Day: May 30, 2013

I confess to having a stereotype in my head of what the spiritual man was like, I am moving rapidly away from it. For many years, when I thought of the Spiritual Man, I thought of a cross between Buddha and the Dalai Lama, maybe with a couple of saints thrown in, a dose of Gandhi. The Spiritual Man, in my mind was quiet, soft-spoken, he had endless patience, anger and accusation rolled off him like water off of a sea lion. He had a gentle smile, loved peace and quiet, lived simply, and did not fall to the ravages of life for humans – pettiness, jealousy, anger, anxiety and impatience.

I learned to chuck this stereotype at various stops on my hero journey. Thomas Merton wrote honestly of his rage and doubt and fear, his conflicts with authority, his retreat from confrontation, his great anxiety about his writing and his choice to leave the secular life for the monastery. The Dalai Lama has written candidly that no one who worked with him at the office would describe him as gentle or patient. He throws fits, is a perfectionist, gets impatient and angry. And if you read too much about Gandhi or Mother Teresa, you learn not to read too much. Like the rest of us, the Spiritual Man knows how to put the mask on and when he can take it off.

I have met a lot of deeply spiritual people on my travels in recent years, and I have taken note of this: they are rarely quiet, their lives are filled with anxiety, conflict and anger, they experience numerous travails, punctuated by great periods of insight, self-examination, peace and change. This, I realized, is why they work on their spiritual lives – they have problems and they understand problems. Problems and struggle lead to insight and the search for peace.  The stereotype of the Spiritual Man (or woman) was impossible for me to sustain. Every time I got angry or sent a snarky message off to some annoyingly self-righteous person,  I feel like I was a failure spiritually. Every time I speak ill of someone, I ask myself if I need to do more work on me. There is this idea that if you are simply human, then you are failing in your spiritual work, if you are not that quiet and totally self-controlled man, then you are not a spiritual man.

I loved reading in Thomas Merton’s journals of his long feud with his bishop, with whom he battled constantly for  decades. Every year, when he taught the novice monks how to chant in Latin, he inserted insults and curses for the bishop which were sung in open mass by the poor and unaware young students. A Spiritual Man after my own heart.

But it is our very humanity, our own embrace and interaction with life that allows us to be spiritual, which is not the same as being perfect or completely self-controlled or flawless in our dealings with the world. We all have doubts, we all need work, there is no perfect human being.  The Dalai Lama has to deal with doctors, internal politics, troublesome employees, mood swings and chronic anxiety by his own admission, and he is on Facebook counting his likes (he has millions of them) just like the rest of us. He often speaks of the fact that none of the people who work with him recognize the smiling, gentle man who speaks all over the world to adoring audiences. That doesn’t lessen his message for me, it makes it all the more appealing.

It is a revelation to me and for me to come to understand that spirituality does not ask us to be inhuman, but to recognize our humanity and our frailty and to love ourselves all the more. I do not need to be perfect, I need to be open to change and peacefulness and decency in my dealings with the world. It is a trip that never ends, a project without deadline or end. The spiritual man (or woman) is you and me, no better, no worse. Some wake up to it, some never do.

Lulu tried for a third time to follow the other donkeys into the pasture, and once again, she got close and then came back and ran to Maria for comforting. Red is trying to figure out how to handle the sheep’s leap over the water, he went in after them, found things satisfactory and came back with me. I have no doubt that Lulu will figure it out, but she is clearly upset when Fanny and Simon head over the water and chomp away on the thick brush and heavy grass. If nothing else, that will draw Lulu in. I’m guessing Sunday or Monday, when the heat wave eases.

I was  feeling drowsy, it’s nearly 90 degrees and getting human, I’ve been up since 3 a.m. and so I grabbed the camera, got the big lens and headed out to a farmer’s field down the road that I’ve had my eye on for a couple of years. I like this hot and hazy light, it’s the light of Tuscany, sort of. Perked me right up walking through that field.

For many years, I did not see

the color and the light,

in the world, and the color and the light

in the world, did not see me.

And one morning, I awoke to the true news

of the world, the stories came to me everywhere,

and I enlisted in the army of life,

the chorus of awakening,

and I became a warrior,

for color. And for light.

We took Lulu and the donkeys out to the pasture twice – once at 5 a.m., once around 11. She wouldn’t cross the water either time, although she got closer the second time. It was fascinating the see the way the donkeys behave and communicate with one another. They are always together, always aware of one another,  a constant stream of brays, nudges and movements that bind them together. It was Simon’s fierce protective instinct for the herd that caused him to attack Rocky, an animal he instinctively saw as a threat. He was constantly calling out to Lulu, this morning and answering her. Fanny came out to nudge Lulu and try and get her across. We stood on the sidelines like soccer moms telling her she could to it.

Fanny and Simon have no fear of the water, Simon just waded into it, Fanny more gingerly. The sheep, who don’t like to get their feet wet, just jumped over it. Someone suggested that Lulu is anxious about the reflections in the water, and that is possible, but I think it’s more a question of her gauging the depth and the footing. Donkeys learn from each other, they evolve, and as she watches Fanny and Simon negotiate the passage, she will try it. The water also will go down as the rains ease up, and that will make it easier. I will keep writing about it and videotaping the process. We were amazed once again at Zelda’s leadership and strength, she didn’t blink, she just led the sheep right through it. Quite an animal.

It is also clear to me that Simon has been around water, he just waded right into it. I love watching this and am happy to share it.

It is really quite amazing to see the instincts animals arouse in us. I love observing these animals, listening to them, watching them. We are not concerned about Lulu crossing, she will get there when she is ready. No donkey in the world would pass up the brush and grass in the new pasture for too long. We are leaving the gate open and my guess is that it will take her a few days. I loved shooting the video, I felt it offered a true window into the real life of some real animals and the very remarkable way they care for and communicate with each other. Once it became clear Lulu wasn’t coming, Fanny and Simon came right back out to her. Very few animals are as loyal and attentive to one another as donkeys. I am lucky to be able to share this with you, come inside the world of these remarkable and unappreciated animals.