It’s important to understand that the spiritual life and the religious life are two different things.
The Spiritual Life
The spiritual life is always an interior life. It is a universally known, protracted series of ecstasies and ecstatic visions, experienced during the state of meditation. By definition, then, there is no ego consciousness involved in any of the experiences.
The spiritual life is not contrived in any way.
Although it exists in potential form in every human being, as a pupa in a little chromosomal cocoon; many people will never see it emerge in its butterfly splendor. Not every human being gets to experience mystical transcendence, and those who do rarely care to discuss it.
Since it is beyond the ken of ego-consciousness, it must be experienced to be understood. Worse, not only do people fail to understand what they are told, they have a peculiar resistance to the information and will not hesitate to dismiss the narrative as fanciful, absurd, and even heretical.
The Religious Life
The religious life, regardless of any spiritual experience, is exterior to the point of advertising itself: parochial schools; distinctive temples; ceremonies and festivities; the raiment of hierarchical rank; garments and adornments that identify the laymen as a follower of the religion – prayer beads, special headdresses, and jewelry that displays a symbol associated with the religion. Prayers – openly said at meals, at the ringing of the Angelus or to the call of the Muezzim – also indicate the individual’s religious affiliation. Genetic endowment is irrelevant except as it indicates family relationship. People tend to follow the religion into which they are born.
The spiritual life, then, being independent of cultural organization, has a commonality which renders it approachable from any religious base. Since visionary experiences vary little among the world’s cultures, it is as if the characters, plot, and setting constitute a drama that can be translated into any language.
Written by Ming Zhen Shakya in collaboration with Master Yin Zhao Shakya & Fa Jun Shakya, Assault on the Summit. Zatma, Order of Hsu Yun. Painting of Ming Zhen Shakya by Fa Ming Shakya of the Order of Hsu Yun in Romania. We are grateful for both teachings.
by Yin Kai Shakya, Zen Buddhist Priest Order of Hsu Yun
‘Avalokiteshvara
while practicing deeply with
the Insight that Brings Us to the Other Shore,
suddenly discovered that
all of the five Skandhas are equally empty,
and with this realization
he overcame all ill-being.’
‘Listen Sariputra,
this Body itself is Emptiness
and Emptiness itself is this Body.
This Body is not other than Emptiness
and Emptiness is not other than this Body.
The same is true of Feelings,
Perceptions, Mental Formations,
and Consciousness.’
-The Heart Sutra Thich Nhat Hanh
The greatest thing the late Ming Zhen Shakya taught me was the importance of living in a productive, fulfilling way in daily life. This teaching helped me overcome my tendency to cling to metaphysical thinking. Eventually it became the vehicle for my ongoing awakening. I owe her a tremendous debt of gratitude for it!
Like so many others, I “looked too hard for things that aren’t there” not only in my spiritual practice, but also in life. And after finding nothing, I abandoned the superfluous “looking” altogether. Allow me to illustrate with several antidotes from my daily life.
At Work
I had a challenging day at work. It was one of those days where there were several things on my To-Do list. While working diligently to complete every last item on the list, in a timely and efficient manner, my boss, without warning, calls and tells me to drop everything immediately.
The Executive VP needs something done and he needs it to be done now!
You know what I mean, an urgent request with an alarming deadline followed by the inevitable question, ‘can you make this happen before the end of the day?’ My answer? Well, my answer is always yes, maybe a bit quixotic but still a yes. It comes from my desire to do my best and to do it on time.
And heaven, by god I soldiered through it and delivered the goods with enough time left over for my boss to review the work. Before he handed it off to the executives he made sure that human beings would actually be able to decipher it.
Voila! It was on time and it worked. Yahoo!
At Home
By the end of the day when good-old Miller Time came around, I went outside, sat down in one of our big, plastic Adirondack chairs on the porch, cracked-open a cold one, and watched my dog frolic in the yard.
Sure, it was a challenging day, with unreasonable deadlines, but I got the job done and enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment. As I sat outside in my chair, watching my dog chase the squirrels that are forever zigzagging and whizzing by her, I thought, I worked hard today. We can pay the rent, and am enjoying a rest in my backyard where I imagined my twins to come will play. I felt good.
