A Thought on Unity, part 2 of 3

Part 1 was basically about the idea of looking at the world in terms of zero to positive infinity, as opposed to negative infinity to positive infinity. Fairly straightforward, and we have the understanding of science to back it up.

This is about seeing the world in all its variety as part of a continuous whole.

For me, it all began with a book by Jane Harper, The Universe Within Us. I've written about it before, but it's still a great book filled with great insights. In the beginning of this book, Jane pointed out a quote from the Master that talks about levels of creation.

"When we consider the mineral, we find that it exists and is possessed of the power of affinity or combination. The vegetable possesses the qualities of the mineral plus the augmentative virtue or power of growth. It is, therefore, evident that the vegetable kingdom is superior to the mineral. The animal kingdom in turn possesses the qualities of the mineral and vegetable plus the five senses of perception whereof the kingdoms below it are lacking. Likewise, the power of memory inherent in the animal does not exist in the lower kingdoms.

Just as the animal is more noble than the vegetable and mineral, so man is superior to the animal. The animal is bereft of ideality -- that is to say, it is a captive of the world of nature and not in touch with that which lies within and beyond nature; it is without spiritual susceptibilities, deprived of the attractions of consciousness, unconscious of the world of God and incapable of deviating from the law of nature."

It goes on, of course, but this is enough to make the point. Needless to say, there are many other areas in which the Master describes reality in this manner.

What is interesting is how this differs from a common scientific view, which is not all that scientific any more, just common. This common view tends to see the world in terms of a giant pie. You take one giant slice and call it "minerals". You can take another giant slice and call it "vegetables". A third humongous slice would be "animals". We could then take the animal slice and further cut it up and name those smaller slices "insects", "vertebrates", mammals", and further slice them to become "felines", "canines", "hominids", and so on. The slice of the pie would get smaller and smaller as you continue to recognize more and more distinct species, or types.

This, however, does not accord with either reality or 'Abdu'l-Baha's statement.

You can rearrange these pie slices into concentric circles so that the mineral  kingdom is in the centre, surrounded by the vegetable kingdom, and then the animals, and so forth, but that still shows a hard and fast delineation between all the levels, which does not accord with reality.

In the end, no matter how we configure it, if there are sharp barriers between the minerals and the plants, or the plants and the animals, or even the animals and the humans, then it does not accord with reality.

I like to think of this as the Platypus-effect. Is the platypus a mammal, since it has mammary glands and nurses its young? But it lays eggs, therefore it can't be a mammal.

Well, you know what? Nature does not adjust itself to our definitions, for our convenience. We, instead, need to adjust our definitions to reflect reality.

And so Jane adjusted the concentric circles to do just that: She made them a continuous spiral.

If we consider the centre as the mineral kingdom, which shows the power of unity, then we can move outwards towards the vegetable kingdom, which demonstrates the power of growth. Of course, we all know that crystals show the power of growth, too, in a sense, so perhaps they are further around the curve, but not quite at the range where we might call them a vegetable.

Then there are those plants that show some animalistic qualities, such as the Venus flytrap, so perhaps they are somewhere closer to animals than minerals.

And while this is not a perfect model and does break down fairly quickly, it does teach us something. For one, it shows the essential unity and fluidity of creation. It also implies that there are things within the mineral kingdom, for a spiral never ends in the centre. It just gets too small for us to see. So perhaps within the mineral kingdom we can include the sub-atomic realm, which is made up of electrons, protons, neturons, quarks, and so forth, which are not really minerals in the strictest of definitions.

It also implies that we can move outwards in a never-ending path.

Perhaps from the animal kingdom it moves outwards towards the human realm, and from there into the spiritual realms. We can only get a glimpse of it right now, for the vast majority of it is just around the corner, or around the bend.

Or perhaps I've gone around the bend.

Either way, I like to think of creation in this way now. From zero to infinity. From the very basic particles of creation spiraling outwards towards God. No matter how I think of it, it is a path that I can continue to tread for the rest of time, moving ever-onwards, upwards, or outwards.

