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December, 2005
As a healer, I believe that cultivating an open heart is crucial to
healing our illusion of separation, from one another and from the
divine. The process of heart opening can create a bridge between our
human experiences. This bridge or the Vesica Piscis, is a
“geometric figure revealed when the circumference of one circle
is drawn so that it touches the centre of another, the oval space
that is created between them is a sacred mathematical design with a
vibration which equates to coherence, love, bliss and perfect
unity.” (Christine Page MD Frontiers of Health 1992,p.172)
Meeting another in this sacred space of the heart allows for one to
remain true to oneself which simultaneously being touched by the
center of another. In this shared space of love we are truly
connected to the divine. Cultivating an open heart is a vehicle to
recognizing the divine consciousness at core of our being.
Being human allows us opportunities to come up against the blind
spots, the prickly places which prevent us from recognizing the
divine aspects of all living beings. I have wondered if our humanness
is simply a vehicle for knowing God. When I find myself
‘bothered’ by another’s perceived failings I know that
what I am ‘bothered’ by is alive and well within me too. I
know that I am standing at the edge of the circle having lost sight
of the opportunity to create something greater.
In need of vacuum bags, I went to the sewing store that sells them.
A quilting session was in progress attended by a woman I knew from
church. She was excited when she saw me.
"Have you seen this?” she said, putting a copy of the Daily
News in my hands.
“That’s my Kate!”
A multi-paged spread was devoted to the opening of The Chopra
Center in NYC. A photo of her beautiful daughter was the centerpiece
of the article.
How exciting for her!” I remarked, “Working at the Chopra
Center must be a great a compliment to her abilities as a healer.”
"It’s a bunch of hooey!” her mother commented. “I
don’t believe any of it!”
I asked her if she had read any of Deepak Chopra’s books.
"No!” she said, rolling her eyes.
I told her that his work was very inspirational. One of his books in
particular, ‘The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success’ was
instrumental in the development of my own spiritual path.
The woman wasn’t buying it. She kept talking.
"I haven’t seen you around lately, (meaning church) too
busy for us?”
“No.” I replied, “actually, I don’t think
you’ll be seeing me there much at all.”
She wanted to know why.
“I’m on the board and all, I’d be interested.”
I hesitated, “Ever since I attended the annual meeting last
spring, I didn’t feel as though I belonged there.”
She pressed for more.
“When I attended the annual meeting it became clear to me that
there was an undercurrent of judgment and assumptions about
attendance and giving at the church that made me very uncomfortable.
Those who had been church members for years if not decades appeared
to hold sovereign will over the newer members refusing to allow a
difference of opinion or questions to be raised. I realized that what
I had initially sought, a spiritual community of like minded
individuals, was not to be found here. I decided to take some time
away and think about it.”
She listened and said, “Wherever there are churches, there are
church committees, wherever there are church committees there are
people, it’s like that in all churches. Eventually the old guard
will die off.”
She hoped I’d reconsider.
I remarked that the Christmas Eve service at the church was
particularly beautiful.
“Oh, I hate that service, that’s when they all come out,
all the ones who only show up on Easter and Christmas.”
“That’s what I mean.” I countered, “Who are we to
judge the reason why someone comes to a service. The fact that they
are there at all is a gift of presence at a sacred community
gathering. How are we to know how one might have been effected by
their presence just once and who are we to judge others motivations?”
“That’s true.” She said and proceeded to tell me about
a time when she was annoyed at her husband for going to a service
when she wanted to go to a fancy lunch but it turned out that at the
service something very special happened.
“Well maybe we’ll see you there sometime.” She said.
I had stopped listening.
What I didn’t say was that I found the church at a time when my
life was disassembling. My sons, the woods, prayer, were the only
things that got me out of bed each morning. I thought about dying
every moment of every waking hour. The beauty of the small,
unimproved gothic structure, the intelligent, human and approachable
sermons of the rector, allowed me a measure of peace that I carried
with me all week. In a way being at the church gave me the hope
necessary to live. It became the catalyst for my spiritual self to
take flight. Over the course of the next few years, I involved myself
in quiet ways, supporting the church as a sacristan, hosting
occasional church coffees, ironing the linens and this past year
buying the wine and candles. It was my offering, my expression of
gratitude for the spiritual community I found myself returning to
each week.
I said good-bye, got my vacuum bags and left, thinking long after
about our encounter, thinking about her dismissal of alternative
healing as nonsense, thinking about her judgments about church
attendance, feeling justified in my decision not to go back to church.
I was grateful for my training as a healer when a few weeks later,
the mirror was held up to me and I saw a truth about myself. I saw
myself standing separate at the edge of the circle.
The day after Thanksgiving, my mother and I went to the movies. The
woman and her husband took the seats immediately behind us. She and
my mother were about the same age and struck up a conversation. As I
listened to them, two strangers meeting, I realized how they were
unconsciously searching for common reference points and looking, they
found them, a love for British actors, Dame Judi Dench and Teatime on
PBS, memories of Lowell Thomas and early TV. As I listened, I
realized that their search for familiar ground was building a bridge
between their two hearts. I saw clearly how my judgments had short
circuited my thinking.
We are in fact, mirrors for one another. I cannot see in another,
what I do not recognize in myself. I had aborted any attempt to
create a bridge between us by judging what I perceived her beliefs to
be, about my work as a healer and my motivation to attend church.
Then she surprised me.
“You do that healing thing with the hands right? Do you know a
homeopathic treatment for arthritis; I have a friend who’s
suffering terribly.”
“I’m not a homeopath, but I know two good ones I could
recommend. You might want to try the health food store they have many
common remedies.”
“I even tried using my hands.” She said smiling and
wiggling her hands out toward me as the movie, Pride and Prejudice began.
It was no accident that the movie we were there to watch was Pride
and Prejudice. Nor was it a coincidence that this woman who’d
previously triggered such a sense of self-righteous judgment happened
to sit behind me. I believe that all of our human experiences are
opportunities to know, to feel, to sense, to recognize the divine
interconnectedness of all things. By witnessing she and my mother
making a mutual effort at connection, I ‘saw’ how my own
prejudice and pride (about my work as a healer and the reasons I
attended church) had prevented me from building a bridge between us.
I had failed in the most basic way to create the Vesica Piscis.
We live in community, connected to one another, connected to the
earth, connected to the creator in all aspects of our consciousness.
We simply are often blind to it. Cultivating the awareness of divine
consciousness requires a deepening of our tolerance of one another.
We deepen that awareness by finding the common ground in both the
desirable and less desirable human attributes, knowing full well that
we carry the seeds of all actions within our own tender hearts.
Opening the heart builds a bridge to divine consciousness. Opening
the heart requires us to recognize the sweet tender spot of our own
fragility in the prickly human encounters that trigger us. Opening
the heart is a commitment to always searching for common ground and
building from it, a bridge into the heart of God.
Kate Dechard
November 30, 2005 |
