the art of quiet service, part 2

a place to be

In the first post of this series on quiet service, I substituted the word yoga with the art of fine living. Let’s say, it’s that practice of illuminating harmony in the world as it is.

This requires our effort to 1) securely be in the world, so we can 2) pay attention, and 3) imagine new possibilities that inspire us to 4) forgive the old ones.

I like this change-up because it honors the shifting winds of every life practitioner. We breathe and change; we breathe and the world changes. Securely being in the world doesn’t mean a secure world. We learn how to be so we can see and contribute to the persistent transformation.

Imagine yourself on the river of life; we’re riding the current toward the ocean together. Our comfort or discomfort in that flow makes waves. Some of us resist. We become tense and rigid; we sink. When we’re kicking and screaming, the water is rough— for us and all. When we know how to float, we have the buoyancy to be thoughtful about our ripples and careful of our wake. That buoyancy is a precious resource we all share… but it takes practice to find it and use it.

I hear a lot from folks these days… ‘these are tough times.’

Indeed.

And, I don’t know.

Tough times, like beautiful times, are in the domain of the timekeeper. Stories of tough times are the stuff of inspiration— as tales of completion, liberation, conquest— but these are stories told in restrospect. First, we navigate our way though the challenge. Later, with new perspective, we tell the story.

Maybe life wants us to learn how to be timeless. Every suffering contains the seeds of our wisdom. What if we observe the seed’s story through its unfolding? Learn as we travel? Appreciate growth as a guide?

For this, we need to float. We need to find our place to be. From there, we can pay attention. For me, I find my place by saying thank you. Even in the storm, thank you. I see the storm. I imagine the wildflowers to follow.

I’m blessed to live in a time when I can trust in access to water, food, an indoor toilet, and a car. I know how to read and write. I have decent liberty.

My privilege shows, for sure. I’m grateful for it. Just about every one I know shares the same privilege. We are, as Warren Buffet would say, lottery winners purely by chance of birth in this time and stage of civilization.

Still, this stage isn’t to everyone’s benefit. About one in ten people globally don’t have access to clean water. That’s a big number. Likewise, around 8.5 percent of the world population live on less than two bucks a day while the wealthiest TEN earthlings made $810 billion in the 20 months between March 2020 and November 2021. Cut me some slack on my math but 810 billion divided by 10 people and 20 months and 30 days works out to $135,000,000 per day, per person. That’s 67 million times the daily earnings of about 700 million people. More inconceivably big numbers.

Numbers like this have a tendency to unsettle us; we may feel moral outrage, disgust, despair, or envy. They certainly call us to action but what kind of action do we take when we feel so unsettled? When we’re kicking and screaming in the water, we’re understandably concerned with survival. When we’re making big waves, we certainly don’t see clearly.

So, let’s establish our some calm. Let’s soften and float. Actions taken in outrage, disgust, despair and envy are unsteady. If every move we make is one of service— the current, the eddy, the ripple we send onto the river of life— let’s offer our quiet service. Let’s settle ourselves until we realize life’s artful harmony.

First, we want to see clearly what’s available to be seen. Ninety percent of us do have clean water. That’s a wonder. And thanks to people who help. And while the high earners certainly eclipse the majority of us in spending power, still, more than 60 percent of the world’s population has risen out of financial poverty and vulnerability. Again, people helping each other. So while there is work to be done, a strategy that neglects what’s good creates treacherous waves.

Why?

Because language guides what the mind perceives. And so does the direction of our gaze. Sound and vision give our world form. If we choose to think and see only what worries us, we won’t see the ways we may contribute to the challenges OR some mitigation of them.

What if we establish our buoyancy to support a view toward the following:

We’re all in the current together. We’re here for each other in the river of life.

Also, our outrage, disgust, despair at the suffering of living creatures reminds us that we feel one another deeply. Our envy shows us our admiration. We’re connected, concerned, and encouraged in company with each another, despite the arguments we may have with political and ideological agenda. Opinions keep us apart; our awareness of mutual support is our reunion.

Personally, I’m convinced the miracle of life is that we share it. We’re a complexity of connection, interdependence, and love. Honoring the miracle is learning to serve one another authentically, without expectation, resentment, or fear.

Of course, fear gets us first. For this, we learn to float. This requires an honest assessment of our sinkers and floaters. We all have them— memories, events, people who bring us down and others who lift us right up. We need to explore who we are and how we came to be. What beautiful parts of us tremble? What beautiful parts of us are rigid? We want to know our respect for ourselves, our determination to learn, our willingness to be open. We want to know how we’ve saved our own lives and acknowledge every player who’s helped us.

Start with a pause, please. Feel your body. Take your breath. Look around. You’ve already moved from struggling to buoyancy, from buoyancy toward ease.

Now, discover the blessings that give you steadiness. It may be the floor of your home. It may be the support of your family. What about the dog who loves you? The food in the fridge? The neighbor who waves? Look at your shoes, your socks, your education, your awareness. Your life is an abundant gift; it’s your place to be in this world.

Start here. No need to go further. Just spend a week or two reflecting every morning on your place to be. Just float a bit.

We don’t know what comes next but we ride the current. And when the high waters comes, well, pause, float, and when we’re ready, we reach our hands in the best ways to those who need them.

We share our blessings.

We become a blessing.

Here’s a poem. May it lift you up.

If you’d like a hand to learn more about pausing, floating, living or serving, please reach out. Together, we can build personal practices to uplift you in the current as you discover all you’re meant to offer.

I love you, my friend. Thank you for reading.