When Miller Time was over, I went back inside to cook gumbo for me and my wife, and our two babies who are growing inside her tummy. That took me from feeling good, to feeling great (it always does).
On Facebook®
After dinner my wife and I retired to the living room sofa, to relax and catch-up on what we’d missed on Facebook® while we were both at work.
That’s when I went from feeling great to feeling like I wanted to choke people.
A friend of mine had posted a link to an article on Vice.com, entitled “Millennials On Spirit Quests Are Ruining Everything About Ayahuasca” and it caught my eye as I scrolled-through my newsfeed. I should’ve just chuckled and continued on, but I didn’t. Nope. Like a jackass, I clicked on it and started reading. I won’t go too deeply into the details of the article here, I’ll just give the premise and leave it at that-
Apparently, upwardly-mobile young adults who feel unfulfilled in their lives are traveling to South America to hang out with Native Peoples and drink the hallucinogenic brew Ayahuasca, with the hopes of having spiritual visions. This, in-turn, has brought a lot of unwanted attention to the afore-mentioned Native Peoples, and such attention is becoming a threat to their culture.
Like Cain, the anger rose up, and from that anger I formulated a comment which I left on my friend’s post. It read something like this-
“What’s this vision quest bullshit? Really? These people need a vision quest? What sheer stupidity! Let me tell you something. There is nothing, nothing more to life than working hard, raising your family right, exercising, and fly fishing (or whatever task you prefer to master). If you’re looking for anything more out of life than that you’re a rube, because it doesn’t exist. Period. Full-stop.”
Ugh! I know, the less a man makes declarative statements the less likely he is to look foolish in retrospect. But as no one fully understands the workings of karma I was blessed with an experience while washing the dishes not long after I’d posted the comment.
In the Kitchen Holy Place
It’s no accident that I enjoy spending time in the kitchen, cooking and cleaning. I suppose I could be described as “Old School” in the sense that yes, I believe the old adage that “a man’s home is his castle,” but I take it to include my wife and my forthcoming twins. I do my very best to make it our castle. But there’s one stipulation: The kitchen is where my best Dharma work is done. This translates into the kitchen is my holy place.
It’s where everything is cooked up, eaten, washed, dried and put into place. It’s a place of refuge where my consciousness is cooked, chewed, washed, dried and put straight. It’s a mortar and pestle where cause and effect, karma, and the whole universe are ground down and changed in the ordinariness of cooking, eating, and cleaning.
Everything is fine, there.
Those words came to me, after I finished doing the dishes, while I stood there looking at the clean countertops and the empty sink, which all seemed to glow in absolute perfection in the evening sunlight which beamed through my kitchen window. I knew the sink wasn’t perfect because I washed all the dishes that were in there, and the countertop wasn’t perfect because I wiped it clean.
I saw they were perfect because washing the dishes washed me off, and wiping-off the countertop wiped me clean.
I stood there, giddy…giggling as the experience occurred.
My consciousness, indeed, me, arises just the same as dirty dishes arise from cooking and serving dinner. And for some ineffable reason, this realization makes me suffer less, and gives me a deeply-abiding peace and joyfulness unlike
anything I’ve ever felt.
Zen, lovely in its inherent simplicity, gives everything in the here-and-now to experience this joy. The beloved Heart Sutra is a lens to contemplate and follow the Eight-Fold Path in a life in-which to practice.
What more is needed?
Nothing.
Equanimity comes from the experience of keenly discerning that without dirty dishes and dirty countertops, a clean kitchen cannot exist, and if your kitchen is clean, sooner or later the need to eat, along with literally everything else, contributes to the arising of a dirty kitchen.
It’s life… and it’s all fine… this not looking for things that aren’t there.
It began when the U.S. election polls suggested a visible drift upward towards selecting the most unlikely candidate for President; when the drift was confirmed in his conversations amongst his white male friends, John Robert Parker, a tall, dark, spindly man, decided it was time to move.
He had been watching the shifts for months seeing his bright hopes for change turn from small daubs of white into stronger, darkening colors of gray only to disappear into whiteout black. The shifts and drifts disheartened him and led to unprofitable outrage whenever he listened to the news.
