Presence

Friends,

If the DOGE effort simply “decluttered" the federal government, especially the fraud and waste in Pentagon budget, I might even appreciate it. But my only appreciation at present is that it reminded me of the need to declutter my own life, but in a more civil, rational process. I actually prefer the old Quaker term for clutter: “cumber,” as in "cumbersome,” "an unwelcome,  too weighty presence," as in the Pentagon budget. 

There is nothing wrong in possessing things that define what it means to be “at home” with our keepsake memorabilia and objects that secure our safety, comfort, efficiency, and amusement in our lives. So our households contain our family heirlooms, rooms and closets full of various objects accumulated over the years, and all sorts of other contrivances that provide convenience and entertainment. I love my soft blue recliner, my electric teapot, and obviously my computer and iPhone. And all my books and photos. And my printer, coffee pot, microwave, and exercise machine. And….you get the idea. And then as I age and the reality that sooner than later I will reluctantly have to  pass on as much as possible all these possessions to my often resistant progeny, and then sell or donate all the rest, or - dread the thought - send them to the dumpster. When I think of “disencumbering" myself, my sense of “cumber" does become more “cumbersome” when thinking about its and my eventual fate. So I try not to go there. But then I do occasionally remind myself I need to clean out the unused flotsam and jetsam from the garage and closets before “it’s too late." 

As we accumulate our cache of possessions we realize a pattern of associations. We realize the things that actually mean the  most to us is because they are reminders of cherished memories of adventures, holidays and weddings, joys and sadnesses, associated with past relationships for which we are so grateful. And we understandably resist parting with those prompts of the precious relationships in our lives just as we resist the inevitable partings with our family and friendships.

If accumulation of too many possessions is a problem, another more important concern is that we prevent our possessions from interfering with our ability to be fully present to what ultimately is most meaningful in life. “The world is too much with us; getting and spending we lay waste our powers,” as William Wordsworth expressed it. One of the most important lessons for our spiritual lives is the ability to be present to the life immediately before us. And as I get older I am ever more intrigued and amazed at the fascinating flow of any and all of life that surrounds me at any given moment - nature, people, my cat, the news cycle, beautiful music.. As I sit in the hospital or medical waiting room, for example, I yearn for the opportunity to talk with my fellow patients, not about their illness, but about their lives, what they have seen and done, and what wisdom they think they have gained through it all. And I try to humbly remember to give thanks for just being alive and to be present to it all.

I write about the daily presence of our possessions, relationships and moments of awe and wonder in our lives because it is so easy to be held hostage by the anxiety and perplexity of political turmoil and threatening environmental change that is, indeed “too much with us." The art of living - if that is a viable term - is to be as fully alive and present as much as possible to the world around us. The ultimate goal of a life of presence is to put it all in a context of the awe and wonder of a Spiritual journey of sacred Presence moving in and among us with the love and truth that ultimately gives our lives meaning. The gift of a sacred Presence is indeed the most precious of all the gifts of life.

In peace,
Tom