Revelation

Summer and the Herme Moon

Friday gratefuls: Rebecca. Diane. Mussar. God is Here. Metaphors. Revelation. That Bull Elk, the face of God? Speaking to me of the world I do not know, but in which I live. Ruth and Mia. Introversion. On display last night and this morning. Slept long. More Rain and Hail. Computer Chip with built-in human brain cells. !!? Mountain life. Cool while the World burns.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Revelation to us, not the history of theirs

One brief shining: Convergence beginning to happen for me after a lifetime of religious and spiritual orienteering revelation it may all come down to revelation the revealing of the sacred in this life in my presence and palpable to me.

 

Whee! Heading down the slide toward a big splash in the World Ocean of consciousness. Or, the Waters of the Collective Unconscious. Or, the inner cathedral. Anyhow. In the book God is Here by Tobia Spitzer we’re discussing metaphors for God. Her contention being that we’ve hung on to a few metaphors-King, Judge, Warrior-and neglected or ignored many others all found in Torah. God as Fire that does not consume, God as pillar of Smoke, God as living Water, God as Whirlwind, God as Malakh or messenger, Angel to name a few. Also Spitzer recounts recent work in cognitive linguistics that discusses how language shapes our world and therefore how the metaphors we use determine what we can see, hear, taste, touch, and feel. Let alone consider. Which is a secondary or mediated process after sensory input.

Not sure that the word God is worth rehabilitating, but I’m finding the thought process while engaged in this conversation fascinating. Part of Spitzer’s point is that we often thrown out the Torah with the King/Judge/Warrior bath water. So we turn away from understanding God because we don’t like those metaphors, but that there are many others perhaps more compelling. God as lover for instance in the Song of Songs. Or God as the still small voice. Or God as Justice.

Here’s what keeps buzzing through my head though. Why do we insist on trying to fill up the metaphor God with new wine, putting new wine in an old wineskin which means it’s likely to burst?

Reminded me of Emerson’s line in his Introduction to Nature: “…(why should we not have) a religion of revelation to us, not the history of theirs.” This pushed me to what I now consider the essence of this interesting conversation. How do we know revelation when we see it?

In other words, by dropping away from the Torah and/or the New Testament, too, we have also dropped away from considering how Emerson’s dream might come true: a religion of revelation to us, because we’ve rejected the history of their revelations as past tense, never to be repeated.

Well, that has to be wrong. If we can accept that their revelations were real and profound, as centuries and millennia of folks like us have found them to be, then there must be equivalent experiences available to us right now. Of course you can deny the whole notion of the sacred or the holy or the divine, then there’s nothing more to consider. However, if you have even a small inkling that there is more in this world than is dreamt of in your philosophy… Well.

What experiences might we have that conjure Rudolf Otto’s definition of the holy:

“the transcendent [the holy]) appears as a mysterium tremendum et fascinans—that is, a mystery before which humanity both trembles and is fascinated, is both repelled and attracted. Thus, [God] sic can appear both as wrathful or awe-inspiring, on the one hand, and as gracious and lovable, on the other.”

I have these experiences. As recently as this week. When thinking about Otto’s work and the concept of using new metaphors for God, I can easily call to mind the Elk Bull observing me from the Forest in a driving Rain. That was the face of the Holy, I’m sure of it. Holiness as Wildness. Holiness as the life of the other, the non-human. Holiness as a shock, an amazement. But here’s where I diverge from Spitzer’s work. Why call that God? Why not say it was a window, a moment of seeing into the numinous, a sacred moment which can inform my life long after the experience. Why not say the Holy is beyond our understanding, but accessible to our senses. Yes, by all means let’s use metaphor to describe it but do they have to point back to the Middle Eastern notion of a God? No. I say no.

On the other hand. Yes. Let’s look to Torah to the New Testament for clues about how experience revelation. Let’s examine and learn from all the metaphors for God. Without having to use God as a reference point. Can we experience the Holy, the Sacred in Fire? Yes. In Water? Yes. In a Tornado? Yes. Does that mean there’s an entity which ties all these experiences together in a quasi anthropomorphic whole? No. Not at all. It means rather the world as we know it is only a sliver of the whole, a whole filled with wonders and treasures we can find. But only if we choose to see what we’re looking at.

