This Little Rock of Mine

Does His Holiness The Dalai Lama have a small, jagged rock hidden in a tiny corner of his robe?

I mean, he must have one flaw in those maroon folds. It it truly possible to hold unconditional positive regard for everyone—all the time?
Carl Rogers thought we could—he believed healing comes from unconditional acceptance of others we are in relationship with, regardless of what they say or do.

I can do that some of the time.

Much of the time even.

But not all day every day.

I get angry at my son for not calling or texting me back (it’s been three days, but who’s counting). I get mad at my partner for choosing tennis with the guys over dinner plans (we had even chosen the restaurant). And I get upset with family members for posting hurtful things online about my political party (Facebook is already algorithmizing them out of my life).

How did Mother Teresa do it? In her white and sari with its signature blue stripes, did she have one sharp stone tucked into her pocket that she clung to with bony fingers? That one small flaw in her spirit beingness she did not have to give up?

There had to be some moments in Calcutta when just after saying, “Do small things with great love” that she wanted to punch someone.

Mother Teresa would forgive me. This year brought out the worst—maybe a little of the best—in us.

It’s as if God and the universe have giant highlighter pens and they are using them with great flourish: spotlighting our weaknesses and sorrows, our dismays and failings—even conflicts that we didn’t realize were as systemic as they are. Yet those highlighters also show our ability to reflect, to be present, to cure, and to heal.

I have my own highlighter I like to use now and then—mostly to track the failings of those I love. Back when I had an active alcoholic in my life, I used to circle days with drinking on the calendar—as if me tracking them would somehow clarify that formula of addiction that I didn’t understand.

But me highlighting others’ flaws does not help me get to peace. Somehow I know that peace can only be found in a clear, unencumbered heart.

Because I work in the non-profit sector, I work with a lot of people who spend their lives lifting up others. And elevating people and communities is tiring work. But a colleague recently shared Emily Dickinson’s poem “Hope is a Thing with Feathers” with our team in a meeting:

“Hope” is the thing with feathers – That perches in the soul – And sings the tune without the words – And never stops at all…I've heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest sea - Yet, never, in extremity - It asked a crumb of me.

Hope is a thing with feathers. Hope is light and airy and full of forgiveness and grace. Hope is what filled out Mother Teresa’s robes. And it does not ask a crumb of us.

In fact, maybe it’s not a rock, but a crumb in The Dalai Lama’s pocket. Maybe it was a rock at one time, but it has worn down over the decades. Or perhaps it’s a crumb left from a biscuit that someone handed him one day on the street. A biscuit that was handed him with great love.