The Wrong Life
August 25, 2008
There are two ways to wash dishes. The
first is to wash the dishes in order to have
clean dishes and the second is to wash the
dishes in order to wash the dishes.
Thich Nhat Hahn
It's not
about time. It's not about
reliability and predictability. Commitment is
about depth. It's about effort. It's about
passion. It's about wanting to be in a
certain place, and not somewhere else. .
.commitment is best measured not by the time
one is willing to give up but, more
accurately, by the energy one wants to put
in, by how present one is. Eugene
O'Kelly
Sometimes as I drift idly on Walden pond,
I cease to live and begin to be.
Henry David Thoreau
I will be honest. I had no Sabbath Moment
written for this week.
I spent the weekend in bookstores in Victoria, British Columbia. Zach, Judith and I ate well, we read (a lot), we walked, and we played. A healthy portion of family fun and merriment.
I enjoy looking for odd and obscure books. I found a title that gave me pause. What if I wake up and discover I'm living the wrong life? (This is a good way to throw a monkey wrench into a fine vacation. I mean, should I cancel dinner reservations?)
Sensing the author could be right, this led to an uncomfortable scene in the bookstore with me on the floor, being consoled by a minimum-wage-store-clerk, who may or may not be living the right life, which seemed beyond my capacity to discern, although she was very helpful nonetheless, patting me on the head saying, "There, there," and gave me the name of a nearby pub which specialized in soothing middle-aged angst.
What if I'm living the wrong life?
This seems a riddle for someone with way too much time on their hands, and the question gnawed at me over the weekend. On the first morning home on Vashon, I started my day, as I begin my day every day:
Made a pot of coffee.
Journal for a half hour.
Walked the garden as my morning invocation, periodically checking for raccoon damage.
Sat by the stream to see if any of our polliwogs had blossomed into adolescence.
I intended to write about what the "right life" looks life, but was preoccupied for a good deal of time by the way the morning dew weighted the new blossoms on the rose Winchester Cathedral.
The lawn is an Irish green and the Rudbeckias (Black-eyed Susan) lean (or is it bow? In deference? In reverence?) from the heaviness of the evening rain.
I was, truly, mesmerized.
And gratefully, I reentered my life. This life.
It seemed that the nagging question, "What if this is the wrong life?" is not that important after all.
Have I done bone-headed things with my life? To be sure.
Have I miscalculated and misused talent or opportunity? Most likely.
Does it benefit me to wish that I were elsewhere and otherwise? I don't think so.
Preoccupation about living the "right life" is the "Daniel-san syndrome."
In the words of Per Petterson (Out Stealing Horses), "I sailed there to be a different person than the one I was before."
Remember Karate Kid? Daniel was enamored with Miyagi's skill and prowess and power. That's what he wanted. What he needed to change his life. To make it better. Different. Right. In one scene he asks Miyagi about his Karate "belt."
Daniel: Hey, what kind of belt do you have?
Miyagi: Canvas. JC Penney, $3.98; You like?
Daniel: [laughs] No, I meant.
Miyagi: In Okinawa, belt mean no need rope to hold up pants.
Miyagi: [laughs; then, seriously] Daniel-san,
Miyagi: [he taps his head] Karate here.
Miyagi: [he taps his heart] Karate here.
Miyagi: [points to his belt] Karate never here. Understand?
So I was asking the wrong question.
It's not the stuff we add to our life. It's not about acing the test asking, whether we are living the "right or wrong life." It is about the freedom to be awake, in this life, in this moment, the very one I am living today.
Jesus calls out to her, "Woman, you are set free..." Gospel of Luke
I spent the weekend in bookstores in Victoria, British Columbia. Zach, Judith and I ate well, we read (a lot), we walked, and we played. A healthy portion of family fun and merriment.
I enjoy looking for odd and obscure books. I found a title that gave me pause. What if I wake up and discover I'm living the wrong life? (This is a good way to throw a monkey wrench into a fine vacation. I mean, should I cancel dinner reservations?)
Sensing the author could be right, this led to an uncomfortable scene in the bookstore with me on the floor, being consoled by a minimum-wage-store-clerk, who may or may not be living the right life, which seemed beyond my capacity to discern, although she was very helpful nonetheless, patting me on the head saying, "There, there," and gave me the name of a nearby pub which specialized in soothing middle-aged angst.
What if I'm living the wrong life?
This seems a riddle for someone with way too much time on their hands, and the question gnawed at me over the weekend. On the first morning home on Vashon, I started my day, as I begin my day every day:
Made a pot of coffee.
Journal for a half hour.
Walked the garden as my morning invocation, periodically checking for raccoon damage.
Sat by the stream to see if any of our polliwogs had blossomed into adolescence.
I intended to write about what the "right life" looks life, but was preoccupied for a good deal of time by the way the morning dew weighted the new blossoms on the rose Winchester Cathedral.
The lawn is an Irish green and the Rudbeckias (Black-eyed Susan) lean (or is it bow? In deference? In reverence?) from the heaviness of the evening rain.
I was, truly, mesmerized.
And gratefully, I reentered my life. This life.
It seemed that the nagging question, "What if this is the wrong life?" is not that important after all.
Have I done bone-headed things with my life? To be sure.
Have I miscalculated and misused talent or opportunity? Most likely.
Does it benefit me to wish that I were elsewhere and otherwise? I don't think so.
Preoccupation about living the "right life" is the "Daniel-san syndrome."
In the words of Per Petterson (Out Stealing Horses), "I sailed there to be a different person than the one I was before."
Remember Karate Kid? Daniel was enamored with Miyagi's skill and prowess and power. That's what he wanted. What he needed to change his life. To make it better. Different. Right. In one scene he asks Miyagi about his Karate "belt."
Daniel: Hey, what kind of belt do you have?
Miyagi: Canvas. JC Penney, $3.98; You like?
Daniel: [laughs] No, I meant.
Miyagi: In Okinawa, belt mean no need rope to hold up pants.
Miyagi: [laughs; then, seriously] Daniel-san,
Miyagi: [he taps his head] Karate here.
Miyagi: [he taps his heart] Karate here.
Miyagi: [points to his belt] Karate never here. Understand?
So I was asking the wrong question.
It's not the stuff we add to our life. It's not about acing the test asking, whether we are living the "right or wrong life." It is about the freedom to be awake, in this life, in this moment, the very one I am living today.
Jesus calls out to her, "Woman, you are set free..." Gospel of Luke
Poems / Prayers
This is What Was Bequeathed Us
This is what was bequeathed us:
This earth the beloved left
And, leaving,
Left to us.
No other world
But his one:
Willows and the river
And the factory
With its black smokestacks.
No other shore, only this bank
On which the living gather.
No meaning but what we find here.
No purpose but what we make.
That, and the beloved's clear
Instructions:
Turn me into song; sing me awake.
Gregory Orr
Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, but to be fearless facing them.
Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it.
Let me not crave in anxious fear to be saved but hope for patience to win my freedom.
Bodhistava Prayer
Peace,
Terry Hershey
