others differently?
• How would your life be different if you started to see and experience life as a child—as if doing, seeing and feeling everything for the first time?
• What would your life be like if you discovered something new about yourself every day? Move beyond the part that is visible to explore the mystery containing your wholeness—the parts that are often hidden and buried within.
Chapter 2
Renewing: Taking Care of the Gardener
“If I’m not for myself, who will be for me? If I am only for myself what am I? If not now, when?” —Rabbi Hillel
Do you ever take time to pause, be quiet and find space in your busy life? Too often we fill our lives with busyness because we’re afraid of what may arise during times of silence, space and quiet. What are we trying to avoid?
Experienced farmers know the value of resting the land or allowing the soil to “go fallow.” They rotate crops from one section of the field to the next, and every several years they stop planting in certain sections for a season or two to rest the land and revitalize the soil. In the Bible, people are instructed not to plow the land every seventh year, allowing the poor to take from it what grows so that both the land and disadvantaged benefit. This was in keeping with the custom of the Sabbath or the seventh day as a day of rest. Like the land and our gardens, the gardener too needs time to rest and renew.
Contrary to taking time for renewal, our society is caught in an epidemic of “hurry sickness.” Everyone keeps so busy and, as William James said, “They live in a state of ceaseless frenzy, thinking they should be doing something more than they are doing in the moment.”
Recently I spent time visiting the Washington, D.C. area. My daily routine was to drive to the train station, arriving early enough to find a parking space before embarking on Amtrak. After the forty-minute ride, the glut of passengers maneuvered to disembark and exit the station, walking quickly to their offices. Once, on my commute home, I dropped my Metro card at the turnstile, and with that seconds-long mistake, I missed the next train. This started a cascading series of events that required me to run six blocks down a busy urban street in time for an appointment. Despite my practice of mindfulness, I found I was easily immersed in the milieu and energy of this fast-paced environment in which so many seemed at ease, After several days I remembered when that frenzied lifestyle—minus the train—was once my everyday pattern.
While this type of hurry sickness is rare for me now, I am attuned to those seeds in me and easily become aware of people around me living in this frenzied way day after day, seldom having—or taking—time to stop, calm themselves, and take refuge. Every living thing seeks the security and refuge of a resting place, be that place in nature or in some quiet structure. Where might you find that refuge in your life?
“Refuge,” however, can be misleading. False refuge is hiding through busyness, fear, alcohol, drugs and food—anything to numb the pain of what is happening and avoid looking deeply at the challenges we may be experiencing. True refuge enjoyed in the present moment by purposely returning to ourselves to reconnect with who we are and what we are experiencing. When we are able to take refuge in loving self and others, then we have arrived in a place of security and love. Refuge in nature and self includes opportunities for the Three S’s: silence, finding space in our busy lives, and taking time to stop and rest along the way.
Silence
I regularly find true refuge at a local monastery, where the public is invited to come for prayer, reflection and meditation. As time permits, I spend the day reflecting, resting and writing. On one of these recent sojourns, I was struck by the silence and absence of outside stimuli except for the rare sound of a distant car. It was wonderful walking through the wild flowers and neatly planted gardens surrounding the modest buildings. Often after a day in this environment, I come away renewed. Retreating from the outside world provides solace and rest for mind, body and spirit. At the monastery there is a pamphlet for visitors, an invitation to enter “quietude,” to take stock of our lives and open ourselves to be available to a higher wisdom. A sign outside of the meditation hall reads, “Silence is as deep as eternity.” This environment fosters an opportunity to listen deeply.
In silence the mind naturally quiets, allowing both mind and body to mirror the outside environment. It is easier to slow our thinking and take time to focus on our habitual patterns—such as worry and fear—and redirect our minds to wholesome and renewing thoughts. Even a short time in a quiet environment can be enough to offer rest and renewal. No elaborate method or preparation is needed to benefit from silence, only the aspiration to make silence a priority.
Through my meditation practice I have learned that, even in this slowing of the mind, thoughts are present, though our minds are not as “reactive” to them in solitude and the natural environment. We can learn to observe our worries and fears just as we observe the flowers and wildlife that surround us in this natural refuge—possibly in our own backyard. You may not have the luxury of a trip to the monastery to take refuge from your busy life; however, a slow walk, a visit to a park, or sitting on the porch or patio may offer the same healing benefits.
The absence of outside noise makes it easier to form a deeper connection to nature and others. Perhaps the single quality that defines all mystical traditions is “Interbeing,” often described as oneness with all. After spending time in nature or attending retreats, I often leave feeling renewed and connected to nature and others in deeper ways. By entering the stream of silence, I experience Interbeing in personal ways. While I am often alone in these silent places, I feel a connection with everything, and I am never lonely.
In various traditions of meditation there is the concept of “noble silence,” which means unifying body, speech and mind as we go through the day. In noble silence, you are encouraged not to talk except for essential communication required with meals or chores. In silence it is easier to quiet the mind because there is no need to constantly respond to multiple conversations and dialogue. We have enough self-talk occurring constantly in our own minds. The more I practice noble silence, the more I am slowly finding as much joy in between words and in the presence of others without a need for a constant verbal expression of every thought.
“Silence is something that comes from our own hearts, and not from someone outside. If we are truly silent, then no matter what situation we find ourselves in, we can enjoy the silence. Silence does not only mean not talking and not doing loud things. Silence means that we’re not disturbed inside, there’s no talking inside.”
—Thich Nhat Hanh
Space
Every summer we are amazed at how certain perennials take over certain spaces in the garden. Year after year we have to thin the crocosmia to create room for less-hardy plants to find space and light.
In our busy lives, creating space for the activities of “being” vs. “doing” always brings renewal and healing. I used to find it easy to fill my daily schedule to the brim, like a cup of coffee with little room for cream. The other day when I stopped for my favorite brew, the barista asked, “Do you want it with room?”—meaning did I want room to add cream. Every time I hear that phrase, I am reminded that it’s okay to have fewer appointments, lunches or coffee dates and leave room for quiet time and reflection. The awareness that “less is often more” may become more important with age, or perhaps with wisdom.
When asked why his music was so beautiful, a famous pianist responded, “I strike the keys like most other musicians. It is the space between the notes that makes it beautiful.” The space between notes and the space between objects is what offers contrast and beauty. One of my favorite hobbies is photography, and one of my favorite subjects, as you can probably guess, is flowers. Finding space and distinction between the flowers offers contrast and beauty, and enough light for seeing these things.
“What makes a fire burn is space between the logs. A breathing space. Too much of a good thing, too many logs packed too tightly, can douse the flames just like a pail of water would. So building fires requires attention to the