“Let’s try to figure everything out,” says the brain Yet the sustenance of the journey lies in the joy of the heart The object of life is joy Spontaneous and ever present to the unfoldment of surprises As the brain gauges on the desire the destination with a scalpel the object of desire flees Whilst the heart nurtures what’s truly meant to be revealed
There is a poem that friends of mine introduced me to a year ago. It goes like this…
If you put your nose to the grindstone rough, And keep it down there long enough, You will soon conclude that there are no such things, As a brook that babbles or a bird that sings. These three things will your world compose: Just you, the stone, And your ground-down nose.
Sometimes when we look at something too closely, we do not see things properly. Sometimes when we act on something for too long, doing nothing else, we may forget our intention on the act itself, of why we started doing this thing in the first place, or, worse yet, we may not act with the right pace or fulfil it in the best possible way.
I think our noses can become too close to the grindstone when we are emotionally connected to something, or when we want something so badly- that the act itself makes us succumb to the motions or obsession.
Obsession is not a bad feeling. I think obsession is a derivative of passion. But at what cost when we cannot think, see or act for anything else but that very thing, metaphorically speaking, that very stone, to which we seem to be grinding?
I am an obsessively passionate person myself. I found myself repeating to others that, “I don’t like it when I get too obsessed.” This phrase comes out often when I am working on something I love to do. I find myself gripped with a constant call to come back to the space over and over again in body, in mind and soul, in acts of creation. For example, lately, I found myself become passionately gripped to complete a website design for the company I work in.
Whatever I get into, I cannot help but get gripped by obsession.
And don’t get me wrong, I love this kind of obsession. It gives me a window into my heart of what it is that excites me and what it is that I am willing to put my energy into. As human beings, we have bodies that are here, I believe, to be used- to move, to explore, to connect, to love, and so on…just like the animals that flow with motion everyday in the world in which they belong, we, as humans also belong here. And thus, we will each have something to where our deliberate action will take our noses close to the grindstone.
It may not even be as obvious as our area of work; although for most of us that may be the case. It may be in certain activities or in other areas of our lives such as friendships and relationships, where we are passionately obsessed. It may be tied to a particular issue we are dealing with. It may be to the act of constant partying even! Perhaps a person? You get the gist.
It is not the act itself but you can trace your proximity to your grindstone from the very feeling of being suddenly gripped into a relentless mixture that could only be described as if gods and goddesses of passion and obsession themselves would meet. Heart and body locked in the act of making love constantly; a certain singularity of motion, of rhythm and focus with every second, turning into minutes, hours, days and weeks.
For the passion, there is an orgasmic feeling- a high of some sort. For the obsession, there is a certain kind of stickiness that is addicted to this high- with it comes the need to become constantly bounded.
In this kind of space, with our noses close to the grindstones, we are “productive” in the most modern meaning of the word: we produce a lot.
But we neglect the very ground upon which we stand, the earth that we inhabit, the galaxy upon which we are spinning along to. We neglect the people who live with us on this earth, the countless numbers of living things within this galaxy. And somehow, we also neglect our right to fully belong in this world.
If our passionate obsession is our work and our projects, we forget to see how our work is meeting the world: is it even meeting the world? Are we seeing even the tiniest amount of impact that we are making, or the value that we are giving? If our passionate obsession is a person, we forget their humanness Whether we love them dearly or are angry with them, we forget their humanness, much like ours.
Upon realising our close proximity to the grindstone in front of us, it may seem hard to drop the stone that has been held so tightly. To let it rest. To give it some space for awhile.
If we loosen our grip, fear assumes us as though our very own grip on the stone is what is making it a stone itself. When in fact, we are merely shaping it, moulding it, transforming it with our very own essence, like a magician.
This very grip makes us feel less of a magician however and more like a used up, worn out rag.
To give space to our grindstone is to allow for inspiration to come- for an external source to touch this space we have occupied for so long, we must be brave to put it down, so that we can see the magic again. More often not in the stone itself but in us.
