I know you read this, but I don’t know why.
Understanding that you read, I suppose I’ll write.
The change in me this year has stemmed from one particular shift in how I think about the world and my place in it.
When I was regularly meditating and sitting with a sangha, mindful awareness of suffering became a Virtue.
This altered my relationship to the world, gave me an ideal to strive toward, and made experience much richer with all of its complexities — something to behold, perceive, and even enjoy.
I still hold all of that, implement, and practice it, although I’ve grown deeper and I think better rooted and founded. (We’ll see how that plays out.)
As when I was in a creative writing department, when I sat with my sangha and tried to process the various motivations which brought people there, I was always trying to find the Why behind the How.
David Lynch’s descriptions of his conception of the Unified Field started the whole process, and it touched something that Vajrayana also was suggesting.
This touched with St. Aquinas’ idea (which resonates with Orthodox conceptions) of Divine Simplicity and created a spark.
Marilynne Robinson’s writing, in particular her novels Houskeeping and Gilead, but especially her book of essays The Givenness of Things brought me in touch with the idea that’s awakened me this year (although I read them five years ago now).
The thing that gets me out of bed now, and every day allows me to transcend anxiety and welcome whatever happens, is the idea that this Life is a precious gift which is always already Good, especially when things get bad.
And every living being (yes, all animals included) experiences this same gift, and thus should also be cherished, respected, treated with common dignity (even when that seems unjust, especially when it seems unjust), and understood as someone who can help me better understand myself.
To forsake this — whether it’s through alcohol or any other form of suicide —is to show ingratitude for this miracle.
There, I said it. Because I do think it’s a miracle.
We could get into etymologies or definitions. I used the word because I think it works and shows the real mystery of the phenomenon.
Because it’s also a mystery, and a Beautiful one.
The many amends I need to make (and yes, I have a list — the point is to be willing) might never result in some happy life, where everyone says “Ah, yes, Aaron’s changed now. We love him!”
I might very well never get out of this specific economic trap and suddenly become healthy, happy, and wise.
But whatever comes from Life and my (consistently failing) attempts to act accordingly, for as long as I wake from these peculiar dreams I keep having and take in a breath, I AM.
And that’s not only good enough, it’s actually Beautiful.
Celebrating this has allowed me to get past the fact that I’m full of fear and resentment, and inspired me to at the very least accept my responsibility for what it is.
Strange as it sounds, I never had that before this year. Everything was always an obstacle to some ideal life I thought I’d eventually have if I could just do the next right thing and make the next right choice.
But the challenge of accepting and valuing this gift of Life isn’t to become some Hero in somebody’s story.
It’s to simply Be, as it is, and to recognize the Virtues of that as the treasure that they are, and to exemplify this as best I can in my interactions with others.
If I died penniless and in debt tomorrow, and no one came to my funeral (if I even had one), the Life itself would be no less valuable, no less cause for celebration even if there was no music.
Many people don’t like using a three-letter noun to represent our Source and End and all of the values, aspirations, mental phenomena, ideals, morals, mathematical realities, and blank that comes along with it.
But then again, many people do, and when I use that word in solitary contemplation to attune myself to Reality in a personal way, manifesting a grateful disposition and calling myself to be fully present, honest, just, and (although I struggle with this one) courageous, it is a beneficial practice.
For I am a person, and imaginary though my friend may be, I am a proponent, like Coleridge, of the Imagination as yet another magnificent aspect of this gift I’ve been given.
In fact, more than just a gift — the Imagination is a power, a gift that when yielded properly shines holy Light on all the other gifts.
Happy to be here, and happy to share with you.
Auspiciously,
Aaron