Surrender

How hard can it be to surrender? Why do we resist so? In oh so many ways we hear the creator calling to us and yet we won’t turn to meet its gaze. Does the leaf cling to the tree in autumn? Do caterpillars refuse to enter the cocoon? The sun gives way to the night, and there is never a pause. Why do we struggle so when surrender would be the easier course? The mighty river is strongest when it is quiet, deep and gently flowing, always carving out its silent way.

I held a dying bird in my hand, it was oh so fragile and oh so soft. It lay there breathing, at first struggling and then resigned. It waited quietly and I held on fast, not wanting this little bird to die. I hoped against hope it would repair itself and suddenly fly away, but instead this tiny teacher of all things great, surrendered without a sound and was gone.

Oh, Divine spirit, I am here, help me open my heart, so I might be like the mighty river and this tiny bird. Open, naked and fluid. Flowing slowly, and deep. Crack open my heart and let me hear the truth. You are all I need. You are all. Help me to surrender, release and land in the beauty of love.

Inspiration Lost

My inspiration is speaking
Whispering in my ear.
Listen, I am drawing near.
Never quite in hand
Also just around the bend

Listen, can you hear?

No, I can’t, I am just
Not in touch. I am lost.
Caught in the turmoil of
My thoughts.
Never knowing where or how.

Help me hear. Help me feel.
Help me see.

I am lost, caught in the tangle
Of me. Take me to that empty place,
The place of endless dreams.
Pure potentiality. Nothingness
Supreme.

Pull the thread, start it at the end,
Let it unravel, spinning round and round.
Let it unravel and pull it all away.
Show me me. Show me how.
I am lost in the tangle of me.

