Extinction

 

“He who does not at some time, with definite determination

 consent to the terribleness of life,

or even exalt in it,

 never takes possession 

of the inexpressible fullness 

of the power of our existence.”

                                     Ranier Maria Rilke from Selected Letters                                                                                                                                                                                                 

I am a dead man. Worse yet, I am still alive. I am on the extinction line. We, the shut-ins and house-bound, are the ones who are already more dead than alive, we are about to be gone, to exist no more. In my case, I am human. Proof positive that this extinction event is going to take humans down too — it is, in fact, already doing so.

Going out of existence, dying isn’t new, or unusual, but in today’s terms, being made extinct is. Waiting to die has usually been left to the old, now it can happen to anyone. Extinction is a global phenomenon, hurried along by the massive ignorance of our kind. So, in some way, there is a kind of justice that accompanies the ending that awaits us all. An ending that is already happening, especially for those who are most vulnerable.

I am one of them. The ones that are out of sight, voiceless, and powerless. Shut-ins and the house-bound. The first to go. Condemned early by the force-field of ignorance. Humanity’s refusal to recognize limitations. I am going to go early, like many of the species who rely on others for their survival. Our limitations insure it. And, the limitations of those who recognize no limitations.

It’s a terrible thing recognizing that your time is up. It is even more poignant when one recognizes, that one is fated to absorb the same hit that is going on in the natural world. I have always known our destinies are linked, but now I know the same insensitivities that doom one, also affect the other. Climate change also means social change. All of it is driven, in part, by human consciousness, or should I say, lack of consciousness. It could be either, or both. The effect is the same.

It’s not that I don’t want to die. I accept that part of my fate. It is that our inhumanity extends to each other, and particularly to our most vulnerable. Just as we should be trying to preserve our endangered species, we should be trying to preserve the lives of those who have lost the means to help themselves. Equal justice should apply uniformly.

What troubles my heart is that we seem intent upon ridding ourselves of those who know dependence isn’t just a bad thing, and that all Life depends. In some painful ways, we are disposing of our chances. Drowning together, is anxiety-provoking, but dismissing those who cannot help themselves — wherever they lay in the animal kingdom— is not my idea of how I want to go out. Integrity matters too! If that is the result that we have made inevitable, then I have a lot to grieve in the time left to me.

From this sad place, the world looks like a trampled miracle. The faces of the suffering are, oddly, more beautiful. The glory of who we are, is increasingly hollow, and in some strange way, more awesome. I accept the refusal that permeates much of human life, and yet I long for, and dream of, the few who live by broader laws. 

  

Dependence

I usually take a kind of perverse pride when I approach a taboo area in these missives. But, not this time. The stigma is just too great. There is an impenetrable field of darkness around this one, a kind of consensus agreement that devastates. It reflects the kind of stubborn injustice that rebounds especially harshly upon all of us. Oddly enough, I want to address a very beautiful part of our human nature, that is treated like a dirty and inarticulate street person. I’m talking about what makes us a social animal — that we occasionally need and depend on each other.

Dependence is a dirty word, an even more branding and socially stigmatizing event. If one is forced to hang out in it for very long (like the diseased and disabled), then all manner of slurs can come one’s way. Self-sufficiency is the coin of the realm, and anything less is highly looked down upon and avoided.  It is as if welfare queens and self-pity are going to swamp the land. Needing is un-American, and for sissies.

So, it is, that our greatest strength, our bond with each other, is de-graded and demeaned. The reality of dependence is so marginalized and scary, that even good souls, like most of us, are drastically unprepared for it when it surely comes. Even the old host this element of ageism. It is the tragedy of the commons we are still perpetrating.

Dependency is actually a good and very heart-warming quality. Sure, it’s reality is misconstrued, but it offers a real chance that one can feel truly loved as one is. There is nothing like a warm hand on the brow. Most of us are so busy maintaining our pretense of wholeness, that we totally miss the wholeness we make because we actually need each other.

In more confident times, I used to think of myself as the ambassador of need. But lately, I have been worn down, more psychically-disabled by the social environment that views neediness like cooties. There is a naïve child-like viciousness that rules the land. Needing, in any form, is an insult that threatens our way of life. Sadly, most of us, without really thinking about it, apologize for being human, and further participate in the unraveling of human community. Meanwhile, the environment, and those who live on the outskirts, suffer more, and sink more thoroughly into our calloused ignorance.

Depending is not a sin, although it is often treated like one. The reality of those who depend is not inherently parasitic. We who depend are not a burden — we are an opportunity to care. To that extent asking for help is giving a gift.  The real burden is the uncaring world of mistrust that prevails today.

Dependency is actually a doorway into the world of connection. It is an engraved invitation. Falling into need is kindness, it provides access to a kinder, more loving world. Most of us shrink from the opportunity, fearing the worst, and avoiding marginality.

We aren’t being taught to be compassionate for strictly or own soul’s sake, but because we thrive best, in a world where compassion is present.

Falling, becoming less than we once were, is a human trait. It is a fate we all share. Inevitably, more than gravity takes us down. That too, is a gift of Life. One we can be sure of. Life, to make more Life, to actually evolve the whole thing, depends on an inevitable descent. Depending is part of the way. Let’s get better at honoring this feature of our existence.

Let’s let our hearts be broken open for each other, and for ourselves, because in doing so, the world becomes a more caring place.

 

 

 

  

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!