Humility in the Grandeur

After an encounter with someone I had once considered vastly different than me.

He told me that Adam and Eve saw the exact same stars and sky as we do now.
He told me that God "spread forth the heavens" in one grand gesture of joy.
He told me that the creator dilated time, made space fluidic, that the world is actually young.
He told me that the stars are meant only as objects of God's beauty.
He told me that in heaven we would be given a proper history lesson.
He told me that the basis of science was mostly an illusion.
He told me that what scientists said was too literal and even fundamentalist.
He told me that God is beyond all the facts that we were lead to know.

My impulse was to argue, at least at first. The earth only thousands of years old? Really? The stars made as ornaments? The material world not old, not real? "Science says...." I wanted to say as I lead into a defense. I wanted to be as sure as him.

But his face was lit like the sun with something beyond his certainty. Yes, he presented himself as absolutely knowing the truth. It was not quite smugness, but surety. It was not compassion but a type of bliss. It was not his understanding but a direct transmission. I admit, I was caught up in his reverie, in the idea of God majestically spreading forth the heavens.

It was no longer his fear or my own insecurity. 
It was no longer about my anger at having been instructed with the confidence of an opinion. It was not about disputing facts that neither of us were truly understanding.

My arguments fell away as I thought:
"What if he's right about something I do not understand?"  
"What would happen in our world if we just were present with each other?"

Then I fell into a deeper thought: "It's not even about right or wrong anymore." I was free to hear the glory and grace in his story of the great unfolding. I made a choice to drop my scientific armor and listen. I dropped my certainty and literalism for moments and was more present than before.

I made contact with all beings, not just with his heart or with my heart. Perhaps both of our views were illusions. And just why did it matter if we did breathe in illusion? What did I really get with being right? Why did I armor myself against his knowing the truth? Truly, the Great Mystery is enough for me now.

I do not have certain words about what occurred as I listened to my evangelical-mystical-fundamentalist brother. But instead of building a wall I decided to make a bridge. And then even the bridge between us fell. And wings, like those of the Bible's Holy Spirit, spread forth across my mind. My heart glowed for a moment like the ornaments of God's stars.

This man's story is as beautiful and rich as the miracle of my science. I've only been here six score years.
What is that compared to the miracles held within billions or even thousands of years?
What is that compared with the glory the stars reflect, whether that be plasma or creation?
Who am I in the story that I have woven about truth?
Who am I compared with the Mystery of Great an Abiding Love?


Rick

Machismo in the Spiritual-Creative Life

Let There be a Place For Everyone Here

The machismo-ego is alive and well in the spiritual lives of many people who have claimed higher ground. Men, women, contrite, spiritual... we're all susceptible . This realization had led to the hallmarks of machismo-ego I've witnessed in my life. Perhaps there is a similar list for you. I call this the machismo-ego triangle:

 

I thought I'd pretty much tied up or eliminated machismo from creative-spiritual life. After all, I pride myself on trying to be amenable, flexible, resilient, multidisciplinary, loyal to a daily practice, of service.

OK, I'll stop right there with the listing. You get the idea. One should be suspicious when they see the words "pride myself" at the beginning of a sentence. Pride/Arrogance is a sign for me that I am off kilter in my life.

Which leads me to another road I've gone down in my spiritual life: "Shoulds". I should live more reckless, should live carefully and patient, should be more open to the muse, should be less distracted, meditate more, work more... blah blah.

This leads to the third leg of the triangle: Work, in the forms of "If I'd only...".

If I'd only: just made the book happen, been able to all day and then write at night, made myself stronger-sterner-slicker, schmoozed with the fancy people, related to the poor, had a perfect farm-family-future.

You get the idea.   
Pride, shame, control, all in a shiny package of goodness. 
 

What's on your lists?

These are but the shadows of the much needed companions in a conscious reflective life:

 Gratitude, Integrity and Will. 

 I call this the Creative-Love Triad.

 

How easily self-soothing compassionate talk can morph into insidious defeating inner diatribes. From a reflection like: "I missed my writing this morning and I intend to show up at the writing desk tomorrow." to "Why the h--- didn't I just go and write. Even if it's slop, just do it."

That latter diatribe is Not helpful based on several  

Signs of Machismo Spirituality:

• Black and white thinking. Like statements implying  This is bad
• All or nothing statements. Like using the words ever and always
• Put down, cynical language. Eg. Why the h--- or the word slop.
• Immature "solutions". Just do it.

    

In my life, machismo has been based on fear and an inaccurate view of just what wonderful creations we all are. There is also a profound lack of empathy in machismo. 

How about for you?

When I shame my way into doing my work or my art, then soulless pablum is often the result. 

When I begin with gratitude and presence, then no matter what occurs, the process is healing.

An antidote to machismo is compassion.

Yet even in writing this, my ego raises its hairy unkempt head and says: "What a trite thing to say. Compassion. hmmpf."

Here's some antidotes to that cynical hmmpf...

Shame often comes forward during the richest times of discovery. 

First, just notice what is occurring within you.

Then Respond if Necessary.

A response to the hairy ego might be: "There, there, shadow self.  Thank you for trying to keep me safe. However, we have compassionate guides to help us. So please be Quiet and then we'll listen for Love."

Which leads to another antidote for the striving ego:    Prayer.

If the word prayer is a loaded term for you try using meditation, creativity, intention or dialogue instead. For me, prayer is usually the very thing I forget in the process of a creative day. And it's the thing I most often need.

The machismo ego says we're in control. There's a seductive half-truth in what the ego says. 

Instead of controlling sort of statements perhaps I can say:

"I have a will to be open to the sacred, a will to be available and present to what may show up on this page, on this canvas and in my family. I have a will to respond with kindness."

When I begin with prayer, simple and real solutions appear.

This morning I began my day unproductively, a little sad and somewhat beset all I had to do. Yet here I am connecting with you (hopefully). The words come haltingly and then they flow.  They have a ring of truth to my heart. But what the heart really wants to say is this:  

No matter who you are or what you've done, there is a valued living place set at the table for you. May we sit down together and pray before we partake in this feast of living in the strength of kindness."

Peace to you today.
May you find the compassion within integrity, will and gratitude.
May you know the real heart beneath the illusion of striving to be something else.

Love,
Rick

(c) Words and Images, Richard Sievers, January 2015, All Rights Reserved.