Parker Palmer writes, “The function of contemplation in all its forms is to penetrate illusion and help us to touch reality.” [1] I think he’s right and I would add that great love and great suffering are the normal paths of transformation. There’s an important place for practices of contemplation. I’m not throwing them out, but any practice of contemplation is for the sake of helping us sustain what we temporarily learn through great love or great suffering, whether it’s on a honeymoon or the day after a parent dies. When we’re in the middle of great grief or great love, we become a nondual thinker for a few days, weeks, or months, but we all know it doesn’t last. It doesn’t last—unless we put it into practice. -- Fr. Richard Rohr
Awake in the night, three days after having extensive dental surgery, something that’s been planned for months in consultation with specialists, I find there is a lot to process. I’ve done well; I was brave and handled everything the best I could have hoped for. The specialists were excellent, and so were the medications: I’ve had a lot of swelling but very little pain. But now that the acute phase is lessening, I think it’s all hitting me a bit more -- as I would expect it would. I find my wakeful, restless mind going all over the place in the middle of the night. What have I forgotten to do, what needs my attention now, what do I need to communicate to whom, what should I do next? I thought I would have at least a week or two of exhaustion, recuperation, and being cared for, but the physical recovery is happening much faster than that; in a few days I’ll be almost back to a new “normal.” But what is that? Between the house sale, and all it entailed this summer, and the anticipation and actuality of this significant medical event which came right on its heels, it’s been -- a lot. I don’t think I can simply heal up quickly and hit the ground running.
My reluctance to write regularly on the blog through this period seems both to be a direct result of all that’s happened to me, and is happening in the world. When I see how many people let everything in their lives hang out in public, it makes me want to be silent and private. My little dip into FB this week, because of birthday messages the day after my surgery, reinforces this aversion, but it’s also the news and the media in general, not just social media. The media's relentless invasiveness in their search for attention and detail, the more salacious or anxiety-producing the better, seems to encourage individuals to do the same thing -- “surely there’s something about me that I can use to get attention...and more attention...which will alleviate my own sense of anxiety, insecurity, insignificance, and helplessness about the future.” At the bottom of this, of course, is our fear of our own mortality. But of course the attention-seeking only works temporarily, and it is all ego-driven; it doesn’t help anyone else -- in fact, it has the opposite effect. This is often true even when the person who is writing or posting does so in the guise of “helping” -- leaving aside the blatancy of “influencer” culture and its proven deleterious effect not only on adolescents but many of us, there are many self-styled gurus out there, in every “wellness” field from therapy to spirituality to nutrition, exercise, health and beauty.
Even in my own field of creativity and the arts, where it's quieter, there are plenty of people clamouring for attention. The mediums are made for this, and with every click our preferences and data are used to direct more ads and content into our feeds and inboxes. Most of the time we don’t even think about it. But, if Parker Palmer’s insight is true: “The function of contemplation in all its forms is to penetrate illusion and help us to touch reality,” then the clear message to me is that it’s time to get back on the cushion, literally or not. Too much has happened to me personally, at the same time as the escalating din of war and politics in our world, for me to want to add to it except with a calm word or image now and then. Having some tools for dealing with times of personal and collective upheaval, developed through a lifetime of reading, artistic and spiritual practice, loving others, and observing and thinking about life, helps me to know when I need to step back and take care of myself. Only then can I have any hope of offering anything genuinely useful or helpful to others, which is and should be the goal.
At the same time, I recognize in myself a desire to communicate more with this community of readers and friends -- but quietly. So I will try to do that, while giving myself the time I need to set some priorities and think about the shape of life in the days and months ahead.
Good to know you are taking care of yourself. Appreciate the time you take to gather your thoughts for your posts.
The quote with the words "great love and great suffering" came just after I had been remembering the poem "Of Being,"written by Denise Levertov in 1964. Synchronicity.
Posted by: am | September 22, 2024 at 02:16 PM
Hello Beth. It's a difficult line to tread, isn't it? I find myself getting into Instagram - and it is fun to share, and see what friends and family are up to - but then being repulsed by it and stepping away.
Look after yourself, and even intermittent blog posts are appreciated.
Best wishes,
Huw
Posted by: Huw | September 26, 2024 at 04:54 AM