Advent: Thursday, Week 1

Readings for today:

Psalm 18:1-20
Psalms 18: 21-50
Isaiah 2:12-22
1 Thessalonians 3:1-13
Luke 20: 27-40

Advent: Wednesday, Week 1

Readings for today:

Psalm 119:1 - 24
Psalms 12,13 and 14
Isaiah 2:1 - 11
1 Thessalonians 2:13 - 20
Luke 20: 19-26

Advent: Tuesday, Week 1

Readings for Today:

Psalms 5 and 6
Psalms 10 and 11
Isaiah 1:21 - 31
1 Thessalonians 2:1-12
Luke 20: 9-18

Advent: Monday, Week 1

Readings for today:

Psalms 1,2 and 3
Psalms 4 and 7
Isaiah 1:10 - 20
1 Thessalonians 1:1-10
Luke 20: 1-8

Advent begins: Sunday, Week 1

One challenge I face in writing this blog is that my morning meditation sometimes gets consumed by thoughts of "What shall I write today?"

I see that, on the first Saturday of Advent, there is a clear response to this in Luke, chapter 21, verses 14-15:

Settle it therefore in your minds, not to meditate beforehand how to answer; for I will give you a mouth and wisdom.

In order to spend some time honoring questions rather than answers, I have decided that for the next 4 weeks I will take on the daily readings for Advent, selecting a verse for each day and pairing a photo with it. I hope to keep my own observations to a minimum, so that the blog may take its shape from the readings for the season.

So today I begin with the readings for Sunday, the First Day of Advent, from the Daily Office Year One in the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer.

The Morning Psalms for today are 146 and 147.
The Evening Psalms are 111, 112, and 113.
The Old Testament Lesson Is Isaiah 1:1-9
The Epistle is 2 Peter 3:1-10
The Gospel is Matthew 25: 1-13

Unexpected shoals

For whatever reason, I woke up feeling vulnerable this morning: unfocused, unsure, undefended, anxious... It was more a body feeling than a mind feeling; as if I hadn't gotten enough sleep, or if my body chemistry was off in some way. But it was interesting to watch where my mind went with these feelings -- definitely off into some old tapes; definitely some replay action.

And then, in my study group this morning, it became apparent that several of us were left with some unresolved "stuff" from Thanksgiving. Discussing some of the difficult interactions various folks had experienced, one wise friend said something that jolted me back awake: "I figure, if I ask if there's something I did that upset them, and they say no, then I did my part and I can let it go." Hearing that, I realized I had asked the same question -- did I do something wrong? -- and had gotten the same response -- no, I'm fine, it's all okay -- but for some reason I was stuck in the second-guessing, worrying zone: did she mean it? Will this come back to bite me? Why didn't I handle that differently? Was I being manipulated?

So I asked my wise friend: how do you get to the point where you let go, and the woman said, "Oh, I study a lot of Buddhism, and I understand that we create our own suffering; I just choose not to play those tapes."

Oh, right. Duh. That's exactly what I was doing, allowing my own insecurities to tie me up in knots. I know better, or at least I thought I did, but I got so caught up in the drama that I didn't even notice -- which is the other bad part about those vulnerable days: it's like I forget everything I know about how to deal. It's pretty humbling, actually.

Sigh. More grist for the mill.

So why this picture?

Because it looks so safe and solid: the boat is home, tied up, resting. But that's not what the boat was made to do: it may be safe, sitting on land, but it's tipping, unsteady; it's not in its native element. No wonder I was feeling off-balance: I'd somehow gone aground, tripped up on what one skipper calls "a nasty bit of underwater topography." Because the real problem here was not whether or not the other person in this interaction was okay. The real problem is my own need to "do it right", to be loved, and my own sense that if I do it wrong all hell will break loose.

Hmm. I'd forgotten I was still carrying those treacherous subliminal shoals... or perhaps I just hadn't noticed the tide was running low.

Good to know, I guess. But now what? Do I just wait till the tide rises again so I can float off this little sandbar? Or should I untie the boat and wade right out into the depths?

The Space Within

While in Arizona we visited Taliesin West, Frank Lloyd Wright's winter home and school, set in the desert hills outside of Phoenix. This quote from Laotse, inscribed in brass on the wall of a small theater in the Taliesin complex, reads: "The Reality of the building does not consist in roof and walls but in the space within to be lived in."

I am reading Charlotte Joko Beck again this morning, and she talks about how we allow our thirsts to define us: our thirst for a mate, or for perfect children, or for a bigger home or a better job; our thirst for fame, or fortune, for beauty or even for enlightenment -- all these thirsts get in the way of happiness and freedom.

And it seems to me that these thirsts, like Lao-Tse's walls and roof, like the body itself, do not make up the reality of life. What is truly real, what truly defines our sense of well-being, is not that which is exterior to us but rather the life we live in the space within.

If all our thoughts and energies are focused on anger, or revenge -- on getting, or acquiring, or achieving; on worrying, or longing, or hurting -- the space within will be cluttered and claustrophobic, forcing us to depend more and more on what is outside of us. It is only when we stop to breathe, when we step into the silence and release our obsessive thoughts of past and future hurts and hopes, that we are able to open up the space within -- allowing it to breathe, allowing freedom and movement of thought without getting stuck or attached in a single pattern -- that we find the peace, joy, and acceptance that bring true happiness.