Together

Given my deep concern  that our nation is currently in the grasp of a hungry ego that can never be satiated, I have decided to commit some of my energy to actually reading, from cover to cover, Gerald May’s book, Will and Spirit, a Contemplative Psychology. I have had this book for over ten years, and while I do periodically peruse it, I think it is time for a more concentrated study of May’s exploration of the difference between willfulness and willingness.   

May stresses that willingness and willfulness do not apply to specific situations, but rather reflect the “underlying attitude one has toward the wonder of life itself. Willingness notices this wonder and bows in some kind of reverence to it. Willfulness forgets it, ignores it, or at worst, actively tries to destroy it.”   Yes, I do believe we are in perilous times.  However, this is not the first time, and probably will not be the last. Therefore, we call to one another to stay alert and remember that there are those in power whose intentions are not benign. Fortunately, together, we can find a balance between attempting to see as clearly as possible, but not succumbing to fear, ambivalence, or despair.  We turn to those artists, visionaries, and spokespeople for freedom who have come before us:  Bonhoeffer, Dorothy Day, St. Benedict, Dr. Martin Luther King, Gerald May (May died in 2005),  and whomever else who may have left us with the message that holding on to courage, keeping faith, and continuing to love are worthwhile endeavors.

May concludes his book with a chapter entitled “On Being a Pilgrim and a Helper,” and his conclusion has left me pondering for years now the possibility that if indeed God is eternal and unchanging, then perhaps Jesus and I both walk and sit in the same silence.  Such an idea does indeed give me strength for the journey, so I share this rich paragraph with you.   

My firm belief is that we are all together in this. Though political and economic conflicts may separate us and even make us adversaries; though we may not appreciate or understand each other; though our individual and societal attachments may cause us to harm and even kill one another, still we are irrevocably, irreversibly, together. This universal connectedness goes far deeper than idea. It transcends even the concept that we are all children of God. For in the realm of contemplative quiet, beyond all ideas, beyond our rainbowed images of God and self, beyond belief, we share the same silence. We are rooted all together in the ground of consciousness that is God’s gift to us all. We are all brought to life through that One Spirit that is unfathomable loving energy.  In this field-beyond-image, our joining is absolute. There is nothing we can do to change it. When the Islamic mullah prays with true and quiet heart, I believe the souls of the Iowa farmer and the Welsh miner are touched. When the gong sounds in the Japanese monastery and the monks enter the timeless silence of Zazen, their quiet nourishes the hearts of the Brazilian Indian and the Manhattan executive.  When Jews and Christians pray with true willingness, the Hindu scientist and the Russian policeman are enriched. Thus when you struggle with your own mind, seeking that quiet, open beyond-ness that may or may not be given, you do this as much for others as for yourself, and you are helped by the struggles of others in ways beyond all understanding. Even in the activities of daily life, any act of compassion, however small, somehow touches everyone if it is done with true spirit of willingness. Every particle of love, every fleeting moment of willingness, is like another drop of rain on a dry earth. It is well, I think, to keep this in mind.

Will and Spirit, A Contemplative Psychology, Harper and Row, San Francisco, 1982, page 6 and pages 319-320