One of the primary—even primordial—(basic, original) challenges to religion and spirituality is the fact that we are embodied. We feel pain, have urges, experience emotion; we are vulnerable to the elements, we die, we're unpredictable, we take up space, we feel separate, distant, alone—in these vessels—with very little control.
Very early, in Western culture, we responded to this way of being with fear. We believed our separateness was real and assumed the way to navigate this life was to create territories of control. We looked for what power we could exercise and claimed dominion. So even though we were vulnerable, we thought we were in charge. Even though we were separate, we thought we had the power to create belonging.
So we got busy and judged that which we feared or couldn't control as wrong. We worked our assumptions into our collective consciousness and found ways to denigrate the body, the vessel that caused so much confusion, vulnerability, change, unpredictability. We deemed our mind better than our body and the only true defense against it. ("I think therefore I am.") We deemed our bodies as something to control and in many cases, deny, even demonizing those with body knowledge or earth sensibility. Intuition became the enemy of rational thinking. Emotion the enemy of civilized behavior. And the earth and all its creatures on it? Separate things to be used, manipulated and conquered.
All the while we were cultivating an uneasiness, a sense of displacement, an anxiety about our purpose and participation in this enterprise called life.
Systematized religion crafted powerful rationalization to allay these anxieties; to, in fact, instill a sense of guilt for feeling this uneasiness of place. Using fear of death as the bait to comply, we became dependent on the rationalization of serving the illusion of control. In the West it was primarily Orthodox Christianity and the introduction of original sin. Our bodily longings, came Augustine's keen persuasion, were our inherited depravity. Sensual pleasures were deemed reasons for God's disapproval and our intuition for connection in this embodied existence was a distraction from the superior spiritual goal of perfection.
Shame and blame poured onto our sensibilities, (because, of course, we were feeling these urgings and longings and love of life) helping us feel even more isolated, not only from our bodily selves, but from each other and from the embodied wisdom that lived all around us.
"Consider the lilies of the field," Jesus preached.
And there were wise folk throughout the centuries who beseeched us to dismantle this mind game we have going. Mystics who encouraged us to embrace soul.
When we came to believe that our pain and vulnerability, that our need for one another and our feeling response to life were signs of our unworthiness, we disabled our soul's knowing.
Soul, in human being, is the convergence, the harmony of body and spirit, the fullness of embodied consciousness.
"We are not born 'finished'" writes Lorraine Kisly, "there is an inner growth possible as well as an outer development given by nature. We are embodied for a purpose," she argues, " the purpose is to grow a soul."1
"All natural objects make a kindred impression," Unitarian Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, "Let us learn the revelation of all nature and thought, that the Highest dwells within us, that the sources of nature are in our minds … Within us is the soul of the whole; the wise silence; the universal beauty, to which every part and particle is equally related."
In Celtic spirituality, a form of Christianity that emerged in Ireland and surrounding areas in the 5th century—articulating ancient understandings—touch was believed to be one of the deepest forms of sacred encounter. Connection with others, with nature, with the inner self was honored as a way to sense the Divine. As we are molded from clay—from the earth—and infused with mysterious energy and spirit within, the material world is available for sensual understanding of the nature of the cosmos. Seeing, hearing, touching, smelling, voicing self in the presence of life contributes the unique expression of being which comprises of you.
Now, not all touch or connection resonates with the nature of the cosmos. The encounter must be without the need for power or control. It must be an authentic embrace of the shared moment, what some may call "Grace." Tender, brave, honorable encounter energizes our being in the universe. In this way our body is both our home and our vessel for the journey, our individuality is both our gift to and expression of the glory of all things.
This is echoed in the words of 19th century Unitarian Lydia Maria Childs, "Be spontaneous, be truthful, be free, and thus be individuals! is the song (she) Nature sings through warbling birds, and whispering pines, and roaring waves, and screeching winds."2
Eleven years ago, I took out a push lawn mower, went to the over-grown field in our back yard and created a labyrinth through tall grasses and a hint of wild flowers. I hadn't read books on labyrinths or even walked one, but the field beckoned me and I followed my intuition.
I thought that walking the labyrinth would become my spiritual replenishment, which it sometimes is, however but the care and co-creation of this plot of land—my embodied participation of the labyrinth—has taken me to depths of gratitude and trust that I did not know before. Working the soil and witnessing its response, I'm learning of the extraordinary, delicate and powerful phenomenon of creation in ways that have no words. Something gardeners and farmers naturally know. Not being either, it was a new experience for me.
One day I decided to work through a gentle rain. A half hour later I distinctly remember the recognition of the warmth of the sun on my back. It had peaked through the diminishing clouds. I felt embraced by that warmth as a communication of love. Unworthy as I may feel, that love is still there to shine on me and warm my soul. Now, either I was beginning to lose my mind or starting to get it. I'd like to think it was the beginning of an understanding that is ever available to me, and, in this frenetic pace of a world, hard to remember.
This soul connection is available through most forms of interaction with any number of beings: earth, animals, people, wind … our connection to life is ever present and defined not by our bodies, but by our engagement with life.
There are times when embodied awareness deeply troubles the soul. Our earth is in the seventh week of bleeding oil in the Gulf of Mexico. Sea turtles, dolphins, birds, marine wildlife are threatened, their habitats damaged, their lives lost. Why is this? Because we drilled for oil a mile below the surface of one of this continent's most important marine ecosystems. We disconnected ourselves from the risk because of our greed and our lust for the use of our earth's resources to maintain our creature comforts and way of life.
By May 31st, the high estimation of the then 41 day oil spill reported around 800,000 barrels of oil released from the gaping wound in the earth. Aerial shots and underwater cameras dramatize this tragic pollution. Millions are outraged and appalled.
The amount of spill—800,000 barrels of oil in 41 days—comprise 4% of our use of oil in the United States for one day. Forty one days of this atrocious oil spill amounts to 4% of the oil we use in this nation in one day.
Yes, the negligence and the arrogance of technicians and executives contributed to this tragic accident, but it is our displacement of shared being, our denial of mutual life, that created this situation in the first place.
And we still see the magical thinking in our collective response. There is a general assumption that we should be able to control this accident better than we are. Somehow we should be able to quickly fix this colossal error in judgment.
The imaging of President Obama or some BP crew as incompetent because the horror of this event won't go instantly away further alienates us from the reality of our interdependence, as if the wound in the earth can be instantly healed (that someone will put on that Superman cape and plunge into the depths, stopping the leak … and why haven't they done that yet?)
We can act in ways that cause huge consequences through our lack of consciousness and our arrogant sense of ownership. Oppenheimer knew this the minute he observed the birth of the atom bomb … We must get more in touch with who we are as a whole body and soul.
Sometimes our bodies pose challenges to our embrace of fullness. Our pains, our aches, our discomfort, our weakened strength can overwhelm us, distract us from an ease of belonging. These challenges help us understand that we are not just our bodies, but embodied souls: beings that thrive from loving connections and gentle awarenesses. We are held, each of us, in the way we are and healed, each of us, in the way we love.
We are here to be part of the statement of life, to live in its genius, to manifest the harmony of existence that we can offer and to know, in gratitude, that it is a mutual participation of being—an equanimity beyond our single knowing—a presence of grace filled belonging, that we can nurture, that we can know.
So may it be. Amen.
Copyright © 2010 Lisa Ward. All Rights Reserved.