"All his life has he looked away... to the future, to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was... What he was doing." - Yoda, Empire Strikes Back
"How shall we picture the kingdom of God, or by what parable shall we present it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the soil, though it is smaller than all the seeds that are upon the soil, yet
when it is sown, it grows up and becomes larger than all the garden
plants and forms large branches; so that the birds of the air can nest under its shade." - Jesus, Mark's Gospel
There's something to be said for taking a break from riding my motorcycle to work and driving my car instead. Today that something was (were) the thoughts that came as I listened to the words of my dharma teacher, Thich Nhat Hanh. When he likened mindfulness to the seed in Jesus' parable, something clicked in my brain. A seed is planted; it is watered; it is nourished by the sun and the soil and the water given to it. As it is nourished, it grows. If it is not nourished, it does not grow. 'Have I watered the seeds and saplings of mindfulness in me?' I wondered. 'Have I tended to the soil so that it is safe for them to grow?' And then Nhat Hanh (Thay) said "Samatha." The Sanskrit word for "stopping." Bringing everything to a halt so that the mud can settle and we can see clearly. So that we can simply be. Aware. Still. Stopped. So many things in my life charge forward all of the time. I am constantly giving my attention to how I can set up the next few days, next week, next few weeks, next year, next few years, etc., of my life so that when I get to them everything is arranged for my greater happiness. I work hard to try to arrange the future so that I do not run into any unforeseen obstacles and so that I do not forget to plant a seed or make a plan that I "need" to make for my future to turn out how I want it to. The problem is that I spend so much time clearing the grass ahead of me that when I get there, all I can think to do is to make sure the path ahead of me is still cleared. "All his life he looked away... to the future... to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was... what he was doing."
For years now in CoDA (12 step for codependency), I have recited the mantra "I am enough." And I think I know now, at least on some levels more than I once did, that I am enough - that the person I am, the way I have been shaped and molded by life, that the gifts I bring to encounters with others - that I am enough. What I struggle to know is that my life is enough. See, they're different. Who I am is who I am. But my life is composed of what I am doing, the money I am making, the thing I am driving or riding, the friendship circles I have, the recreational activities I pursue, etc. My life is about the faith community(ies) I have or don't have, the future I see unfolding before me, the present I try too hard to avoid. My life is about what this me that is enough is doing. And that is what I struggle to call "enough."
And I struggle to stop, which I find to be integrally connected to saying that my life is enough. Because in order to stop - to truly stop - one has to let things be enough, as they are. Even meditation or prayer becomes a kind of striving, a kind of judgment that I will only be okay when I get there, in the future. But here is all that I have. I am soundly in the middle of my two year program of spiritual direction training. I am learning how to sit with individuals in one-on-one settings and let them unpack their spiritual journeys, accompanying them in the present and into the future as we discern the movements of spirit, grace, or whatever you might call it, in their lives. This is a beautiful vocational and spiritual endeavor. Yet somehow it is so easily not enough. Already I think "what can I do beyond this?" I think about ordination, about chaplaincy, about becoming a therapist, about getting my PhD, and I wonder, why is what I'm doing right now not enough? There is more than enough where I am on which to focus - I have books to buy, to read, reflections to write, spiritual directees to find and to begin working with, supervision to schedule. There is so much about where I am.... what I am doing that can be the object of attention, but still I am ten steps ahead, trying to clear the way into the future - trying to make sure everything is arranged just so.
[Bell]
What if where I am and what I'm doing is enough? What if I don't need to invest all my energy looking away... to the future... to the horizon? Finishing another book or applying for another degree will not make my life enough. And certainly the constant nagging need for "more" constitutes a type of spiritual and emotional materialism that doesn't know how to settle comfortably in its own skin. So I realize how much of this is fear driven. Which brings me back to the beginning - to that seed that is planted in the garden, that seed that just needs a little bit of time and attention. To grow. To expand. It is a challenge to stop to attend to this delicate seed of "enoughness." There are so many things I can fill each evening with - so many activities to run off to - so many groups to spend my time with - so many people to see and relationships to cultivate - so much writing and journaling to do - so much to plan plan plan plan.....
What does it look like to let this moment be enough? Because one day I will die. And there will be no future to plan for or arrange, and if I've spent all of my time and energy in the future, all that will be left is a past to look back on. A past that I missed because I wasn't there for it - always thinking that it had to be better... or more.
Maybe I'll end with this poem I wrote just a couple of months ago, and say, as it does, that everything (including my life) is enough.
There is no step
but the first
and every step is
the first
We walk together
because we know no other way
(but to walk together
we must learn to stand alone)
Until one day your voice -
or your body -
cracks, falls to the earth like so much passing away -
breathes again before lying still
The bruises we feel are also the blessings
the quiet voices that got us here
waiting for answers
until waiting becomes
the answer
Your silence was always enough
patiently, patiently
until I could share this stillness with you
not knowing if we were smiling
or frowning
Laughing – or crying
A ray of stillness
cracks over the effulgence of your
lips
remembering a time when we
were together
as we always and never have been
Breath moves from my heart to yours
and back
tearing down this absurd aloneness
and the fears of that first step
We are never alone -
the rivers
and the fluttering wings of hummingbirds
A quiet night.
A bright, earthy morning.
A starlit sky offering itself in splendor.
Everything is enough.
