Falling in Love
I’m walking in the woods on a brisk, sunny morning. The golden light shines through the branches, splitting beams in the slight morning mist. Reddish leaves crunch beneath my feet in early fall. I take each step slowly, deliberately. Looking all around, trying to take in every detail; every insect, every quiver of a tree in the slow gentle breeze. I can hear the sounds of the forest around me, but only if I listen carefully.
In the last part, we observed several aspects of the world, which include its ever-changing and impermanent nature. We have seen how certain phenomena give rise to the other traits of Nature we called out for observation. But these traits are more than just a collection of interesting observations. In our practice they should be what essentially amounts to the beginning of a love story.
What we call "awe and wonder" are essential to spirituality, but awe and wonder really equate to the beginning of the relationship - the infatuation stage. This is why so many 'religion-hoppers', like a serial dater, are always looking for the next one-night stand.
With practices that will be described later, the practitioner will begin to build a relationship with the cosmos. During infatuation, we often become enamored with our imagined version of the other. But as in any healthy relationship, we must love the cosmos for what it truly is – not our fantasy version of it.
It might be very easy to imagine that adjusting to impermanence could lead to nihilism. Impermanence means loss. The big picture of Cosmic Nature is about that which is larger than us, and it can be scary to think of ourselves as small, finite, and impermanent. It is not pleasant to think of ourselves or those we love passing away and one day not existing. We want to think of ourselves as the 'main character' of the movie, and to find we are only an extra is quite uncomfortable.
Thinking about mortality and loss can be so uncomfortable that many people prefer to let it sit in the back of their mind, and bury their attention in more shallow pursuits. Any one of those pursuits may be perfectly fine activities, but if they are merely sought as a distraction to a real worry that needs confronting, then reality is sure to catch up with them. When it comes they will be unprepared and the suffering will only be worse.
To confront this fear, we need to get comfortable thinking about it in more helpful ways. The Mulberry Path is not a nihilistic philosophy. We do not merely accept impermanence, but we seek to learn how to flourish within it.
Pema Chödrön, the popular Buddhist nun, author, and teacher, has said one way is to remember that each breath is a small birth and death1. By this I think she means that birth and death are a continuous process happening all around and within us all the time. For that matter, each time I go to bed at night, my consciousness is broken and I wake up a little different person than I was before (this is why we often ‘sleep on it’ to think about things differently).
If I go back further, say when I was a 13 year old boy, I have many memories of what that boy did and even thought, but they aren’t much different to me than if you implanted memories of what someone else did. I am not that person anymore. That person has died.
Going back further, when I think of the billions of years before I was born, I’ve never had any complaints about them. I have no reason to suspect the eons after my time to be much different2.
Yes, rebirth (and redeath) are happening all the time. What we must do is shift our focus from attachment to the forms, toward loving the process. In this way, it is like lying in a shallow stream as the water flows around us. We do not desperately grasp at the water to collect it all – we let go and come to see the beauty of the flow - Panta Rhei3.
But what we often do is forget the true nature of things. We purchase some prized item and we imagine we have gained something permanent. Then we are distraught to see it broken or stolen. If we had remembered that we had come to possess an impermanent thing, then we wouldn’t be so moved. If we were always mindful of the impermanence of our loved ones we might appreciate our time with them even more.
After one of my talks, someone asked a question about coping with tremendous things like 9/11. I said that was an excellent example because those two towers were like mountains to us. We saw them as permanent – a monument to our civilization. When they fell, aside from the terrible toll in human life, we also felt shock because they represented to us, in that place, the might and influence of our nation. In that moment we learned the hard way about impermanence. But the point is not to seek out impervious things, or seek to make them more impervious - but to treasure now in all its fragility.
Impermanence means endings, but it also means beginnings and potential. It makes all of the new and good things possible, and it is that flow that is necessary to both. It also means we don’t have to be trapped by our past or ourselves. Many people like to say, “Well that’s who I am” and use it as an excuse to continue in unhelpful behaviors. But the truth is, all things can change4. “Who you are” is boundless.
Back in the city of Houston, I stop by Rothko Chapel. Before getting out of the car, I put my phone on silent and leave it in the glove compartment. I am about to set foot on sacred ground and have a personal rule about leaving electronics behind. Walking up to the building I try to keep my mind clear and focused. As I pass the obelisk I observe its reflection in the still water before entering the silent interior of the chapel. I sit among the tall black void paintings surrounding me in pure silence and train all of my focus on the breath.
Sometimes it is easy to have a sense of the sacred. Sometimes we choose it; sometimes it falls upon us unexpectedly. Rationally, I know these places and events are devoid of inherent meaning. They are all the same: the chapel, the woods, the grocery store, the mall, the movie theater, the courthouse, the office, the dump, the moon of Europa. They are all the same here in terms of sacredness, at the base of understanding.
Sacred comes from Latin roots that mean ‘dedicated’ or ‘set apart’. Namely, those things set apart for veneration. Why would a Spiritual Naturalist see reason to set times, places, things, or events apart for veneration or reverence? As our practice is one of moving toward greater flourishing, a sense of the sacred is healthy and promotes well-being.
It can be a source of expression and sharing of experience. A sense of the sacred can be a tool for keeping perspective and balance in our lives and our values. It can be a source of inspiration, appreciation, and strength. A sense of the sacred is a way to invite love, beauty, and meaning into our lives. We don’t need to discover meaning or track it down like a starving hunter. Nor do we need it supplied to us like a pet. Rather, we are the source - we are the universe’s meaning-makers.