Changes

Summer and the Herme Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Rebecca. Mussar. Hail at 5:30 AM. 48 degrees. Living at altitude. That Bull Elk Tuesday night. Wildness. Wild neighbors. Fox. Moose. Marmot. Robin. Magpie. Abert’s Squirrel. Red Squirrel. Ravens. Crows. Lodgepoles. Aspen. Various Grasses. Judaism. Sadness. Acting Class. Herme. Taking shape. Writing. Creating a short play.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Wildness

One brief shining: Wham wham wham woke me up as Hail pounded against my bedroom window followed by driven Rain Thunder and Lightning all the old familiar sounds from my Midwestern days not so welcome in the Arapaho National Forest with all its Lodgepole Pines.

 

Breakfast with Dick Arnold, my roommate in Israel. He says the Tomatoes in Israel are the best anywhere. Something about irrigation with slightly salinated water and the Tomatoes compensating by producing more sugars. Looking forward to that. Israeli restaurants divide up by dairy or meat. He’s lactose intolerant so as long as he’s in the right restaurant, he can eat anything. Handy. Kosher, I’m sure. Dick was a therapist specializing in kids and abused women.

Talked to him about Ruth a bit. He gave me a tip. When I told him I felt sad about her situation, he said it might be empathetic sadness. In other words a feeling I’m getting from her, too. Might help guide me when I’m with her. He said something else that surprised me, but made sense. After that all caregiving, you’ve been opened up. I understood what he meant immediately. I knew I’d changed over the last few years but I thought it was just aging. Not only that. A welcome opening of my heart.

 

Came back from breakfast, read some more from Cuming’s Korea’s Place in the Sun, felt sleepy and took a long nap. Over to Jackie’s for a hair cut. The estrogen was flowing. Jackie, I said, you run a friends central salon. Friends, mostly women, stop by, give her a hug and kiss. Same for Rhonda. A warm, loving space. We could use more of them. And. My hair looks great.

 

Thinking about Herme, the short play. Four characters: Herme, Gaius Ovidius, the Seeker, Cold Mountain. I have Herme and Cold Mountain down. I need to work on Gaius and the Seeker. That is, I have to create their characters as distinct from Herme and Cold Mountain. Not only voice, but posture, attitude. Guess that’s why they call it acting. According to Meisner, I have to find a truthful way to be them in an imaginary situation. I also have to write more dialogue, edit some of what I’ve got. The challenge is real, but I’m getting there.

Feel like I’ve found a strong ending by changing the way the last poem will be read. In the voice and character of the Seeker. Signalling that she has joined Herme and Cold Mountain. Joan came up with the idea that Herme and Cold Mountain are the same. I liked that idea and I’m using it. Tal has helped me see how I need to shape the characters and the dramatic arc. I like the collaboration.

My first time writing a play and I find the help supportive. Mostly. I’m a little defensive. Hey, that’s my work we’re talking about. Maybe it’s the changed nature of my nature that Dick helped me see. Allowing help in.

See the Wildness

Summer and the Herme Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Dick and Ellen. Ann. Gracie. Lid. Joan. Tal. Deb. Abby. Alan. Those two Elk Bulls. Experiencing a cool summer in a heating World. The World Ocean. Mountains. Acting. Writing. Herme. Gaius Ovidius. The Seeker. Herme and Cold Mountain. Judaism. CBE. The synagogue. Lightning. Rain. Wabi Sabi. Ichi-go, ichi-e. Cold Water. Coffee.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Bull Elks

One brief shining: Lightning crashed down from the night Sky, Rain poured on my windshield as I drove the curves and increasing altitude back home from acting class, a twelve point Bull Elk looked at me from the side of the road near Maxwell Falls his face and antlers framed by Lodgepole Pines.

