If You Want to Be Happy, Practice Compassion

The theme of our retreat this month was "Compassion, Healing and Gratitude." You would think that I would be in for a pleasanter experience than the previous weekend retreat, whose theme was "Suffering," but I seem to always find a way to surprise myself.

Let me begin by stepping back a few weeks. We had our last small-group Contemplative meeting in April, and we have drawn ever closer as a group over the previous months, so I decided to bake a cherry pie to share and celebrate, using the pie carrier I had been given by group member Carol.

Fortunately, it came out well, and everyone seemed to enjoy it (plus I managed to bring a couple of pieces home for Mary). The group has provided such a warm, accepting presence as we shared our good times and bad along this contemplative journey, I shall miss them, but perhaps we can continue somehow afterwards. The weekend began this month with Carol, a small-group member, taking me aside to thank me for the pie and inviting me to eat dinner with her at one of the tables outside, which was a real treat that we repeated (even when our meals were in silence) over the weekend, since we had beautiful weather. We were joined by another member of our group, Pat, as well.

The weekend had begun on a warm note, and continued that way as our first lecture dealt with compassion's role in the contemplative life. I found this quote from Rachel Naomi Remen particularly resonant: "Helping, fixing, and serving represent three different ways of seeing life. When you help, you see life as weak. When you fix, you see life as broken. When you serve, you see life as whole. Fixing and helping may be the work of the ego, and service the work of the soul." I see the contemplative life as being one of observing and praying primarily, preparing yourself to be available when you are called to serve.

We were joined at Mariandale this weekend by a group of Zen Buddhist archers. There was about a dozen of them, and they were men and women from a wide range of ages. They used what appeared to be traditional Japanese bows (long bows taller than the archer). They began by holding the bow above their heads, slowly pulling it down to eye level, releasing the arrow, and standing still for a few moments after the shot. Although they had targets set up, hitting the targets didn't seem to be the point.

Most shots fell short or passed over the targets. One of our facilitators asked one how they knew if they had made a "good shot;" she replied that it was more spiritual rather than measuring success by the physical result. It appears that all cultures/religions have their contemplatives.

Another highlight of the weekend was walking the labyrinth. There is a Chartres-type labyrinth on the grounds at Mariandale. During previous weekend retreats, I have made a point of walking the labyrinth on my own during free periods. As I walk, moving close to and then away from the center until I finally arrive and then head outward, my main focus has been the distance between me and the center, repeating the Jesus prayer ("Holy Jesus, son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.") throughout the trip inward and outward. This weekend, we walked the labyrinth as a group leaving space inbetween. My concentration focused on my fellow pilgrims, not the labyrinth itself. I never knew who I would next pass close to, and I wondered if we could safely pass those going the opposite direction when we returned from the center, as the pathway was quite narrow. Of course, I quickly learned that all one has to do is step outside the pathway to let the other pass. I also discovered that the contemplative aspect of walking the labyrinth began as soon as we left the meeting place with the intention in mind. This state of mind continued until we had made our way back to the room to discuss what we had felt. The group experience was very different from the solitary one, as my perspective went from looking inward to concentration on my fellow travelers and their journey.

 The most difficult part of the weekend for me was "Gazing at Icons." We were asked to gaze at the icon of Jesus pictured above. The facilitator spoke for the first few minutes about Jesus' eyes and how we should imagine Jesus peering inside of us. We should welcome him in to every part of our being. This was followed by an extensive period (perhaps 15 minutes) of silence. My reaction was not what I would have predicted. I felt very uncomfortable as I imagined Jesus penetrating into my darkest places of guilt and shame. I did not want to share those places with Jesus. This is not a problem I've experienced before. I am well aware that we are all broken, with dark, secret places inside, but during this exercise, I felt a very primitive, emotional response. The period of silence crept by, my only desire being for it to end. When it finally came to an end, we were called to share our experience with two of our fellows. My partners were Pat, from my small group, and Jalyn, someone I didn't know very well. I wasn't sure if I could share with them, particularly Jalyn. I waited to be the last to speak, wondering if I could come up with some other story to tell. When my turn came, I decided I had to be honest. Both Pat and Jalyn were more compassionate in response than I expected, describing my story as "beautiful." We ended with hugs (I'm always on the lookout for hugs).

Afterwards, I had a session with my spiritual director Jeanine, who suggested I had more self-exploration to do. I'm certain of that, and it appears it will take more time to be comfortable with myself than I thought. But that's the beauty of being on a journey that never quite ends; there's always more to learn. I should give credit to the writer of this blog's title: the Dalai Lama. The full quote from the workshop handout was "If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion."