I sometimes have a kind of knowledge of what I mean to say before I say it. But perhaps more often, I say, pen, and set down words I feel and believe in the hope of finding out what I mean (or meant) upon hearing back from others.
One example of a saying which came to me and which…feels solid and helpful but also a little elusive is this: Spirit know no division.
My friend, Jazz Robertson, recently invited me to unpack my meaning in regard to this particular zinger. Words arose.
Mine: I think of breath which makes me think of open sky and air and how it doesn't register or acknowledge or respect boundaries. A little like art. A little like the weather. A little like a fox I made eye contact with in somebody else's yard this morning. Spirit speaks and gives voice.
Jazz’s: So things that aren't nearly as unconnected or unrelated as they may appear?
Mine: There are no unrelated phenomena. Sensing and knowing this is and acting on it is, I think, responding to the gift of spirit/breath.
Jazz’s: Sounds like mindfulness. If there are no unrelated phenomena and we know this, that brings with it a level of responsibility, no?
Mine: I think it does. Apart from my elected officials (over whom I share custody), I try to avoid telling people what their responsibilities are, but...my mind gets to racing from time to time.*
Jazz’s: Slowing it down is a prudent call, though I draw the line at people with outsized influence saying or doing harmful things without consequence. Someone told me once that we become what we sit still for and it's stuck with me since.
Mine: I also draw that line. I usually begin with an indirect approach (a question or an observation) which people who've assumed an abusive posture take any way they want to. Even if they don't engage me back, words have been heard or at least set down for the public record.
And…this concludes my report on this particular exchange with Jazz Robertson. That said, I meant what I said: Spirit knows no division.
*Those are my words, but whenever I speak of my mind racing I hear the words, “My mind is racing,” as sung by Michael Stipe.
I’ve been thinking about the moment of realization reaching for words to express the sense of awe one experiences in out of the blue moments. My reflections are evolving. I think spirit is like a web of knowing or feeling that we skate along but when close to the center of knowing find ourselves swirling in a whirlpool that draws us in but may confuse us too. THH
I am very happy at the way this dialogue went, especially the comparison with air or breath that knows no boundaries and the following notion that thus we share responsibility.