I vow to come back to myself and live in the wonderful present moment, to sow wholesome seeds in my heart's garden, cultivating understanding and love.
*"Beginning Anew Chant." In Thich Nhat Hanh. Chanting from the Heart, Vol I.
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Having moved into a new dwelling, a friend gave me two new plants to join one she had previously given me. The three sit together in my chapel room. They are lovely, green and healthy. I enjoy looking at them. I feel healthy when looking at them. They get what they need from the light through windows, the soil, and water. Plus, they get the positive environment created by the room as a spiritual practice center.
Remove any of the factors contributing to their soundness, and what would happen? How would the plants fare if they got sunshine and nutrients from the soil but no water? What if the room was filled with negative energies—such as outbursts of anger or acts of violence? What if I yelled at the plants?
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Spirituality is an act of ongoing cultivation. Spiritual growth is organic. We cannot ignore what we expose ourselves to and be healthy spiritually. We need positive, growth-enhancing ingredients to flourish, and spiritual paths are intended to provide this.
I lived for over 27 months in a lovely New England farmhouse—but right beside a noisy highway. Also, my room was right beside where many community activities were held, and I was exposed to the noise of people coming and going, loud talk, and laughter almost daily. I almost daily left to find somewhere for quiet, reading, and meditation.
The place and the people were terrific, but the setting was not conducive to the life I needed to flourish spiritually. The ill-fit manifested in agitation. I would alternate between periods of inner calm and unrest. This continued regardless of the ways I tried to fit into the setting. Finally, I realized no matter how I tried, nothing was working... the fit was not there.
I assumed responsibility for caring for myself and being honest about the signs, inner and outer, indicating the setting was like a fish trying to live on the shore. I got weary of trying to make the setting work. It would be futile no matter how much a fish tried to adjust to living on the shore. The fish is not to blame. The shore is not to blame. The fish, if possible, will wisely return to the water.
I did move, much saddened to do so, into a quieter setting. Shortly afterward, I told a friend, "I feel like my old self again."
Another person may have flourished in the same space I was living in. That was not my concern. You and I take responsibility for what enhances or detracts from our spiritual health. We respect we are different. Not all plants are the same. There is no need to feel shame for making changes to better your commitment to a spiritual life, even when others may not understand why you need to, and often they will not. Do you know that most people, even those of religion, are grossly unaware of what it takes to live a deeply spiritual life? You must be the spiritual adult and make choices for yourself - you are your plant, no one else.
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We cannot take our physical environment and its influence on our spiritual well-being lightly; we cannot take lightly what we consume, which is much more than what we eat. Everything we take into ourselves is important, like what plants take in. If you are going to live calm and at peace, what cultivates that inner quiet? Is it okay to drink alcohol to the point of intoxication? To listen to loud, clamorous music? To watch or look at materials that treat sexuality lightly or portray persons as sexual objects? To view programs showing a lot of violence or even a little where the mind is exposed to lurid details? To expose ourselves to negativity from the news? Sometimes, it is not a matter of exposure but how much, like the difference between enjoying a glass of wine or until one has become drunk.
Buddhism teaches the Middle Way, which I see as helpful here. However, we can become too strict—Buddhists call this being too sharp—and perfectionism, or rigidity, is deadly to living a vibrant spiritual life. The Christian Scriptures present a warning against this, too. Sometimes, it is unclear what we need or how much is okay. We learn as we go, and what is needed shifts as we grow spiritually.
A Christian scripture might help us here. Galatians 5.17 reads: "For what the flesh desires is opposed to the Spirit [or spirit], and what the Spirit [or spirit] desires is opposed to the flesh, for these are opposed to each other, to prevent you from doing what you [truely; your true selves] want (NRSVUE)."
Now, to clarify some matters that could be misleading. "Flesh" does not mean the body is sinful. The word makes sense, however, as karmic tendencies manifest through our physicality: body-mind. And "Spirit" can refer to the Holy Spirit or spirit as the essence we are. The key is to notice that we all have this contrary tendency, this inner competition. A spiritual practice is cultivating that natural leaning toward wholesomeness and harmony. If we keep cultivating the "flesh," this will deter us from spiritual health and evolution of consciousness.
What is the result of a good spiritual practice? We enjoy what we most deeply want. Otherwise, we are captive to appetites that lead us away from what we deeply long for, and the satisfaction proves temporary, even if scintillating.
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We can see ourselves as plants. We can explore the concept of cultivation and how it applies to our spiritual self-care. We can become mindful of what enhances our spiritual life and what detracts from it. No one can do this for us. We value our well-being, treasure our path, our spiritual ancestors, and those who walk the Way with us, and do this for ourselves. By such awareness, we practice self-love. By loving ourselves, we can better love others. In fact, in loving yourself, you are loving others.
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*(C) Brian K. Wilcox, 2024. Permission is given to use photographs and writings with credit given to the copyright owner.
*Brian's book is An Ache for Union: Poems on Oneness with God through Love. The book is a collection of poems Brian wrote based on wisdom traditions, predominantly Christian, Buddhist, and Sufi, with extensive notes on the poetry's teachings and imagery.
