Month: January 2026

Space is where I go whenever I choose. I have not learned how to live there. It is mostly a place that I visit. For the most part I simply dissolve into my inner space. Inner space is both a retreat and an exciting plunge. For me, it is an experience of deep concentration and limitless involvement. Inner space is where I am most focused and where I see how I am connected to all things.

It has been years since I first accidentally fell into inner space. I stumbled into a place where all things are present. Once I learned what that entrance felt like, I found that I can boldly go there whenever I want. All the world around me disappears from my senses, and I feel the most intimate union with it at the same time.

For me, the path to inner space mostly begins with my senses. A single breath, felt in my nostrils or sometimes in my chest, is my first step. My deep awareness of that sensation is the second step. My breath experience as known is the singular focus of my attention. That knowledge is the rim of my inner space.

My mind loves that knowing focus on something as simple as my breath sensation, and my mind dissolves in a rush of enjoyment. It relaxes, it lets go, and the plunge into that limitless inner space begins. For a moment I allow that pleasant experience to continue, my mind all the while focused on my breath as known. I can simply linger there, or I can choose to open to the awareness of limitless space, of infinite intelligence. At that point, all connnection with sensation has faded away. Sometimes, I have an awareness of total emptiness, with an embracing connection to all that is.

While it is somewhat traditional to begin with the breath in order to enter into inner space, I more frequently experience touch as the stepping off point. It could be as simple as touching the top of my desk or a plant in my garden. The starting point frequently is touching someone on their arm or holding them in a lingering hug. In an instant, I let go of all preconceptions and know the sensation just as it is. As quickly, I plunge into the realm of inner space, the place where intimacy and awareness explode.

If I am deliberate, vision can allow me to take that first step. What I see opens me to inner space and the object of my awareness becomes part of my inner space. It may be as simple as looking intently at someone who is speaking, their words becoming part of my inner space. It can be as thrilling as looking into the night sky at the end of my dock and realizing that what I see and what I experience inside of me are the same.

Inner space is where I experience what Rilke expressed as “The darkness of each endless fall. The shimmering light of each ascent.” I don’t dwell in inner space, but I go there often. I experience inner space at the hourly sound of my bell and I touch whatever is near. I often invite each spoonful of my cereal as a taste of inner space, and also each forkful of food that enters my mouth.

I often step into and out of my inner space. I don’t exactly live there but I am practicing.

As I hear the reaction of people to events I know of, I am noticing how my view of the world is shaped by what I think. What I see is shaped by what I expect to see. I like to think that I have an open mind to see what is really present or actually happening. But I know that my world is, for me, shaped by my own view.

I think that my mind is constantly functioning against a backdrop of perception. I don’t interpret everything as though I know nothing. I have a whole tapestry of assumptions that I bring into every experience. My mind is actively shaping my world every moment to correspond to my view of what I think is present.

I am aware of that influence of view that accompanies anyone coming into my garden. What they see is highly influenced by their background notion of what a garden looks like. How they see my garden is placed against a tapestry of their view of a garden, and they experience my garden in that context. For people who have the view that a garden is the orderly placement of plants, my garden of controlled chaos looks much too unruly. It is not a true garden in their view.

For people whose notion of a garden is true random, not influenced by human hands, my garden is much too controlled. They are uncomfortable that my controlled chaos has too much order in it. They have their notion of what a garden looks like, and they are truly seeing my garden as not in the mold of their view of what a garden is.

I know I have my own personal view of the world, and I see things from my personal perspective. Like everyone, I choose my point of view, I am not confused. I simply see and experience things as they are filtered through my perspective. I make a special effort to have a view that is relaxed enough to see things as they truly are. I am aware that my mind is often on auto pilot and is ready to see a background pattern into which my experience must fit.

I interupt this default pattern by paying attention to my breathing. I routinely touch something or someone to break away from my preconceptions. I know that I can easily rely on a wrong pattern, a wrong view, if I do not interrupt what I experience with a focused attention to a sensory esperience like breathing or touch. I try to guide my mind so that it is more likely to have a passive role of experiencing the world as it likely is.

