LIFE AS A COLLECTION OF MOMENTS
Life is a collection of moments. More precisely, life as a collection of what we deem as “defining” moments is what largely shapes and guides our life. The requirement for stewarding such moments is that we pay close attention as moments happen and remember them after they happen. It is simple enough but onerous to learn. Poet David Whyte expresses this sentiment poignantly in the last stanza of his poem, Born Again. Tangentially, one can easily see the “Irishness” of his appreciation of nature.
I want to be born again, in exactly the selfsame life,
aware this time from the inside out, and to stand this time
as a beautiful un-worrying witness, living beyond
the need for this or that; some memory always with me
of a ship making its way through lifting water,
the song of the wind, the song of my mother,
my father’s disbelieving, expectant face,
and the crowding, merciful voice of the sea at my birth.
I italicized the word aware above as Whyte yearns to recall some of his life’s defining moments. I can sense both his gentle ache and longing that he had wished to cherish the moments (my word) closer to his heart and with more awareness.
We are who we are because of the accumulative effect of life’s defining moments. Some moments are defined by external circumstances and factors that we have no control over. Freak accidents, natural disasters, acts of violence, cowardice, as well as great generosity, the miracle of intervention, and helping hands, are bigger than anyone’s life’s external realities. Then there are those that are seemingly insignificant, even obscure, too small to notice at first, i.e. witnessing small acts of kindness, meeting kind eyes from a stranger, reading unexpected text messages, catching a smile of a little child, noticing “lilies of the field and the birds of the air,” cool drizzle on a hot humid day, etc. Those moments happen and we can be impacted by the external realities at the time if we will.
Then there are moments that we work to create and arrive at. These are the moments that are induced by our effort and planning. Working hard to graduate, get a job, write a book, etc are just a few examples.
However, moments that have shaped my life most profoundly are the moments prompted by interior assurances and convictions. The interior convictions are mysterious divine visitations that come like gentle fleeting butterflies or cool breezy wind of inaudible soft-spoken words. They have never been thunderous words, overwhelming and ignoring whatever state I happen to be in. If I believe the words, they are mine to possess. If I am ignorant or am distracted, it simply flies away and looks for another opportunity, never judging or condemning. If I believe, it becomes yet another moment to believe again. To believe is to trust the Source and the Source’s intention of goodness. This act of belief goes on a long way to ground me and move my pilgrim body toward the Source’s Home with increased willingness and eagerness.
These encounters are mysterious and subjectively experienced. And the two go together, making the relationship between mystery and experience inseparable.
When I decided to step down from leadership in 2019, I “heard” an inaudible voice that said, “Son, you have no idea how good this decision is” on January 1. Though the voice was faint, it was undeniably clear, and I “believed” the moment as it happened. A few months later, Psalm 45: 10-16 was given to us by three random sources (what I would consider as my communities), confirming what we needed to do: to forget and leave our father’s house and our people, essentially “to go to the land which God will show us.” In June, I even had a dream where I saw the Psalm 45:10 inscription. The Tradition tells me all faith heroes are called to go and leave their father’s home. So I am in good company, I tell myself, having confirmed by “community” that is represented through Scripture, Tradition, and communities I am part of.
The interior moment that guides and shapes our life defines or redefines what and how we see. It is a brand new way of seeing, the chrism of the sight. Because we see differently, we can live differently. The old way of seeing is no more with scales from our eyes removed. No wonder Jesus spoke repeatably and convincingly about what and how we see. Spirituality starts with seeing, seeing rightly. The right seeing allows us to navigate the pilgrim movement of the body and life, ever shaping us through life-changing moments and directing us where to go and how to go.