In recent times, I’ve found myself developing a profound love for the universe, a sentiment that’s both challenging and enriching to articulate. To illustrate this journey, let me share two poems that have deeply resonated with me. The first is by Thich Nhat Hanh, a revered Buddhist monk.
Thich Nhat Hanh’s poem beautifully captures the essence of interconnectedness. It speaks of being both the frog and the snake, the child in Uganda and the arms merchant, the refugee girl and the pirate. This duality highlights the complexity of existence, where joy and pain coexist. The poem urges us to recognize our true selves, embracing both our laughter and our tears, and opening our hearts to compassion.
The message is clear: love transcends boundaries. It invites us to see beyond the superficial separations and understand that, at a deeper level, we are all one. This realization fosters a sense of unity and compassion, urging us to call each other by our true names, acknowledging our shared humanity.
The second poem, by the poet Kabir, explores the dance of duality. Kabir describes a profound connection with the divine, where every action becomes an act of worship, and every sight a reminder of the divine presence. This perspective blurs the lines between the self and the divine, creating a seamless flow of love and devotion.
In states of heightened awareness, the boundaries between the self and the universe dissolve. This perspective allows us to appreciate the beauty and perfection of form, as described by Plato and embodied in the concept of the Dao in Chinese philosophy. Everything is interconnected, and this lawful unfolding of the universe is a testament to its inherent perfection.
Yet, this perfection can seem impersonal. My guru in India often reminded me, “It’s all perfect,” even in the face of suffering and injustice. This perspective challenges us to step back from our immediate human concerns and see the broader picture. However, this detachment can feel cold, lacking the warmth of human empathy.
The heart, unlike the mind, knows no boundaries. It reaches out in compassion, willing to give without hesitation. Yet, the mind often intervenes, creating a protective barrier to shield us from the overwhelming suffering in the world. This internal dialogue between heart and mind is a delicate balance we must navigate.
So, how do we keep our hearts open while maintaining our well-being? The answer lies in embracing both perspectives simultaneously. Standing solely in our humanity can be unbearable, while focusing only on perfection can feel detached. True compassion arises when we integrate both views, allowing us to act from a place of empathy while acknowledging the universe’s unfolding.
In my work with patients, I witness this balance. When someone faces a serious illness, my human heart empathizes with their fear and uncertainty. Yet, another part of me recognizes this as part of their soul’s journey, an opportunity for growth and awakening. This dual awareness allows us to see suffering as a catalyst for spiritual evolution.
Suffering, often perceived as cruel, can be a path to grace. It reveals where our minds cling to separateness, offering a chance to transcend these limitations. The great saint Ramana Maharshi exemplified this awareness, viewing death as a mere transition, not an end.
By stepping back from the mind’s constraints, we can fully embrace the present moment. Happiness and sadness coexist, and the richness of life lies beyond these polarities. Embracing this duality allows us to experience the fullness of existence, appreciating the beauty and complexity of the universe.
Read the poems by Thich Nhat Hanh and Kabir mentioned in the article. Reflect on the themes of interconnectedness and duality. Write a short essay discussing how these themes relate to your personal experiences and understanding of the universe. Share your insights with your peers in a group discussion.
Participate in a workshop where you explore the concept of interconnectedness through interactive activities. Engage in exercises that illustrate how individual actions impact the larger community and environment. Discuss how these activities change your perception of your role in the universe.
Join a guided meditation session focused on embracing duality and compassion. Practice mindfulness techniques that help you balance the heart and mind, fostering a sense of unity with the universe. Reflect on how these practices influence your daily life and interactions with others.
Create a piece of art, music, or writing that expresses your understanding of the paradox of perfection and true compassion. Use this project to explore how you can integrate both human empathy and a broader perspective of the universe. Present your work to the class and explain your creative process.
Engage in a debate on the topic: “Is suffering necessary for spiritual growth?” Use arguments from the article and your own research to support your position. This activity will help you critically analyze different perspectives and deepen your understanding of the journey of awakening.
Here’s a sanitized version of the provided transcript:
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One of the things that has changed in me is that I have begun to fall in love with the universe, and it’s hard to talk about that. Let me read to you two poems. This first one is by a Buddhist monk named Thich Nhat Hanh.
