Contribution, The Snapping Jaws, and the Economy of Spirit

Recent events have shown me a surprising truth: that which I hunger for, more than anything now, is to contribute. The objects of the verb are vague; contribute to my community, my world; contribute something, anything that makes a difference for good. II don’t think it even matters whether my contribution is acknowledged - just that I know that it is strong.

Another surprise to me is the conviction that this is what everyone wants. It’s so opposite to what we’re sometimes told - that we want to receive, to have; that giving is an obligation, something you do in order to get. Yet the desire for fame points to the urge to contribute - traditionally people receive fame because they are good at something, appreciated for something they have been able to give.

You might think that communities would welcome with joy the contributions offered by each of its members. Indeed, that is how I’ve always hoped to be received. But I found that there is another factor at work, which I recently realized is an effect of the Snapping Jaws (see my posts on Sept 9th and 16th, 2010).

Before I found the co-op preschool for my kids that I loved, the one which made me feel like I and my kids all had unique gifts, which were appreciated by the community, I joined another co-op preschool. In that preschool I got the feeling, after a while, that the teacher disliked me. It was a sense of slow-dawning coldness, a sense of impatience with anything I might have to say during the parent education sessions that she ran. Much later, I considered that it might have been because of how I filled out the registration form. There was a box for my interests, or what I might have to contribute, and I had jammed it full of different things, using tiny handwriting to fit it all in. I was eager to contribute. She probably felt I was showing off. My conclusion then was that I had been naive to assume people wanted to know what I had to offer - that what they really wanted was for me to know what they had to offer. But now I think the culprit was the snapping jaws.

Here’s the anatomy of it: We all want to contribute. We all want our contributions to be met with joy and appreciation. So far so good. But the snapping jaws say “your contribution isn’t good enough. Look, it’s not nearly as good as other people’s.” If I buy that, then it is suddenly in my interest that other people’s contribution not be as good as mine. So the snapping jaws, now speaking as my voice, say to me: “Their contribution is not as good as yours.” Which, if I buy it, makes me look at the contributions of others not with love, but with criticism. And I may be surprised also to find that my efforts to contribute are not met with the appreciation I had hoped for, because of the same snapping jaws. All these people - loving people, good people - people like myself, who would like to think good of everyone, are suddenly transmitters of unkindness.

Snapping jaws try to wind me up in an argument about who is being unkind or unfair in expectations and perceptions. But my rule is, don’t be drawn into the fight. Tag the snapping jaws, step back, and see what God knows about the situation. Which is the economy of Spirit.

The economy of Spirit is simple and clear: We are designed to contribute what each other need. We are designed to feel deep gratitude for what others give, and deep gratitude for the fact that our contribution meets their needs and evokes gratitude in them. There’s no place in the economy of Spirit for doubt about our gifts or criticism of others’. There’s no place in the economy of Spirit for bad economic times, or despair of not having a venue for our contribution, or not being provided with what we need. This truth is ours to prove, through prayer and through refusing to transmit the lies of the snapping jaws.

The Golden Rule

At the end of our church meeting tonight, we repeated the Sixth Tenet: “And we solemnly promise to watch, and pray for that Mind to be in us, which was also in Christ Jesus; to do unto others as we would have them do unto us; and to be merciful, just, and pure.”

So I let myself mean it: This is a solemn promise.
OK. I’ll watch. I’ll watch each moment.
I’ll pray (along with all the others here) for the Mind of Christ (what must that be like?)

What would I want to have others do unto me? - Oh. I would want them to be really glad to have me here. I would want them to feel touched, moved, lifted by my presence. So can I do that to others? Can I allow myself to be touched, moved, lifted by them? By each one in particular? As I contemplate it, it feels like heaven.

The Gift of Now

My sister (the bicycle lady) responded to my two last posts. I think the essence of her comments is: you have to work with what you have. If you don’t have the floating lift of joy, you have to power on anyway. If you’re not feeling completely holy about your family, you still need them, and they need you, and it is a comfort.

I think she’s right. She brings up a question that must trouble all seekers of a spiritual view: what to do with the messiness of now? So you know Spirit is the only thing that sustains - how does that wash the dishes and pay the bills? How does it intervene in an awkward conversation? How does it impart grace?

Here is what I think: although I may say that spiritual sustenance is not found in material things, it’s always true that spiritual sustenance is found right here. In every single right here, in the opportunity of every moment. Whatever I’m seeing right here and now, therefore, has the ability to provide me with deep spiritual sustenance. A kitchen full of dirty dishes? Check. There’s the symphony of sound, the clanks and pings, or there’s the music I put on to accompany my work, or simply the opportunity to move in grace. My son? Check. I can be delighted by Spirit revealing itself to me in his unique being.

