It occurs to me…

Anthony DeMello writes about the dangers of belief.  “As soon as you have a belief you have come to a conclusion about a person or situation or thing.  You have now become fixed and have dropped your sensitivity.  You are prejudiced and will see the person from the eye of that prejudice.  In other words, you will cease to see that person again.”

Wow! There’s a lot wrapped up in that.  But I do think I have to plead guilty as charged.  These preconceived notions are like an opaque film that keep me from seeing things as they are, and cause me to see things as I think they are.  And of course, I could be wrong.

From Jack Gilbert – Collected Poems

“We think of lifetimes as mostly the exceptional and sorrows.  Marriage we remember as the children, vacations, and emergencies.  The uncommon parts.  But the best is often when nothing is happening.  The way a mother picks up the child almost without noticing and carries her across Waller Street while talking with the other woman.  What if she could keep all of that?   Our lives happen between the memorable.”

Indeed.  It becomes easy to focus on the memorable, to become so focused on the milestones that the moments get lost.  Jesus was born in a manger and died on a cross, but what about that interaction with the Samaritan woman at the well – a thirsty man wanting a drink of water.  There was that 25^th wedding anniversary, but what about last night, sitting quietly on the front porch swing, thinking that life has been/is good!

Indeed, “our lives happen between the memorable” and “the best is often when nothing is happening.”  Something is always happening.

“Life in this world is a relay, and you never know who is handing you the baton.”  Julie Sellers

I heard this recently on a podcast and it hit home.  At times (not often enough) I am in the stands with a beer, just watching the race, but sometimes, I am on the track, tense, waiting for the baton.  But for all my planning and plotting, I really don’t ever know who will be handing me the baton.  I think of the opportunities missed because I was not wanting THAT baton.  How dare someone offer me an opportunity that was not quite in the color, form, and/or shape I wanted it to be.

Yes, the reality is that I never know who will be handing me the baton, and the quicker I accept that the baton can come from anywhere, the quicker I’ll have it in my hand.

“Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.”

It is easy to jump right past this first line of Max Ehrmann’s Desiderata, if for no other reason than there are so many nuggets that follow which grab the attention.  Still, it is worth pausing to ponder that first line.  It is, indeed, easy to get caught up in “the noise and haste,” to want to react or respond, either in kind or to ratchet it up a notch.  That in large part describes the antagonistic discourse that seems to prevalent these days – it is as if one side is intent on out-offending the other, each claiming the moral high ground as they do so.

This is, I think, the point of Ehrmann’s admonition – “remember what peace there may be in silence.”  There is, indeed, peace in silence.  No, silence is rarely showy, rarely dramatic (though it can be both in its own right) but the exercise of silence certainly tamps down the “noise and haste” – if only on one side.  Silence provides a gap in which emotions can subside.  Silence provides a crack through which reason might enter.  And you can, or course, resort to bombastic drivel there after if the silence thing doesn’t work.

Riveted – Robyn Sarah

It is possible that things will not get better than they are now, or have been known to be. It is possible that we are past the middle now.

It is possible that we have crossed the great water without knowing it, and stand now on the other side.

Yes: I think we have crossed it.  Now we are being given tickets, and they are not tickets to the show we had been thinking of, but to a different show, clearly inferior.

Check again: it is our own name on the envelope.  The tickets are to that other show.

It is possible that we will walk out of the darkened hall without waiting for the last act: people do.  Some people do.

But it is probable that we will stay seated in our narrow seats all throught he tedious denouement to the unsurprising end – riveted, as it were; spellbound by our own imperfect lives because they are lives, and because they are ours.

Photo taken recently when the clouds threatened a round of golf.

Much time and effort is spent on getting “enough,” much more time than trying to figure out how much is “enough.”  But in thinking about “enough” recently, it occurred to me that I am no stranger to “enough.”  No, “enough” is a spot I pass through often, in my trips between “too little” and “too much.”  In that sense, it is like that place alongside the highway that I pass by frequently, often thinking I ought to stop in sometime.  And when, after passing by it countless times, I finally stop, and find that I enjoy it, I wonder why I passed by it all these years, why it took me so long to stop.

“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.”  John 15:12

Anthony DeMello writes in The Way To Love of the three characteristics of love – love is indiscriminate, gracious, and not self-conscious.

Love is indiscriminate.  Think, DeMello implores us, of the rose, the light, and the tree.  The rose offers its fragrance to anyone, not to only those it deems “good” or “worthy,” but to all.  The light does not illuminate for the good only.  The tree offers its shade to all comers.  “Observe the marvelous change that comes over you the moment you stop seeing people as good and bad….  To see this is to acquire the indiscriminate quality one so admires in the rose, the lamp, and the tree.”

“What you were sure of yesterday, you know now to be false, but what you are sure of today is absolutely true.”  Mignon McLaughlin

This thought about the folly, the uncertainty, of certainty comes around in my head from time to time – but not often enough.  I have too many of those “What was I thinking?” revelations, most of which are best answered by the same reply – “Well, perhaps you weren’t!”  But boy, was I certain of them nonetheless!

Maybe certainty is assigned to some thought out of laziness.  The quest for truth seems like a lot of trouble when preconceived notions, stereotypes, and prejudices are so readily accessible.    I mean, who craves doubt?  Who wants uncertainty?  That quest for truth can require work!  What’s worse, it can require an open mind.  And you know what happens when you have an open mind – people keep wanting to put stuff in it.

Perhaps Voltaire has it about right: “Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd.”  It is [certainly] a good thing to develop and hold on to beliefs.  Yet it occurs to me that if past experience is any indicator, some things I am certain of today will, in time, be proven to be incorrect.  In fact, some are just rubbish.