Fading now, all thoughts go away.
I am lost completely but somehow I am found.
Take me home, hold me close.
This is how I thought it’d be.
Peace and nothingness yet oh so full.


~~~Susan Wexler

Every morning I wake up (thank God!) and I look at the trees outside my window, they are my silent sentinels. I see them in the summer, lush and green; hiding birds and squirrels from view. In the winter their bones show. In all kinds of weather they sway to the slightest breeze. Always standing guard. Ready to receive the sunlight; standing tall. But, always they have their branches raised to God in glory. Standing in a position of praise and gratitude.

Perhaps, I can learn from them…

There is a structure to the Universe; the path to enlightenment is laid out before you, and you must not deviate from it.

This was a dream I had two nights ago. It was a voice booming out at me, which woke me up. What does it mean? Honestly, I’m not too sure. I have always thought that there are many pathways to enlightenment; as many paths as there are sentient beings, so this statement on the surface really isn’t in keeping with my beliefs. On the surface, it would seem that there is one path and we should not allow ourselves to stray, but if you read it enough times, it is utterly in keeping with my original premise.

We are all on our own path to enlightenment. Some of us will get there quickly and without too much effort (I want to meet one of these folks!); others are on an arduous path with many twists and turns accompanied by much suffering. Most of us are just plodding along, one foot in front of the other. We are all going to get there, but it is just going to be a different path for all of us. We must follow our own path.

So, does this mean that we don’t need a guru, teacher or a saint to follow? I tend to agree with that, but also I feel that ideals give us something to strive for. Teachers can spark a thought or idea that will change your course a bit and help you not to deviate too much from your path. A guru can help you to discipline your mind and saints are ideals for us to emulate. However, we don’t need someone rapping our knuckles and berating us into following their proscribed methods of enlightenment. All we find with someone like this is more attachment.

We all have the knowledge within us to chart our course home. As we live our lives we wrap ourselves in a cocoon of ego and protection. It is the juicy environment that can help us to morph into something else, but most of us become trapped inside this vessel of our own making. We cannot break free from it. Fear is what holds us back. Fear of what the world would look like if we were not who we thought we were. We are content to stay inside this safe and known place, never venturing a peek beyond our own confines to see what lies outside.

Being trapped in this state is the deviation that that voice in my dream speaks of. We must continue to walk our walk, one foot in front of the other. One insight in front of the next; building upon your knowledge, grow and keep on walking.

What is the purpose in trying to grow spiritually? It is a difficult road with many twists and turns; and sometimes few rewards. As I look into my soul, I see the hurts from a lifetime of living. It can be painful to really see who I am. Sometimes ignorance actually is bliss.

I have asked myself the hard questions, who am I, why am I seeking so, what am I seeking? I asked myself these questions over and over; these and more.

I am seeking to know God. I am seeking my divine self. The self that is worthy to know God. I want divine union. I want to know non-duality; to really understand it, to live it and to find my higher purpose.

It really has been a difficult road. I am continually faced with looking at my beliefs and myself. It sounds so egocentric and narcissistic to be so busy peering at me. It isn’t really. It is tough. I am faced with seeing beliefs that I didn’t even know I had. It isn’t pretty, a true narcissist would turn away and not want to see his naked truth.

Lately, I am confronted with my own bigotry. I never knew I was a bigot. During the struggles of the sixties, when I was just coming of age, I was in high school. But, I remember the demonstrations, the ugliness when a school was desegregated and how hateful white people could be. I read about lynchings and burning churches and crosses. I wanted to be older to don a sword and join in the battle. I read about Martin Luther King Jr. and he became my hero. Rosa Parks was my ideal. How could I be a bigot? I am not a bigot. I never was, but those were the lessons I learned at my family’s knee and I never knew that I really had learned my lessons well; until now.

But, there it is. I now see how I deal with a white person and how I deal with a black person. It is different, I don’t treat them the same. I am differential to a black person, perhaps solicitous is a more accurate word. I can be rude to white people, but never to a black person. If I was color blind, I would be rude to everybody, but I’m not. I have seen my judgments. I hear that ugly little voice that pops up and says things in my ear. Judgments based in nothing but bigotry. It is an ugly thing.

However, the seeing is necessary to spiritual growth. When that little voice pops up, I tell it to go away. I disagree with it and tell it is wrong. We are all God’s children. We are all God in all our differing colors, languages, creeds, mores and customs. We are God. I tell that voice repeatedly, again and again. I must create a new neural net in my brain that relinquishes the old belief and replaces it with the new one, we are all God.

This belief is a very deep seeded bias that must be rooted out to continue my journey to non-duality. I find it very painful that I could hold such beliefs. But, this is another step towards eradicating the causes of separation from God.

I know the analogy of the caterpillar in the cocoon is over used, but it really is applicable. I am in the cocoon now and starting to break through it. All those silken threads are tightly wrapped around me and I have to break through each one in order to get out of this place. But, it is necessary to see all these threads that are holding me in place if I am ever going to be able to fly. They all must be broken.

One by I one I nibble and gnaw. The taste is bitter in my mouth, but with each old bias and belief that I cut, the closer I am to stepping fully into God.

Morning is breaking; steely winter light is the appropriate description. Jon is snoring and the cat is complaining. Otto is content to drift in and out of consciousness; he is curled against my leg. Oh, the joys of Saturday mornings!

I look at my life and I read the Tao, what an incredible document it is. There are so many facets, so many twists and turns and small delights, and oh so, many ways of finding yourself in it. So simple and yet so unbelievably profound. At times, I am the stream and at times I am the stream bed. My fields are lush in their growth, and at times, my fields are all churned up muddy messes. I am the bowl and the water too. I find solace in the words, I find that my village is self-contained and I really need not look to other villages to fulfill my needs. It is all contained right here.

I think of my ministry and I feel a tremendous amount of pressure to find a spiritual home in which to perform great miracles with fishes and loaves and to be of service What if I never do? What if I spent two years of my life studying and writing paper after paper, and never find this mythical mystical place that wants to have me as its spiritual director?

Well, on this steely Saturday morning, I say it doesn’t matter. I studied for me and my spiritual growth and I have grown. I see the web I have woven, I see my ego’s dance, I know my nooks and crannies, and I even like them. However, the thing is to be of service and I have such a resistance to it. Me, me, me, me! I am reminded of the seagulls in “Finding Nemo.” There is a scene where all the seagulls are out foraging for food, one of them finds a morsel, I believe, and the rest of the seagulls start screaming, “Mine, mine mine!” All they say is “mine.” That’s how I feel. When do I lose the attachment to “me?” To be the light and lose this mantle that lays against my shoulders and weighs me down.

My aren’t I melodramatic? I sound like an ass.

I am not an enlightened being, but I try. I want to be of service. I want to have a ministry with meaning and not just to be “Marryin’ Sam.” I want to have relevance, and to help people, not just with spiritual things, but with everyday life. But, I see clearly, how “I” and “me” get in the way. I see my reluctance to get my hands dirty, I know I am afraid of their pain; if I get too close, their pain will become mine. And I am afraid.

So, now I turn to the one source that can see me through. I lay this problem at your feet, God. I turn it over to you. Help me find my way to my ministry. I surrender the “my” the “me” and the “I.” It will become apparent. I surrender.

Sometimes I feel like such a fraud; me, I’m going to be a minister. Minister of what, of whom? I sit in awe of my classmates and realize that I can never be as spiritual or deep as they. Why am I so simple, so plain?

The question this week is- what form will my ministry take? Will I speak from a pulpit? Will I hold the hand of a dying child or an elderly gentleman? Will I be in the trenches and minister to drug addicts and ex-cons? Will I run a beautiful retreat center where the lovely spiritual people can meet? I think not. But, what it will be I have no idea.

The other question is, what called me to service? I don’t have a clue. It sounds so silly to say that Judy made me do it. She didn’t make me do it or anything else. Yes, she show me the possibility, but I’m the one that took the plunge without a thought that the diving board would end.

So, here I am at the end of the board, my toes are hanging off, the crowds are waiting far below all poise to cheer or groan and I am frozen at the edge; too late to go back and too scared to jump. Help me, Lord, can you give me a shove that will propel me out and off this stupid board? Let me hear you voice, dear God. Give me a sign how my ministry will look, perhaps if I had an inkling of the direction, I could launch off this precarious pad.

My whole life I’ve never had a direction, is it enough just to send out blessings on the earth?

“Bless you, my child, I am a minister and I have the ear of God. Bless you. Bless you.”

Bullshit.

Ministry is about rolling up your sleeves and jumping in, hold a hand, find someone a new apartment, make a phone call; whatever it takes. Am I the kind of person that can do that? Who then will me my support?

Dear Lord, help me to surrender enough to let go of my doubts. Guide, Lord. I heard the call, I don’t know how. I heard the call, now light a little light in front of me to show the way. Please?