Who was Cassandra?
In the Iliad, she is described as the loveliest of the daughters
of Priam (King of Troy), and gifted with prophecy. The god Apollo
loved her, but she spurned him. As a punishment, he decreed
that no one would ever believe her. So when she told her fellow
Trojans that the Greeks were hiding inside the wooden horse...well,
you know what happened.
I bought my first pomegranates of the season today. They're sitting in a dark blue bowl across the room, exuding red. I can feel their heaviness from here, that heft that betrays the hidden interior, a room of dark crimson liquid, jewel-like seeds.
Pomegranates are associated, in my mind, with Ramadan, which will most likely begin this weekend with the first sighting of the new moon. Whenever I see that little sliver of crescent moon I think of it as a Ramadan moon, and feel affectionate toward my Muslim friends for whom it means so much, and holds so many memories. I've been fortunate to be invited to share some of the joy of this season with my friends over the past few years. Christians tend to think of Ramadan like Lent: a month of repentance, prayer and very difficult fasting - from sunrise to sunset every day. But for Muslims, I sometimes think it is more like a month-long celebration than a marathon, because they accept the challenge with such joy. Most Muslims seem to love Ramadan and look forward to it, even though the fasting can be difficult, because they feel it is the time when they draw closest to God, and when prayer is particularly acceptable and welcome to Him. They look forward to breaking the fast - to Medjool dates, and pomegranates, and special sweets, and meals with extended family and friends. Here, on the frontiers of Islam, I've watched my friends try to recreate something like the celebrations they remember from their native countries and childhood, improvising as best they can, gathering together a disparate group of people united only by their faith tradition, trying to find and invite every last Muslim in the area who might be feeling lonely or isolated from their family and culture. Their eyes glow as they tell of how they celebrated Ramadan as children: what it felt like, what it was like the first year they were allowed to fast. And I've participated in some events where the Muslim community has reached out to the community at large, inviting them for a Ramadan meal and some story-telling about a heritage that is central to at least one-sixth of humanity. These things give me hope.
7:34 PM
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Thursday, October 23, 2003
KANDINSKY AND SCHOENBERG
Composition V, 1911, by Vassily Kandinsky
"Today's dissonance in painting and music is merely the consonance of tomorrow." --Kandinsky
A good article about Vassily Kandinsky and Arnold Schoenberg, two prophets of modern art, is in today's New York Times, in conjunction with a new exhibit at the Jewish Museum.
"After finishing his painting, Kandinsky dashed off a breathless letter to Schoenberg in Vienna. "You don't know me," he wrote, but "what we are striving for and our whole manner of thought and feeling have so much in common. . . . The independent life of the individual voices in your compositions, is exactly what I am trying to find in my paintings..."
I couldn't believe my eyes when I got up this morning, and saw thick, wet snow covering the junipers and barberries and blanketing the lawn. It was all gone by 10:00 am, but the sky has been "spitting snow", as they say up here, all day. I'm not ready! There are bags of tulip bulbs waiting for my attention, and a vegetable garden to clean up, peonies to cut off...not to mention a million other tasks that have been languishing for the past month. Well, I'll get to the tulips, and if the gardens don't get straightened out until spring, it will be all right. Part of the joy of living in New England is the unpredictablility of the weather.
For here it is, nearly Halloween - All Hallow's Eve - and All Saint's Day. Our celebration of the latter is taking place this coming weekend, a week early, since our choir and many parishioners will be at Bishop-elect Gene Robinson's ordination on November 2nd. For All Saint's, we always sing a Requiem, with each part of the mass sung, as originally intended, in the correct place in the service, unlike a concert performance. Last year we did a modern Requiem by the British composer John Rutter. This year, though, we're doing the Mozart. Tonight is our last regular rehearsal, and Saturday morning we'll be rehearsing with orchestra. I look forward to the rehearsals and the performance with happiness; one of the great pleasures of my life is singing in this choir and getting the chance to learn and perform such wonderful music.
6:42 PM
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Wednesday, October 22, 2003
TWO POEMS written in autumn by Anna Akhmatova (1889-1966)
"Four Seasons of the Year"
I will return today To where I was in spring. I'm not grieving, I'm not angry, And only darkness accompanies me. How deep it is and velvety, Above all, always familiar to me, Like the leaf falling from the tree, Like the wind's lonely keening Over smooth ice.
October 12, 1959, Moscow
"Creation"
...it says: I remember everything simultaneously; Like the distant beam of a distant lighthouse. I carry the universe before me Like an easy burden in an outstretched palm, And in the depths, mysteriously growing, is the seed Of what is to come...
I'm very moved by the discussion that's going on in the comment thread about how to live in such a broken world. The last comment I read before writing this post was by Dale, who wrote about his practice of Tong Len (the Thich Nhat Hahn meditation I mentioned - thanks for the name, Dale), and how difficult it is. I agree. I also agree that we must try -- try to love and not hate, try consciously not to become poisoned by that which we despise.
I believe that we always have a choice about our attitude, about how we are going to approach any given situation in which we find ourselves. The people I admire the most are the ones who manage to find joy no matter what, the ones who are able to keep on loving and keep on giving hope to others. These extraordinary people weren't born that way - they worked on themselves consciously to transform their own hearts. We find examples in every religion and every culture, famous and unsung people alike. Many of us have known them personally too. Even as I fall far short, I hold this as a goal for myself - to be like that as much as I can, and to use my life to learn these lessons. Over time, we make progress. I can testify to that! I'm a different person now, at fifty-one, than I was at thirty. I hope I have enough life ahead of me to stay in the refining fire and continue to learn and grow.
