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NECESSARY LOSSES
Rev. Don Beaudreault
First Parish, Brewster, MA
November 2, 2014
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OPENING READING
It is tempting to believe that simply because we make the perfect plan, that
nothing will go wrong. Life is not an absolute; we do not have full control of
our world or even our lives…There will be times when we need to assess
where we are going and why. If we discover, that we are headed in a wrong
direction…we need the courage to admit we are wrong, and then resolve to
do what is right. And at the end of our struggle, we need to forgive ourselves
for our failings, and be gentle with those around us.
Jose Ballester, Unitarian Universalist Minister
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MEDIATION READING
During a vacation weekend some months ago I was standing on a headland
overlooking one of the rugged coves which dot the coastline of northern
California. Several large rock outcroppings were at the mouth of the cove,
and these received the full force of the great Pacific combers which, beating
upon them broke into mountains of spray before surging into the cliff-lined
shore. As I watched the waves breaking over these large rocks in the
distance, I noticed with surprise what appeared to be tiny palm trees on the
rocks, no more than two or three feet high, taking the pounding of the
breakers. Through my binoculars I saw that these were some type of
seaweed, with a slender "trunk" topped off with a head of leaves. As one
examined a specimen in the interval between the waves it seemed clear that
this fragile, erect, top-heavy plant would be utterly crushed and broken by
the next breaker. When the wave crunched down upon it, the trunk bent
almost flat, the leaves were whipped into a straight line by the torrent of the
water, yet the moment the wave had passed, here was the plan again, erect,
tough, resilient. It seemed incredible that it was about to take this incessant
pounding hour after hour, day after night, week after week, perhaps, for all I
know, year after year, and all the time nourishing itself, extending its
domain, reproducing itself; in short, maintaining and enhancing itself in this
process which, in our shorthand, we call growth. Here in this palm-like
seaweed was the tenacity of life, the forward thrust of life, the ability to push
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into an incredibly hostile environment and not only hold its own, but to
adapt, develop, become itself.
Carl Rogers
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SERMON
Carl Rogers believes, as do I, that human beings have the potential to be like
that palm-like seaweed – tenacious, fighting that which seeks to destroy us.
This buffeting by circumstance is part of the natural process of existence –
human or otherwise. It is choosing how to adapt the best we can to the
challenges, that allow us to survive, create, evolve – sometimes, even to a
place of benefit, of gain.
There are those, however, who might know but choose not to adapt to the
rough-hewed places of life, and therefore, give up. They turn away defeated,
overwhelmed, perhaps bitter.
In her best-selling book Necessary Losses, Judith Viorst speaks of the things:
Growing up means gaining the wisdom and skills to get what we want within
the limitations imposed by reality – a reality which consists of diminished
powers, restricted freedoms and, with the people we love, imperfect
connections.
What Viorst is talking about is a deeper consciousness that we all have, but
do not always allow to surface – an acceptance of our powerlessness. As my
ministerial colleague Jose Ballester, says:
Humility and flexibility can help us face the uncertainties of life and ease the
realization of our vulnerability.
And this realization – this "growing up" – can occur at any age, no matter
the circumstance (even unto the point of death).
So, the essential premise of today’s sermon is that life is impermanent; that
nothing lasts; that everything is constantly changing (except change itself);
that to hold fast with the thought that we will not lose what we attempt to
grasp, can only lead us into a kind of deep sorrow, if not madness; that we
must let go of our fears of losing the people and the things we possess – if
we are to attain an inner bliss, a deeper awareness, a more profound
appreciation of life itself.
This thought is echoed by the poet Rainer Maria Rilke who tells us that our
deepest fears are like dragons guarding our deepest treasures.
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These fears are referred to by Sogyal Rinpoche in The Tibetan Book of
Living and Dying, where he says:
The fear that impermanence awakens in us, that nothing is real and nothing
lasts, is, we come to discover, our greatest friend because it drives us to ask:
If everything dies and changes, what is really true? Is there something
behind the appearances, something boundless and infinitely spacious,
something in which the dance of change and impermanence takes place? Is
there something in fact we can depend on that does survive what we call
death?
Of course, in thinking about this, Sogyal Rinpoche believes that these
questions can lead to a great, liberating awareness – and understanding that
yes, there is something beyond what appearance shows us; that is to say, that
there is something beyond the impermanence of life. So, by our letting go of
our fear of losing all we are and have, and by trusting the reality of the
existence of something that
lies behind all the changes and deaths of the world…we come slowly to find
ourselves face to face, in gratitude and joy, with the truth of the changeless,
with the truth of the deathless, unending nature of mind!
His thinking reminds me of a poem by the late UU minister Robert Weston –
one that I sometimes use when I officiate at memorial services. He speaks of
this "something" as the "Great Peace" – as a healing presence (similar to
what Sogyal Rinpoche says. Says Weston:
Always there is something, something beyond all time…
The sorrows, the haunting fears, dissolve into the healing night.
