Month: December 2020

Trying to understand better who I am, I examine the traces left by my ancestors. My emergence from the substance of the cosmos has been shaped by the hands and minds of those who have proceeded me. I look for the traces they have left behind.

The traces tell me about the ancient use of fire, a legacy of my progenitors. Traces were left by them some 400,000 years ago, and the results are part of who I am. Much of what I am is the consequence of actions taken so many years ago and I know them by the subtle traces that remain.

My inheritance is defined by the scratches on bones left by ancestors who ate the last of the wooly mammoths. The traces they unknowingly left behind tell me part of the story of what it means to be human. Hints of my legacy define in subtle strokes the emergence of the creature I am now becoming.

So too the written marks on tablets and stone are traces of minds who transformed the world and shaped my culture. Today, on the anniversary of the massacre at Wounded Knee, I am reminded of the indelible traces my ancestors have imposed on my own life by the horrible actions they took against fellow humans. The traces all remind me of the history that lives in me.

I did not come into existence without those many traces of the past that defined both my inheritance and who I am. When I was born, I entered and became a living part of a world shaped by those who individually and collectively left traces of their lives behind them. I was born with instructions, traces written by the hands of the many who lived before me.

With little awareness, I became part of a world shaped by ancestors who left many revealing traces. To become more aware, I study whose traces to better understand just what it means today for me to be part of humankind. The traces left by them are not so much for my inspiration as they are a definition of who I am.

I am also noticing that the traces I cause around me are defining what the present has become. My world is etched by traces of who I am, very like the scratches left on bones or chips on stone tools left by my ancestors.

I leave more than footprints that indicate, or at least suggest, the kind of creature I am. The traces say that I am a builder of roads so that I can move about more easily. I am a destroyer of forests so that I can have an unlimited supply of toilet paper. I am a creature who uses fire to create light and motion.

I like to remember that I am also a gardener who creates beauty around me. I produce enjoyment and nurturing for creatures both different and like my own kind. My traces tell what I have become.

I’m not sure what she had in mind, but I think she pretty much sums it up. Margaret Atwood has supplied the words that might well serve as the epitaph for humanity:

…..Sorry about that. We got stupid.

We drink martinis and go on cruises…….

I consider Truth a great virtue. I aspire to live and practice the virtue of Truth in whatever ways I can. The opportunities are many and constant. For me, the practice of the virtue of Truth is a way of wholeness, integration and alignment.

I don’t think anyone can give me Truth. Truth comes only through my experience of it. I back away from anyone who claims to be telling any Truth other than their own experience. While this happens in a numbers of venues, it is especially an issue in areas of spirituality or religion. So many illusions of Truth are presented on behalf of a religious point of view. I am wiling to listen to people who are reporting on their experience and I turn away from any suggestion of dogmatism.

Practicing the virtue of Truth is made more difficult by the distortions and distractions of fear. The response of fear to a perceived threat is part of being human. So often, fear energizes the illusion of a threat and makes it more difficult to experience reality just as it is.

I am determined not to resist what is. I am determined not to make anything into something it is not just because I wish things were different. I want to experience the world as it is and not as I want it to be. I want to speak in such a way that my words come from my experience of Truth. I do not want to misrepresent reality and instead I will be an instrument of Truth.

Practicing the virtue of Truth is not easy. My life is full of so much exposure to illusion that it is difficult to experience reality just as it is. So I cultivate awareness and insight so that I can more readily practice Truth. It is the only great path I find worth following.

Today, I am feeling a deep sadness that so many humans are unaware that our time to thrive is quickly coming to an end. For only a few thousand years, humans have thrived and successfully enjoyed the Earth. Most humans seem to be unaware that their success has begun to come crashing down. The final act has begun, and so many are unaware.

Our amazing success as a species is the ironic cause of our looming failure. Only twelve thousand years ago, there were perhaps 4 million humans on the Earth. Within the next 5 thousand years, that population had grown only a slight amount to 5 million. Disease played a major role, most likely, in limiting the human population growth.

The next five thousand years was a different story as the number of humans grew to 100 million. Most likely, acquired immunity to common diseases fueled this growth.

That growth spurt, however, was small compared to what is happening right now, and most people are unaware. In 1975, the 4 billion humans alive reached what is considered the carrying capacity of the planet. Within the next 25 years that number had nearly doubled. It continues to expand. The ingenuity of humans has supported this growth, yet most humans remain unaware of what is happening.

Most humans are unaware of the reality that the life web on which we rely is crashing. There may be some vague awareness of climate change, but most are unaware of the gravity of the situation. The natural system that has supported our rise and our survival is rapidly changing. Insect populations have already greatly diminished. Birds have disappeared, and forests are a fraction of what they were not very long ago. The increasing extinction of individual species is a harbinger of what is to come. The sweet spot in a reliable weather pattern that has allowed humans to flourish is no longer stable. It is changing in what are mostly unfriendly ways.

Half the population in the US shuts their eyes to what is happening and remain unaware of the peril. Many cannot even come to grips with the lethal dangers of a COVID pandemic and they choose a path of misguided risk.

This will not be the first time nature has rebooted. This will be the first time that humans will be part of a massive extinction. Perhaps there will be aware humans that survive. In the past, the species who could adapt were the lucky survivors. Perhaps humans who have the special characteristic of awareness will survive the approaching change The unaware will likely perish.