A Thought on Unity, part 1 of 3

Many people see the world in terms of dichotomies. They believe that we are either right or wrong. It is, for them, a binary world made up of black and white stark contrasts.

But as I look outside my window this morning, I don't see a black and white world. I see a multicoloured variegated world, except for the sky. The sky is a fairly uniform grey this morning. But the world itself is filled with colours.

As I think about this view, I realize that there are no negatives in nature.

No, really, there aren't.

"Error", Abdu'l-Baha writes, "is lack of guidance; darkness is absence of light; ignorance is lack of knowledge; falsehood is lack of truthfulness; blindness is lack of sight; and deafness is lack of hearing."

Back to dichotomies. Many people see the world as a place where there is evil on one side and good on another, and somewhere in the middle is a nebulous zero. We start way at the left and somehow move more and more to the right. We're wrong, we're wrong, we're wrong, cross that zero and "poof" we're right. And when you cross that point you somehow become good, saved, a member of their religion, or some other sort of wondrous thing.

But this isn't really the case, is it? When you walk into a dark room and want to read a book, you don't somehow remove the darkness bit by bit, so that the room gets less and less dark, until there is no darkness left, and then begin to add light, do you?

No. You turn on the light.

I have talked about this for years, and it seems kind of strange to me to write this down after so long, but really, it seems more and more important these days.

Another way to look at it is with the idea that we crudely divide religions into two categories. The first are the salvation-based religions. We're either saved or we're damned. It's a very binary way of looking at the world, as I said above. We live our life and then we either go to heaven or hell. Of course, a major change occurred in that view over a thousand years ago when we could suddenly go to purgatory instead, but that's just a washing station on our way to heaven, so it's still heaven or hell. And this way of seeing the world around us is very divisive. You are either for us or against us. It's an us and them model that is not very conducive to either seeing strangers as part of your family nor for showing compassion. I mean, "I'm sorry you're going to hell" is not exactly a higher form of compassion.

The second type of religion would be a spiritual growth based religion. The model for this one would be to start at 0 and work your way towards infinity.

We begin with darkness and continually add more and more light. We begin with ignorance and continually add more and more knowledge. We know nothing of Baha'u'llah or God or any of the various spiritual issues, and continually increase our understanding day by day through reading, studying and applying what we learn.

We can never know infinity, can never get there, but we can always move further and further towards it.

And when we discuss spiritual issues with other people we understand what it is like to have not known something, for there was a time when we were learning, too. We also recognize that it is not strictly linear. There are some things that I have learned in my life, and other things you have learned in yours. It is only through each of sharing with the other that we can best increase our overall knowledge, and our insights into the Writings.

To me, this not only leads us to compassion, but also towards unity, for we are continually seeking to discover more. And we are open to learning what others have discovered, too. Nobody is "right" or "wrong". There is no dichotomy. We have all just learned different things and are all on that long road towards infinity together.

Of course, this doesn't always hold true in the microcosm of things. There are times when we are wrong. For example, if we try to claim that 2 + 2 = 5, our math teacher will mark it wrong. Or if, like I once did, we give a public talk about how marvelous it is that the Bab declared His mission on the first day of spring.

Fortunately for me, in that latter case, people had compassion and only corrected me later.

Maps and Reality

A map cannot tell you where to go if you don't know where you are.

That was the realization I had the other day when driving around looking for something.

It seems to me that the same is true within the Baha'i community. The Universal House of Justice has given us so much guidance on where we are heading as both a community and as a planet, but unless we understand where we are, within our own community and within the world, we won't necessarily know how to get there.

In recent messages, the guidance from the World Centre seems to be more and more focused on helping us understand how to "read our own reality". But what does that mean?

Well, as I'm sure you know by now, whatever I say here is only my own personal opinion and nothing official. It's merely my own thoughts on these ideas based on the Writings and on my own personal experience. (Ok. Sometimes it's based on what I hear of other people's experience, but I experienced them talking about it, right?)

So, what does it mean to read our own reality?

I think it means having a clearer understanding of what is going on around you, why it is happening, and how it came about. It is almost like being a reporter. You ask who, what, where, when and why. The who is you. The what is whatever is happening. The where is where you happen to be. The when is now. And the why? Well, that can be a bit more difficult.

