Onliness

“I am too alone in the world

but not alone enough 

to make each moment holy.”

                                                             Rilk 

I am too alone in the world——The darkness of isolation is spread over the world.  Many people experience it. We, in Western cultures, have a particularly bitter share of it. Loneliness is epidemic. How many deaths, suicides, personal doubts, and how much social emptiness, originates in cut-off and loneliness? As an old person, I have little doubt, that the quality of my life revolves around the amount of real social contact I have. The echoes of a lonely mind form the headwaters where a lot of painful craziness begins. So, the experience of loneliness is a precursor of mental health, an indicator of social status, and a difficult way to come to terms with being human.

Is it really any wonder that solitary confinement is seen as a form of punishment?  Loneliness eats at the well-being of we social animals. Too many of us have grown used to the undermining effects of loneliness. We are punished by our own lifestyle.

The Universe, like our neighborhoods, feels like a lonely place. There is a fragility, a laDck of confidence, a feeling of being misplaced, that comes with the corrosive silence of being alone.  It is hard to be fully, magnificently human, when one is impaled by involuntary aloneness. This is the way the cold can get colder, the emptiness can grow, and personal life can become hollower. Loneliness is like walking death —it raises the specter of pointlessness.

Loneliness is also part of the human condition. It seems to be a secret part, rarely talked about, and avoided like a bad, and too revealing tattoo. Without some of it, though, inner life is impossible. Strangely, Life which is so dependent on relationship, is also so dependent upon loneliness. Whole realms are revealed thru adequate aloneness. It is clearly a complicated thing.

but not alone enough — —Loneliness can kill, so can the lack of aloneness. One’s spiritual health, as Rilke points out, can be jeopardized, without adequate aloneness. As a disabled person, a shut-in, I have experienced a lot of aloneness, of the isolation variety, and while it is deeply painful, it paved the way for an even more powerful solitude. One of the greater gifts of my illness is how it introduces me to my inner life. Isolation becomes solitude, and I experience life anew. Being alone enough now is a prerequisite. 

Aloneness is a double-edged gift, sometimes involving involuntary hurt, sometimes delivering voluntary awareness. Each time it arises, invited or not, one gets a glimpse of our true nature; connected to a greater whole, and uniquely ourselves. Loneliness is a life-long servant of that awareness.

to make each moment holy ——I find myself differing from Rilke a little here. I don’t think we ever have the power to make any moment holy. Each moment is already holy. With the right amount of solitude, or vigilance, the holiness of any given moment can be perceived. We do have things to do, which can render the holiness of a moment palpable, but that holiness exists whether we are aware of it, or not.

Our own holiness can also be brought to awareness. The light within is always there, and the loneliness of solitude, whether it be formal (as in a sitting practice) or informal (as in a walk in Nature), can reveal a whole other perception of Life.

Loneliness can be luminous.

May yours be so!

 

 

 

  

Intentional Suffering

I am beginning to have a new understanding about the role of suffering in my life. I thought I understood, I was a trained psychologist, who had read Carl Jung, and his famous dictum, that “there was no coming to consciousness without suffering.” I grasped suffering like a pet understanding. Life was difficult enough to promote awareness. I was informed, in a somewhat abstract and quite normal way, but it wasn’t until I really suffered the pain and uncertainty of my stroke, and its on-going nature, that I grasped the true nature of suffering.

For me, and many of those who have to endure, the ravages of painful grace, suffering is something far beyond the pedestrian beliefs of mainstream culture. Suffering awakened me, it sensitized, humanized, and enlarged me. So much so, that I now feel that the hardship I experience has grown and enabled me. I’m not as disabled, as I am enabled, by what’s happeningI know the heart of Jung’s dictum, because the suffering that has come to me, has made it clear that a painful yet extremely grace-filled kind of learning can come with it. Amongst my many beliefs, is the knowledge, that my greatest learning, and the most shaping influence in my life, has been the times I was ravaged by the unthinkable. In my book, God can be dark.

Learning suffering can be grace-filled, took time, unsettled me, and released me into the wild. Now, I look at suffering as a gift that can free one’s spirit, not as the curse it always seemed to be. Aging has helped wise me up. Now, I look at suffering as a natural part of the humanization process, as essential as the rest of Life, a gift from the Divine. There is nothing special about it, and it is an opportunity that few get to know the privilege of.

Lately, I have turned to service as a way of experiencing Joy. Oddly, thanks to Gurdjieff’s words, and the hardship associated with helping the truly marginalized, I have discovered another grace-filled aspect of suffering. The will to serve those who live in the shadow of our culture (shut-ins and home-bound people), has introduced me to what Gurdjieff called ‘intentional suffering.’ This is the suffering that comes with advocating for, and caring about, the unformed future.

