I BELIEVE IN the spiritual qualities of immersion and devotion. They’ve guided and saved my life more than once. From the time I was little, I would stare at bits of life happening and get lost in life unfolding. I remember watching a fly against our bathroom window for the longest time trying to get out into the light. And watching the hawk nesting in the large oak behind our house until it seemed to stare back at me. Or sitting with my father in silence as we watched the winter waves froth and curl against the docks in Lindenhurst, New York. My father had the biggest smile when beckoned by the sea. These were early tastes of immersion and devotion. Since then, I’ve realized that it takes effort to stay immersed until wonder reveals itself, and devotion to stay immersed until wonder becomes a way of life.
The word “immerse” comes from the Latin, meaning “to dip in.” The word “devote” comes from the Latin, meaning “to uphold a vow.” So while immersion invokes the giving of ourselves completely to an endeavor until it reveals its meaning, devotion asks that we uphold our commitment to stay immersed in that which has meaning.
Immersion and devotion are at the heart of my life as a teacher. I began teaching in a rural high school in upstate New York. After four years, I went to graduate school, where, on a fellowship, I taught classes. After receiving my doctorate, I taught at the State University of New York at Albany for eighteen years. In all those years of teaching I wouldn’t have given grades if I didn’t have to. At the beginning of every semester, I told my students that the realms we would be entering were eternal and dynamic and full of great rewards that would serve them for a lifetime. I told them that journeying there would be more valuable than any grade they could achieve. Of course, no one believed me. I would say that anyone could get an A if they immersed themselves completely. I had no problem giving the entire class A’s. I told them my dream was to have an entire class immersed. I also said that the only way to fail was to withhold their full attention, to withhold their devotion.
In twenty-four years of teaching, I found repeatedly, with few exceptions, that as soon as students gave their full attention, they became immersed. As soon as they became immersed, they put in more effort and time than if they were studiously working for a grade. Time and again, I found that students, once immersed for their own reasons, did much more than I asked of them. All of this is evidence that learning is an act of devotion in itself, which is more rewarding and useful than any particular piece of information learned.
As we give our full attention to anything over a lifetime, the fantasy of reward and the grandiosity of creating something great or lasting evaporate, though we might create something useful and durable beyond our own personhood. When we can see our effort through, beyond the goal that gets us started, immersion and devotion become the practice that lets us experience Eternity. The end of that practice is our own transformation: we become one with what we work toward.
I imagine the naturalist John James Audubon’s eyes began to widen and open like a bird after all those years of sketching feathers. I imagine the impressionist Claude Monet began to paint the floaters in his eyes after all those years of following light. I imagine the marine biologist Rachel Carson began to lose herself in the rain after staring at the sea until it told the story of its beginning. I imagine the New York City photographer Garry Winogrand began taking pictures with his heart, which may be why he left sixty-six hundred rolls of undeveloped film when he died. I imagine Michelangelo began to feel the statue in his heart come alive after a lifetime of releasing the veins he saw in marble. I imagine Carl Jung began to speak unknowingly from the well of all souls after rowing his way into the sea of the Unconscious. And I imagine Albert Einstein felt armless and weightless after peeling back his life to the weightless vantage point of relativity.
If we let ourselves experience immersion, whatever we love over time becomes a garden. And if devoted to that garden, what we turn over year after year becomes our teacher. The mystery of deep living is that we become life itself.
Learning is an act of devotion in itself, which is more rewarding and useful than any particular piece of information learned.