I said those words, years ago, to a shrink who asked me what I wanted most in life. Reading it now, I realize it must have sounded very pompous or just phony, but it was what popped into my head at that moment and it was—is—the truth.
I suspect the phrase is one I read somewhere, a philosophy of life acquired secondhand from a poem or some self-help bible, but Googling it just now only got me a slew of instances of “close to god”—or rather, “close to God,” since most of the discourse on the ‘net concerns that god. Freedom never seems to appear in conjunction with him.
Wherever it comes from, my credo isn’t useful or warmhearted. It doesn’t preclude action or caring, but it doesn’t demand them either. I know I feel closest to fulfilling it when I am ambling along the trail and spot something beautiful and ordinary, like the little foamflowers in the picture above. They have just started opening up here in the past few days. The blooms are tiny and intricate, so perfect they are a little shocking.
The moment of perceiving common beauty is a sacred moment, and creates a sense of liberation I never know any other time. I stop feeling stranded in the psychic hinterlands, resenting the limitations of my flesh-and-bone prison, yearning for a knowledge that is beyond me. Every possibility condenses to the form and matter of a plant, a bird; and all of those possibilities are fulfilled. The experience of immanence contains flawless love of crude existence--a thrilling paradox.
For a virtual stroll through Tennessee wildflowers, go here and click on the "Wild Flowers" tab.
Photo of Tiarella cordifolia from Wikimedia Commons.
13 comments:
Are you sure you're not a Buddhist? Or, maybe I'm a Pagan? No ... I guess it's that your Paganism and my Buddhism are both about the same thing, really. I know I've met Christians for whom that's been the case ... come to think of it, I was one of those Christians, however briefly.
Anyway, I think freedom and closeness to "god" amount to the same thing, in the end. I call it "awakening," some call it "surrendering" ... it's all about transcending the smallness we impose on ourselves and everything we encounter. Cracking it open and allowing it all to penetrate us (heh heh ... I said "penetrate"). I wish I weren't in "work mode" right now, so I could express it better.
Anyway, thanks for another great post.
Maybe we should ask Dar Williams to write another verse for "The Christians and the Pagans"--I dunno why she left the Buddhists out.
We're all definitely meeting in the middle somehow. Just don't ask me to do all that sitting, and I won't ask you to feed the faeries ;-)
Deal. You don't have to sit. Just keep walking in the woods. (And blogging!)
As for feeding fairies ... in Zen, we have a tradition of feeding the hungry ghosts after all formal meals. We don't strictly believe these ghosts are real, though. They represent an aspect of human existence, just like the rest of the Six Realms. The ceremony is really about appeasing the part of ourselves that is incapable of feeling satisfied. Some people see no point in these quaint, silly old customs, but I do love ritual.
And I love Dar Williams, too, so let's let the song stand as it is, eh? "The Christians and the Pagans and the Buddhists and the Muslims and the Jews and the ..." isn't nearly as catchy.
So you "love ritual," huh? Maybe you are a Pagan.
The idea of the hungry ghost has me worried about the karmic consequences of my perfume addiction--endlessly spritzing, never sniffing. Oh, the anosmia...
I like Dar, too. Maybe she could do a song about the hungry ghosts.
Jaime already asked you the question I was going to (are you sure you're not a Buddhist?)
Freedom and intimacy are not opposites.
Not that you said they were - it's just what popped into my mind from reading what you wrote.
Freedom is intimacy. We are not separate entities. You and I are the wildflowers, the ground we walk upon. Our bodies do not constrict us unless we want them to.
How simple; how true. I've no idea what "god" is ... and it no longer matters. Immanence is everywhere ... :-)
I hadn't thought of this in terms of "intimacy," but it's an intriguing notion. The word does suggest the union of physical and spiritual perception.
Hello, Jaliya. Your comment arrived while I was responding to Julie. Yes, god is simple. Sometimes, anyway.
Loving ritual MIGHT make one an excellent Roman Catholic, LOL....
I love what you said.
It resonates with a profound truthfulness and spareness that refreshes my soul.
Nature does for me what it does for you; I should despair if I couldn't have that intimacy with the Divine.
Ha! You're right, Chaya--loving ritual is surely part of what made my mother a Catholic convert.
I hope spring is arriving up your way. It's in full swing ehre.
It's what made me a high church Anglican during my last couple of years as a Christian. And it doesn't hurt that, reputation for spareness aside, Zen is rife ritual and liturgy.
There's an argument to be made that we *all* love ritual, only some of us don't know it, or know it but call it something else-- like "March Madness" or "the electoral college."
You're right, Margaret, but don't tell Dave. We wouldn't want to set his Presbyterian principles against his love of college basketball. He might never get over it.
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