What Might Happen

There's an old Egyptian story about a little boy named Miobi who came to a village where the people were very strange. They did little more than moan and groan about almost everything. The fires didn't get lit, the goats didn't get milked, the children didn't get clothed, and the crops didn't get planted, all because the villagers were expecting any time to get eaten by the monster that lived on top of the mountain.

Miobi looked up, and behold — the monster was real. He had a head like a crocodile and a body like a hippopotamus and a tail like a very fat snake. Smoke and fire came from his nostrils. The villagers lived in dread that any day the monster might come down and devour them.

Miobi said to the villagers, "I will go up the mountain by myself and challenge the monster." The villagers pleaded with him not to go, sure that he would never return. Miobi began to climb the mountain, and as he climbed higher and higher and got nearer and nearer, the monster looked smaller and smaller. "This is a very curious phenomenon indeed," thought Miobi. "When I run away from the monster, the monster gets larger, but the nearer I get to it, the smaller it becomes."

When at last Miobi reached the cave, instead of a gigantic monster, he found a quiet little creature about the size of a toad. It purred. Miobi picked it up and put it in his pocket and headed back down the mountain.

When the villagers saw Miobi safe and sound, they wanted to make him their god for slaying the monster. Miobi explained exactly what had happened and how he had brought the "monster" back down the mountain as a pet. He showed them the little-toad like creature. "What is your name?" the villagers asked. The monster answered, "I have many names. Some call me famine, and some pestilence; some call me war, and some cancer." Then the little creature yawned and added, "But most call me What Might Happen."

— R. Wayne Willis in Hope Notes

The Size of Our Problems

LOOK at the camels first and then read the message below.







 
 


This is a picture taken from directly above  these camels in the desert at sunset.  It is considered to be one of  the best pictures of the year.  When you look closely, you can see  that the camels are  the little white lines in the picture.  
The black images you see are just the  shadows!

Sometimes, our "problems" seem to be as big as the shadows...but they are little.

Attitude

Attitude




There once was a woman who woke up one morning, looked in the mirror,


and noticed she had only three hairs on her head.


'Well,' she said, 'I think I'll braid my hair today.'


So she did and she had a wonderful day.





The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror


and saw that she had only two hairs on her head.


'H-M-M,' she said, 'I think I'll part my hair down the middle today.'


So she did and she had a grand day.





The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed


that she had only one hair on her head.


'Well,' she said, 'today I'm going to wear my hair in a pony tail.'


So she did, and she had a fun, fun day.




The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and


noticed that there wasn't a single hair on her head.


'YAY!' she exclaimed. 'I don't have to fix my hair today!'




Attitude is everything.



Be kinder than necessary,


for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle. Live simply, Love generously, Care deeply, Speak kindly, and reflect continually. Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...



It's about learning to dance in the rain.
Its about Enjoying the rain while it pours on our faces.




It's not what you gather, but what you scatter that tells what kind of life you have lived. 

Life is too short to wake up with regrets.

Love the people who treat you right and be kind to the ones who don’t.

 

Making Life a Prayer

From Weavings Newsletter April 2011

Making Life a Prayer

The nature of the soul is aptly compared to a very fine feather or very light wing. If it has not been damaged or spoiled by any moisture falling on it, it is borne aloft almost naturally to the heights of heaven by the lightness of its nature and the aid of the slightest breath. But if it is weighted by any moisture falling upon it and penetrating it, it will not only not be carried away by its natural lightness into any aerial flights but will actually be dragged down to the depths of earth by the weight of the moisture it has received.
So also the soul, if it is not weighted with faults that touch it and the cares of this world or damaged by the moisture of injurious lusts, will be raised by the natural blessing of its own purity and borne aloft to the heights by the light breath of spiritual meditation. Leaving things low and earthly, it will be transported to those that are heavenly  and invisible.

So we are well warned by the Lord's command: "Be on your guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkeness and the worries of this life." If we want our prayers to reach not only the sky but what is beyond the sky, let us be careful to reduce the soul, purged from all earthly faults and purified from every strain, to its natural lightness. Then our prayers may rise to God unchecked by the weight of any sin.

