A few weeks ago, I was on my way to my weekly yoga class after dropping my 3 year old son off at school. It had been a particularly challenging morning: whining, demanding, testing. And I thought to myself: “Thank God I have yoga to retreat to and replenish myself with – without it, what would I do?”
Then a thought emerged as if on cue: Attachment is the root of all suffering. As I drove I contemplated the Buddhist teaching on suffering. I guess I am attached to yoga, to all kinds of things...my life, my husband, my son, all the people I love, my health, my job, my home, pretty much everything I own – and even the things I don’t like our beautiful cherry tree, and the perennials I’ve planted. And I'm certainly attached to my yoga, and especially my teacher Janice. She is the best, really the only one who does it right. Yes, I admitted, I see the attachment.
I arrived at class, ready to exhale my morning onto my mat and place my life and body trustingly in my teacher's hands to learn that she was announcing her retirement, and closing up shop, no one would be taking her classes. I laid my mat in the back corner and went to the bathroom heaving up a heavy sob.
I felt my attachment with full force, the ache in my heart, the love for my teacher, the trees I viewed from the windows, even the dull paint of the room where we practiced would be missed. How would I cope with parenting and life and stress without this weekly dose of quietude?
I felt raw for a week…or more, honestly - so deep was my attachment. It was useful for me to drag it out, feel self-pity, complain to friends, indulgent as it was. For, I could see that my spiritual maturity has much to do, still with outside circumstances. I can see how well I do with life when my attachments are intact and life flows as I predict.
This week my dear friend Rhei C. went through terribly long and agonizing labor. Hopeful for a home birth she was equipped with: birthing tub, meditation tapes, candles, coconut water, midwives, husband and me, all focused on this single goal. At the 48 hour mark, my astonishingly courageous and powerful friend made the call, time to let go of our expectations and attachments, I need the hospital, now. With the help of an epidural, she gave birth naturally to a perfect expression of love a few hours later, Chayton Theodore Bura.
When I think of how long she bared the pain, how hard it was to let go - truly let go, not the “look at me I’m letting go”-letting go, but the authentic release of your grip on life – I am filled with awe. The admission that the life span of this dream (relationship, car, job, tree, you fill in the blank) is complete. It is done. That most painful place of simultaneous arrival and departure is a rare space where God and life and love are born in us anew.
Thoreau wisely said it, “The soul grows by subtraction.”
And the subtraction is painful, especially when it means letting go of someone/something we really love. And I suppose, that is the spiritual labor of love - when its life span is complete and we must let go.
I give thanks to the spirit of all life, the formed and formless, that is constantly evoking the labor pains of growth, maturity, awareness. Through the endless series of attachments we are able to release, we get to experience the freedom that lies beyond them and a love that is unlike what we have ever known.
Rev. Katherine Silvan
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
Blinded by the Light
The other day while driving, I headed down a hill and directly into the light of the sun. It was so bright and so direct that for a few seconds I could not see anything else except the light. It glowed yellow and swallowed up everything else in my vision so that I could only view the brightness.
This is no good for driving, of course, but it is the truth as I understand it of Divine Love. This Love, Agape, is a light. When we truly look at it, receive it, and our connected to it, there is nothing else. These momets of total awareness of the Divine Love Light may be few, but they are powerful, and they teach us that God, or Divine Love, is not an extra component to our life or in this world, not a small piece of things, but the total view, the complete experience. In truth, there is nothing but God's Light and Love. What a joy that occasionally we may become blinded by it, so that all the petty concerns, the silly details, the doubts and the fears, are blocked out entirely.
May the bright light of Love shine for you today. In all kinds of weather, rain and cloud and thunder, may you find you can turn your face to the Sun of God and be encompassed by the healing power of goodness. I see that for you today, and for me, we will be bathed in the radiant warmth of Agape.
--Rev. Sam Wilde
This is no good for driving, of course, but it is the truth as I understand it of Divine Love. This Love, Agape, is a light. When we truly look at it, receive it, and our connected to it, there is nothing else. These momets of total awareness of the Divine Love Light may be few, but they are powerful, and they teach us that God, or Divine Love, is not an extra component to our life or in this world, not a small piece of things, but the total view, the complete experience. In truth, there is nothing but God's Light and Love. What a joy that occasionally we may become blinded by it, so that all the petty concerns, the silly details, the doubts and the fears, are blocked out entirely.
