"When we let go of clinging, then God begins to be." Meister Eckhart

I was rereading some paragraphs from a spiritual memoir this morning and the writer uses this quote to describe some of the lessons she learned while living in a Buddhist monastery in France. Clinging. It is a particularly descriptive word, isn’t it? Can’t you just feel your arms clinch, your knuckles growing white? Clinging. The pulse quickens and heart races at the sound of the word, the implication of the action. The word stirs the fires of panic, of fear, of desperation.

There have been some very dramatic images of clinging on the front pages of newspapers and magazines over these last days. Heads held in hands, brows furrowed, eyes glazed over. Clinging. To what? To a permeable illusion of security? Of safety? Of sanity?

Anyone who has been a parent knows that clinging stilts growth. When a child clings to the security of a parent’s hand or leg, they don’t venture onto the playground that will allow them to grow in new ways. When an older child clings to the security of a parent’s protection, they stifle the rich possibilities the world offers. Likewise when a parent clings to a child they stunt, not only the growth of the child, but their own ability to see themselves as a rich, vibrant person outside the life of the one given into their care. Clinging is rarely, if ever, a good thing.

Meister Eckhart, medieval mystic, goes so far as to say that when we stop clinging, God begins to be. It is with palms open and outstretched that we experience the movement of the Spirit urging us toward wholeness. It is with hearts open and the doors of our mind flung wide that we breathe deeply of the Sacred.

On this beautiful fall day, may we find the courage and the wisdom to open our palms, our minds and our hearts to a world still rich with all that is truly important. May we have moments where clinging ceases and God begins to be.