Winter

Trees without their leaves is an archetypal image of winter.  They give us some insight into that dark season – the time when creation is at its height; most strong.  Not the usual way of seeing things, I know.  But it is winter that produces lasting results; the growth each of the other seasons contributes largely falls away again and is lost.

I used to think that for the trees, losing their leaves must be the hardest thing.  During autumn the tree appears locked in a struggle that it loses little by little as the sap lessens, eventually failing to sustain the leaves.  Too weak to cling on, the leaves are lost to the bitter wind.  Winter begins and the tree seems to sleep until spring awakens it again.

That view is what we see when looking at a tree from the outside, as it were; as beings that are not-a-tree.  From the 'inside', things look rather different …

Spring

Sap rises: the natural consequence of being fibres connecting earth below and sky above.  The warming earth stirs the root system into activity just as the sun fosters sprouting where it can amongst the branches.  The leaves that form need the rising sap; cleaning and re-oxygenating it in return.

Summer

Summer is like a down-hill run.  Plenty of rain, plenty of nutrients in the soil, plenty of daylight: how can there not be growth?  This may look like a time when the tree is growing – its most fecund period.  However as in spring, the tree in summer is doing nothing special: it is simply responding naturally to the abundance surrounding it.

Autumn

Surely autumn must be the most creative time, for this is when the tree bears fruit?  Seeds of new trees are formed and released to grow into new trees.  But the seeds are not lasting results either.  Spring buds open into leaves and flowers.  Summer growth blooms but inevitably fades again.  The nuts that are formed are static offerings, made as a consequence of growth at its peak, with nowhere else to go.  They fall.  Some die, some sprout new shoots.  But their fate is quite independent of the tree that completed its part when the nut fell.

Winter

The fallen leaves are no loss.  As the strength of the sun fades and the ground cools, the sap rises less strongly and can no longer sustain the leaves, now as large as they will be.  Processing nutrition is no longer necessary once the nuts have formed, so the oxygen once provided by the leaves is wanted no longer.  It is a relief when their demand for sustenance diminishes.  And a release when the wind takes them; for the tree suffers less from the gales and dying foliage will grow mould and decay well away from branches that bore them.

However, not all of the new growth has been blown away. There are new shoots amidst the branches and buds on the older wood, too.  They are not ready yet.  Winter has yet to make them what they will become.

The role of winter is to turn the fruits of the rest of the year into a real tree: to 'true' or test what is, nearly to destruction, until it is as it should be, without weakness.  Winter dessicates the new stems: forming an exterior crusty enough to protect future sap.  It toughens these new branches so that not only will they be able to stand up to the gales but they will have the internal structure needed to bear spring's new growth.

Spring and summer provide the raw material and autumn strips away what is no longer needed.  But it is winter that forms the tree itself.  It makes roots and branches that will endure, strong enough to bear roots and branches of their own: the structure that we call 'a tree'.

Perfectly Unreasonable

Moment after moment things happen around us, to us.   To each we only have three possible responses¹:

• Occasionally we may be able to change something, but the number of moments when that is appropriate, or even possible, is really very small compared to the rest.
• An extremely common response is to reject what IS. There are many ways to do this. We feel resentful, not liking the situation. We grumble or complain. We dwell on what's wrong (having our minds on what isn't). We imagine how it could be otherwise (spending that moment in some imagined place that cannot exist now).  We know better.  We daydream or simply be bored.
• By far the best choice is to accept this moment for the reality it is. By continually doing this, we continually embrace life and live it to the full. By contrast, indulging in one of the myriad ways to reject what IS, is failing to live at all.

A Reasonable Man

Consider someone who has gone through life learning its lessons.  He now considers himself something of an expert at this life game.  He will have accumulated many experiences of things that didn't work and knows what to avoid.  He has tried to understand the principles by which the world works, and will probably have developed a strong moral code as a result.

This man has all but dug his own grave.  It is a most unenlightened way to live.  The sad thing is how many people choose it.

Most of the things that happen to him he has either seen before or has a rule that "applies here".  He has no need for the present moment reality: he already knows what to do before it even happens!  He has successfully insulated himself from the only thing that can help him: the world outside himself.

His strong moral code means most people fall short one way or another.  Those who pass muster are flattered to be included in his circle, though secretly careful what they say for fear of being ostracised too.  United in what they know to be right, they agree severe punishment is the way to teach all who fall short a lesson.  Secretly, he fears dying alone, but never wonders about it: all right-thinking people will obviously feel the same.