It’s dismal. He thought, not recognizing his thoughts were subject to countless influences most of which were beyond his control. One thought, however, seemed to be outside the effect of these varying drifts leaving John Robert Parker with a more pleasing magnetism of great vigor.
‘I am moving.’
These three words seemed to make him stand up in an unfamiliar robust style. He seemed to be less swayed by the shifts and drifts and became more attuned and alert to the just noticeable differences between the washed out whites to dead stump black.
I am moving was a charm like no other. He’d often say it as a sworn statement. I am moving. It invigorated him. Right in the moment, in front of the array of the visible drifts, he’d at least think it, if not state it as a convincing truth of the future, ‘I am moving.’
The fact that he never began to pack or even look for a place to go didn’t seem to diminish the power of his assertion. It seemed the words in the face of the drifts touched some new unimaginable awareness within him. It was indescribable. ‘I am moving,’ was an affirmation that went beyond packing up and leaving town.
Anytime he heard an update on the polling numbers or hear friends count the days until their candidate won the election, John Robert affirmed ‘I am moving.’ Not once did these three words fail to lift his spirits even though he was out of work at the time. ‘I am moving’ saved him from the drifts as well as the doom of being unemployed and low on cash. In some absurd logic, the two exposures made perfect sense.
His friends, however, were eager to remind him he was known to be more of a short term worker and not one for the slogging routine required to secure a full time position. Whenever they pointed his history out to him, his belief in the power of saying ‘I am moving’ increased. Nothing seemed to overshadow the ability for it to save him from his previous dive into dismal despair. It became more and more meaningful to John Robert Parker to the point he thought he should share it with others. But before anyone got wind of his plans to preach the salvation value of ‘I am moving’ he heard on the news the following broadcast.
“Several super-sized jumbo jets suddenly lost altitude and are reported missing. There are reports the planes have crashed near the airport. We are waiting for confirmation.”
After hearing this news and during the time when everything went dark he forgot about his plans to save others. He looked out his window from his street level apartment for some sign. In the very near distance, along the horizon he saw what looked like soft shoots and funnels rising upward across the heavens.
In his calculation of time and space he estimated where the planes came down. I’m close…real close. The crash sites are close. Waiting in the dark seemed unacceptable. He set out on foot to locate the remains of the alleged fallen planes.
Without power the city was dark and silent except he heard the recurring sounds of sirens in the distance moving away from where he estimated the crash site was. With passing interest he wondered, Where are they going? But he dropped the thought of the others and turned in the direction of what he believed was the way to the shoots and funnels he saw from his apartment window.
After some time on foot he stopped and stood with his back to everyone and took a self portrait silhouette pose. He stood alone on a dirt mound facing the shimmering bright and darker shafts of light. Facing this display he lost all interest in the power of his three words, ‘I am moving.’
He leaned his spindly body weight to one side in a small effort to make some difference. It was all too much for him. It made him know he was unimportant. But what is? He screamed his new three words again and again.
But what is?
He felt lost, small…helpless by the enormity of it. He was brought up to see his shortness. He tried to encourage himself. He’d look and look again. Maybe he missed something? Maybe…just maybe there was more to it than the eye can see? He shifted his weight to the other leg. Again…no difference. He made an effort to stand erect and face what was there. His arms hung by his side. He sniffed the air into his tiny nostrils. He closed his eyes. He opened them. It was still there. He considered removing his clothes but shivered at the thought. He asked in his small silent voice, But what is?
It’s big, I tell you…real big, an unimaginable size. The blues, and grays, and blacks and whites, all of meteoric magnitude. And I tell you…I was just this far…this hairsbreadth distance from…I tell you I could touch it from where I stood. I was that close.
John Robert Parker raised his hand holding his thumb against the soft part of his index finger in a feeble attempt to show how close he was to seeing what it is.
The spiritual life is for you and others. It’s not owned by anyone, it is for you and me and everyone else. It’s not a secret—not something hidden. It’s not meant to stay hidden. It is there to be found, right under your nose.
But you might have a big blockhead in the way of finding what is there.
You see…
Spiritual life is to forget yourself and to make the Beloved the center of your heart.
How do you forget the self and make the Beloved the center of your heart?
