Silent Musings

You may have noticed that the frequency of my writing has diminished significantly in the last several months. I don’t know if it’s just a short phase I’m going through, or a long term condition, but I’ve felt somewhat resistant to writing much at all. It isn’t that I haven’t had thoughts about writing, but rather that writing about my experience now just seems to be such a barbaric and violent process to me. Words cannot adequately capture at all what I see, hear, and feel.

I could resort to giving tips and advice like a lot of people do, but this also just feels cheap and needless, like buying some crap I don’t need from the local dollar store. I know what my readers, the few of you who may be left, most appreciate from me is my honest point of view about living a “spiritual” life in the modern world. I enjoy sharing this perspective as well, but lately life has been completely and utterly simple in its occurring, so much so that there really isn’t anything to say about it that doesn’t sound stupid to me.

One could call this phase of spiritual development the “dog days” of meditation, so named for their apparent lack of any particularly noteworthy characteristics. And perhaps you have experienced yourself the feeling of going nowhere fast that accompanies such a period of “growth”. But this, too, utterly fails to describe it accurately, as there is also a profoundly transcendent quality of having let go of every ounce of intention to go anywhere or achieve anything. Frankly, I don’t even know what meditation is any more, although I might have some better idea of what it means to “just sit”. There is such an utter sense of both plainness and richness of experience that accompanies most of life’s daily activities.

Grasping, clinging, and chasing have mostly been erased from life at this point. Desire still exists, but it, too, has a different quality to it, difficult to describe. It is perhaps more accurately depicted as enjoyment, as in “adding joy to the moment”. Yes, that, coupled with the momentum of habit streams (vasanas) that persist throughout time. The pureness of desire is so simple, and can be found anywhere and any time. For me, it comes when eating a piece of fruit, walking to work from the train station, or lying in the arms of a loved one.

If I could, I would let you see life through my eyes so that you could experience directly what I am talking about. And yet, I realize that you do see through my eyes already and always, and you do experience it. But you may not realize it because you are trying so hard to find it …

And now, as I stare blankly at the page, with nothing left to say, I will leave you with the only words that remain after all else has been stripped away:

I Love You

My friend Les Traband died this morning. He had been battling multiple myeloma for several months up until today. However, to say it was a battle is probably a misnomer. Les always lived life on his own terms. He refused to let cancer compromise the way he lived and who he was, although I am certain there were many hours of difficult pain to confront. He accepted his circumstances, and still somehow managed to be the great person he was always known to be to his friends and family.

Although I am sad to hear of his passing, I have no doubt that Les’ spirit lives on in many of us that he left behind. Mostly I feel great sadness for Lee, his wife, for her loss is one that can never be replaced. Although we all must learn to accept the transient nature of life, the deeply spiritual beings like Lee are nevertheless devastated by such passings. Even so, like Les, I’m certain she will find a way to turn her circumstances into a triumph.

For a long time I have viewed Les and Lee as a model for how a marriage could be. Together they accomplished much more than I could ever express in such few words, but most of all their love and support for one another was unwavering throughout all of life’s challenges. You just don’t see that kind of marriage very often.

I didn’t spend as much time with Les as many of his other friends, but that didn’t diminish his contribution to me. More than anyone else I know, Les and Lee taught me how to relate to money in a way that is consistent with being a great spirit. And somehow, they did this not by lecturing, but just by being examples to follow. I still remember the many times Les and I participated in fund raising together, when he would explain why he and Lee donated most of their lives’ savings to the Hunger Project. He always said he didn’t need the money himself because he would be working anyway until he died, and like the many other ways life went according to his terms, he was right about this one as well. But what really stood out was his complete lack of fear when he shared this. He understood deeply his value to the world, and his confidence in himself and his partnership with Lee radiated into the souls that surrounded him. Today I still carry that same confidence with me in my Heart, a gift from a dear and unique friend. And I also know that I am only one of many who received this priceless gift.

Les, wherever you are, I love you and I’ll miss you. And yet, you will always be with me as well. Thank you for your life and your love. And Lee, please know that my Heart aches for you, and I miss you just as well.

A candle is made to become entirely flame.
In that annihilating moment
it has no shadow.

It is nothing but a tongue of light
describing a refuge.

Look at this
just-finishing candle stub
as someone who is finally safe
from virtue and vice,

the pride and the shame
we claim from those.

-Rumi