But with each "learning experience" of his own, his world has shrunk.  There are now more things he won't try than things he will.  Fear of what might happen haunts him.  Cynical and pessimistic, he believes "they" are to blame: how could it ever be reasonable people like himself?  He grumbles things aren't as good as they were in "his day", as if his days are already over.

As Good As It Can Be

The optimist looks up and laughs, saying to the pessimist, "We surely live in the best of all possible worlds".  The pessimist shakes his head and agrees, "I fear you are probably right".

All of us have a certain range of things we can accept; when things happen outside that range, we cannot cope and reject them in one way or another.  Peaceful co-existence can best be maintained by ensuring no-one is pushed into their "rejection zone"².

When anything happens, we can be sure it is the best thing for everyone.

Of course it is possible to imagine an alternative universe where things seem better.  We easily forget how ridiculous it is to wish for the natural world to be different: it is what it is.  We might wish people were different, though.

But our imaginings cannot possibly take everything into account.  By their nature they are from our (limited) point of view; how can we incorporate the hopes and fears of others when we cannot even know them?

Such alternatives will almost certainly require someone to have acted differently. But they were already doing the best they could (see Meekness).  To expect more would force at least someone into their rejection zone.  No violation is without repercussions, so how could the overall outcome be an improvement?

Whether we agree with the optimist or the pessimist the truth is the same: this moment is the best moment that can be (for now).  When we reject what IS we do our bit to make things worse!  How can any good come to you, if you've cut yourself off from what is real?  We can only change things for the better by first accepting the conditions we wish to change.

There is a certain irony here.  Whichever way you look at it, rejecting what IS is futile.  Yet nearly everyone needs to do that at one time or another, so the only sane response is to accept it.

Moment by moment, the right thing is always to accept what IS  if we can, even the bad choices³ we and others make.  Which is simply compassion at work, this moment and the next and the next, forever.  But as everybody knows, limitless compassion (compassion without an end) is perfectly unreasonable.  Isn't it?

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¹  We think we have more choice because we believe in that pernicious illusion, time. That issue deserves a blog in itself. For now it is enough to recognise that only what we do this moment can ever be real.  So there is much less to decide than we imagine.

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²  At first that might appear too soft.  Surely we all need to be pushed out of our "comfort zone" (for that is what it is) from time to time?  Yes, I agree.  But I believe the human spirit is, by nature, adventurous enough.  Our appetite for life will make us explore new territory when we are ready to do so.

Forcing people is not the way.  Jesus' Kingdom and Communism both believe in the equitable distribution of the world's resources.  The only difference is where the Communist way says, "I want to redistribute your wealth, Jesus's way is to say, "I want to redistribute my wealth.

The voluntary status of the act means the difference between heaven and hell.  See Meekness for why good actions can only begin at home.

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³  Bad choices and rejecting what IS are synonymous.

Duckweed

Duckweed is a menace.

Just part of a leaf is enough.  Before long it takes over the whole pond.  Day after day, every trace of duckweed must be picked out.  A clear pond will stay clear, but vigilance is still advisable.

Notice that its all or nothing with duckweed.

Because it spreads exponentially it is rare to find a pond only partially infected.  If there is no duckweed the water will remain clear.  But any duckweed means the pond is rapidly covered and will remain so.

Human mentality is like duckweed; our true nature like the water beneath.  This true nature goes by many names: spirit, Holy Spirit within, primordial mind, Big mind; each different flavours of the same true Being.  It is the essence we are born with and do not lose when we die.

Human mentality has fewer names as everyone has it; it is the "I" that develops as we grow.  It is the psyche, the soul: our thoughts, feelings, opinions, values.  It includes everything social like our status and good name.  Human mentality is everything we share from our culture, including language.

Why "duckweed"? Simply by being there each plant spawns others around it.  In the same way thoughts spawn others simply by being in our minds.  It is possible to be mindful (mindless but with a full awareness of being) but it usually doesn't last long.

As soon as one thought appears others quickly follow until it seems we live in a world of ideas and mistake them for reality.  For example, how many people do you know think money is real?  And how many are immune to it, knowing it is simply a shared idea that enables fair exchange?

Where ponds are people, most of the ponds in the world are covered with duckweed.  Some even go so far as denying the existence of the water that sustains it, claiming duckweed is all their is.  This is not surprising as we are all infected.  Our parents live in the duckweed world, so that is the world we ourselves learn, too.

