Lost in the Woods

"Knowledge has entertained me and it has shaped me and it has failed me. Something in me still starves. In what is probably the most serious inquiry of my life, I have begun to look past reason, past the provable, in other directions. Now I think there is only one subject worth my attention and that is the recognition of the spiritual side of the world and within this recognition, the condition of my own spiritual state. I am not talking about having faith necessarily, although one hopes so. What I mean by spirituality is not theology, but attitude. Such interest nourishes me beyond the finest compendium of facts. In my mind now, in any comparison of demonstrated truths and unproven but vivid intuitions, the truths lose."

Mary Oliver, Winter Hours

The human brain is a remarkable organ. Our ability to name, order, create, plan, know, is stunning. But no matter how incredible these talents are, there is a place where knowledge simply cannot go. A place where what we know is useless, senseless, because what is required is a state of being that allows for not knowing. Many of the great thinkers speak of this place with humility. Einstein wrote, "The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it and can no longer, wonder, no longer marvel, is as good as dead." This incredibly brilliant man was aware that human knowledge alone will flounder.

As my family witnesses the passage of our mother from this life, we have all been anointed in different ways into this place. I am beginning to believe that it is a rite of passage to receive this awareness. Certainly humans can take life, but we are powerless for the most part when we await it's natural arrival. Its mysterious and exquisite timing is beyond our ability to know. We may understand scientifically what will happen, but the moment of its arrival is not ours.

In her book Broken Open, Elizabeth Lesser writes, 'to be human, is to be lost in the woods'. I've thought a good bit about that lately. Overseeing the care of someone has lots of grey areas, lots of decisions that require those non knowing parts of ourselves like intuition, compassion, love, tenderness. It is full of emotion. As the days pass I am thinking more and more that perhaps being lost in the woods is meant to allow us to lose some of our moorings to control and knowledge so we can have better access to our hearts. There's an incredible line in Mark Helprin's wondrous book A Soldier of the Great War, where the old man, Alessandro, says "Death is emotional". His younger less experienced friend, Nicolo come s back with, "So is life". Alessandro replies, "One hopes."

On this beautiful spring morning I am thinking how they are both so true. Each is speaking from the opposite end of life. In between is the great journey full of encounters that we will not ever truly understand in the course of our lives. We arrive at the end, worn and frayed and as we prepare to pass through the door, we find ourselves lost, one last time in the woods. We are placed, trembling, into the arms of something we can not ever fully prepare ourselves for to experience. We and those who witness with us, can only be present with it. And with it's completion, it seems to me that every last bit of hunger, the part in us that is never satisfied, will be finally full.