The darkness is no longer darkness, but a comforting presence,
And it comes, a great peace, flooding the heart.
And this viewpoint –theistic or not - stresses the importance of connecting
the human species with the rest of nature – seeing us as a part of nature
rather than apart from nature. In this regard, we can learn from the other
aspects of the natural process – similar to what Carl Rogers tells us about the
tenacious seaweed on the rocks of a California beach.
The book Transitions by William Bridges talks of this as:
a theory of personal development that views transition as the natural
process of disorientation and reorientation that marks the turning points of
the path of growth. Throughout nature, growth involved periodic
accelerations and transformations: things go slowly for a time and nothing
seems to change – until suddenly the eggshell cracks, the branch blossoms,
the tadpole’s tail shrinks away, the leaf falls, the bird molts, the hibernation
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begins. With us it is the same. Although the signs are less clear than in the
world of feather and leaf, the functions of transition times are the same.
They are key times in the natural process of self-renewal.
So, we all suffer loss; we all receive gain – sometimes from what we have
lost. Each in our own way, each in our own time.
Let me tell you a story that connects one human being with those struggling
but surviving plants that Carl Rogers points out to us.
Many years ago, when studying Yahweh, Gaia, and the other divines such as
Emerson, Thoreau, Parker, Channing, Dickinson and Sanger, I would leave
the confines of the UU seminary in Berkeley and travel to the Pacific coast
just north of San Francisco – particularly to one special place on the cliffs
overlooking Stinson Beach.
I would climb out into the very edge of the cliff, hundreds of feet above the
ocean and just sit – in a state of sitting meditation – eyes sometimes open
and looking far out into the beautiful Pacific. The sun shone, the waves
crashed. I made this little pilgrimage for a number of months until one day I
decided that I wouldn’t just sit on the outcropping, I would climb down it, to
the very edge of the sea.
It was easy going down – because I could actually slide part of the way. And
once I was at the bottom of the cliff, where the waves were churning so
closely around me, I felt wonderfully exhilarated; indeed, in a state of awe at
the majesty of nature. There I was with the very source of life – the sea –
just me alone. Or, so I felt.
But this state of deep awareness could only last so long, what with the sun
beginning to lower and the weather beginning to get cold, given the
incoming fog. So I decided to climb back to the top. But I did not expect it to
be such a difficult task. As far as I know, no one yet has devised a way for a
human body without a mechanical device, to slide up a cliff.
I was bemused by this challenge – for a few moments. Indeed, it was a
puzzle that I had to figure out. For one thing, the way I had come down was
not a way I could climb back up. There were no palm-like plants or their
cousins to hold on to – or rocks. So, I looked at other possible paths. But
each time I tried, I kept slipping back.
After repeated attempts of gaining a foothold, I was no longer bemused or
feeling challenged intellectually. And all the while, the fog was creeping in –
and hardly on Carl Sandburg’s "little cat feet" either! More like "big lion
paws"!
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After some more time and other attempts, what was concern began to be
panic. Or call it an adrenalin rush or the animal brain seeking survival.
And then I remembered: I had studied Buddhist meditation, hadn’t I? And
didn’t I know how to center myself and stay calm, despite outwardly
stressful situations? Admittedly I was not the best student in the class! Still, I
did the best with what I had inside me. Yes, if only I could focus; if only I
could remember that awareness and not panic would get me to the top and
freedom; that I was still strong.
Suffice it to say, I did find the path – far easier, I might add, than finding
other ways through this sometimes miasmic reality called "life." I got to the
place I wanted to get to – I survived – by becoming one with the situation –
by working with what was before me, rather than trying to fight it; by using
all aspects of my being in an almost effortless way.
On that day, years ago at the ocean’s edge, I, like those plants, survived
despite the odds; I survived by letting go of control and thereby receiving a
more effective state of awareness and power. I learned that because of
potential or real loss, something else has the chance to occur: a deep and
profound awareness and appreciation of the miracle of life in the first place;
the joy of knowing that each moment is precious and is fleeting and that
because we will lose all that we are or have, we might as well sing praises
for having existed at all - rather than hold forth with.
Therefore, knowing that life is impermanent and that, indeed, someday in
the far distant future the sun itself will flicker and go out, we, nevertheless,
can realize that our necessary losses have the potential for unexpected gain.
In closing, let us contemplate these words from The Diamond Sutra:
Thus shall ye think of all this fleeting world:
A star at dawn, a bubble in a stream;
A flash of lightning in a summer cold.
A flickering lamp, a phantom and a dream.
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CLOSING WORDS
Lead me from death to life, from falsehood to truth. Lead me from despair to
hope, from fear to trust. Lead me from hate to love, from war to peace. Let
peace fill our hearts, our world, our universe.
Project Ploughshares