Questions, Art & Community
Saraswati, Goddess of the Arts
The initial shock of the election results is fading, leaving a dull ache of impending doom in its wake, which I am not expecting to fade. As the president-elect’s cabinet picks keep rolling in, the absurdity has begun to feel somewhat normal, which is not awesome. Or, maybe the situation is awesome— as in the original roots of the word awe, which imply “dread, terror, and wonder inspired by authority, the sacred or the sublime.” Fine line between awesome and awful, I suppose. At any rate, I don’t have much to say about that situation other than the small comfort that has come from hearing the election was actually closer than it seemed when the initial results were tallied.
Small comfort, really. But something is better than nothing.
As is my usual way, I have been coping by throwing myself into my activities of daily living and holding fast to my practices of self-care and self-study. Meditation helps. Writing helps. Reading helps. Exercise of all kinds— asana, running, lifting weights, walking—helps. Good food helps. Connection with others helps. In general, routine helps. So does sleep. And with the time change, I am finding I need more sleep than I did during the long days of summer. And, of course, there are dogs. Dogs definitely help.
I remember a time when I felt spiritual practices were going somewhere— leading toward a fulfillment of promise that would manifest in some kind of outer expression of optimal well-being and societal peace. If you know me, I am not a particularly optimistic person and I have never found rose-colored glasses much to my liking. That being said, in retrospect, I see many pockets of unconscious assumptions that guided my efforts and fueled my participation in inner work that were established in a premise that practice was leading somewhere positive, progressive, and peaceful and that I would see said unfolding in my lifetime.
To be clear, I think there is a somewhere, but the somewhere isn’t what or where I thought it was or would be. And I have come to understand that the cycles of evolution and progress are much larger than I envisioned in my younger years.
I was listening to a friend talk about the way her image of God is unfolding. She said that she always thought God and prayer would “keep her safe” or “keep bad things from happening to her and the ones she loved.” She explained that while she no longer thinks this is what God or prayer is for, she still believes in a power greater than herself only. She remarked, “You know, when I read the Bible, it seems clear to me now that here is no promise of things working out, of bad things not happening, or anything like what I was taught about God as a child. There is only a promise that I am not, and will not be, alone.”
I have a Buddhist friend who recently reminded me, “Well, you should be thankful you feel disillusioned about the nature of reality and the purpose of practice. After all, the point of the path is just that— to be free of illusion.” Leave it to the Buddhists to take sentimentality out of the equation whenever possible.
Whether you define faith in religious terms or in more secular humanistic terms; whether you are atheist, agnostic, or undecided, it seems to me that current events are inspiring many people to do some soul searching and to take a deep dive into clarifying what brings comfort, provides strength, and what will sustain open-hearted engagement with life as it is over time. There is plenty for which to be grateful in that inward-looking process and plenty with which to practice to bring one’s discoveries into expression through conscious action.
I have long since grown uninterested in prescribing means and methods for other people to access inner wisdom, to cultivate inner strength and develop relational resiliency. I know some of what helps me and I am interested in what helps others. I am, however, very cautious when phrases like “people need to” or “people should” pop into my stream of consciousness and do my best to withdraw my attention from a vague sense of “they” and “them” and to focus my efforts on the specificity of my own inner work. I have often said that I see yoga — or any spiritual practice, for that matter— as a process of asking questions. And while many of us engage that question-asking process in community, there is no guarantee that everyone in the community will arrive at the same answer. In fact, it’s highly likely that we will arrive at different conclusions. The great paradox of community is that we need enough similarity to form a group and enough difference to allow for autonomy, authenticity, and individuality. Not an easy task.
My spiritual teacher was an art enthusiast and in the last years of his life, he sold Asian antiquities and spiritually-inspired art of all kinds. As a result of his passion in art, many of us in the sangha became collectors. One of the informal rituals of visiting one another often involves touring one another’s homes and art collections. Many of us have paintings and prints from the same artists. I have always been intrigued by the way that each of us chooses different mats, frames, and placements for the same image. It’s a perfect metaphor for community, I think. On the one hand, we have a similar experience or picture— life with a teacher, studying the teachings and engaging a set of practices. But each one of us has a different frame around the picture, chooses a mat that highlights a different color within the image, and places the picture in a different place within our home or ongoing lived experience.
Same questions, different answers.
And so, as I continue the question-asking process of practice, I remain bolstered by the good company of so many others who are doing the same. I remain committed to expanding enough to hold the reality of our different answers and to knowing myself enough to have meaningful boundaries within the effort of this expansion. And while I no longer see the process of practice in the same way as I once did, I remain committed to asking questions through sitting quietly, making shapes on a mat, studying the teachings, running on the trail, lifting heavy shit at the gym, and listening to others with as much presence as I can muster. And I remain interested in the many ways life as it is answers my questions and never fails to offer me more to explore.
All right, more soon.
Keep the faith.
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