Study yourself…then…forget yourself…then…everything comes to awaken you.
Put your mind on things above. Don’t stray off.
Take off your bag of goods from your back and empty it.
Here is a wonderful story that makes it clear how we go after the scents and smells and shapes of the ego and stray rather than stay with the Beloved. It is the story of Meghiya, a young aspiring monk who was given the task of staying with the Beloved morning, noon and night. His job was to sit beside the Beloved and just hang out there. Hard to imagine his good fortune going sour, but this young monk, like most of us, are wobbly disciples who are easily duped by cravings and ignorance. You see Meghiya was with the Beloved right where he was ….BUT…he wanted to go down by the water where he thought it would be nicer.
We are Meghiya, not in the literal sense of sitting by the mangroves in robes, barefooted and bald, but in the spiritual sense of being given an opportunity to be with the Beloved morning, noon and night…BUT…we want to go and get something we think is nicer.
We are wobbly disciples easily duped by cravings and ignorance.
The Truth is that the Beloved is present within our being, but we, like Meghiya go wandering off after a little while in search of something better that we believe will satisfy our craving for holiness (wholeness). We wander away and when we do, we suffer.
Dukkha, the pali word for dissatisfaction (suffering) refers to the axle hole of a wheel on an ox-driven cart as not being even or well-fitted to the axle. And when it is not fitted properly the ride becomes bumpy and the bumpiness leads to samsara or wandering in search of something else to properly fit the hole so the axle fits and the ride is smooth.
When we feel out of whack and off kilter we begin to desire something to make the ride better. Instead of looking at the desire we go after something to satisfy the desire.
Instead of studying the self to forget the self, we forget that our desires blind us (ignorance) to our cravings. When we begin to see how we get lost in dukkha and wander (samsara) away in search of satisfaction, we need not get discouraged. The Beloved is there, we’ve not been abandoned, but we have wandered off. There is dukkha and samsara but not failure. We followed some scheme of fabrications and got lost, and need to come back.
Turning around and coming back is part of practice. And it requires effort and strong determination sometimes more than when you first began to practice.
It helps to have tasted the Truth of the Beloved even if it is a little morsel of the Truth. We remember the taste of sugar, something sweet like chocolate and can even begin to salivate when we think of delicious chocolate. It is the same with the Beloved. If you have tasted the Truth even a little bit and recall it then it will help you make the effort to return.
How long does it take?
It takes as long as it takes.
Don’t give up.
Keep your nose to the ground and study yourself…then…forget yourself…let everything come to awaken.
I really don’t want to be remembered, because I don’t think I’ve done anything to be remembered for. I’d just like to die alone without others anxiously clustering round me being kind and loving, and taking down final words.
I’d like to be alone, and I’d like to be as much as possible forgotten.
I can see nothing in myself to admire. I can see the greatness of God to admire: I wouldn’t mind that being remembered: that God was so infinitely good to me, and right from the start, made me aware of what He was.
But that could make people wish that they’d had that too, whereas He comes to them in a completely different way.
No, I think best just to let me fall into the dust and go to Him.
********************
The above piece was written by Sister Wendy Beckett, a British Hermit & Consecrated Virgin. I read this piece to Ming Zhen Shakya while she was in hospice. Ming Zhen thought it said all that she would say as her last message on ZATMA and asked that it be posted after her death. Ming Zhen Shakya died last night, November 2016.
Yet I reach out,
Convinced that I can,
Then wanting more.
On the prairie,
In the nearby wood,
The hard, black legged tick perches
Atop a single blade of grass.
It extends and opens its front legs wide,
Wanting and waiting to grasp a passerby.
This behavior is called questing.
It reflects an all consuming search.
The grasp of the tick brings disease
To the object of it desire
And often destruction to itself.
In my silence yesterday,
I saw myself perched on a stem,
My arms outstretched,
Wanting more.
More affirmation
More adoration,
More control.
More time.
More…..
My outstretched hands were not empty.
When I wait and want,
I often offer an exchange
Sometimes it is benign,
Sometimes it causes harm.
It always serves me first.
Why do I give in order to own that which I cannot?
Why the desire to own
Instead of embracing and examining
The joy of belonging?
