Half Shadow, Half Light

Equinox Goddess (Turning), Half Shadow, Half Light, Blue Rock, Green Loves Blue, Minneapolis, Minnesota, Fall Equinox, September 2007, photo © 2007-2008 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.

It is the Fall Equinox. The veils between the worlds are thinner. There is an opening that allows us to consciously engage the Doorways to the Mysteries — to set intentions. Clarity — what do you want to come to pass in your life? Twice each year, no matter where we are on this Earth, the Sun rises and sets exactly over the Equator, tracking exactly due East and due West.

According to Cayelin K Castell at Shamanic Astrology, the Ancients knew what they were doing when they built an Equinox corridor in Chaco Canyon:

The ancient architects and builders of Chaco Canyon (in New Mexico) were inspired to build what is essentially now explained as some sort of equinox corridor in their main building complex. This corridor marks the equinox Sunrise, tracks the Sun’s journey through the sky, and then marks the equinox Sun set. This corridor was designed to capture the So Below experience of this As Above bi-annual event, giving us another potent clue about the importance of this seasonal timing. This understanding may inspire each of us to tune in and discover what significance the equinox timings represent for us individually and collectively.

It only takes a few steps into Chaco Canyon to realize the Ancient Peoples, the Land and the mythology, are as grounded and rooted as they are otherworldly. But are we living in such different times now? Doesn’t every day offer us the opportunity for forgiveness, for mercy, for compassion? For one more chance to embrace our better selves?

There were no formerly heroic times, and there was no formerly pure generation. There is no one here but us chickens, and so it has always been:  a people busy and powerful, knowledgeable, ambivalent, important, fearful, and self-aware; a people who scheme, promote, deceive, and conquer; who pray for their loved ones, and long to flee misery and skip death.

It is a weakening and discoloring idea, that rustic people knew God personally once upon a time — or even knew selflessness or courage or literature — but that it is too late for us. In fact, the absolute is available to everyone in every age. There never was a more holy age than ours, and never a less.  

– Annie Dillard, from For The Time Being, Chapter Three, Random House, 1999

The year has seemed chaotic, serious, negative, uncertain. In this country, we are in the middle of a tense election process, the war in Iraq drags on, and towering financial structures are crumbling around us. But we have to keep going. Every piece of shadow that covers a crack in the sidewalk is an opening — because it also covers the mineral, the gem.

Maybe the Philosopher’s Stone is buried. Maybe it hasn’t seen the light of day in 3 million years. It doesn’t matter. We all have access to everything that came before us. And I agree with Annie – there is no time like Now.

There is no less holiness at this time — as you are reading this — than there was the day the Red Sea parted, or that day in the thirtieth year, in the fourth month, on the fifth day of the month, as Ezekiel was a captive by the river Chebar, when the heavens opened and he saw visions of God.

There is no whit less enlightenment under the tree by your street than there was under the Buddha’s bo tree. There is no whit less might in heaven or on earth than there was the day Jesus said “Maid, arise” to the centurion’s daughter, or the day Peter walked on water, or the night Mohammed flew to heaven on a horse.

In any instant the sacred may wipe you with its finger. In any instant the bush may flare, your feet may rise, or you may see a bunch of souls in a tree. In any instant, you may avail yourself of the power to love your enemies; to accept failure, slander, or the grief of loss; or to endure torture.

Purity’s time is always now.

— Annie Dillard, from For The Time Being, Chapter Three, Random House, 1999

-posted on red Ravine on the Fall Equinox, Monday, September 22nd, 2008

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The Unanswered Question

By Beth Bro Howard

         
          Be Still And Know, altar offering at the retreat with Thich Nhat Hanh,
          August, 2007, Estes Park, Colorado, photo © 2007 by Beth Bro
          Howard. All rights reserved.


On August 25, 2007, while on retreat with Buddhist teacher, Thich Nhat Hanh in Estes Park, Colorado, I was prepared to ask a question during the talk devoted to questions and answers. Reflecting on the question beforehand, part of the answer was revealed, which reminded me of the banner over the flowered altar offering:

                              be still and know

I accepted the invitation to ask Thay (his familiar name, meaning “teacher”) a question and joined the huddle of men, women, and children sitting on the stage.

I knew that there would not be time to ask all of our questions. I held mine in my heart and listened mindfully to others’ questions and Thay’s answers, because I knew that the answer to my question might be there also.

And it was.

My question might have been asked like this:

Dear Thay, my twenty-two year old son Peter is a soldier with the U.S. Army in Iraq. I hope that he will return home in two months. I am aware that many veterans return from Iraq with a lot of suffering. The United States of America was not skillful with relieving the suffering of Vietnam War veterans. How might our spiritual communities and practices help to relieve our veteran’s suffering?

I heard my answer, first, in the response to a question asked by a child about whether monks or nuns had served in the military. Thay answered, “Not many,” but went on to say that there was a monk who had served in the war. The monk had seen a lot of suffering caused by war and wanted to heal it. He wanted to practice peace and to teach the practice to others. Thay said that he is a very good monk.

In another answer to a question regarding the power of the healing services held in Viet Nam, Thay explained that there had never been services held for all the people killed in the Vietnam War. He said that there have not been services in our country to heal from the deaths in Viet Nam and Iraq.

How I heard these responses as answers to my question was in this way:

• As a Christian/Buddhist practitioner, I should offer compassionate and deep listening to our veterans;
• I should include them in our practice, however I can, because, like the monk, they have learned a lot about war and suffering and they may be very good at this practice;
• Veterans may be wonderful teachers of peace.

I also heard that, in our spiritual communities, we should pray for the killed and in the depth of Thay’s stories I learned that we must not only pray for the killed, but also for the killers. They are not separate.

It seems that often veterans return with the dead residing in their hearts and minds. We can pray to end the suffering of both.

The answer that came to me, before Thay’s talk, was from my own Christian tradition. It relates to the Biblical story of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32), paraphrased here:

There was a man who had two sons. The younger son asks for his share of the property and the father divides the estate evenly between his sons. The older son stays on the land, close to his father, and works hard. The younger son gathers all that he has and takes a journey to a far country, where he squanders all his wealth in wild living. Much later, he returns home destitute, hungry and regretful. The father is overjoyed to see his youngest son, filled with compassion and welcomes him warmly, hugging and kissing him. The father orders that his youngest son be dressed in the finest robe and that a feast should be prepared for him. When the older son complains bitterly, the father replies, “But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.”

Might we as spiritual communities welcome war veterans home in our hearts?

Might we welcome an end to their personal experience of war as we would welcome an end to all war?

Might we refrain from judgments that may increase their suffering and might we assist and encourage others to refrain from judgments, also?

Might we be able to stand in compassion and be ready to listen when veterans are ready to speak?

Veterans have learned a lot about war and suffering and if we work together to transform those seeds, there may be a little more peace for us all.


About Beth:  Beth Bro Howard is a writer and yoga teacher in Wyoming. Her son Peter returned from Iraq on Friday, October 19, 2007, after a year-long deployment.


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