May the bright light of Love shine for you today. In all kinds of weather, rain and cloud and thunder, may you find you can turn your face to the Sun of God and be encompassed by the healing power of goodness. I see that for you today, and for me, we will be bathed in the radiant warmth of Agape.
--Rev. Sam Wilde
Sunday, May 8, 2011
I Will Always Love You
I had an awesome experience this weekend dancing with those I love who have died. This was a workshop at Kripalu called I Will All Ways Love You. I was moved by the uplifting energy coming from remembering the love and the particular energies of people who inspired me and are part of me as they touched my life deeply. Their spirits never die. They are waiting to be communicated with. I felt their love and their wisdom reminding me to love as deeply as I can while I am living and enjoy my precious life. I would love to inspire you, Agape readers, to take some time and communicate with those you love who may not be here in their physical form.
You can create an altar with their photo on it and write to the person, ask for insight. You could dance, sing, play music, meditate, pray or simply sit and listen as you focus on the person. Souls gone by want to be of support and are waiting patiently to share their love, protection and wisdom with us.
May this season of rebirth open us to love deeply and to learn to open our perception...
Love,
Rev. Supriya Swerdlick Hermenze
You can create an altar with their photo on it and write to the person, ask for insight. You could dance, sing, play music, meditate, pray or simply sit and listen as you focus on the person. Souls gone by want to be of support and are waiting patiently to share their love, protection and wisdom with us.
May this season of rebirth open us to love deeply and to learn to open our perception...
Love,
Rev. Supriya Swerdlick Hermenze
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Being Adult
That's what we're all about, right?? Maturation, accepting adult responsibility,taking care of business...how many of us are in the business, in some form of helping ourselves,our children,our spouses and others we meet to step up to the plate, to make the most of ourselves...sounds good, right?? Well, there are times when I really don't want to do any of that, where I resent having to be an adult, I resent the unending burdens, obligations and responsibilities that life brings...I complain "when can I go to the beach?" I do have to admit that I gave up complaining for Lent, which was an amazing experience of clearing out jammed up stuff. But just to be clear, it will be a long time before I am nominated for sainthood.
It is in this spirit of juggling,which most of us are mastering as the art of getting through the day, that I feel moved to share the following story which appeared one day on my Day-at-a-Time Little Zen Calendar. It is not attributed to any one in particular, and is simply called Zen Story. If I were a truly responsible adult, I would know exactly which day it was, but all I know is that it appeared some time in April 2011.I'm sharing it because I laughed right out loud when I read it, appreciating the deep humanity in it for all of us.I thought it was particularly poignant because of the Lenten season, Easter and Passover, which are almost completely behind us, and which require both a LOT of deep (physical,emotionaland spiritual) housecleaning, and which call us to rise up out of our deadening old ruts, to be freed from the small, tight places that cramp and enslave us.
"A man seeking help went to see the Buddha. He told him he was a farmer. "I like farming," the man said, "but sometimes it doesn't rain enough, and sometimes it rains too much. One year we nearly starved." The Buddha listened.
"I like my wife," the man said, "but sometimes she nags too much, then I get tired of her...We have kids too. Good kids, but sometimes they don't show enough respect, and..." the man went on like this.
After the man finished, the Buddha sat, thought, then said, "I'm sorry, I can't help you."
"What? Why not?" said the man, astonished. The Buddha went on to explain that everyone has problems. In fact, he said, we all have eighty-three problems, and he enumerated them, from birth to death, but as he talked the man grew more and more furious until he questioned the very premise of the Buddha's teaching.
"Well," the Buddha finally said, "I may be able to help you with the eighty-fourth problem."
"The eighty-fourth problem? What's that?"
"The problem of wanting to not have any problems."
