Seeds

So here I am, reading this thread, and every single comment has something in it that moves me, touches my heart and soul, inspires me, makes me feel delight or awe or surprise, or gives me a sobering thought. I feel so rich. I am SO glad that I have done nothing to try to attract readers, have no advertisements, am not into popular blogging, and have in fact continued to follow, however dumbly, the invitation to blog that came to me a year ago from my innards.Because this, this, is why. I had no idea I would receive such gifts. Wow, I am so blessed to be able to get to know all of you.

For instance, here is Irene’s paragraph, and I copy it whole and intact because just look at it:

“Eve, I don’t think humans are rotten, though they act that way often enough. Lacking in any kind of love for themselves, I think it is fear that they come from. So their actions are rotten, consciously or not. A person makes the choice to act malevolently or kindly. Don’t they? Or perhaps I should rather ask you to define what you mean by rotten – was it literal? Some humans (i.e. their spirits?) have broken down from a state of wholeness to putrefaction? I mean, yes, I do see acts of pure evil, acts of confrontation, from others, and myself, being misguided by emotions and past pain. But the human creature within? Has mankind really disintegrated so badly that his acts have tainted his very spirit? I would feel like this is saying that there is no hope, that God is rotten, then, too. Which doesn’t feel right to me – and I’m not suggesting thats what you meant, either. Its just my (generally possibly naive) ponderings running along. Will you explain it a bit further? And your understanding of ‘evil’. Its such a powerful word. I tend to understand it mostly in the religious sense, but I think you may mean it in a broader context.”

I agree with Irene, firstly, that when people are rotten (bullies, mean, ugly, evil, etc.) most of the time they are coming from fear. It has been theorized by some that the only two primary emotions are fear and love. Not hate and love. I would like to think this is true, because if it is true then we can do away with evil, possibly. But then one must do away with the religious mindset, too. And I don’t, because I do believe in evil, having perceived it too many times. But still, Irene is onto something, isn’t she?

Look what she shows: a person’s choice, firstly, writing, “A person makes the choice to act malevolently or kindly, don’t they?” Yes, they do make the choice. We can’t control what our emotions do or even sometimes what our thoughts do, as they both can come to us unbidden from the deep well of the unconscious or as a fully conscious, real, immediate and honest reaction to something that occurs. But we can control what we do, and it’s our actions that make us responsible. Response-able. See? We are able to choose a response. This is one reason I so admire and adopt many teachings of Buddhism, because the mindfulness Buddha taught can give a person the time s/he needs to choose a response. A godly one.

So Irene asked me what did I mean by rotten-was my meaning literal? Wow! I love you, Irene! I love the way you intuit your way right into an issue. You gave me such a gift here! AHA! What do I mean, indeed? Yes, yes… I DO mean some human spirits have broken down from a state of wholeness to putrefaction. Yes, some have disintegrated so much that (and here we go)…. She asks whether his acts have tained his very spirit. No, his acts have not tainted “his very spirit,” and this brings me to a vantage point where I get to see what I actually do believe about people, thanks to Irene.

Going with this metaphor, what I actually believe is that a person can become rotten if unused and uncalled, or left hanging or rejected, like a tomato left on the vine and putrefying into a muddled puddle of disgusting, oozy tomato-ishness. And what’s left after that entire process is done? Even if the birds come and eat it, or I let my dog out the back door and he, being of such small brain, decides rotten tomatoes are yummy, and he eats it and it appears that nothing is left? What then? Well… the seeds. They may be in the bird or in the ground or in my dog to be excommunicated later, eh? But they’re there. They don’t break down. They do something. They may return to the earth and bear no further fruit, and become part of the earth that grows the grass or a dandelion or something (there is Heni’s reincarnation, in a way, eh?)… as Buddhism teaches, “all is one” eventually. An endless cycle.

But then, as Jesus taught, “unless a grain of wheat fall into the ground and die, it remains alone, by itself, and bears no fruit. But if it dies, it bears much fruit.” So without putrefying and rottenness, where is the fruit? Some fruit is used for eating; some falls unwanted to the ground, rots, and dies. But all fruit has seeds. Even rotten fruit.

