Who we really are at our divine center

“Each of us has a divine name. Mindfulness is the key to unlocking its secret. The term in the Talmud for mindfulness is kavanat lev, ‘the directing of the heart.’ Real mindfulness comes about not by an act of violence against our consciousness, not by force, not by trying to control our consciousness, but rather, by a kind of directed compassion, a softening of our awareness, a loving embrace of our lives, a soft letting be.

What were to happen if we were to look more deeply at the things we don’t like about ourselves instead of beating ourselves up about them? Maybe, just maybe, they would turn out to be strengths and not weaknesses after all. …

What is it about ourselves that we really hate? What is it we would do anything to change? And how is the very thing we hate our divine name? How might it express our purpose in life…? This is the kind of question we might spend our whole lives wrestling with. But if we turn a soft, loving eye on the thing we can’t stand about ourselves and keep it there until the thing we can’t stand falls away, this wrestling will become a loving embrace and our divine name wil emerge in its stead.”

[One God Clapping: The Spiritual Path of a Zen Rabbi, by Alan Lew with Sherril Jaffe, Kodansha Publishing; 1999; pp. 300-301.]

I believe that not too long ago I mentioned in a post about being “a big splash in a small pond.” If I didn’t post it here, then at the very least I know I journaled about it.

There are certain environments where I seem to thrive. One such environment is where my gifts and talents can just shine forth, and be put to good use. It’s great for me, and it’s great for the environment/group/organization with whom I am involved. A win-win situation right? Years ago, I was informed that this was some ego driven need to feel special, more special than others, and not a good thing. So of course, I have tried again and again to overcome this egotistical function of myself.

Even my recent studies with The Tao Te Ching seem to indicate that melting quietly into the background is a good thing. Nothing special, no one special, wu wei (doing through not-doing) are all pretty high on the list for being one who harmonizes with Tao.

And yet, I do have gifts and talents that not everyone has (and they have theirs that I don’t have, as well), and if I ignore these gifts, who then benefits? And what kind of “damage” might I do to myself for being inauthentic?

As an example, I love public speaking. And I am good at it. I can motivate people. I often inspire people. Most people are so afraid of public speaking, but someone needs to do it! I’m also good working with middle-school-aged children in the learning process. And I am talented when it comes to language. And the best part if that I bring a beginner’s mind to it, as well as a huge sense of having fun with it all. My enthusiasm and love for these things are absolutely contagious. When I don’t immerse myself in offering these gifts to the world, I become depressed and withdrawn. My heart aches and yearns for doing that which has brought so much joy into my life as well as those whom I have helped—both kids and adults.

After reading pages 299 through 301 in the above referenced book (those are really the only pages I found worth my time in the entire tome), something began to resonate within me. (A more complete excerpt from these pages can be found here.)

What if being this person who teaches and tutors and chants and speaks and sings is part of my name, my divine center, that for which I am here on this earth to pass along? What if this small piece is the beauty that I bring into the world? And how will the world be diminished in some way if I don’t continue with this great work, to the best of my ability?

That is the question begging an answer from me today, and one which I will continue to give thought to.

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