Personally, I am beginning to think that certain kinds of problems are around to plague us just for the entertainment value,to prevent boredom and allow intellectual stimulation. The responsible ones say our problems are growing edges, so we can rise above our limitations and be more fully ourselves...but we know about those responsible ones, don't we...and where's the beach? Rev.Susan
It is in this spirit of juggling,which most of us are mastering as the art of getting through the day, that I feel moved to share the following story which appeared one day on my Day-at-a-Time Little Zen Calendar. It is not attributed to any one in particular, and is simply called Zen Story. If I were a truly responsible adult, I would know exactly which day it was, but all I know is that it appeared some time in April 2011.I'm sharing it because I laughed right out loud when I read it, appreciating the deep humanity in it for all of us.I thought it was particularly poignant because of the Lenten season, Easter and Passover, which are almost completely behind us, and which require both a LOT of deep (physical,emotionaland spiritual) housecleaning, and which call us to rise up out of our deadening old ruts, to be freed from the small, tight places that cramp and enslave us.
"A man seeking help went to see the Buddha. He told him he was a farmer. "I like farming," the man said, "but sometimes it doesn't rain enough, and sometimes it rains too much. One year we nearly starved." The Buddha listened.
"I like my wife," the man said, "but sometimes she nags too much, then I get tired of her...We have kids too. Good kids, but sometimes they don't show enough respect, and..." the man went on like this.
After the man finished, the Buddha sat, thought, then said, "I'm sorry, I can't help you."
"What? Why not?" said the man, astonished. The Buddha went on to explain that everyone has problems. In fact, he said, we all have eighty-three problems, and he enumerated them, from birth to death, but as he talked the man grew more and more furious until he questioned the very premise of the Buddha's teaching.
"Well," the Buddha finally said, "I may be able to help you with the eighty-fourth problem."
"The eighty-fourth problem? What's that?"
"The problem of wanting to not have any problems."
Personally, I am beginning to think that certain kinds of problems are around to plague us just for the entertainment value,to prevent boredom and allow intellectual stimulation. The responsible ones say our problems are growing edges, so we can rise above our limitations and be more fully ourselves...but we know about those responsible ones, don't we...and where's the beach? Rev.Susan
Monday, April 25, 2011
The Easter Season
Easter is my favorite holiday in the Christian year. For me, it is one of the most accesible and relevant celebrations; I see it in the new flowers of spring, in the buds on the trees, in the expressions of joyful expectancy on my children's faces as they search for hidden eggs.
Describing it, however, is another matter. "Well," I tell my four year-old. "After Jesus died, he rose from the dead...."
It's just this line that finds many spiritual people not wanting to be religious--and not just from confusion! Allow me to offer one interesting interpretation of the Easter message.
Yesterday, my husband made bread. He woke early and kneaded the dough for ten minutes. We left the house for a few hours for church and he placed the dough in warm (but not on) oven, to rise. When we returned home, he went to check on the dough while I played outside with the children.
"Kids!" he cried happily from the kitchen. "Come see this! The dough has risen!"
Well, it had risen indeed. The enormous bowl was bulging with a massive round of dough, twice the size it had been when he placed it there a few hours before. Whereas the initial bit of dough could have fed ten people, this dough could feed thirty. The effects of the dough rising were expansive, abundant, evident, and exciting.
What is this thing that rises from the dead, not merely a person from a story that some of us do not believe in, and others of us do not understand, but the spirit of that dough overflowing?
For me, it is love. Love rises. You may begin with a small handful and come to find that with care it has grown to many times its size. This is the message of Easter, the gift of the Easter season, and to me also, the heart of the Christian path. Love cannot be killed; it cannot be kept in a tomb or a grave or locked down. It does not diminsh itself or anything around it. If kindness can feed ten people, Love can feed a hundred. It is the principle of abundance, a law of multiplication that ensures Love always wins, always prospers, always rises up. How wonderful when we get a chance to be amazed by it, as my children were yesterday, looking into the bowl to see the truth of our lives present before us: love grows. It grows because it is love and it simply cannot do anything else! --Rev. Sam Wilde
Describing it, however, is another matter. "Well," I tell my four year-old. "After Jesus died, he rose from the dead...."