Who do we really want to be? What kind of person, holding what in our heart? Maybe growing up during the cold war made my choices more sharp-edged: I was a little kid, all the adults around me were scared to death that we were all about to be fried, and none of these people I trusted with my life could offer me any real reassurance. I think I decided then that I was going to live as though there was a tomorrow, as though there was hope, because I couldn't live believing only in disaster and despair. Today the world is going through a crisis where violence and greed seem to have the upper hand, to be unstoppable. If we look through another, related lens, it seems as though human beings really may make the planet uninhabitable - surely, it could happen. 9/11 shattered our last illusions, our naive belief that everything is all right. But what am I going to do, in the face of that? Adopt a nihilistic philosophy? Live only for myself and my selfish desires? Crawl under a rock and cry until it's over? None of these are viable options for me, because I see all life as interrelated. Whatever I choose will affect others. My nihilism, hatred, or despair will infect those around me. On the other hand, if I choose love and hope, my world is transformed, and so is the world around me. This is not an abstract idea, it's real. Our choices and our attitude affects far more than we think, but it starts in small concentric circles, like a single raindrop falling into a pool.
Not-hating doesn't mean not being angry. Non-violence does not mean allowing yourself to become a victim, a doormat for greed and corruption. What I want to avoid is the hardness of heart that I've seen infecting the peace movement at times, where anger and frustration turn well-intentioned people into beings who are anything but peaceful: fighting among themselves, indulging in self-destructive behavior, and even turning to violence. But finding a path through these turbulent waters is very difficult: that's why disciplines such as meditation, prayer, or specific contemplative practices are so helpful. They hold up a mirror for us so that we can see the traps we may have fallen into in our thinking.
For each one of us, I think there is a door that leads to liberation. For one, it may be nature. For another, music, writing, or some other creative expression. For another, the love of family, or working with children or the elderly. We need to find what it is that brings us out of ourselves and renews us, gives us hope. What is our "well"? And we also need community, because this is too hard a path to travel alone.
6:23 PM
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Sunday, October 19, 2003
THANK YOU
I want to thank all the people who have been commenting on recent posts. Not only have you had a lot to say, but you encourage me to continue what I'm doing here, and that's very important to me. Maybe it doesn't seem like I could be at a loss for either words or motivation, but guess what - both happen. This is a partnership, as all writing and art is. We need one another. I am very grateful to hear from you, and I'd like to encourage those who read but seldom (or never!) write to send me a comment or an email. Please tell me what you like or don't like; tell me why you read this blog and what you're doing in your own life that's related to what we discuss here.
COMPASSION MEDITATION
Miguel wrote in a recent comment, and elaborated on his own blog, that he feels he has fallen into the trap of "hating", of having visceral negative feelings toward some of the people he holds responsible for current world crises and suffering. First, I'd like to say that if we're honest, most of us have these feelings - no matter how outwardly committed we may be to non-violence, peace movements, interfaith dialogue, or the like.
Once we recognize and admit that we have these negative feelings, though, we often feel consumed with guilt, or helpless in the face of them - are "we" just like "them"?
I found a useful practice some years ago in another book by Thich Naht Hahn - sorry, I can't remember which one. It's helped me deal with these negative feelings, and maybe others will find it useful.
Sit comfortably, and concentrate on your breathing for a few minutes to come to a calm state. Now, think of a person for whom you have genuine and easy love and affection. Feel the mutual love you share. Now, with each outward breath, send that person your love and good wishes. Meditate on this person and your relationship for a few minutes, always sending them your good will and wishes for their peace and happiness.
Now, move in your thoughts to a person for whom you feel neutral, or indifferent. Do the same thing. With each outward breath, send that person your good will. Feel yourself come into relationship with them, even if this is not possible in real life. Wish their happiness and well-being.
Now, focus on a person who it is very difficult for you to like, for whom you may even have feelings of hate. With each outward breath, send them peace, and wishes for a change of heart. In good will, meditate on this person, wishing for them the same openness and spirit as the person who it is easy for you to love. Do this for a few minutes.
I've found that this meditation works, in that it changes me. In Christianity we are taught to love our enemies, and told to pray for them. In Buddhism, we are expected to have compassion for all sentient beings - no exceptions. When we imagine a world where all of us are able to pray or meditate, with an open heart, for everyone else, we can see that this world would be quite different from teh one we inhabit. Peace begins with each of us. We don't have to like our "enemies", but when we allow them to enter into our hearts in the same way our friends, something happens and we cannot see them with the same solid detachment. In this practice, we also discover our own capacity for love. We are able to see ourselves as loving people, not haters, when we do a practice that is parallel for different people in our lives, and we are able to work on ourselves and notice change over time as our hard hearts become softer.
Maybe we need to ask why some people seem to be filled with love, while others cause untold suffering. The answer is that the latter type of person is completely out of touch with the true ground of their being. They do not understand what we are doing here on earth, what human life is about. This is the ultimate tragedy, and it's natural for us to hate them and revile them because they are causing huge harm. But it's very important not to get stuck there, because the negative energy of such people creates a reaction within us that perverts our sense of connectedness and breeds equal but opposite feelings of hatred, confusion, and depression in us. The only way to heal hatred in the world is through love. Listen to Desmond Tutu - he says this over and over again. So do other genuine spiritual leaders. We need to begin by confronting the seeds of hatred and negativity in ourselves, and start transforming them.
7:27 PM
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