One of the great miracles of humankind is our ability to Do. We do things like turn yeast and water and wheat into breads, cakes, and pies; we build bridges and tall buildings; we take photographs, write books, make business appointments and return emails. Often, however, we become so enamored with our ability to Do that we forget how to Be.
This summer my nephew has come to visit me in France for several weeks. I have busily called, booked, reserved, planned, Google-mapped and Trip-Advisored our nearly every second to make sure he sees every castle, seaside, mountain, museum, and fortress available. “It is possible to hike to all four ruins in one day for the physically adept” the guidebook promised, so I shoe-horned that in, too, wondering only briefly what ‘physically adept’ means. And one evening, in the midst of waiting for a horse-back riding outfit to answer their phone, I happened to look up from my computer and out the window and I was startled at the shocking gold light that was cast over the garden by a sinking sun that had slipped behind the lone little cloud in the sky. It wasn’t pink, or fuchsia, purple or orange – the light was golden. I got it. I hung up the phone and walked out to breathe, experience, to Be. And I stopped planning our summer to make sure we had plenty of time to BE together.
Abraham Joshua Heschel, a great Jewish writer and thinker, is famous for having showed up late to a speech and, facing an expectant audience, said “I saw a miracle. I saw a sunset.” As my Rabbi told the story he dropped the business of his business and realized sunsets are his business.
Sitting at the top of the summer we are entering a season made for learning how to Be. Life slows down, schools let out, and stores close for vacation. What we do with this opportunity is up to us. It often requires concerted effort to turn away from the habitual paces of doing to turn into being. It’s a challenge I believe worthy of taking up.
All teachings need time to integrate themselves within our core. All the experiencing of our year needs time for us to knit it together into something of our own, not just sidewalks we skim across as we move to the next thing. When we take away the curtain of doing we finally focus our eyes to the backstage where all the miracles of our being are taking place. Where they have been taking place all along. The golden light in the garden of my gloaming was present as backdrop during my frenzy of Googling – I could have kept on going and missed it completely. All, and ALL, what was necessary was for me to turn my focus to it. To see it; to experience it; to be – to be part of an ongoing miracle.
Miracles are ever-present. When we drop into be-ing we become present to them. Do we dare to stop our Facebooking, guide-booking, restaurant booking? Do we dare to set down our phones, our schedules, our lists? Do we dare to be?
It’s summer. I’ll BE in my garden with my nephew…