THE HEART'S CONSTANT PROJECTSarah York, Guest Minister, Preaching

UU Fellowship of Vero BeachJanuary 8, 2017

Reading: "Want " by Carrie Fountain

[PICTURE OF WASPS GOES UP ON CHANCEL SCREENS]

The wasps outsidethe kitchen windoware making thatthick, unraveling soundagain, floating inand out of the bald headof their nest,seeming not to movewhile moving,and it has just occurredto me, standing,washing the coffeepot,watching them hangloosely in the air-thinwings; thick, elongatedabdomens; sad, down-pointing antennae – that thisis the heart's constantproject: this simplelearning; learninghow to holdhopelessnessand hope together;to see on the unharmedsurface of onethe great scarof the other; to recognizeboth and to makesomething of both;

to desire everythingand nothingat once and to desire itall the time;and to contain that desirefleshly, in a body;to wash it and rest itand feed it; to learnits name and from whenceit came; and to speakto it – oh, most of allto speak to it – every day, every day,saying to one part,"Well, maybe this is allyou get," while sayingto the other, "Go on,break it open, let it go."

The Sermon: This media thing you do here is very cool.

[PICTURE OF WASPS COMES DOWN. PICTURE OF GOATS IN SNOW GOES UP]

I was intimidated at first when Scott invited me to come up with pictures or quotes to enhancemy sermon, but then I realized it was a great opportunity to share some images from our goatfarm in North Carolina. Beautiful, isn't it?

[PICTURE OF GOATS IN SNOW COMES DOWN; PICTURE OF WINTER SUNRISE GOESUP]

Actually there is another reason for this picture. I want to highlight things I love about winter inNorth Carolina. Like that certain slant of light on the mountains at dusk, and an explosion of pinkecstasy upon a comforter of clouds at dawn. Like the reflection of a full moon on fresh snow,tree branches laden with layers of white stillness. I love the hiss and crackle and aroma oflocust logs burning in the fireplace. Winter is when I enjoy hiking up the mountain and restingmy eyes on a majestic blue ridge panorama screened through acres of forest. I could go on, butyou get the idea. There is much to love about winter. And there are only three things I hateabout it: cold, cold, and cold.

[PICTURE OF WINTER SUNRISE COMES DOWN; PICTURE OF BUDDHA IN SNOW GOESUP.]

My fingers and toes go numb in winter, so I am grateful that my husband Chuck and I havefriends who come after Christmas to take care of our goats so we can come to Florida in ourmotor home for a break from the cold.

[PICTURE OF BUDDHA IN SNOW COMES DOWN; PICTURE OF LONG POINTWATERFRONT GOES UP.]

Last year we stayed in Long Point Campground in Melbourne Beach. Many months before I hadreserved us a nice site on the Indian River, where we would enjoy watching dolphins swim byand observe a variety of wading birds.

But when we arrived at our site after a torrential visit from El Niňo, most of our waterfront sitewas water-logged. We made a decision to move to a higher drier site that was not on the river.There are always cancellations, we were told, and we could check back with the office to see ifa better site came available. Well, I checked back about twice a day, hoping for that perfect bitof waterfront property. After about three days of walking around the campground and envyingthe folks who had those really great sites on the river, I realized that I was spending too muchtime and energy trying to be somewhere else. I heard the lyrics of that Stephen Stills song in myhead: "If you can't be with the one you love, then love the one you're with." Only I said to myself,"If you can't have the site you want, then want the site you have." I gave up checking oncancellations and settled in to enjoy the rest of our vacation.

[PICTURE OF LONG POINT WATERFRONT COMES DOWN; SCREEN BLANK]

You know how it happens. You stop by the grocery store on your way to a meeting and you getstuck in a long line. You decide to change lines because you are in a hurry and another line ismoving faster. But then the person in front of you wants to pay with a check and the managerhas to come and approve it, and you watch the person who was behind you in the first linewalking out the door with his groceries.

We have opportunities on a daily basis to witness ourselves getting all worked up over nothing. Ifind it useful on those occasions to cultivate the Buddhist practice of mindfulness. I talk tomyself. I say, Sarah, you are wearing yourself out trying to be somewhere else. Pay attention towhere you are right now. Be present here in this very moment. Notice the people around you.Smile at them; receive their smiles. Plant yourself where you are. Let go of your notions of howthings should be. Do not be attached to results. Let go of expectations. Open your heart togenerosity and compassion.

[PICTURE OF ZEN GARDEN GOES UP]

I am reminded of the story of a priest who was in charge of a small Zen temple that was famousbecause of its garden. The priest had been given the temple because he liked nothing betterthan tending gardens. A very old Zen master lived next to the temple in another smaller temple.The priest was going to have guests, and he had been busy all morning perfecting his garden. He had raked all the fallen leaves together, and thrown them away. He had sprinkled water onthe moss, he had even combed the moss here and there, he had put down some leaves again,in the right places; and when finally, he stood on his veranda and contemplated his garden, hewas pleased that his garden was, in every respect, as it should be. The old Zen master hadbeen watching the priest's work with interest while he leant on the fence which separated thetwo temples.

"Isn't it beautiful?" the priest asked the master. "My guests will be coming in a little while and Iwant them to find the garden as the monks who originally designed it meant it to be."

The master nodded. "Yes," he said, "your garden is beautiful; but there is something missing,and if you'll lift me over the fence and put me down in the garden for a moment I'll put it right foryou."