Strangely, the difficulties that accompany caring for what is so enthusiastically ignored (the shadowy realms), becomes the source of learning, development, and most importantly, joy. Who knew, or would have even guessed, that there are forms of suffering, that are related to Joy. Apparently, Gurdjieff did, and now, so do all of us.

The upshot is, suffering has been given a bad name. It now seems likely that the word on suffering is part of the misinformation indoctrinated into us. It could be, that the most learningful and growth-producing periods of Life, have been the ones that were most disruptive, painful, and liberating. Bruises, scars, disappointments, and losses of all kinds, might just be the signs of being well-loved by the Divine.

Luckily (that is my name after all), this kind of thinking accompanies a good case of brain damage. Everything gets turned over. Life remains a mystery, but one that isn’t what it appears. In this case, suffering is a sign of love.

May it be with you, in the wisest way. 

 

 

  

Learning To Fall

“We are — all of us – falling. We are all, now, this moment, in the midst of that descent, fallen from heights that may now seem only a dimly remembered dream, falling toward a depth we can only imagine, glimpsed beneath the water’s surface shimmer. . . . . The fall from youthful ideals, the waning of physical strength, the failure of a cherished hope, the loss of our near and dear, the fall into injury or sickness, and late or soon, the fall to our certain ends. We have no choice but to fall, and little say as to the time or the means. . . . . And let us pray that if we are falling from grace, dear God let us also fall with grace, to grace. If we are falling toward pain and weakness, let us also fall toward sweetness and strength. If we are falling toward death, let us also fall towards life.”

“Perhaps, however, we do have some say in the manner of our falling.”

—    Phillip Simmons from Learning To Fall

When I first read the words above, it was 2007, Philip Simmons had just died, of ALS, and I was so touched by the nature of his passing. I didn’t recognize, until years later, that his words about falling, so aptly described the rigors associated with aging. We are, all learning to fall. Not because we want to, but because Life has seen fit to force us into this learning. Falling, it turns out, is the only way to grasp what it means to be fully human. This Slow Lane is about that.

Many people, perhaps most of us, think falling is some kind of tragedy. We guard against it, not wanting to die before our time, or to be disabled, disfigured, or diseased, before we have sucked the nectar out of life. Perhaps, it is shocking, now to experience me writing, that falling reveals so much more about who we are. Falling, growing long in the tooth, unstable, barely able to remember who you are, and functioning in an iffy manner, all have the effect of sensitizing us, disclosing our true nature. You aren’t really mature until life has worked you over enough to knock the arrogant cultural stuffing out of you.

Initiation by being knocked down — it isn’t pretty, but it is effective. Falling is an appalling gift. It brings home how precious this life is.  Now, I’m not just talking about the misfortunate ones, like myself, no we haven’t been particularly gifted by this form of loss. This is an equal opportunity loss. It comes to everyone. No matter how you carry on, you are going to fall. Not because of gravity, tripping, or bad luck, but because being human means so much.

What is it that we are descending into? Believe it, or not, there is a way uncertainty, and not knowing — soften us up, and prepare us. Life is simultaneously reducing us, and enlarging us. The diminishment that accompanies falling is paradoxically providing the necessary hardship that coaxes out of us a form of awareness that embellishes our humanity. Falling is strangely a form of growing. Our culture hasn’t yet caught wind of this characteristic. It is so busy trying to be productive, in the capitalist sense, that it cannot see that old age — that falling — insures the growth of a way to be more organically productive.

Falling, to those who have swallowed the kool-aid, is just decline. Falling is a lot more than that. But, what it is, cannot be revealed without the pull of Life. There is a kind of existential gravity which is slowly pulling us all into shape. Falling is a calling card — of an essential gravity at work. Losing your balance — and really falling — is the way to find more balance.

 

 

 

  

Ripening Fruit

It is difficult to speak to your unripeness.

You may still be in your springtime,

unaware that autumn exists.

This world is a tree to which we cling----

we, the half-ripe fruit upon it.

 

The immature fruit clings tightly to the branch

because, not yet ripe, it's unfit for the palace.

When fruits become ripe, sweet, and juicy,

then, biting their lips,

they loosen their hold.

 

When the mouth has been sweetened by intense happiness,

the kingdom of the world loses it's appeal.

To be tightly attached to the world is immaturity. 

