a good or bad choice

Acceptance is perhaps the most challenging aspect of life. We find ourselves consistently dissatisfied with what is, and typically grasp for something better, something to change, or something different than what reality presents. As such, we choose to impose concerted opinions about whether something is pleasing to us or not. Yet Shakespeare's Hamlet wisely said, "There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." By creating the distinction we foster the conditions of pervasive suffering. The source of all unhappiness is being intolerant of the present situation.

On the other hand, tolerance is not what's called for either. In a response to one of my recent tracts, I was accosted with vituperative and provocative language. Their attempt to rectify a perceived wrong through unsubtle judgment did less to induce critical dialog than to incite inner violence. Perhaps there was a need for tolerance to the onslaught in a move toward resolution? Strangely, however, one should not tolerate anything, for this implies remaining bracingly static, bearing indignantly the situation which serves only to increase the inner conflict. Nor should we kowtow from our self-defined positions to the other. Rather, we must forget ourselves and our deeply-held sacred position, and compassionately welcome that which we find. Acceptance of all, not tolerance, is the key.

We are reminded of such in the Wheat and the Tares analogy in today's lesson. The Christ explains that leaving both the weeds and the grain to grow alongside each other is better than to make a biased distinction. We may, unknowingly, have them confused. It is therefore best to have both remain, the good and the bad, and let life be without judgment.

Just last week I visited the local botanic gardens and marveled at a beautiful iridescent blue thistle seed head. Normally we might consider this plant unwanted because it takes space away from the useful and beneficial, yet here it was anything but a weed. In actuality, the flower exists without interpretation. It is neither good nor bad. We alone create the distinction. We may be distracted by our prejudice, our inculturation, or our reasoning may not always be right. Sometimes the weeds, that which we consider unwanted, are good for us too.

LIkewise, my father is currently involved in a medical research test. The doctors are evaluating between two titanium discs that can help reduce the pressure on his spine. He had hoped for the newer, compact version but was told after the surgery that he received the original one. I expected him to be disappointed but he judiciously indicated that it didn't matter. There was no distinction for in the end they both worked toward the same goal. 

There is nothing wrong nor right; nothing good nor bad; and there is nothing to choose. Everything is simply as it is. All condemnation creates division, but judgment is not reality. The Tao says, "Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the world belongs to you."

love, always,

pia

where love can grow

In the middle of a downtown street I came upon a small oasis. Emerging out of a six inch perfectly round hole lay a patch of cool green surrounded by a swath of sweltering black asphalt. Wall to wall, a carpet of lush grass concealed a gas manhole cover and in the middle I spotted a ladybug crawling on a tiny white clover flower. Transfixed, I was amazed that this beautiful tableau could arise in such an adverse place where presumedly nothing could grow - nothing perhaps, except road rage.

But how was it possible? Frequent traffic traverse this intersection threatening immanent trampling. Little water could penetrate to enliven the bare and fragile earth. And the scorching summer pavement would make even the hardiest plants wither without hesitation. Yet out of this most inhospitable environs shot forth the seed of possibility. An island of hope took root and love blossomed.

The reality was that the street was simply returning to its natural state. Provided a crack in its hard surface, the seed of god's nature broke through the mean streets of everyday life. The indomitable spirit penetrated the nature of man-made reality and revealed its original nature beneath - that is, the ground of love.

We are told about such places in today's gospel parable. The prophet concedes, however, that these precarious conditions often ensure a fruitless harvest. Though the plant may germinate in a variety of landscapes, it never fully matures unless the ground is well prepared. But our hope in the prodigal farmer, who refuses to neglect even the most difficult places, is undaunted. Regardless of the fact that some soil may provide a more enriching environment than others, there always remains the potential for full flowering. The teaching reveals that the undiscriminating spread of the divine seed of love fills us no matter who or where we are.

Should an opportunity arise to break through the often impenetrable surface of our heart, these ripening seeds promise to cover our full being. The ultimate flowering of life is to return to our natural state - to let the seeds of love mature and yield a flourishing oasis even in the harshest environments.

love, always,

pia

the last word

I have struggled with reading all of my life. Not only do I read slowly, many times after finishing a passage of text, I have little conception of what I just read. From the very beginning, extra classes were invoked to help me, not just understand what I was reading, but also what was on the page itself. Basic first grade primers were confused in imaginative verse much different than what was intended. Later, high school SAT examinations were torturous because my skills were still only approaching adequate. Much to my chagrin, I was encouraged to take them twice because of the unfathomable discrepancy between my mathematics and English scores. A mild form of dyslexia - my own diagnosis - created a fear of the written word that persisted until I rid the home of the television set fifteen years ago. With no allure to the intoxicating blue hues of inculcation, I encouraged and developed a love of books notwithstanding being often flummoxed by mere comprehension. 

So when a misconstrued email found its way into my inbox this week I pondered its meaning intently. Innocuous as it may have seemed to the sender, it catapulted the recipient into skewed fits of confusion. Did it mean what it said or was I reading into it something that was not there? Over and over I ruminated if the wording was a simple mistake or a subtle jab with underlying purpose. Try as I might to grant the benefit of the doubt, anger surged inside me as only the paranoia of disrespect dominated my reading. I could not let go of the presumed affront and it opened a Pandora's (in)box of despair.

Wisely, I recognized straightaway that the words were not the perpetrator but, in fact, was of my own conspiring mind. I created the problem by taking offense. By supposing that the sender's meaning was malicious, I exacerbated its effect by clinging to a created reality. My ego inflamed the situation when all I really wanted was to be free from the speculative slander. Unfortunately this wisdom did not prevent an ill-advised, if reasoned, response. This unskillful strategy did not bring me the joy nor redemption I longed for, but only more consternation.

Jesus says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yolk upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." Our burdens enslave us to not only physical afflictions but mental sufferings as well. And a majority of these burdens are self-inflicted resulting from our attachments. My pride was hurt and so desired a less-than gentle and humble retribution. I thus bound myself to unhappiness because I understood solely through what the subjective mind could read.

The fine print, however, is the extant truth hidden in the authentic Self. And this is what today's gospel calls us to encounter - the unlimited, unburdened Word. Our contrived burdens are never the last word. A true and lasting joy can be learned only in attentive comprehension. There will be found rest for the wearied mind; there will be found ultimate understanding.

 

love, always,
pia