I read this morning that the early Christian church took on the laws and structures of the Roman state.
It was when persecutions of Christians ceased and mandatory affiliation as a Christian became the norm.
It was an ancient trend.
Trends are nothing new, groups form and share what is attractive or
fashionable and trends take hold. There were, however, apparently some who felt the new structures, the new religious regime although widespread was not
favorable for spiritual awakening. In Christian terms, it might be said it was
not favorable for knowing God. It was a trend, a style of life that was in
vogue but may not have been helpful in spiritual awakening.
Where are we?
Our spiritual work is not a trend, although Zen seemed to offer a flashy
alternative for those who wanted to be in a chic spiritual practice.
The “church” whatever that might mean today, continues to struggle with ancient laws and structures of a Roman state. To affiliate with a particular denomination or religious dogma is not the norm today. Neither is popular from a worldly perspective to study the Dharma unless it is hip deep into psychology and brain science. These new interests may be all the rage in Buddhist and Christian circles but they do not serve the spiritual seeker, and they may not be a favorable environment for spiritual liberation.
The ego-self is happy to be in a dalliance with modern ideas.
In such an affair the ego remains strong, frivolous and the center of our lives. As long as the ego-self holds a central position our ability to know the Dharma is blocked.
What is the environment that matches an inner longing to awaken for you?
Is it to continue where you are, as you are?
Or is there a sense of seeking that is not quenched by the material world of psychology, science or even religious laws and dogma?
It seems there may be a sense of foolishness that conflicts with an inner sense of purpose and we get stuck on this ledge. It is on this ledge we battle and may live out the short life we have been given in an inner skirmish between the ego and the Dharma.
We don’t want to be seen as fools but we do want to know our purpose. The ego continuously bangs the door shouting, “You fool!” when we consider devotion to the Dharma as our purpose.
Devotion of this sort requires guts and a keen sense of inner loyalty to this
devotion. This type of devotion is not understood by the material world.
Where is your allegiance?
This work demands a greater honesty than psychological analysis, where defenses are reworked and rebuilt in more “appropriate” and “healthy” ways. A mask of defenses is still a mask and it disguises and blocks knowing the Truth.
As human beings, we tend to relate to everything as “mine” and this masquerade although often acceptable in the material world is a death mask in the spiritual realm.
Let me give a little example.
When we are alone, feeling blue or lonely we tend to want to find a way to get rid of this feeling. We hunt for things to make this feeling go away.
The dispelling of the feeling often takes the form of what can I do to feel better? Call a friend? Do something? The sense of “me” is central. This is the human condition and is normative in the material world.
What about “me?”
How do I look after “me?”
If we seek help from the material world, we will get directions on how to get what we need or how to get what we want so we won’t feel “lonely” or “blue.” We can barely imagine another way, a way that looks for the Dharma of the feeling, of the moment, of what is actually going on in a given circumstance. It is similar to being in the darkness, when we are in the darkness we hunt for a light switch to end the darkness. What if we remained with the feeling, facing whatever it is as God’s voice, the voice of the Dharma rather than reacting to an inner impulse to escape the feeling?
What if we met it, met the feeling as part of our interior landscape without rationalization or even reason, but just to meet it. It requires an allegiance and devotion to seeing everything, the whole panorama of inner experience as the voices and sights of Dharma and letting go of the topography as “MINE.” It means accepting whatever is happening, wherever we are, as our life. This inner geography is our spiritual life with God whether we see it or not. It requires relinquishing fantasy for something to be better.
This practice is an expedition of leaving “ME and MINE” and crossing into the unfamiliar spiritual geography of solitude, silence and wholehearted engagement with the diversity of the Dharma, the assortments of God.
What is true everywhere, for everyone…all the time?
We are born, we appear, we get sick, we grow old and we die. That is true everywhere, for everyone…all the time. It is the cycle of life. Yet, in the propaganda of the mind, the ground of fabrication, we are drawn away from the true line of events over and over again. Instead, we look at the lines we draw, those imaginary lines drawn in the shifting sands of the material world of the mind.
We spend most of our time drawing these lines, pulling on them, reeling them in, darkening them, and continuing them in order to maintain the ignorance of our puny view. We insist. We prolong. We protract. We believe.
