A mentor recently reminded me of this:
"The Real Work," by Wendell Berry
It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,
and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
If You Ain't Right Within
Ran eight miles today and have no pain -- sweet!
While running I listened to The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, my favorite album, and caught her reference to Psalm 73 for the first time. I think it applies to runner's envy, which I get sometimes, since I am a slow runner with bad knees on a college campus with lots of fast runners:
Surely God is good...
to those who are pure in heart.
But as for me, my feet had almost slipped;
I had nearly lost my foothold.
For I envied the arrogant...
They have no struggles;
their bodies are healthy and strong.
They are free from common human burdens;
they are not plagued by human ills.
Unfortunately, the Psalm is about condemning the wicked (which does not apply here) and is pretty intolerant. But it is also about not desiring what you don't have, and learning to love what you do have:
My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever.
Although this Psalmist is tormented much more by his own inadequacy than I am by mine, I appreciate the peace that he finds despite his weaknesses.
As a rising star (who happened to be female) in the hip hop world cutting an album that would change history, Lauryn Hill had her own reasons for choosing Psalm 73. I don't blame her. As for me, I pick Psalm 131:
Psalm 131
A song of ascents.
My heart is not proud, LORD,
my eyes are not haughty;
I do not concern myself with great matters
or things too wonderful for me.
But I have calmed and quieted myself,
I am like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child I am content.
May you find calm in the week ahead!
While running I listened to The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, my favorite album, and caught her reference to Psalm 73 for the first time. I think it applies to runner's envy, which I get sometimes, since I am a slow runner with bad knees on a college campus with lots of fast runners:
Surely God is good...
to those who are pure in heart.
But as for me, my feet had almost slipped;
I had nearly lost my foothold.
For I envied the arrogant...
They have no struggles;
their bodies are healthy and strong.
They are free from common human burdens;
they are not plagued by human ills.
Unfortunately, the Psalm is about condemning the wicked (which does not apply here) and is pretty intolerant. But it is also about not desiring what you don't have, and learning to love what you do have:
My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever.
Although this Psalmist is tormented much more by his own inadequacy than I am by mine, I appreciate the peace that he finds despite his weaknesses.
As a rising star (who happened to be female) in the hip hop world cutting an album that would change history, Lauryn Hill had her own reasons for choosing Psalm 73. I don't blame her. As for me, I pick Psalm 131:
Psalm 131
A song of ascents.
My heart is not proud, LORD,
my eyes are not haughty;
I do not concern myself with great matters
or things too wonderful for me.
But I have calmed and quieted myself,
I am like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child I am content.
May you find calm in the week ahead!
Saturday, August 27, 2011
God Be in My Head
I decided not to go running out in the hurricane winds today, but I wanted to. Instead, I immersed myself in the energy of the outdoors by sitting on the porch, a favorite Southern pastime I learned from my grandparents.
Whether I run or not on a given day usually has more to do with my mind than the weather. Getting my head in the right place to start a run can sometimes be a great challenge.
I've been reading about Yoruba religious tradition, where the head and mind are taken very seriously. In Yoruba religion it is believed that the divine (personal god, or orisha) dwells in the head of every person. Yoruba practitioners understand that as our heads harbor our personalities and our memories, so they harbor our sacred selves.
This reminds me of a hymn that I used to hear in Duke Chapel as an undergraduate when my roommate was in the choir. Sometimes I would make it out of bed early enough to go to the service that started at 11am!
"God Be in My Head"
lyrics: Sarum Primer 16th century
music: John Rutter
God be in my head, and in my understanding
God be in mine eyes, and in my looking
God be in my mouth and in my speaking
God be in my heart, and in my thinking
God be at mine end, and at my departing.
I couldn't find a video of the Duke Chapel Choir singing it, but here's another choir that does it almost as beautifully:
I'm going to use this song as my runner's prayer for tomorrow. Hopefully, the god in my head will feel like running. :)
Whether I run or not on a given day usually has more to do with my mind than the weather. Getting my head in the right place to start a run can sometimes be a great challenge.
I've been reading about Yoruba religious tradition, where the head and mind are taken very seriously. In Yoruba religion it is believed that the divine (personal god, or orisha) dwells in the head of every person. Yoruba practitioners understand that as our heads harbor our personalities and our memories, so they harbor our sacred selves.
This reminds me of a hymn that I used to hear in Duke Chapel as an undergraduate when my roommate was in the choir. Sometimes I would make it out of bed early enough to go to the service that started at 11am!
"God Be in My Head"
lyrics: Sarum Primer 16th century
music: John Rutter
God be in my head, and in my understanding
God be in mine eyes, and in my looking
God be in my mouth and in my speaking
God be in my heart, and in my thinking
God be at mine end, and at my departing.
I couldn't find a video of the Duke Chapel Choir singing it, but here's another choir that does it almost as beautifully:
I'm going to use this song as my runner's prayer for tomorrow. Hopefully, the god in my head will feel like running. :)
Friday, August 26, 2011
Tongs T-tongs Tongs Tongs
For tomorrow:
Here's a brain-teaser from the Pirkei Avot, or "Sayings of the Fathers," a beloved wisdom text in Judaism:
If tongs are needed for a person to make tongs, then who created the first tongs?
Yes, I'm talking about the domestic appliance.
The question comes from a passage regarding what God created on the twilight of the eve of the Sabbath:
Ten things were created at twilight of Shabbat eve. These are: the mouth of the earth [that swallowed Korach]; the mouth of [Miriam's] well; the mouth of [Balaam's] ass; the rainbow; the manna; [Moses'] staff; the shamir; the writing, the inscription and the tablets [of the Ten Commandments]. Some say also the burial place of Moses and the ram of our father Abraham. And some say also the spirits of destruction as well as the original tongs, for tongs are made with tongs.
If you're interested in the passage, here's a commentary.
The twilight of Shabbat eve is just before sundown on Friday, when the world for Jews transitions from mundane to sacred time. The atmosphere is liminal and somewhat magical. If you're trying to get home before sundown, your senses are operating on over-drive. If you're God trying to finish up the work of Creation at the last minute, crazy things can happen. Like tongs.