Time for an example.

I live just outside Victoria, BC, on beautiful Vancouver Island, on the shores of the Pacific Ocean. It is quite the remarkable place, what with the weather and all. And yet something seems a bit different than when I was living on the prairies. Oh, not just weather-wise, but in terms of people. I mean, sure, in Winnipeg the weather was always + or - 40 Celsius, and here the range is 2 - 22 Celsius, but there is something very different about the community itself.

I've given lots of thought to this, and have talked to many people about it, and I have a few ideas, be they right or wrong. For now I'm going on the assumption that they are right, and will examine them again at a later date.

First of all, Winnipeg was generally settled by people who were into agriculture. Now I'm not just talking about the Aboriginal peoples, but really moreso about the later settlers. They often came because they were part of a community that was being persecuted and were looking for a new home. The traces of that mentality are still there. They worked together in order to survive. And not just for that historic reason, but for a very simple geological reason, too. You see, when I would walk outside my front door in the city, I could see my neighbours. I could see my neighbour's neighbours. I could literally see for miles down the street. I saw everyone, and I felt like I knew everyone. And people helped each other just as a matter of course. If I saw a car stopped on the side of the road in the wintertime, I had to see if they needed help, because if I didn't they would likely die. There is a sense of community on the prairies that is so deep and so natural that we never really think about it. It is as much a part of life and breathing.

Here, in BC, when I look out my window I see half a block. After that there are either trees or a hill. If I see someone pulled by the side of the road, I don't really need to stop, for the weather isn't all that severe. In the winter, they won't die, they'll get wet. And this area was settled by people who wanted to get away from it all. They were trying to get away from the sprawl of Vancouver or Seattle, or they came to do some mining on their own to see if they could strike it rich.

Even when I look at the Aboriginal population that was here, and compare it to the prairies, there is a world of difference. On the prairies the various nations have huge territories. They are truly ginormous. (Giant and enormous weren't big enough so I had to combine them.) But here, there is something like 6 distinct nations in a very small area.

It seems to me that the land itself moves people towards a sense of individuality in this area.

And that's not necessarily a bad thing. But it does mean that I need to adapt how I teach the Faith. I don't begin by talking about community. That's not really a topic on most people's radar. They want things that are more conducive towards individual growth, such as meditation, or yoga, or health food. And you know what? Ruhi Book 1 is all about the individual. It isn't until we get to Book 2 that we really begin to shift our focus towards something external. And that's ok. I've learned to trust that process. And I've learned to look at what people are interested in around this area and work with that. It's sort of like that question I love to ask around Ruhi Book 6: What topic will you begin with? You need to know your audience to understand what topic is of the most interest to them.

Just this past weekend I was talking to someone about teaching and she was wondering how she could teach her daughter the Faith. I asked her what her daughter was interested in. She thought about it for a moment and said, "I don't know."

My advice? "Talk to her. Ask her what interests her and just listen. She will tell what concerns her and then you can help her find the answers in the Writings."

You see, this whole thing about maps and knowing our reality is no different from "the divine Physician" and His prescribing the remedy we need. Before a doctor can prescribe a remedy, they have to know what the illness is. And how do they find out? They take our pulse, read our blood pressure, talk to us, get to know our symptoms, and so on. They read our reality. And as they are aware of what a healthy should look like, they can help us find the path that will lead there.

So. Maps. Reality.

How do I try to discover the reality in my neighbourhood? I just talk to people. I ask them heartfelt questions, and listen carefully to their answers. After all, the Universal House of Justice has given us a vision of what a healthy community looks like and the path to achieve it, so we need to discover where we currently are on that path. If the House of Justice tell us to do a particular thing at a particular time, then it would be fairly silly for us to do it if we're not there yet. It would be like taking a left turn three streets before you should. I mean, you can, and you might get where you need to go, or you may have just ended up taking a much longer route.

I know what my interests are, but when I'm talking to others, I need to talk about their interests. If I don't, well, they won't be interested, will they? I mean, I might get lucky, but why not find out first?

