Book Introduction to Celebrating Divine Presence: Journeys into God by C Weichberger Laurent et al. by Companion Books.
This book came to me at a time when I was going through a life transition: I had just become a parent.
Ten years ago, when I was a biochemistry graduate student, I did”timed” experiments in the laboratory. I was supposed to add chemicals to cells in petri dishes every two hours and observe how the chemicals affected cell growth over time. I would often miss one or two time-points because I couldn’t wake up in time, even when I slept overnight at the lab. In the early months as a new mother, I woke up every two hours to feed my baby, a feat that I am relieved that I was able to accomplish. I have “adaptation scars”, however: a gash on my ankle when I tripped over myself in the pitch black of night and cut my right ankle with my left toenail, a cut on my finger in a moment of fatigue when I pushed my fingers against the inside metal edge of the formula container, a welt on my scalp where I pushed the hairpins too hard too quickly in my hurry to tie back my hair to see what I was doing at 2am.
Those of you who have parented a newborn will understand why I saw”getting through each day” as a meditation in itself. Every day was different, unpredictable, full of highs and lows, with the promise to do it all again the next day.
Yet what caught me off-guard was not the sleep deprivation or blurred boundaries between night and day. What blindsided me was the revelation of how much I had equated myself with external qualifiers and the roles I had played. I defined myself by the goals I achieved, money I made, and how well I performed as a career professional and entrepreneur. In making a conscious decision to become a stay-at-home mom for at least my son’s first year of life, I was ill prepared for the ego pathologies that would emerge.
This switch of gears from “performance to participation” led me to ask the question, “Who Am I?”
I had asked this question before, but now more was at stake. My son may ask me this question one day.
When I first received this book, I thought I was going to learn about different religions and faith traditions. What I did not expect was an invitation to the intensely personal journey of the struggle and desire for truth.
As I read each personal account of a faith tradition, I saw a reflection of my thoughts and feelings in the thoughts and feelings of my fellow travelers. You learn about the basic tenets of each faith. You may form an idea of the similarities and differences between faiths, and, like me, you may gain insight into the origin of faith-based conflict. But I am most grateful for the companionship each contributing author offers for what is a solitary journey to the Self. Each explores in his or her own unique way the question, “Who Am I?”, through a personal journey to The Divine, and ultimately a return to the Self.
There is no shortage of commercially available packages for enlightenment and spiritual prescription. Workshops and seminars abound, each claiming to be a solution that I may be seeking. In the past, I had been quick to discard and discount what I considered “a spiritual fad”. Given today’s ease of connecting through technology, viral marketing has left its mark on spiritual programs. Gurus partnered with talk show hosts. Celebrities lend leverage to spiritual products and services. In Karl Moeller’s account of the Sufi tradition, where our spiritual journey is not only about rules or guidelines, I considered the possibility that all solutions may be potentially valid solutions for someone, somewhere, at some time in the course of their life. The idea that there is “no single recipe for enlightenment” made sense to me. What does not work for me may help another, as our journeys converge. I embraced the idea that popularizing spiritual exploration engages those who may otherwise not give this subject a second glance.
Having spent decades in school, I came to see knowledge as critical; after all, “knowledge is power”. If I acquired more knowledge, wouldn’t this get me closer to the truth I sought? As I read Thomas M. Knoles’ explanation of Vedanta, I understood that information is not the end, but a means. Knowledge in itself is not power without the Knower, because knowledge is a scaffold that we build from or a ledge we can spring forth to increased understanding. The journey is about merging into something bigger. The aim is not to expand the “known”, but instead, to expand the “Knower”. Only then can I shift from desiring to experience inspiration to becoming inspiration.
This book also came to me at a time when I began questioning the role of spiritual teachers, philosophers, and gurus. I was puzzled by popular philosophers who espoused evolution of consciousness yet exhibited behaviors that appeared to fly in the face of what they preached. Therefore, reading Kelly William McCabe’s vivacious description of Hinduism gave me relief and excitement. I was relieved as I read the words that confirmed my suspicion that the true spiritual teachers in this world are not those who have the gift of spiritual gab, but people whose manifestation of light and love are visible without clever marketing. Many of these people are not charismatic spiritual celebrities and don’t have sophisticated websites, yet the way they conduct themselves through their lives and in relationship with other human beings are exemplary of goodness and truth.
When I came to this line by McCabe: “I remember reading {about} some young famous western philosopher… and finding out what a mess he had made of his life and thinking ‘why in the world would anybody pay attention to the ideas – however intellectually brilliant they may be – of someone who was so obviously screwed up?’ I wrote in the margins,”YES! YES! I want to shake {McCabe’s} hand for saying this!” Common sense has become a rarity in books dealing with spiritual topics. What I had found in these words is an affirmation that a spiritual “system” is relevant to me if it helps me get closer to my journey home. Philosophical eloquence may satiate my intellectual mind temporarily, but words do not get me closer to my authentic self. Words that come from those who work by double standards are like a person with bad credit trying to tell me I have poor financial sense.
If you are considering a spiritual path and reading this book to decide “which one,” what I have learned from these authors is simply”start”. Any beginning is a worthwhile beginning to your journey. Through your intention of searching, you may discover as I have discovered, that in the process of aiming for your destination, the beauty of your path unfolds in magical ways. Sacredness is not in the show of miracles, but in the subtle beauty of ordinary lives, including your own. You only have to connect with the gifts that come your way every day, pay attention when a gift shows up, and say “Yes” to invitations that resonate with you. I said “Yes” to the commitment of spending one year to doing only what I love to do. This led me to say “Yes” to an online Friend Request from Laurent Weichberger, which led me to say “Yes” to many profound conversations with him, to this point of saying “Yes” to sharing my thoughts with you here. Lopon Tsultim Wangmo said “Yes” to an invitation on a postcard that was mistakenly delivered to her. This led her to say “Yes” to hours of chanting in a foreign language she did not understand, which led her to the Buddhist path. Will you say “Yes” to an invitation to your personal journey’s magical unfolding?
“That I Am” is at once the path and the destination in this personal journey into The Divine, but until I read this book, I had forgotten that the key word here is “personal”. The single most critical variable we get to work with – that we CAN work with – in this lifetime, is ourselves.
In closing, if I may suggest an approach to reading this book, I would recommend that you allow Laurent Weichberger’s chapter on Listening be your guide. Many of us listen for the sake of grabbing the baton and speaking our views. I know I am often guilty of letting my mind chatter ceaselessly instead of purely listening to the speaker. Laurent takes the art of listening one step further and reminds us to be aware of listening only for our own experiences for the purpose of turning the conversation to ourselves. Laurent’s chapter asks that we focus on the speaker even as we are unsure where the speaker is taking us. Is this embrace in the unknown, to follow without constantly wanting to lead, the very act of Faith?
In Gratitude,
Jane Chin, Ph.D.
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