Sometimes we need to distract ourselves with absurd questions or playful projects because doing so is the only thing that makes sense. Creative distractions can help free us up mentally to realize within ourselves the ability to carry on.
God's creations on Shabbat eve listed by the rabbis seem as though He was free-associating a bit with the universe. After a whole week trying to design the cosmos, getting all the essentials in place, perhaps the world seemed nonsensical. Why not then create a talking-donkey's mouth? Or a magical worm that could cut through stone (shamir)?
And of course, tongs to create tongs, dor v'dor (Hebrew, "from generation to generation") of tongs!
By then, God may have sensed (without saying so, since he reportedly said the opposite) that the world He'd created was already broken (if all was perfect, would we need tongs?), and at this, He wanted to laugh.
Tongs might very well be God's post-modern touch on the Ultimate masterpiece. I like to think so.
Shabbat shalom!
PS: Here's a video of Israeli blacksmith Uri Hofi (notice the Hebrew writing on his shirt) forging the first half of a pair of tongs. Listen to the rhythm!
Here's a brain-teaser from the Pirkei Avot, or "Sayings of the Fathers," a beloved wisdom text in Judaism:
If tongs are needed for a person to make tongs, then who created the first tongs?
Yes, I'm talking about the domestic appliance.
The question comes from a passage regarding what God created on the twilight of the eve of the Sabbath:
Ten things were created at twilight of Shabbat eve. These are: the mouth of the earth [that swallowed Korach]; the mouth of [Miriam's] well; the mouth of [Balaam's] ass; the rainbow; the manna; [Moses'] staff; the shamir; the writing, the inscription and the tablets [of the Ten Commandments]. Some say also the burial place of Moses and the ram of our father Abraham. And some say also the spirits of destruction as well as the original tongs, for tongs are made with tongs.
If you're interested in the passage, here's a commentary.
The twilight of Shabbat eve is just before sundown on Friday, when the world for Jews transitions from mundane to sacred time. The atmosphere is liminal and somewhat magical. If you're trying to get home before sundown, your senses are operating on over-drive. If you're God trying to finish up the work of Creation at the last minute, crazy things can happen. Like tongs.
Sometimes we need to distract ourselves with absurd questions or playful projects because doing so is the only thing that makes sense. Creative distractions can help free us up mentally to realize within ourselves the ability to carry on.
God's creations on Shabbat eve listed by the rabbis seem as though He was free-associating a bit with the universe. After a whole week trying to design the cosmos, getting all the essentials in place, perhaps the world seemed nonsensical. Why not then create a talking-donkey's mouth? Or a magical worm that could cut through stone (shamir)?
And of course, tongs to create tongs, dor v'dor (Hebrew, "from generation to generation") of tongs!
By then, God may have sensed (without saying so, since he reportedly said the opposite) that the world He'd created was already broken (if all was perfect, would we need tongs?), and at this, He wanted to laugh.
Tongs might very well be God's post-modern touch on the Ultimate masterpiece. I like to think so.
Shabbat shalom!
PS: Here's a video of Israeli blacksmith Uri Hofi (notice the Hebrew writing on his shirt) forging the first half of a pair of tongs. Listen to the rhythm!
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Every Day and Hour
For tomorrow: Pursue the endless path.
The more I run, the more I realize that it is no longer about the miles. Achieving mile goals is what kept me running early on, but now I'm starting to see the experience as a continuum -- quite literally, an endless path.
I've never really felt that running would lead to some sort of enlightened state of being, even though it is a profoundly spiritual pursuit. One of my literary heroes, Jorge Luis Borges, writes that we will never truly be finished becoming who we are:
You have wakened not out of sleep, but into a prior dream, and that dream lies within another, and so on, to infinity, which is the number of grains of sand. The path that you are to take is endless, and you will die before you have truly awakened.
The hope we have is not in reaching our goal; it is in experiencing the aesthetic beauty of the here and now that is textured anew from moment to moment. As Borges writes,
...every day is different and maybe every hour as well.
Happy Birthday, Sr. Borges!
The more I run, the more I realize that it is no longer about the miles. Achieving mile goals is what kept me running early on, but now I'm starting to see the experience as a continuum -- quite literally, an endless path.
I've never really felt that running would lead to some sort of enlightened state of being, even though it is a profoundly spiritual pursuit. One of my literary heroes, Jorge Luis Borges, writes that we will never truly be finished becoming who we are:
You have wakened not out of sleep, but into a prior dream, and that dream lies within another, and so on, to infinity, which is the number of grains of sand. The path that you are to take is endless, and you will die before you have truly awakened.
The hope we have is not in reaching our goal; it is in experiencing the aesthetic beauty of the here and now that is textured anew from moment to moment. As Borges writes,
...every day is different and maybe every hour as well.
Happy Birthday, Sr. Borges!
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
What Was Already There
For tomorrow: Pause and let others pass.
One sidewalk
May hide another, as when you're asleep there, and
One song hide another song; a pounding upstairs
Hide the beating of drums. One friend may hide another, you sit at the
foot of a tree
With one and when you get up to leave there is another
Whom you'd have preferred to talk to all along. One teacher,
One doctor, one ecstasy, one illness, one woman, one man
May hide another. Pause to let the first one pass.
You think, Now it is safe to cross and you are hit by the next one. It
can be important
To have waited at least a moment to see what was already there.
-Kenneth Koch, from his wonderful poem, "One Train May Hide Another"
One sidewalk
May hide another, as when you're asleep there, and
One song hide another song; a pounding upstairs
Hide the beating of drums. One friend may hide another, you sit at the
foot of a tree
With one and when you get up to leave there is another
Whom you'd have preferred to talk to all along. One teacher,
One doctor, one ecstasy, one illness, one woman, one man
May hide another. Pause to let the first one pass.
You think, Now it is safe to cross and you are hit by the next one. It
can be important
To have waited at least a moment to see what was already there.
-Kenneth Koch, from his wonderful poem, "One Train May Hide Another"
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Birthday Eve
It's my birthday eve! I'm very happy to have made it another year around the sun.
For August 22:
How can I possibly sleep
This moonlit evening?
Come, my friends,
Let’s sing and dance
All night long.
-Ryokan, zen poet
For August 22:
How can I possibly sleep
This moonlit evening?