“Look! Look! Look!” says the sage.
We ask. Is this admonition enough?
“Look! Look! Look!” says the sage.
But our puny view wants more when we look, we want to look for some entertainment, we want to look like somebody, and we want to look acceptable.
“Look! Look! Look!” says the sage.
We look for more.
“Look! Look! Look!” says the sage.
No matter what the circumstances, we are advised to look, look, look.
“Look! Look! Look!” says the sage.
There is no direction given, no proposition, no hint of what to look for or what to look at.
“Look! Look! Look!” says the sage.
Here is a story of a man in misery who goes to the sage for some advice.
“I am so sad and unhappy,” the man declares as he looks into the face of the sage.
The sage nods his head and whispers, “I see.”
“Yes. I am miserable.”
Again the sage nods his head and repeats. “I see.”
The man decides to define and draw out his sadness.
“I am miserable because I want to go into business.”
“Look! Look! Look!” the sage begins.
The man is uncertain, does not know what the sage means for him to do. The man decides to further explain his situation.
“I am miserable because I want to go into business, but I have no money.”
“Look! Look! Look!” says the sage again.
The man wants to clarify further.
“I am miserable because I have no money to go into business. If I had money, I could go into business.”
“Look! Look! Look!” says the sage.
The man takes a deep, coarse breath and begins to feel anger in his misery.
“I don’t think you are listening to me. I am sad and miserable because I have no money to go into business and I have no way of getting any money to go into business.”
“Look! Look! Look!” says the sage.
Now the man begins to forget about his sadness and misery of having no way to get the money to go into business and begins to raise his voice at the sage.
“You are not listening to me. I am telling you I have no way to get the money to go into business!”
“Look! Look! Look!” says the sage.
The man begins to feel a burning in his body and in his mind. His sadness and misery begin to be overtaken by the fire of anger and hate. He wants to yell and scream at the sage.
“Look!” the man shouts. “Listen to me! You are not listening to me! All you keep saying is this stupid thing….look, look, look…what in hell does that have to do with the fact that I am miserable because I have no way to get the money to go into business.”
“Look! Look! Look!” says the sage.
The man crumples over in an agony of rage, sorrow and misery. He begins to weep. His hands are on the floor in fists. He wants to pound something. He is as the saying goes, beside himself. The sage looks at him and touches the top of his head and says,
“Look! Look! Look!” says the sage.
This is the Way to have a simple life. This is the Way of simplicity.
“Look! Look! Look!”
What is true everywhere, for everyone…all the time?
Reference for Nothing in Life Has Lines Mike Sibley, Drawing from Line to Life.
Don’t Lament Death, Watch Your Step
by Yao Xiang Shakya
Last week I was asked to speak at a memorial service for one of the members of our small community here. It was a talk for a woman who had many friends, friends that supported her at the end of her life with daily phone calls, body massage, meals delivered…friends that helped her manage and navigate the medical system…with appointments and medications, with surgery and rehab, from diagnosis through treatment and prognosis. Helping her every step of the way… from the first, unexpected fall in her backyard to her last breath.
In the middle of a heavy duty diagnosis…in the middle of the hard work of dying…this woman gave her dog away, arranged schedules for others to visit her, managed her bill paying, transportation to and from doctor visits and hospital; ate chocolate, drank coffee, complained, laughed, argued, cried and talked on the phone and let others see her in the most vulnerable situations. She allowed others to see her body diminish, her feelings come and go, her impulses push and pull, her dreams disappear until her consciousness ended and her breath returned to the One.
Life goes on…even though she knew she was dying…the material world, the everyday world made demands on her…even though she knew she was dying. Perhaps the BIG difference between her and us is in awareness. She did not lament death, she watched her step. As her body weakened, she began to know she was dying while her life continued. She was given a glimpse into what we often ignore. She began to know firsthand the material world makes demands on us in the middle of our dying.
She hit the jackpot. Her diagnosis gave her the treasure of time and awareness to know she was dying. She could tie up loose ends, make amends and let others love her.
Early on she told me “I am not afraid to die, I am afraid to suffer.” Her words suggest a real and present insight into the human condition, into her human condition, into our human condition.