Cassian uses the image of feathers to describe the soul in prayer. What images of prayer and the soul are meaningful to you?

[1] John Cassian,  Making Life a Prayer: Selected Writings of John Cassian, ed. Keith Beasley-Topliffe, Upper Room Spiritual Classics, (Nashville: Upper Room Books), 49.

Abide in Me

Abide in Me

"Abiding" has its roots in a love of God so great that all other loves fall by the wayside, a love that fills the heart so completely that it leaves no room for any other love. This love first arises as a response to God's own creating, redeeming, and sustaining love. It springs up in those who have found the hidden treasure and the pearl of greatest price, and have gladly abandoned all else for the sake of this: the love of God at the center of all things.
It is when we have been taken captive by this love that we learn to "abide in Jesus," to open ourselves constantly to his presence and to be constantly present to him, and to persist under any pressure and against all other inducements in this inexhaustible devotion and joyful allegiance. We have found something we can no longer do without, and whether it leads us to the desert, to ministry among those most in need, or simply to a deepened and transformed sense of our choices in daily life, it will ultimately always lead us in some sense apart from the world. There, in our own forests and caves (whatever these may be), let us remain persistent, resolute, constantly abiding in him.

[1]  This excerpt comes from David Rensberger's article "Persisting in Presence" from Weavings "Abide in Me" XXII/2, March/April 2007.

In Thinking, Just Thinking

When you close your eyes, start watching your breath, and random thoughts start popping up.


You will them to stop, but they don't.

At some point you realize... those thoughts aren't you. They can't be, as your intent/will is that they do not arise and they pop up regardless. They're conditioned arisings, and they belong to no one.

The internal monologue in your head isn't you thinking, it's thoughts that are perceived in your body's voice, because you think that they're you, that they represent your self/soul.

Try changing the voice to any other voice, and immediately it's just thought (not self).
Same goes for feelings, for perceptions, for the body, and eventually for all forms of consciousness/awareness itself. It all goes eventually (as being thought of as "self"), seen as belonging to no one and arising/passing due to conditions, causal interactions with the other aggregates internal and external.

There is thinking, no one thinking

There is hearing, no one hearing

There is seeing, no one seeing



In thinking, just thoughts

In hearing, just sounds

In seeing, just forms, shapes and colours.



HT: Punna

Forest Monks and Dhutanga

Dhutanga (Known in Thai as "tudong") is a group of thirteen austerities, or ascetic practices, most commonly observed by Forest Monastics of the Theravada Tradition of Buddhism.

All Forest Monks will observe at least one of the dhutanga austerities. The dhutanga austerities are meant to deepen the practice of meditation and assist in living the Holy Life. Their aim is to help the practitioner to develop detachment with material things including the body.

The thirteen dhutanga practices

1. paµsukúla (Abandoned Robes) - this is the austerity of using any cloth found on the road as material for making robes.

2. tecívarika (Three Robes) - this is the austerity of only using the three robes of a bhikkhu as garments.

3. pišðapáta (Begged Food) - this is the austerity of eating only what one gains on almsround (pindapata), whether it be a little or a lot or even nothing at all. NB: bhikkhus do not beg per se, since they are not allowed under Monastic rules (Vinaya) to ask/beg for food. He gives an opportunity for laypeople to OFFER food to him for the good of both the Monk, the laity and the sasana. The bhikkhu observing this dhutanga declines invitations to take meals at the houses of Lay people.

4. sapadánacárika (Regular Alms round) - this is the austerity where if a bhikkhu gains tasty food from a particular house on his almsround, then he avoids that house in future

5. ekásanika (One eating) - this is the austerity where the bhikkhu will eat only in one place and not eat a little in one spot and then eat more in another.

6. pattapišðika (Measured food) - this is the austerity of eating only a certain measure of food. The bhikkhu sees fault in indulging his appetite.

7. khalupacchábhattika (no longer accepting any extra food after having started to take the meal) - this is the austerity of no longer accepting any extra food after having started to take the meal

8. áraññika (Dwelling in a peaceful place) - this is the austerity where the bhikkhu does not dwell in a village or noisy temple. This is meant to help with meditation, as it is very hard to meditate in a noisy place.

