Serenity

I thought I’d try something different today. I will practice Oneing, as described by the mystic Julian of Norwich: experiencing union with God.

“Union with God,” may seem a little far-fetched to the vast majority of people, including Christians—although it’s likely that Buddhists have already reached that state, let’s call it, “self-emptying,” and we Christians are trailing behind.

It’s amazing that most religious people don’t practice Oneing, because the very Latin word, “religio”, from which “religion” is derived, means to “reconnect.”

We Christians have a perfectly adequate myth to describe disconnection with The One: the story of Eve (First Lady) being deceived by a serpent into eating an apple, and persuading Adam (First Man), in turn , to do likewise. For this apparent misdeed, the entire human race disconnected from God and now lives in a state of separation.

I’m not entirely convinced of the literal facts of the story of Adam and Eve—so don’t tell my friends who are convinced it’s true—but I sense there is a deeper truth: that once this soul of mine was connected to the cosmos, and maybe by choice now lives a separate identity, with a deep longing to be one with the One once again.

So what did Oneing look like today?

 I deployed all my senses. I found a twig covered in lichen and moss, and I touched it with a deeper awareness of its texture. There was something very  healing in that connection. It would be ridiculous to say I became the twig—but it’s not too far-fetched to say I knew it to be exactly what it is, and that brought me joy. 

From touch to smell: it has rained heavily for two days here in Redmond, and the lakeside woodland was giving up a delicious scent. Laugh if you must—it would be ridiculous to say I became the woodland—but I stayed for a few moments with the presence of the forest.

Sight:what did I see? A bright blue sky quietly surrounded by forest. In the distance, mountains. Beneath  the trees on the green, a group of women slowly moving through Tai Chi poses. Swimmers heading for shore. A mother with her baby in a buggy, returning his gaze. It would be ridiculous to say I became a mountain or rolled in with the lake—but I looked upon those things with great pleasure, and I felt a desire to tell all those people how much they are loved.

Often at times like this, I look around me at natural beauty and I give thanks for the bouquet of the day—wild, asters this morning- and an orchestra. Today that was different birds going about their business with varying degrees of tuneful intensity. It would be ridiculous to say I became the  orchestra—but I conducted it in my heart, and I bowed to the beauty around me.

I finished my time sitting on a branch that reached out into the lake. It would be ridiculous to say I became God—but in truth, I felt His presence in the silence and in the song. 

And I believe I understood what Lady Julian meant when she spoke of

Oneing.