I believe in the seed. I am always aware of the seed. I see the seed before me all the time, and I farm for seeds. I believe in the identity of the person or the fruit or the animal or the being created by God. I believe within the seed is an intention, not a “will of God” so much as a “way of God” in the person, but it is that person’s own unique, individual way, and yes, it is a  Hence in Proverbs we have the much-abused and mis-used verse, “raise up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.” A verse some fundamentalists use to “prove” that if you do the right thing as a parent, you can determine your child’s godly Christian outcome. Haha. Sure, sure. Live awhile and let your kids get to age 30 or so and then report back to me how perfectly that interpretation worked for you.

No, I don’t believe it’s that way. The original language says “according to his way.” You raise the child according to his way, his own particular seed. And he will then be a whole person. I believe every whole person needs, wants, and loves God naturally. Little kids know God and love him easily. And then they go to church and are often ruined. RUINED. Rotten. But the seed is always still there.

So, Irene, thank you for an amazing question and a wonderful metaphor. Yes, I am the one who wrote “rotten” and the seed of meaning was in that one word. But by asking a question and being willing to take the time to think out loud through writing on some dumb little blog like this one, look what you did! You and I both were given a gift. I thank you for that. I appreciate you.

There’s no end to the wonder of our lives, is there?

The Pragmatism of Love

A regular reader and friend wrote this comment recently, and I loved what he wrote so much that I am posting it for discussion. I did not ask permission to re-print this, but assumed the right to do it. So, David, if you’re bothered by it, just let me know. Otherwise I publish what I believe to be such wonderful intentions.

Renaissance Guy and David Rochester were discussing what to do with unwanted children. RG commented that, outside of Christian ethics (because Christianity, like Judaism, mandates the care of orphans), there’s no real moral mandate, other than human decency, for caretaking orphans and other neglected, unloved children. David replied:

There’s more to this than human decency, though certainly that’s a component. It’s pragmatism, as well. The world will be populated with these emotionally neglected and deprived kids. They will be at higher risk for substance abuse, for self-destructive acts, and for making choices that lead to more unwanted kids. The world is suffering from unconsciousness, and the more we ignore the population never given a chance to attain it, the more we’re all going to pay for that, in my opinion.

I think everyone is capable of making some difference to children who aren’t getting what they need. There’s not one person who couldn’t volunteer with a literacy program, or volunteer as a mentor, or at least contribute financially to support those programs. Not everyone is in a position to adopt or foster a child — I’m not, myself; I’m still a neurotic crazy mess, and completely unsuitable as a full-time guardian. But I do volunteer. And one of my goals, hopefully within the next ten years, is to stabilize my own life sufficiently to allow me to take in at least one foster child. Whether I’ll get there, who knows. But I’d like to.

I loved that David saw love as sensible and pragmatic. He connected the dots and drew the line of responsibility for consciousness (and therefore love, I infer) directly to the individual. We each have a responsibility. And, lest anyone be overwhelmed by the idea of being a foster or adoptive parent, he pointed out practical ways in which each of us can do his or her part.

I agree that not everyone can or should foster or adopt a child. People used to say to me, “You have a calling,” and I hated that because I thought it was hogwash. Yes, I have a calling, I’d think… the same calling you have if you’re a Christian, which St. James called “pure religion, and undefiled—to care for and visit the widow and the orphan in their distress.” The only question is, “in what way will you care?” if you are a Christian.

And not all suffering, neglected children are orphans or in need of foster care. Many have to go home to a hellish existence every day. Being adopted or fostered aren’t options for such children, and the world is full of them. Your local school or church no doubt have their unwanted children, living at home with mom or dad. How do we reach out and love these kids?

David shows us how. Even if we are not Christian, he suggests. Even if you are a world citizen. Yes, you. You have a responsibility you can take. You can contribute something.

I’m perhaps too optimistic when I suggest that each one of us does something to help. I think we do. I’d like to think that there’s not one reader passing by who has not or will not do one thing regularly to relieve the suffering of neglected, unwanted, unloved children. But, just in case there is someone so caught up in his or her own life that you’ve done nothing to relieve such suffering, here’s a question: what are you doing?

I love that David has a vision for himself and others. And I just wanted to repeat what bears repeating and say thanks, David, for making it all so practical.

And loving.

I love you.

I just want to say I love you. I love you. I really do.

I love, love, love you.