Come, my friends,
Let’s sing and dance
All night long.
-Ryokan, zen poet
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Live the Questions Now
For Thursday, August 18:
...I would like to beg you dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.
Rainer Maria Rilke, 1903
in Letters to a Young Poet
...I would like to beg you dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.
Rainer Maria Rilke, 1903
in Letters to a Young Poet
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Life of Life
For Wednesday, August 17:
Look to this day:
For it is life, the very life of life.
In its brief course
Lie all the verities and realities of your existence.
-Kalidasa, Hindu poet, 5th century CE
Look to this day:
For it is life, the very life of life.
In its brief course
Lie all the verities and realities of your existence.
-Kalidasa, Hindu poet, 5th century CE
Monday, August 15, 2011
St. Thomas à Becket
For Tuesday, August 16: Choose the path of non-being.
One of my favorite plays is Jean Anouilh's Becket, about the 12th-century assassination of Archbishop St. Thomas à Becket of Canterbury by the henchmen of friend-turned-enemy Henry II. The play explores the psychology of friendship and the poisoning that lust for power has on human relationships.
King Henry, although he appoints Becket in his position, grows bitterly resentful of Becket's loyalty to God. He tries to challenge him at every turn, even poking fun at his commitment to honesty:
BECKET. It's true, my Lord.
Although affirming that his morality is merely aesthetics, Becket is the epitome of a Taoist Master. He yields to the fate that he has been given, and walks a path of non-being. Although he has the power of the Church, he accepts that he has nothing:
KING. Have you been touched by grace?
BECKET. Not by the one you think. I am not worthy of it.
As recorded in the Tao Te Ching, the characteristics of the Master are the following:
He has nothing,
thus has nothing to lose.
What he desires is non-desire;
what he learns is to unlearn.
He simply reminds people
of who they have always been.
I love Becket's character, despite the unhappy ending of the play, because he lives an authentic life. He is deeply aware of his flaws, but attains a serenity of being that makes him the true winner in the struggle. His presence reminds others of who they are. Unfortunately, Henry II can't bear to be reminded of himself, which is why he has him killed.
For me, there is a lesson here that it is worthy to live an authentic life because of what it means for our relationships. In being ourselves, we have the potential to remind others who they have always been. Hopefully, this will be to their benefit. While the real-life Henry II chose a murderous path, thousands of people flocked to Canterbury to visit St. Thomas's tomb -- in life and death, he touched them all.
From the Tao Te Ching, Chapter 16:
Empty your mind of all thoughts.
Let your heart be at peace.
Watch the turmoil of beings,
but contemplate their return.
Each separate being in the universe
returns to the common source.
Returning to the source is serenity.
One of my favorite plays is Jean Anouilh's Becket, about the 12th-century assassination of Archbishop St. Thomas à Becket of Canterbury by the henchmen of friend-turned-enemy Henry II. The play explores the psychology of friendship and the poisoning that lust for power has on human relationships.
King Henry, although he appoints Becket in his position, grows bitterly resentful of Becket's loyalty to God. He tries to challenge him at every turn, even poking fun at his commitment to honesty:
KING. [ . . . .] You can't tell a lie. I know you. Not because you're afraid of lies—I think you must be the only man I know who isn't afraid of anything—not even Heaven—but because it's distasteful to you. You consider it inelegant. What looks like morality in you is nothing more than esthetics. Is that true or isn't it?
BECKET. It's true, my Lord.
Although affirming that his morality is merely aesthetics, Becket is the epitome of a Taoist Master. He yields to the fate that he has been given, and walks a path of non-being. Although he has the power of the Church, he accepts that he has nothing:
KING. Have you been touched by grace?
BECKET. Not by the one you think. I am not worthy of it.
As recorded in the Tao Te Ching, the characteristics of the Master are the following:
He has nothing,
thus has nothing to lose.
What he desires is non-desire;
what he learns is to unlearn.
He simply reminds people
of who they have always been.
I love Becket's character, despite the unhappy ending of the play, because he lives an authentic life. He is deeply aware of his flaws, but attains a serenity of being that makes him the true winner in the struggle. His presence reminds others of who they are. Unfortunately, Henry II can't bear to be reminded of himself, which is why he has him killed.
For me, there is a lesson here that it is worthy to live an authentic life because of what it means for our relationships. In being ourselves, we have the potential to remind others who they have always been. Hopefully, this will be to their benefit. While the real-life Henry II chose a murderous path, thousands of people flocked to Canterbury to visit St. Thomas's tomb -- in life and death, he touched them all.
From the Tao Te Ching, Chapter 16:
Empty your mind of all thoughts.
Let your heart be at peace.
Watch the turmoil of beings,
but contemplate their return.
Each separate being in the universe
returns to the common source.
Returning to the source is serenity.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Break on Through
For Monday, August 15:
There are days when I fear that I am inadequately living out my calling to be a loving partner and parent, when I find myself lost and unable to communicate my feelings. Keeping on the course, despite these shortcomings and the critical voices in my head, is a choice that is presented to me every day.
In the Book of Deuteronomy, an inarticulate and self-conscious prophet by the name of Moses urges the people of Israel to choose blessings over curses, life over death (30:19). In order to do this, they must seek the Eternal in all that they do, including walking, eating, praying, speaking to their children, and -- pardon the creative license here-- running. :)
I imagine that Moses said all of this in a cold sweat, terrified by his inadequacy. He never wanted to be a prophet because he was afraid that no one would listen to him. At one point, he actually cries out to God, "If they don't listen to me, then what?!"
There's a Jewish saying taken from Deuteronomy: "L'dor v'dor," which means, "From generation to generation." It refers to Moses telling the people to love God and His teachings deeply in mind and body and to pass this love on to their children. This phrase has echoed in Jewish consciousness for centuries, poignantly from a stutterer who was afraid of his own voice.
Moses speaks to me not as a famous religious figure or prophet, but as someone who managed to break through the voices in his head to do what he was called to do.
As Jim Morrison reminds us:
Tried to run
Tried to hide
Break on through to the other side
Break on through to the other side
Break on through to the other side, yeah!
There are days when I fear that I am inadequately living out my calling to be a loving partner and parent, when I find myself lost and unable to communicate my feelings. Keeping on the course, despite these shortcomings and the critical voices in my head, is a choice that is presented to me every day.
