From a Poem by John O’Donahue
April 24th, 2007 by Ernie
A dear friend left this for me this past week…
I would love to live
Like a River flows,
Carried by the surprises
Of its own unfolding.
My friend Maria is constantly referring to what is moving through her as the flow of a river. I experience something similar. What’s notable is how we can’t see ahead of time where it’s going but don’t really care, and can delight in whatever we find along the way. Of course, there are those all-too-familiar times when that ain’t happening and it’s just a rougher course. Surprise!
I spent several days on the coast last week and drove home, following the path of rivers. Everyone in the car was quiet; sleeping or reading/watching a video and I was basking in memories of a lovely time in gold beach. I pondered the transition – from vacation to home wondering ‘could I really bring my vacation bliss back home with me’? Or was I really here in the car in the present watching the river (and the road) and that’s what was. I’m curious – where does reflecting/remembering bliss (or sometimes pain) live? Can the sense of vacation come home with me? I am warmed by the opportunity to ask such questions of myself.
It’s curious that rivers can be such symbols for people, and even for me. Having grown up where I was unaware that there were rivers (we had none), they both intrigue and sometimes soothme and I feel cautious of them.
Thanks for being here.
Hi Gerry,
What a gift you are to me. And what a great question. I’d like to respond by referring to the intelligence of the heart.
For me there are times when a blissful experience lingers and colors the passage of my life for a while. It’s wonderful and doesn’t seem to be any problem. At other times, when that has subsided or simply isn’t there, something in me asserts that it wants it back. I’m immediately suspicious – it seems like ‘me’ trying to take over the show again. That then becomes part of the moment. If I’m attentive, I can catch sight of that not-so-blissful movement and how it tries to run my life – now in the name of bliss! So it seems, alas, that I can’t take remembered bliss with me, but I can keep a welcome mat out for it by paying attention lovingly to what’s going on inside me, without preferring one state over another. The warm curiosity has to be more interesting to me than the content of what I think. Sooner or later it dawns on me that that loving watchfulness is where bliss lives, not in the past where thought goes hunting for it.
I guess I’d say that memory moving in a way that leaves my heart open isn’t a concern, but when there’s the slightest stress or anxiety in it, it gets my attention. What’s actually happening is the crimping down of my heart, but the ‘story’ is that “I’m losing something beautiful”. If I respond to the story, I get lost down a rat hole of hurt and loss – my heart closing painfully. If I attend to my closing heart, I can see the whole thing in a flash and then everything can shift. What a blessing. When the future (where I’ll have that bliss again) has the energy, it hurts; when my heart gets the attention, it tells me the truth and opens afresh. So whenever my heart hurts, I listen. It’s so much wiser than I am. I think an open heart is always on vacation…
What a beautiful response. thank you. I remember when you were exploring bringing “living with ease” to light and you were wondering about being able to write about it. I can see that you are able. Your written response has a lot of meaning for me – with my heart open. Mahalo and Aloha
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