“The distinctive human problem from time immemorial has been the need to spiritualize human life, to lift it onto a special immortal plane, beyond the cycles of life and death that characterize all other organisms.” ~ Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death
We waited until the oppressive heat of the day passed to take our walk. The air was thick and still but it felt good to be outside, moving. Because the humidity teases forward every former injury, we talked about our ubiquitous aches and pains. My back. Her wrists and fingers.
Kerri stopped and said, “I get it now.” We laughed at the memory:
One day, years ago, Beaky looked in the mirror and declared, “I look like an old woman!”
Kerri said, “Momma, you’re 93! You are old.”
Beaky stared at herself in the mirror and added, “But I don’t feel old!”
“I get it now.”
As we walked we talked about feeling young in a body that hurts when it’s humid. A new experience on our path through life, a growing dissonance between body and spirit. The spirit steps a few feet away and looks back at the body, declaring, “What the heck! That’s not what I look like!” It is certainly not what I feel like.
There’s a surprising gift in the dissonance. Perhaps, like all good paradoxes, within the discord, the first real harmony of life becomes available. The “supposed-to-be” drops off. The social face is less useful and set aside. The striving to be somewhere-else-in-some-imagined-future-achievement ceases, becomes so much dust. Suddenly, the miracle of life is not somewhere else. It is found in the here-and-now. Flexing achy fingers. The evening sky made pastel by humidity.
The growing realization that this ride is limited makes it all the more precious. Grounded.
Life – spirituality – becomes uncomplicated. Unapologetic. Authentic. Spirituality that requires no cathedral or book of rules. No incense or intermediary. No searching or appealing prayer. Spirituality that is borne of the simple appreciation of the moment. Feet firmly planted on the ground. In the Buddhist tradition: joyful participation in the sorrows of the world. Here and now.
In joyful participation, holding hands with achy bodies on a humid evening, for a moment at least, we get it. We arrive at uncomplicated, unapologetic, and authentic.*
(*thanks to the Heggies Pizza truck for the post inspiration!)
read Kerri’s blogpost about UNCOMPLICATED, UNAPOLOGETIC, AND AUTHENTIC
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The Direction of Intention 