing ones, we are surrounded by the mighty love of God.
Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God. ~Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
In the end, just three things matter: How well we lived How well we loved How well we learned to let go ~Jack Kornfield
Most of what truly matters in life surpasses both my understanding and ability to put into words. Nevertheless, I will try.
Let me start simply by clarifying that when I write of matters I mean the verb; to be of importance or significance. I am also going to try to step away from politics, although they certainly are of significance. And, I acknowledge it is the circumstances of my privileged birth that even allows me to look at other things that matter. This would be a very different post if I were born poor and black and living in say, Flint, Michigan.
So, of course, there are crucial matters for our body’s survival: clear air, clean water, pure lands to grow nourishing food and provide warmth and shelter.
There are matters vital for the mind to endure. Sure, there are! Everyone needs a sense of safety, a feeling of belonging, the ability to perceive and learn, a moral code, an absence of pain, love.
Human rights, the rights of the planet and all its incredible, diverse, interconnected beings matter. Beyond reckoning.
But once our basic needs are met, what matters then?
I confess, I have never been a traditional matterer. By that I mean, appearances aren’t a big deal with me. My own or anyone else’s. I care there be evidence of grooming effort. Beyond that, express yourself, or not, by your own funky fresh style. It matters, not.
Money never really mattered all that much either. Although I am wise enough to know that this is because I have always had enough, even in the skimpy days. And that is a blessing.
It doesn’t matter if your house is clean or messy but how you walk the Earth. The impact you leave. Not measured by others. But by that still, small voice inside.
Quieting every other noise and listening for that voice, that awareness, that has always been with you throughout your many selves and all the things that mattered to them, that is what matters. That voice will gently coax away your vanity. That silent witness will point you toward grace and simplicity and balance. That true self will endlessly instruct you in gratitude for what is given. That soundless messenger knows your particular and perhaps “peculiar travel instructions.” Breathe. Practice. Listen with all your senses. Whenever you can. This, I believe, is what matters.
Your life will turn out nothing like you planned. Yet it will be grander than you ever imagined. You will love well and be loved better.
It is true that everything your heart desires lies on the other side of fear. Inside that fear is lost power you will reclaim when you face it, beautiful and brave. Make it so.
Don’t give a tiny rat’s behind what anyone else thinks or says about you. It is wasted time and energy on something you cannot control.
I forgive you for everything. Even the stuff you never told anyone but the dark.
Trust your guts! Nurture your instincts. They will save you from some very sketchy situations..
Study Kung Fu instead of learning to smoke. This is a no brainer.
Listen.
The greatest love of your life will come as a total surprise. She will be your best friend and greatest teacher. Yes, that is right, she, not he. You are queer. But then, if you listened to your guts, you knew that.
I know you worry about putting your parents through a spiritual crisis by coming out. Come out anyway. They survive. Loving you for your entire self, activates them to become warriors for peace, justice, and diversity. The pain from which you all emerge transforms into meaningful work, lasting friendships, and the spreading of light to countless other families.
The most profound moments of your life will unfold in solitude.
You are worthy. Don’t overcompensate. Your faults and frailties are no worse than anyone else’s. Do your best to replace the words “I’m sorry…” with “Thank you for…” wherever and whenever you can remember.
Keep writing. Burn what doesn’t work. Burn what does. It is the process that matters.
Travel.
Whatever worries or expectations you have, let them go. You will live the most ridiculously lucky, rich life full of love and laughter and pleasures and meaningful work and stories and poems and music and good souls. While I am age 51 writing this to you, which probably seems ancient to you, I hope I am only at the midpoint of this existence. But, even if today is our last, we can drop this body, release this awareness, and know we were blessed.
Labyrinth Blackberries
Lucky Pilgrim 