Today I was behind a silly woman driving a Ford Taurus. She was silly because she held up about 50 people in the parking lot of the school because she simply couldn’t find a way to turn left against oncoming traffic. She dithered and hesitated, went and stopped, went and braked, braked and sent her coffee flying.

Argh, woman! What is wrong with you?!

My eyes narrowed as I noticed the Obama sticker on her bumper. Oh, that explains it.

Oh, my. Look at my prejudice showing.

Now you just sit there, missy, and look at yourself. Look carefully. Look at how little it takes for someone to receive not-love from you. Dithering and a bumper sticker. And what do you care about her bumper sticker? It’s not as if you’re excited about either candidate. And you have a secret crush on Obama anyway. His dancing on the Ellen Degeneris show… remember that? That very moment you went “aaaaah,” and you fell in love.

So don’t hate. You know he’d be the hottest, most eloquent, most smooth-moving president you’ve had in your lifetime, since Jack Kennedy was assassinated and your mom sat in front of the television and cried.

Breathe, and be Love. Let it go. You don’t need to be anywhere but right here, behind this dithering lady. You don’t know why she dithers. Maybe she’s survived a serious accident. Maybe she is recovering from a stroke. Maybe she is in grief and her brain is in the fog of grief. You don’t know. You don’t know anything about her.

Well, I do know. I do know something.

I know that she is precious. She is precious and she cares enough about the country to find and get and use a bumper sticker. She wants something different. She wants some hope. She has a child or children who go to this school, and that’s not a fancy car. She and her husband probably have to sacrifice to put their kids in this school. And now she’s spilled her coffee. What a bad start to her day. And the pressure of the 50 people behind her, that’s got to be painful. I know that much.

I know that she is loved.

[Pats self on back: good job!]

Yes, but do you love her? You: you personally. Look in your heart, and tell me what you find.

Sigh. I find… a dithering woman with spilled coffee and an Obama sticker on her car.

Look more deeply. You have time. After all, she’s still dithering.

Yes, damn her.

Ah, I see.

Shut up.

[Knowing smile.]

Shut the fuck up!

[Shakes head.]

Oh, nice. I see. I see… Here I am, a Christian sitting in the parking lot of a Christian school and there it is: I’m talking to myself and told myself to shut the fuck up. Nice. I see.

Tell me what you see.

I see my lack of charity. I see that I think I am not her. I think that I am nothing like her, so my differentness really means “betterness,” and superiority. I probably think I am more decisive and confident, and would not dither, and yet I can be the world’s biggest hand-wringer and ditherer.

Remember last night?

Yes. Yes, I do. I had to go upstairs four times for things I forgot to bring downstairs before going to bed. My book. My iPod. My reading glasses. My iPhone. Yes, four trips in the cold, dark house. I remember.

You’re a ditherer, too.

Yes.

What else do you see?

I suspect that I think I’m smarter than that woman.

Why’s that?

Because she has an Obama sticker on her car and I don’t put political stickers on anything. And I won’t wear a political anything.

And your judgment about that is … ?

That I’m more sophisticated. I’m above that.

You’re so much better?

Yes.

And yet, every time you vote you wear the “I Voted” sticker like a little kid wears the happy face sticker the teacher gave her.

[Smiles wryly.] I know. I am like her, huh?

Yes. Yes, you are.

Well, she’s driving me crazy with this dithering. Go, dammit!

That’s the problem. There it is, right there.

Oh, just shut up already. I need to go home!

You’re like her, but she drives you crazy. And so…?

Sigh. Too much judgment, not enough love. I didn’t breathe. I didn’t love. I failed again.

Yes, you’ll do that, being human. So… do you love her yet?

[Long pause.]

Yes. Yes I do.

And yourself?

Yes. [Sigh]. Yes, I can extend love both ways, inward and outward.

And?

And…  “Thank you, God. Thank you for this day. Thank you for my neighbor ahead and all my neighbors behind me. Thank you, God, for Barack Obama and Michelle Obama and their children and for everyone who has put their faith in him. Thank you, God, for all our politicians and for John McCain and for Mitt Romney and for everyone who lost and who is going to lose and for all the winners. Thank you, God, for people. Thank you so much. May your blessing be on our world, and I know it is, and thank You so much for it.”

But… what about Barney Frank?

Oh, God. Here we go again.