Out of the mouths of babes

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It’s easy to think that the goal is to be happy.

Today in church, there was the kind of prayer moment where the minister asked people to speak their prayer requests aloud. People spoke out prayer requests for sick loved ones, our country, the homeless, prisoners, and the like. Prayers for health, happiness, freedom, justice. Prayers that we will be freed from sadness and suffering and those around us will be freed from sadness and suffering.

And then a young boy asked for this, “I pray that those of us who are happy can have some sadness so that we know how to help those that are sad.”

It’s easy to think that the goal is to be happy. Somehow that boy knew there is an even more profound goal.

(To comment click on the header of this post “Out of the mouths of babes”)

What will I be?

The following is taken from Ram Dass with the pronouns changed:

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At some point you learn to have less certainty about what the future holds, of who you’ll be when you grow up, or how it will all come out.

Fifty years old

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Because, when I look at my life now, there is nothing - 25 years ago, 30 years ago …. everything I thought about who I was and how it would come out has no similarity at all to the way it is.

Three years old

The who I am now hardly recognizes the who that was … who I am now feels great compassion for who she was then.

Seventeen years old

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I doubt if we’d be much of friends. We would have very little business with one another. She would be very judging of me, which would be very poignant.

Me as a young mother 22 years old

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So, I have learned, since i have gone through many transformations of who I know myself to be and how it is, that I must assume that those will continue. There is no reason to assume they won’t, although they may not. Because I can’t know that.

Thirty years old

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So, I’m not planning to continue to be who I am forever. It will keep changing.

Forty years old

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In the moment

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Maybe it’s just semantics, but it seems that when people say they are living for the moment, there may be regrets or a hangover in their future.

It seems to me there’s a difference between IN the moment and FOR the moment.

Living FOR the moment - is just doing whatever the hell you feel like with no regard to the consequences. Probably not conscious.

Living IN the moment - is paying attention to what is going on in this moment. Being present. Conscious.

Maybe it’s just semantics, but it seems that when people say they are living for the moment, there may be regrets or a hangover in their future.

To comment, click on the header of this post “In the Moment”



Your body is the temple

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Is it possible that when the Bible says “your body is the temple of the holy spirit”, it is not saying that we should leave, suppress, and repress the body and find holiness in the mind; but rather go into the body to find god

A temple has historically been a place that cultures have set apart as sacred. A place to go to commune with the Divine. A place to meditate, to rest, to lay down burdens and to worship the source of life, to listen to words of peace and love, a place to heal and to restore the soul.

In the New Testament book of Corinthians, embedded in a paragraph about sexual immorality is this:

Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.

When I was growing up in church, that verse was always used to shame me into right behavior. Don’t do bad things with your body or you will pollute the temple of God.

Blah, blah.

When I did a google search for a picture or a meme for this post, I typed in “your body is a temple”, almost all of the results that came up were about purity, or taking care of the body:

“your body is a temple, not a visitor’s center”

“your body is a temple, keep it pure and clean for the soul to reside in”

“your body is a temple, take good care of it”

“your body is a temple, honor it”

Maybe there’s something more interesting here than just the enforcement of purity or the promotion of clean living.

Maybe there are things that are in sacred writings that are profound in ways that the author had little idea of. Not just the author, but people in general. It’s easy for religion to get so caught up in the business of fear, control or self improvement that they don’t dig any deeper.

Religion communicated to me that the mind and soul were the way to god and were separate from the body. The body would get me (and others) into trouble if it were not tamed, suppressed and silenced.

But what if the body as the temple of god is about understanding that our BODIES are the very place where we will find truth, healing and connection with the Divine.

What if we thought of our BODIES as:

Sacred.

A place to go to commune with God.

A place to meditate.

A place to lay down burdens and to worship the source of life.

A place to listen for words of peace and love.

A place to heal and to restore the soul.

For me, the focus was on using the mind to commune with the sacred. Thinking the right way and believing the right things. Prayer was about talking to God and thinking about God. Worship was about thinking about the majesty of God. Meditation was about thinking about scripture, or some other sacred thought. There was bible study, and reading the right books, and having the right beliefs. Church was about good songs and good sermons and the right theology and the correct practices.

I’ve used my body as a tool and a workhorse to accomplish things. I have pushed it hard. I have tried forcing it into a box that society has created for it. I’ve ignored it when it wanted to sleep. I have punished it when it ate too much. I have ignored its voice when it said “no” because I lacked the courage to speak on its behalf and use my voice to say “no”. I have said hateful things to it because it wasn’t as lean or as beautiful as I wanted it to be. I have hidden it away as it has gotten older and lumpier. I have used it as an object of consumption, commerce, and production.

I was taught to control the body but not how to connect to god through my body.

I’ve not used my body as a temple or a sacred space.

Is it possible that in the story about Jesus clearing the temple, there is a lesson about not using the body as a means of production and consumption and commerce? Is it possible to imagine that clearing the temple can teach us to reclaim our bodies as places of spirit rather than simply machines for the making of money and the building of empires? Or even worse, as objects to be feared, subdued and shamed?