9. rukkhamúla (Dwelling under a tree) - this is the austerity of not dwelling under a roof.

10. abbhokásika (Dwelling in a dewy place) - this is the austerity of dwelling neither under a roof or a tree, but in the open

11. susánika (Dwelling among the graves) - this is the austerity of living/dwelling in a cemetery. NB cemeteries in Ancient & modern India often have corpses left out in the open or only partially cremated. Also places where ghosts & malevolent spirits were known to inhabit...a frightening place.

12. yathásantatika (Any chanced upon place) - this is the austerity of at the end of a days walking/wandering to sleep wherever the bhikkhu happened to be so long as it was safe.

13. nesajjika (Always sitting and not lying down) - this is the austerity of not sleeping stretched out. Usually the bhikkhu sleeps propped against a wall or even in the meditation posture.

HT: Punna

Priorities

There was a monastery that was renowned for its hospitality, a welcoming place for many weary travelers in need of rest. One day while the abbot was deep in prayer, an angel appeared, surrounded by golden light. The abbot gazed in rapt contemplation and was filled with a peace beyond measure. Suddenly a series of heavy knocks resounded on the front door. "It is some weary traveler come to find shelter," the abbot said to himself. "What should I do? If I go and answer the door, the angel might disappear. If I stay, who will care for the traveler?"
Reluctantly the abbot rose, looked resignedly at the angel, and left the room in order to attend to the needs of the dust-stained traveler.
When he returned to his cell, the angel, to the abbot's great surprise, was still there. The angel said to him, "Had you not gone to help the needy traveler, I myself would have been compelled to leave."



— Joan Chittister in 40 Stories to Stir the Soul

The Spirituality of Body Talk

Talk to Your Body

The body is your only home in the universe. It is your house of belonging here in the world. It is a very sacred temple. To spend time in silence before the mystery of your body brings you toward wisdom and holiness. It is unfortunate that often only when we are ill do we realize how tender, fragile, and precious is the house of belonging called the body. When you visit people who are ill or who are awaiting surgery, you can encourage them to have a conversation with the body area that is unwell. Suggest that they talk to it as a partner, thank it for all it has done, for what it has suffered, and ask forgiveness of it for whatever pressure it may have had to endure. Each part of the body holds the memory of its own experience.

Your body is, in essence, a crowd of different members who work in harmony to make your belonging in the world possible. We should avoid the false dualism that separates the soul from the body. The soul is not simply within the body, hidden somewhere within its recesses. The truth is rather the converse. Your body is in the soul, and the soul suffuses you completely. Therefore, all around you there is a secret and beautiful soul-light.

— John O'Donohue in Anam Cara

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Animals and Us

Honor the Dignity, Beauty, and Wisdom of the Animal World

The animals are more ancient than us. They were here for millennia before humans surfaced on the earth. Animals are our ancient brothers and sisters. They enjoy a seamless presence — a lyrical unity with the earth. Animals live outside in the wind, in the waters, in the mountains, and in the clay. The knowing of the earth is in them. The Zen-like silence and thereness of the landscape is mirrored in the silence and solitude of animals. Animals know nothing of Freud, Jesus, Buddha, Wall Street, the Pentagon, or the Vatican. They live outside the politics of human intention. Somehow they already inhabit the eternal. The Celtic mind recognized the ancient belonging and knowing of the animal world. The dignity, beauty, and wisdom of the animal world was not diminished by any false hierarchy or human arrogance. Somewhere in the Celtic mind was a grounding perception that humans are the inheritors of this deeper world.

— John O'Donohue in Anam Cara

Inner Wellspring

You can never love another person unless you are equally involved in the beautiful but difficult spiritual work of learning to love yourself. There is within each of us, at the soul level, an enriching fountain of love. In other words, you do not have to go outside yourself to know what love is. This is not selfishness, and it is not narcissism; they are negative obsessions with the need to be loved. Rather this is a wellspring of love within the heart. . . .

If you find that your heart has hardened, one of the gifts that you should give yourself is the gift of the inner wellspring. You should invite this inner fountain to free itself. You can work on yourself in order to unsilt this, so that gradually the nourishing waters begin in a lovely osmosis to infuse and pervade the hardened clay of your heart. Then the miracle of love happens within you. Where before there was hard, bleak, unyielding, dead ground, now there is growth, color, enrichment, and life flowing from the lovely wellspring of love. This is one of the most creative approaches to transfiguring what is negative within us.