From time to time, I have a situation when I could easily say “I’m a Buddhist,” but I don’t. I resist announcing my identity with groups, especially a group that might be construed as a religion. I don’t think that any group characterizes who I am. I prefer to say “I live in Bryn Mawr” or “I am part of the Master Gardener program.” When it comes to saying whether I am a Buddhist or not, I mostly say that I follow The Path of Buddhism.

Actually, I would prefer to say that I follow The Way, but that is what the Mandalorian says. He clearly has first dibs. Also, Disney probably has the expression copyrighted. When the tradition of Buddhism offers the Middle Path, it is offering The Way out of suffering and to awareness. For me, this is The Path. It is what I follow.

I am aware that I am following The Path as I move from one room to another in my home. I just returned from a walk around my block, and my feet were attentive to moving along The Path. Yesterday, my reaction to finding an opossum in my squirrel trap was subdued surprise. Amused acceptance, not anxiety, is my way of following The Path.

Following The Path has an air of equanimity about it. There is no right or wrong, there are no excesses, there are no hard and fast rules. The Path takes me into a place of vacant emptiness at the same time as it conveys the feeling of thrilling abundance. When I follow The Path, I am both strangely disconnected and intimately joined. Because it is the middle way, The Path is free of both aversion and attachment. The Path goes nowhere; it is enough to be on The Path.

Staying on The Path is not always easy. The Path is buffeted by hindrances that make staying on The Path difficult. Distraction is the main hindrance that makes it difficult for me to stay on The Path. There are antidotes to neutralize the hindrances, and for me that means cultivating focus and concentration. There are practices that help me follow The Path.

I may not want to call myself a Buddhist, and I don’t think that I can claim to follow The Way of the Buddha. I do say that I follow The Path I have been shown by the Buddha and by the many individuals who found awareness on The Path. I follow The Path of Buddhism.

I sit on the edge of my bed and look out a window that stares into darkness. It is a darkness that has crept in. Only a few months ago, I would have been looking into a bright morning of light. Today there is only darkness. I see darkness everywhere. It is that time of year when the darkness sneaks in, slowly and quietly taking over more and more of each passing day.

As I gradually descend into this time of darkness, I feel the echoes of my past when I was enveloped in the weeks and works of Advent. For four weeks, I once allowed myself to consciously descend with other aware Christians into a darkened time of year. We knowingly surrounded ourselves with notions of darkness, mirroring the world around us. For us, it was a time that lead to a coming event at Christmas that would turn it all around.

For many people, it was a time to accept the darkening days as time crept toward Solstice when darkness would reverse the world and the sun would once again slowly return to bring light to each day. It was for all of us a time to settle into darkness, knowing that a celebration of light would come in a few weeks.

In recent times, that same darkness invites me to enter into a sphere of emptiness. Today I put aside the notions that give shape and definition to my days. I allow myself to settle into an experience of no shape, no form, no perception. Darkness reminds me to enter an arena of total letting go and descend into emptiness as a routine part of my life.

These days, when I am surrounded by darkness, it seems easier to touch the experience of nothingness. It is a time of emptiness where all is as quiet as a time of Advent. At the same time, the darkness feels so alive with the promise of infinite possibility. Surrendering to emptiness and entering a sphere of nothingness, I gain a sense that all is present. Unobserved but present.

I cheat a little during this darkening time of year. I may often look out my windows into darkness much more as the month of December advances. I have cheated darkness by populating my darkened yard with many tiny lights on trees around my home. Their soft glow reminds me of the promise that in the darkness there is light that can and will emerge.

I can celebrate my gradual entry into the emptiness of a darkened, indistinct world, knowing there is an abundance and richness enveloped by that cloak of darkness.

The darkness may lack form and substance, but it is also rich with abundance I may yet experience. Christians bring a faith and promise to their observance of Advent descent into darkness. I bring a confidence of emerging wholeness to my descent into emptiness. Whether I am staring out my window or sitting with closed eyes, darkness is not my foe. Darkness is my friend inviting me into a new kind of experience. I try to allow that experience of emptiness to happen. Sometimes it comes.

My dreams are often visited by ragged fragments of past experience that rise out of the distant mist to haunt me. Dreams hardly ever reach for an unrecognized or desired future. They mostly haunt me out of moldy graves of my past. They will not be forgotten, but remind me that they are a disjointed part of me that lingers just below the surface of my counciousness.

These haunts are fabricated out of memory parts that hover nearby and come out at night or during daytime naps. They roam in my imagination, pressing against the windows of my awareness. They leave emotional smears across my waking mind, reminding me that they have been present. And they are sure to return.

I wish that these fragments from my memories were more often pleasant or comforting. These haunts mostly recall unresolved moments of time that were uncomfortable. They come from places I would rather not revisit. They remind me of bits of experience that were difficult or challenging. I suspect they are moments that I have ever fully embraced as my own, and so they return to lurk and linger at the edges of my awareness.

My dreams are populated by these haunting guests who insist on ringing my door bell. They suddenly appear, uninvited, sitting on my living room couch and refuse to leave. If I wake, I am certain they will still be present if I allow myself to settle back into dreaming. There seems to be no way to get them to leave, except I become absorbed in my awake present. Even then, they are capable of leaving behind the emotional imprints of their presence.

If I return to sleep, they will take the occasion to return and appear as real as my hand before my eyes. They often leave an emotional imprint that reminds me for long moments, sometimes hours, that the haunt has been present and stirred my awareness.

These are the haunts that rise out of the moldy, musty detritus of my past. I wish that I were visited more often by a glowing fairy, bright with the promise of a relaxed mind when I wake. More often my haunts are a hairy man, a gnome that rises out of the decaying residue of a troubled time.