taking the world into your arms
Our simple mindfulness shows us this amazing, crazy world is perfect, just as it is right now. It couldn’t be otherwise.
In her most recent book, Alive Until You’re Dead: Notes on the Home Stretch, the 81-year-old Zen teacher, editor and writer Susan Moon relates an ordeal she went through while riding on public transit from Berkeley to the San Francisco airport.
When she got to the airport, she realized that her carry-on bag, which had her IDs, credit cards, cash, appointment book and teaching notes, had been stolen.
She writes she felt “stripped of everything.”
She could not board her flight to her teaching gig without her ID, but she still had her round-trip public transit ticket. So she took the train back to Berkeley. And on the way home, she had an epiphanic insight.
Yes, she lost some valuable stuff, but she suddenly realized she still had her life, her body, her family, and her friends.
“I touched my own knees in amazement, and wanted to jump up and down in the train, shouting, `I’m alive! I’m alive!’ She writes:
The theft was a strange gift. I lost some objects, yes, and I gained a sense of gratitude for my life that is still with me. I often forget how amazing it is to be alive, but if I concentrate, I can open a drawer in my mind and find the memory of that train ride.
My life feels more complicated each day, with a ridiculous number of choices to make and noise to filter out. I get stuck in overwhelm mode. My system gets bogged down, flooded with sticky memories triggered by the media.
As much as I try to practice culture war pacifism, the news still gets to me. But then I reflect on the words of the American Buddhist monk, Ajahn Nisabho:
There is a role for political discussion, for talking to people about what is meaningful. But it’s very important to understand that as practitioners of this path, you have stepped into a higher order narrative, and received something which is far more important than the political debate of the day.
Reading this, I take a breath and try to connect with this “higher order narrative.”
I appreciate the late Indian philosopher Krishnamurti’s words here:
You think you’re thinking your thoughts. You are not. You are thinking the culture’s thoughts.
Yeah, and many of us even take our cell phones to bed with us. I admit to being guilty as charged (or maybe guilty when charged–my phone, that is.)
what is this higher order narrative?
The other day I sat in meditation, turning Ajahn Nisabho’s phrase over in my head: what is this higher order narrative I have stepped into? And as nature would have it, I had my my own epiphanic insight.
I’m not sure I can describe it in my own words, but a few lines from the poem “When Death Comes,” by Mary Oliver kept coming up.
When it’s over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
perfect just as it is right now
Our simple mindfulness shows us this amazing, crazy world is perfect, just as it is right now. It couldn’t be otherwise.
Yes, even my life as it is right now: overweight, under-exercised, and not looking forward to the long drive home in heavy morning traffic from my night shift job.
I used to feel quite depressed. A part of me was consumed with fantasies and expectations: my kids, my marriage, my meditation practice, my crazy job.
I’m much happier now.
letting go of these fantasies of some other life
Finding happiness was about letting go of these fantasies, and realizing that life is truly amazing without them. I would even say–especially without them.
My higher order narrative is just this: when I lie on my deathbed, can I let go of any regrets for having just been me?
Thank you Suan Moon, for the gift of having your bag stolen on public transit, and for sharing it with us.