I have an image of what this looks like. It’s of a bright light released, rising up from a person (like plasma in my picture), an unbelievable illumination. In my vision, every individual in every moment has the ability to be that node of illumination, that place of opening. The opening has the feeling of incredible richness. I have examples in mind: the way my father-in-law can, in a certain moment, feel deeply loved, uniquely appreciated, so his spirit floods with a sense of comfort and gratitude for the simple care provided him. That comfort is the light-release of that moment, similar to the looks of joy on the faces of the dying men suddenly cared for by Mother Teresa’s ministries, in the movie I saw about her. Another example is the spark between two young people (or people of any age) awaking the possibility of love.

Here’s the big secret: love is not proprietary. We may think it’s only released when all the stars are aligned and all the circumstances are perfect. But any moment, any person can release it. This is the source of spiritual sustenance - the release of those plasma flows of love. And though I make it sound exotic, it is something I have known throughout my life - in my love, as a teenager, of little kids; in my love of my own kids; in my attraction to music and moments of beauty. I’m just learning it’s more universal than I thought.

So for me there’s no asceticism, no denial of anything present. My practice instead is to look at each moment and ask to see the gift of now - the light-release that lifts me up in joy.

What Sustains Me

Today I had my writing group at Angeline’s. (I show up at the homeless women’s day shelter and see if anyone wants to join me for writing, and we publish what they write in The Occasional Times, a newsletter by and for homeless women). My friend Janice joined me, and she had a suggested topic: What Sustains Me? So I wrote the following:

What sustains me? I was thinking about that this morning, wide awake at 5:30 when I needed to get up, aware of my husband’s weariness, the sheer inertia against which he pushed, after a restless night, to start another day. I could feel the weariness a little, but I waited for the buoyant hope to lift me, float up the sunken place behind my eyes, give me the lift to move me through my morning duties.

I don’t know what I’d do, I thought, if I didn’t have it. Don’t know how I’d function, day after day, if I just had to talk myself into moving. Mine is not the fortitude of great determination that powers my sister day after day, fighting off anxiety through bold activity. My movement is more of a floating, held up by a sense of life’s basic joy. I pray for this for my husband and for my sister, not because they need it to function, but because they have a right to joy and peace as they go through their days.

I am sustained by the fundamental joy of life. I am sustained by the sense of goodness - goodness as the law in which we all operate. And I am sustained by Spirit.

I see Spirit in the release of light and comfort that comes when anyone is seen for what she or he is - when their elemental divinity is recognized, or recognizes another. A single smile can unlock it, and the tiniest recognition of that divinity can sustain people for a long time. I try to imagine: what would it be like if we all got used to a lot more? What if we got used to loving and being loved as the baseline for interactions, instead of that rare thing to be occasionally obtained? I think we would save the world.

The Network of Our Support

At the beginning of this year I started to feel the urge to think big, comprehensive thoughts, to lay them out on great sheets of paper, and they would cover The Network of Our Support, That Which We Rely On. It came to me clearly the next morning while I was praying - a rolling list of networks, things we try to put in place to make our lives happy, safe, fulfilled. Church was an example. I don’t generally think of church that way - I usually think about it in spiritual terms - but at the Religious Leaders Lunch I started seeing how for many people it could function primarily as a network you could join for safety and support. If you’re in the hospital, a pastor will come visit you. If you’re a shut-in, church members might come sing you Christmas carols, and otherwise you might find purpose doing such things for others.

I realized that morning that each of the networks could be thought of in spiritual or material terms: marriage, as a spiritual connection or as a financial/social arrangement; career, as a calling in which your deepest being is fulfilled or as an agreement to do certain things in exchange for a name, a recognized place, an economic niche, etc; family, as a holy chord of deep love or as a set of people to count on for company and to keep you from falling through the cracks. I reflected that in each case (and I also considered friends, community, government) the spiritual sense was satisfying, and the material sense, though it might initially seem important, would ultimately feel like a death trap. So I realized, as I was praying, that it was pointless to put my weight into the material manifestations of all those things I feel we need (we being I, my children, my husband) because all the good of them is provided in the spiritual experience, which is already established, and which will, because it must, make itself tangibly manifest in our lives. So. No need for great sheets of paper. A simple clarity small enough to fold up and put in my pocket.

Or, to say the same thing in another way (from my Daily Sonnet discipline):

The focus of my early prayer revealed
A simple answer to an urgent query
What harbors me, what shelters, what will heal
All doubts about security and purpose.
While doubtless through each mortal net I’ll tumble
Not church, not home, not job can keep me safe
With Spirit’s strong support I’ll never stumble
Knowing my Principle will bring me sure relief
For everyone I’ve diligently cherished
In my persistent early morning prayer
And claimed for them a good that wouldn’t perish
Each need is met with Spirit’s constant care
One sweep of Truth enfolds us all in grace
The arms of Love, a radiant embrace.