To give space is surrendering towards destiny- towards newness and voice from an unknown source and higher power.
My mother always used to repeat something to my sister and I when we were young. Of course, for us, the passionately obsessive thing was to get good grades in our exams. Perhaps from our own will and theirs, we were gripped to this very thing from which our entire future (back then) seem to depend upon.
And as we studied and prayed to the higher powers and to Buddha, my mother, when she saw us praying several times in the prayer room, would repeat to us, “Remember, it is not just in your own doing. You may pray a lot for this but you will also have to do the work.”
And when the days of our exams came, she would say, “You have done the work, all you can do now is relax, do the exam and the higher powers will be looking out for you.”
Do you see what I am seeing? There was a certain kind of emptiness that we inhabited in between our studying. It was a space filled with a sense of faith and trust that allowed for the goodness to exist in our lives. Our bodies were not merely machines. We surrendered our brains every once in awhile to come into this space of trusting in something outside of our will and our doing and with faith that this something will look out for us.
To give space to our grindstone is to accept the complexities in life and to the very groundlessness and uncertainties that our human life may be subjected to every once in awhile. Everything is in rhythm. There is not just one particular kind of rhythm in life. Melodies come in many forms and different melodies contribute to our life. Sometimes life happens, something unplanned, something unexpected and in these times, we are gently or sometimes very quickly nudged into other things that need our attention. Such occurrences can sometimes be our blessing. And in these times, it may not be so sensible to keep grinding on our stone too closely.
As I have grown, I am still praying- to the higher powers and to the Buddha. But I have also been finding out that walking helps me have space between the grindstone and I. I was introduced to walking when I studied Landscape Architecture in my University. We walked everywhere and these three years of my undergraduate were where I came out of my shell and found a sense of identity, as I walked. And I fell in love with the act of walking endlessly and with nature.
My work and passions these days involve a lot of time spent in front of the computer, on an iPad or being inside. So lately I have not been able to spend a lot of time outside but I have been intentionally using walking as a form of creating space- to help me expand; to help me not think about several things; to see clearly what is in front of me.
Something special happens in the act of walking in silence. We observe- we look around. Things become simplified. A bird is a bird. A tree is a tree. A boat is a boat. And we are human. Our bodies find a place in this world, larger than our comprehension but comprehensible to this immediate environment, we feel both large and small. We feel a sense of belonging. And most importantly, we don’t think too much. Our bodies have the time to rest, to finally sigh loudly and take a full breath of air.
A friend of mine, when I asked her about her peaceful nature, said to me, “It has been an act of practice!” I was surprised. From being with her, I would have said this peace was her second nature! “I deliberately do things that rest my brain. So I’m not constantly thinking,” she explained.
And I think we all need such a space. Even for a brief moment- from the grindstone to which our noses are close to. To hear a brook babbling and to hear the birds singing.
In this moment of deliberate action, of choosing to drop our grindstones momentarily, we make a discovery that may shape it to a higher quality.
We can be passionately obsessive. That is what allows us to express our uniqueness. I love people that are passionate about things in life. In fact, many of the people I look up to and enjoy the company of, are those that have created a binding stickiness to a particular kind of thing that they have nurtured and have come back to- again and again- and have allowed for that thing to grow now in a particular quality that is timeless. A distinctive signature if you will that can only be cultivated by being involved in such a passionate and obsessive act.
Being passionately obsessive also means we find out what commitment feels like, no matter the duration of the time, even for a brief moment. We are not just doing things for the sake of doing things, although that is also important. We act with heart and intention. We use our minds clearly and with direction.
But every once in awhile, I think we all owe it to ourselves to leave some space between us and our grindstones, even just for a split second, to allow moments of clarity and rest. To stop constantly searching to fill the silence with noise, action and thinking.
So that we may come back fully again, into our lives, and gain a view of our grindstones with fresh eyes and new perspectives.
Don’t forget the magic. In that in between space, there is magic.
Contemplations
:
What or who or where is your grindstone?
How can you give space between yourself and your grindstone?
In what form would this space look like?
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