I am a frog swimming happily in the clear water of a pond. I am also the grass snake who, approaching in silence, feeds itself on the frog. I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones, my legs as thin as bamboo sticks. I am also the merchant of arms selling deadly weapons to Uganda. I am the 12-year-old girl refugee in a small boat who throws herself into the ocean after being harmed by a sea pirate. I am also the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and loving. My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all walks of life. My pain is like a river of tears, so full it fills up all the four oceans. Please call me by my correct names so that I can hear at the same time all my cries and my laughs, so that I can see that my joy and pain are but one. Please call me by my correct names so that I can become awake, so the door of my heart be left open, the door of compassion.
All my names, the quality of love has no boundaries. There’s no other in love; there is us. At one level, and at a deeper level, there is only I. We are merged in love. Call me by my true names.
The other quote is still in dualism, but it’s on the edge. It’s a quote from the poet Kabir: Since the day when I met with my lord, there has been no end to the sport of our love. I see with eyes open and smile and behold his beauty everywhere. I utter his name, and whatever I see reminds me of him. Whatever I do becomes his worship. Wherever I go, I remove around him; all I achieve is his service. When I lie down, I lie prostrate at his feet. Whether I rise or sit down, I can never forget him, for the rhythm of his music beats in my ears.
Now, in the states of awareness where you see there is one, there are no boundaries, there is no separateness. And then, as that one starts to come into form as separate, you look at these separate forms it has taken with a quality of awe and wonder. When you’re looking from the point between what’s called the form and the formless, right at the edge, and you look down at form or out at form or upward at form, you see the absolute beauty of form. You see, as Plato talks about it, the law. The law that you appreciate as what you call God oftentimes is just all form in law; it’s all lawfully related.
It’s called the Dao in Chinese, the way of things. It’s the way in which all forms are related to all other forms. And you look and you see it’s perfect. You can look in physics or chemistry or astronomy or psychology or music, and wherever you look, you begin to see that forms are related to all other forms in lawful ways.
It gets interesting when you get down to quarks and things like that, but everything above that looks pretty wrong. And there is an interesting term when you look at the way in which those things are all lawfully related; you say it’s perfect. My guru in India used to say to me, “Ram Dass, don’t you see it’s all perfect?” I’d say, “Perfect? What about Bangladesh? What about Africa? What about tyranny? What about violence? What about greed?”
“Don’t you see it’s all perfect? Can’t you step back for a moment from your humanity to see the way of things? Can’t you see the way it’s all lawfully unfolding?” The question is, do you have the courage to see what you’re seeing, or does it seem to take away your humanity? Because when you look and you say it’s all perfect, the problem is it’s so impersonal.
Somebody falls down in front of you, and you say, “Karma.” There’s no warmth to it. But if you come down into your human heart, the pain is unbearable because there is so much suffering everywhere. You look and there’s so much injustice, and the question is, where does your heart go first?
What most people do is they close their heart down and armor it to protect it from the immense amount of suffering. They armor it with their mind, with thoughts, with a web or a net or a veil of thought that protects the heart so that they don’t get hurt and overwhelmed by the immensity of the suffering.
The heart has no boundaries. My heart goes out to you is the expression; the heart will give. The heart doesn’t know boundaries. The mind knows the boundaries. The heart says, “Here, take my automobile, take my apartment, take anything.” The mind says, “Now wait a minute, be reasonable.”
There is an interesting dialogue that goes on within us, and this armoring protects not only our hearts from the amount of suffering outside but also protects our separateness from our heart, which would give away our separateness.
So the interesting question is, how do you keep your heart open in health? What does it mean to be in love with the world? What does it mean in action? The answer lies in the statement that there’s nowhere to stand. If you stand only in your humanity, it’s unbearable. If you stand in the area of perfection, it’s impersonal. If you get them both going at once, it is the root of what I understand true compassion to be.
It is something where, unlike Job, who questions God at some point, you do what you do because your human heart hurts, and you want to do what you can to relieve the suffering of the people you love. At the same moment, there’s not a flicker in you as to it is all as it must be.