How about you? What is the reality in your neighbourhood? What are the most pressing issues people have where you live? And if you don't really know, how will you go about finding out?

Butterflies

For some reason my heart just sings over butterflies. I've never quite understood why, but I just love those little flutterers of colour.

Yesterday I was at the market, selling my jewelry when I went to say hi to a friend down the way. While talking with her, another friend, Sahar, came by with her pal Greg. It was quite wonderful to see them. As we walked back to my booth I saw an injured butterfly on the ground. Without even thinking about it, I bent over and let him walk onto my finger, and for the next hour that butterfly found a refuge by clinging to my shirt. When I came home the butterfly was now on my backpack, and I asked Shoghi to go out to the car and bring him in to the greenhouse tent in our back yard. We put him on a flower in there, and placed a small dish of sugar water nearby. I truly thought this injured little guy would perish in the night, but to my surprise, when I checked on him this morning, he was quite well, resting by the flap of the tent. And that, dear Reader, made my heart sing.

It also made me think about butterflies today.

And you know what? I think the Baha'i community in many areas is like a butterfly. Do you remember the old saying about how we are sometimes like a butterfly, starting off as a caterpillar and then becoming transformed into a beautiful butterfly? Sounds nice, right? Well, sometimes I think that little metaphor is a bit simplistic.

I was thinking about that the other day and realized that this isn't exactly what happens. It's a bit more complex, a bit more enlightening. The little caterpillar goes around munching on the leaves until one day it decides that it's time to change. Of course, this isn't usually a conscious decision. It is often forced by necessity of nature.

And there it goes. It finds a nice little place of safety and spends a bit of time wrapping itself in its cocoon. (Yes, I know that sometimes the cocoon exudes from its skin, but work with me here.) Then it spends quite a bit of time inside there. And it's not that it's doing nothing, resting and waiting. No. It's going through a massive inner transformation. It dissolves. It becomes a liquid. It truly undergoes an incredible and radical change that is not visible to one looking at it from the outside.

Only after this astonishing metamorphosis does it emerge.

And then, you know what? It rests. The butterfly will sit there for many hours resting after its tiring ordeal.

It isn't until it takes the necessary time to rest, to allow its wings to dry out and gather its strength that it will finally take flight.

That's where I think we are. Most of us, at least. The Universal House of Justice, in the2014 Ridvan message, spoke of a "lull in activity" that sometimes occurs in a community. And that's perfectly natural. Of course, it doesn't mean that we should be content and just sit there doing nothing. But rather that we should recognize it as part of the process of growth and transformation, not get discouraged, search on the reasons for the impasse and strive to move forward. But it takes time. And that's ok.

That's what I've learned from the butterfly.

I think that right now many of us, many of our communities, are undergoing this transformation. Perhaps it is not visible to those looking from the outside, but we are changing nonetheless.Some thing that we have taken for granted, such as walking around on those little legs, may not be needed anymore. We may change them for the long and beautiful legs of a butterfly. And you know what? Necessary as they are, they won't be our primary mode of transportation anymore. No. We'll mainly use our wings.

Of course, I have no idea what those wings will be, but I look forward to learning about it with the rest of us.

It's All In How You Say It

I'm a competent writer. I can usually get the point across without too much effort, but sometimes it takes a bit to make sure that the proper tone is used.

I remember one time, a number of years ago, I was asked to draft 5 letters for a Baha'i agency to inform people that their cheque had bounced. They wanted 5 different versions so that they could compare tone and see which was the most appropriate. I could understand that. No problem. Or so I thought.

The first version began with a very nice "Dearly loved Friend". It went on to say that we understood that sometimes these things happen, and that it isn't really much of a problem, just a simple oversight, but could they please, you know and so on and so forth.

The next draft was a bit more firm, but still exceedingly polite.

Four letters were written, each with a different style, and I was totally stumped for a fifth. I tried, really I did. But I drew a complete blank. Nothing. Nada. Zip. So I began, "Dear Bozo", and continued "Can't you do math?" It was so completely over the top that it was almost therapeutic. I was practically crying with laughter by the time I finished.