We all are going to die and we don’t want to suffer. We are all going to die and life continues to make demands on us even though we are dying. It’s no use lamenting death. It’s still required we watch our next step.
We all are faced with this condition, but not all of us are aware of it.
When someone we know, someone we admire and respect, someone we care about dies we are given a small pot of gold. The death is a small glimmer into our human condition. It is a reminder, another chance to reflect on where we are and what is going on here.
As all things come to awaken us, death comes to awaken us.
We can’t stop death. We continue to respond to life as it comes. We do our very best knowing we are going to die. We meet the demands of our life in every circumstance. We remember this earth is a temporary situation for each one of us. It’s not a time to mourn, but a time to remember and awaken.
In the face of loss, we are given another chance to see close-up where we are. It’s a time to see clearly, to know directly what it means to let go, to relinquish everything, to see the impermanence of the material world and to know the insubstantial nature of the human condition.
Don’t lament death. It comes to awaken. Don’t take life too seriously. Do your best, your very best knowing you are going to die. Take the pot off your head and see for yourself what’s the next step.
When I walk into her apartment, into the small entranceway where she greets me, takes my coat —hugs and kisses me with agape’ affection — directs me with her hand on my arm, into her main living space, the first thing I notice is that she has candles lit. One or two,on tables or bookcases up againsteach of three walls of the room. The room is aglow with soft light.
“Make yourself comfortable,” she says. “I’m getting thechampagne. We will celebrate.”
I feel my body relax letting go of some of the tension I feel,heaviness thathas been with me all day.Much of my time was spent looking out of my office window instead of working. I shouldn’t have come.
I am in no mood for conversation – especially worthless babble. I intended to develop a new time management plan today — to implement tomorrow— but I didn’t get to it…that bothers me. I feel sluggish…like stagnant water.
She is an intelligent, highly educated woman —an extremely beautiful woman —but I never met a woman yet who didn’t do some kind of Jibber-Jabber.
I’m in no mood for the multitudinous questions that will arise when two people know so little about each other. After so many years in this game, I am tired of the interviewing process that takes place. I have often thought of writing a resume, handing it to a woman, and saying, “Here, this is who I am, what I have of offer, what I am looking for? If you’re interested, call me, if not, let’s not waste your time or my time.”
But of course I never do that. It would be crass. It’s the dreariness of this day that’s making me think about this stuff.
My eyes go to the credenza, which is up against the fourth wall. This is the main focus of the room, or the center stage, so to speak. There are six pillar candles lit…each one six inches tall, all flickering in rose-colored glass containers.
They surround a dark wine colored vase that holds six small two-toned pink carnations, at least eight to ten white daisies and other small white flowers that look like baby lilies. They look so serene.So carefree. So fresh and new.
At each end of the credenza enclosing the candles and the flowers, as if in the edges of a painting are two frames…in one frame on the left side is the picture of a lovely little tan cardinal, on the other side in the other frame is the larger magnificent red cardinal – the male.
She must be a bird lover.
• •••
“ I thought a credenza was a type of buffet used in a dining room?” I said as she came in with a tray, a bottle of unopened champagne and two champagne glasses. She had served cheese and crackers.
She laughed. “ Well, yes, but these days we use our imagination and make use of furniture in whatever way we need to. The word credenza has its roots in the Latin word credere, which means “to believe.” Then, in medieval Latin, the word became credentia and then in Italian credenza.You can pop the cork,” she said.“ I imagine you are an expert at opening Champagne.”
‘ I never did this,’I think to myself, smiling as I took the bottle and acting like I knew what I was doing.‘I had seen other people do it….I saw how they held the bottle so I got into position.’
“It is likely that the modern credenza was inspired by the credence, along table used in the Catholic Mass to hold items for the liturgy.”
‘For Christ’s sake, she’s a holy dervish or something like that?’I thought there was something odd about her.
“Its first known secular use was as a sideboard for nobility where food would be placed and taste-tested by servants for poison.”
At that moment, there was a resounding pop and some of the champagne ended on her face and mine.
Laughing she said…“You are so much fun . . . let’s celebrate!”
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Copyright All Rights Reserved 2016 Photo Credit: Elliot W. Lesser, 2016
