Receiving the Invitation

We’re nearing the end of our virtual/in-person meditation retreat in Belgium. Every morning since Sunday, Melissa and I have been magically whisked into a meditation hall in a small village outside of Brussels as we sit in the comfort of our living-room. in Worcester, Massachusetts. And every Belgian evening (our afternoon), the church bells from the nearby church ring and ring and ring. Not just the hour and the quarter hour, but pealing again and again as if calling us all to celebrate the sacredness of our lives.

Last night, Melissa quoted part of the poem Wild Geese by American poet Mary Oliver:

…Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh & exciting
over & over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Such a wonderful evocation and invitation. Oliver speaks of the terrible loneliness that human beings feel—the loneliness that can be so fierce it feels like there is no hope for connection—that we must bear our life forever trapped in solitary confinement of our minds. But she goes on to affirms that no matter the darkness or depression, the invitation of life is particular to you, is unqualified and endless.

The world calls to each one of us. This call is harsh and exciting. An oft-repeated observation about growing old is that it’s not for the faint of heart. But then that seems to goes for life itself. We find ourselves again and again in situations that have no solution.

Here we are, in the middle of a pandemic that has already gone on longer than any of us imagined. And the rising awareness of the extent and depth of the racial terrorism that has been at the heart of our country clearly cannot be fixed in any normal meaning of that word. And then there’s the personal stuff—the individual circumstances of our lives that we find have limitations and problems that have no solution.

It is this very unfixable life that calls to us—harsh and exciting. It’s not a Hallmark card, though there are moments of surpassing beauty. Subtle and wild, the splendor of life can reveal itself in any moment and in the midst of any situation. It is not something that is separate from the harshness and confusion of daily life. Paying attention and looking closely can help, but ultimately, life reveals itself in its own times and on its own terms.

But Mary Oliver’s assertion is that life calls to us over and over—and that this calling is the announcing of our place in the family of things. Such a wonderful evocation and invitation—that you and I belong—that we are not the outsiders we feel ourselves to be. We are part of the family. The things of this world are not the inert background against which we live our lonely lives, but rather they are part of us and we are part of them.

There is no credible teaching I know that says life is easy. But when we remember that the world is beyond our contrivance there can be a subtle unclenching, a relinquishing of the tight grip of our self-protection. When allow the sights and smells and sounds and situations of the world to touch us, we can begin to find our home right in the middle of this harsh and exciting and confusing and delightful world.