Practicing Perspective

The Practice of Perspective

“If you remember nothing else, always remember this one great secret of spiritual practice: we don’t have to feel any particular way.  We don’t have to have special experiences, nor do we have to be any particular way…all we can do is experience and work with whatever our life is right now…”

                                                                        Ezra Bayda

“Why is view so important?  View is how our mind is oriented, and the way our mind is oriented determines what we get.  Our realization is based on the size of our view.”

                                                                        Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche

            One of my favorite spots in Morganton, the small North Carolina town where I grew up, is an empty lot at the top of the hill on Tate Street.  When I was staying in my mother’s house, I would walk there every day with my little dog, Julie, and sit in the tall grass with my back against an ancient walnut tree.  From that spot I could see a vista of mountains stretching out on both sides.  I would say to Julie, “Let’s go see what the mountains are up to today,” and off we’d go.  Some days they stood out in crystal clarity—table rock, grandfather, hawk’s bill.  Some days, mist covered them entirely, and only the suggestion of mountains was apparent.  Other days, clouds hung in the low places, as though reluctant to move skyward.  Everyday, the view was a breathtaking.

            Sitting in the field, I could see that a house had once stood on that spot.  There were the remains of a chimney—just a few stacked rocks, really.  Bricks formed a rectangle in the ground were the foundation had once been.  Remnants of a concrete sidewalk with spring jonquils planted along it still led in and out.  I wondered who had once lived everyday with that amazing view.  Was the view the reason they had chosen that spot.  I thought about the tender way they had cared for it, planted flowers, gathered walnuts. 

            Looking closer still, I found walnuts on the ground some still in their black husks, some broken open by animals.  The field was covered with wild flowers and grasses—violets, dandelions, wild fern.  Julie liked to dig at holes she found—chipmunk and moles. The wind always blew there separating Julie’s fur and making it stand up on her head.  I never wanted to leave that beautiful, peaceful place.

            Because we walk upright, we have a limited view of the world at any given moment.  We can get the idea that all that exists is what we see from that lofty place.  If we get on our knees or sitting down, we have a completely different view and if we lie down, another view still.  One very simple spiritual practice is to find a spot you love and explore it in this way.  Doesn’t have to be out in the natural world, though that is preferable; it could be in your own home.  The point is to pay attention, to notice, to be present and aware.  If there is time, write down what you saw and what you experienced; what you noticed that you hadn’t before.  How does it change over time, with time of day, with the seasons?  What about this particular place calls to you?  How do you feel when you are there?  Just ten minutes a day spent in present time quietly noticing what is around you can change the way you view the world the other fourteen hundred and thirty minutes.
 

In all things give thanks,

                                                                        Jane