The art of being with what is
Cerished Friend, esteemed Reader,
In this weeks Soul-Letter I want to pick up the topic from last week's Soul-Letter No. 57, where we were asking the question: What is meditation?
We explored the possibility that meditation is not something we practice apart from life, rather the quality of presence with which we meet life itself.
We spoke about observation, silence, and the dissolution of the divisions we create between ourselves and our experiences.
Today, I would like to take this inquiry one step further.
Can we remain completely present with life, even when life becomes uncomfortable?
It is relatively easy to speak of presence when everything is peaceful. When our relationships are harmonious, our bodies feel well, and life seems to move according to our wishes.
Yet what happens when something deeply unpleasant enters our experience?
When fear arises, when someone disappoints us, when our bodies are in pain, or when life suddenly takes a direction we never anticipated?
Our first instinct is often to escape.
We distract ourselves, search for explanations, blame circumstances, or desperately wish for the experience to end.
And perhaps this is where much of our suffering begins.
We suffer not only from what happens to us, we suffer from our resistance to what happens.
Consider how often an unpleasant experience lasts only a moment, while the mind continues to revisit it for hours, days, sometimes years.
The event itself may have passed, yet internally we continue to fight it.
We replay conversations, imagine different outcomes, and ask why life has placed us in such circumstances.
What began as an experience becomes an entire psychological struggle.
There is a powerful way of looking at this: sometimes the original pain represents only a small portion of our suffering, while the greater part is created through our resistance to it.
Our whole suffering is trying to run away from a bad experience.
Of course, pain is real, and some circumstances require us to protect ourselves, seek help, or make changes. Being present never means remaining in harm's way.
It means we no longer need to add an endless inner battle to what is already difficult.
"The root of suffering is attachment."
What if, instead of constantly trying to escape an unpleasant experience, we learned to meet it with the same openness we offer to moments of joy?
Not because we enjoy suffering.
Not because we should accept every circumstance as desirable.
Rather because every experience, pleasant or unpleasant, is part of the life unfolding through us.
The Great Mystery does not reveal itself exclusively through beauty, comfort, and harmony.
Sometimes our deepest realizations emerge through uncertainty, disappointment, and the very experiences we would never have chosen.
To remain present with these moments requires courage.
It requires devotion to life itself.
And perhaps the greatest devotion is not expressed through rituals or spiritual disciplines, rather through our willingness to be fully here, with whatever life presents.
To be with is the highest form of devotion and the highest form of meditation.
There is something profoundly transformative in this simple recognition.
When we stop resisting an experience, the energy previously consumed by our internal struggle becomes available for something else.
Clarity may emerge.
Compassion may arise.
A new perspective may reveal itself.
And sometimes, without any effort, we discover a response we could never have reached through endless thinking.
Difficulty is our distraction.
We are so occupied with what should be different that we often miss what is actually taking place.
We believe meditation requires us to eliminate thoughts, overcome emotions, or reach some extraordinary state of consciousness.
Yet even when the mind is restless, even when fear is present, even when we feel completely lost, we can simply be with what is.
That is the essence of meditation.
"The more you resist, the more it persists."
And here comes something beautiful.
When we cease fighting life, we do not become passive or indifferent.
Quite the opposite.
Something within us becomes available again.
Our natural intelligence, creativity, sensitivity, and capacity to respond begin to move more freely.
We may discover an unexpected sense of peace in the middle of uncertainty, a deeper tenderness toward another human being, or even gratitude for an experience that once seemed unbearable.
Life is not stagnant.
It is continuously moving, creating, transforming, expressing itself through countless forms.
And when our inner noise becomes quiet enough, we may begin to feel ourselves participating in that movement rather than standing in opposition to it.
Once your noise stops, then life commits to you and song starts.
Perhaps this is what it means to live in devotion to the One-Mind.
To recognize that life is not happening separately from us.
We are part of its unfolding.
Bringing this into your life
So, how can we begin to live this innerstanding?
The next time something unpleasant arises, before trying to change the experience, give yourself a moment.
Pause.
Notice what is happening within you.
Is there fear? Anger? Sadness? A strong desire for the situation to be different?
Allow yourself to feel what is present without immediately creating a story around it.
Then ask yourself:
Am I suffering from what is happening, or from my resistance to what is happening?
Can I remain with this experience for a moment, without judging it, escaping it, or demanding that it disappear?
And if action is needed, can I allow that action to emerge from clarity rather than fear?
This is not a demand to endure everything silently. It is an invitation to meet reality clearly, including the freedom to change what needs changing.
You may discover that an emotion begins to soften simply because you have stopped fighting it.
Or perhaps it remains.
Either way, you have already changed your relationship with it.
And this is the invitation I would like to leave you with today:
Do not make your peace dependent on life becoming different. Discover the possibility of being at peace with life as it unfolds.
Last week, we explored how all of life can become meditation.
This week, we recognize that this includes the moments we would rather avoid.
Because meditation is not only being present when life feels beautiful.
It is the art of being with life in its totality.
And perhaps, when we no longer need every experience to end before we can fully live, we finally discover what it means to be truly alive.
A Prayer
Great Spirit,
May I find the courage to meet life as it unfolds.
May I no longer turn away from the experiences that invite me into deeper awareness.
When fear arises, may I remain present.
When pain appears, may I meet it with compassion.
When uncertainty surrounds me, may I rest in the wisdom of the universal One-Mind.
Teach me to release the struggle I create within myself,
to recognize the sacred in every experience,
and to allow life to move freely through me.
May my presence become devotion,
my acceptance become freedom,
and my life become a living meditation.
So it is.
With Love,
Bear
P.S. The next time life presents you with something uncomfortable, before wishing it away, simply ask yourself: Can I be fully with this, just for this moment?
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