In a corner of my life I care for people who are dying, and my participation in this community called Zen Hospice Project has taken on large meaning for me. Sitting at the bedside of someone who is working hard at breathing and finding comfort and peace is a reminder of where we all are going, a huge teaching about the importance of living fully in our present moment, breathing as much life into that moment as we can....
All that we really have is this. My trip to Venice is gone, likewise my adventures in Africa, India, and Bhutan, my 60th birthday, my marriage, the great movie I saw last week, my most perfect dog, the meal I ate last night. Poof! Everything goes. Returning to the present moment appears to be the only real experience we have.
Tomorrow I will have a birthday and it is with mixed emotions that I anticipate it, probably because I see this arbitrary number as something that is in itself "real," that signifies a certain place on the continuum of life, and reminds me that the continuum is moving more and more rapidly toward an uncertain end. If I were to look at that birthday as a reminder of the amazing fact of being born into this life, instead of an arrow pointing the way to its end, I would feel quite differently, perhaps even celebratory! I WAS BORN 66 years ago, and have had some remarkable events and conditions in my life that have filled me with thought, emotion, vision, energy -- that have in essence shaped this being I call Mag. And always the opportunities for learning and awareness and connection have been my companions on the journey; when I return to the present I see all of this so clearly.
This dark winter has filled me lately with melancholy, the waves of loneliness nudging me here and there in a daunting landscape that reminds me of a windy moor in a British novel. I turn on a lot of lights in the evening, and make myself a lovely kosher chicken saute with lots of rosemary and garlic, and as I feed myself slowly I can feel the gratitude settling in, pushing aside sadness. It is all HERE, NOW, isn't it? The Rumi poem about treating everything as a guest comes to mind, the reminder to invite it all in, to push away nothing......
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
Meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
Jelaluddin Rumi
Blessings to all beings who each day of this year will mark their birthdays, and perhaps be able to glimpse the beauty the comes with full attention to this life right now.
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