I’ve been renewing my meditation practice these past couple of years. I don’t find rest in my mind or thoughts, on the contrary, I find rest through the body. Through the breath, the senses, the feel of the cushion beneath me, or the hum of the fan in the room.

Is it possible that when the Bible says “your body is the temple of the holy spirit”, it is not saying that we should leave, suppress, and repress the body and find holiness in the mind; but rather go INTO the body to find god. Walk into the temple and sit awhile. Rest with your beating heart, your breath going in and out and feel of your pulse.

To comment, click on the header of this post “Your Body is the Temple”

Life is the dancer

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it is quite spectacularly beautiful.

In his book "A New Earth", Eckhart Tolle says that life is the dancer and we are the dance.

Life, god, the ground of being goes on and on, bubbling up in various forms.  It has done so for millenia and will continue to do so long after I am gone.  I am just one of the little bubblings.

When my husband and I were in Iceland we walked along a beach that had little bubbling geothermal pockets here and there.  That heat, that energy, that life was underneath all along and everywhere and just burst forth unexpectedly here and there.  The Icelandic people made the best of it; hot pools to soak in, energy to heat their homes, we even saw them bake bread in the ground using the geothermal "bubblings" as ovens.

A lot of the time, I get it backward and start thinking that I am the dancer and life is the dance.  I am the poet and life is the poem.  I am the writer and my life is the story.  It's a lot of pressure to write the script of my life.

Turns out I write tragedy.

But life is the dancer.  It's dancing through me for a little while and dancing through you in a different form.  Life is the playwright playing out a scene in my life and a different one in yours.  Life is the poet writing a poem through me and another through you.

And life, love, God, the universe  - whatever you name it - writes a much more beautiful story than I do.  Overall, it's a story of life, diversity, beauty, and wonder.  Have you ever just looked at nature and thought how amazing it all is?  The colors?  The weirdness?  The wonder of it all?   Oh, sure, it has its moments of tragedy, pain and death, but over the course of the entire show, it is quite spectacularly beautiful.

For we are God’s masterpiece, his work of art, her dance, his story, her poem. God has written us anew through using the word that was there from the beginning, so we can be the dance he planned to dance through us long ago.  Ephesians 2:10  (Paraphrase mine) 

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All philosophical

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My heart rises in my throat and I think I might just choke on the sadness of it.

These past months I’ve waxed philosophical about death and how it’s bound up in life.

I’ve thought about evil and how it’s bound up in good.

I’ve stood with my arms firmly planted on my hips in the face of suffering and declared that it’s often just a story I am telling myself and I could tell a different one.

I’ve tried to be all zen about the mess of life, and the tragedy of watching my parents pass away in front of my eyes, little by little, bit by bit.

Most of the time, I’ve been dry-eyed.

All cerebral and philosophical.

And then I read a story about a mother dolphin in New Zealand who is grieving over her stillborn baby and is carrying the body of a her dead calf on her back through the waters  for days and days unable to let it go.

And my heart rises in my throat and I think I might just choke on the sadness of it. That mother dolphin. Who can’t get all philosophical about her suffering. All she can do is experience it. And she carries it for days and days.

I’m haunted by her and I can’t breathe. So I push her away because I’m not as courageous as she is. I can’t hold on to it like she can. I have to let it slip into the depths so that I don’t.

https://people.com/pets/mourning-mother-dolphin-carries-dead-baby-for-days/


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The feast of death

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There is no feast without death and destruction.

Behind every feast is a great deal of violence. Things are killed, pulled and plucked, sliced and smashed. Heat is applied.

If you were the potato as it sat in the oven, you would not celebrate the feast that is about to occur.

It’s a simplistic parallel, but life is the same. There is no feast without death and destruction. Sometimes we’re the soil, sometimes the potato and sometimes we are the feaster.

To comment, click on the header of this post “The Feast of Death”



REST

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The body is our most reliable prophet

I can’t believe it’s been over two months since I posted anything! I intended to take a break for the holidays and it turned into something more.

My son fell ill over the holidays and sitting with him in the ER over New Years Eve, I gave him a little talk about how the body is our most reliable prophet. It will tell us to rest when our minds tell us that hard work is the answer. It will say “no” when we can’t bring our mouths to say it. It will tell us to sit when we have been standing too long or to stand when we’ve been chained to our desk. It will tell us to quit eating or drinking, or to eat or drink more.

If we listen.

Most of us have told our bodies to shut up. Most of us plug our ears and turn away.

The body may scream even louder

STOP!

BREATHE!

REST!

The talk I gave my son was as much for me as for him. It’s easy for me to drive myself. Work, produce, work even more. The opportunities are always there. Career, taking care of my parents, taking care of my kids, home improvement projects, self improvement projects. Blogging.

So, for a change, I listened to my body and rested instead of writing.

Now I’m back.