A few weeks ago, I cut my finger using a mandolin kitchen tool. I was trying to prepare sliced fruit for a celebration at my home. Hours before guests were to arrive, blood gushed from the top of my right thumb, and in the interest of being alive for my guests, I dashed off to Urgent Care for treatment. I arrived back home with an hour to spare before guests rang my doorbell; with a bandaged finger and a reminder of my vulnerability I made light of the incident. I typically heal quickly from injury, so I was not surprised that after only a couple of weeks, the wound seemed to heal –on the surface. But the thumb remains tender to the touch, even though the surface appears restored and sealed.
The internal healing will take a bit more time. I realize that I must be patient with the process, because everything is always as it should be in life and healing. We may feel pain for a while, but there’s no need to hold on to it, since healing starts quickly — from the outside in. Deep hurts are slower to heal on the inside. As we manage the impressions we make on others, we sometimes conceal the pain with smiles and avoidances, but with steadfast belief in the inward sanctuary, the inevitable healing occurs.
For me, the internal and external healing is a metaphor for change. We cannot hurry it along, believing that because it looks good on the surface, the internal workings are moving in perfect symmetry. Everything is as it should be, even if our perceptions and stories try to convince us that the world is broken or damaged or unsafe. The pace of the change helps us to be stronger and more in touch with what is our core being, the I am where who we really are sits in quiet perfection. The slowness of the change helps us to savor the present moment, to allow the asymmetry between who we are and what we are experiencing to come into alignment with each other.
The internal sensitivity of my thumb is also a metaphor for the story we create about loss. We see daily the loss of life, wealth, status, relationships, and reputation, and we sometimes use those conditions to lament the temporary and somehow unsafe nature of life. We become melancholy about the seeming “death” of aspects of our lives and ignore the birth of life all around us. In fact it is the endings that make the beginnings possible. Each moment is a beginning, and our only reality. Life is an eternal continuation; death and loss are simply tipping points where a growing awareness transforms.

One of the definitions of subject according to my Merriam Webster app on my phone is “that of which a quality, attribute, or relation may be affirmed or in which it may inhere.” We are subjects in life, not the objects that we imagine ourselves to be. We are “inherently” spirits being. We aren’t separate bodies moving around until the music we’re dancing to stops. We don’t have a life, we are life. We don’t lose a life; there is nothing to lose. All else is an illusion. As Thoreau has said, “The world is but a canvas to the imagination.” We bring essence to life experience in how we express who we are.
What does it mean to be a subject? As subject, we let go of the imagined need to know happiness; we experience joy in the present moment, because in the consciousness of now there is deep abiding peace. As an object we would believe that happiness, even joy lies outside of the self, so we would desperately seek it somewhere else. But sometimes we miss the joy of the moment because of our relentless search for that which we already have. We look for the right conditions, the right person, the right career, the right amount of money, and we are often disappointed. Like fish in the ocean looking for water, we are fed continually as the spirits being who we are. We think love is something we receive or give, but we are love. To paraphrase a Gandhi statement, “Be the love you want to see in the world.”
John Stuart Mill captures the state of illusion that occurs when we see ourselves as objects rather than subjects. He said, ” Ask yourself if you are happy, and you cease to be.” By asking yourself the question, you have made yourself an object, not the aware, conscious spiritual energy that you are. Happiness is a reflection in the mirror, an afterthought, based on a memory of some event that we now regard as happy. Joy is present in the now, always and eternally present. We realize who we really are in the stillness of consciousness. We can be happy, joyful and at peace as subject, whose very essence creates the possibility of life expression. Zen expresses this notion exquisitely: If a tree falls in the forest, it does not make a sound unless we hear it. Nature is a gift if we are here to witness it.
Own your state of being “subject.” Settle into the stillness of being and know that you are love, joy, peace and beauty – a veritable blessing in the universal mind.

Ben Zander, conductor of the Boston Philharmonic Orchestra says that he wants his musicians to be “one buttock” virtuosos. He wants them to be so ‘at one’ with the undulations and rhythms of the music that they cannot sit flatly and technically in their chairs. Instead, Zander wants them to lift one buttock in synchrony with the textures of the music. I’ve seen excellent musicians move with the music, but the ones that speak to my heart, seem to be unable to contain themselves. They merge with the sounds and embrace the spirit of the silence. Like a romantic encounter where two lovers connect with each other’s spirit, these music lovers remove the boundaries between the player and the played, the music and the musician.
I remember visiting Blues Alley in Georgetown when I lived in the Washington, DC area. I entered the deep, cavernous venue of Blues Alley to hear the genius of Dizzy Gillespie, Marcus Roberts or Wynton Marsalis. I usually positioned myself as close to the stage as possible, close enough to touch the spirit of the performer. But the trumpet or trombone or piano was as much a performer as the hands that lovingly communed with it. The instrument was alive and the musician honored that life that was waiting to be expressed. Often the energy was so palpable that the stage seemed to rise, as I tried to sit comfortably in my seat. But invariably, I would lean to one side, as the player reached a crescendo or when the music stopped suddenly in the middle of a set, to allow the penetrating silence to send the crowd into a frenzy. Every time, without fail, I was having a one buttock experience.
I have experienced African drumming, or the Alvin Ailey dancers, or a captivating song on the radio, and I cannot sit quietly on two buttocks! I have read a beautifully passionate poem or a philosophical treatise on life and faith, and the sheer joy makes me rise out of my chair.
Music shows up in many forms in our lives. We don’t just make music, we are the music of our lives. When we embrace a one buttock life, we live and move and have our being.

Whenever I find myself wandering in a forest of many paths to choose, particularly career choices or directions, I reflect on what I have experienced that gives me joy. I reflect on what it feels like to lose myself in the present moment, and to forget what needs to be done in favor of the experience of Now. Sometimes I feel the call to write, not to delude myself into thinking that I can change what others think or do, but to reveal my own spirit. It’s a pull that sends me deeper into joy even if I cannot adequately express the pull in words. It’s an invitation to remember who I really am. My heart opens and what I say is less important than basking in the inexpressible peace that I feel. Some would call this experience mindfulness or insight, but I call it inconceivable joy. The Japanese word for this idea is Zenkei (pronounced Zen-kay) but even if there is a word for it, the experience is pure, boundless, inexpressible joy.
I have a similar experience when I facilitate a retreat or communicate even informally with a group. During those experiences, I forget myself, an experience of no-self; and any physical pain or discomfort, self-consciousness, or attachment to approval or outcomes melts away. I feel whole yet indefinable, one with Spirit.
Back in 1986 Kenneth Homan wrote an article on careers entitled, “Vocation (Careers) as the Quest for Authentic Existence.” I suggest that the experience of inconceivable joy is authentic existence. Being still opens the door so that my spiritual beingness can step into that joy. Then, the paths choose me, call me like Oriah Mountain Dreamer’s The Invitation to be still and know Zenkei.
What calls you to inconceivable joy?