 

Another evening of Mountain magic. During acting class Alan had moved us outside to the amphitheater for his piece on aging. While he read Dylan Thomas’ Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, a twelve point Bull Elk wandered near the Grandmother Tree eating the luxuriant Grass occasioned by the persistent Rains we’ve had. He still had his Velvet. Alan went on reading. The Bull went on munching, collecting energy from the Great Sol. Thunder rumbled in the background, a cool Breeze came ahead of it. When Alan finished, the Bull had wandered on.

CBE occupies a plot of land not far from the large Elk Meadow Park, the first effort of the Mountain Land Trust many years ago. They bought up all the land east of the Mountains behind the synagogue and west of Hwy 74  for some miles to the north, put it into a permanent land trust to keep the Meadow wild. Especially in the Fall harems of Elk come through the Meadow, stopping to rest there.

The wildness of these magnificent Animals shows in their confidence around humans. They neither approach us nor steer away from us. We are in their domain, but of it in a manner similar to the marmot, the fox, and the rabbit. If the Elk wish to cross the highway, they cross the highway. If they want to lie down for a while in your front yard or come to my back yard and eat my dandelions, they do it. Moose are the same. Healthy Elk and Moose can defend themselves against predators so they have no reason to fear.

All very sweet

Driving home after class though. A Thunderstorm roiled, Lightning lit up the night sky. A heavy Rain fell cooling the air. I had passed Upper Maxwell Falls and begun the final climb toward the top of Shadow Mountain. When. I looked to the left. Slowed down. There. Right at the edge of the road, but in the Forest stood another Bull Elk, equal in size and rack to the one I’d seen earlier in the evening. He looked at me and I looked at him. A guardian of the Forest wildness. Not my friend, not my family. A wild neighbor checking up on a domesticated neighbor as he drove by.

I’m not saying this well. Imagine yourself on a black night driving through the Rain high up in the Mountains. You see faintly illuminated by your headlights a large Bull Elk standing still, watching as you pass. A Mountain Spirit, rarely seen, offers you a chance to see. See the wildness all around you gathered into the eyes and Antlers of one Animal.

 

 

 

The desiderata trap

Summer and the Herme Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Meds. Marina Harris. Ana. A clean house. Converting. Reconstructing. Reimagining. Paganism. The whole World in our hands. Kwangju. Osan. Incheon. Seoul. Murdoch. Seoah. My son. Itaewon. The DMZ. History. Geological time. Mountains. Their time. Humans, our time. Great Sol. Sukkot. Tu B’shvat. Simcha Torah. Shavuot. Purim. Rosh Hashanah. Yom Kippur. Holidays. Holy Days. Ordinary Holy Days. Every day. Spacetime. Eternity. Now.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Torah

One brief shining: Using morning energy today I will rehang my Chinese painting bought in Beijing, fight down the ghost bill haunting my mail box since late last year, check on flight information for Korea, get copies made of house keys, unlock my phone, find out about using credit and debit cards while on the road but not until I pour milk in my big pyrex bowl, add oatmeal peanut butter butter sugar, cook it and pour in blueberries, drink coffee, and read about the Kwangju rebellion. First things first.

 

Tuesday is a utility day. No workout. I can focus on the desiderata of my life. In my gratefuls a bit back I talked about the desiderata trap. Here’s what I meant. There’s always a problem bill I want out of my hair, a repair I need to get done, finishing a project like Herme, going to plays or music or museums or zoos, figuring out how to get more money, better hair, a better figure, a new career, planning a trip. Things I need or want that take time. Require me to turn my attention from the now and toward the future. When one is done, another pops up. Like whack a mole. This is the trap. We never finish desiring, wanting, projecting need onto the go board of our life. To use another rodent metaphor the hamster wheel never stops turning.

What if we gave ourselves a day a week when desiderata were off the table. Nothing to accomplish. A time to reflect, read, enjoy family, friends, self. What if we had, say, a sabbath? A day to go deeper into the ordinary. No cooking. No work. No planning. Has always sounded good to me, but I’ve never put it into practice. A friend of Tom’s, a high powered business attorney, said to me, “I tell my clients I’m available 24/6.”

