A few days ago, I was discussing with a friend of mine how reluctant we are to let people truly know us. It brought to mind what an old friend once said about me, “he's tough to be friends with.” I am not sure how he meant this, but it has always stayed with me. It sounds an alarm whenever a friendship fades away or I miss an opportunity to know or share with someone. In fact, it has taken many years for his statement to truly penetrate my defenses. What I noticed was not so much my highly selective criteria for possible friendships; but rather, how I had simply become a notorious repeller of people. At first, I just accepted it as “how I am.” This new awareness actually added to my insular way of living. I continued this way until I met someone whose interaction with me changed how I related to others. He was the catalyst I needed to awaken me from my slumber and push me past my own inertia. The consequences of that push were to set me on a journey of spiritual evolution. A pilgrimage in everyday life where I seek balance, peace and love.
Sam never knew the effect he had on me. When I first met him, I thought nothing of it. Over the next few years, I learned he had traveled the world studying and performing music with many great musicians. Now in his late seventies, he had planted roots and was living out his life producing breathtaking performances for his local community. Everyone within a hundred miles knew of him, and he was well-loved. Whenever he was around, he was flocked with admirers and friends. In public, Sam was always a hit. Someone this popular would usually fall to my periphery, as I tend to focus on those less noticed. Sam fell into this category until he showed up at a volunteer meeting I was attending. We both took on a six-month project, which had us working closely together. During this period, surprisingly, Sam and I became friends. We talked endlessly and found we had many interests, experiences and ideas in common. For that period of time, I saw Sam differently. In addition to his other skills and talents, he was deep, compassionate, sensitive and caring. Yet even with my new insight, when the mission was over, I left behind our new friendship. He went back to his busy life, and I went back to mine.
A couple of weeks later, I ran into Sam. We talked briefly of our work and that was that. Then I ran into him again. This time we talked less of our work and more about everyday stuff. Throughout the next several months and into the next year, I bumped into him regularly. During these interludes, he began asking me about healthy eating. He remembered us talking about health and diet while we worked on our mission project. I had mentioned a particular place I liked to visit to shop and eat good organic food. When I mentioned this place again, he asked for directions. From that day on, every time I saw him he asked me about that store. Over and over again, he asked me the same questions. At first I thought he had nothing else to say, so he just talked about the last thing we discussed (either that or he was forgetful or horrible at directions). So each time, I politely told him again where it was and went on my way. This happened week after week to the point of frustration. My responses became increasingly obtuse. “Why does he keep asking me this?” I demanded. “It’s ridiculous!” Then as God and the universe does ever so quietly, a small light penetrated my thick skull leaving with me a doubt. “What if I am the one being ridiculous or obnoxious? What if he is actually reaching out to me, and I am ignoring him?”
Up until then, not meaning to, I had been concerned more about me than I was of him. With the attention turned, I began to evaluate this as a reflection of my life. I realized I have always been more occupied with me than with others. Aside from volunteering, I was guarded and closed off to people. My encounter with Sam lead me to a different place where I discovered three things. First I learned that the key to any kind of openness or intimacy is vulnerability. For me to be open to someone, I have to expose some portion of who I am. Secondly, I began to focus on what Jesus said in John 15.13, "No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends." You can add to this Mark 12.31, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." And thirdly, I realized that sincere love is not possessive—it has no expectations (I Cor. 13.4-5 & Brahmaviharas).
Caring for others is a selfless act. The key to selflessness is to cultivate love. To truly love others is to expect nothing in return. Love is unconditional. In order for this to happen, you must develop patience, acceptance and self-love. As I embarked on my journey, I came across a number of teachers who spoke of love in this manner. And while I cannot disclose in this post all the blessed ways I learned to achieve this type of love; I can, as an abridged reference, offer the verses above as well as the four “immeasurables minds” (Brahmaviharas) of Buddhism. The first immeasurable is lovingkindness, which is gentleness and benevolence toward others. The second one is compassion, which is concern for others and their burdens. The third is sympathetic joy, which is sharing in other’s happiness as well as your own. And the fourth is equanimity, which is finding inner balance through loving, accepting and forgiving yourself. For if you are not at peace with yourself, you cannot be at peace with others.
