All I Want for Christmas
Posted: Sunday, December 04, 2011
by Jack H. Schick
I had trouble centering down during my meditation today. I got to the Meetinghouse later than usual because I’d rushed out of the house, forgetting a book (on meditation, of all things), that I wanted to give to another Friend, and had to go back for it. When I arrived, there were a couple of strangers ('new attenders' we call them), in the library. I introduced myself, welcomed them and gave them the Quaker Meeting for Worship cheat-sheet we have printed up, so they could figure out what was going on. When I finally headed for my seat, I notice that the Quarterly Clerk was visiting from Plymouth and was in the pew directly in front of where I usually sit. I owe him a report and was apprehensive.
Meeting didn’t settle in very smoothly this morning. There’s always a few minutes, as people keep arriving, that the silence and stillness is disrupted while they get to their seats, but there were quite a few stragglers today. Old Mary struggled in the side door with her walker almost ten minutes into Meeting, this time. Then Wilda kept rooting through her satchel and rustling a plastic bag. On top of that, Don had a cough. It was really tough to focus.
My usual technique of getting centered down is to close my eyes and imagine I’m looking down on the Earth from out in space. I don’t see the moon orbiting. I just see the blue ball with white, whispy clouds. I drift away backwards until I see the solar system, not like it really is, but as you see it drawn in books, with all the planets recognizable. From there, I zoom backwards until I’m looking at the galaxy, slowly rotating, the Sun and Earth somewhere down there among the masses of stars.
The next step is a giant leap. I put myself somewhere outside of the universe. I see the universe as a big bubble with the billions and billions of galaxies inside of a transparent membrane. I can’t describe where I am, past infinity I guess. When I get there, I focus on my consciousness, my awareness. I sense that that consciousness is separate from and bigger than the universe. I try to comprehend that consciousness as God’s mind.
About then is when I consider myself centered down enough to appreciate the Light Within, as Friends call that which they seek in Meetings for Worship. From that point, way out there somewhere, I can go more purely into my Self and find the Light and the harmony that is the Great Spirit that permeates all. Perhaps then I can find Truth and direction....But then, Wilda started rustling her plastic bag again and I was back on Earth sitting there in my pew.
I almost made it 'there' one other time, but Don started coughing. I gave it up and started thinking about my “all I want for Christmas” story again. I remembered the time I wanted that gold and silver Napoleon chess set that was in the jewelry store window. I stopped and stared at it every day on the way home from school. I remembered how disappointed I was when they’d gotten me the cheaper, blue and white set, and how my Mom cried when she saw the look on my face. I remembered how disappointed and mad I got when I tried real hard and thought I’d gotten the perfect gift for my teenage daughter, but she made some insulting comment about it. I remembered remembering those times and forcing a big smile and raving over it when one of the kids got me something ridiculous.
I thought about the “peace on Earth, good will toward men” angle again. I couldn’t help thinking about the Quaker “S.P.I.C.E.S.” as they call it (Simplicity, Peace, Integrity, Community, Equality, Stewardship). As good Friends, we’re supposed to incorporate those principles into our everyday life. I guess I try. I can “want” peace on Earth and good will toward men till I faint, but I have a much better chance of success getting a 15 year old girl something she’ll thank me for. It just ain’t gonna happen, so keep on wanting. Take care of your own responsibility toward achieving the goal, is all I can say.
As I mulled over all that, I developed an appreciation for the philosophy of the old time Quakers—that all days are the same, none is more special that any other. They didn’t celebrate Christmas, or Easter, or birthdays. It’s maybe not a contemporary idea anymore. We have a National Moldy Cheeze Day to celebrate, for crying out loud. Nearly every day of the year has some celebration. Having no special days at all is starting to sound better to me all the time. Simplicity and equality, baby (see? I am trying to live the principles in daily life).
When Don went into that last coughing fit near the end of the hour something occurred to me. Christmas is on a Sunday this year. 95% of our Meeting members are converts (those who have been “convinced” of the Quaker Way, as they say). Almost everybody ‘grew up’ in some other church. They get nostalgic for the noise and the pageantry. They don’t mind a priest or minister telling them what to do and what to believe—occasionally. Hardly anybody goes to a Quaker Meeting on holidays. They go to watch a Mass or a Candle Light Service down at the Lutheran church to get that Hosanna on the Highest high. The Meetinghouse is usually full the next week, though, as they rehab.
So, I guess I know what I want now. All I want for Christmas is a good, quiet meditation session. I don’t want there to be nobody at all there, a Meeting for Worship is a group consciousness event, but I want people who aren’t sick and who don’t bring plastic bags. I’ll get there early and help Old Mary get to her seat on time. This whole time of the year is just too stressful and expensive. I need to be able to sit quietly for an hour and try to get to that place where, maybe, I can find the Truth and the Light then bask in it for a while. It makes me better able to face the triviality of this, often ridiculous, plain of reality we're stuck on during this phase of our existance.
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Top-level comments on this article: (4 total)I hear you Jack. My husband has found 'that place'. Yoga. He swears by it. Merry Christmas Jack.good for him. I apreciate the Christian aspects of Quaker Meetings, though.
Thanks for reading and commenting
Admire you, and this. Lovely, explicit, simple and profound. Here's to the Quakers!Thanks. Yes, I'm a "convinced friend" and love it. It's very popular with we who are recovering from substance abuse.
That's a great Christmas wish, Jack, and I enjoyed reading about it. Christmas is stressful for me too - too much noise and commercial frenzy. So, here's wishing you that good, quiet meditation session.Thanks, Jennifer.
You, my Friend, are gifted. You can take the words out of one's mouth and write them with clarity and, not only deliver a visual picture, but make it rich and fully colorized. Thank you for describing what happens to me 89% of the time at Meeting. I long for an hour that is the spiritual bliss that some describe as "yoga" And it is, in some sense of the word, an exercise as such. Merry Christmas, Jack, and to you a good quiet.Where were you that Sunday? I missed you. Thanks for reading and commenting.
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