You can ponder scripture.
Or you can
ponder the events of daily life.
It's all the same...
I am reminded of words spoken to a
retreat director, by an elderly nun, who simply told him – after
a long, long silence - during
which he sensed that
something really profound was being pondered: “Father," she insisted, "Everything leads to God. Everything. Everything. Everything.”
Now
it's nice when that “everything” is a sunny morning in Spring. A
cloudless sky, intense blue hovering over dewy grass that hasn't yet
been mowed. Plants springing up, everything budding, unless already leafed out. Like this
morning.
How easy it is to let that
lead you to God!
But
that's not what this post is about.
I
have another quote in mind, related to the spiritual path being “not
about self-improvement but about self-abandonment.” But what does
that mean? And how does it relate to the quiet certainty of an
elderly nun? How does it relate to something I read this morning
about “temperament” in a sport one generally connects with politeness, green
grass and the beauty of nature? And what benefit can we glean from
this?
Consider
these interesting thoughts
from a sports writer:
All golfers understand intuitively the pursuit of that blend of Zen calm and athletic aggressiveness that goes hand-in-hand with the best performance.
[Versus] … a perfectionist’s torment, dropping clubs, closing his eyes in disgust, his whole body deflating as he missed putts.
You glimpse how mercilessly golf waits for your serenity, your sense of self or skill or dignity, to alter or deteriorate, or simply change in any way, so that it can drive you deeper into your private perditions — all while you perform in public.
Under pressure, his current temperament … [coming] precariously close to disintegrating.
Elite-level golf, where every act takes place as you stand isolated, demands more of us than many religions and offers less support. Are we forgiving of ourselves? Do we feel persecuted or unlucky? Any lack of self-esteem reveals itself. Are we jealous of those who are more gifted or getting good breaks? Do we look for excuses or ways to shift blame? Can we be satisfied with our best effort, or is a successful result essential? Are we forgiving of ourselves?
What
especially caught my eye was this:
“the pursuit of that blend of Zen calm and athletic aggressiveness”
.... [which]
“demands more of us than many religions and offers less support.”
Um...
no. I beg to differ!
To
paraphrase the elderly nun: Everything points us in the direction of
Holy Mystery.
Everything
asks of us self-abandonment.
Selflessness.
Letting go of efforts to force things, to control them. Even
while practicing one's craft. Be
it prayer. Be it work. Be it play.
There
are many Zen stories and Sufi stories, stories of religious saints of
whatever persuasion where you find that it is the gardener or the
cook or the servant who has attained that blend
of
“Zen calm” and transformed
“aggression” - which is the mark of a true saint. A person of
total compassion and ego-emptiness, a person of pin-point being
in
the moment, able to speak or act
true
to the moment. That's the nothingness
I
keep circling in post after post. The emptiness
which
is a kind of readiness
based on long experience with just the very kind of difficulties
described by the writer above. But instead of “golf” let us
substitute “life”:
You glimpse how mercilessly [life] waits for your serenity, your sense of self or skill or dignity, to alter or deteriorate, or simply change in any way, so that it can drive you deeper into your private perditions — all while you perform in public.
Now,
you're probably thinking that what “drive[s] you
deeper into your private perditions” isn't necessarily a public
act. But maybe you can agree with the rest of it.
I
think the key problem is letting go of “performing”. Letting go
of performance.
That's where self
or ego
become
problematic. That's when we aren't really being
in the moment
but instead have become spectators
of our own performance.
Evaluators!
So
any person who seeks
anything
at all bumps up against this struggle. This need to practice while
simultaneously letting go of attainment, letting go of
self-consciousness. It's the same whether we're discussing
meditation or Tai-Chi or chopping vegetables for stir-fry. It all
starts
with
desire
to achieve. With the mustering of effort – which means an aspect
of “aggression” enters in. The “drive” to achieve relates to
aggression. Aggression can be our friend. And aggression can be our
enemy.
And
I wonder if one's whole (spiritual) life is nothing more than this
wresting
match
– I'm thinking of Jacob
wrestling all night with the angel. And I'm thinking of a line
from T.S. Eliot's
Four
Quartets:
The
whole earth is our hospital
Endowed
by the ruined millionaire,
Wherein,
if we do well, we shall
Die
of the absolute paternal care
That
will not leave us, but prevents us everywhere.
And
remember, the wrestling
match ended
with Jacob being given a new
name, but
only after his hip socket has been dislocated (permanently!) “because
you have contended with the divine and have prevailed.”
Prevailed? Not exactly, I'd say. Not in the sense of achieving.
Only in the sense of personal transformation – through
struggle – and
at a price. The loss of one's former self. A kind of death.
In
exchange for a new perspective: A graced
gift.
