I was in the Philippines in the 1980s when a group of Philippine friends took me to a magical place called Mt. Banahaw. One of them
owned a small cabin at the foot of the mountain and we had a bite to eat and got ready for an evening climb. When the sun was setting, we started our trek, using flashlights to illuminate our way. The mountain curved and twisted and finding my footing took great concentration. There were holes in the ground that I had to avoid and I was starting to panic. I imagined falling into a hole but I knew that fear would turn the climb into a dangerous and deeply unpleasant experience. I talked myself through it by becoming aware of each of my steps that were taking me closer to the crest of the mountain.
Along the way, we came upon areas that were guarded by large
stone monuments. Our guide instructed us to stop at each one and offer prayers to the spirits who dwelt there in order to gain entrance and be safe in these sacred spaces. I could feel the energy in the air shifting as I acknowledged the light and allowed it to fill me up. When we reached the top of the mountain, the darkness was extinguished by the stars and our conversation stopped. We breathed and listened and I had never felt more at home. At one
point, I saw a strange object hovering over the mountain. It darted to the left and disappeared. I looked at our guide and he nodded his head. All of the fear and confusion and darkness in my world dissolved into light and sometimes, whe I need to stop fretting, remembering that feeling calms me down and reminds me that I’m home.
Author Marion Zimmer Bradley wrote an enchanting book, an
historical fantasy novel called “The Mists of Avalon.” It took place in the time of King Arthur and Merlin, the sorcerer, where a wall of mist covered the entrance to Avalon, a Utopian paradise. It took dedicated prayer and devotion to lift the mists and enter the Edenic world of truth and love. If it went unattended for a long period of time, the mists would become solid and thevparadise would be lost forever.
This reminds me of the foremost question in my mind: How should I be, while it seems like the world is falling apart? How should I talk
about it? How can I turn away from the darkness and choose a different path? Ivwas a news junkie for years before things went awry. Back then, although politics weren’t exactly pleasant, they weren’t completely hideous like they are now. Today, I feel physically ill when I see particular faces on the news. It’s like a dip down into a nasty hole and I need to steer clear of it. It sometimes feels irresponsible to detach from what is going on but it also feels like removing myself is a mental health choice.
I was recently walking in the sunshine in a grassy area that smelled like newly mowed lawn. I was with three friends, we were in a
semi-meditative state, being quiet and feeling our breath, until one of women started talking about politics. I could feel her terror as her voice rose in decibels. She wasn’t suggesting a way to be with all of this but rather how terrible everything was. How doomed we were. Fear and loathing were at the foundation of what she was saying and I felt the light and the ease seeping out of the top of my head. I wanted to be kind to my friend and at the same time, make it clear that this wasn’t a good thing to be contemplating during a meditative walk.
“I’d really like to change the subject,” I told her gently.
She looked irritated. “So what do you want to talk about?”
she said.
“Nothing really. Maybe we can just be quiet and let the birds
and the squirrels do the talking.”
It takes inner strength and patience to be in the world where we live and find the light. I like to remember that it’s always there. It may
be obstructed by negative thoughts and fear but it isn’t going anywhere. When we peel back the layers of negativity, it’s right there where it always was.
I’ve made a commitment to radiate the good stuff. I want tovease my own suffering and the suffering of others by keeping the lights turned
on. No matter what is going on in the world, I choose the light. I’m stubborn and I refuse to fill my heart with bitterness. That’s what some of our leaders want and I don’t want to let them win. That doesn’t mean I have to like what I see. For me, it means being mindful when I catch myself sending out hate. When thevnegative feelings are overwhelming, I make a compromise. I let myself feel the anger but I stop myself from imagining violence. I let myself feel the disappointment but I stop myself from plotting revenge. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t, but at least I’m building an awareness of what I’m sending out into the world and I do my best to change my focus
I like to visualize a flight of stairs that leads to the top of the world. Some of the stairs are smooth and I feel calm when I step on them.
Some are rough and I stumble over them. Some are worlds apart from each other and require a long stretch of my legs and deep breathing to get from one to the next. And some of them are lined up side by side and require very little energy to keep walking. But rough or smooth, I try to keep my focus in front of me, avoid the holes and continue to climb.
“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that.
“Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”
– – – Martin Luther King
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