Lord of the Dance

My prayer time and meditation practice has felt rather stale and empty lately. The emptiness I'm ok with because I want to be emptied of all my silly stories and ego patterns. Yet, even in this necessary spaciousness, I've sensed that something essential has been missing, though I could not put my finger on it. Well, they say that when the student is ready, the teacher arrives. My partner Herb recently gave me a lovely miniature bronze statue of Shiva Nataraja. Nataraja means "Lord of the Dance". This figure symbolizes the heart of both Hinduism and of our human experience.

The statue depicts the contradictions that define our lives. In Shiva's upper right hand is a drum that beats the sound from which the universe was born. In his upper left hand is fire, which destroys creation, reminding us of the constant cycle of birth and death, creation and destruction. The ring of fire represents everywhere that this dance occurs, which is the whole of the universe. And the statue sits on a lotus flower, symbolizing that the whole of the universe rests in the human heart or consciousness.

What Herb and I find most intriguing is the only moving part: Shiva's hair. The hair strands winging out to the side of his head look like a halo and are reminiscent of the Biblical character Samson, whose locks gave him great strength. The tradition is that Shiva's hair, usually wrapped up in a pyramid atop his head, starts to unravel and flails with reckless abandon as the dance becomes wild and ecstatic. He is fully embodied, sensuous, and on fire with life.

Oddly, Shiva's face is impassive. His expression represents that tranquil nothingness out of which all creation springs, reminding me of the emptiness I've been experiencing in meditation. It identifies neither with the joy of creation nor the pain of destruction, but rather holds it all with an accepting perspective. His gaze is eternity; his dance is the temporary, fully-engaged rhumba of the here and now.

I am realizing that this symbol speaks directly to my own spiritual path. I have focused so much on the gaze of eternity, that I've been missing the dance of life. Both are essential experiences. So, I'm starting to experiment. My morning devotional time still features quiet, but I'm also incorporating movement, vibrations of a singing bowl, images from my dreams that lead to inner dialogs, St. Francis' prayer spoken aloud while standing, and the warming beams of the sun's early rays. The silence and the sensuous are starting to spill over into the rest of my day, enabling me to experience that tango between the infinite and the finite.

While I don't have any hair to fling wildly in ecstatic dance, I am sensing the drumbeat of the universe in my own heart...and in my spontaneously tapping toe.

Have You Outgrown Your Image of God?

I once did a year-long internship in New York on Long Island. On days off I would take the Long Island Railroad into the city. Years after the internship was over I still pined for New York, particularly the energy of Manhattan. I returned about once a year to visit the wonderful people I had met and to immerse myself in familiar favorites (MOMA, Broadway shows, Central Park, and The Cloisters) as well as seeking out new experiences. Several years ago I decided to explore moving to New York. Rather than live as a tourist, I decided to live like a resident. What would it be like to bring groceries home on foot from the nearest store, which was four blocks away? What would it be like to walk through the snow to and from the laundromat in February?   How would I thrive week after week, month after month in weather that was far too cold for my comfort level? How would I feel living in a fifth-floor, 350 square foot, walkup flat?

I quickly realized that I was not so much in love with the idea of living in New York City. I was in love with the idea of being on a permanent vacation in Manhattan. What seemed like magical perfection in my 20's now seemed like far too much discomfort, frenzy, noise and effort with not nearly enough connection to nature. I had outgrown my image of the perfect place for me to live.

Just as I had outgrown that image of where to live, I realized I had also outgrown my image of God. The God who sent all non-Christians to hell or who condemned homosexuals or who wanted women to keep their mouths shut in deference to men, that God no longer resonated with me. I could no longer relate to a God more petty than I knew myself to be. My image of God was too small.

Have you outgrown your image of God? Is even the term "God" insufficient for your experience of the Divine, of the Essence of Life? One way to tell is by the fruits of your divine image. If your experience of the divine makes you more open-minded, open-hearted, fully alive and willing to serve your neighbors and even have compassion for your enemies, then that image is congruent for you. If, however, your image of the divine leads to judgment, fear, self-loathing, restricted living, and spiritual highs with no genuine concern or action for those at the bottom of life's barrel, then that image of the divine is too small.

The spiritual path is one of surrender, embrace and surrender. We surrender and release an old image of the divine with gratitude for how it served us to this point. We embrace the new life-giving experience of the divine that is emerging for us, knowing that it too must be surrendered some day if we are to keep evolving.

The journey never ends. You can never experience the fullness of the divine. The Mystery is inexhaustible. Therefore, our images of the sacred are always incomplete. That is not meant to discourage but to excite us. Whatever our experience, emotion, dream, woe, latent potential or growing edge, the divine is already there ready to meet us with more life-giving possibility than we can imagine.

I read once that if you started at one tip of Manhattan and ate breakfast, lunch and dinner at a different place for every meal, it would take over 80 years to reach the other end of Manhattan. And, of course, by then new restaurants would have arisen, not to mention all of the non-eating stops along the way that are worth savoring. If it is impossible to experience all that a 3-mile strip of land has to offer, then how limitless are the adventures within the entire sacred universe. That exploration is one thing we can never outgrow.

P.S. Join us for a day retreat on Saturday, December 1 and explore what the divine is for you now and update how you relate to the sacred so that it is meaningful and life-giving for you today. For more information and to register, visit the Classes page.