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The Narrow Place

We live in a time of “the narrow place”.

Transitions are difficult and exhausting. The actual “transition phase” in childbirth is the most challenging and occurs just before the baby emerges from the most narrow of places, the birth canal.

Where do we look when the usual landmarks for ethical behavior have eroded, moral outrage seems endless, and we have the sensation of the walls closing in on us?

We look to our own intelligent hearts.

On our hearts are written the guidelines for ethical and moral behavior. When we cannot find such guidelines outside of ourselves we have to source them from within. Throughout history there have been times of moral decay. This is nothing new. And there are those who thrive and shine in such darkness.

Here is a quote I have highlighted, bookmarked, and read daily from Tibetan teacher Dzigar Kongtrul in his book “Training in Tenderness”:

“Tsewa (tenderness of heart) is the only thing that can give us strength and resilience to overcome the challenges that the world presents. Even though we all have this tender heart, there are always certain individuals, who because of their intense confusion and their ability to influence people, spread pain and chaos to many others. But when people develop the strength of tsewa, they act as buffers to protect others from such harm and influence. When many people put their trust in the good heart, it is like erecting a wall that prevents the fire of confusion from spreading.”

If we recognize our interconnectedness then everything we do, matters.

We are not laboring alone nor do we need to be heroic. There are times when our capacity to make great impact, is limited. What’s needed now is a subtle intelligence and an appreciation for the complexity of these times so that we know our part in them. When we are self aware we can wisely consider how we engage in this “narrow place”.

Photo Credit: Zoltan Tasi/Unsplash

Preferences & Certainty

“You do not need to know what is happening or where it is all going. What you need to recognize are the possibilities and challenges offered by the present moment, and to embrace them with courage, faith, and hope. The world is transparent and the divine is shining through all the time.” ~Thomas Merton

Recently my partner and I got our wills in order. It seems timely: we are no longer spring chickens. I affectionately refer to us as “autumn chickens”. We share a daughter and four grandchildren. A future without us meets our gaze through their young, bright eyes.

We did the “needful” as an Indian friend says. We barely knew the attorney; she was hired only for creating our wills. Another woman came in the room briefly to witness and notarize our signatures and in less than an hour everything was done. Our documents were slipped into a large plain white envelope and away we went. I was grateful for their competency.

What struck me was how our preferences create an illusion of certainty. I am fussy about my chai latte. I care a great deal if my veggies are steamed just right. I prefer salted butter over plain. Yet at some of the most significant junctures of our lives we are assisted by strangers. We don’t get to choose.

We live much of our lives insisting that our preferences be met and those preferences are driven by a need for certainty. How well can we do without our preferences being met? Can we discern between a preference and a necessity? Are preferences wrong? Of course not. The lesson it seems these days is to hold them lightly and open to the possibility that there is grace in limitations. It’s good to remember too, that such a life of “preference” comes with privilege. Choices are not an equal opportunity event.

There’s a story about places of worship that had been bombed in Europe after World War II. In some communities shards of stained glass were reassembled in a kind of crooked, scarred beauty; but the light shone through. It’s like that. To paraphrase Leonard Cohen, the crack is where the light enters. There are many cracks these days and no guarantee of what’s to come. What would it be like if we discovered enough space between our preferences that the ever present light could shine through?