Whatever Happens

Although we who live in North America begin to lose a bit of light every day beginning on the summer solstice, the loss generally is not noticeable until mid August, when suddenly we realize it is getting dark around 8:15 pm. Our eyes are then opened to other signs that autumn is inching toward us: the last of the sweet corn is picked, students start returning to school, and ribbons are awarded at the county fair. Persons who love summer cling to their gardens and outdoor activities as long as possible, while those who favor autumn start dreaming of wearing sweaters and eating pumpkin pie.

At the beginning of the year, the word I chose to focus on was contentment, and the changing of the seasons provides a perfect opportunity to practice that virtue. Although I would prefer to eat home-grown tomatoes all year round, I’ll be much happier if I am content with and grateful for whatever food lands on my plate. Sr. Jeanne d’Arc recently showed me a short poem by Galway Kinnell that succinctly describes an attitude of hospitality to the present moment:

Prayer

Whatever happens. Whatever

what is, is what

I want. Only that. But that.

One of the great benefits of dying to self—letting the self’s desires and preferences wither and drop away—is that we gain the grace to welcome life as it presents itself to us each day, in whatever guise. When whatever happens is what you want, you can’t be disappointed. We say that people with this attitude have few wants, which is true. However, they do still have the desire to embrace and experience life, which is not nothing—but they greet life as a guest instead of trying to manipulate who or what shows us at the door each day. As Robert Frost concludes at the end of his poem The Road Not Taken, “And that has made all the difference.”