mindfulness, staying real, trusting what is, serenity: they're all connected...

The humidity has broken, the temperature is mild, and the vegetables and flowers are showing off at Chez Lumsdemott. After tending to the lawn and weeding a bit around the pumpkins, its time for some quiet reflection. As I was cutting the grass, a thought from Kelly Deutsch at Contemplative Outreach kept popping up for consideration:

... the way I understand mysticism is being deeply and utterly human. Life becomes radically simplified. There's no more defending, justifying, forcing. Everything just... is! That is, of course, until your ego wakes up from its coma and starts throwing a fit. And then we chuckle a bit and try to sedate it, knowing we will always be learning.

Trusting, accepting, embracing and exploring that everything just "is" rings true to me. It seems right in my ripening sense of Jesus, it feels congruous with my experience of quiet prayer, and it fits with my hunch that all authentic spiritual traditions simply invite us to be at peace with reality. It is a way of being truly at peace with the moment even while knowing there is more peace to be shared. The 12th century mystic and Dominican priest, Meister Eckhart, used to teach that "Reality is the will of God. It can always be better, but we must start with what is real." I have long trusted that this was an early affirmation of the wisdom the 12 Step movement honored in their prayer: God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference. 

Such is the path to the rest and comfort Jesus promises when he tells us: Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. Eugene Peterson rephrases this for contemporary souls like this: Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.

Frederick Buechner has given much attention to this mystical wisdom, too when he writes:

Stop trying to protect, to rescue, to judge, to manage the lives around you . . . remember that the lives of others are not your business. They are their business. They are God’s business . . . even your own life is not your business. It also is God’s business. Leave it to God. It is an astonishing thought. It can become a life-transforming thought . . . unclench the fists of your spirit and take it easy . . . What deadens us most to God’s presence within us, I think, is the inner dialogue that we are continuously engaged in with ourselves, the endless chatter of human thought. I suspect that there is nothing more crucial to true spiritual comfort . . . than being able from time to time to stop that chatter . . . ”

He continues saying: Be merciful to yourself, stop fighting yourself quite so much. Maybe what you are asking of yourself, what you're driving yourself to do or to be, what you put a gun to your own back to make yourself do, is something at this point you needn't have to think about doing. So, think back at the end of the day to the wars you're involved in. How are they going? (For) it seems to me almost before the Bible says anything else, it is saying that—how important it is to be alive and to pay attention to being alive, pay attention to each other, pay attention to God as he moves and as he speaks. Pay attention to where life or God has tried to take you.”

Buddhists call it mindfulness. And even though the marketplace has rendered the practice of an awakened, grounded presence into the latest gimmick to be bought and sold for a quick buck before tossing it into the dustbin of history, it remains true. That's why I need a host of reminders to stay in touch with what is real. There are so many external distractions spinning all around me to say nothing of my own wounds. Damn, but there are times when I easily become lost within my past or anxious about a future that will probably never come to pass. Even in the midst of conflicts with those I love I can slip backwards or forwards in time instead of staying real and tender in the moment. Or else I'll end up muttering inside my head for days about resentments rather than simply standing in the hot shower to enjoy getting clean. 

I heard a word of oblique encouragement earlier today in way the poet, Anita Pulier, puts it in her, "Playing Along."

The orchid arrived
swaddled in celebratory paper,
two curved stems balletically
balancing six improbable
naked blooms.

I, no youngster,
knew this might not end well.

Still, I played along,
placed the shameless display
near a gritty window,
watered the mossy base,
allowed sunlight
to ooze through the slats
of a dusty venetian blind,
invited light to invade
helter-skelter, fearlessly
nurturing extraordinary beauty
despite the lousy odds.

Mindfulness. Staying real. Trusting what is. Serenity. They're all connected. "No more defending, justifying, forcing." Well, that's my prayer. I believe, I believe, Lord, help my unbelief.