Times are Urgent: We Need to Slow DownTo be wholesome we must remain truthful to our vulnerable complexity. In order to keep our balance, we need to keep the interior and exterior, visible and invisible, known and unknown, temporal and eternal, together. No one else can undertake this task for you. You are the one and only threshold of an inner world. — John O’Donohue, Anam Cara “Times are urgent,” cautions Bayo Akomolafe, sharing the wisdom of his Nigerian elders, “we need to slow down.” Interesting advice in times of unprecedented chaos and uncertainty, when we have a supreme sense of urgency. Suffering has always been the condition of human life, and yet today’s world is burdened with an epidemic of anxiety and fear. Many people wrestle with feeling heartbroken. Outrage, fear and sorrow seem like very real obstacles to the inspiration and creativity we need to carry on. In Father Richard Rohr’s new book, The Tears of Things: Prophetic Wisdom for an Age of Outrage, he writes about the necessary spiritual process of going through anger and outrage to the true sorrow and grief that lives underneath anger. Like many wisdom holders, he is convinced that if we honor and feel it all—outrage, grief and sadness—a transformation occurs, allowing a miraculous and mysterious “hallelujah” to spontaneously arise. In such moments, trust in the benevolence of Life is present, inspiring creativity and praise. The moment of hallelujah inspires us to offer what Rohr calls “gratuitous goodness” as our gift to the world—a goodness that flows from our hearts and is freely given, regardless of circumstances. I take courage from these teachings because they mirror my inner experience: how pure praise (hallelujah) wells up mysteriously from the interplay of my joy and sorrow, giving rise to an awareness of goodness or wholeness within. “Gratuitous goodness” is a phrase that captures my imagination. Here we have two ideas: free or freedom (gratuitous) and good or whole (goodness). Having pondered the meaning of “good” over my life, many times I’ve fallen into seeing good or goodness as one side of a polarity: good as opposed to bad. Last year I started digging into the roots of the word “good.” I discovered that it comes from an archaic German root meaning “beneficial, a gathering together, complete, whole”—a unifying principle that recalls the Sanskrit word purna, which means fullness, complete, whole. When we are connected to inner goodness or wholeness, we are truly free to give, to offer the wisdom that comes from the totality of human experience. To embrace both joy and sorrow in our “vulnerable complexity” is the path of the heart. It’s a broken-hearted path, not an easy journey, but one that is full of grace. How do we walk the broken-hearted path? It’s one of the urgent questions of our times, and especially when our hearts feel shattered. Meditation, chanting and prayer are always helpful and healing, but they can become routine or dogmatic. Another way is to cultivate a mood of contemplation as the fabric of our ordinary lives. Through seamless contemplation, we cultivate the awareness that can rest in the wholeness of the spiritual heart. The act of merely slowing down is a good place to start. Slowing down, we might sink into a deeper place inside—a place that leads back to Sahaja, a Sanskrit term that refers to the innate being that is already present and arising spontaneously in each moment. Sahaja is inborn, existing within as true nature. Leaning into sahaja is a way to move through the busy “doing” of life. My teacher Lee affirmed this truth with the phrase “Just This.” To contemplate sahaja is a return to simplicity, trust, and basic goodness. Slowing down to spend time in nature—walking under tall trees or sitting beside water or contemplating the sky—a mysterious regeneration occurs beyond mind and thought. Slowing down, we may remember to breathe, to allow feelings to come and go, to connect with the source of our longing and aspiration, to take in the beauty around us. Slowing down gives us space or a pause in the distractions of the day to affirm “Just This,” bearing witness to the nature of Reality as it is. Bearing witness, we can accept the content of life, whatever it is, here and now. Slowing down we have a chance to feel into the flow, which can connect us to goodness. Here in this moment, we can affirm a whole-hearted trust that Life provides whatever is needed for our individual evolution as a soul and for the good of all—Earth, animals, plants and people. Ancient Chinese alchemy offers the same wisdom in wu wei, the Taoist idea of “effortless action” and “doing nothing” as a way of transformation. Slowing down is a supreme yet simple way to approach wu wei. These practices are not based on mere concept, an intellectual process or a passive state; they are ripe with mystery and magic. Like all moments of grace, effortless action or flow comes from the goodness of our own hearts aligned with the Universe and dharma. “Times are urgent, we need to slow down.” It is awesome how such a simple juxtaposition of opposites can reveal so much of what is essential and true. Bearing the friction of the opposites demands courage, vision and a heart big enough to hold all that we encounter, see and feel. Bearing witness requires a great deal of trust and courage in these chaotic times. In the simplicity of slowing down, we build a greater capacity to feel, see, and bear witness to suffering—both our own and that of others. Courage, clarity, a capacity for paradox, mystery and not knowing become the foundation stones of our inner sanctuary. Just in the artful act of slowing down, the torn fabric of our broken hearts is rewoven; wellsprings bubble up, infusing our hearts and minds with inspiration. Refreshed and renewed, we can nurture or mend relationships with others. Slowing down, we commune with Divinity. Slowing down, we remember to pray. Then, our actions in the world of everyday life become illumined, sweetened by the song of hallelujah.
Mary Angelon Young
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