And so I printed all five, relishing the thought of my boss's expression on reading the last one, explaining that I just couldn't come up with a fifth for him, and chucking it in the bin, with nothing more than a mild memory of amusement. I wasn't too worried. He was, after all, well known for his sense of humour. A few minutes later he popped his head in my office and asked if I had them done. I was more then happy to hand him the letters, and bummed out when he took them and disappeared.

It was about an hour later that he came back with something of a stern expression on his face. (I am, if nothing else, a master of understatement.)

It seems that he went straight to the photocopier, made 9 copies and practically ran upstairs to his meeting with the National Spiritual Assembly. Without even glancing at the copies, he passed them around for everyone to consult on which one to use. I still shake with laughter at the thought of that meeting. (I understand that they read them aloud, one at a time, and that he paused at "Dear Bo...") (My eyes are still tearing up at the image of that moment.) (And I still recall one of the elder members of that Assembly encountering me in the lunchroom and, with a smirk, mumbling under his breath "Bozo" to me. We both just lost it, and everyone was staring at us trying to figure out what he possibly could have said to make us both practically fall over laughing. Neither of us would tell.)

'Abdu'l-Baha, of course, was fully aware of the importance of saying things in a way that would be least likely to offend.  He said that when discussing matters with another person, and you find you disagree with them, rather than challenge them, we should be conciliatory and courteous. He said "we should speak as if we are investigating the truth, saying: 'Here these things are before us. Let us investigate to determine where and in what form the truth can be found.'"

Sometimes it's the tone of voice. Other times it's the words themselves. I recall one image I saw recently that said that arguments are 10% difference of opinion and 90% the way we say it. Whether or not that's true, for 78% of all statistics like that are made up on the spot, I think there is a degree of truth in it.

Just the other day I was at a reflection meeting and wanted to know the desired outcome of it so that I could better work towards it. I came dangerously close to asking what the purpose of meeting was, only changing that at the last moment to asking what the goal was. "What's the goal of this meeting" is very different from "What's the purpose of being here?"

I remember another time when my now ex-wife came home one day and was so excited. She was bouncing up and down saying, "I just got a sewing table! Now I can sew it all together." Without thinking, obviously, I said, "Sew what?" Now that may look nice and innocent in type, but it sounds like unfortunately the same as "So what?" Fortunately I was quick enough to react and say, "I meant what are you going to sew." (I think that qualifies as a near-death experience.)

Usually I'm on the giving end of awkward phrasing, but there was one time I recall too vividly of being on the receiving end. Marielle (my, spoiler alert, now-wife) and I had been doing a lot of studying of the Writings, and engaging in service together. I knew that I, for one, had begun to, as they say, check her out. So when she phoned me up one afternoon and said that we had to "talk" (ominous organ music in the background, please), I was, understandably, nervous. We went to a coffee shop (which I also vividly recall) (The Second Cup on Corydon in Winnipeg), I got a cup of coffee for myself and a tea for her. We went outside to their patio, sat down, and she began to speak.

"You're a nice guy, but..."

And that's all I heard for the next few minutes.

Inside I was crying out, "Nooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!" My poor heart felt as if it were fracturing, tears were welling up in my eyes. I felt as if my hoped-for future had been dashed to the ground and unceremoniously stomped flat. Earthquakes, hurricanes, tornadoes: they all raged inside the landscape of my soul. I could hear Elmer Fudd crying out "SMOG!" I was certain that my lower lip must have been trembling, but I really didn't want her to notice, for I would never, ever, do anything to try and coerce her into a relationship she felt uncertain of, or even worse, undesirous of.

And when the blizzard of white noise began to subside, a few nano-seconds alter, I heard her saying something about marriage and children and investigation of character and all those other catchphrases of sheer delight and bliss. I don't think I have ever pendulumed so quickly from one extreme emotion to another so fast. It must have been some sort of drug-free world record.

Only now, years later, do I recognize that English wasn't her first language, so of course she wouldn't have known about the "you're a nice guy but" assassination phrase of the male soul.

Yup. Phrasing is everything. Oh, and so is tone of voice.

So now, when I'm sharing some of the ideas of the Faith with people (or, in Baha'i parlance, teaching), I try to be aware of loaded terms. For some people, "spiritual" instead of "religious", and others "reality" instead of "God". I'm only now beginning to be aware that people in British Columbia tend to phase out anything about community building, but are very interested in individual development. I mean, not everyone, of course, but just as a general rule. And talking about the Spirit of Christ is just as easy as talking about attaining Nirvana. They're all the same to me, so I don't really care which phrase I use. But if choosing one word over another can help prevent a wall from going up inside, why not use it. After all, teaching is about reaching out from one heart to another. It's not about words, but about spirit. It's all in how you say it.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, they didn't choose that last letter. They went for the first one.

The Oddities

"The most exciting phrase to hear in science," said Isaac Asimov, "the one that heralds the most discoveries, is not 'Eureka!' but 'That's funny...'" And it's true. Time and again in the various sciences, we have been complacent in our understanding of the universe, confident that "little anomaly" we see in the data will simply work itself out. Of course it was those "little anomalies" that led us to things like the Theory of Relativity, and the awareness of dark matter and dark energy in the universe. We still don't know what the latter two are, but we have consistently seen anomalies in the expected data that it requires us to re-think what we know.

I find the same to be true with the Writings. And not just the Writings of the Baha'i Faith, but all sacred Writings.

For example, in the book of Malachi, there is a reference to the Promised One purifying us like the silver. Why silver, I wondered. Why not gold? And then when I began to purify the gold and silver for my wife's wedding ring, I began to understand. Gold, when you melt it, has a black sludge on the outside. As you purify it, the sludge goes away, for those were the impurities. Silver, on the other hand, always has the sludge on the outside, for the sludge is the silver. With the gold, you watch the surface, and when it's clear, your gold is pure. With the silver, you have to watch the centre. As you begin the melting process, the very middle of the sphere of the molten silver is all wibbly-wobbly. At some point, though, it sort of clicks into place and it becomes a perfect mirror. That is when you have to take off the heat. Not only is the silver then pure, but if you keep heating it, you run the risk of it becoming crystalline, kind of, and fracturing as you work with it. The Promised One, when He purifies us, will do so like the silver. He will keep the heat of tests on us until He sees His reflection within our heart.

In the Kitab-i-Aqdas, Baha'u'llah has that unusual mention of the Universal House of Justice in regards to the funds of the Faith. He says that after the Aghsan, the funds go to the Universal House of Justice "should it be established by then". If not, then it goes to them "who speak not except by His leave", or the Hands of the Cause. That was a strange little thing to put in there. And yet, it was exactly what was needed to secure the funds during the ministry of the Hands.

In a well-known prayer, as well as a number of other places, Baha'u'llah says, "Thy might, in truth, is equal to all things." My wife thought this was an odd phrase, for isn't God's might greater than all things? But no, Baha'u'llah says that it is equal to everything. That's a very exact relationship. It is neither less than, nor greater than, but exactly equal to all of it. God's energy, His might, is equal to all matter, all things. In other words, energy equals matter, which Einstein, just a few decades later, proved.

Oh, and that prayer, as I'm sure you know, begins, "Many a chilled heart, O my God, hath been set ablaze with the fire of Thy Cause, and many a slumberer hath been wakened by the sweetness of Thy voice." Both of these metaphors are about energy, and raising the level thereof.

When talking about the Spiritual Assembly, 'Abdu'l-Baha says that the members "are the waves of one sea, the drops of one river, the stars of one heaven, the rays of one sun, the trees of one orchard, the flowers of one garden." When Marielle and I were reading this, we kind of skipped over it a bit. Well, I was reading it aloud to her, and I kind of skipped it, thinking it was another of those "this of one that" sections. That was when she lovingly chastised me and said that this was sacred Text I was skipping. It was this that got us to look at it a bit more closely, for it was something odd, kind of stuck in the middle there. That was when we saw they were pairs, going from macro to micro, covering water, light and life. It was because of this we really began to understand that it was implied that the writings on consultation worked not only on the macro level of a full Assembly, but also on the micro level of a couple of people. And it was this study that really led to us getting married.

