The Wonderment

The Marathon

Some men exercise their religion for a little while in the morning, or in the evening; walk it out for a few moments and let it take the air, or give it a turn on Sundays; but this is all. What an emaciated, dyspeptic, valetudinarian sort of religion is this! This great gospel is not a cramped, feeble, narrow thing of times and seasons, but wherever God can be worshipped or humanity be served, or the spirit of love manifested, there is the work of true religion…These are but the chances of a single day; but how numerous and how pregnant would they become if we would but set our hearts upon their discovery.” – E.H. Chapin, “Chances in Life”, Providence in Life.

Edwin Hubbell Chapin was one of the great late Nineteenth Century Universalist preachers; the way he expressed his love of life and our very human opportunity to discover daily both the chance to serve humanity and to worship the Beloved moves me every time I reread him.

Every act of kindness is an act of loveliness. Every person is the presence of Love waiting for us to act. Every moment of human caused pain is a moment for us to be midwives to transformation. But to be present in that pain is strenuous labor, and why Chapin reminds us that practicing our religion – our values and what we worship – is muscular, large, and sacrificing.

Guide my feet, while I run this race. Guide my feet, while I run this race. Guide my feet, while I run this race, for I don’t want to run this race in vain.

That traditional spiritual bubbles up from inside me when I’m being called to practice my religion and my spiritual muscles are sore, my heart tired, my lungs aching.  We know we are exercising our religion when the going is tough. It is easy enough to focus on the loveliness, to bask in the loveliness, to submit to the sublimity. But the test of any person and any religion and any value is when we are marathoning at the edge of our endurance.

Search my heart, while I run this race. Search my heart, while I run this race. Search my heart, while I run this race, for I don’t want to run this race in vain.

The service of humanity is noble and large and given how much of humanity expects things to be easy and come easy and yet stay truly, we need our spiritual friends with whom we exercise these values. We need to be with people who can observe us kindly and slow the pace when necessary and spur us on when necessary. These are the people we cherish, the relationships formed in training on the road, strengthening as our spiritual muscles are exercised, exerting for justice and mercy and love and then, panting, exulting in the glorious gifts of this life. To our spiritual friends, we sing. 

Hold my hand, while I run this race. Hold my hand, while I run this race.
Hold my hand, while I run this race, for I don’t want to run this race in vain.

This great spiritual arose from the experience of slavery and not knowing when the suffering would cease, but in listening to Paul’s words of encouragement to Timothy, taking those words and extending the metaphor. Fight the good fight, finish the race, keep the faith.

Every day we rise to celebrate the beauty and goodness of this life, we also rise to the suffering in this world, some of which we undoubtedly created, often inadvertently, often with better intentions. One does not have to read the paper or see the news to encounter the many opportunities for us to exercise our spirit and values in justice and mercy and love; one merely needs to show up and observe and listen what is going on in one’s own heart and in the people with which one lives, in the city and the country, in the school and the workplace, in the long, long lines of sadness by the soup kitchen and under the overpasses, in the quiet desperation of kitchens and roadsides. Each of us alone cannot possibly do everything, carry this entire world alone. But each of us does not have to. All of us together make a difference, slowly and sometimes imperceptibly, until evidence is made real in smiles and tears and hope and another person striving for joy.

Stand by me, while I run this race. Stand by me, while I run this race. Stand by me, while I run this race, for I don’t want to run this race in vain.

Beloveds, the song guides us on our way, and though the way may be long, what we do does indeed matter. May you find blessings in your marathon today.

The Last Drop

Numbered among life’s many pleasures, I submit, is a cup of fragrant, steaming peppermint tea to be enjoyed during sunset while the birds clamor to their roosts and the day’s dusts make for multicolored splendor on the horizon. But then, I find cold mint tea to also be refreshing, especially mixed with lemon or lime and over ice on a day when sweating is impossible because the air is so wet it already clings to you and so hot even the lizards have sought shade.

All hail the mint family: tough, hairy-leaved plants that thrive in wretched conditions and fine and have long been known as folk simples: medicinal plants that work hard with a variety of conditions. These are the fragrant mints and they are much to be praised as a soother of tired muscles, sore throats, upset tummies, hot feet, and persnickety feelings.

