Divine Current

Last night we went to the Cinema to see a Haitian movie. It was made in the U.S. by the Diaspora in Kreyol. The production values were not the highest and the story was simple, but it was moving nonetheless, perhaps especially because I know that Ted’s cousin was trying to show us Haitian culture and a Haitian movie. It was difficult to watch, or hear, rather, because it was part in French, part in Kreyol, and part in English—and mostly a mixture of the three. Sometimes an English word is thrown into the middle of a string of Kreyol words. I didn’t understand a lot of it, but the story was shot plainly enough to understand the archetypes and the through lines, though it did force me to really listen.
It was called “Profond Regrets”, which is translated as it appears to English readers. We then did two things I thought I would never do: be out at night and drive at night. The movie started at 6:30, so it was dark when we left the theater. It was not easy driving, mostly because it is hard to see those gigantic potholes in the road. Fortunately, the route is by now very familiar and so we had no problems.

Yesterday, Thay announced that we had no more water (which was obvious to us and, regrettably, to our guests). He cleaned out the now-empty cistern and promised a truck would come with water to fill it up for us. I was waiting to see when that would happen, as we still had no electricity from the city. Food is still spoiling in the fridge, though we plug it in for a few hours a day. It is a waste and a shame.

Ted’s relatives continue to send us food everyday. It seems there is no stopping their expressions of kindness, nor should we try. We have all of our food taken care of here at the house, so I feel sort of bad receiving extraneous food, but I would feel bad not eating it as well. They express their high regard for Ted by coming everyday with bowls of meat, beans and rice, vegetarian legumes (spinach and tomatoes made especially for my dietary needs), spicy cole slaw, and various sugary juices. And I think they also want to share in the World Cup matches with him. His family is trying to help us fit in and experience life here as smoothly as possible; it is a beautiful thing. Ted’s uncle drove us around the city to see the National Palace and other minor sites the other night, just because we showed interest in the park near to his home. I know that all of our families back home would do the same, but I also know that at home all of our families live richly in comparison to the people here. There is something about Haitian hospitality that knows no equal. It reminds me of the reading for this morning, about Elijah and the old widow: “Go ahead and make food for me, your guest, and you will not run out of food for the whole year.” I am not sure where how they manage it, but they treat guests better than themselves. This is a charism of the people here, this hospitality.

The Brazil match was an important event in the neighborhood yesterday. Groans and shouts of joy at their goals were heard everywhere, one big wave of cheering that sounded like a stadium in surround sound. Most Haitians favor Brazil for the Cup. There is a strange simpatico between the two countries, especially since the U.N. security forces are from Brazil. Brazil came to play Haiti’s national team in an exhibition match last year or so, which was a very popular event.

I read some more wonderful words last night about St. Therese de Lisieux that relate to what I have been thinking about in my writings here. Hans Urs von Balthasar, in his biography of the saint, had this to say: “’Yes, I believe I have always searched for truth. Yes, I have always understood how to keep my heart quiet,’ [wrote Therese]. Such is humility, which holds her on the narrow ledge between the abyss of truth on one side and that of lying on the other. Such humility is no virtue, but the sign that one possesses no virtue, since it ‘all flows from him.’….She does not produce the light, she reflects it….’ My soul also appears to be radiant and golden because it is exposed to the rays of love.’”

This reflection reminds me of the concept of yielding that I have been exploring the last few days: the light comes in from the divine (the divine glance which looks at us, and constantly) and is brought through those who empty themselves for its passing. This requires the cessation of judgment in one’s mind, the practices of emptying oneself in all its aesthetic and ascetic forms, and quietude, even unto being virtueless. One receives all virtuousness not simply by practicing it, but by practicing it until it becomes effortless—until we have be-come it, or until we have truly real-ized or in-carnated, em-bodied, it, whether through arduous ascent or Zen-quick, augenblick, en-light-enment.

It is active passivity, or passive activity. To hold the current of light we must become the wire able to connect to it; the state of the solid wire is that it can indeed transfer such electricity and has made a connection to the source of all things, the God-Being, and, to take the analogy one step forward, the very ground of Being itself: it is the wellspring and the ocean, and every point in between, Alpha and Omega. The current must be channeled through something solid, incarnated, in each person, as connected to the source and grounded in it as well. Beginning and end. Source, flow, and ground.

The Psalm I read last night, 131, which strangely I was reading for the first time and which I have dubbed the “Meditator’s Psalm,” says this most simply:

“Lord, my heart is no proud;
My eyes are not haughty.
I don’t concern myself with matters too great or awesome for me.
But I have stilled and quieted myself,
just as a small child is quiet with its mother.
Yes, like a small child is my soul within me.

O, Israel, put your hope in the LORD—now and always.”

Today our electricity was reconnected, though it only was on for a half hour.
The water truck came on time as well.
Two little blessings from God.