In the Book of Deuteronomy, an inarticulate and self-conscious prophet by the name of Moses urges the people of Israel to choose blessings over curses, life over death (30:19). In order to do this, they must seek the Eternal in all that they do, including walking, eating, praying, speaking to their children, and -- pardon the creative license here-- running. :)
I imagine that Moses said all of this in a cold sweat, terrified by his inadequacy. He never wanted to be a prophet because he was afraid that no one would listen to him. At one point, he actually cries out to God, "If they don't listen to me, then what?!"
There's a Jewish saying taken from Deuteronomy: "L'dor v'dor," which means, "From generation to generation." It refers to Moses telling the people to love God and His teachings deeply in mind and body and to pass this love on to their children. This phrase has echoed in Jewish consciousness for centuries, poignantly from a stutterer who was afraid of his own voice.
Moses speaks to me not as a famous religious figure or prophet, but as someone who managed to break through the voices in his head to do what he was called to do.
As Jim Morrison reminds us:
Tried to run
Tried to hide
Break on through to the other side
Break on through to the other side
Break on through to the other side, yeah!
Friday, August 12, 2011
To Become Beautiful
For Saturday, August 12: Name and claim what gives you joy.
Inspired by conversations with a recent house guest, I revisited the words of June Jordan, a personal hero, on the connection between truth and beauty:
To tell the truth is to become beautiful, to begin to love yourself, value yourself. And that's political, in its most profound way.
--June Jordan
Sometimes truths are described as "ugly," or "bitter." In this context, though, June Jordan speaks of personal truth, the eternal truth that you are, even though others try to negate you. In other words, that you exist and are beautiful and worthy, even though racism, sexism and heterosexism may work to undermine your confidence. For a bisexual African-American woman in her time, her words were "worry words" for a society that regarded her as anything but beautiful.
To speak your personal truth is to be counter-cultural, even today. It requires a level of self-love that involves body, mind, spirit and speech; and yet, we are dynamic beings whose bodies, emotions and moods change. Our creeping doubts about our abilities obscure the deep truth that we know about ourselves. In those times when we do feel in touch with our personal truth, we have to grasp and hold on to it tightly.
Perhaps another way of saying, "personal truth" is, "inner joy." Our inner joy is the truth of who we are, and getting in touch with this joy makes us beautiful.
To speak of our inner joy, to give it a name and claim it, might very well be the great project of our lives.
From Carl Sandburg:
Let a joy keep you.
Reach out your hands
And take it when it runs by,
...
Joy always,
Joy everywhere—
Let joy kill you!
Keep away from the little deaths.
Inspired by conversations with a recent house guest, I revisited the words of June Jordan, a personal hero, on the connection between truth and beauty:
To tell the truth is to become beautiful, to begin to love yourself, value yourself. And that's political, in its most profound way.
--June Jordan
Sometimes truths are described as "ugly," or "bitter." In this context, though, June Jordan speaks of personal truth, the eternal truth that you are, even though others try to negate you. In other words, that you exist and are beautiful and worthy, even though racism, sexism and heterosexism may work to undermine your confidence. For a bisexual African-American woman in her time, her words were "worry words" for a society that regarded her as anything but beautiful.
To speak your personal truth is to be counter-cultural, even today. It requires a level of self-love that involves body, mind, spirit and speech; and yet, we are dynamic beings whose bodies, emotions and moods change. Our creeping doubts about our abilities obscure the deep truth that we know about ourselves. In those times when we do feel in touch with our personal truth, we have to grasp and hold on to it tightly.
Perhaps another way of saying, "personal truth" is, "inner joy." Our inner joy is the truth of who we are, and getting in touch with this joy makes us beautiful.
To speak of our inner joy, to give it a name and claim it, might very well be the great project of our lives.
From Carl Sandburg:
Let a joy keep you.
Reach out your hands
And take it when it runs by,
...
Joy always,
Joy everywhere—
Let joy kill you!
Keep away from the little deaths.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Nothing at All
For Friday, August 12:
I have nothing at all --
But this tranquility!
This coolness!
--Kobayashi Issa, Zen poet
I have nothing at all --
But this tranquility!
This coolness!
--Kobayashi Issa, Zen poet
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
What Comes Before
Meditation for Thursday, August 11: Find a doorway into silence and give thanks.
The rabbinic sages interpreting the Torah, or Hebrew Bible, asked a silly question: Why does the first book of the Torah, Bereishit (this is the Hebrew word for Genesis and is pronounced, bray-SHEET) start with the letter bet, the second letter of the Hebrew alphabet? They asked, shouldn't the book that is about the creation of the universe start with the first letter, alef?
The rabbis assumed that the language of the Torah, Hebrew, is the holiest language, and even the letters themselves are imbued with sacred light, written with black fire on white fire. They prized both literal and figurative readings of the text and looked actively for hidden meanings.
Figuring that God could not make a mistake, they decided that Bereishit must start with a B for a reason. From a silly question, they came to a profound conclusion: The beginning of things as we know them is not the true beginning. There is always something we won't know or understand about the Original nature of the universe. God gives us the story starting from page 2, and about the rest, He keeps silent.
What comes before the first book of Creation, then, is the Mystery of Creation -- the Silent "A". Perhaps a Buddhist might call it non-existence, the true nature of all things.
In our relationships and daily interactions with others, there is an element of mystery, as we cannot know everything about another person and what they are going though. We may find that respecting this mystery helps us to become more connected and compassionate people.
We might also consider that we ourselves are a mystery, as we do not know fully where we were before we were born, what makes us pulse with life, and what will happen when we die. In exploring these essential questions, we find deep silence.
I am trying lately to get back in touch with silence. In my running, this means becoming aware of the silent, non-existence at the heart of my being that rests between the beats of the pulse and the inhales and exhales of the breath. In my work, this means to be aware that being a teacher does not mean that I am supposed to talk about all that I know, or think I know.
In getting ready to start the new school year, teaching is very much in the forefront of my mind. I think about it whether I am running, lying down, or getting up. It weaves into my praying.
I like the ending of Mary Oliver's poem, "Praying," because it sums up how I am coming to feel about teaching:
this isn't
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.
