Today it is revolutionary to care, to love, to feel joy. Sometimes we may feel ashamed to express joy when so many are suffering terribly. When asked if it was OK to be happy when there’s so much suffering happening, Roshi Bernie Glassman said, “I think it’s a requirement to be full of joy in the midst of suffering”. He talked about how Wavy Gravy, friend of the Grateful Dead, has a manuscript of humor written by inmates in Auschwitz. If inmates in Auschwitz and find humor I believe we can also.
In this age of anxiety as we witness a crisis of selfishness, cruelty and lack of regard for the well-being of others unfold before our eyes, often feeling helpless to stop it, we need to find ways to soothe ourselves. We soothe ourselves, not to turn our backs on the suffering, but to replenish our reserve of hope in the basic goodness of life so that we can continue to advocate for love. We are being challenged to bring our best selves to the task and to never give up. In the words of John Lewis, “Be hopeful. Be optimistic. Never lose that sense of hope.” In order to do this we need to continually replenish our reserves.
This month I’d like to share the simple words of Mary Oliver with you. These are my practice words when I loose my grounding:
Instructions for Living a Life
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.
The picture above is by Chiura Obata, one of my favorite artists. Chiura Obata was a Japanese American artist teaching in Berkeley California in the 1940’s. After the bombing of Pearl Harbor Japanese citizens were rounded up and sent to internment camps. Innocent citizens became the face of an enemy threatening our life and values, not unlike how the new immigrants are being targeted now. While at the internment camp Obata developed an art school for his fellow detainees and painted over 200 brilliant paintings. He used art to his lift the spirits of his people reminding them of the beauty of their culture and applying the natural world to their wounds.
I’m on board with the realization that everything that is living dies, that all things and thoughts have their life span and then pass. But the empty space left when someone we love is no longer there, someone we will never see again, is not something I can grasp with my mind.
Like many others, I have become enchanted by the series Love on the spectrum. If you haven’t yet seen it, it follows a number of young men and women who are on the autism spectrum as they date and find love. Being on the spectrum they lack the social filters those who are neuro-typical have. They say what is on their mind and their feelings are strong and on display. Not having the typical filters, they don’t manipulate or play games with their feelings. When they listen they take the time to really listen before responding honestly. They sit in their uncomfortable silences. Like all of us, they want to love and be loved. My friend said these are the real indigo children. I believe that is very likely true.
