If we could surrender
to Earth's intelligence, we would rise up rooted, like trees. -- Rainer Maria
Rilke
Determination – Tracy
Cochran
One
day recently I woke up with no voice, just a breathy whisper. This is
challenging under ordinary circumstances. But on this particular day it felt
like catastrophe. I was scheduled to teach mindfulness meditation and give a
talk at the Rubin Museum of Art in Manhattan. Still under the covers, I tried
talking. Nothing, just air rushing out no matter how hard I pushed to make my
vocal chords work.
Terrible
images flashed before my eyes; faces looking up at me with dismay and
incomprehension, people stampeding for the exits. Fear has a mind of its own. I
am shy under the best of circumstances. Preparing for public speaking can feel
like suiting up for battle. But in recent years, I have also developed
Spasmodic Dysphonia, a rare voice disorder that can make my voice wax and wane.
On good days, this can give my voice an interesting, husky quality. The last
time I led meditation at the Rubin, someone said I sounded like the sultry
movie star Anne Bancroft.
People
have actually asked how long it took me to develop this gravelly, smoky voice,
finding it soothing for meditation, maybe picturing lots of whisky and
cigarettes. Yet on bad days, just before and after treatment, the voice is
breathy and strangled. It is as if you are in one of those movies where you can
see and hear people but they can’t see or hear you, as if you are a ghost or a
captive whose shouts can’t be heard. In a culture in which words are
everything, to be voiceless is also to be invisible. I also felt strangely
defenseless.
“I
can’t go on,” writes Samuel Beckett. “I’ll go on.” Naturally, I thought of
cancelling. But the Rubin Museum event was long scheduled, and it was about
something more than my sitting up on a stage talking and being entertaining.
The weekly mindfulness meditation sessions at the Rubin offer people to sit and
meditate surrounded by sacred art in the middle of the big city. Who was I to
cancel? Besides, I was supposed to be talking about determination and
perseverance. I decided I had show up. Even if I couldn’t be heard at all, I
would show determination.
When
most of us think of determination, we think first of imposing our will on the
world, insisting on a particular outcome, our vision. Yet real determination
appears when we keep going, surrendering what the ego wants, which is always to
look good, to sound good, to win. Real perseverance is willingness, not will.
Really determined people are willing to give up what the ego wants and to go
on, no matter what is going on around them. Persevering does not mean being rigid
and fixed, but flowing like water, willing to meet the conditions at hand yet
never giving up.
I
boarded the train, headed for a true unknown. Naturally, at times I was gripped
with uncertainty. In those moments, I discovered how fear narrows the focus. When
I shifted my attention away from my thoughts and projections about others to my
own experience in the moment, my tunnel vision broadened and softened. My view
became more generous. By myself on the train, practicing without witnesses, I
experienced how giving space and acceptance to my fear brought courage and
grounded me.
Things
happen all the time in this world that can make you feel as if the ground is
giving way beneath your feet. Things that you think are solid and unchanging
are not. The body that seemed so reliable, the relationship you thought would
last for life, the narrative about your life you took to be reality, everything
is subject to change. What can we trust in such a world? It turns out we can
trust our deeper wish to wake up and see just this. It turns out that at under
the ego there is an earthier essence that wishes to be part of a larger world.
Touching this earth allows us to open and be more aware.
At
the Rubin I was met by kindness. A cup of tea was fetched. A powerful hand microphone
was supplied. After the introduction, as I mounted the steps to the stage and
took my seat, I kept the focus of attention on yourself that you can be
selfless, only by focus on what is happening inside and outside you that you
can be generous…practicing without witnesses, by giving space and acceptance to
your fear, your grasping, your anger, you can be free to help others.
I
encouraged people to use my breathy voice to listen as if the speaker was on
her deathbed and about to impart the secret of life. The secret wasn’t in me
but in the listening. The more closely we listen, the more we hear, especially
the wordless aspiration and knowing in ourselves. All but one person stayed.
Afterwards, more than one person assured me they could hear me very clearly.
Partly, this was the excellent sound system. But it was also because the way
they listened. More than one person told me they were more touched by my
willingness to show up than by anything I might have said about determination
under other circumstances.
In
the great myth of the Buddha’s journey, there came a point when he is
completely overwhelmed. As he sits meditating under the Bodhi tree, the devil
Mara sends temptations to distract him from the wish of his deepest essence.
Mara flashes images of the Buddha as a great leader, as a huge success in
business with mountains of money, surrounded by beautiful women. He shows the
Buddha that can make India great again if he would just give up his quest to
awaken, and get up and do something. The Buddha will not move.
When
temptation doesn’t work, Mara tries fear, conjuring visions of terrible armies
howling for his blood. These armies are external and also internal, legions of
anxieties and fears. But the Buddha does not flinch. Slowly, he reached down and
touched the earth. The classical explanation is that he is asking the Earth
itself to bear witness to his many life times of effort. Not his blinding
brilliance or his unique talent, mind you, but h.is effort, his perseverance,
his willingness to show up no matter what. His willingness to fail and fail
again. “Ever tried. Ever failed,” writes Beckett. “No matter. Try again. Fail
again. Fail better.” The Buddha understood what the Christian author G.K.
Chesterton meant when he wrote, “Everything worth doing is worth doing badly. “
Touching
the Earth symbolizes humility, coming down out of our thoughts, out of the busy
hive of ego, to join the rest of life. The Latin word humus, the rich living
earth, is related to the word humility. When difficulty arises, it creates a
clearing in the deadening trance of habit. We remember that what really matters
the things that we spend so much time thinking about every day. What matters is
much more essential. Being alive, for example. Taking part in life, having a chance
to give and receive in the most elemental ways, taking in the beauty of the
world and giving back where we can.
At
moments when the ground gives way beneath our feet, it’s good to remember the
power of touching the earth, descending from our racing thoughts and fears to
an awareness of the present moment. When words fail, we can sometimes discover
a new voice and a new kind of determination. We can rise up rooted, like trees.
Tracy Cochran is
editorial director of Parabola.
Be The Change: As you
face challenges today, persevere, not in a rigid, fixed, determined-outcome
sort of way, but gently, "flowing
like water, willing to meet the conditions at hand yet never giving up."
Sourced From www.dailygood.org
