11-8-2008
What a momentous week this has been! Seeing voters standing in line for hours and in all kinds of weather gave me renewed hope for our country. The barrier of race in electing a president has finally been removed, a crowning moment in American political history. There are many serious challenges ahead, but perhaps, just perhaps, this fragile and wayward democracy is set right again.
How easy it is to keep up with the political news and the world events these days, and how tempting with so many sources of information. There’s always one more dot to connect, one more theory to ponder, one more witness with something different to say. But all the screaming headlines will still be screaming there little heads off the day I die – and no matter how many newspapers and magazines I read, I won’t understand this mysterious world any better by then. Maybe I need to focus more on what’s enduring and true – the one story that illuminates all our seemingly separate stories.
That one story has become more real to me since I have been moved from a noisy, overcrowded dormitory, to the blissful silence of a private room. As I write these words from this room, the silence is rich and dense, as if I had just dived into a refreshingly clear lake on a hot summer day.
It is here, in this silence, that the knowing comes, that the insight is seen and the healing witnessed.
Even in these chaotic times, I believe our everyday lives deserve celebration. As our world grows more complex, it takes more thought to do less. I want to remember that the world will go on being the world without me and my endless attempts to turn what I know into language that will stand the test of time. And what kind of test is that, exactly? Time looks at me over the top of his reading glasses. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” Time says.
When we take the time to quiet our minds and go within, we can begin to open our eyes to the beauty and meaning in our lives. We can awaken to the natural world and the richness of our relationships with others. When we take time to see the sun rise and set, to really see the exploding colors of the universe, we awaken ourselves from cynicism and despair and open our hearts to the mysteries of nature, our bodies, our lives.
In silence, we see more clearly our thoughts and feelings, our hopes and losses, and if we continue with the silence, we feel the tug of the Spirit calling us to a larger life. There is nothing to do in that silence but “be”. There are no landmarks, no GPS systems to guide us, save for the rhythym of our own hearbeat, and the rise and fall of our own breath.
Ultimately, we find that real freedom is born out of a capacity to work with any energy or difficulty that arises. Real freedom comes when we are quite present and have come to rest in the moment. This is when we find that which we were running around seeking is at our door.
November 9, 2008
It is the next day. I was interrupted yesterday by one of the fellows with a need. I have become a “counselor” here. They seem to think I have the answers to their problems. Of course, I don’t always have those answers, but I listen to them and I care, and that is often what is needed.
November 6th was my 10 year anniversary in here, and I’ve been thinking of that, of what a transformative experience it has been, and what I would like to do when I get out. I wrote some of those thoughts in a letter to another friend and he typed it up, phrased it in a poetic format, and sent it back to me. He sent extra copies, so I’ll enclose one for you.
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