My automatic view often gets me through the rigors of the day. But I am also ready to interrupt my view with the challenge of “are you sure?”

I am aware of the importance that joy has in the face of cruelty and inhumane treatment of people. It need not be bubbling over, but joy is a significant antedote to keep my body from falling apart, from yielding to the darkness being visited around me. Fear is powerful in me, but so is joy. Joy helps me to relax, it keeps me shielded from entering the atmosphere of hate and it brings me closer to those I love.

The lack of joy in the oppressors is so obvious. There is no joy in how they relate to those whom they intend to harm and actually do harm. Those men and women are raw and brutes. There are no smiles, no calmness, no awareness. The federal government dug deep when they recruted the joyless invaders of our neighborhoods. These people are not the cream of humanity but the dregs. They lack the humanness of joy.

For me, anger can be a source of energy. It can also be destructive to anyone who is angry. Joy can be my insulation to the destructive power of my anger. I am not afraid to direct my anger at those who are harming me and my neighbors. I will not allow my anger to descend into hatred. Joy is my insulation to keep my anger from harming myself.

I am grateful that I am surrounded by close friends who help me remain joyful, even in situations that could generate despair. I think that I agree with Joanna Macy that despair can soften and tenderize the heart. Because of joy, I can embrace despair, and not be overwhelmed by its power. Joy is what keeps my heart tender when I am surrounded by cruelty. Being surrounded by loving friends who share my joy helps me keep a tender heart.

I could explain all those things that give me joy, but foremost are my loving friends. They help me maintain a joyful heart. They help me walk in joy in the midst of cruelty.

I notice that I have experiences of community in a number of ways. Not all experiences are positive. Some aspects of my community are large and other aspects are very small. Size often makes a difference in how I experience and relate.

I have a disturbing relationship with my largest community. In reccent years I am growing in my awareness that I am a linked part of the huge community of Homo Sapiens. I follow a tradition that holds a perspective of interbeing, of all entities being entwined and linked. For me, this has become more than a concept, more than a perspective. I have begun to experience what it means to be part of a species that has done great things and continues to do terrible things. I am currently aware that my species, the humans I am intimately linked to, has been engaged in doing terrible things to other humans.

I am increasingly aware that my species is currently engaged in doing terrible things to our fellow humans. As I allow myself to experience what that means, I have become increasingly weighed down by the reality. I live in Minneapolis, a community where that awareness takes hold of me daily. My community suffers at the hands of my fellow humans. That is a heavy thing to experience.

That same community has stepped forward with love, resistance and energy. This is also a community that holds deep respect nd support for what it means to be human. I experience a community that acts in a way that causes no harm. This too is my community, and it is an aspect that I prefer to embrace.

I also have the smaller community of Bryn Mawr in which I have lived for forty years. For decades, I have shared the lived experience of a few thousand people, struggling through many isssues and enjoying the benefits of a community that thrives and supports one another. I have joined many members of my community in my garden and shared the joy of gardening with many members who pass by.

I have a smaller community, a meditation group. This is a sangha whose name means community. This community consists of a couple dozen people who gather frequently to experience the common presence of one another. We listen to one another, we support one another’s efforts, we give hugs. We sometimes struggle with one another, we also share aspirations and joys.

I am also happy for a loose community of individuals who care for me and support me. These are men and women I can genuinely say that I love. We share our lives actively, we make room to sit with tea. We listen intensively and intentionally. We cascade into the presence of one another. We are attentive to the physical and immaterial aspects of one another. We step across the boundaries of our individuality. It is no surprise that this is the community that I experience freely and without burden. This community lives what it means to be linked and entwined.

Experiencing what it means to be part of the human community is burdensome and sometimes makes me sad. I also experience the richness of the community around me, especially those individuals who are closest to me. It gives me joy to enter more fully into the lives of all those who have chosen to act in caring, loving, human ways. These are the people I most easily recognize and accept as members of the human community.

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