Boats are mostly intended for a journey out and then back to port. You pull up to the dock and disembark on shaky legs. You know that you will be heading out to sea again but, for now, you are back to life on land with ample food, rest, and tools and time to make repairs.
This has not been that kind of a journey. I have thought that port was near over and over, but instead the sea just goes on and on. My little boat is getting worn and I am tired. So, I must learn to reprovision and repair at sea. Its not as easy as at port, but I am learning. Regular physical activity, mindfulness, good quality food are important at all times, but when life is battering you for long stretches of months and years they become as necessary as fresh water. I've been joking to myself that I have soul-scurvy.
It is for this reason that I sat this morning, after stretching and breathing a great deal more than I have any morning lately, with a lit candle and a small statue of Guanyin, goddess of compassion, protector of the unfortunate, guardian of those at sea. I am not the kind of person who can sit and just "let my mind go blank". I don't think that my mind has ever been blank in my life, and telling it to try is like asking you "please don't imagine Mr. Bean in a Spiderman suit". (There is your giggle for the day. You're welcome.) Instead, I try to give my mind direction. Today I asked for insight into how to navigate this sea. I know that I will come to port one day, and I want to be a stronger and more loving person when I get there, not just battered and sunburned. I sat silently and thought about my journey so far, and slowly felt a kind of peace. A tiny blossom of hope for better days to come began to flower. I breathed deeply and felt grateful that I made this time today. I opened my eyes, and I saw that my candle had gone out. The spell of the moment felt broken. I sighed and struck a new match to relight my candle.
That was when I understood that this was the insight I had asked for.
Candles have been used in worship for as long as we have had candles, it seems. Until the immediacy of electric lights, candles and lamps with flames were in our homes, on our streets, in our businesses, and our temples.
And all flames need tending.
Everywhere there was flame, there were those charged with tending the flame.
I am used to my electric lights that I can turn on and forget about. A candle is not like them. You can't just light a candle and walk away. Most things in life, however, are much more like candles than they are like electric lights. They need tending. My pets need tending, my children need tending, my plants need tending. I need tending. My relationships need tending. In a moment I finally had words for what I missed out on in my childhood - tending. Tending is different than just loving. Or maybe it is a way of loving? It is like the loving that Mr. Rogers talked about when he said that love is an active word, like struggle. It is not just a feeling, but a practice. It is something that you do. It is not enough to just love my dogs. I have to feed, water, walk, and train them. I have to think about what they may need and provide it as I am able. I need to do the same for my friendships, my family relationships, and for myself. I also get to want it from others.
I want to tend the people I care about and be tended in return.
Now I know a little more about what the land will look like when I see it on the horizon.
I have a long way to go yet. I'm not always very good at tending. It is hard to know how to give what you aren't entirely sure how to receive. But I have a little more of a heading; a star to plot a course by.
Tend yourself and those you love as gently as you can. Light your candle when it burns out.
Safe travels on the sea.
