It can be like prison - clanging cell bars, mundane routines, endless years spent in isolation. The sun rises, the sun sets. Life is a shadowy blur, indistinct, without purpose.

When problems are piling up on us, and stress and depression are strangling our energy, we can easily cave in to the consequences of feeling overwhelmed. Floundering, perhaps lost in hopelessness or cynicism, we can become physically ill. Not only does our body become out of balance, but so can our emotions, our thinking and even our spirit. Our voice can take on the ring of defeat, even mocking our own ideals. Alone in a crowd, we drift in a state of solitary confinement, each prisoner peering through their own bars at the next.

Withdrawing into a cell may not necessarily be a bad thing; our private worlds may be helping us learn a greater lesson. But in this state we can be uninspiring to ourselves, and quite possibly to others. And our behaviors, however isolated, can create their own causes and effects. For those effects, on ourselves and others, we are responsible.

There was once a young cook who helped prepare meals for the military garrison in his town. One day, after a great deal of thought, he decided to visit the local monastery. Upon arriving, he requested an audience with the bishop and declared his desire to become a monk. Several interviews with his potential superiors were arranged, which gave the young man’s family and friends time to assess his motivations. It was determined by both family and clerics that he was not being foolhardy, but was thoughtful and deliberate. Strictly voluntary, this particular monastery was known for its practices of isolation, contemplation and mediation. Once the cook was accepted into the order, his life became one of withdrawal. When not attending to the monastery’s gardening needs and chores, he spent most of his time in his cell. In later years, he withdrew from the monastery and found a cave, where he spent the rest of his life.

It can be similar when we withdraw into depression, fear, anxiety and stress. Like the young monk, we are making a ‘free will choice’ to enter these cells. Sometimes these journeys are contemplative, but there are times where we sentence ourselves to jail.

It is not unusual to feel smothered in the dark grip of these solitary, inner chambers. We don’t remember that we are masters of intention and creation. We overlook that when the cell door closes behind us each night, it is never locked. There are no prison guards or wardens. We are able to leave our self-imposed exile at anytime, just like the monk.

Sometimes, after many years, the monks, much like prisoners, can become reluctant to leave the security that the routine of a cloistered and guarded life offers. Withdrawal can become deeply ingrained, a way of living, a security blanket of perceived protection, cutting off integration from the greater world by making integration something to be feared. This can make it difficult to see the fruits and rewards of certain types of withdrawal. It can also make it difficult to stand up and let the inner light shine through – we have become too used to our familiar friend, the dark.

Pacing the floors of our cells of despair, we ignore the ringing sound of the prison door keys, rattling and jangling at our waist. Whether tossing and turning on the hard bench of self incrimination, or squatting and pounding on the cold stone floor of surrender and self-pity, we forget who it is that is making the choice.

But outside, the sun rises and sets every day. Perched forever in a higher perspective, the sun sees who is living in shadowed withdrawal, and who is living more openly, nakedly exposed on treeless plains. Neither approach has an effect on the sun; it just sees choices being made. And for all who live in its kingdom, the sun shines and glows without bias, forever giving its light and life.

A solitary sunflower stands in a field, straining through the earth and beginning to grow. Surrounded and infused by sunlight, it grows tall because it finds its purpose and peace by being nothing more or less than what it is – a sunflower. And it grows and provides life-giving seeds in the simplest of ways - by letting the sun shine in.

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Each minute I live, is less time left in this particular body. It is a steady, dripping depletion.

I turn around and look, and glance at the trail of blood my life is leaving behind. Squinting, I wonder… Is my blood staining the ground, only to be washed away by the rain of time? Or, will it heal and create new life, perhaps become a life-changing transfusion?

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This message continues to speak to me, something I penned a few years ago, haiku style. Written from a place of deep pain and soulful yearning, and duplicated from an old post, I view it today through a different set of lenses.

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The sky reminds me
of a place that’s far away –
buried deep… inside

So near, yet so far
that it’s really hard to see –
yet… you know it’s there

A constant presence
sensed even through denial –
beckoning… inward

Neither right nor left
just centered… deeper… deeper
to home… in the sky

19 Jan 2003

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Fear, that great disabler, withers beneath harmony. Moving inward toward harmony, fear stands as a great spiked boulder ready to puncture any who dare cross its dreadful path. Step into fear without hestitation, lunging as Neo into Agent Smith. Enter the center of fear, for in the center is something fear cannot deny.

Harmony’s Embrace

Yearn for and feel the call of harmony - her voice beckoning with soothing chant.

Calm and fluid, she clasps your fear, casting it away like mist.

Feel and hear her, pulling from a deeper place - urging you, calling you, beckoning you to embrace.

Immersed and bathing, swimming in harmony, all is calm. Hearts slow, breath stops.

Home is discovered. Home.

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Within surrender is found the greatest and most relentless of strengths, culled from the immovable pliability of life’s deepest inner power.

Surrender

Descending, sinking into surrender, plummeting through fears, past anxieties, spiraling yet further into darkness.

And in that darkness stopping - and there, suspended, between breaths - floating in the still pool of eternal flow.

Aware, and quietly, respectfully, bathing in the deep, dark river of great and ancient harmony - sustained and merged, submerged, as liquid warmth and life permeates and infuses every cell, ever molecule, every atom, with sustaining embrace, cleansing and caressing everything existing inside and outside of forever.

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The truth that sets me free, makes me hate you at times (my Lord)

My teacher it seems, is old in some ways
And in others he’s seen as quite young;
He can say what he means, and never be mean,
Yet be heard like he’s wagging his tongue.

23 Nov 2001

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After some years of living, and a bit of forgiving
It’s really much easier to see,
That the confusion in life, indeed most of the strife
Comes from a paradox known simply as me.

23 Nov 2001

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