Before any outward ritual acts or movements of the body, we observe sacred moments or places first within. In the deepest core of our intention, we clear our minds as one clears the table for a feast. We center ourselves and bring attention to the meaning, the impact, the significance of the moment or place. Rituals and acts can grow from that inward state of sacredness. Things like leaving behind electronics or other distractions, breathing in special ways, movements such as bowing, and so on. These vary by tradition, custom, and most importantly, by what is personally meaningful and transformative to the practitioner.
In addition, we center onto certain aspects of ourselves. In a Zenlike space, we seek to think, act, and speak from our higher more aware and conscious dispositions, rather than quick, impulsive, impatient, petty, ego-based, intolerant, or judgmental aspects. In a more ecstatic environment, we may bring our instinctive, feeling, intuitive elements to the front, allowing ourselves to flow or be lost in the moment without self-consciousness.
Each of these has a role and a value in practice. This is how we reaffirm our value systems, experience them intuitively, and help to attune mental pathways consistently with them such that epiphany, harmony, and understanding ensue. This kind of talk can be frustratingly vague or overly poetic for some, but the answers become clearer with experience of sacred practices.
The question may arise, what should be considered sacred? French sociologist Émile Durkheim posited a dichotomy of the ‘sacred and profane’ as the central characteristic of all religion. He defined the profane as the ‘natural world of the senses’5. This leaves all Spiritual and Religious Naturalists out in the cold, so to speak. Therefore, we do not find any meaning or use in this dichotomy and instead employ a more suitable measure.
This question has many answers which can subtly overlap with simultaneous truths, depending on the particulars and the practitioner. But one approach is to consider those things most fundamental to the aim of our practice – flourishing.
Here we have a spectrum ranging from the most foundational, upward. The most foundational is natural law or Logos. Further up the ladder would be aspects of the cosmos that derive from the Logos, such as the Divine Fire, and then complexity, and emergence - on from there to life, consciousness, humanity, etc.
Coming into psychological harmony with these fundamental aspects of Nature helps to prepare us for the flow of life and what it brings. They eventually manifest in tertiary aspects of the cosmos, all the way up to sacred moments like the birth of a child, a marriage, and so on.
Our cat, Tigger, lies on my chest purring. He likes his head to be held and warmed. His whiskers are fine and elegant. He is so happy, and I wonder what his inner experience is like. I imagine, that if all of the cosmos was born, the stars cooked the heavier elements, the planets arose, life evolved, all so a being like him and me could share this moment, it would have all been worth it for that alone.
Appreciation of these kinds of traits of Nature not only helps us to come to expect things like loss or change, but we can eventually come to see a dynamic beauty to this fractal tapestry of Nature. Seeing it as beautiful is key to building a relationship with the cosmos, which is how we begin to walk with a sense of the sacred.
But much earlier than this, everyone can begin to approach the world with such a sense. It is the loss of this sense that has caused many problems today. Even within traditional religions, there has been a loss of the sacred as they have become more like political organizations than spiritual communities.
For example, perhaps more of a sense of the sacred in those who serve in government would help address many social problems. Perhaps the same for those in business. And what would happen to the culture within a police department if trainers and officers began to talk more openly and seriously about the sacredness of their role and mission in society? Perhaps a ‘bottom up’ rebirth of sacred virtue would be more effective than a ‘top down’ system of punishments and rewards.
My wife and I are at the beach. It’s too cold to be at the beach, but we go anyway. The birds are feeding, the shelled creatures crawling. The smell of salt water is in the air and we remove our shoes. Stepping into the water in new places has been something we’ve often made a point to do. We want to commune with the ocean womb of life. For us, this is church.
If sacred means ‘setting apart for reverence’, asking what is sacred begs the question of who it is that is doing the ‘setting apart’ and ‘revering’. Because all practitioners are different, and each becoming more aware in their own way and time, sacredness is a shifting, overlapping, and nested organism. Ultimately, as we are transformed through practice toward greater awareness, compassion, and wisdom, we begin to see the sacred in more and more places. Every step is as on sacred ground. It reveals itself at unexpected times. Its “beauty in the moonlight” overthrows us6.
And so, at the base of understanding all things were equal in sacredness. Next we differentiate steps on the ladder where the most primal and important things are found increasingly sacred, and the shallow things profane. But as we progress, we find sacredness in more and more things, until profanity can no longer be found. We come full circle to that place where all things are again equally sacred. “The world is holy!... the madman is holy as you my soul are holy!... Holy my mother in the insane asylum! Holy the jazzbands marijuana hipsters peace peyote pipes & drums! Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements!... Holy the mysterious rivers of tears under the streets!... Holy the vast lamb of the middleclass! Holy the crazy shepherds of rebellion! ...holy the Angel in Moloch!”7. They are all the same here, at the pinnacle of understanding.
I sit in the hospital holding my father’s hand as the machines monitor his vital signs. It is old, bruised, and cold. I think about the hand I often held as a child. He would not be with us much longer. I’m reminded of sitting in the same position with my mother’s hand a decade earlier. He lived a long life and was surrounded by a loving family. Today is hard for everyone, both Birth and Death are sacred moments. They are because they have to be.
When we learn to deeply know the cosmos we can then see the beauty in that vast and grand tapestry of creation; deeply fall in love and build that relationship with it. And this is why we describe Nature in sacred tongue. When we love someone we do not describe them like a doctor doing an autopsy. We use the language of poetry. Juliet IS the sun8.
Every step we take, then, becomes a sacred one and every moment a gift. Both the equanimous spiritual practitioner, and the nihilist have accepted impermanence. But it is this love affair with the cosmos that makes the difference between them. It also happens to be the first gleam that catches our eye and opens the door to possible transcendence beyond the ego.