Our Sacred Lives: Ponderings on Presence

When I asked Harold what I should preach on today, he told me my sermon should help all of you get to know me, that my sermon should be personal, although not too personal. I can stand here before you today and share facts about my life and myself…that I am a forty-four year old white privileged American woman, a mother, a wife, a seminarian, a former yoga teacher, and your ministerial intern…that I come from Italian and Greek heritage, was brought up as a Christian, and have been a Unitarian Universalist for eighteen years. I can share with you some of my beliefs…that I believe in a divine energy I call God and in the goodness of the human spirit. I can talk about why I believe ours souls are immortal or that we are here on this earth to find our way home. I can go on to describe my personality, my likes, dislikes, and what inspires me. But do these labels, beliefs, and preferences actually describe who I am? I think not.

I do not really know who I am. Yet there does exist one state of being that brings me closer to my existence than anything you or I think about me. And that is being present, in the now, in this moment, with me, with you, and with the holy.

The practice of being here now has become my greatest teacher, my clearest mirror, my doorway into the mystery of my being, and by far the most challenging practice I have ever encountered. I have chanted with Buddhists, prayed with Christians, meditated with yogis, danced with Goddesses, observed Shabbat, and journeyed with Shamans. But these spiritual practices are empty and meaningless if I am not living in the ever-changing reality of the present. Chogyam Trungpa, a Buddhist teacher and founder of Naropa Institute tells us: "We need to find a link between our traditions and our present experience of life. Nowness, or the magic of the present moment, is what joins the wisdom of the past with the present."

If I am not connected to the now in a spiritual practice even if it is an ancient one, than the practice remains powerless in its ability to heal and transform my being.

But the question remains: How can I truly be present?

Eckhart Tolle conveys in today's reading that sometimes life-threatening situations command us to be present. I was fortunate to have one of these experiences in my early twenties. After two straight weeks of continuous rain a group of us, counselors at a girl's scout camp in the White Mountains, went swimming in the Kangamangus River on our first sunny day off. The river was high and wild. A few of us daredevils began body surfing on the rock formations. After a few successful plunges I became a bit cocky and my third plunge took me into a fierce undertow. I lost control of my body and my mind. I could not breath. The river thrashed my body about as my life flashed before my eyes. I had no choice but to give up the fight. I surrendered to the moment. I became present to the now. I became the river, the water, and the movement and flow of energy. As I dropped into a blissful state of oneness, yes blissful state, my head gently popped out of the water and I made my way to safety.

Being present saved my life.

Today, I am not inclined to place myself in dangerous situations. However my seven-year-old daughter Selena continuously challenges me to be present each and every day. She wants to know why I am always on the computer or the phone, reading books and writing papers. The rational answer is that I am busy. Yet, I am aware that the fear of losing my identity, the fear of losing control, the fear of not being good enough, chains me to the clutter and noise of my busyness. The other day she told my husband and I that she needed all of us to take a day …a respite, a Sabbath…from our busy lives to spend time simply being together. She is asking us to be present together, because presence creates safety, love, and connection. And we need these things to survive. Thich Nhat Hanh, the famous Vietnamese Buddhist poet and teacher, tells us: "The most precious gift you can give to the one you love is your true presence." Then he asks: "What must we do to really be there?" To answer this question I must first ask:

What are the obstacles that keep me from being present?

As I shared a minute ago the shadow of fear lurks beneath my incessant need to stay busy. Fear of loss, which I believe is ultimately my fear of death, blocks my ability to be present and is often played out through my ego. My ego with its guilt and regrets of the past and hopes and fears of the future, it drives me to succeed, to do well, to be better, to shine. I am searching for validation, love, and acceptance through the "I ams" I have been or hope to become. My desire to avoid my unconscious feelings of emptiness and unworthiness keeps me moving forward, sometimes so quickly that I miss the moments of joy, beauty, and grace that life has to offer. As Ralph Waldo Emerson, one of the great teachers from our faith, points out in today's responsive reading: it is hard to live in the present, it is easier to live with reverted eye lamenting the past or to stand on tiptoe to foresee the future. And it is the never-ending thoughts in my mind that take me out of the present moment into the past and the future.

