I am not in charge. Of IRS regulations. Of brutality, one human against another. Of how a friend reacts to what I say. Of where the junco nests this year. Of somebody who refuses the help which will keep her safe. Of the tense movie that taunts me to stay but offers no resolution to the drama. Of war, environmental degradation, over-consumption, waste, the political system, grave economic disparity, corporate control, a one-size-fits-all public school education, or the ladies at the bank who eye me warily when I politely decline their offer of yet one more credit card “with all the benefits.”
Nope. I am not in charge of the outcome.
I had a few days this week in which my wheels spun out of
control. The trite stuff of daily life mounted up into a rotting, stinky pile
that resembled the larger, systemic issues over which I feel little sense of
agency. This is what happens when I feel how outside of the mainstream American
life I really do live. This is what occurs when I feel the world’s pain
transformed into my own, the place where anima mundi converges with my small
conception of self as separate.
Sometimes I forget (my interconnected soul) and, instead, think that I can
- alone - do The Big Thing that will
change all the pain, injustices, contradictions of Life into a smooth-running
world of harmony, compassion and peace.
No. Certainly not one act. Not alone. (I think that's called arrogance.)
All I can strive toward is a daily practice of action, of
doing “my part.” And I must do my
part. It is the only thing I can do, and it is the best thing I can do. To
surrender to life and the systems I feel powerless to change and to step into
each moment with the fullness, awareness of my task – that is my part. I must
allow the feelings to come and to accept them. I don’t have to wallow in or change
them. (I think that’s called self-indulgence.)
I take responsibility. And I rest in that.
I can live in the balanced place which is, for me, that
quietude with the feelings – watching them come and go. In still silence
waiting, observing what’s happening within. And doing this until the right
action comes like a glorious dawn.
Inspiration…a deep inhalation, an insight that calls me to
action at the top of the breath, the slow exhale into the action.
Then I focus each act, each attitude, each breath during
the day, on deliberate, specific movement that flows toward that which I’ve
been called to do.
Letting outcome go. Changing the system (whichever one it
is with which I find fault, or on which I want to place the blame), begins with
me. It starts with a relinquishing of control, the desire to manipulate. It is
about hearing the call of the heart’s wisdom and allowing each task in which I
engage to be one of deep, abiding attention so that I am moved, the earth is
moved, closer to a pattern of living that is open-ended.
Goals point toward…
Quiet gives me space to listen…
The moment requires focused action…
There must be continual release, over and over again, of an
outcome I cannot control, predict…
And there I find the relief of remembering that I am not in
charge. We all have a piece that is rightfully ours. How can we each do that
piece that is ours to undertake in any moment and do so fueled by compassion,
directed by insight, relieved of being in charge of the outcome?
I am not the (only) one who can change a system. I am the only one who can do my piece in contribution toward a shift... toward a vital, compassionate practice of living on this
earth in harmony with all beings, with all that is.
