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I HAVE been
reflecting on the polarity that many of us believe to exist
between the 'contemplative' and the 'activist'. The prevalent
notion is that one excludes the other; that they are two
distinct ways of being; that every individual must make a choice
between them while defining his or her identity. Recently, I
read is an article by Vicki Robin and Joe Dominguez, in which
they said. "Activists are leaning that they must also nurture
themselves and their relationships; mediators are learning that
they must also act".
Many
who have meditated over a long period report a growing
discomfort as their practice deepens; it takes the positive form
of "moving to the verb", towards action. And what are the words
that the activist, so busy righting all wrongs, tries to ignore?
Perhaps these words of Kafka: "Stay at your table and listen.
Don't even listen, just wait; be completely quiet and alone. The
world will offer itself to you to be unmasked". Today people who
would ordinarily be silent are being thrust into campaigns for
the environment, for human rights. It seems harder, though, for
those in the thick of action to step back and reflect.
Some
can doubtless respond to the wisdom of Buddhghosha; "He who is
strong in concentration, week in energy is overcome by idleness,
since concentration partakes of the nature of idleness. He who
is the opposite is overcome by distractions. Therefore, they
should be made in balance to one another; from balance comes
contemplation and ecstasy". Teachers in all traditions have
understood the need for' whole persons". One wise swami would
assign an intellectual seeker the task of peeling potatoes or
rolling out stacks of chapatis. To the hands on, sweat-it-out
who came to the ashram, he gave the job of research. The balance
between these two aspects of our identity can come through the
intervention of a wise guide or teacher, or through our own
Inner Teacher awareness or some sudden, awakening event.
An
ancient story from the Chinese master Chuang Tzu tells of Shan
Po who did not act for gain like other people. Unfortunately he
met a hungry tiger who killed and ate him. Another man, Chang
Yi, was quite the opposite, and lived an active life. He
developed an internal fever and died. Chuang Tzu observes: “Shan
Po looked after what was on the inside and the tiger ate up his
outside. Chang Yi looked after what was on the outside and the
sickness attacked him from inside. In my own life, I am aware of
long phases when my thinking, analytical identity slides into
reflection and then into contemplation. As this intensifies, I
find a growing need to move, to act on my insights, to begin
something, to involve myself, to invite the involvement of
others. This is cyclical, as will process is. Then, the intense
build-up of my action leads to a point where, if I don't
consciously slow down and rein in the activist identity, my body
in its wisdom will fling up cautioning illness; it will insist
that I listen".
Nature or Consciousness will not tolerate any imbalance for
long.
By Marguerite
Theophil
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