Part of my conversion will be about picking up certain Jewish rituals that I’ve only observed slightly or when Kate was alive. The sabbath is one I look forward to implementing. Not yet. I’m not ready, but I will be. Lighting the candles, saying the prayers, observing the full day, marking its end with the havdalah ritual. Learning how to slow way down. To break away from the desiderata. An anticipation of the time when everyday will be a sabbath day. When neither desiring nor wanting will have any place.

So, yes, I will change my life in certain ways. And I look forward to doing that.

This Old Man’s Life

Summer and the Summer Moon Above

Monday gratefuls: Leo. Still here. Luke. Tal. Sagittarius Ponderosa. Herme. Ann. Parchment paper. Gracie. Korea. Becoming a Jew. A pilgrim life. Seeking truth in the moment. Life. Great Sol. Herme. Cold Mountain. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Herman Melville. Hawthorne. William Cullen Bryant. Emerson. Whitman. Dickinson. Frost. Stevens. Oliver. Rumpelstiltskin. Knickerbockers. Rip Van Winkle. Ravens. Corvids. Crows. Magpies. Poe. The American Renaissance. Thoreau. Unitarians and Universalists. Christians.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: American literature

One brief shining: I have three cast iron pans big skillet, little skillet, and a griddle on which I love to cook breakfast with a pat of butter sizzling, throw on sliced potatoes, a couple of eggs, maybe some olives stuffed with garlic if I’m feeling fancy a six on the induction cooktop until the potatoes brown nicely and the eggs firm up, slide them off onto my plate for a preworkout meal.

 

Not sure how I’ve done it but my days have begun to feel full, no holes like those afternoon doldrums of the last few months. As I prefer it. Part of it? Writing Herme. Reading Korean history. But I suspect also the gradual increase of my thyroid meds bringing me closer to where I need to be. I pay attention to how I live my life, both conscious and unconscious actions during the day, over time. Try to understand what drives me. Especially when a disturbance in the force knocks me off course.

Working out plays a significant role in my sense of well-being. As a mood lifter, which it always is, but also as a sign of self care. That I’m doing what I can for my health. It becomes a floor to everything else for that week. Oh, yeah. I worked out. Feels good on a physical and psychic level.

Reading, too. Serious reading. Doesn’t have to be for an enthusiasm, but it helps if it is. A workout for the mind. Right now serious reading includes research for Herme, Korean history, reading for conversion, reading for my Israel trip, going for a deep understanding of the American far right and our current political situation, mussar. When I’m keeping my intellect sharp, I feel good.

Taking classes. Right now acting class. Mussar. MVP. Various CBE opportunities. But the Korean, too. And I want to get back to calculus at some point. Challenging my overall skill sets makes me feel good. I still have traction, not just following familiar ruts. I’ve also got sumi-e and painting. Not trying to master any of these, going for the best I can do. Enough. Maybe they’re hobbies?

Cooking. Maybe breakfast 3 to 5 times a week. A full evening meal 2 to 3 times. Healthy snacks. Trying to stay close to the Mediterranean lane. Sometimes right by it, sometimes straying into the past. But taking care of myself. Laundry and picking up around the house. Book piles don’t count. Having the house cleaned. Having Vince come over and mow, do other outside chores. Paying bills. Keeping up with my docs and meds.

Planning travel. Offers some interesting changes to look forward to. Leaving home. Coming back.

Meals out with friends and family. Zoom connections on a regular basis with those faraway. Showing up.

Good sleep hygiene. Maintaining 7 to 9 hours of sleep a night.

There’s also a category of activity I’ll call inner work. Not prayer nor meditation. Though it can be either or both at times. Mostly it’s about being kind to myself, treating myself with compassion. Even my inner critic. There, there. I know how you can be, but look how far we’ve come anyhow. Accepting my own death. My own limits. Shrugging off moods if they get too grippy. Or leaning into them, unmasking the boogiemans my psyche insists on creating on occasion.

Perhaps I’ll find a way to encourage the burning away of all of these that aren’t love. As I still believe I did accidentally discover the purpose of life. Somebody had to. Why not me?

