Help from above

I'll be blunt. I'm asking for help.

No, I'm not in dire straits. My health is fine despite all my previous efforts to wear myself down. My family are wonderful and well, and my friendships are good and strong. My home is a place of love and respite. And I'm doing better and better at taking good care of myself and keeping it all on the rails.

Still, I need help. It bothers me to admit it, but I need to say it: to myself, out loud, and to anyone who's listening.

Mind you, I don't exactly know what kind of help I need. But in a general way, I am moving from a perspective of "I can do the improbable and the impossible both, all by myself!" to, "I have no idea what my path is, and I really would like some energy, a sign, and a helping hand."

It takes a lot for me to do this. I like to think I'm strong and capable, and it makes me feel a bit weak and whiney to ask for help. Besides, I've been so blessed in life, I really feel like I should exclusively be a helper, not the helpee. But I've delved into the depths of my darkness in a time of great personal change and growth, and the answer is clear: I can't get where I'm going without help.

I've been here before. I feel okay. I've turned my head to the sky and asked for what I need, and the answer came clearly, as it's always done before: the help I need is inside me. All the choices are mine. The path is mine to define, and I will not be given more than I can handle.

This is the cornerstone of my faith, and the foundation of my being.

Help is on the way.

Amen!

Basically Buddhist

I've been worrying this issue like a broken tooth for months, as I engage in the necessary contemplation of a change in the direction of my life. After a couple of liberating days in the snowbound near north, I'm finally ready to write about it.

It's no secret that my spirituality is a deep and abiding issue for me. In another time and place I'd have been a preacher, or a shaman, or a rabbi by avocation, and in fact I have been called all three things by well-meaning supporters at various points, in spite of what seems to me a glaring lack of focus and commitment on my part.

Anyway, for clarity's sake I find it helpful to state here what I percieve to be the three components of my spirituality, and I hope you will forgive the slightly clinical approach.

Number one is belief. That's what I call the received set of ideas that I operate on largely without questioning or without consideration. In my case I've teased a lot of these out, but lots remain. Loosely stated, my beliefs stem from small-town middle-class Canadian values, relatively liberal United Church Christianity, folk superstition, and a general understanding of Western science in a somewhat chunky mix. I acknowledge my beliefs but I try really hard not to be trapped by them. I have worked hard to let many of them go over the years.

Number two is faith. By that I mean, active belief, or belief that is not just received, but rather, invested in. I don't believe in God; I have faith in God. It's an ongoing, deliberate dialogue or exploration in which there is constant doubt and difficulty. Faith is really hard, but it does more for me than belief. My faith is a relationship between myself and the world and the divine as I am able to understand it. My faith has been deepened by world travel, by the study of global religions, and by my profound experiences engaging with the natural world from my earliest moments. In these I have been especially affected by the perspectives found in Native North American cosmology and I'm grateful to have grown up surrounded by the elements of the Ojibway worldview.

Number three is practice. Practice makes perfect, it's said; in my case, practice helps me strive toward balanced imperfection. In practice, I am a seeker. In practice, I am not a Christian, although I believe (see above) in grace, and I have faith (see above)in "a divinity that shapes our ends." In practice, I am bound by a certain rigour that stems from scientific thinking: I need some evidence. That said, I allow highly subjective evidence, because my practice and indeed my spirit are entirely subjective things.

In practice, I'm closest to being a Buddhist. Buddhism is based very simply on the Four Noble Truths first stated by Siddhartha Gautama (the Buddha) combined with a set of precepts for moral living and practices (the Eightfold Path) designed to foster loving-kindness. Buddhism's goal is not divine reward or punishment in heaven or hell. It is simply to release humans from suffering here and now, in the only world we know.

Thus in its essence, Buddhism is not a religion, it is a worldview. It does not attempt to understand (nor to deny!) God. As such it is at odds neither with my received Christian beliefs, nor the ongoing, deeply personal elaboration of my faith, nor with my continual encounters with the Great Spirit of this land, nor, indeed, with modern scientific thinking.

