basic and grounded

“We should never lose a certain nostalgia
for the desert. If we have nostalgia for the desert,
we’ll be safe in the market place.”

~ Basil Hume, “To Be a Pilgrim : a Spiritual Notebook.”

Just the other day, I made a routine purchase of a grocery item at a nearby convenience store. Because the business is in my neighborhood, the cashier and I recognized each other. This time, beyond the usual pleasantries, I received the sales pitch for a corporate affinity program, requiring my phone number to set me on a track of unknown purchases en route to an unknown amount of additional purchase benefits. Many of you surely know the routine. “All we need is your number, and you won’t get any calls; it just takes a second.” Not wanting to discourage a neighbor, through my hesitation I dutifully responded. While heading for the exit, hearing the next customer get the same sales pitch, and also hearing my phone buzzing with multiple texts from the convenience store’s corporation for some sort of confirmation, I resistantly deleted the texts and blocked their number. So there. Too many exploiters enrolling too many sets of statistics into their schemes. Neither would I have gone looking for this, nor would I have rung up enough purchases to earn a pittance.

While running my errands, trying to support local businesses, I’m noticing more cash purchases and occasional incentives- such as eateries that offer discounts for those paying with actual currency. Apparently, there are others who like to keep things simple and immediate. Indeed, being a person of words and observations, my thoughts turned to representing simpler forms of dealing with this world. At every hand, including the devices in our hands, there’s much more than enough to convolute time. And attention. The more perceptive among us determine our own boundaries, and even our own “detection systems.” I’ve visited a few places of worship that pipe in streamed music, lest anyone experience a scintilla of silence. In response, I’ve tactfully walked out, getting away from distrust, and preferring the openness of the outdoors. Imagine having to decompress from what purports to be contemplative! Subtle, profound “pushback” is to cultivate simple faith. Keep things uncomplicated and unfettered; along with that, continue observing and noticing.

Catching up with a colleague, I got us a table, and while waiting for him I very naturally pencilled some thoughts in my journal. By the time he arrived, I was already sketching out this essay’s theme. Pencil still in hand, I asked my friend for his definition of simplicity, to which he replied: calm, low-anxiety, and without pressure. Such fascinating responses! He works with people all day, at a position resembling social work. How would an artist define simplicity? Or a tech engineer? Or a housebuilder? How about a summer camp director? Those of us that have read Thoreau’s Walden can recall his theme of simplifying his life was essential to his purpose of better understanding his world. His experiment of living in the woods permitted him to pare away complications, writing his thoughts for later reference- including ours. A key to remaining grounded, albeit on shifting sands, is to appreciate and articulate what is good- insisting upon this and things that are consoling. If possible, savour the tasks and interactions.

In his book, To be a Pilgrim, the Benedictine prelate Basil Hume wrote about the vitality of maintaining a “nostalgia for the desert.” A great metaphor penned by a monastic thinker. “The desert” is not limited to imagery of arid expanses of sands in hot climates. A desert symbolizes a crucible, a void, a circumstance of severe trial. It can manifest as displacement, as absence, There may be a planned and brief duration, or the desert may be indefinite. I think the latter evades the concept of nostalgia. I’d say that an awareness of deserted places and situations can give an individual a first-hand sense of what desolation is like, so as not to be full-of-oneself to the point of selfishness. Calling to memory the more pleasant times of solitude, such as reflective retreats, carry the connotation of nostalgia, positively diverting thought patterns. Strategies to thrive respectfully amidst difficulties, such as in oppressive places of work, put survival skills to the test. What did we all learn from deserted places, and what carries us through deserted places? There are surely individuals we’ve known that continue motivating us, even in their absence. Some of them can still make us laugh. I remember an inspiring neighbor, a Jesuit pastor, who taught me about the word “sincere.” The Latin sincerus has as its root sine cera, which is to say “unwaxed,” or “unvarnished.” Indeed, sincerity is parallel to honesty and being truthful, simply unvarnished, and without any false veneer. The search for meaningful and sustaining opportunities navigates a cruel and undefined desert. Many give up along the trudge, and still more chafe, out of position and underutilized. Perseverance demands a nostalgia for the better aspects of the desert, ever in readiness for what has been impossible to provoke.