 

 

 

 

 

Bonus Post on Paganism and Judaism

Summer and the sliver Summer Moon Above

 

From the beginning of my turn toward paganism I identified it as an ur-religion. That is, one all of us could embrace even if we layered on top of it another tradition like Buddhism, Christianity, Zoroastrianism, Judaism.

I’m still there. Why? My paganism locates the sacred, the holy, the divine in the stuff within me and around me. That is. The Lodgepole. Leo sleeping beside me on the rug. My lev. The Soil beneath me and the Rock beneath it and the core of the Earth beneath that. The Robin and the Magpie. The Fly and the Katydid. The Morel and the Candensis. The Worm and the Snake. The Stream flowing and the Pond resting. Beavers and Marmots. Mountain Lions and Bears. The Microbiome in my gut. The Mitochrondia in our Cells. Our Galaxy. Those Galaxies. Dark Matter. Multi-verse Worlds.

I believe this non-dogmatic, non-sectarian sort of paganism crucial to caring for our Planet as we go through the fiery apocalypse of Climate change. And, it is not in conflict in any way with my Judaism which insists on a unitary view of all things. All things contain a shard of ohr, or holy light, holy energy. All things.

I choose Judaism for my human and humane interactions. I choose paganism to undergird and focus attention on the World which holds us like a Bird’s nest holds fragile Eggs.

 

Korea and Reading

Summer and the Summer Moon Above

Sunday gratefuls: Leo. Lying here beside me. Luke out having fun. Books. Oh, did I mention books? Korean history. Seoah. Murdoch. My son. Working hard. Korean schools. American schools. Having a dog in the house. Korea. The Korean civil war. The armistice. Kim Il Sung. Kim Jong Il. Kim Jong Un. Presidents in South Korea. Chaebol. Zaibatsu. Samsung. LCD. Hyundai. Different ways of organizing economies. And nations. Trump’s legal trouble. The House G.O.P. The Extremes. Showing us a path to nowhere.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Knowledge

One brief shining: Leo lies here on the green rug with Cypress Trees, I write this blog letting my fingertips move over my split keyboard, all while a bright blue Colorado Sky backdrops Black Mountain its Lodgepoles and Aspens, there is no sound except the slight click of the keys.

 

More reading in Cuming’s history of Korea. Two chapters on the Korean civil war. He believes we should have let them fight it out, burned out the divisions and reordered their culture. As we had to. As Vietnam had to. Instead we put in amber the tensions and conflicts present after the Japanese Occupation ended. If I read Cuming’s account correctly, the North would have won the civil war, probably easily without us. Even with our involvement they came close. Then Koreans themselves would have had to sort out a new political order. Instead we have my son and his colleagues still in country, maintaining a very fragile and often fraught peace.

It was a time of big power conflicts, especially the USSR and the US. The architects of the idea of containment Dean Rusk, George Kennan, and Paul Nitze influenced the U.S. role in the war. Containing the Soviets, not China.

Korea is more than you know. Much more than I knew.

 

Realizing I privilege reading over most other activities. If I’m on a topic, an enthusiasm, I’ll sometimes read for hours at a whack. For days on end. Cup of coffee at hand. Now with my reading glasses perched on my nose. When I get tired, as I did yesterday, I watched a TV program, a K-drama just to stay in the the mind-world and went back to Cuming’s afterward. I’m neither a fast nor slow reader, I adjust my pace to the material. If it’s difficult, I’m slower. In the middle, as history usually is, I go a bit faster. With fiction I gallop.

Right now, as you can tell, I’m on Korea. When I finish Cumings, I’ll start another, the Two Koreas. Though. I might go back and reread the earlier chapters in Cumings. His long synopsis of Korean history before the late 19th century fascinated me since it contained so much that was new. For me.

Also, I’m building a conversion library. I already have a lot of books on Judaism, but I’m going to organize the ones I need for my study and put them up here in the home office. Had to order others. Looking forward to that reading, too.