— John O'Donohue in Anam Cara

Anam Cara-Soul Friend

In the Celtic tradition, there is a beautiful understanding of love and friendship. One of the fascinating ideas here is the idea of soul-love; the old Gaelic term for this is anam cara. Anam is the Gaelic word for soul and cara is the word for friend. So anam cara in the Celtic world was the "soul friend."

In the early Celtic church, a person who acted as a teacher, companion, or spiritual guide was called an anam cara. It originally referred to someone to whom you confessed, revealing the hidden intimacies of your life. With the anam cara you could share your innermost self, your mind and your heart. This friendship was an act of recognition and belonging. When you had an anam cara, your friendship cut across all convention, morality, and category. You were joined in an ancient and eternal way with the "friend of your soul."

The Celtic understanding did not set limitations of space or time on the soul. There is no cage for the soul. The soul is a divine light that flows into you and into your Other. This art of belonging awakened and fostered a deep and special companionship. In his Conferences, John Cassian says this bond between friends is indissoluble: "This, I say, is what is broken down by no chances, what no interval of time or space can sever or destroy, and what even death itself cannot part."

— John O'Donohue in Anam Cara

more about this in my musings The blessings of spiritual friends

Embrace Your Inner World

Embrace the World that Lives Inside You

It is strange to be here. The mystery never leaves you alone. Behind your image, below your words, above your thoughts, the silence of another world waits. A world lives within you. No one else can bring you news of this inner world. Through the opening of the mouth, we bring out sounds from the mountain beneath the soul. These sounds are words. The world is full of words. There are so many talking all the time, loudly, quietly, in rooms, on streets, on television, on radio, in the paper, in books. The noise of words keeps what we call the world there for us. We take each other's sounds and make patterns, predictions, benedictions, and blasphemies. Each day, our tribe of language holds what we call the world together. Yet the uttering of the word reveals how each of us relentlessly creates. Everyone is an artist. Each person brings sound out of silence and coaxes the invisible to become visible.

— John O'Donohue in Anam Cara

More about John O'Donohue here and here.

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Eliot on Waiting

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.

— T. S. Eliot, from “East Coker,” The Four Quartets

Impermanence

ONCE in Persia ruled a king
Who upon his signet ring
‘Graved a motto true and wise,
Which, when held before his eyes,
Gave him counsel at a glance
Fit for any change or chance.
Solemn words, and these were they:
“Even this shall pass away.”

Trains of camel through the sand
Brought him gems from Samarkand;
Fleets of galleys through the seas
Brought him pearls to rival these.
Yet he counted little gain
Treasures of the mine or main.
“Wealth may come, but not to stay;
Even this shall pass away.”

‘Mid the revels of his court,
In the zenith of his sport,
When the palms of all his guests,
Burned with clapping at his jests,
He, amid his figs and wine,
Cried: “Oh, precious friends of mine,
Pleasure comes, but not to stay —
Even this shall pass away.”

Lady, fairest ever seen,
Was the bride he crowned his queen.
Pillowed on his marriage bed
Softly to his soul he said:
“Though no bridegroom ever pressed
Fairer bosom to his breast,
Mortal flesh must come to clay —
Even this shall pass away.”

Fighting in a furious field,
Once a javelin pierced his shield,
Soldiers with a loud lament
Bore him bleeding to his tent.
Groaning, from his wounded side,
“Pain is hard to bear,” he cried.
“But, with patience, day by day,
Even this shall pass away.”

Towering in the public square,
Twenty cubits in the air,
Rose his status grand in stone;
And the king, disguised, unknown,
Gazing on his sculptured name,
Asked himself: “And what is fame?
Fame is but a slow decay —
Even this shall pass away.”

Struck with palsy, sere and old,
Standing at the gates of gold,
Spake him this, in dying breath:
“Life is done, and what is death?”
Then, in answer to the king,
Fell a sunbeam on the ring,
Answering, with its heavenly ray:
“Even death shall pass away.”

HT: Punna