A dear friend who is a priest recounts this modern parable. He travelled to the Cistercian monastery Mount Saint Bernard in rural Leicestershire, England, to meet a 93-year-old, who was 73 years a monk. The two settled in to share a pot of tea.
The younger priest inquired of the nonagenarian: "Father, what is the secret of life?"
Without hesitation the older man replied: "The grace of the present moment. For example, the only thing I have to do right now is to enjoy tea with you, nothing else."
There was nothing surprising about the contemplative's answer; wisdom found in many spiritual traditions. What was life-giving for the friend was to find the grace of the present moment exemplified in someone who spent a lifetime practicing such wisdom.
The two clerics spent the afternoon enjoying tea. But the greater enjoyment was each other's company, unencumbered by the rush of time. Almost 40 years later my friend remembers the afternoon as a singular experience. It is a living memory.
Such experiences are a stark contrast to a common occurrence of a group of people, typically younger, sitting together at a restaurant table, mesmerized by their cell phones and mobile devices, furiously sending messages, texts and email, while often ignoring their fellow-guests and friends.
Musing on the advice offered him by the monk, the now older priest notes how we so often have experiences yet fail to grasp the meaning of such experiences because we are often paralyzed by past grievances and hurts we are unable to heal.
The famed Japanese tea ceremony, which is an ancient tradition, captures the grace of the present moment.
"The Japanese tea ceremony is called Chanoyu, Sado or simply Ocha in Japanese. It is a choreographic ritual of preparing and serving Japanese green tea, called Matcha, together with traditional Japanese sweets to balance with the bitter taste of the tea. Preparing tea in this ceremony means pouring all one's attention into the predefined movements," according to japanese-tea-ceremony.net.
"The whole process is not about drinking tea, but is about aesthetics, preparing a bowl of tea from one's heart. The host of the ceremony always considers the guests with every movement and gesture."
Roommate
During sophomore year in college this columnist was fortunate to have a new roommate, Robert, who came from a large family in rural Pennsylvania. Some years before college Robert was diagnosed with leukemia, but he never gave a second thought as to whether he would attend college.
Much of his freshman and sophomore years were spent in an out of hospital, sometimes for experimental treatment, leaving him exhausted, shed of energy and hair.
Because of his cancer and limited time, Robert lived exuberantly when he was pain-free. He relished food, eating a bowl of ice cream with zeal. He played his guitar with relish, though his singing voice was not as melodious as he imagined, which brought great laughter to his friends.
Robert loved music. His laughter was punctuated by a mordant wit. He was a keen observer of others.
Robert died the summer before junior year. He was 20. Through terrible circumstance and necessity Robert willed himself to dwell in the grace of the present moment, despite his fears.
The sometimes fanciful and prolific English writer Malcolm Muggeridge titled his memoir, "Chronicles of Wasted Time". The title is somewhat ironic given the packed life Muggeridge lived and his numerous accomplishments.
His wasted time included many adventures and dear friendships with the famous and the unknown. He wrote a biography of Mother Theresa.
Still, the title of Muggeridge's autobiography recalls the time we are all prone to waste, dwelling in the past or dreading the future, as the present often escapes our attention and enjoyment.
Insatiable anxiety is an enemy of the present moment as is the endless re-litigation of regrets, mistakes and disappointment. Why does it so often seem to take a lifetime to begin to learn how to enjoy the present?
Ambivalence
Author Cherie Carter-Scott writes: "Ambivalence is like carbon monoxide - undetectable yet deadly." Ambivalence robs us of the present, and of life.
A friend was asked some years ago about the sudden death of his father. His response: "My father died of ambivalence. Like many Bahamians he did not attend to his health."
He alternated between wanting to live and what Max Ehrmann describes in the poem "Desiderata" as the "sham, drudgery and broken dreams" of life.
It is easy to remain ambivalent, often paralyzed by the seeming futility and boredom of much of life, all of which robs us of potential, of health, of happiness.
Ambivalence is often like remaining on a train track as a locomotive barrels toward us, uncertain and incapable of summoning the will to move. Life is full of such ruts and habits of immobility.
Thankfully, Ehrmann offers this counsel for life from "Desiderata".
"Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself ...
"With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy."
The older we grow the more scars we accumulate. The internal and external physical scars we bear are reminders of birthing, accidents of all sorts and recurring health challenges.
We bear also other scars such as betrayal, bitter disappointment, divorce, the loss of loved ones, all manner of addiction and other wounds, some of our own making, others forced on us by the vagaries and seasons of life.
Much of life is spent trying to heal wounds, not allowing these wounds to rob us of the potential for change or joy.
Trapped
Picking at our wounds in self-pity keeps us trapped in the past and often incapable of seizing the grace of the present moment to give new direction and renewed hope to our lives.
Human as we are, it is difficult to find the motivation and will to move beyond the ruts in which we become comfortable, though often unfulfilled or unhappy.
The Latin term "Solvitur ambulando" may be translated as "It is solved by walking". It is a theme often used by monastic orders to help others to realize change and new life by taking the simple step of walking.
It is an admonition to walk in order to begin the process of renewing one's physical, emotional or spiritual health. We all know that walking has numerous physical and psychological benefits, adding years to life.
Yet, we often seem incapable of getting up and remaining on the path, often requiring a crisis to motivate change.
Many suffering with depression and other diseases become healthier through walking. Writers, artists and poets have all spoken of the creative benefits of walking.
Walking is also a metaphor for making change in one's life through initial first and small steps, which may grow into new habits of the heart and mind. The grace of the present moment is always charged with the potential for change and new life. The proverbial first step is within reach.
The great German novelist and poet Goethe offers an antidote to ambivalence and the sloth of old and poor habits: "Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth that ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too.
"All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now."
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In Memoriam: Fellow columnist Larry Smith died suddenly this week. Larry was an exceptional and meticulous writer and researcher, who was passionate about the environment and our national heritage, among the many other subjects he wrote about with intelligence and insight. Condolences to his family and friends.
His weekly column, and his considerable contribution to our understanding of ourselves as Bahamians, will be missed. His body of work will be treasured by current and future generations.
o frontporchguardian@gmail.com.
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