Rebirth

Spring officially began last weekend.  I delight in seeing my spring bulbs stick their bright green sprouts through the soil in search of the sun promised by longer days. The trees in the national park behind my apartment are generously showing their own bright green with a few almost leafed out. Here in Washington blooming trees, including the famous Japanese cherry blossoms which are in peak bloom this very day, abound.  How fortunate I feel to be able to work from work to the Metro every day by this display that others travel from all over the world to experience.

While there are things that I love about each of the four seasons, spring holds promise.  Whatever magical process that has been occurring in the ground during the dark months now moves boldly into the next stage of life's cycle.

We should not be surprised at this time of natural inspiration that many religions mark holidays, such as Easter and Passover, when we gather with friends and family to eat and drink and be joyous after having gone through a period of darkness, threat, and even death or imminent death. Even the Easter Bunny grew out of a pagan celebration of fertility, and Easter eggs are associated with what will be born, indicating that such spring celebrations have long been with us.

I have been called a heretic, so this is a spoiler alert that if you don't want anyone messing with your literal reading of the Easter story, this is a good time to hit the little "X" in the corner and come back another day.

My spiritual roots developed in the Christian tradition, so I observe Easter this weekend.  Although Christianity formed my basic spiritual concepts, I have found learning and guidance in many religious traditions, and now I look at my own stories with a more universal lens of myth and metaphor than with a literal one.

Looking at it in that way, the story of Jesus' death, three days' burial, and his resurrection from the dead mean that it is time for me to sort through my life, find what needs to die, and then commit to how I want to be reborn for the year ahead. The season of Lent, the 40 days before Easter, intends to be a time of coming close to God in contemplation, fasting, deprivation of things that separate us from God, and prayer and meditation.  At this time, we take a hard look at what we have been and what we want to be, and then we determine what new behaviors we want for the future to carry us toward the life we intentionally create.

I believe (more heresy coming) that God is not an anthropomorphic old man with a beard but is instead a force of Love and Good...of caring...that connects all of us. Jesus has been called the great teacher about Love.  Even as he was being tortured in death, he did not anger. I believe his role in the evolution of the world was not to give birth to a religion but instead was to demonstrate what miracles all of us can make happen if we act totally in Love.  Being Love as a noun, something that we are, rather than "love" as a verb, something that we do...or don't do.

The Easter lesson forces me say to myself, "What behaviors, habits, attitudes, or values stand in the way of me being Love?" Those are the things this holiday tells me to put to death, so that I can be reborn in this season of newness as a force for what is good in the world. My work is to be that day in and day out.

Years ago I recall hearing someone reflect on the shadow nature of all of us.  The source is forgotten, but I remember hearing that in all of us, even the worst of us, there is a Mother Teresa who is kind, loving and compassionate. And in all of us, even the best of us, there is an ax murderer, who is driven by hate, fear, and anger and is capable of unmentionable evil.  Our job is to choose who we will be.

That is the work of rebirth: taking a hard look at any speck within us that is driven by anything other than Love and plucking it out.  Then consciously choosing how we become Love in the world.

Rebirth

Last Wednesday marked the beginning of Lent--the 40 days prior to Easter--for Christians. Observers give up substances, foods, or activities that separate them from God.  They also spend time in reflection and sacred study.  The idea is to examine our lives--to learn what it means for each of us to be more Godlike, arriving at the holiest of Christian holidays ready to metaphorically start our lives anew.

Sadly, many miss the purpose.  "I'll give up smoking for Lent."

"I didn't know you smoked."

"Oh, I don't, so it will be easy to give up."

Lent isn't supposed to be easy.  It is supposed to be an annual reset, moving us to our higher selves. While Lent is a Christian practice, it is not unique.  Jews mark Passover, which commemorates their escape from bondage in Egypt to return to freedom in God's promised land for them.  Lent mirrors as we escape our bondage to bad habits in order to find our way to God's promise for us.

Although each is unique to its culture, the practice of marking the seasonal spring with observance of human rebirth is millennia old.  Some may say that Lent isn't a lot different than marking the New Year and New Year's Resolutions, but to me it contrasts starkly, not the least of which is that many New Year's Resolutions are forgotten within the day.  In Lent I am pledged to practice for 40 days.

"Practice" is the appropriate word.  "Discipline" might be another, signifying that we are disciples or students.  Lent is also marked by the personal reflection, which for me is a bit like peeling an onion. Each day I, the student, explore a different layer.

For many years, I have given up sugar for Lent.  I am seriously addicted, and nothing distracts me more from my God-self than sugar.  Giving up sugar (and consequently alcohol) is a no-brainer for me.  Each year for a few days, I experience cravings and even shakes as I give up sugar, but by now, five days into Lent, I am feeling the freedom of having it out of my system.

A couple days ago I actually began to crave exercise instead, and yesterday I ventured out in the cold and snow for a long walk.  I loved it.  My body loved it more.  This morning I walked again, although I did so indoors to avoid the treacherous sleet-encrusted sidewalks of Washington. After a lunch that reflected my healthier eating habits, I actually sat and read.   Then I wanted to meditate, which brought me to writing today.  As if each good habit naturally led to consciousness of yet another and another.

My meditation did more than return me to my computer to write.  I found myself questioning what I spend time on and the level of stress I experience from trying to keep so many balls in the air.  I actually laughed when I thought of forgetting to bring an activity sheet to a presentation I gave on Thursday.  Although I expect I will be harshly judged for this oversight, it wasn't the end of the world, and we were able to complete the activity in another way.  By contrast, letting exercise drop off my schedule for much of the week has had significant long- and short-term consequences.

I'd like to think that I will arrive at Easter pledged to really have learned and practiced my more conscious way of living so that I really will have a rebirth.  History indicates that will not be the case. I've actually continued without sugar until my birthday in May one year and all the way until Christmas another, but there is always a piece of chocolate tantalizing me.

But, what if this year, I actually did allow myself to live my truth?  Would staying off of sugar be like the domino that didn't fall and knock the others down? Would I keep exercising and meditating? Would I write this blog more regularly again? Would I be more like God envisions my potential?

That truly would be the potential of rebirth.