It never fails, every time we see something in the Writings that makes us say, "That's strange", it always leads on this marvelous adventure ending in some incredible discovery for us.

In his introduction to the Kitab-i-Iqan, the Guardian describes the book as being "of unsurpassed pre-eminence among the writings of" Baha'u'llah. I thought that was odd, for surely the Kitab-i-Aqdas must surpass it. But no, for this book is about how to recognize a Messenger of God. The Aqdas is about being obedient. Recognition and obedience, those twin, inseparable duties.

Then, in the very first paragraph of the Kitab-i-Iqan, Baha'u'llah tells us to sanctify our souls so that "haply ye may attain that station which God hath destined for you". "Haply?" What a strange word. Shouldn't that be "happily", with joy? But no, it is "haply", with luck, as in haphazardly. In other words, we can do all we can, but it is still up to God. There is no magic formula, like the Universal House of Justice says in the 2014 Ridvan Message, "Awareness of this reality frees one from the fruitless search for a rigid formula for action..." It works on the level of the individual, and it works on the level of community. Oh, and I mention this because in some religions people believe that if you a particular prayer in a particular way, with all the correct rituals in place, then whatever you are praying for will magically occur.

Now one oddity I've never quite figured out is why Baha'u'llah put paragraph 152 in the Kitab-i-Aqdas. I mean, I know why it's there, but why there? Why in that particular place in the Book? He has just told us, in paragraph 150 to teach our children the verses of God, and in paragraph 151, to renew the furnishings in our home on a regular basis, every 19 years. In paragraph 153 He tells us to be gentle to those who show us anger. I mean, these are all fairly significant things, from the education of children to responding with kindness to anger. But there, in paragraph 152, He tells us to wash our feet. That sure seems random to me. Odd, for sure. I've never quite seen why that one is placed right there, unless he's calling importance to it because, after all, a vast number of people suffer from a simple infection they get by walking through parasite infested water. It is, in fact, one of the most wide-spread diseases on the planet. So maybe it is a huge issue after all. It will likely take a physician to explain this one to me.

Either way, I have to admit that every time I have investigated an oddity within the Writings, presuming it is within my ability, then I feel like I have made a major discovery. (Well, it was, for me.)

So next time you say that prayer about chilled hearts, remember, e = mc2, harmony of science and religion, and all that other stuff.

Ridvan 2014, a few more thoughts

Here I am, back at the university again, wondering what my project for the day shall be. I was going to finish writing up my report about the Canadian National Convention, but then discovered that I left my laptop's power cord at home. Ah well. I guess this is God's way of saying, "Mead, you're a bozo."

Fair enough.

And so, rather than work on that report, transcribing all 30 pages and sorting out the various ideas, I've decided to write a bit more about this message from the Universal House of Justice. In the next few weeks, I am hoping to write a few thoughts about some other topics that arose from this letter, such as "veils", the phrase "safe and secure" (you'll have to read it to see the connection), "tabernacle", and "accompaniment".

Before that, though, I'm just going to share a few other thoughts that arose about this message.

In paragraph 2, they talk about spiritual education being enhanced through experience. This is a great reminder to me, and please remember that this is only my own opinion and nothing official, that we should listen to our youth. The Universal House of Justice, in paragraph 1, reminded us that the youth have just had this incredible experience of the youth conferences last year and are doing all these marvelous things. Now, "through experience", they can talk about what they have done. Their experience is real, and relevant. They are not limited to, nor bound by, experiences from the 70s, 80s, or 90s. Their experience is fresh. We, who are of a... finer vintage, need to learn from them.

In paragraph 3, there are many subtle gems hidden within. To start, they refer to the size of the island, Tanna, a mere 30,000. They may not mention the history of the place, but that is available in other places. For example, a number of years ago, when the Local Spiritual Assembly was offered a large sum of money to build I think it was fresh water wells, they consulted and built the wells in two other communities before building their own desperately needed one. This set up the example of looking to other people's needs before their own. Now they have engaged in an open dialogue with a third of the island's inhabitants. This leads me to ask if they can do it, what can we here in Canada do? But it is also worth noting the length of time this took. It was not done overnight with a single home visit. It took years and "a supreme effort". Note that phrase, "a supreme effort", and then compare it to the very last paragraph; "If only ye exert the effort..."