                                                                                           from Ripened Fruit by Rumi 

As incessant as the tide is what grows us. This life is our incubator, practice field, dojo, humus, and nest. Sometimes growing hurts, sometimes it’s an adventure. You will know it is happening, when you notice you are not what you used to be.  Some call it human plasticity, some amazing adaptability, some Karma, some aging, some are just silent, overwhelmed by ripening awe. Each of us, passing so quickly, becomes something that is naturally consumed. It isn’t what we intend — it is what we are — fruit for evolution, the Universe’s divinity.

There isn’t anything to do. There isn’t anything to not do. The sun of providence is always shining, quickening the inner impulse, delivering our unique taste. Urgent sweat, or relaxed confidence, gets us just as far. Gravity pulls us all into shape. The orbit of inevitability runs equally through all our mysterious lives.

We notice the tide goes in and out. So, do we. Ripening can be deceptive. It can look, and feel, like it’s opposite. Sometimes being thwarted is maturing. Life is a thrill ride — that manufactures unexpected beauty and poignant taste. The ripening one’s, the wrinkled, stooped, and memoryless — remind us all of where we are headed —  and of the great good fortune that awaits us. Ripening is a good thing to be up to. The Universe gets to expand through us.

Your nutritional value isn’t up to you either. It is a product of your being. Stretch out and become yourself. The palace is waiting.

 

 

 

  

In The Deep

“The dark is the light I most fear.”

Tis the season of darkness. The time when the light is brightest because of the growing darkness. Sometimes, the light is most illuminating, because its other half is equally present. It is my contention that darkness complements the light, and makes all of our seasonal rituals more powerful.  Thankfully, the diminution of the light reveals the true abundance, and grace, of the dark.

I am a creature spawned by the darkness. I am evidence, that what appears in the light like an unmitigated disaster — a tragedy of the first degree — can be a form of endarkenment. Pain, uncertainty, and hardship, can be grace-prone too. The darkness caresses too. The light is extolled during this season, for good reason, but the darkness does some of the heavy lifting too. What we often don’t want to see, is what transforms us the most. Anyway, tis the season when what is not celebrated, is boosting and empowering what is. Paradox is rampant, twisting us all into our real form.

I’ve heard it said that we humans only perceive about 10% of the Universe. The rest is called ‘dark matter.’  The theory that science prefers right now, is that the Universe is actually composed of 90% dark matter, which no one can perceive, even with the most sophisticated scientific instruments.  Darkness is almost everything. Who would have guessed?

Only the grotesque who have been blessed by the dark.

Darkness also seems to best portray the deep. It is the metaphor that best captures the unknown, uncertain, reaches of mystery. It is where all of our unactualized potential resides. The unknown benefactor has a dark, indistinguishable face, a complection feared by many.

I have a complex relationship with my parentage. If I had not been assailed by what appeared to be tragedy, I would not be what I am. No one warned me. No one told me such a thing was possible. The only discussion of dark angels I was privy to, was of evil. I can tell you now, there are dark angels doing providential work. Being born in the dark is perhaps the most accurate birth one can have. Happily, I can look at the face of darkness now, and see a lover. Light is, for me, a particularly brilliant part of the darkness. I float in a deep and wonderfully dark sea.

The turning of the year, the solstice, the birth of new hope, the family rituals and the religious and spiritual moments, all underscore the power that resides in Mystery. The darkness is Mystery made most evident. I welcome this season not because of what it portends, but because of what is already here, beguiling us with darkness. The deep is coming to our senses.

Deck the halls with deeply uncertain joy! It is the uncertainty, more than the certainty, that makes this such a wondrous, and joyful occasion.

May darkness, and depth, fill your cup this year!

 

 

 

  

The Initiating Wound

A life review

 is one of the most important 

developmental tasks of later life. 

 

These forays into the past

are a naturally occurring, 

universal mental process in older adults.

 

 Only in old age

 with the proximity of death 

can one truly experience

 a personal sense of the entire life cycle.

 

 That makes old age 

a unique stage of life

 and makes the review of life

 at that time equally unique.

Pulitzer-Prize winning gerontologist Dr. Robert Butler 

No one knows where they are headed. I didn’t. Maybe, I still don’t. To look back, and to see some of the trail that brought me here, is painfully beautiful. This is especially true when one beholds a part of the trail, that one has never seen before or, that one had assumed was something else. There is a kind of dizziness, or vertigo, that befalls one when the landscape of fate reveals itself. As one’s story changes, so does one’s sense of self. Recollection, or a life review, is a big deal. Aging begs me to better know myself. And, that can be an existential thrill ride.

