Journal of Sacred Work

   "You have not grown old, and it is not too late/ to dive into your increasing depths/ where life calmly gives out its own secret." Rainer Maria Rilke (translated by Robert Bly)

   We who seek a lot from life are insatiable. Like the painter at left (mimicked coincidentally by a piece of crumpled paper in the foreground) we are forever reaching for more.

   We keep asking the old, big questions and finding new answers every day. None of the answers seems satisfactory for long.

   Shallow water holds no mystery. We dive deeper, swim closer to the bone. Perhaps, we plunge into the gritty marrow where life holds her rawest threats and richest secrets.

   "You see, I want a lot." Rilke writes. "Perhaps I want everything…"

   We lovers of Rilke-like quests exhaust others who gave up early and live pining for the weekend or for retirement by which time their life's "own secret" may have further receded from view. 

   Exhaustion, repetitive work, and oppressive work environments can suck the energy from our days if we give in. Veteran caregivers may forget the energy they felt at the beginning.

   Do you remember your first day of work? Do you recall your anxiety-laced excitement as you entered something completely new?

   There is no exact moment when the work turns routine. Gradually, something in us collapses and we default to the easy patterns.

   A job is just a job, right? Why dive deeper? 

   The best among us follow Emily Dickinson's dictum: "We must always keep the door ajar, ready for the ecstatic experience."

   When that moment arrives, the finest among us don't just stand and watch. They wrap their souls with light and dive in.

   How does experience yield moments of light? During a lunch with two veteran obstetricians I asked each why they had chosen their specialty. "It's something I discovered I could do," the first doctor told me. His bored expression confirmed that his door to ecstacy had slammed shut.

   The second doctor said, "I've delivered hundreds of babies and I'm fascinated everytime. I love helping a new person onto the stage."

   "What if the delivery goes badly?" I asked. 

   "That's part of the tension. In hard cases, I dig deeper. It's heartbreaking…and I'm a better physician afterwards."

   Between these two doctor's dull and bright perspectives lies the half-light most people occupy. We move through our days doing the best we can, like it or not.

   One day, if our "door is ajar" we may be startled into seeing the ordinary in an extraordinary way. Driving a familiar road we may encounter an accident that jars us into rediscovering our caregiving as a calling. 

   Like auto accidents, epiphanies occur unexpectedly. When they do, can we find the strength to dive deeper into the secret our life holds calmly in its hands?

-Erie Chapman

Photograph – "Crumpled Paper and Painter" copyright Erie Chapman 2011