I hope that both my teaching and my running practice this year will be doorways into thanks and silence. This is my prayer.
The rabbinic sages interpreting the Torah, or Hebrew Bible, asked a silly question: Why does the first book of the Torah, Bereishit (this is the Hebrew word for Genesis and is pronounced, bray-SHEET) start with the letter bet, the second letter of the Hebrew alphabet? They asked, shouldn't the book that is about the creation of the universe start with the first letter, alef?
The rabbis assumed that the language of the Torah, Hebrew, is the holiest language, and even the letters themselves are imbued with sacred light, written with black fire on white fire. They prized both literal and figurative readings of the text and looked actively for hidden meanings.
Figuring that God could not make a mistake, they decided that Bereishit must start with a B for a reason. From a silly question, they came to a profound conclusion: The beginning of things as we know them is not the true beginning. There is always something we won't know or understand about the Original nature of the universe. God gives us the story starting from page 2, and about the rest, He keeps silent.
What comes before the first book of Creation, then, is the Mystery of Creation -- the Silent "A". Perhaps a Buddhist might call it non-existence, the true nature of all things.
In our relationships and daily interactions with others, there is an element of mystery, as we cannot know everything about another person and what they are going though. We may find that respecting this mystery helps us to become more connected and compassionate people.
We might also consider that we ourselves are a mystery, as we do not know fully where we were before we were born, what makes us pulse with life, and what will happen when we die. In exploring these essential questions, we find deep silence.
I am trying lately to get back in touch with silence. In my running, this means becoming aware of the silent, non-existence at the heart of my being that rests between the beats of the pulse and the inhales and exhales of the breath. In my work, this means to be aware that being a teacher does not mean that I am supposed to talk about all that I know, or think I know.
In getting ready to start the new school year, teaching is very much in the forefront of my mind. I think about it whether I am running, lying down, or getting up. It weaves into my praying.
I like the ending of Mary Oliver's poem, "Praying," because it sums up how I am coming to feel about teaching:
this isn't
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.
I hope that both my teaching and my running practice this year will be doorways into thanks and silence. This is my prayer.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Ave Verum Corpus
Meditation for Wednesday, August 10: In you is the unity of heaven and earth.
I have always been fascinated with transubstantiation, the belief in Roman Catholicism that the Eucharist (communion wine and wafer) is the real physical presence of Christ. In taking communion, believers are literally taking God inside, transforming themselves into places where Heaven unites with Earth.
The first time I witnessed communion, I was four years old, attending mass with my cousins in my hometown's only Catholic church. The church sits on the rise of the highest hill in the downtown area, offering a beautiful view of the sky and mountains around. Fittingly, the call letters of the nearby AM radio station, WHKP, stand for the phrase, "Where the Heavens Kiss the Peaks."
Watching my cousins drink from the cup and take the wafers into their mouths deeply attracted me to the mystery. Not being Catholic, though, I didn't get to taste God in my mouth that morning.
Perhaps it is ironic that one of my favorite hymns is Ave Verum Corpus, composed in the 14th century to be sung during Catholic mass as the priest elevates the host (body of Christ) for consecration. The title means, "Hail, true Body."
I see universal importance in the meaning of the Eucharist as an injunction to be fully present in every moment as best we can. Catholics believe that God is Fully Present in the Eucharist, which is an incredibly powerful thing. If God can do it, can we?
For Buddhist monks who walk meditatively in gardens, paying heed to every physical sensation, thought, motion and breath, being fully present is its own reward. There is also the expectation that it will lead one to having greater compassion for others.
Being present with ourselves as we run is about cultivating the kind of awareness that connects mind with body. Doing so can only make us more whole, more real. In that way, we can become the great unity of all things.
Hail, true body!
I have always been fascinated with transubstantiation, the belief in Roman Catholicism that the Eucharist (communion wine and wafer) is the real physical presence of Christ. In taking communion, believers are literally taking God inside, transforming themselves into places where Heaven unites with Earth.
The first time I witnessed communion, I was four years old, attending mass with my cousins in my hometown's only Catholic church. The church sits on the rise of the highest hill in the downtown area, offering a beautiful view of the sky and mountains around. Fittingly, the call letters of the nearby AM radio station, WHKP, stand for the phrase, "Where the Heavens Kiss the Peaks."
Watching my cousins drink from the cup and take the wafers into their mouths deeply attracted me to the mystery. Not being Catholic, though, I didn't get to taste God in my mouth that morning.
Perhaps it is ironic that one of my favorite hymns is Ave Verum Corpus, composed in the 14th century to be sung during Catholic mass as the priest elevates the host (body of Christ) for consecration. The title means, "Hail, true Body."
I see universal importance in the meaning of the Eucharist as an injunction to be fully present in every moment as best we can. Catholics believe that God is Fully Present in the Eucharist, which is an incredibly powerful thing. If God can do it, can we?
For Buddhist monks who walk meditatively in gardens, paying heed to every physical sensation, thought, motion and breath, being fully present is its own reward. There is also the expectation that it will lead one to having greater compassion for others.
Being present with ourselves as we run is about cultivating the kind of awareness that connects mind with body. Doing so can only make us more whole, more real. In that way, we can become the great unity of all things.
Hail, true body!
Monday, August 8, 2011
Arise, Shine
Meditation for Tuesday, August 9: Accept yourself as a source of light.
In our every action and breath, we emanate light. This is an idea we've inherited from devout mystics during the Middle Ages across the Middle East, Africa and Europe, male and female, Jewish, Christian and Muslim. Although diverse in gender, ethnicity and religious tradition, they shared an addiction to experiencing the love of the divine directly. They did so by looking within.
"Drunken" Sufi mystics in medieval Iran were so named because their yearning and love for God caused them to act crazy, or drunk, in the eyes of others. Many were impassioned writers who produced beautiful poetry. Hafiz is one of the most famous. His name means, "One who has memorized the Qur'an."
Here are a couple of poems from his radiant pen:
"My Brilliant Image"
One day the sun admitted,
I am just a shadow.
I wish I could show you
The Infinite Incandescence (Tej)
That has cast my brilliant image!
