Now Here!

`Well, we know where we’re goin‘
But we don’t know where we’ve been
And we know what we’re knowin‘
But we can’t say what we’ve seen

And we’re not little children
And we know what we want
And the future is certain
Give us time to work it out…´
Talking Heads, `Road To Nowhere´

At some point over the years, one particular habit began to evolve. I use it to gather myself in a world full of drama and distractions and to consciously connect with ultimate reality, the Source. It has become part of my daily routine, practiced usually during my morning walk along the great river.

On reaching the water, I turn towards the east and begin the process of greeting the five directions  –  those four with which we are all familiar, plus the vertical –  as follows;

Facing east, bowing while silently reciting; `East –  Air; every breath a new beginning…´

Turning ninety degrees, facing south, bowing once again, saying; ` South –  Fire; new ways of doing things, new things to do…´

Moving on, now facing west, continuing with; `West – Water; emotion, motion, ocean, om…´

Then, turning once more, the north is greeted as follows; `North –  Earth; spaciousness, solitude, sustenance, splendour; The ground beneath my feet…´

Rounding things out by turning east once more, the initial greeting is repeated. As such, this segment of the ritual is like the octave in music, containing the same note at each end.

Then, consciously taking a few breaths, I embrace the vertical, from the centre point of our beautiful planet, up through my body, on out to the infinite space above and beyond. Finally, twirling clockwise, I recommence my walk, feeling refreshed and grounded in the dimensions of space and time.

Where does this ritual come from? It has its roots in the Medicine Wheel of the Native American tradition. The spiritual path of this ancient culture is known as `Walking The Red Road´. Being a road, with no mention of any particular destination, the implication is that it represents the manifestation and cultivation of a way of life; a way of clearly seeing and being in the world. As in many other cultures, this path takes us through various stages of consciousness – root, individuation, family, tribe, village, nation, species, infinite creation – to the point where we realise that all is one, or at least `not two´. It is the realisation that all is connected and that that which I do onto another, I do onto myself.  

As a member of a large family, my formative years were spent in what I experienced as chaos. Thankfully, it was punctuated by ritual; the rituals of my family, the church, school and among my peers. The way my Dad would go through the house each morning, waking each of his ten children individually in a warm, kindly fashion with his own little prayer of devotion to his Great Spirit; `…I give you this day, my soul, and my body, my work, and my play.´

The ritual of my mother being served her breakfast in bed each morning, the contents of the tray always identical – half a fresh grapefruit with a layer of crystalised sugar atop, freshly-baked brown bread with butter and home-made marmalade and a little pot of strong black tea. A rare instance of her quietly reaping what she had sown, since she was the one who baked the bread every day and oversaw the making of the marmalade – another ritual – each winter.

Further examples include cleaning the hearths, setting and lighting the open fires in our home every single day, winter and summer, or, in my capacity as an alter boy, lighting the candles on the alter before mass in the local Jesuit church, around which our school was built, and extinguishing them afterwards, the church then empty. The first cast of a tiny fly on the favourite pool, having arrived at our holiday house in the wild West of Ireland for the annual summer break. Pints in the pub in my later teens or the passing of the chillum among fellows in clandestine settings…..

Those rituals provided a framework which helped me navigate and make sense of the chaos of life, one day at a time. They helped my return to a sense of self on many occasions where I felt somehow lost, on the road to nowhere.

Fast-forwarding to the present, it is clear to me that my current rituals fulfil the same role. My first conscious act upon awakening is a prayer addressed to my Creator asking Her `to direct my thinking, especially that it be divorced from self-pity, dishonest or self-seeking motives´.

The power of this little prayer is two-fold; the initial contact each day is with the Great Spirit and it helps me to consciously step back and become the witness of my own thinking before the clamours of the day begin to demand attention. Other rituals follow. The morning ablutions, the making of tea and lighting of candles before a period of time sitting in silence. So the day begins to unfold.

Returning to the greeting of the directions, just how do such rituals evolve without specific intent and nonetheless make deep sense?

I am intuitively drawn to go out over the fields to greet the rising sun, and often do so. This awe-inspiring event, which has occurred each day, without exception, for millions of years and will continue for several billion more until the fuel of our sun is burned up, fills me with wonder. It gives me a fabulous sense of perspective into which life and existence can be placed, in the realisation that today, indeed every day `is a new beginning.´ This bears so much forgiveness and promise.

Next south; I have been to the equator, have felt and enjoyed the heat of the tropical sun. The Creator must have a great sense of humour, having a sun worshipper like me grow up in a place like Ireland, starved of heat and direct sunlight! I salute the sun and remind my self that it is always possible do familiar things differently and to open myself to the new, by remaining consciously engaged in a life which only appears to be made up of so much repetition.

Towards the west, I look over the great expanse of water, a different river each new day. We men seem to have greater difficulties getting in touch with our feelings than our women friends. In my endeavours to get into contact with all of my being, I have discovered the importance of movement (motion) in learning to navigate the ocean of emotions within. Running, dancing, walking, cycling – anything that gets and keeps me moving in a meditative state. This greetings ends with the mantra of contemplation of ultimate reality, Om.

North is the direction of winter for us here in Europe, bringing to mind the vast spaciousness of the planet. The humdrum of my daily living is made more manageable by regular interludes of solitude, some brief, some longer, throughout the day. I remember Osho’s suggestion that we replace the term `loneliness´ with `spaciousness’ and see how that then resonates with us. I feel into the soles of my feet and realise that I am standing on, and am a part of Mother Earth, whereto my bones will one day return, and am reminded of the bountiful harvests she brings forth, year after year, generation after generation.

Focussed and gathered, feeling the Presence in my whereabouts,`now here´, is the best place to begin today’s journey, today.