we fill time, waiting for it to fill us this morning i hear a cardinal, calling from some perch invisible, singing a tune I cannot understand and yet i do sense something, forming as bird song fills the air, echoing within the rafters of my being what should i feel when i pause, listening to life i don't understand, hearing my own pulse bound within? a roadrunner presented herself this morning, strutting with defiance over the powdery earth, eyeing me as if i was not there she was in no hurry, idling in the path before me, staring into the distance as if she knew something no clock in her nest, no measuring device strapped to her torso, her legs baring themselves to the task of nothing at least nothing that either of us could name so i stopped she stopped too we both simply waited and somewhere, in a place not so far from here the minutes of morning released their grip on meaning.
Month: July 2021
Will
A question has been debated in human history for as long as we have documented such things: am I responsible for my own decisions? At first blush, this seems like a silly inquiry; of course I am. How could I not be? I choose what time to set my alarm, whether to get up when the alarm goes off, what to wear in the morning, whether or not to eat breakfast, and whether to make it to work or class on-time. It is up to me if I smile or frown at people, if I develop or squander my talents, or I lead a moral life or not. How I will be remembered, what legacy I leave or contribution I make, is a matter of how I live, me, not how you live or how social conventions shape me or some other set of circumstances or external forces. Only I can captain my own ship. Only I can choose the course of my time and fate on earth.
Further reflection weakens the position of complete autonomy. We don’t choose (to the best of our knowledge) our birth date, our bodies, or the conditions in which we arrive in this world. And the birth lottery can be fickle, even brutal. As can be the physical shapes in which our budding consciousness finds itself. Or the events that may occur during our developing years, the things happening around us, the sometimes unpleasant or hateful things done to some of us. What are we to make of the powerless position of youth and the formative influences outside of its control? How are we to hold ourselves wholly accountable for our genes, the imperfections of our bodies or personalities, and the state of the city, community, or planet when we each individually arrive, grow, and develop into people we have come to call “adults”?
Science, philosophy, and religion have offered divergent perspective. The opinions within each of these fields have, over time, also changed. What was predetermined to Newton and Einstein is now much more probabilistic according to quantum theory. Time, space, and personal identity are no longer fixed, finalized, and firm. A person is mind, body, and spirit. While the architecture of such a holistic view is nowhere close to being understood, the walls that formerly divided the disciplines of study and existential reference seem, almost on a daily basis, to be less formidable barriers to a common sense of being than centuries of textbooks and dogma might have us believe. Physics – having definitively demonstrated that subatomic particles do not follow rules consistent with locality and linear external reality – seems in search of spiritual insight through language that is remarkably similar to ancient wisdom traditions and the best of humanity’s longstanding instinct for philosophy and faith.
Recently, I attended a workshop on wellbeing in health care. Led by an impressively talented faculty from a prestigious academic institution, we began our course of study with a consideration of the landscape in which clinicians working within major health systems currently find themselves. Tables of workshop attendees identified and shared a range of influencers on the wellbeing of the health workforce. “What is missing?” the session facilitator asked the room. Some additional ideas were shared and identified, followed by a prolonged pause. I felt my arm rise in the air. A microphone found its way into my hand. “What is the role of spirituality?” my voice asked. “Many traditions speak of health as a combination of mind, body, and spirit. How should spiritual health be part of the conversation on wellbeing?”
Whether or not those were the exact words I used to frame the question, it is not the sort of inquiry I would typically offer in such a public environment. To begin with, I am, at best, a novice seeker in the realm of the spirit; the waters of faith have always felt rather murky for me. In addition, I’m not someone who looks to be labelled, especially as the religious or squishy spiritual person in a setting of academia and medical science. The safe choice is to think the iconoclastic but not say it. Keep the belief out of the statistically valid. Separate church and state, personal and professional. So why I permitted my hand to pull me to stand and ask a question about something I know so little is perhaps part of the marvel of the universe and its tendency of late to dissolve boundaries. My right hand and arm felt like something needed to be said. My voice went along with the instinct of that extremity and said it. Whose will was at work in that surprising action?
The topic I offered made the written list of influences. It did not, unsurprisingly, generate much open discussion during the workshop. But there was a fair amount of sidebar, more direct dialogue. Throughout the days that followed, a number of people approached me privately to express their own desire for a more complete conceptual framework of health. As individuals, we seek something bigger than ourselves. Within our bodies, we sense something grander than the law of gravity. Among each other, we yearn to experience the joy of the collective, the freedom of the spirit, the release of something some dare to call the soul.
I don’t understand “will”. It amuses me to see the word used in so many ways, such as: a desire or wish; a legal declaration on the disposition of personal property after death; the plan of the Creator; the headstrong behavior of a child; a man’s name; the determination of an individual or group; the faculty of deliberate intent or discretion; a future state of action or being. It can be a noun, verb, or adjective. It can be loud or quiet, positive or subversive. It can reference human consciousness. It can signify the divine.
Who is responsible for my choices, or yours? Me, you, both of us, all of us, the prime mover of life? The intellectually isolating answer to each option is “I don’t know”. The mystically binding reply seems to be a simple “yes”.
Let’s keep raising our hands. Let’s keep saying yes.