Staying connected

What is our purpose for existence? Why are we here, alive, functioning (sometimes), moving along the path from infancy to old age (most of us), reproducing ourselves (some of us) -- and how does our purpose, as each of us understands it, affect what we choose to do in our lives?

I’ve been thinking about prayer and meditation, and that too little of it was a major factor in the crashing I wrote about last week. Yes, I was very busy for a couple of weeks, and yes, everything in my life just seemed to come together at the same time, and certainly most of my available hours were filled up and overflowing with to-do lists and post-it notes and necessary e-mails, etc., etc., etc. But I’m convinced I would have handled it all much better and more serenely – and more energetically – if I hadn’t stinted on my usual prayer time.

Especially since I don’t spend hours and hours praying every day or every week. More like 30 minutes, max, of spiritually focused quiet time spread throughout the day. As focused as I can manage, anyway.

I wasn’t raised in a religious tradition that included an emphasis on personal prayer, and a few months before I heard about the Bahá'í Faith I came to the conclusion that prayer was silly. After all, God – if there was a God – knew what I wanted so why should He need me to ask him for anything?

Clearly I had a very simplistic idea of the nature of prayer. And it’s taken me many years to get closer to understanding prayer as Bahá’u’lláh defines it: a way to clean the dust and dross of daily life from the soul, like polishing a dusty mirror so it can better reflect sunlight. My understanding is still pretty rudimentary, but at least now I can sometimes tell the difference in my life and my serenity, or lack thereof, according to whether I do or don’t remember to polish the mirror of my own soul.

It’s so easy to do, and also so easy to forget, because I’m definitely inclined more toward doing than being. I put a lot of time and energy into eating right, exercising, working on my various projects, serving the Bahá'í community, helping with my grandsons (my daughter calls it “Grandma Duty”). Shouldn’t all that be enough? Not according to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá.

"The body without spirit is not capable of real accomplishment. Although it may be in the utmost condition of beauty and excellence, it is, nevertheless, in need of the spirit. The chimney of the lamp, no matter how polished and perfect it be, is in need of the light. Without the light, the lamp or candle is not illuminating. Without the spirit, the body is not productive."

So along with everything else, or more accurately, before everything else, I have to make room in my life for a little soul polishing. Have a bit of conversation with God. Get some spiritual nourishment. Slow down. Look inward. Be.

Which is why my cancer adventure was such a wonderful gift. It forced me stop, not just for a few minutes but for six months, all the while not knowing whether this was a hiatus from my regular life or preparation for the end of it. So like many others, I found a great blessing in an experience usually perceived as negative, sad, often unfair -- the blessing of realignment of priorities, of acceptance, of stronger faith, of a better understanding of my purpose.

Now the challenge is to keep and increase the measure of serenity achieved during that time, even in the midst of all my current “doings.” Sometimes, as a way to focus my meditation, I picture a butterfly dancing through space, free, happy, the way I imagine my soul will dance when it is liberated from connection with this body. Because the butterfly, changed so radically from its original state when it emerges from its cocoon, seems a perfect symbol of our own human transformation, and helps me remember that life extends far beyond the initial training-wheel phase of physical existence. That there will be so much more to learn, to do, to be.

One day during surgery recovery, before I knew whether my first post-surgical scan would reveal any new cancer sites, I wrote something that I recently re-discovered and am going to be careful never to lose again. It helps me remember that one day, for at least a few minutes, I understood my purpose.

I am tied to this world, not with thick rope that binds me to it, that would tear off chunks of me as I leave it, but rather with gossamer threads, light and soft as cobweb string, that holds me while I am here and lets me float away in complete freedom when it’s time to go.

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