Between Heart and Heart, There is a Window

There is a window between heart and heart:
they are not separate like two bodies.
The lamps are different,
but the light is the same.
— Rumi

Of all the things I’ve had to let go of, attending meditation retreats is the one I miss the most.

In a silent meditation retreat, there is little talking or even eye contact. It is hard to imagine if you haven’t done it, and a beautiful thing when you do try it. It is an opportunity to see inside to how your mind is busy: judging, comparing, doubting, desiring, pushing away — endlessly creating the veneer you take to be you. You realize that the busy mind can get in the way of truly experiencing other beings walking on this earth, breathing and aspiring, with fears and anxieties, and longing to be happy. You sit with friends and strangers in retreat and realize there is a sameness to the journeys, the struggles, and to the awakening to freedom from those struggles. The window between hearts is opened. It is truly remarkable that folks can spend ten days or so not interacting directly, but sharing space in an open and peaceful way and at the end have a sense of connection like no other.

I wrote the lyrics below at the end of one of my retreats. It draws on imagery of a great being of compassion — the Buddhist hero, Avalokiteśvara (known as Kuan-yin in China and Chenrézig in Tibet). This great being emanates compassion and has a thousand arms with an eye in the palm of each hand. Only eyes to see the suffering of the world and arms to reach out with compassion. A retreat experience can open one to this great Love.

Only Hands and Eyes

Patience and interest and kindness and love
even so, I might never see you.
So I went to the temple to find you.
I think I went to the temple to find you.
When I went to the temple I found
you, the one who knows, the nameless.

Our beloved eyes are shining
and smiling at the corners.
Ever so gently we point to now
where to embrace is like all one.
Only hands and eyes seeing clearly.
Only hands and eyes holding softly.

Patience and interest and kindness and love
even so, I might never see you.
So I went to the temple to find you.
I think I went to the temple to find you.
When I went to the temple I found
you, the one who knows, the nameless.

Between heart and heart, there is a window.
There is a window between heart and heart.
When the heart window opens
and the mind’s guards are down,
all in all is all we all are;
all eyes and hands, we are beloved.

Patience and interest and kindness and love
even so, I might never see you.
So I went to the temple to find you.
I think I went to the temple to find you.
When I went to the temple I found
you, the one who knows, the nameless.

We have heard each other laugh and cry
and received each others’ many kindnesses.
Sat beside each other in reverence —
brothers and sisters in emptiness.
When the heart window is open
and all the guards are down,

all hands and eyes, we are beloved.

Patience and interest and kindness and love
everywhere I look, now, are windows. And

our beloved eyes are shining
and smiling at the corners.
Ever so gently we point to now
where to embrace is like all one.
Only hands and eyes seeing clearly.
Only hands and eyes holding softly.

When the walls of heart and mind
are down, we are beloved. And
our beloved eyes are shining
and smiling at the corners.

Now, when I read this poem of years ago, it reminds me of those retreats, but more closely of my spiritual friends. I see them morning and night, usually online, in meditation groups and classes. Together we hold space for the beloved — where we know for certain we are essentially both loving and loved and that is all. Whenever we meet, our eyes are shining and smiling at the corners. Can you feel that? You are loved deeply. You love deeply. That gentle opening where love settles in like gravity and there is trust in an unnamable embrace.

In the heavens I see your eyes,
in your eyes I see the heavens.
— Rumi

~

The Essential Rumi, translations by Coleman Barks