They also mention, in that same paragraph, "the bounty of being able to turn to a Local Spiritual Assembly for guidance and for the resolution of difficult situations..." This is a good reminder to me that I need to recognize the importance of this institution of the Faith in terms of the greater community, not just in relation to the Baha'is. It also gets me to ask what it means for a decision of this institution to be "characterized by wisdom and sensitivity"? How can I, as an individual, serve to assist my institutions to better increase this capacity?

I am reminded of a statement made recently by a Counsellor. He said that for any of the three protagonists of the Faith, the individual, the institution, and the community, to increase in capacity, they have to be primarily concerned about the development of the other two. In other words, if I want to develop as an individual, I have to really look at what I can do to help my community, as well as my institutions. That has led to some interesting soul searching on my part, and I can only presume that it is doing the same for these others.

Down in paragraph 5, they speak of this concept of "success" and "failure" breeding "freneticism" and paralysing volition. Interestingly enough, frenetic literally means an inflammation of the brain resulting in insanity, and is generally used to describe a fast and uncontrolled movement. Paralysis is, of course, another medical term describing an inability to move. Both are uncontrolled and related to movement, each one at an end of the spectrum. And this concept of success and failure also describes both ends of an unhealthy spectrum. Personally, I find that interesting. After all, Baha'u'llah is the Supreme Physician, with His finger on the pulse of humanity. And now it is the Universal House of Justice identifying the ailment and prescribing the remedy.

In the same paragraph, they speak of this "fruitless search for a rigid formula". I wonder: What does a rigid formula look like? If we can describe it, perhaps that will make it easier for us to avoid it, especially by accident. It seems to me that it is anything that insists on a particular manner of doing something, especially before examining the circumstances in which it is to be done. This also relates back to the earlier phrase in paragraph 2, "searching consultation". When consulting on the reasons for a lull, trying to find a way past an impasse, if we go in with "the answer", then it is not a "searching" consultation. We are likely to be an impediment to finding a solution.

This reminds me of the prayer that my son is now trying to memorize. It is from the Bab, and beings "I adjure Thee by Thy might..." It then says, "...in moments of heedlessness guide my steps aright through Thine inspiration." When we find ourselves at an impasse, it is a test. And if we are heedless, we may accidentally find ourselves moving towards establishing a rigid formula, mostly out of desperation. But we can also pray for assistance at this time. We can see that we are wandering in the woods, unaware of where we are going. And when we are heedless, especially in the woods, it is easy to step off the path. But with guidance, with that moment of inspiration, we may also just as accidentally place our foot on the path and stay safe. So here, I like to be aware of what this "rigid formula" can look like so that I can be careful not to step there.

Oh, and all this also reminds me of the importance of not only reflecting on what we have learned, but also on learning how to share it. (By the way, these are not necessarily my own ideas. A lot of this comes from talking with others and listening at the National Convention. I'm just thinking and seeing what comes up.) How often have people merely told a story without sharing what they learned from it? And how often have people said, "We learned a lot", without saying what it is that they learned. This is something else that we need to work on, in general. (Well, I know I need to work on it.)

Finally, for today at least, there is the overarching theme of accompaniment in this letter, and many other recent ones. This theme of helping others arise to serve is so important. As I said earlier I will be dedicating a whole article on it, and I am sure that it won't be enough. After all, providing service is easy, but helping others arise to provide service takes time and commitment. And you know what? We all need to be accompanied at some time. In one of His prayers, 'Abdu'l-Baha says, "...accompany in my exile."

Oh, and if you have noticed a drop in the number of articles I've been writing lately, it's because other bloggers have been asking for help in getting their own blogs started. Accompaniment is truly such an important topic. (As is detachment, and effort, and patience, and courage, and perseverance, and so on and so forth.) I feel I have grown so much as a writer in the past year because I have had the bounty of helping others begin their own blogs. Thanks to you all.