This past weekend, I had the privilege of attending a meditation retreat at Great Vow Zen Monastery with a guest teacher in the Tibetan lineage known as Lama Lekshe. I still consider myself quite new to Buddhist teachings and practices, and I struggled much over the weekend with physical discomfort. My body is not used to sitting for so long.

The experience was difficult, and I can’t say I had any particular spiritual breakthroughs (I know, that’s not supposed to be the goal of meditation), but the teachings are still stirring within me. 

Again and again, Lama Lekshe reminded us, we don’t sit for ourselves, we sit for others. When we wake up in the morning and start our day, we don’t do it for ourselves, we do it for others. And really, there is no such thing as “other”. It is really for all beings that we live with presence and compassion.

Moving away from that retreat community and into this UU community, I wonder how to carry this presence forward. When I plan worship, facilitate Wellspring, sit in on Board meetings, offer pastoral care, it is easy to say that this is for others, for us all. But can it change the flavor of how we do our work, if we hold that intention in front of us, stated openly and clearly? I hope so.

As you move throughout your days, I want to invite you into this new practice, this experiment I’m trying. Waking up, brushing our teeth, preparing meals, and doing the work that needs to be done, let’s hold this refrain. For others, for others. For all beings, for all beings.

Maybe, this will bring some softness to our days, to our interactions with others. Or some passion and accompanying ferocity of spirit. Let’s watch what happens.

In closing, I want to offer a poem that First Unitarian member Ethel Gullette recently shared with me. She wrote it, inspired by Stephen Levine, Half Life. It is called “Opening.”

I wonder

how much of my life has been lived

with my heart half closed,

how many chances to open it all the way

have been passed by,

how many other hearts

reaching out to mine

have been neglected,

dismissed and dismayed

by the shadow

of the shut down part of my heart,

closed off by fear

of being not enough,

of being spread too thin,

of being rejected,

of being loved too hard,

of being left behind.

I wonder if my weathered heart

is strong enough now

to let go of fear,

to let go of caution,

to let down the armor,

to open the door,

to awaken to the wonder

of a heart wide open,

welcoming all who knock,

seeing all who beg to be seen,

singing its song to any and all who will listen

and hearing the clear bright bell

of nothing to hide,

nothing to fear,

nothing to need

but love.