Peonies
fragrance in my tracks
blooming with wild abandon
the giving of self
being
Incense
quietly it glows
purifying space and soul
here. set me aglow
Toward Greatness
Winning does not tempt that man.
Rainer Maria Rilke
His growth is: to be the deeply defeated by ever greater things.
This was a quote I included in my book The Weight of My Soul: Uncovering My Significance. I am glad after two years since discovering this quote, I still think about it when I contemplate how I live life. Moreover, I am appreciating his words ever more. Is Man masochistic to seek defeat? No, of course not. Man knows greatness does not come without a single defeat. He is probably the only creature blessed with the faculties to appreciate and know greatness. There is no getting to greatness without traversing the yellow brick road, we cannot achieve greatness through comfort.
A tougher problem offers opportunity for intellectual growth; a heavier weight, physical growth. A breakdown or disruption in life offers opportunity for growth and deepening of our soul. In every discomfort lies an opportunity for growth. It is a testament to the resilience and malleability of human beings.
To be soft and malleable is to allow for growth. We allow ourselves to take in the nutrients we need to grow while retaining the flexibility and possibility of how we grow. We were given soft animal bodies to be impressed upon, to be touched, and to feel warmth and love. When our heart and mind feel secure and safe in our body, they can rest; they can be and do what they were meant to do—to feel and think without the grip of past experiences.
A conversation, then, begins to unfold within: amongst an open loving heart, a calm discerning mind, and a soft steady belly. In this resting state, we uncover our power to be, and act, in this world. From this place, we can falter and fall, and in each fall, choose to intimately know our vulnerability, then rise again. And each time we rise, therein lies our strength shining through what was once vulnerable.
Each proverbial defeat offers us a chance to see distinctly who we took ourselves to be, and learn about who we truly are: fallible beings with infinite potentialities. From this, we get to choose again who we want to be.
Even in our finite time on Earth, we are constantly offered the chance to grow.
Towards greatness.
On Being: Compassion
An angel doesn’t always show up with wings. It glows in your darkest hour, whispering the divine messages meant only for you, once you open your heart to it. I met one and she gifted me a lesson on compassion.
When no longer separate from those around us, we experience a complete moment of compassion.
Mark Nepo
Daryl’s maternal grandmother passed away in September 2017. She lived till a ripe age of 92 before she was put on palliative care to relieve her suffering during the last of her days. It was a pity I did not have many opportunities to interact with her over her last three years. Her outward appearance, like most elders of her age, was an adorable Ah-Ma. Yet in her, I witnessed the embodiment of strength and benevolence.
She loved flowers, and I enjoyed getting her flowers occasionally. To me, it felt like one little thing I could do to bring some light to her day. I was grateful for that chance. Whenever she smiled while admiring the flowers, it brought me as much joy as well, or maybe more, to know that my little effort could bring joy to another.
In Ah-Ma’s last three years, she was admitted into the hospital almost once each year. Each stay, lasting two weeks to a month, was a period of distress for her and her family. Her lungs had weakened and couldn’t work at a sufficient rate to expel the carbon dioxide in her body. Other complications like a weakening heart and kidneys added to the stress. She had difficulty breathing on her own, a mask was required to push oxygen into her almost every day and night. The mask would feel extremely uncomfortable if one doesn’t breathe in-sync with it. As a healthy person looking through it, claustrophobic, it was hard imagining how it was for her. Coupled with her dementia, there were moments when she woke up in delirium, frantically pulling the mask and tube off her. The nurses had to resort to tying her down, which aggravated her emotional state.
One of the nights before Daryl sent me home, I asked if he would like to drop by the hospital again. I wasn’t sure where that came from, but I had a sense the trip would put him at ease. So we went. Back in the ICU, Ah-Ma was having a difficult time sleeping, struggling to get the restraints off her. A painful sight, it was hard to bear.
Instinctively, I searched for the small pillow that Daryl’s aunt brought earlier, placed it diagonally over her chest, and patted her on the left side of her chest lightly. The Heart Sutra chant was playing softly in the background, and I patted her along with the chant’s rhythm. Ah-Ma calmed down gradually, my breathing too, steadied with the rate of my patting. It was as though everything with a rhythm in the room at that moment was beating synchronously. Our breaths, the rate of the air pump, my patting, the Heart Sutra all singing the same tune, matching each other’s beat.
Breaths. In-sync?
A foreign and new sensation.
“I felt pain and suffering, was it mine or Ah-Ma’s?
“My hushes to comfort, was it for myself or Ah-Ma?
“Was I holding her or was she holding me?”
These questions raced through my head that night after Daryl had dropped me home. I replayed that scene in my head, attempting to comprehend what I had experienced in the ICU.
“We were one,” my soul whispered.
Warmth radiated from my heart.
That moment in the ICU, there were just Ah-Ma and me in a bubble, glowing. Our glow enveloped the entire room. That moment, we were simply two souls, connected, breathing as one—com-pati.
There’s no you, nor me.
Just us, no separation, feeling into each other’s pain, suffering together.