Yield: “Give in Return”

Yield: “Give in Return”

To open a door is one thing; to step through the door is another. Spiritual truth opens a door, and what is revealed can inform one’s life in astounding ways. Exposure to the basic principle of cosmic inseparability can have immediate and profound impact on the components of normal human suffering and anxiety. Personal psychological conflict and strife can drop away virtually overnight. But there may, perhaps, be a degree of difference between a psychological revelation and a spiritual revolution. Psyche basically refers to “mind,” and spirit refers to “breath.” The breath is ephemeral, formless, dispensable—never gained back in the same way it was given. The psychological benefits of a spiritual inquiry (such as “peace of mind”) are manifold—and ever-presently accessible. This element is generally the particular attraction for those whose primary concern is the cessation of their private agony. Some find it possible, up to a point, to alleviate the tension of profane existence without having to significantly reorder their circumstances or to surrender any of the private ground previously “gained.” But the full breath of spirit is similar to the ocean: what you scoop up is proportional to the capacity of the vessel you bring to the beach. In other words, the bounty is there—as much as you apply for. The critical element is not so much the size of the vessel, but how empty it is for reception. Emptiness (in this context) can be equated to surrender (in another context). To surrender means “to give up; yield,” whatever completely yields all content is empty. To yield all content, in this context, would be to surrender to the

“spirit.” It means to penetrate beyond one’s personal, psychological contentment and satisfaction. It means not merely opening an expansive door and peering in awe within; it means stepping through the door. This has sometimes been likened, in spiritual writings, to “falling into the Void.” It is to move, without resistance, from the known to the unknown. Since all that we normally know is temporal worldliness, it is to leave the mundane world behind. And this is not meant to seem entirely metaphorical. An acquaintance, nearing death, refused medication: her doctor said, “Are you prepared to die today?” In spiritual terms, that becomes more than a rhetorical question. “Awakening” and “illumination” are synonymous descriptions (and synonymous occurrences). It is not illumination that lights your way, it is illumination that lights the way—through the unknown, one step at a time. It’s not a freedom to locate personal contentment. It’s the freedom to cross each bridge as we come to it, and to watch it burn behind us—without dismay. It is to be open, exposed, vulnerable; it is to face one’s very worst fears from moment to moment, without lingering. There is no one, who ever lived, who did not eventually surrender all: some while they could yet experience the freedom. While enlightenment is often considered to remain tantalizingly in the future, surrender is an apparent (all too apparent) possibility now. In following the uncommon light, however, one lives an uncommon life. To go where you have not been before, you have to leave completely where you’ve been. And you

cannot know, for certain, what awaits you there—pro or con.

Said of a life committed to spirit, by Jeff Dietrich:

It is not a job. It is a vocation. It is a prodigal, prolifigate, wasteful adventure. It is an adventure in which you get to give away everything, expecting nothing in return.