David Whyte advocates radical simplicity. "Try to get back to the essential steps," he says in interview on New Dimensions.
Laundry blows in Sunday morning breeze and sun. Roger Federer and Andy Roddick hit tennis balls back and forth in All England Finals at Wimbledon.
Sky clouds up again.
Like the little stream
Making its way
Through the mossy crevices,
I, too, quietly
Turn clear and transparent.
- Hakuin (1686-1768)
With Saskia away there's nothing planned for hospitality today. Just laundry. Nothing resembling Kornfield's "After the Ecstasy, the Laundry." My gloss would be -- during the laundry, a bit of solitude.
WHAT TO REMEMBER WHEN WAKING
In that first
hardly noticed
moment
to which you wake,
coming back
to this life
from the other
more secret,
moveable
and frighteningly
honest
world
where everything
began,
there is a small
opening
into the new day
which closes
the moment
you begin
your plans.
What you can plan
is too small
for you to live.
What you can live
wholeheartedly
will make plans
enough
for the vitality
hidden in your sleep.
To be human
is to become visible
while carrying
what is hidden
as a gift to others.
To remember
the other world
in this world
is to live in your
true inheritance.
You are not
a troubled guest
on this earth,
you are not
an accident
amidst other accidents
you were invited
from another and greater
night
than the one
from which
you have just emerged.
Now, looking through
the slanting light
of the morning
window toward
the mountain
presence
of everything
that can be,
what urgency
calls you to your
one love? What shape
waits in the seed
of you to grow
and spread
its branches
against a future sky?
Is it waiting
in the fertile sea?
In the trees
beyond the house?
In the life
you can imagine
for yourself?
In the open
and lovely
white page
on the waiting desk?
(~ Poem by David Whyte, in The House of Belonging)
Becoming visible is difficult enough. Becoming transparent exceeds that task. Then, to just be the ordinary, manifesting itself in the everyday, is real practice.
A sacrifice to God is a contrite spirit
I acknowledge my transgression, says David. If I admit my fault, then you will pardon it. Let us never assume that if we live good lives we will be without sin; our lives should be praised only when we continue to beg for pardon. But men are hopeless creatures, and the less they concentrate on their own sins, the more interested they become in the sins of others. They seek to criticize, not to correct. Unable to excuse themselves, they are ready to accuse others. This was not the way that David showed us how to pray and make amends to God, when he said: I acknowledge my transgression, and my sin is ever before me. He did not concentrate on others’ sins; he turned his thoughts on himself. He did not merely stroke the surface, but he plunged inside and went deep down within himself. He did not spare himself, and therefore was not impudent in asking to be spared.
(From a sermon by Saint Augustine, bishop; in Office of Readings, 14th Sunday of the Year, Ordinary Time)
I'm no longer fond of sin-talk.
There's something else to see. Another way of speaking.
"Love is a fierce form of attention in which you see yourself," says David Whyte to Michael Toms referring to Pema Chodron's path. To see yourself, clearly and with compassion, is to see everyone else clearly and with compassion. Not to see in this way is to perpetuate separation, discord, war, and suffering.
To see we must become visible so as to become transparent, so as to be ordinary manifestation of the Itself of God.
That peace, that loving compassion, is a manifestation devoutly to be wished.
Until such time, it is a day of solitude, drying laundry, and cutting weeds grown wildly huge during the weeks of rain.