On Losing
Perspective:
Hello old friend,
You
shared with me that you've made tremendous progress spiritually. You
meditate regularly, faithfully attend yoga classes, and visualize
every night before drifting off into a gentle sleep.
You speak eloquently of the
Talmud, the shamanic path, the Koran, the New Testament, and the
Bhagavad Gita. You give thanks each morning to the four elements
with the cornmeal you scatter in the wind. You lift your face
reverently up towards the golden sunlight, welcome its soothing
caress upon your face. Your life is good, you tell me. I immediately
understand that you are expecting me to acknowledge your bounty, and
I, ever the accommodating friend, oblige.
But what has become of the other
growing things in your life? Your once beautiful garden so long now
left untended has been overcome with weeds. Your son weeps in
earnest in the darkness of his room, feeling alone and abandoned. He
is weary of your lectures and your preoccupation with mystical
experiences. While you serve him delicious vegetarian fare, he is
starving for your attention.
And what of your partner? He no
longer turns to you in bed at night. You waved him away again and
again, too engrossed in your newest work of wisdom to hold him and
whisper. He looks at you now from across the breakfast table, no
longer enchanted with your transformation. He gazes at you barely
listening to your animated explanation of energy points along
meridian lines, and sees a stranger. He would like to share
with you what little he understands of himself, but he knows that
you're not interested. Somewhere along the way to simplifying your
life, you concluded that he was too simplistic. His familiar face
has now blended into the background. And as you eagerly encounter
new vistas, your husband and son fade from view.
You miss your son's soccer
practices; they conflict with your woman's prayer group. You fail to
schedule a dentist appointment--have these become more of those
unimportant details you sought to escape when you left your job? You
wanted to live a more meaningful life, have time, you explained, to
attend to what really matters. I understood and applauded you then.
I am struggling to comprehend now.
You shared with me that after
reading BirthQuake you made the decision to honor your life more
fully by living in greater accordance with your values. I remember
feeling so proud of us both that warm summer day. I am more than a
little embarrassed to think that I once took even a little credit
for what it now hurts to acknowledge. I don't want the slightest
responsibility for the "progress" you've made. Perhaps it
is simply that you have surpassed me, grown beyond my superficial
concerns. You see, I still value those bothersome matters that seem
to you to interfere with the supreme needs of the mind, body, and
soul.
It still all matters to me -
mind, body, spirit, relationships, love, labor - all the details. I
don't always enjoy tending to them, but I accept them as necessary.
My dear friend, I ask you to consider that in order to follow that
which is holy - you must embrace the whole. In turning away from the
less invigorating aspects of your life, you claim you have gained
spiritually. Forgive me, for I wonder just how much you've lost...
Caring for the soul is not a
limiting endeavor which demands that much of the rest of our lives
gets placed on hold. Soul work calls forth the sacred in even that
which you consider to be tedious, and must encompass all of our
lives.
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