Awareness
“Joy
has to do with seeing how big, how completely unobstructed, and how
precious things are. Resenting what happens to you and complaining
about your life are like refusing to smell the wild roses when you go
for a morning walk, or like being so blind that you don't see the
huge black raven when it lands in the tree that you're sitting
under...”
Pema
Chodron
Once,
years ago, I was at a gathering of women in the desert of southern
Arizona. We were supposed to spend the afternoons in silence, but
many of the 120 women who were there found it impossible to be quiet
for a whole afternoon, and so I, seeking silence, walked out into the
desert alone. I stumbled upon a dried creek bed, a flat, and walked up it for
about a mile until I spied a stumpy, wind-driven tree to sit under
and write. I settled myself and pulled my binder and pen from the
backpack in preparation. Just about the time I had begun to scribble,
there was a rustling above me, and a giant horned owl took flight not
three feet above my head. It was, to say the least, a surreal
experience—and how on God's green earth I could have missed that
enormous bird in that stumpy tree, I do not know. To say that I was
so wrapped up in my thoughts, I did not have eyes to see is the
grossest of understatements.
We
can and do walk through our days oblivious to our surroundings unless
we decide to be conscious. To continue Pema Chodron's quote above,
“We can get so caught up in our own personal pain or worries that
we don't notice that the wind has come up or that somebody has put
flowers on the dining room table or when we walked out in the
morning, the flags weren't up, and when we came back, they were
flying. Resentment, bitterness, and holding a grudge prevent us from
seeing and hearing and tasting and delighting.” It is in these
everyday events, in our awareness of the pleasures provided for free,
that joy has an opportunity to burst unexpected into our lives.
In
my desert experience, I was so busy resenting the talking women in
the compound, that I missed the huge raptor sitting just above my
head. There's a lesson in there somewhere.
In
the Spirit,
Jane
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