I work with patients now, and a fellow calls me. He just found he has a serious illness, and all of his plans have now gone awry. His whole life has changed, and he’s frightened. My heart, my human heart, cries with him, and he hears there’s a fellow human heart empathizing with him. At the same moment, there’s another part of me that’s just looking at the universe as it is and saying, “Yes, and this too.”
He has a new curriculum now; this is heavy work for his soul. He’s going to do new work in terms of awakening. Because when you look at individuals from the level of soul or awareness, you see the entire earth plane and all the personality and all the physical things, the death and sickness and illness, you see it all as the curriculum of the soul.
When you look at it from the personality point of view, it’s horrible, and that seems so unfair. Suffering seems so cruel. For you to hear the term “suffering is grace,” not that you would ask for it, but that when it comes your way, you work with it as part of your spiritual journey of awakening.
The only reason anybody suffers is because of the clinging of their mind. Starvation is just a certain set of pangs. The fact that you suffer when you starve is because of the mind’s identification with separateness.
When Ramana Maharshi, the great saint in India, was dying and his devotees were crying, “Bhagwan, don’t leave us, don’t leave us,” he said, “Don’t be silly, where could I go? I’m just dropping my body; it’s no big deal.”
You have that level of awareness, and then the whole meaning of suffering changes. All suffering is showing you where your mind is still clinging. To pull your awareness back from the time-binding nature of mind allows you to be fully here.
Am I happy? Yes, I’m happy. I’m happy because it’s spring. I’m happy because people are having babies that are bringing joy into their lives. I’m happy because flowers are blooming. Am I sad? Yes, I am sad because there is so much inhumanity among humans to each other and to other species.
I’m sad because there’s so much fear in this moment. I am both happy and sad. As long as you try to stay in the world of polarities—happy, sad, dark, light, positive, negative, good, evil—you cannot experience the richness of the moment. The richness of the moment lies just behind the two.
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This version maintains the essence of the original transcript while removing sensitive or explicit content.
Universe – The totality of known or supposed objects and phenomena throughout space; the cosmos; macrocosm. – In philosophical discourse, the universe is often contemplated as a vast, interconnected entity that challenges our understanding of existence and reality.
Compassion – A deep awareness of and sympathy for another’s suffering, often accompanied by a desire to alleviate it. – In literature, compassion is frequently depicted as a transformative force that bridges the gap between individuals, fostering a deeper understanding of the human condition.
Interconnectedness – The state of being connected with each other, often used to describe the complex interrelations within systems or among individuals. – The theme of interconnectedness is prevalent in philosophical texts, emphasizing how individual actions can have far-reaching impacts on the broader tapestry of life.
Duality – The quality or condition of being dual; an instance of opposition or contrast between two concepts or two aspects of something. – Many philosophical works explore the duality of human nature, examining the tension between reason and emotion, or good and evil.
Perfection – The condition, state, or quality of being free from all flaws or defects; the highest degree of proficiency, skill, or excellence. – In philosophical debates, the concept of perfection is often scrutinized, questioning whether it is an attainable ideal or an abstract construct.
Empathy – The ability to understand and share the feelings of another, often considered a crucial element in moral philosophy and ethical behavior. – Empathy is a recurring theme in literature, where characters’ ability to empathize with others often leads to personal growth and moral insight.
Awareness – The state or condition of being conscious of something, often used in philosophical contexts to discuss self-awareness and the nature of consciousness. – Philosophers have long debated the role of awareness in shaping human experience and understanding the self.
Humanity – The quality of being humane; kindness; benevolence, often explored in philosophical and literary contexts as the essence of what it means to be human. – Literature frequently examines the concept of humanity, questioning the moral and ethical responsibilities that come with it.
Suffering – The state of undergoing pain, distress, or hardship, often a central theme in philosophical discussions about the human experience. – Many philosophical traditions address the nature of suffering, seeking to understand its causes and how it can be alleviated.
Growth – The process of developing or maturing physically, mentally, or spiritually, often used in philosophical and literary contexts to describe personal development. – In literature, characters’ growth is often depicted through their struggles and triumphs, reflecting the philosophical idea that adversity can lead to greater self-understanding.