When he had lowered the master carefully into his garden the old gentleman walked slowly to atree growing in the centre of a harmonious rock and moss combination. It was autumn and theleaves were dying. All the master had to do was shake the tree a little and the garden was full ofleaves again, spread out in haphazard patterns. "That's what it needed," the master said. "Youcan put me back again."

The story ends there. I think there are times that Zen priest visits each one of us. I don't think heis saying you should not want to create a beautiful garden or to prepare a delicious meal or toshare your skills with excellence; he is reminding you not to become attached to what you want.Life is suffering, said the Buddha. And the more we cling to our desires, the more we suffer.Daily encounters with ourselves in a checkout line, or maybe the mall on Black Friday, arerehearsal for dealing with the bigger things. For dealing with times of grief or illness, for the bigtransitions like a broken relationship or a big move – for the times of true suffering.

[PICTURE OF ZEN GARDEN COMES DOWN; FOLLOWING QUOTE FROM SERMON GOESUP]

If you can't have the body you want…If you can't get the job you want…If you can't have the life you want…

Then want the one you have.

On the other hand, what would we ever accomplish if we did not envision a better life?

[QUOTE COMES DOWN; SCREEN BLANK]

As the poet wrote in this morning's reading, … thisis the heart's constantproject: this simplelearning; learninghow to holdhopelessnessand hope together;…to desire everythingand nothingat once and to desire itall the time;and to contain that desirefleshly, in a body;…and to speakto it – oh, most of allto speak to it – every day, every day,saying to one part,"Well, maybe this is allyou get," while sayingto the other, "Go on,break it open, let it go."

So I am thinking now of two people-a man and a woman who were married in 2007.

[PICTURE OF MARK AND GABBY GOES UP]

They were an unlikely match. She was an overachiever who gave up a high-level job atPrice-Waterhouse to return to Arizona when her parents needed her to run the family tirebusiness. Then she got involved in the community and local politics. At forty, she was a memberof the U.S. House of Representatives. Her husband, a former cop in New Jersey, was astreet-smart Naval pilot who decided he wanted to be an astronaut.

The woman is Gabrielle Giffords. Her husband is Mark Kelly.

While Chuck and I were down here last year, Scott and Collins invited us to a lecture here inthis sanctuary where Gabby and Mark were billed as the speakers. Gabby Giffords is thecongresswoman from Arizona who was shot in the head January 8, 2011 and suffered severebrain damage. Her husband, Mark Kelly, is a former astronaut and commander of the spaceshuttle. They had been married three years. They had it all. They were both ambitious, hard-working risk-takers. They were both called to alife of service. They did not live together, but they spoke to each other daily and supported eachother in their careers, which pretty much consumed their lives. There was just one thing theywanted, and Gabby wanted it quite desperately: a child. Mark, the father of two, had had avasectomy and it was not successfully reversed. They spent a good bit of time in fertility clinicsand had two frozen embryos scheduled for implantation at the time of the assassination attempton Gabby's life.

[PICTURE OF MARK AND GABBY COMES DOWN; PICTURE OF GABBY AND MARK WITHSCOTT GOES UP]

At the lecture we attended here, Mark spoke for about an hour, telling stories of his life and theirlife. He was a New Jersey cop who dreamed of being an astronaut. Dream big, he said. Neverstop trying to achieve what you want, he said. I can recall several stories from his speech. ThenGabby took the podium, and she spoke for just a few minutes. After 5 years of speech therapy,she spoke in whole sentences, but haltingly. After 5 years of physical therapy, she walked, butnot fluidly. I don't recall anything she said. It was mostly upbeat platitudes. It did not matter. Shewas the miracle; she was courage and hope and the power to endure. She was humanity at itsfinest. If she had said, "When life hands you lemons, make lemonade," I would have stood upand shouted, "Amen!"

[PICTURE OF GABBY AND MARK WITH SCOTT COMES DOWN; PICTURE OF GABBYVOTING GOES UP]

I do not know what life is like for Mark and Gabby. Astronaut turned care-giver. Public servantand potential Senator or Governor struggling to communicate. Their longing for a child may be alost dream. On January 8, 2011, Gabby's life as she knew it was over. Mark's life as he knew itwas over. Their life together as they knew it was over. How they longed to have that life back!!!They do not have the life they want, but they are living meaningfully into the life they have. Herrecovery has been a "long, excruciating slog," with breakthrough moments like her first word,her first sentence, her first step. And I shall not forget the first time she returned to congress tocast her vote on a controversial issue.

Gabby and Mark have adjusted for reality and adapted to the new normal over and over, whilecontinuing to work very hard to recover her health. They have given up their high-poweredcareers and use their fame and misfortune to inspire others and to work for legislation that willreduce gun violence.

They suffer, and their suffering has given them what one Buddhist master called "the spiritualwarrior's tender heart of sadness." [PICTURE OF GABBY VOTING COMES DOWN; FOLLOWING QUOTE GOES UP]

We are all spiritual warriors, and our task is to come through our own sufferingwith the tender heart of sadness that deepens our compassion for others.

As spiritual warriors, it is our heart's constant project to hold hopelessness and hope together;to desire everything and nothing at once and to desire it all the time; and to contain that desirefleshly, in a body; and to speak to it – to speak to it every day, saying to one part, "Well, maybethis is all you get," while saying to the other, "Go on, break it open, let it go."

[PICTURE OF QUOTE COMES DOWN; PICTURE OF MARK AND GABBY NEW YEARGOES UP.]

The story halfway through the sermon – about the priest, the Zen Master and the garden – wasfrom:

"The Empty Mirror: Experiences in a Japanese Zen Monastery" by Janwillem van de Wetering