Oh Well, Whatever: A Prayer for Uncertain Times

There’s a lot going on—in the world, in us. So how do we hold it all? This meditation grew out of a friend’s morning and evening prayer: “whatever” and “oh well.” Simple, honest, maybe even a little funny—but also surprisingly profound. Together we explore what it means to release ourselves into the present moment, to notice what’s well and good even amidst what’s broken, and to make our hearts big enough to hold it all. Includes a reading of Rumi’s “The Guest House" and the Serenity Prayer. I hope you enjoy.

Thank you creative genius, Eric Fischer, for the inspiration.

Transcript

Unknown: 0:10

Hello, friends. I'm recording this at a time when, oh, there's a lot going on in the world, in us, collectively, in many of us, personally, and whenever you're listening to this, there's a chance that that is also true. So how to hold it all? My friend and creative collaborator has a very simple prayer these days. His morning prayer is whatever, and his evening prayer is, oh well, which can sound a little defeatist, but actually, I think there's a lot of beauty and purity in that. So I want to just take a chance here with you to dive a little deeper into whatever and oh, well, whatever for me, invites the idea of allowing whatever is In my perceptual awareness right now to just be so it's a matter of whatever is happening, releasing myself into it that may sound a little abstract, but here's how it works for me. So I might be walking down the street on my way somewhere, lost in my idea of arriving and accomplishing what I need to do there, and then I'll glance up and see tree branches moving in a breeze. And even for a split second, I will just if I'm open and present enough, allow that to stop my mind for a minute, to Just completely release myself into the movement of the branches. And the dance of the shifting negative space between the branches the Sky beyond the perhaps clouds drifting across. And then I continue on my way, but now I'm in a different state of mind. I'm no less committed to my day to what needs to be done, to the steps and the actions I want to be part of this day, but I have, even for a moment, released myself into something Oh, much bigger, timeless, without agenda. Without judgment, pure beauty, pure noticing. This doesn't make me less concerned about the world or my own personal things that I want to address. In fact, it creates more space around those things. It allows me to respond to them I organically, with less agenda, with less certainty and more openness, more awareness to the nuances I may not have noticed before. And so my friend's prayer of whatever is I love I take it as an invitation to be alert for whatever arises that I didn't plan. I noticing a bird singing. Or the simple sensation of my own breath, noticing my aliveness. And even for the barest moment, releasing myself into that it makes me less grasping, less attached to my sense of doom and worry, it invites in some space and some possibility for wisdom and for wise, unpremeditated response. To whatever comes up in the course of my day. There's a poem by Rumi, the Persian poet, along these lines, it's called the guest house translated by Coleman Barks, and it goes like this. This being human is a guest house every morning, a new arrival, a joy, a depression, a meanness. So some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor, welcome and entertain them all, even if they are a crowd of sorrows who vitally. At least sweep your house empty of its furniture. Still treat each guest honorably. He may be cleaning you out for some new delight, the dark thought, the shame, the malice. Meet them at the door laughing and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond. Mmm. And so I welcome the morning prayer of whatever, and the evening prayer of oh, well, oh, well, it's a very honest prayer. So often after the day's news, I feel a sinking sense of a well, I all But those words also invite a sense of curiosity. Oh, is a kind of exclamation of surprise, O which invites some inquiry and curiosity. And the Well, well, it invites me to notice whatever has come into my awareness in the course of this Day, to notice the layers beneath the immediately apparent layers, often when tragic things are happening in the News, there are just beneath those stories, the stories of human beings trying to help each other through it, acts of great kindness and courage that really show the best of the Human Spirit, the best of us that can be brought out by really challenging times. So I'm invited to notice what's well and good, even amidst what's broken. If and tragic, and to make my heart big enough to hold it all and the oh well prayer reminds me of the Serenity Prayer, which I often say I God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. And for me, the things I cannot change often have to do with other people's behavior over whom I have no control. And the things I can change are my response, my courage, my action, my self inquiry, my curiosity, my openness to compassion, I God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the Things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. I and so I invite you friends to hold yourselves gently through difficult times when You find your heart clenching and your mind contracted and your worry intensifying, invite in those moments of Whatever noticing, whatever surprising thing might come into your awareness, the smell of a meal, the feeling of the breeze on your cheek, the the distant sound of a dog barking allow the noticing to create space. To unclench the heart, to open the mind, to free your beautiful spirit to Feeling held by the great beauty of this World. You be well, my dear friend. You