My wife and I have been spending a lot of time lately with Elders and older friends; visiting, taking care of them, participating in ceremonies with them.
And one of the things that’s pretty obvious is that people are starting to get older – ourselves included. We’re starting to move a bit slower; starting to do a little bit less.
But things are getting deeper. Conversations are getting deeper. Ceremonies are getting sweeter. And the prayers are getting more honest…
There’s a certain sense of familiarity that comes with covering the same ground again and again. You learn how to read the terrain – how to navigate by familiar stars, even when you can’t see them.
It’s comfortable, even though it can be excruciatingly difficult.
But those of us who’ve learned to step off the path for a bit, to rest a while on softer ground, to feel comfortable for a moment under the light of unfamiliar stars,
we’ve learned a few things…
I’m also reminded, in these things, of this path of emotional recovery – of how difficult it can often be.
And then, how some mornings, you can wake up, and you can feel that something’s changed.
You feel different.
You feel rested.
You feel strong.
You learn, as you go along, to really take comfort in these strong times — in these times where you feel healthy — because you know that there’s always more work to do. You know that you’re being prepared to go a little deeper, to walk a little further, to carry something that’s a little bit heavier…
Out of everything in your life, what are the things that feed you? That nurture you? That keep you healthy, and ultimately, promote life?
And out of all the things in your life, what are the ones that drain you? That take your energy? That keep you sick, and ultimately, promote death?
If you know the answer to that question, then here’s another one:
What are you getting out of hanging onto those things?
We need you out here…
Every single one of us that’s doing our work, that’s trying to get better, that’s trying to heal old wounds…
We’re keeping the lights on.
And we may not have any idea of where the hell we’re going – of what this is all going to look like when the healing finally settles in, but we don’t need to.
If we can just keep putting one foot in front of the other; just pick up the work that’s given to us, carry it until it’s done, set it down, and pick up the next bundle.
Just keep doing that…
I’ve been talking with several people lately about the way things are in the world, and there seems to be this general consensus that even though the external world – the social world – seems pretty chaotic right now, there’s this feeling that the ground we’re standing on spiritually, even emotionally, is pretty solid.
It’s as if we’re being asked to bear more weight, so we’re given a solid foundation to stand on while we do it…
What’s your alone time feel like?
Does it feel like Isolation?
Like you’re cutoff from everything and everybody.
Does it feel like something you’re sentenced to?
Like you have to stuff every minute of it with something to do, otherwise you’ll go crazy in the silence; just staring at the walls, living inside your own head.
Or does it feel like solitude?
Does it feel open, spacious…quiet, in a gentle kind of way?
Does it feel like it heals you?
Like it refreshes you; gives you time to be with the things that you’ve lived through on the other side of it…
When you spend your life with people – and you watch them getting older -and you look in the mirror and there’s an old man staring back at you, it tends to put things in perspective.
There’s a certain clarity that’s come with aging. It’s the clarity of knowing what’s important and what’s not; of realizing that the energy that we have is limited sometimes, and it’s up to us where we put it.
But as the wrinkles start coming on – and the hair starts falling off – it gets easier to put that energy into the things that matter, and to let the ones that don’t fall away.
One of the great blessings of my life is that I have found myself in the presence of some absolutely phenomenal people…Elders that I have respected – and continue to respect – to this day.
I have learned so much. I’ve laughed with them. I’ve cried with them. Worked hard. I’ve seen their humanity, and they’ve seen mine,
and they’ve loved me anyway...
One of these elders, someone whom I admire very much, said something one time that really cleared a lot up for me. We were sitting in a circle in a living room, getting ready to do some ceremonial work, and he said, “If any of you have any questions, ask me. Ring me out. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that you’re always going to have me. Don’t even make the mistake of believing that it’s guaranteed that we’re going to be together again…”
Statements like that can be a little unsettling, but they can also be liberating. They can free you from a lot of bullshit, if you’re brave enough to take them to heart…
One of the things I really love about these transitional seasons — like fall and spring — where things are busy dying and being born, is that it’s very easy to become aware of the fact that down deep, below all of it, there’s something larger, something much more powerful at work, pushing itself out into the world.
And so, on one level, we see the returning of the plants. We see the first flashes of greens and yellows and pinks and purples. We hear the birdsongs. We see the blossoms, like those in the ornamental Pear trees across the street, and that’s all just really spectacular.
But below that, way down deep, we’re also aware that that’s life… that untamable force pushing itself out into the world as these things, after all the stillness and death of winter…
Let me ask you a question.
Have you ever had a moment in your life where something shifted at a really deep level?
Maybe you’re not even sure what it was, but you just felt that change. And you knew that if you said “Yes” to it, that things would never be the same – that there’d be no going back.
And yet, somewhere, deeper down, you also knew that saying, “No” just wasn’t an option…
So, I’ve been spending a lot of time in the backyard lately, taking care of the ceremonial space that our Community uses when we come together on the first Saturday of every month. It needed a little work, so, I’ve been out there doing that, and it’s me taken a couple of days to wrap things up.
At the end of the first day, I was sitting out on the patio, surveying the yard, taking in my work, and as I looked over at that spot, I was hit with the feeling that the energy of the place had shifted dramatically; that the work we’d be doing there would be different from now on.
It would be deeper.
The place felt like it had grown up, like it had become more rooted, become more… solid.
And I also knew without a doubt that I had to say “Yes” to it, and that once I did, there’d be no going back to the way things were before…
Bonja the Bodger 