The poet Blake says, “We are put on earth for a little while to learn to bear the beams of love.” The maddening conundrum here is that humans often have a hard time standing under these beams. We wriggle out of them. When my son was a baby, he hated to sit still. He had to be bounced, moved, entertained every moment. I was longing for him to be content, to fall asleep on my shoulder. I think is how we are with Love. It’s just too intimate to sit there and take it, so we find all kinds of ways dodge its beams.
Thich Nhat Han says we are all just trying to suffer a little less. I get wildly annoyed with optimization culture that tells us to buy the capsule wardrobe, track our sleep or macros, or buy more supplements. But recently, I went on an ethnobotany hike with a scientist who explained all the indigenous medicinal uses of native plants on the forest trail we were on. And I realized that ever since the first human evolved on this planet, we’ve all just been trying to feel better. Whether we’re using nettles, Cottonwood blossoms, cannabis, or biometric sensors, we want to know, in our bodies, minds, and hearts, that we are okay. And that everything will be okay.
The ancient mystic Julian of Norwich assures us, “All is well, and shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” She says this after living through the Black Death, other brushes with death, and extreme existential angst in the 1300’s. After all that, she still chooses to write something called “Revelations of Divine Love.” When she says things will be well, she doesn’t mean they will be easy. She intimately knows, as Richard Rohr says, that there are two paths to transformation–great love and great suffering. She sees them both up close, and still she says, “All is well.” The great quest of my life, though I didn’t always know it, is trying to determine how she could say this, and if we can, too.
On many days, I might put it this way: “All is okay, and shall by okay, and all manner of things shall be okay.” We can still feel beloved even when things aren’t optimized. We can still give and receive tenderness in the midst of uncertainty, pain, and failure. We might not say things are going well, but we can still be well. That’s a miracle worth investigating.
I’ve been calling myself a “Life-a-holic” for several years now, and telling my kids, clients, and anyone who will listen that life itself is enough. Charlotte Joko, the Buddhist teacher, says, “If there’s one thing we can count on, it’s life being itself.” That’s it! This is both difficult and very freeing news. There’s not something else coming down the pike. This is the curriculum, and can we learn to love it?
Dr. Jandial, neuroscientist and cancer surgeon, says the first step to an engaged life is taking stock: “Do I need survival techniques, or do I need self-improvement?” If you’re in survival mode, it’s maneuvers you need, and sometimes drastic ones. Quit school or quit the job. Get a divorce. Move across the country. Take it one breath at a time. If you’re in a place of stability, the prescription is different. Start meditating or journaling. Learn to cook healthier meals. Take up a new hobby. Start to notice your surroundings more.
This has been a bumpy few months for me, and I’ve been saved by noticing. The guillemot pigeons on the bay. The volunteer tomato starts springing up in my raised bed. The people around town who remember my name, the Great Blue Heron colony off Interstate 5, the giant Big Leaf Maple off the trail. All is okay, and shall by okay, and all manner of things shall by okay. May it be so with you.