The Morning Fire is Lighted
The sky above all prayers
does not choose sides.
So we choose again –
each morning, each meeting, each moment of heat –
to respond instead of react,
to include instead of conquer,
to listen long enough
for the deeper truth to surface.
Myra Jackson (excerpt from The Agreement Beneath All Names)
I sit by the fire early this blog morning cozy, safe, grateful. Prayerful for those in harm’s way, those grieving loss (as we all are as we witness seemingly impossible horrors on our doorstep), those in fear, for those who protest and the Venerable Monks walking for peace. I’m prayerful for those on the path of angry action, reaction, greed, domination, demonization. May love pierce all hardening in all of our hearts to soften, open, and call all to higher service. May the light of love cast out the darkness of separation so that All know that we are One.
I’m prayerfully present to witnessing the extreme contrasts present in our world offering us pointed choices for the path we will follow each and every moment – inclusion or domination, harmony or conflict, demonizing or humanizing, judgement or discernment, kindness and compassion or cruelty and caring.
Rather than choosing sides, this week I’ve put my attention on tending the fire of peace, inner peace. Full presence. For it is that peace, and only that peace, from which I can choose again. And it is only being fully present in each moment that I hold that power, power that is in each of our hearts. No matter how dim.
Inspired by the monks on the Walk for Peace, I’ve become more aware of how busy my mind is with such purposeless thoughts that create the internal environment for reactivity rather than response. Letting them go is easy, while keeping another from entering is more challenging. Being fully present to the nourishing bowl of soup is a quest. Can I be fully present to its yumminess without the static of thoughts about what I need to do next or the sad state of the world? Or the distraction of watching a YouTube video? Can I simply be present and grateful? Can I focus fully on this moment with awareness of all that it offers?
Can I do the same when I next walk in the woods out back? When I hug the Mother Pinion Tree? When I gaze at the mountain? Of course, I can. How deeply will I practice?
Tending the hearth fire that warms my home is much easier than tending the inner fire, taming its tendency to react with judgement to that and those with which and whom I disagree. I’m taming the fire from which snarky thoughts, though rarely spoken, emerge and pollute consciousness – mine and ours. I’m taming the fire of worry about an unknown future and embracing not only what’s possible, but that which seems impossible, knowing that together we make the impossible not only possible but real.
Practicing presence helps.
Join me?
The Mountain from the Woods Out Back