I wish I could show you,
When you are lonely or in darkness,
The astonishing Light
Of your own Being!
"Several Times in the Last Week"
Ever since Happiness heard your name
It has been running through the streets
Trying to find you.
And several times in the last week,
God Himself has even come to my door-
Asking me for your address!
Once I said,
“God,
I thought You knew everything.
Why are You asking me
Where Your lovers live?”
And the Beloved replied,
Indeed, Hafiz, I do know Everything –
But it is fun playing dumb once in a while.
And I love intimate chat
And the warmth of your heart’s fire.
Maybe we should make this poem into a song-
I think it has potential!
How far does this refrain sound,
For I know it is a Truth:
Ever since Happiness heard your name,
It has been running through the streets
Trying to find you.
And several times in the last week,
God Himself has come to my door-
So sweetly asking for your address,
Wanting the beautiful warmth of your heart’s fire.
One of my favorite songs of all time is Steel Pulse's, "Your House," a very simple song about a lover wanting to live with his Beloved. It reminds me of the poem above where God is seeking out the warmth and light of the individual soul.
On your next run, whether it is joyful or difficult, try to visualize yourself as light emanating from its Source.
From Isaiah, Chapter 60, verse 1:
Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.
In our every action and breath, we emanate light. This is an idea we've inherited from devout mystics during the Middle Ages across the Middle East, Africa and Europe, male and female, Jewish, Christian and Muslim. Although diverse in gender, ethnicity and religious tradition, they shared an addiction to experiencing the love of the divine directly. They did so by looking within.
"Drunken" Sufi mystics in medieval Iran were so named because their yearning and love for God caused them to act crazy, or drunk, in the eyes of others. Many were impassioned writers who produced beautiful poetry. Hafiz is one of the most famous. His name means, "One who has memorized the Qur'an."
Here are a couple of poems from his radiant pen:
"My Brilliant Image"
One day the sun admitted,
I am just a shadow.
I wish I could show you
The Infinite Incandescence (Tej)
That has cast my brilliant image!
I wish I could show you,
When you are lonely or in darkness,
The astonishing Light
Of your own Being!
"Several Times in the Last Week"
Ever since Happiness heard your name
It has been running through the streets
Trying to find you.
And several times in the last week,
God Himself has even come to my door-
Asking me for your address!
Once I said,
“God,
I thought You knew everything.
Why are You asking me
Where Your lovers live?”
And the Beloved replied,
Indeed, Hafiz, I do know Everything –
But it is fun playing dumb once in a while.
And I love intimate chat
And the warmth of your heart’s fire.
Maybe we should make this poem into a song-
I think it has potential!
How far does this refrain sound,
For I know it is a Truth:
Ever since Happiness heard your name,
It has been running through the streets
Trying to find you.
And several times in the last week,
God Himself has come to my door-
So sweetly asking for your address,
Wanting the beautiful warmth of your heart’s fire.
One of my favorite songs of all time is Steel Pulse's, "Your House," a very simple song about a lover wanting to live with his Beloved. It reminds me of the poem above where God is seeking out the warmth and light of the individual soul.
On your next run, whether it is joyful or difficult, try to visualize yourself as light emanating from its Source.
From Isaiah, Chapter 60, verse 1:
Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.
All Paths
Meditation for Monday, August 8:
Say not, "I have found the truth," but rather, "I have found a truth."
Say not, "I have found the path of the soul. "Say rather, "I have met the soul walking upon my path."
For the soul walks upon all paths.
The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.
The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.
--Kahlil Gibran
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Tobina!
Meditation for Sunday, August 7: When things are going well, and when they aren't, dance!
I just spent about half an hour searching for a song I remember hearing almost a year ago on NPR, and am so excited to have found it again. The artist is Daddy Owen from the Democratic Republic of Congo, and the genre is lingala, a type of central African dance music. NPR featured it on All Things Considered last year as the #1 song booming out of Nairobi, Kenya's dancehalls and churches:
To quote the person who posted it to YouTube, the lyrics roughly mean, "When things are going well and when they aren't, praise the Lord and... TOBINA! (DANCE!!!!)"
Nuff said. Enjoy your weekend.
I just spent about half an hour searching for a song I remember hearing almost a year ago on NPR, and am so excited to have found it again. The artist is Daddy Owen from the Democratic Republic of Congo, and the genre is lingala, a type of central African dance music. NPR featured it on All Things Considered last year as the #1 song booming out of Nairobi, Kenya's dancehalls and churches:
To quote the person who posted it to YouTube, the lyrics roughly mean, "When things are going well and when they aren't, praise the Lord and... TOBINA! (DANCE!!!!)"
Nuff said. Enjoy your weekend.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Cardboard Sign Sutra
Meditation for Saturday, August 6: Drink from the living well of the present.
Yesterday, halfway through my run, I decided to take a spontaneous detour through Duke Divinity School and Duke Chapel, to refresh myself with water from the Div School water fountain and to enjoy standing over the massive floor air conditioning vents in the dark serenity of the chapel. Even in the few, quiet breaths of time I spent in those places, they offered me an oasis from the blistering hot day.
Today, I encountered an oasis of a spiritual kind, upon receiving a blessing from a man standing in the traffic median soliciting money. He had a sign that read, "If I can smile, so can you!" And I thought, how true. When I gave him $2, he said to me, "Bless you, ma'am. I pray that you receive this back one hundred times over when you need it."
The experience reminded me of the Flower Sutra, a story from the Buddha's ministry (sutra roughly translated means "teaching," but literally means, "thread that holds things together;" think of the medical term, suture). One day, the Buddha tells his disciples he has nothing more to say to them, and holds up a flower. One of his disciples smiles with understanding, and to this disciple, the Buddha promises his legacy.
The cardboard sign with writing on it was not as hard to decode as a flower, but it made me smile with understanding. Upon reading it, I realized the richness of the present moment, in which I had everything in the world to smile about. As I smiled, I sensed myself touching the eternal.
When we awaken to the present as I did in the car today, is the deepest well we will ever encounter. Like an oasis in the desert, we should receive it with joy.
From the Book of Isaiah, chapter 55, verse 1:
Come, all you who are thirsty,
come to the waters;
and you who have no money,
come...
