Crazy Courage

Mystic Reality

“To pray you open your whole self

To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon

To one whole voice that is you

And know there is more

That you can’t see, can’t hear

Can’t know except in moments…”

Joy Harjo

          Are you a mystic? I am, thank God. I don’t think I could be an optimist if I weren’t also a mystic. It’s a little bit like being a kid on a treasure hunt—turning over rocks, poking your nose into holes in trees, slipping a twig down a chipmunk hole. You don’t know what you might turn up, but you have faith that you will find something interesting. And that confidence comes from the strong, gut feeling that there is way more to life than we can reach with our five senses. Otherwise, why pray at all?

          “To pray you open your whole self,” Joy Harjo writes. That means we put down our critic’s pen, set aside our almighty certainty, and allow ourselves to be led to a new reality by a hand we cannot see, but we know is Truth. Sometimes the truth leads us somewhere unexpected, but it will support us through the fear. In the middle of all that unknown, with that hand in yours, you will find crazy courage, and the fear will take a back seat.

          I’ve been reading Sebastian Junger’s book, Tribe. One chapter tells about the surprising findings of British psychiatrists during World War II and the blitz of London. It had been widely expected that the people of London would experience hysteria, panic and be incapable of dealing with their fear. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. They went about their lives, and when the bombs began to drop, they went into the shelters and bunkers and underground train stations. They got to know each other, developed a loosely organized structure with an agreed upon leader, provided food and water for one another, cared for anyone who was sick or wounded until the bombing stopped, and then they went about their business again. The rates of “nervous breakdown” and suicide diminished almost entirely. The people of London actually fared better psychologically than people in rural areas where no bombs were dropped because they felt their lives had purpose, and that they owed it to others and to their country to do their part. Viktor Frankl found the same thing in the concentration camps in Germany. The people who survived found purpose and meaning even in that extreme circumstance.

          It should not take such dire circumstances for us to pull together and assume responsibility for ourselves and each other. However, we are in dire circumstances right now. The pandemic has put us there. And just like the people of London, we have an opportunity to get through this intact if we join hands and all pull in the same direction. The world-soul is whispering in our ears. We should listen.

                                                  In the Spirit,

                                                  Jane