Beyond the Wave

I've seen Dave Martin's image of an oily wave crashing to the shore many times in the past weeks. The wave has been posted again and again by those who see it for the first time. In my mind, each time I see it, another wave crashes on yet another shoreline, in that continuity of sea that we consider a symbol of the movement of the vast. I am overwhelmed by its horror--and its beauty.

If even the disaster in the Gulf of Mexico cannot wake us up, I wonder if anything will--except, in some last moment, the truth of our own extinction.

The stories of our fate are so dire (and fairly immediate) that they are hard to absorb, even for those who care, as many Native Americas do, about the Seventh Generation, about those who are to come, and about the nature of our own present human community. For the greed-driven, who appear to care for little beyond their own life span, our fate seems cloaked in denial.

The possible tainting of all the oceans in the world seems to me to be sufficient call for change, for spiritual engagement (whatever that means to each of us), and involvement within and of the collective of which we are a part. Interconnection is undeniable; we see it in all of nature. We see it more clearly today in a rapidly diminishing diversity of species, the broken links in the chain of life, the torn web.

Buddhism describes the world--the universe--as a jeweled net, with a jewel at each intersection of the weave of the netting. Vedanta captures in three words that sense of oneness: "That Thou Art." The Lakota Sioux end each prayer with Mi taku oyasin (all my family). The acknowledgment of our universality is common parlance among us.

The potential of using that interconnection is now made visible to anyone who has any familiarity with technological wonders such as the Internet.

Spiritual engagement, to me, doesn't mean choosing an organized church or temple or synagogue and going there on Sunday (or Friday, or whatever day the sect requires), though for many this remains a significant and meaningful act. For me, it means cleaning up my own life to the best of my ability, with the help of what might be called a Higher Power: a circle of friends, a god of one sort or another, a scrapbook of family memories, a teacher--secular or spiritual--of tested truth and value, the love of a child and love for that child. Whatever, that is, that holds me to the center of my life.

Engagement is the important word to me. If my life is in order and "working,"--that is, if I have time, energy, and willingness to give of myself--then I am returning what I am being given. Giving, in this sense, is not a conscious action: it is merely the natural Way, the flow of human activity.

The other day, my Taiwanese restaurant-owner friend showed me her philosophy with a simple turn of the hand. Palm up: you are asking something of the world, wanting, desiring, acting from the hope for personal power and from greed, the seeking for gain that makes our "society" operative today. Palm down: you are giving out whatever you have to give. That is your work, and you will be supported in it. A Taoist view this is, but one common to most "spiritual" paths.

Perhaps we need a new word. Spiritual, to me, assumes interconnectedness--the net, the web of all sentient beingness. It does not imply some link that comes only with being human. Spiritual may be tainted by its association with religious, which has come to mean, in our times, the practice of a set of chosen values associated with a sect that defines a god as “only this.” Such practice, in my view, narrows the definition of Higher Power. It creates a box. It measures the meaning of God (to use a common name) to worldly values, the goals of greed, the lust for power. It divides the meaning of “only” into “this” and “not this.”

Big words, these. Big abstract words that don't illuminate the everyday, the intimate, the warmth of deep relationships, the gestures of art and music and poetry toward describing what's out of the box.

My God, if she/he/it has a name, is “Only.” All. With a name come edges, limits, boundaries. Another step beyond name is Nameless. The box dissolves.

A friend of mine reports a conversation she once had. Someone said to her, "I wish you would teach me to think as you do." My friend asked what that meant. "You think out of the box." My friend replied, "What box?"

Drawing by Hokusai (1760-1849)

Satellite photograph by DigitalGlobe (June 15, 2010)