The most celebrated mint at the moment, however, is not one of the fragrant mints, but it is a refreshing reminder of the value of paying attention to the least among us. Yes, I’m writing of the Moloka’i mint, Phyllostegia hispida, just added to the United States endangered species list, as of March 17, 2009. This little creeping mint is a terrific example of evolution in action and the way that specialized environments separated by great differences encourage greater diversity.  At this point, P.hispida, one of the most resilient and aggressive plant families ever known is not able to actively reproduce, probably because its required, specialized pollinator is, scientists suspect, gone. (P. hispida, 9082 Federal Register/Vol. 73, No. 33/Tuesday, February 19, 2008).

Cultivating an awareness of the wonderment of this world in which we live is a life-long and multifaceted endeavor. Paying attention to what is easy to overlook and take for granted is one of these basic practices. It is easy to be caught up in the drama of life – and it is more challenging to move out of the androcentric drama and into the amazement of all of life on this planet. Contemplating the sunset as the birds clamor in their roosts, palate alive with mint, or contemplating a tiny mint that evolved in a highly specialized eco-system found only on the north side of the island of Moloka’i, we cultivate amazement and gratitude for the many splendors of this life.

Living in joy, we turn our attention to the small things, the simple things, and we discover a space inside for gratitude to the very last drop.

Happy Earth Day!

Winged Epaulets

“I once had a sparrow alight upon my shoulder for a moment, while I was hoeing in a village garden, and I felt I was more distinguished by that circumstance than I should have been by any epaulet I could have worn.” – Henry David Thoreau

I find myself lost in tedium at times. I pick up my metaphorical hoe and head to the village garden, and prepare, once again, to weed. There is a rhythm to hoeing that can be comforting, and with a song, a wide brimmed hat, and a comfortable breeze, a spot of hoeing every now and then is a fine thing. The tedium, as with any activity, comes with the weights of compulsion and repetition. Oh, it is Monday, a day of reports and details tracked down, noted, delivered; a weekend full of emails to return because few among us keep a Sabbath where the email and the mobile phone go into the Sabbath box and work creeps like strangling vines into everything and everywhere. The great problem for me with the state of tedium is that I am not ready, when surprised, to experience wonder. When I am lost in tedium, surprises are greeted with suspicion, even fear.

One dog barks, startled by the wind banging a door closed, and retreats for safety. Another dog rises, tail wagging, to see what the wind has brought. Someone other than Thoreau might have been as surprised by the sparrow, but have reacted very differently, with anger and fear, hands flying up to brush off the bird and wave it away. Both experiences begin with surprise: but one tumbles to fear and the other to wonder. Which way would you prefer to live?

A visitor to the world in which I live would be pardoned for believing that ennui is a desirable state, for all the people wandering around expressing it, seemingly competing for who is in a greater state of spiritual-emotional lassitude, as if the worst off among us truly wins. I fall prey to this state myself, and my spiritual work is to observe this falling and decide to detour to foolishness instead. Fools are those among us who are caught up smiling in the birdsong, find pleasure in the ways our neighbor’s eyes crinkle in returning a smile and wave proffered and a basket of warm scones, dance at the bus stop, and follow the cracks in the pavement as a grand adventure unfolds. The fools’ route unfolds one experience of gratitude, of amazement at the blessedness of this miracle called life, after another. I choose the fools’ route -- laughter, energy, delight – what do I have to lose? Choosing the route of fools requires my willingness to let go of the judgment that foolishness is not serious business, that foolishness is neither the purpose nor an entirely wholesome and adult component of living. I subscribed to that belief for some years, and they were some miserable years, entitled years.

Lost in the tedium – compulsory, repetitive tasks – I yearn for the sweet breeze and the unexpected gift of wonder to return. A wild bird alighting on your shoulder, a lizard pausing on your leg, a butterfly fluttering onto your hand startle us into the gift in which we are still living. Yes, there is tedium. Yes, there is compulsion and repetition, and quite a lot to life that can become dull…if we allow that to happen. I have learned no human being is entitled to money, fame, power, health, or control. But we are entitled to what we have when we can have nothing of the great worldly acclaim: joy, gratitude, connection, meaning, purpose, love, and wonder. We will have suffering whether we desire it or not. But only we can decide to live in gratitude and in wonder, no matter what.

The next time the sparrow lands on your shoulder, what will you feel?