It's just this line that finds many spiritual people not wanting to be religious--and not just from confusion! Allow me to offer one interesting interpretation of the Easter message.
Yesterday, my husband made bread. He woke early and kneaded the dough for ten minutes. We left the house for a few hours for church and he placed the dough in warm (but not on) oven, to rise. When we returned home, he went to check on the dough while I played outside with the children.
"Kids!" he cried happily from the kitchen. "Come see this! The dough has risen!"
Well, it had risen indeed. The enormous bowl was bulging with a massive round of dough, twice the size it had been when he placed it there a few hours before. Whereas the initial bit of dough could have fed ten people, this dough could feed thirty. The effects of the dough rising were expansive, abundant, evident, and exciting.
What is this thing that rises from the dead, not merely a person from a story that some of us do not believe in, and others of us do not understand, but the spirit of that dough overflowing?
For me, it is love. Love rises. You may begin with a small handful and come to find that with care it has grown to many times its size. This is the message of Easter, the gift of the Easter season, and to me also, the heart of the Christian path. Love cannot be killed; it cannot be kept in a tomb or a grave or locked down. It does not diminsh itself or anything around it. If kindness can feed ten people, Love can feed a hundred. It is the principle of abundance, a law of multiplication that ensures Love always wins, always prospers, always rises up. How wonderful when we get a chance to be amazed by it, as my children were yesterday, looking into the bowl to see the truth of our lives present before us: love grows. It grows because it is love and it simply cannot do anything else! --Rev. Sam Wilde
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Life in the Moment is Sublime; let's not miss the point.
As a spiritual counselor for hospice patients, I never know what I will encounter when entering a new patient’s room. In the case of Jane, as she began talking, I immediately asked permission to take some notes, (something I had never done prior) and quickly grabbed a pen from my bag.
Though she could not even open her eyes, she spoke in haiku as if I had come for the purpose of receiving a teaching. These are the words as she spoke them, “As the Cancer grows, the fear gets less, because my love grows. Love of everything: birds, water, children, light. Just take a walk outside, in the fall, you’ll see. Life in the moment is sublime, this is the point we miss.”
Being with the dying is a rare opportunity. It paradoxically offers the invitation to truly live – and to live rightly; to fully embrace the presence of heart and mind to love everything: the birds, water, children and light. And, simultaneously to let go of what stands in the way of our being present for life - to let go of what keeps us small and fearful. For me some of these include short-sightedness, judgment, fatigue, the “not good enough” story, or “don’t have time.”
Jane passed away three days after I received this teaching from her. Near death, not fully alert and releasing her grasp on all she loved in the world, she uttered an arresting invitation - one that life is continually offering each of us: to pass through the flames of fear, doubt, resignation into the rising phoenix of awareness and unbounded love. Steven Levine puts it in this question: “How soon will we accept this opportunity to be fully alive before we die?”
May the coming of spring bring us each to the awareness that “Life in the moment is sublime.”
Let’s not miss the point.
Rev. Katherine Silvan
Though she could not even open her eyes, she spoke in haiku as if I had come for the purpose of receiving a teaching. These are the words as she spoke them, “As the Cancer grows, the fear gets less, because my love grows. Love of everything: birds, water, children, light. Just take a walk outside, in the fall, you’ll see. Life in the moment is sublime, this is the point we miss.”
Being with the dying is a rare opportunity. It paradoxically offers the invitation to truly live – and to live rightly; to fully embrace the presence of heart and mind to love everything: the birds, water, children and light. And, simultaneously to let go of what stands in the way of our being present for life - to let go of what keeps us small and fearful. For me some of these include short-sightedness, judgment, fatigue, the “not good enough” story, or “don’t have time.”
Jane passed away three days after I received this teaching from her. Near death, not fully alert and releasing her grasp on all she loved in the world, she uttered an arresting invitation - one that life is continually offering each of us: to pass through the flames of fear, doubt, resignation into the rising phoenix of awareness and unbounded love. Steven Levine puts it in this question: “How soon will we accept this opportunity to be fully alive before we die?”