Yesterday, halfway through my run, I decided to take a spontaneous detour through Duke Divinity School and Duke Chapel, to refresh myself with water from the Div School water fountain and to enjoy standing over the massive floor air conditioning vents in the dark serenity of the chapel. Even in the few, quiet breaths of time I spent in those places, they offered me an oasis from the blistering hot day.
Today, I encountered an oasis of a spiritual kind, upon receiving a blessing from a man standing in the traffic median soliciting money. He had a sign that read, "If I can smile, so can you!" And I thought, how true. When I gave him $2, he said to me, "Bless you, ma'am. I pray that you receive this back one hundred times over when you need it."
The experience reminded me of the Flower Sutra, a story from the Buddha's ministry (sutra roughly translated means "teaching," but literally means, "thread that holds things together;" think of the medical term, suture). One day, the Buddha tells his disciples he has nothing more to say to them, and holds up a flower. One of his disciples smiles with understanding, and to this disciple, the Buddha promises his legacy.
The cardboard sign with writing on it was not as hard to decode as a flower, but it made me smile with understanding. Upon reading it, I realized the richness of the present moment, in which I had everything in the world to smile about. As I smiled, I sensed myself touching the eternal.
When we awaken to the present as I did in the car today, is the deepest well we will ever encounter. Like an oasis in the desert, we should receive it with joy.
From the Book of Isaiah, chapter 55, verse 1:
Come, all you who are thirsty,
come to the waters;
and you who have no money,
come...
Thursday, August 4, 2011
No Greater Love
Meditation for Friday, August 5: Believe in yourself with your full heart.
Today, I ran 6.7 miles, up from 1 mile in mid-June. I never believed that I could be a runner until this year. Belief is a powerful thing.
In a 2006 lecture I watched on YouTube today, religion scholar Karen Armstrong discusses the meaning of the word, "believe" in three languages:
* The English "believe" comes from the Old English, belyfan, "to hold dear, love"
* The Latin "credo" is thought to come from kerd-dhe- (Indo-European), meaning, "to put one's heart"
* The Greek, "pisteuo," means "to trust"
I am most taken with the idea that love is central to the meaning of belief. In none of these definitions is there a sense of intellectually grasping or knowing. Rather, holding, trusting, loving are the required elements.
Mahayana Buddhists, who view compassion as the central focus of their religion, have chosen to refuse entering nirvana until every last person has reached it. This could mean endless cycles of death and re-birth, lifetimes upon lifetimes spent in service to helping individuals awaken to the Buddha's teachings that suffering can be overcome.
Jesus is quoted in the Gospel of John as saying, "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends (John 15:13). Mahayana monks model Jesus' example of love in the ultimate sense.
To choose compassion and helping the masses over nirvana is an incredible statement of love -- but also, imagine how much these monks have to believe in themselves in order to take on the responsibility of helping billions of people achieve enlightenment!
Before this year, I never really trusted myself enough to take on the physical, mental and emotional challenge of distance running; now, I know that I believe in myself to do it. When we believe fully in ourselves, it is an act of great love. This love can transform us into becoming better runners, and it also can help us move the world to a more perfect place.
From Marianne Williamson:
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
Amen!
Today, I ran 6.7 miles, up from 1 mile in mid-June. I never believed that I could be a runner until this year. Belief is a powerful thing.
In a 2006 lecture I watched on YouTube today, religion scholar Karen Armstrong discusses the meaning of the word, "believe" in three languages:
* The English "believe" comes from the Old English, belyfan, "to hold dear, love"
* The Latin "credo" is thought to come from kerd-dhe- (Indo-European), meaning, "to put one's heart"
* The Greek, "pisteuo," means "to trust"
I am most taken with the idea that love is central to the meaning of belief. In none of these definitions is there a sense of intellectually grasping or knowing. Rather, holding, trusting, loving are the required elements.
Mahayana Buddhists, who view compassion as the central focus of their religion, have chosen to refuse entering nirvana until every last person has reached it. This could mean endless cycles of death and re-birth, lifetimes upon lifetimes spent in service to helping individuals awaken to the Buddha's teachings that suffering can be overcome.
Jesus is quoted in the Gospel of John as saying, "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends (John 15:13). Mahayana monks model Jesus' example of love in the ultimate sense.
To choose compassion and helping the masses over nirvana is an incredible statement of love -- but also, imagine how much these monks have to believe in themselves in order to take on the responsibility of helping billions of people achieve enlightenment!
Before this year, I never really trusted myself enough to take on the physical, mental and emotional challenge of distance running; now, I know that I believe in myself to do it. When we believe fully in ourselves, it is an act of great love. This love can transform us into becoming better runners, and it also can help us move the world to a more perfect place.
From Marianne Williamson:
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
Amen!
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Free Flight
Meditation for Thursday, August 4: Find new meaning in your routine.
The search for meaning is an act of the theological imagination, but we often focus too much on the larger questions -- the afterlife, the grand scheme, etc. In doing so, we miss the vital importance of finding meaning in our mundane activities.
In Zen Buddhism, the search for meaning begins with the mundane and with the breaking free of language. If we bind ourselves too closely to concepts and entrenched modes of thought, we can never reach enlightenment. Finding new meaning in your running routine is part of caring for your spirit and your life. Let it come to you without words.
This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless...
-Walt Whitman
The search for meaning is an act of the theological imagination, but we often focus too much on the larger questions -- the afterlife, the grand scheme, etc. In doing so, we miss the vital importance of finding meaning in our mundane activities.
In Zen Buddhism, the search for meaning begins with the mundane and with the breaking free of language. If we bind ourselves too closely to concepts and entrenched modes of thought, we can never reach enlightenment. Finding new meaning in your running routine is part of caring for your spirit and your life. Let it come to you without words.
This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless...
-Walt Whitman
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Mind is Moving
Meditation for Wednesday, August 3: Let others renew you.
On my 6-mile run this morning, I met a die-hard runner with stringy hair in his late 50s-early 60s who had a very compelling, Easy Rider/Jesus look about him. As he passed by, he told me to lower my arms a bit, saying it would make things easier. He looked strong and fast (in addition to the Dennis Hopper-Jesus thing), so I did what he said. Instantly, my shoulders felt lighter and my chest opened up, allowing me to take deeper breaths. From taking his advice, I gained renewed energy.
