Monday, November 14, 2016

Winter River


             Winter River (Photo by Jonathan Dietz)
This is the Charles River in Boston. It’s a long, winding, beautiful river, 80 miles (129 km) long, especially known for its rowing and sailing. In spring and summer, the sun shines spectacularly on the water, as well as on the many boats, recreational and competitive, and the beautifully landscaped banks. Viewing the scene at that time, you can be transported back to a different time, perhaps from the 1890’s through the beginning of the 20th century. People strolled and sailed, and time itself cooperated, standing still, or so it seemed, giving them of its bounty. For many, it seemed like there would never be a more perfect world.

And then it became winter. This is the Charles River in the winter. It is deeply frozen over, the ice thick enough for people to walk on it, or, more accurately, trudge on it.

The same river, summer and winter, but two different rivers, l’maasehin reality. In one you sail and in one you trudge. Each has its own beauty in its own time. But at no time, summer or winter, does the river stop flowing.

You don’t see it in the winter, but underneath all that ice is the same beautiful river, flowing unceasingly.

What makes us different from this river? Aren’t we living much of the time in winter, walking along the top layer of “ice” that separates us from our own rivers of living water? The ice that acts as a wall between us and the flow of our subconscious, with all its fertile images, rich solutions, dreams, fears to be resolved, unresolved questions and their answers, and the landscape of healing and wholeness embedded there.

Winter has its beauty, sometimes magnificently so, and its own power. But eventually we get tired of trudging along, fighting the elements on the top surface of the underlying profound awareness that is our subconscious. To live all the time, a whole life, in winter, missing out on what may be the most important part of ourselves, is a pity. We want to break through the cold “ice” that separates us from the life we know we could live if only we could access it. 

How?

There are ways to tap the intelligence and awareness that intellect alone cannot access. The first step might be to understand what it means to perceive.

In physical terms, “vision” means “eyesight.” But in the world of deeper individuals, many of them from past generations, and to a certain extent, the world of contemporary vision practitioners, as well as some artists from all generations, vision is understood as perception that extends beyond the currently given. 

There will always be visions and perceptions that are reserved for the ones known as mystics. But that doesn’t mean we normal people can’t have greater access to the world around us and within us than we presently have.

Is an animal a “mystic” because it hears, sees, or senses, beyond our range? Obviously not. What is beyond us is perfectly normal to him. That's simply a physical fact. And we don’t have to be mystics, either, to see beyond our present range.

The eyes were given to us to use. Once we learn how to use them differently, we can find perceptions and insights, solutions and answers, that we never thought possible before. They are usually of a sort that we haven't often experienced, and they come with a subtlety and profundity that astounds us, leaving us with the feeling that we have been given a great gift. And it's ours for the asking, just by asking, "How?"

In our tradition, our history, our seforim (books), and our holy people, there are ways of seeing that are given to all of us and are accessible to us, today. In fact, it may be essential, more than ever, that at this time in history, we access those ways of seeing in order to find solutions to many of the seemingly insolvable situations we face constantly. We see the problems clearly; they are, after all, "in our face." 

They are so clear that we should be able to see through them and see what we need to see -- solutions -- if we will just understand a few things about seeing, and learn to look within our eyes.  

Summer River in Eretz Yisroel