My next step was to contemplate the affect of others in my life. The most important dynamic to understand here is no one can control you. If I believe in myself and love myself, then what others say or do has no true baring. Only if I let it, does it. Next, I asked myself what is lost by others seeing me for who I am? This is not to say you allow everyone to see everything, but much of who I am is the same as who you are. It varies by degree or content, but we all feel and long for connection. Even Jesus was a little selective with what he shared at his gatherings and what he shared with his disciples. I am not saying you let everybody know everything equally. I just mean, the one thing we fear is rejection. But to be rejected, we have to ask for something. If I love without expectation, then I ask for nothing. Even if you run from me, my love stays. Granted, this does not fully cover mothers, fathers, siblings, children, spouses, or significant others. Those relationships are more complex in nature and fall under the “only share with” category (unless you are becoming a monastic of some kind). What it does cover, however, is how I view everyone else. All things have limits, we are still human, but in general, eighty percent of our lives probably can be shared with almost anyone. The other twenty percent is available to only a few (anything we would not share with anyone is not included here). I have tried to be less of a hermit and more open to what people are saying and feeling around me. Trying, at least, to listen enough and be kind enough to wish them well. It is the very essence of God to be a light and aid to others. If we do nothing more than show them a friendly smile, we have given them lovingkindness for a moment. And in the gloom, even a match light burns away the darkness.
When I began to question Sam's motives, I felt a great betrayal rest on my heart. I had done a reprehensible act by ignoring him. What if he was not just passing the time? What if he was lonely or disconnected and was hoping I would say, "Hey, why don't we go together?" Instead of asking him that, I had actually been blowing him off all this time. From that moment on, I had this sinking, panicky feeling. I told myself, I would ask him to have dinner with me the very next time I saw him. Our next meeting never came. Two weeks latter he died. I was devastated beyond words. As the news of his death became known, I heard stories of his life and learned that during his past few years; all of his acquaintances, accomplishments, and popularity had not given him what he longed for—just plain ol’good friends. Because he had stayed so busy, no one noticed. I noticed too late. I told myself, I would never be late again—not if I could help it.
As the nature of most people is to mistrust, many will not understand your sudden burst of kindness or openness. They may suspect you of trying to deceive them. But for some, and perhaps many, it will make all the difference to them. It will make their lives better. If it is even one person, then is that not enough to try for everyone. Mother Teresa was asked once how she was able to help the severely poor and infirm of Calcutta. She replied that each one of them is “Christ in a distressing disguise.” We have to see ourselves in the other person. Everyone is a part of God. Everyone is a part of everyone else. When we help them, we help ourselves. When we love unconditionally, we find a new way of being. We find a new source of positive energy. We find peace. When we show lovingkindness and love without expectation, we serve others, we serve ourselves; and, most importantly, we serve God.
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
March 3, 2011
October 20, 2010
September 11, 2010
Remembering The Day
Today, nine years after 9/11, the shock and disbelief still overwhelms me. The pain and ache of all those lives and the tragedy which took them from us still bores a hollow into my soul. Even now the struggle to find meaning and understanding comes up empty. As a world population, our future is alight with the potential cruelty of man upon his neighbor. Given our human capacity for evil, this should not surprise us. Still that day caught us off guard. Everything happening since has been a scramble to regain what we lost—our sense of stability. We are unsure of what will happen or who will leap out at us next. Fear creeps into our lives a little more easily than it did on 9/10.
Recently, I spoke with a concerned individual regarding all the events happening in these times. He was troubled by what was occurring and his inability to exact change. While our perspectives differed on various issues, we both agreed that the best one can do to change the world is to help our local communities. Taking care of and looking after our neighbor with genuine love and compassion is the best cure for hatred and poverty. To heal the world around us, we must first heal each other. Our community may be our neighborhood, our work or our school. It may be our family, our synagogue, our temple, our mosque, or our church. Also, it could be an orphanage in Russia or flood victims in Pakistan. It may even be the women and children of Afghanistan.
Loving our neighbor as our self is a tough pill to swallow. Loving our enemy is an even tougher pill. Yet, understanding the true need at the heart of a tragedy, albeit difficult, is our duty as humans. We transcend the very nature of darkness by finding the light. We are often put off by the affliction such events inflict on our fellow man, but we must step back and see ourselves as God sees us. We are all hurting, afraid and in need of love. For those of us who feel useless in the efforts to help, look only to the person beside you. Start there. Show as much love as you can. Feed, cloth and lend a hand when possible. We become most like God when we face evil and act out of love.
To all the families and friends who lost loved ones on 9/11, and to all families and friends who have lost loved ones to terrorism, our hearts beat with yours. We hold you close and offer you our love and support. May their memories live on in our hearts. May you gain new strength each day. May God bless you deeply.
Grace, Peace and Love,
The Acacia Tree
Recently, I spoke with a concerned individual regarding all the events happening in these times. He was troubled by what was occurring and his inability to exact change. While our perspectives differed on various issues, we both agreed that the best one can do to change the world is to help our local communities. Taking care of and looking after our neighbor with genuine love and compassion is the best cure for hatred and poverty. To heal the world around us, we must first heal each other. Our community may be our neighborhood, our work or our school. It may be our family, our synagogue, our temple, our mosque, or our church. Also, it could be an orphanage in Russia or flood victims in Pakistan. It may even be the women and children of Afghanistan.