 

The Hermit Kingdom

Summer and the Summer Moon Above

Saturday gratefuls: Leo coming up for the night. Fruit salad. Sleep. Good sleep. Korean history. Changing my view of northern east Asia. First full draft of Herme complete. For the acting class. Going to work with it today. Finding my sweet spot with exercise, reading, eating out with friends. A full life. Brother Mark and his rental car. The trap of desiderata. Opening myself further. Living on Shadow Mountain. In my mostly finished home. All the Creeks, Streams, Rivulets, Ponds, Marshes of the Mountains

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Change

One brief shining: A therapist lives in my finger tips ready to take on any inner problem dice it up, spread it out on the page for consideration and evaluation then continue on through a resolution that often ripples through my lev in a way I can feel in my chest, the issue put in a new context, revealed as an old pattern, or tucked away behind my ear as a learning to keep close.

 

Went part way down the hill to Morrison. The Cow. Alan and I met there for breakfast. It was a Friday, but the damned place was so busy. We had to wait twenty minutes. The closest sort of Mountain town to Denver Morrison sits right next to the famous Red Rocks Amphitheater. Downtown has plenty of places to hoover up tourist cash. The Cow among them. Apparently the only breakfast place though. Which makes sense since Red Rocks Concerts are evening affairs.

Alan’s first question when I told him about my planned conversion? When’s your bar mitzvah? Hadn’t thought about that. Maybe around my birthday next year?

 

Spent most of yesterday reading in a one volume history of Korea, Korea’s Place in the Sun by Bruce Cumings. I’m about halfway through and finding it fascinating. He focuses on contemporary Korea, but had to give an overview of earlier Korean history to put this time period in context. I’ve learned so many new things. How little I know about Asian history for one. I mean I knew I didn’t know much but the vast field of my ignorance has never been more obvious. It matters, too. Not my ignorance specifically but the general ignorance of Americans about Asia and its long, long history.

Up until the end of the nineteenth century Korea was the little brother to China. Korea’s king went to the Emperor of China for investiture and the two nations had cordial relationships, including significant trade. But. China took no role in Korea’s internal affairs nor its external affairs except to serve as a deterrent to outside invaders. Korea kept itself to itself, repelling foreigners with force. That’s how it came to have the title the Hermit Kingdom.

Did you know we had a military government in Korea from 1945 to 1948, immediately following the collapse of its Japanese occupation? Or, that the communists who were influential in the North were Russians, not Chinese? I didn’t. Only a hint of the insights and new facts I’ve gained.

Conversion

Summer and the Summer Moon Above

Friday gratefuls: Rabbi Jamie. Ann. Judaism. A ritual in Jerusalem. Mussar. God is Here. Metaphor. Constructing a life. Diane. Zoom. Sanctuary. The Ancient Brothers. Calming down. Learning. Reading. The lev. The tao. Chi. Chuang-tzu. Lao-tzu. Korea. Asia. My son and his wife. Taipei. The National Gallery. Art. A missing part of my life. Ruby. Her ongoingness. Kate, her memory a sweet blessing. Kep and Rigel, too.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Burning through everything but love

One brief shining: The morning here on Shadow Mountain the bright blue Sky, Great Sol warming Lodgepoles and Aspens, a Dog barks a few houses away, a can of Mineral Water nearby, my mind slows down, focuses, tells my fingers what to write.

 

Pushed the conversion boat away from the pier yesterday. Rabbi Jamie and I met. I’m going to do a ten session course of study with him and probably a 30 session course later in the year from the Rocky Mountain Rabbinical Association. I want a broader grounding in matters Jewish. I will however become a member of the tribe in Jerusalem.

Having already arranged a ritual of conversion for two others in Jerusalem Rabbi Jamie offered me a chance to participate in it. It has three parts. A rabbinic court consisting of three Reconstructionist Rabbi’s will interview me for a half an hour or so. If they approve, then a drop of blood is taken from the head of my penis! After that, immersion in a mikvah,  a ritual bath. After. I’m a Jew.