May the coming of spring bring us each to the awareness that “Life in the moment is sublime.”
Let’s not miss the point.
Rev. Katherine Silvan
Thursday, March 31, 2011
What's the big deal, anyway?
I like to joke, on frustrating, maddening, difficult days, that I'm lucky I have got religion. As a favorite gospel song of mine says, "I've got good religion and I'm not afraid!"
Unfortunately, what most people in our modern world are afraid of IS religion. What's surprised me recently is learning how many people are also wary of the word spiritual. Yet, spirituality is an inescapable fact of our existence. Spirituality is the way we make meaning out of our lives. For that matter, religion is too. It's not that most of us lack religion or spirituality, it's that we don't think of our perceptions that way, but truth be told, most of us DO follow a religion. It may be as simple as "Don't leave home without eating breakfast," or as complicated as "God doesn't exist." Whatever the belief may be, we cling to it. We may even fight for it; we certainly think we are right about it.
This is, probably, the human condition, this clinging and supporting of a belief system. So why not choose a life-giving, harmonious, peace-enhancing belief? Since we've been blessed with the ability to choose, why not choose a "religion," or a spirituality that serves the good?
As I studied recently about the Love of God, or more accurately the Love that is God--the God that is Love--I had a moment of anxiety. What if I'm wrong? I thought to myself. What if God isn't really love? What if all those humanists are right and I am wrong?
My conclusion: I don't care if I'm wrong! The religion I practice, the spirituality that I strive to live, creates harmony in my life in true, tangible, practical, real-time ways. I'm not sitting around hoping that heaven is better than this challenging place called earth, I am actively finding that focusing my thoughts and learning about Divine Love brings healing, hope, power and strength to me IN THIS MOMENT.
I may well be wrong, but believing improves my life. I hope my belief improves the lives of all those around me. And when I'm as grumpy, cranky and irritated as I am on a day like today (snow on my crocuses! baby up all night crying! no time for myself! a misunderstanding with friends!), I'm grateful I've got "good religion." If I couldn't make a postive, life-giving meaning from this mess, well, I'd be stuck in it! But the faith in something greater pulls me up out of the muck and mire, like the first flowers of spring press through the cold, hard, stony ground, to great the warmth, compassion and kindness of the sun!
Unfortunately, what most people in our modern world are afraid of IS religion. What's surprised me recently is learning how many people are also wary of the word spiritual. Yet, spirituality is an inescapable fact of our existence. Spirituality is the way we make meaning out of our lives. For that matter, religion is too. It's not that most of us lack religion or spirituality, it's that we don't think of our perceptions that way, but truth be told, most of us DO follow a religion. It may be as simple as "Don't leave home without eating breakfast," or as complicated as "God doesn't exist." Whatever the belief may be, we cling to it. We may even fight for it; we certainly think we are right about it.
This is, probably, the human condition, this clinging and supporting of a belief system. So why not choose a life-giving, harmonious, peace-enhancing belief? Since we've been blessed with the ability to choose, why not choose a "religion," or a spirituality that serves the good?
As I studied recently about the Love of God, or more accurately the Love that is God--the God that is Love--I had a moment of anxiety. What if I'm wrong? I thought to myself. What if God isn't really love? What if all those humanists are right and I am wrong?
My conclusion: I don't care if I'm wrong! The religion I practice, the spirituality that I strive to live, creates harmony in my life in true, tangible, practical, real-time ways. I'm not sitting around hoping that heaven is better than this challenging place called earth, I am actively finding that focusing my thoughts and learning about Divine Love brings healing, hope, power and strength to me IN THIS MOMENT.
I may well be wrong, but believing improves my life. I hope my belief improves the lives of all those around me. And when I'm as grumpy, cranky and irritated as I am on a day like today (snow on my crocuses! baby up all night crying! no time for myself! a misunderstanding with friends!), I'm grateful I've got "good religion." If I couldn't make a postive, life-giving meaning from this mess, well, I'd be stuck in it! But the faith in something greater pulls me up out of the muck and mire, like the first flowers of spring press through the cold, hard, stony ground, to great the warmth, compassion and kindness of the sun!
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