SOMEWHERE ALONG THE way, we became obsessed with the new, preoccupied with breaking ground and never repeating ourselves. Yet the ocean reveals its power and mystery by repeating its waves around the world. Nature replenishes the Earth by repeating the cycle of the seasons. And we suffer and fall in love, learn and forget, and go numb and reawaken in the repetition of our human seasons. Ironically, the lessons of life come from inhabiting the authentic cycles of experience.
We all struggle with this tension between our obsession with making things new and the wisdom that comes from re-entering life as many times as necessary in order for it to reveal its secrets.
How many times do we run from those we love because we insist on finding something new, when we’re often being asked to live more deeply where we are? The same can be said for our work in the world. How often do we abandon what has meaning because we think we’re bored, when we’re actually being asked to penetrate the habit of work in order to unearth the very center of our calling.
I think this is what T. S. Eliot refers to when he says in his book of poems Four Quartets:
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
While there are clearly times we have to break free and enter the unknown, there are just as many times when it is imperative to lean more deeply into the heart of where we are and love what’s in the way until the glow of life, uncovered, reanimates our way.
But being human, we hide and come forth, again and again. When we hide, nothing seems possible. When we come forth, everything seems possible. Like a whale that swims below and breaches above, we move from our solitude into the world and back. Still, no matter how often we lose our way, we have what we need. We are what we need. We have only to dive.
Mysteriously, it is our nakedness of being and heart that is the greatest form of sonar, leading us into a depth that always renews. And, I confess, when moving through time, I wonder how much is left. But entering time, there is abundance everywhere. Beautifully, this call and response between life and death is like two hands cupping the sun.
When we hide, nothing seems possible. When we come forth, everything seems possible.