Monday, July 7, 2008

Extending Friendship

Whenever uncertainty arises, stop. Be present, fully present. Watch your breath. If this isn’t enough, take a walk in nature, work in the garden or turn to a practice that cultivates stillness and inner connectedness such as yoga, qi gong or meditation.
Life is an ever-shifting balance between stillness and activity. Whenever activity dominates, and this easily happens in our busy lives, consciously cultivate stillness and the sense of peace this engenders. We can spend our lives chasing castles in the sky, when that which we seek has been with us all along. As Peace Pilgrim said, “You cannot give me anything I don’t already have.”
All desire comes from a sense of lack. If there is one message I would like to make, it is that we already have enough stuff. Let’s put our focus on the real stuff of life. As Thoreau said, “Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth.” I might add, “Give me friendship.” For me, this goes further than traditionally understood. Whenever I rest in the stillness, I feel immersed in a warm womb of love. I feel forgiven for all of my errors of judgement, for all of my frailties. I am loved and I Am Love. I know that we are surrounded by unseen, loving friends. They guide us and urge us to aim always for the highest.
Last night I joined our teenage daughters, Amira and Asha, and Amira’s boyfriend, Toby, on the beach for a campfire. The wind was roaring from the west. From time to time, it brought a driving rain. We huddled against a cliff somewhat protected from the elements. The night came on and the stars jousted with the clouds. We watched the fire, enchanted by the constantly changing colours of the flames. The salt in some of the driftwood burned an eerie yellow. Ultraviolet, royal blue, green and an occasional flash of turquoise created a rainbow of fire.
Potatoes, broccoli and carrots were placed in a bed of coals. The tide came in. I felt a deep sense of gratitude. I reflected on what I already had in my life and knew, in that moment, that I was fulfilled.
We dragged the aluminium-wrapped vegetables form the fire with sticks. The aluminium tore and some of the contents spilled on the sand. We laughed. As I ate my salad, the three teenagers munched on charred, sometimes crunchy vegetables. As always happens by the beach, a little sand found its way into the food. We laughed some more. Desert, prepared by Asha, was bananas with chocolate and marshmallow, also wrapped in aluminium. When removed from the fire they were a sticky, delicious mess.
The tide came in further and threatened to smother the fire. Asha, the active one, perched in the swaying branches of a nearby Pohutukawa tree, cackling with glee as successive waves flowed under her.
I relished the exquisite ecstasy of the moment. Immersed in darkness, flames dancing, wind crying, occasional drops of rain finding our sheltered alcove; an unknown bird calling from the water. Times like this remind one of our connectedness with everything. Are not the stars our sisters, the sun an elder brother, the moon a maiden meant for love? The sand crushed beneath us, yet supported our steps. The salty water of the sea and the sweet water falling from the sky cleansed and purified our thoughts. The entire orchestra of nature kept us fully present.
Cultivate a relationship with everything. One cannot feel alone with such a sense of connectedness. This is what I call extending friendship.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Service Starts at Home

I know people who talk a great story and can quote from all sorts of books but, they're not living what they speak, fully, that is. Actually, do any of us? We can only try. I love family life and gardening because they’re real places in which I can practically express love. Simple isn't it?

When it comes to thinking globally we definitely need to begin by acting locally. A friend, a very down-to-earth gardener, once pointed to his hand and said, "Look at my fingers. Each one represents a place I can serve. The pinkie is for me. I can't serve anyone else properly until I love myself. I can engender self love by growing and eating healthy food, exercising, etc. The ring finger represents family. This can be my immediate family or an extended one like the whanau of the Maori. The second finger stands for my community. There are myriad ways in which I can serve locally. The index finger represents my country. I'm not talking about patriotism here. As you know, patriotism is as dangerous to a country as pride is to an individual. One place to get involved is in politics at a grass roots level; or in simple peaceful movements and protests. Finally, my thumb represents the planet, and if you like, the universe. The internet allows us to shrink the Earth and create global networks of like-minded friends."

I have modified the above 'hand analogy' when working with children in schools. They can apply their love and actions to their fellow students and their teachers, as well as friends, siblings and parents

Think about it. How effective will our efforts be without starting at home? In my mind, since everything is interconnected, every positive action affects the whole. The entire world is contained within me. Therefore, inner peace implies outer or world peace. I need to heal myself in order to heal the world. I need to start with me.

Our words have real, lasting meaning when they totally reflect our being, our presence. When we live what we speak, we do make a difference. I do my best to live up to this intention each day. Some days I succeed. Some days I fail. No matter—tomorrow’s another day.

Here’s an affirmation I made years ago based on a Sting song:

Every step I make; every breath I take; every thought I have; every word I speak brings me peace.

Say that aloud while looking in the mirror each morning with a big, cheesy smile and repeat it to yourself throughout the day. See what happens with your feelings and in your life. You may be pleasantly surprised.

I've got to go. It's time to make breakfast and play a game with Amira. Service starts at home.

Don't worry. Be happy.

Love,
John