This is perhaps the farthest I've ever gone in stating this out loud, and I'm not sure why, but it's important to me right now to do that. I've talked lots about faith, and I have had, and continue to have, extraordinary, sublime, and even miraculous experiences in the face of the Creator, Created, and Creation (Father, Son and Holy Spirit, if you will). But I can't make them stick to me without practice. I can't be a better man without bettering my actions. I need a simple yardstick by which to measure my ways in this world. And I find that I need not only to believe in divinity, but also to practice humanity.

And so I find myself saying that I am basically Buddhist. It's a long journey. I've been dawdling on this path for about 17 years, since I first stumbled into the footseps of Siddartha Gautama in India at the age of 20, and I am quite sure I have gotten nearly nowhere. But since I have nearly nowhere to go... I feel okay about it. I find comfort in the clear statement of my own intent:

I take refuge in the Buddha, the enlightened one, but also in the fact of enlightenment, the possibility of becoming enlightened; in the enlightenment of Jesus, of Ghandi, and of others who have transcended the human condition to find the meeting ground of the humane and the divine.

I take refuge in the dhamma, the teachings of the Buddha, but also the enlightened teachings to be found throughout the world, the teachings of Jesus and of the Prophet and wise ones of many tribes, from King Solomon to Black Elk, and the teaching-in-action of gifted warriors from Joan of Ark to Martin Luther King to Terry Fox.

I take refuge in the sangha, in the community of those who follow the Middle Way of Buddhist practice, but also of those who simply practice loving-kindness, be they devoted sages like Mother Theresa or scientists like Jane Goodall or artists like Bono, or indeed like the church ladies and folk festival organizers and organic gardeners of our own neighbourhoods.

This is my profession. This is my practice. This is my path.

So be it!

Peace on Earth

Well, I'm tired from the travelling - to Montreal and back yesterday, and from Toronto to Nanaimo today - but I'm glad and grateful to have slogged my way through to the summit of the season, and now that I'm here, I'd like to plant the flag of Peace on Earth.

In my experience, there are a bunch of ways to get enough of a sense of personal peace, as a starter: Art, music, dreams, prayer, meditation, travel, lucky epiphany, and love are some of the main ones. But for me, the key ingredient that makes it all magical is faith.

It's faith. I need to actively believe. I can't just mouth the words and I can't just do as the tradition says. For a long time, I needed to leave the traditions of the 'faith of my fathers' behind me entirely. But in the process of doing that I discovered a kind of difficult, deeply personal, gut-wrenching, waxing-and-waning phenomenon that walks hand in hand with looming doubt... a thing called faith.

I have discovered this the hard way: the world is a better place when I believe it can be. God guides my hand when I believe my effort worthy of the guidance. My heart can be exercised and opened. I have seen enough moments of grace and glory to believe them worth the ongoing process of pursuit.

This is my wish for you and for all of us at this time of the year, so poignant and so precious for so many around the world: May your faith and mine and all our faiths be united in the effort of creating Peace on Earth. It's possible, and it's worth it.

Merry Christmas!

David.

Curse/blessing

My mind is a variable thing.

I suppose everyone's mind is. But at a certain point in my life, I wilfully took up the practice of observing myself, even to the point of observing my changing perceptions as they shift with the currents of my life. I have not been able to establish any greater stability by doing that, but at least I can watch myself wobble all over the place.

Right now I'm in a clarity phase. I've eliminated a lot of bad habits and stepped up some good ones, and the result has been to feel like I'm seeing a lot of things really clearly. It's a treat.
Except for one thing: seeing life really clearly isn't exactly cheery most of the time. To look squarely at things as I understand them is to look deep into a terrifying abyss. And that's the trouble.

Based on the facts, there's really only one way out of the human condition: to believe in something. If you believe in something, then it's not the facts, but the story that matters. But the fact is, you can never prove that believing in something works - except by going ahead and believing in it.

The curse/blessing of the post-modern man is to have too many things to believe in, and too many reasons not to believe at all.