After the Resurrection, the Laundry

After the ritual and awe and magic of Easter Sunday, Easter Monday was most definitely a “laundry day” for me. I woke up wondering, “Is anything really different?” Is transformation really happening?” Is it even possible?”

The skies were partly cloudy on Monday; it wasn’t raining, so I decided to go for a walk. Even though S. Gerry had warned me that it was windy, I had no idea how bitterly cold and forceful the wind would actually be. After only a few steps, my body was uncomfortably cold, my walking poles hurt my hands, my shoulders ached, and nothing felt right as I tried to push through the tundra. After less than a mile, I gave up. The hell with this!

So much for transformation, enlightenment, renewed vision and new life.

Jack Kornfield, in his book, “After the Ecstasy, the Laundry: How the Heart Grows Wise on the Spiritual Path”, writes:

Times of profound peace and newfound love are often overtaken by periods of loss, by closing up, fear, or the discovery of betrayal, only to be followed again by equanimity or joy. In mysterious ways the heart reveals itself to be like a flower that opens and closes. This is our nature.

The only surprising thing is how unexpected this truth can be. It is as if deep down we all hope that some experience, some great realization, enough years of dedicated practice, might finally lift us beyond the touch of life, beyond the mundane struggles of the world. We cling to some hope that in spiritual life we can rise above the wounds of our human pain, never to have to suffer them again. We expect some experience to last. But permanence is not true freedom, not the sure heart's release.

Every wise voyager learns that we cannot hold on to the last port of call, no matter how beautiful. To do so would be like holding our breath, creating a prison from our past. As one Zen master puts it:

"Enlightenment is only the beginning, is only a step of the journey. You can't cling to that as a new identity or you're in immediate trouble. You have to get back down into the messy business of life, to engage with life for years afterward. Only then can you integrate what you have learned. Only then can you learn perfect trust."

What now? What next?