In the summer of 1986 I was 38 years old, I had just completed my MA. and was living by myself. There were so many ways my life might go, and I had very little idea which way was best suited for the being I intended to be. I knew that I lacked a center of gravity, a place within, from which I could decide where my life might go. The decision was made, I much later discovered, by an unknown part of myself, someone I can now see at 74.

That long ago me, started spontaneously to write. Little did I know that writing was going to be important to me. Instead, I just wondered about what I was doing, and went ahead and did it. Without any real intention, mainly to pass the lonely time, I wrote a piece, which I called at the time ‘The Initiating Wound.’ I’ll spare you the details, except to say, that that piece carried the elements I was to discover later in the aftermath of my stroke. All the seeds were present, I just could not recognize them yet.

Unknowingly, I wrote of a painfully important initiation, that involved being broken and wounded, to become whole. I wrote about how initiating hardship and loss can be. 20 years later I experienced it. I may have survived, because some part of me knew what was possible. Seeing it now, is poignant, disturbing, and enormously gratifying. I don’t believe my life, or anybody’s for that matter, is preordained. Still, this recollection gives me pause. I call it now, pre-traumatic growth. Somehow, some part of me knew the impossible. You can believe the world looks really different, when it veers off into the other-worldly.

When one can see crossroads that were traversed by an unknown self, it is sobering. It makes one wonder to what degree of reality one is actually perceiving. It’s a good thing ‘not knowing’ grows on you as you get older. I probably have never been what, and who, I thought I was. For me, one of the benefits of life review is that I get a clearer picture, that I am not what I supposed. The mirror of the past belongs in a funhouse, because it is revealing a me I know, and a me I don’t know. How astonishing!

The uniqueness of life review reveals to me that I am a holy mystery. Time has helped me ripen into a unique form that somehow was predicted long ago. I can’t figure that one out, but I sure can be swept into awe by it.

I hope that is your experience too.

 

 

 

 

Disillusionment

 One of the attributes of old age which has had a positive impact upon me has been that I am outgrowing much of the cultural nonsense I have been subject to. Growing more mature has brought with it a more refined and perceptive viewpoint. I am no longer subject to ‘common knowledge,’— the most conventional of assumptions. That development has been really liberating, but full of betrayal and painful disillusionment. The crazy deception prevalent in the normal social world has led me to a lifetime of distortion.

It has been painful, disorienting, de-humanizing, disturbing and debilitating. Once I was small, young, and inexperienced-enough to believe the created world I was born into. That era passed long ago. And with it passed my child-like innocence.

I drank the kool-aid. I lived the big lie — swallowing separation — and reducing my native wit into the pablum of the era. I was the most faithful lemming, heading over the cliff of environmental disaster, with a smile on my face. I may have been more and more depressed, but I was living the good life.

Fortunately, I’m older than that now. Aging has revealed what I always knew, but had no way of saying, integrating or really affirming before. The world is suffering from a lack of human imagination. And, so am I.

Each step of the way. Each turn of my life, as I grew more aware, I found good reasons to no longer feel so sanguine about what had once been so important to me. I went from trying to be what would pass, to an effort to find something to save me outside myself — like a good job, relationship, or house. All along, I was soon disabused of the things that mattered to me. I grew, by leaving behind a trail of shattered illusions. I could have been cynical, but instead my disillusionment just grew.

Now, I have experienced a life of twists and turns. What used to matter — the circumstances that always floated my boat — have all passed over the horizon. I am    left with a lifetime of illusions of fulfillment. AKwakening to all of these false starts has been disheartening.  It is odd how bearing this lifetime of disappointments has somehow prepared me for this part of my life.

I have a new friend who says, “Disillusionment is a precursor to wisdom.” Rightly, I believe, as he is pointing out, that all of these necessary failures, have delivered me to a healthier realization of what really matters. The earlier illusions have been replaced by newer, more gratifying ones. But, now I can see an old pattern of broken promises and hypnotizing beliefs. I’m still prone to believe some of them, but now I’m savvy enough to know I’m fooling myself. I am a sad carrier of yesterday’s beliefs, of hope gone awry, of massive disillusionment, of a humble, if not humiliated, innocence.

Strangely, all of this is so normal. Getting older, has revealed to me just how much I have been wrong. It is a painful kind of liberation. Another twist, is that it is carrying me closer to home. I am old enough now, where I know my freedom depends upon freeing myself from the gravity of all these old assumptions. Disillusionment with the past serves one headed into an unfettered future.

Along the way I have come to distrust certainty. That has put me on a path of unknowing. This experience is harrowing, only slightly more desirable then the one that formerly looked so appealing. I travel more slowly now, weighed down by my accumulated illusions, but sensitized to a humbler way.