I will wear the kippah at services. When I go. Which is rarely because they’re at night. What I’m doing here is aligning my lev, my heart-mind, with my daily life. In my lev I converted a while ago. By that I mean I find the sacred manifest in the people among whom I live, and move, and have my becoming. Here in Colorado those people are Jews. I have a rabbi. And, a synagogue.

Not giving up my animism, my Great Wheel sensibilities, no. Adding to them a community, a people. And an ear to a 5,000 year old tradition focused on how to live a human, humane, and just life.

The tradition is that the Rabbi has to turn you away three times. Instead Rabbi Jamie has three reasons for not becoming a Jew and asks for a response to each of them. The first: other religions offer a reward after death. Judaism does not. So. Why go with Judaism? My response: Not sure about what happens after death, but I am sure it’s not a reward based moment. If there is a moment. The second: Anti-semitism. If you become a Jew, you step into the world of Jew hatred and become subject to it. My answer: I fight for those I love. Bring it on. The third: Anti-semitism from other Jews. Yes, converts will be treated differently by some. My response: That’s on them.

A final step for me before death. Anchoring myself to a people. Not an isolate, a member of a tribe. Though living alone in relative seclusion. As I want.

Look Round

Summer and the Summer Moon Above

Thursday gratefuls: Rabbi Jamie. Judaism. Rebecca. Alan. Leo coming up on Saturday. Luke. The balance of my inner life. The things that throw it off. Weather. Lab results. Anxiety. Self-doubt. The soul. And its compass. No, better. Its gyroscope. Still strong. Moderate fire risk. My home. A sanctuary. As are the Mountains, CBE, the Ancient Brothers. Books. The U.S.A. Korea’s Place in the Sun by Bruce Cumings. Reading. Thinking. Loving. Health. Sleep.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The soul’s gyroscope

One brief shining: The question is not will you get pushed around and down by the winds of change that blow through your inner life, of course you will, rather the question is have you created a strong gyroscope that knows how to keep you steady even when your inner balance shifts off course.

 

Gyroscope. “A gyroscope is a device used for measuring or maintaining orientation and angular velocity.” [ Ancient Greek γῦρος gŷros, “round” and σκοπέω skopéō, “to look”] wiki

My inner gyroscope became a strong stabilizer thanks to my now long ago meditation on my own corpse, occasioned by work with the Tibetan Buddhist mandala of Yamantaka that hangs in the Minneapolis Institute of Arts Tibetan gallery. Not the only aspect to my inner stability, no, but what I consider the most important.

Often characterized as the Tibetan Buddhist God of Death, Yamantaka really wants to aid you in coming to terms with your own death. This is very important in Tibetan Buddhism since the ability to be tranquil at the time of your death affects your possibilities for reincarnation. That is, what your next reincarnation will be.

I’m no Tibetan Buddhist but I recognized a good practice when I saw one and began a long period of meditating (visualizing and staying with the visualization) of my own corpse. It took a long while but I became comfortable with the image of my dead body. I’m sure the actual Tibetan practice is more involved and more subtle than what I did, but the effect for me was to gradually relieve me of any fear of death. It did not relieve me of wanting to live. To the contrary. Life became more vibrant, more precious.

I’ve now encountered three what I would count as good deaths: Kate’s, Judy’s, and Leslie’s. That is, they all accepted the truth of their final illness, saw it for what it was, and lived at peace in the final days before their deaths. That does not mean they did not want to live. Of course, they did. Leslie said when told of her liver cancer, “Well, that sucks.” And, it did. Judy Sherman said often, “This beast will kill me. But not today!” Kate was so calm (when she was not experiencing air hunger) that she could reach out to the respiratory therapist who had just stuck a long needle in her wrist and drawn blood from an artery there and say, “Kenton, good job with the ABD.” (arterial blood gas draw). She saw the outcome of this phase of her long illness and chose to die. As did both Leslie and Judy.

In the Greek sense of gyroscope they took a look round and saw things as they were, did not let denial cloud their judgments, knew this was not abnormal, rather so so normal. Their inner gyroscopes were strong, keeping them steady even at the end.

How is your inner gyroscope?