It feels as if at times I am running from my past or running after my life. There is a traditional Jewish tale where Rabbi Levi sees a man running in the street and asks him "Why do you run? The man replies, "I am running after my good fortune." Rabbi Levi tells him "Silly man your good fortune is trying to chase you but you are running too fast." Life at times seems to be moving faster as I age and the faster I move through life the less I am available to the moment. Stillness, quietude, deep connection with others, and time spent in the natural world all become momentary glimpses of solace that my being actually craves to sustain. Yet, the culture in which I live draws me into the race against time.

Our modern culture has wrongly learned to equate simplicity with deprivation and silence with absence. It strives to fill our lives and minds with objects, information and distraction. Modern technology with all of its power to create an interconnected web of global communication provides me with excellent tools for living in the past and in the future. The media, my cell phone, and my computer may keep me connected to the world but they surely are obstacles preventing me from being with nature, my loved ones, and my own sacred self.

Last week my twenty-seven year old cousin Nicky committed suicide. When my mother told me of this tragedy on the telephone I began to feel the loss, the shock of his death at the root of my body and before it could travel up to my heart, I cut it off, for the pain was too much to bear, too raw to let into my heart for it touched my own disconnection, my own losses of love not given and received. After hanging up the phone with my mom I proceeded to call friends and relatives to discuss this tragedy. I prayed for Nicky's soul and for our family before sleep but I never cried. The next morning after dropping off my daughter at school I reached for my cell phone to continue to talk about Nicky's past and why he took his own life and what life would be like without him in the future. And lo and behold I had left my cell phone at home. I panicked. So I began to breath and as I took some deep breaths into my body, my heart opened to the pain and the tears finally began to flow.

Pain can be seen as a call from our emotional, physical, and mental selves to be present. Yet, how often do I let the strings of emotion pulling at my heart to pass by when they are inviting me to be open and vulnerable? How often do I ignore the ache in my back that is telling me to slow down, stretch, and be still? How often do my thoughts keep me stuck in guilt and fear? Being present with our bodies, our minds, our hearts is no easy task. It can be quite scary. Sometimes I feel that I am more afraid of love than I am of pain because love requires so much presence. Love calls for our full attention both when we give it and when we receive it. I enjoy being with elderly folks because I feel at times that they are more capable of being present and open to love than people my own age or younger. My grandmother, Anna, had a hard life filled with much tragedy and loss. She was not a very kind or loving person especially in her younger years. But then she developed dementia in the last few years of her life and something shifted. I do not know if it was because she was free of the burden the mind can have upon us with its fears, judgments, and wounds or if she was simply not in her right mind. But something extraordinary began to happen. Every time I visited her she seemed to exhibit an incredible sense of presence, both an inward gaze and an outward awareness. She often appeared to be in a meditative state. She could not recall anyone's name but she sensed if a family member was with her and her mantra to us became "I love you. I am sorry." She seemed to be connected to a deep part of herself and present with something greater than herself. The words "I love you. I am sorry." words she had never uttered before in her ninety-two years helped heal old family wounds and gave all of us a taste of how presence can open the heart and touch the soul.

If I dwell on the past or the future I may miss the beauty and grace of the hawk flying above me on the highway or the comforting sound of the rain falling on the earth or the taste of my first sip of sip of coffee in the morning or the gentle touch of my daughter's hand in mine or the sparkle in my husband's eye when I kiss him as he returns home. Thich Nhat Hanh tells us "According to the Buddha, life is available only in the present moment, in the here and the now."

Can I truly be present with another's pain without trying to help to fix them? Can I really listen to someone speak at a meeting without conjuring up what I will say next? Can I walk in the wood or by the sea without making a to do list in my mind?

I am trying and it is not easy. So how can I really be present or what must I do to really be there? For me it is my breath that draws me to the moment. When I become aware that I am not here I take a few deep breaths and allow myself to be inside where I find a connection to an energy that feels hollow, expansive, unknown, even empty and sometimes I begin to sense the presence of the divine, the holy mystery I choose to call God. This spirit of love and life embraces my being and anyone who is around me. Barriers are broken, hearts break open, and the light inside our beings begins to shine. Healing, love, intuition and joy are all more available. All that is required is a few deep breaths.

Let us take heed of Emerson's quote printed in the order of service today.

What lies behind us
and what lies before us
are tiny matters compared to
what lies within us.

Can we open our selves to this moment, alive here and now, present with all of our love and all of our fear?

Can we open to the light within our beings that is far greater than any label, any belief, or ant preference?

I believe we can.

Let us now in this moment practice presence.

Amen

Christina Sillari