As my world started to close in on me, demanding its immediate attention toward responsibilities, affairs of work, and needs in my house, I found an oasis inside of my self and in the thoughts of friends in my group.
Now, this ain’t just any ordinary group. It’s one where members have placed the concerns and desires of others above their own. It is a group of men and women, old and young, rich and poor, who have made altruism their guiding principle. They — myself included when I can pick myself off the mat where I feel I’ve been beaten to time and again — give no advice but simply listen deeply to the concerns of another.
By opening our hearts, we let another pour out what may seem an insurmountable problem that somehow develops a miraculous solution once it is aired in the light of day. Some say it is the light that shines on our suffering that causes most predicaments to shrink in size, to be placed into a larger picture, and thus become more manageable.
But you don’t know that when walloped to the side of your head by something that you did not see coming and want to fight against in the only way you know how: ferociously with no concern who you end up hurting. In most cases, the worst victim of your rage becomes yourself.
That is why silence and a retreat from those worldly battlements are needed for replenishment. It is when I close my eyes to the chaos and uncompromising world that I begin to see hope and a cure for such destructive powers. I focus on naught but my breathing, mindfully nudging out thoughts of the moment until I can rest “in the moment” with no intrusions, save the golden silence broken only by breathing in and breathing out. Then I visualize a friend or two from the group, a friend whose mere touch had lifted my spirits, one whose soft smile eased my heart and guaranteed — a mutual guarantee — that life is better than what our limited five senses can sort out.
By placing my faith above reason, I can see a world where I will always call you “friend” and long to be as one in our group together . . . forever . . . world without end.
Good to see you back blogging, Michael J. xxx
I got a few things I want to say and I can’t think of anyone else I would love to say them to. Here’s looking at you, my London Lady!
I’m also very grateful to be a part of our new way of connecting – in all its various forms.
Michael J. – I love that you wrote that letter of support to the priest. Do you know how things turned out for him?
Don’t rightly know about the priest presented by my friend Nancy, but I understand that others in similar churches have echoed the sentiment, decrying all killings in the world, no matter how deserving they may seem.
It is like someone from a Jewish concentration camp finding forgiveness in their heart for Hitler, and rising above the atrocities that caused such a one as he to believe murdering of innocents could ever be acceptable.
This holds great promise.
Your comment about forgiveness reminds me of a Ted presentation: http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/9_11_healing_the_mothers_who_found_forgiveness_friendship.html
“Generosity and tolerance” is the message these women provided. I agree that “we must fight against violence” by taking that first small step toward peace.
Wow, what a presentation of friendship!
Thanks for the link with Ted.
Beautiful writing. We all come from silence and can meet there anytime.
I bow to you in silence both within and without.
There is a field. I will meet you there…Rumi