There’s a handful of “lighter” clickbait: results of a sports event; maybe a random a tale of heroism; a famous person touting a new film, award, or partner. Perhaps a new factory opened in the region, or that new bridge project is finally underway. And of course ads for all manner of things to purchase, sure to make me happier, or “solve” an issue I didn’t realize I had until told of the solution to my previously unknown problem.
Emotion-tugging trade-offs for all the conveniences I enjoy in modern life in the USA. Very minor complaints, as my world is relatively luxurious compared to the majority of humans. Traveling and stepping outside of my comfort zone just a wee bit the last few years has seared my privilege into my awareness. Indeed, having the room to complain is itself a luxury of my elite status. I don’t always succeed, but try not to waste energy in such directions.
I’ve unconsciously expended plenty of emotional energy over the decades, some joyful, some less so. Some foolish, some necessary. I’ve also done physical work full-time now for over 25 years, a different form of energy. My workday allows room for some contemplation as I labor, but I try to stay mindful of my tasks. Gratefully, I’ve reached a place where I can have some holiday “down time” and am very appreciative of those who directly and indirectly enabled me to be here.
It seems our culture presses us to stay occupied. I’m old enough to recall being deeply moved by (and in full agreement with) John Lennon’s lyrics in “Watching the Wheels” as I involuntarily stumbled into adulthood. Two different forms of social occupation stand out: Pushing us to be “productive” — whether at a profession, in our society, studies, or in our personal life; or more sneakily, enticing us with distractions that keep us occupied emotionally so we don’t have to face broader considerations about life and where and why we apply our energy. Of course we like to feel we are choosing how much we swim in whatever direction.
Yet it feels to me neither of these (“being productive” or “distractions”) encourages or inherently cultivates our sense of “being” — a simple contentment in being alive.
As I sit on my porch typing this a song sparrow is projecting a sweet little flute-like melody with full voice from a nearby tree branch. A pair have nested in the hanging fern on the soffit. The local mockingbird perched atop the utility pole across the street trumpets out a longer arrangement of calls, copied after careful listening to several different feathered neighbors. I’ve been half-aware of both; only when I pause thinking do they arrest my focus. Because I learned their calls long ago, without Googling them up or thinking hard, I instantly identify them. I sip some water, take a few deep breaths and thoughtlessly drink in their songs. It’s as satisfying and nourishing to my being as any tonic to my body.
Speaking of this body, I become aware of the bits of poison ivy rash I acquired a few days prior, wrists and shins now itching — so my attention has shifted from emotions triggered by online blurbs, to thoughts formulating words about that phenomena, to the experience of isolating a few sounds reaching my ears, and on to the intimacy of my skin. Next I feel a few twinges as two winged ants are wriggling, caught on my hairy legs. I pluck them off and note another floats in the light breeze past my face. Then another. Suddenly there are dozens visible, wafting past like seeds on the wind. For an instant I wonder how long they’ve been doing so? More get stuck on my clothes and skin and the rain of flying ants becomes annoying enough to send me inside.
I breathe back into the moment. The world we’re immersed in is so wonderfully rich, yet we remain ignorant of all but a tiny percentage! In my case, usually swimming in thoughts and emotions unconsciously entrapped within my supposed “self.” We’re trained to believe we’re the only “conscious beings,” observing the rest of the world; disconnected witnesses in seats at the show.
Yet the birds singing are certainly aware of their song, as well as the songs around them, and of me, especially if I approach the nest. The flying ants may not all consciously be able to control their floating flight, or avoid getting tangled in my hair, but some seem to maneuver and the ones I pluck out don’t aim at my legs again. Am I really so different, to what degree do I determine where I will place my body? I surely didn’t plan on a rain of flying ants moving me indoors!
Similarly, how much do I really control my emotions or thoughts? Like the annoying prompt of the ants, I may somewhat direct the flow of them once “they” initiate an appearance, but it seems wildly arrogant to pretend I direct the arrival of all my thoughts or emotions, or their departure! They fade in and out on natural currents as circumstantially-driven as the breezes carrying the ants.
Just a few experiences with meditation reveals to one how we (mostly unaware) have perpetually active “monkey-minds,” leaping along from one train of thought to another. Parallel tracks carry loads of emotions, the cargo shifting depending on the recent or most pressing circumstances. In our culture, our somatic or bodily awareness is often the least noticed, unless we’re in distress, or a state of severe pain, or expectations driven by emotions or thoughts have raised flags.
Years ago, I had the mistaken notion that meditation meant one “stopped thinking.” This is virtually impossible (unless we are brain-dead); rather, through meditation we get familiar with noticing our thoughts and feelings and bodily sensations, without becoming entangled in them.
Of course this raises the seminal idea: then who or what is aware of these things? What aspect of this “self” is really permanent? And further, if thoughts and emotions and bodily sensations all come and go (and so, are in fact, temporary) how can we justify our identity, our “I”, as based on thoughts, or any of the experiences we’ve accumulated? The distractions and busy-ness of our world buffer us from the reality of just “being.” In being, we innately sense our inter-relationship within life. The great falsehood is our separateness, the great truth is our connectedness; war is the result of the former.
Instead of insisting “we” humans direct anything, and as arrogantly, that we are the only beings conscious of all other life, for “me” it is transparently obvious we’re within the Consciousness that IS life. In “just being” I begin to “taste” or lightly “touch” on the Consciousness that pervades and manifests as my body, and mind, and everything we can know.
Despite our societal striving and distractions, it seems the best use of my energy is just being aware, through my senses — of the songs of birds, and breezes, and the flights of ants, and of my body and thoughts and feelings (and those of others). All of these interwoven energies manifest and connect, forming a dynamic flow that begins to glow, like the Elixir of Being. Who needs more to satiate a life?