Distinguishing between the duckweed and the water is simple: if you can express it adequately in any cultural medium (art, dance, music) but most commonly in words, it is "duckweed".  If it defies description it is either fantastic rubbish or "water", the true ground of being.

The Narrow Way

The many live to maximise what they "have"; doing as little as they can get away with to still appear good. A few wish to live fully, as deeply as they can, regardless of how it appears.  These are the ones that sense the water.

It would be nice if we could say 'spiritual' groups like churches (or even new age chat rooms) recognise the value of true being.  Unfortunately, because their "message" is given in words, it is mostly heard in words too.  Culture begets culture: it cannot be anything other than duckweed.  As in the population as a whole there are "the few", but they are the exceptions whose learning is not from the words.

This is an unpopular message, for it implies that many people will not survive death no matter how "good" they are.  Being good is simply a matter of conforming to moral expectations.  By definition these are socially defined, transmitted using language, even if they invoke the name of God or some universal "standard".

To survive death we must have some impact on the "water", not simply float on top of it.  At this point the analogy fails, but perhaps I can use an illustration from Jesus' teaching.  He said (Matthew 6) that those who prayed in public received their reward in full but those who prayed with no earthly recognition or response are heard.

It is as if the "duckweed" world is internally consistent, balanced.  Action and reaction match.  Human mentality expects justice in these terms.  Jesus told another story (Matthew 20) about a man hiring labourers for his vineyard.  Those who had laboured all day under the hot sun were paid the same amount as those who turned up for the last hour. Reading this, we feel their aggravation.



A Rend in the Universe

Yet the point is, sometimes things don't balance and they are not supposed to.  There is more to life than the human mentality duckweed.  Jesus told us (Matthew 5) even the heathen love their friends; we are to love our enemies (despite knowing they won't love us in return).

This is as if a rend is torn in the social universe, allowing God's grace (or whatever) to pour in.  Such a tear creates enormous pressure to close it again. For example, loving your enemy usually means loving the enemy of your friend, too.  But your friend, who simply sees you "giving support to the other side", will not take kindly to such treacherous betrayal.

However, in the meantime, something else has happened.  While your enemy was loved from a completely unexpected source, this rend in the universe moved the water beneath your duckweed.  Once again the analogy fails.  Think of well-worn slippers, the imprint of your bottom in an armchair or how two people in a good relationship 'fit' each other.

When these effects occur within the human world, the circle is closed; balance is restored with no residual effects.  But when they break through beyond the cultural sphere, they still leave an impression, but beyond the cultural sphere.  As that action is repeated, so the impression becomes more lasting.

So loving our enemies creates only trouble here (morality abhors injustice). However our action has also made an impression in the spiritual world, beyond.

Eternal Life

Yes, loving an enemy has done something to form our character, making such actions easier in future.  But that is simply duckweed; impact there is only upon the psyche or soul (which, remember, is not immortal, contrary to common belief).  But the water in our pond has been rippled, too.

We are born with undeveloped spirits. Most people live their lives entirely within the balance of social norms.  When they die, their spirit (the water underneath the duckweed) is still undeveloped.  Their lives have made no ripples there, no impact upon that which outlasts death.  So everything they are dies when their bodies are unable to continue ensuring they are able to continue.

But to the extent we have broken through this world and made an impression in the lasting "stuff", that part of ourselves has become eternal.  The primordial essence we were born with has been changed.  It is this change that will always be.  As an action of a unique being, no matter how poorly formed, that unique being is now a part of something that will continue beyond their body's life.

The idea of a wax seal makes sense to me.  Somehow, when we make a mark in the world of Spirit, our unique "seal" is imprinted in the "stuff" of God.  God is life, our life, the water that feeds our duckweed.  Of course our "seal" will look different, and some of us will have more "complete" imprints than others, but this imprint is even more alive than our duckweed was, being part of God Himself:  the eternal, living "water".

Heaven is calm and clear,

earth is stable and peaceful.

Beings who lose these qualities die,

while those who emulate them live.

Calm spaciousness is the house of spiritual light;

open selflessness is the abode of the Way.

Therefore there are those who seek it outwardly

and lose it inwardly,

and there are those who safeguard it inwardly

and gain it outwardly.

From the Taoist writings of Huai-nan-tzu
(the sages of Huai nan, c.300 B.C.E.)