In the beginning, we were One. When we were born we were all part of the universe, like water and trees and passing storms. We were not unconscous but we were not yet aware that we were separate. This changed all too quickly.
How old were you when you became aware that you were separate from the adults around you? I remember being three years old. I was outside in the backyard, engaged in a mighty struggle. A tricycle had tipped over and I was picking it up by the handlebars and seat and setting it right. This took strenghth and dexterity and determination! And I did it! I was also demonstrating to my twin brother that this feat could be done. My mother, who was standing nearby talking to another adult, turned and saw what I had accomplished. I fully expected to fully appreciate the effort and the feeling of accomplishment I was experiencing. I stood there in the grass on my own two sturdy little legs expecting her to beam with recognition…but to my horror she laughted at me!
To be clear, she was laughing with affection. How cute I was, doing this little thing! But to me, it was a huge thing. In that moment, a knife dropped, severing the chord of perfect communion that had existed between us. She loved me and I felt connected to her, even in that shattering moment. But I suddenly realized that we were separate beings. It turned out that there was a very big difference between my consciousness–my feeling for my life– and her preception of me.
Even in the best of cases, our mothers and the adults in our lives drive us out of the garden of oneness. We learn thanks to them and the culture at large to try to be special, to win their attention and approval. Or we try really hard to rebel.
Our task on earth, the aim of our spiritual practices, is to heal our sense of separation, our haunted drive to be special or our rebellion against all that. We long to make our way back to the garden, before we ate of the tree of good and evil, me and them.
How do we do this? It begins by allowing ourselves to be seen by loving attention.
May is the month of Mother’s Day in the U.S. And it has become a tradition with me to remind us all that this beautiful practice is ultimately a way to offer ourselves the kind of unconditional, loving attention we longed to receive from our own flesh and blood mothers. Many of never had the experience of being completely seen–every part–and completely loved. This drives us towards religons and practices and all kinds of things. I recently saw a cartoon of a person staring into a completely empty refrigerator. The caption read: “What you seek is already inside you.”The good news is that this loving attenton is here to be found. And it begins with that deceptively simple movement of sitting down and being still, letting everything be just as it is.”When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me. Speaking words of wisdom, let it be. And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me. Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.”
Paul McCartney wrote this famous song about his own mother Mary, who died when he was 14 years old. We know what we need in times of trouble. In our hours of darkness, in our times of broken- heartedness and difficulty, what most of us want the most is a caring presence. We do not want advice or a pep talk. We want to be seen and heard and known. We want to be accepted as we really are, including the parts of us that hold pain and anger and fear.
Some of us were fortunate enough to have had loving mothers who demonstrate this kind of calm caring. They may have been far from perfect most of the time. But sometimes, when the chips were down, they gave us that kind of compassion that is not separate from wisdom–that is pure loving attention. But many of us didn’t know this kind of loving, accepting awareness. We fret that we won’t be able to find it because it is so unknow. The good news is that we can prectice right here and right now.
“Darling, I am here for you.” The great Zen master Thich Nhat Hahn composed this “mantra of true presence.” Please consider saying this to yourself. Look in the mirror in the morning and say it. Say it late at night when you can’t sleep. Say it all the time. Offer yourself the gift of kind attention. Have the kind intention to let yourself be.
“Darling, I know you are there and I am so happy.” This is another mantra from the Zen master. What a wonderful thing to hear! Some of the people claim to not like this phrase, preferring, “I’m here for you” or “I’m here for you, buddy” or something. But truthfully, we all want to be dear to someone and yes, even darling, and to have our mere presence make someone happy. And it turns out that we don’t have to pine and wait! We can say this mantra anytime, and lots of times. And it may be that tiny moments of letting ourselves be, offering ourselves the reminder that we are wonderful just as we are, literally full of wonder, can change our lives.
Let it be. Let the body be the body, just as you find it today. Let the feelings be the feelings. Let the thoughts be the thoughts. Let the world be the world. If there is to be an answer or an insight, if there is to be healing of the heartbreak and soothing of the pain and trouble, it starts and ends here. We accept reality. And we dare to show ourselves just as we are to a greater, nonjudgmental attention. We know that we are lovable.
Another mantra of true presence from Thich Nhat Hahn is: “Darling, I know you are suffering. That is why I am here for you.” The last and most challenging is: “Darling, I suffer. I am trying my best to practice. Please help me.” This is the most challenging, because it means admitting to a loved one that they are making you suffer.
Undertaking this practice of offering ourselves a bit of kind, nonjudgmental attention, letting everything be just as it is, we may begin to glimpse what love could be. It just might be a force that allows an easing of fear, a little bit of luminous energy that allows us to see ourselves as a person of interest–not just in our best moments and manifestations but even when our internal wounded children rear their wild little heads–the whole of us, damaged and undamaged, conscious or lost in the past, all of us genuinely worthy of care and interest. As we work this way, welcoming ourselves into the light of our own kind attention, letting every part be, we discover that darkness and loneliness not deepest thing in us. Love is.
Thank you for reading! And thank you for purchasing my book PRESENCE; THE ART OF BEING AT HOME IN YOURSELF at Amazon or other stores!