As much as I enjoy the solitude of running, I needed this human interaction to help me improve. I may have figured it out eventually, but the change made such a difference in my running experience that I am very glad he found me when he did.
Renewal comes in many forms, and it's often unexpected. Sometimes, all that is required is a minor adjustment like moving your arms. However, it is possible to look at it another way. I'm reminded of a Zen Buddhist koan:
We have to empty ourselves a little in order to receive the words of someone else, but that's a good thing. We know from the Tao Te Ching that it is the emptiness inside that makes the pot useful.
Here's a poem about emptiness, and what it means to hold it, by Jane Hirschfeld:
On my 6-mile run this morning, I met a die-hard runner with stringy hair in his late 50s-early 60s who had a very compelling, Easy Rider/Jesus look about him. As he passed by, he told me to lower my arms a bit, saying it would make things easier. He looked strong and fast (in addition to the Dennis Hopper-Jesus thing), so I did what he said. Instantly, my shoulders felt lighter and my chest opened up, allowing me to take deeper breaths. From taking his advice, I gained renewed energy.
As much as I enjoy the solitude of running, I needed this human interaction to help me improve. I may have figured it out eventually, but the change made such a difference in my running experience that I am very glad he found me when he did.
Renewal comes in many forms, and it's often unexpected. Sometimes, all that is required is a minor adjustment like moving your arms. However, it is possible to look at it another way. I'm reminded of a Zen Buddhist koan:
Two monks were arguing about a flag. One said: `The flag is moving.' The other said: `The wind is moving.'Rather than my arms being the most significant factor in causing the change, a Zen analysis might be that my mind's opening to the master's advice is what made the difference.
The sixth patriarch happened to be passing by. He told them: `Not the wind, not the flag; mind is moving.'
We have to empty ourselves a little in order to receive the words of someone else, but that's a good thing. We know from the Tao Te Ching that it is the emptiness inside that makes the pot useful.
Here's a poem about emptiness, and what it means to hold it, by Jane Hirschfeld:
| "A Hand" A hand is not four fingers and a thumb. Nor is it palm and knuckles, not ligaments or the fat's yellow pillow, not tendons, star of the wristbone, meander of veins. A hand is not the thick thatch of its lines with their infinite dramas, nor what it has written, not on the page, not on the ecstatic body. Nor is the hand its meadows of holding, of shaping— not sponge of rising yeast-bread, not rotor pin's smoothness, not ink. The maple's green hands do not cup the proliferant rain. What empties itself falls into the place that is open. A hand turned upward holds only a single, transparent question. Unanswerable, humming like bees, it rises, swarms, departs. | ||||
| --Jane Hirschfeld | ||||
Monday, August 1, 2011
Runner's Prayer
If you don't feel like reading my longer posts (sometimes I don't :) ), I am also going to be offering short Runner's Prayers from time to time, when I find a good one. Spontaneous is the key word here. I'm not going to try too hard!
Speaking of.... here's a good one:
Spontaneous me, Nature,
The loving day, the mounting sun
-Walt Whitman
Speaking of.... here's a good one:
Spontaneous me, Nature,
The loving day, the mounting sun
-Walt Whitman
The Root of the Light
Meditation for Tuesday, August 2: Ask for mercy.
In thinking about what to write tonight, a phrase from Christian liturgy came to my mind: Kyrie Eleison. It is Greek for "Lord, have mercy," and it reminds me of the opening of almost every chapter of the Quran, which reads, "In the name of Allah, the Merciful, the Compassionate."
I have noticed sometimes when running that my heaviest burdens come to the forefront of my mind. Perhaps it is because I am alone with myself that I begin to think about things I regret having done, including times I have not been emotionally present with loved ones and times I have lashed out in anger.
To be able to run with a free mind and spirit, we may have to be willing to ask for mercy from those we have caused to suffer.
Although it is not in my own religious tradition, I find the Kyrie to be very moving. The opening lines hearken to God the Mystery, with a simple petition:
Lord, King and Father unbegotten, True Essence of the Godhead,
have mercy on us.
Lord, Fount of light and Creator of all things,
have mercy on us.
I appreciate the reference to God in this prayer as the Fount of Light. The petitioner, in chanting the prayer, is beckoning the Light to come near.
To expand on this idea from another tradition, the Tao Te Ching offers that,
The heavy is the root of the light.
The literal meaning of this line is that heavy and light are opposites necessary for one another. But I prefer a more figurative reading: when we become aware of our need for mercy, we may be in a dark place, but that awareness makes us as capable as a root is generative. In that place, we are ready to grow with renewed, inner light.
May you have joy on your run tomorrow, in the knowledge that within you is the root of the Light, and that you are deeply loved.
In thinking about what to write tonight, a phrase from Christian liturgy came to my mind: Kyrie Eleison. It is Greek for "Lord, have mercy," and it reminds me of the opening of almost every chapter of the Quran, which reads, "In the name of Allah, the Merciful, the Compassionate."
I have noticed sometimes when running that my heaviest burdens come to the forefront of my mind. Perhaps it is because I am alone with myself that I begin to think about things I regret having done, including times I have not been emotionally present with loved ones and times I have lashed out in anger.
To be able to run with a free mind and spirit, we may have to be willing to ask for mercy from those we have caused to suffer.
Although it is not in my own religious tradition, I find the Kyrie to be very moving. The opening lines hearken to God the Mystery, with a simple petition:
Lord, King and Father unbegotten, True Essence of the Godhead,
have mercy on us.
Lord, Fount of light and Creator of all things,
have mercy on us.
I appreciate the reference to God in this prayer as the Fount of Light. The petitioner, in chanting the prayer, is beckoning the Light to come near.
To expand on this idea from another tradition, the Tao Te Ching offers that,
The heavy is the root of the light.
The literal meaning of this line is that heavy and light are opposites necessary for one another. But I prefer a more figurative reading: when we become aware of our need for mercy, we may be in a dark place, but that awareness makes us as capable as a root is generative. In that place, we are ready to grow with renewed, inner light.
May you have joy on your run tomorrow, in the knowledge that within you is the root of the Light, and that you are deeply loved.
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