Loving our neighbor as our self is a tough pill to swallow. Loving our enemy is an even tougher pill. Yet, understanding the true need at the heart of a tragedy, albeit difficult, is our duty as humans. We transcend the very nature of darkness by finding the light. We are often put off by the affliction such events inflict on our fellow man, but we must step back and see ourselves as God sees us. We are all hurting, afraid and in need of love. For those of us who feel useless in the efforts to help, look only to the person beside you. Start there. Show as much love as you can. Feed, cloth and lend a hand when possible. We become most like God when we face evil and act out of love.
To all the families and friends who lost loved ones on 9/11, and to all families and friends who have lost loved ones to terrorism, our hearts beat with yours. We hold you close and offer you our love and support. May their memories live on in our hearts. May you gain new strength each day. May God bless you deeply.
Grace, Peace and Love,
The Acacia Tree
November 19, 2009
Know Your Neighbor
The beauty of community is it can be any where. Often, though, we look beyond our local one to the more elusive and exotic ones. We sojourners often travel six thousand miles to help people of alien culture, language and modes of thinking. When we return, we are proud and feel accomplished. We find it quite compelling to give to children in Africa or to adopt children from China. But what of next door? We look at our homeless friend and feel sorry for him, but do we help? "No," is the usual honest response. We find thousands of impediments as to why we cannot or will not. How is it we can find compassion abroad but not at home? If this is a fair question, you might reply with, "compassion abroad is impersonal." To help the persons I see everyday or know live in my city is grossly personal. This manner of helping requires love. The depth of suffering we endure emotionally, in our society, has hardened our altruism toward the others of us. Worse still is a rising hatred or demarcation between what one believes and what another believes. Right "wing" vs Left "wing". Muslim "terrorist" vs Christian "fundamentalist". Buddhist vs Communist. Gay vs Straight. We forget each human being is us and we are them. By reading articles on Obamahate and passive Elderlyabuse, we have examples of how easy we find it to arouse animosity toward another person or kind.
What then is the criteria for love? Perhaps the better question is what obstructs our path to love? Selfishness perhaps. That, of course, cannot be all. Is it some force which interferes with our connectivity? How often do we want to do thing "A", but in fact do thing "B". What makes us do thing "B"? Is it the mere move toward modernity. Jacques Ellul suggests technology will rise to tyranny over humankind (if it hasn't already). You might see from this an argument toward a new tension within ourselves. We struggle—but with what? The improbable conquering of our technology returning it to a subset of human living. Is it too big? Are we instead struggling to be apart of it? You could say by addressing ourselves in the light of new communication standards, we are creating pockets of protection. We speak with many, but love none. I can satisfy my need for human contact while, simultaneously, blocking their ability to harm me. I need only turn to my new socially mediated "friend". "I will hurt no more," we say.
Our lives have become unbalanced. We have no room for love because we have no room. We choose that which is safe for us. The psychology of our imbalance overwhelms our sense of the other. This statement precludes our ability to love—or not—ourselves first. We are personally overwhelmed, so we invent new satisfaction separate from what is true. Truth here is love. Love of my fellowbeing. A respect for life and the betterment of you. If I watch out for you as much or more than myself, then I open a window into what is transcendental about life. How real is that statement? Let us accept we cannot be God. Let us suppose we can, however, reach an individual divinity. What use is it if we arrive there alone? Only when we are at peace can we truly began to love ourselves and others. It is at such a time when we can build new communities (even if idealist in nature), new relationships, new love.
Namaste.
What then is the criteria for love? Perhaps the better question is what obstructs our path to love? Selfishness perhaps. That, of course, cannot be all. Is it some force which interferes with our connectivity? How often do we want to do thing "A", but in fact do thing "B". What makes us do thing "B"? Is it the mere move toward modernity. Jacques Ellul suggests technology will rise to tyranny over humankind (if it hasn't already). You might see from this an argument toward a new tension within ourselves. We struggle—but with what? The improbable conquering of our technology returning it to a subset of human living. Is it too big? Are we instead struggling to be apart of it? You could say by addressing ourselves in the light of new communication standards, we are creating pockets of protection. We speak with many, but love none. I can satisfy my need for human contact while, simultaneously, blocking their ability to harm me. I need only turn to my new socially mediated "friend". "I will hurt no more," we say.
Our lives have become unbalanced. We have no room for love because we have no room. We choose that which is safe for us. The psychology of our imbalance overwhelms our sense of the other. This statement precludes our ability to love—or not—ourselves first. We are personally overwhelmed, so we invent new satisfaction separate from what is true. Truth here is love. Love of my fellowbeing. A respect for life and the betterment of you. If I watch out for you as much or more than myself, then I open a window into what is transcendental about life. How real is that statement? Let us accept we cannot be God. Let us suppose we can, however, reach an individual divinity. What use is it if we arrive there alone? Only when we are at peace can we truly began to love ourselves and others. It is at such a time when we can build new communities (even if idealist in nature), new relationships, new love.
Namaste.
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