Digging with Doubt

It’s not complicated. We’re here to learn to love ourselves, each other, the animals, the plants, and the Earth. I often get confused and think I’m here to be right.

Being right is complicated. There are so many details to figure out. Right according to whom? What evidence shows that I’m right? How can I guarantee that I remain right as circumstances shift? How can I convince others that I’m right?

Loving is an action, something we do in communion with others. Being right is a state that we try to attain or achieve. We can’t offer or share it; we can only claim and grasp it for ourselves. We can step into love at any moment. We can chase being right all of our lives, but we will never catch that illusion.

In his poem “The Place Where We Are Right,” Yehuda Amichai writes,

“From the place where we are right
flowers will never grow
in the Spring.”

Being right isn’t life-giving. If there’s anything that’s clearly, biologically designed into all of us who share this creation, it’s that we are here to give life.

“…doubts and loves
dig up the world
like a mole, a plough.”

This might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said about doubt, who tends to get a bad rap in our certainty-obsessed culture. Amichai isn’t referring to doubt about our sacredness, our indwelling divinity, but rather to that moment when we reconsider something we had always thought to be true, when we see the humanity in someone we had judged harshly.

That is the moment we wake up to our nature as love, which is the flow of life through our world and through the universe. We need to dig up our worlds. We need to turn over the soil of our lives and see that just under the surface they are teeming with love.


Note: The blog will be on vacation next week. Wishing you a lively flow of love during that time.

Doubts and Loves

One of the nice things about days like Earth Day is that people use it as an excuse to get together and do kind things for creation or each other. A local farm had a fair, and there I ran into this poem that a friend of my mom’s had included on a piece of art. It took my breath away.

The Place Where We Are Right
by Yehuda Amichai

From the place where we are right
Flowers will never grow
In the spring.

The place where we are right
Is hard and trampled
Like a yard.

But doubts and loves
Dig up the world
Like a mole, a plow.
And a whisper will be heard in the place
Where the ruined
House once stood.

Richard Rohr often talks about necessary suffering, not my favorite phrase or concept. He defines suffering not as something awful happening to us but rather as any time we’re not in control. In one fell swoop, this poem makes clear why that’s so: “The place where we are right/Is hard and trampled/Like a yard.” I can feel the compacted earth under my feet.

It astonishes me to consider that “doubts and loves” combined provide the way forward. How often do we consider those as related to one another? We generally much prefer loves to doubts but here they are, intertwined, working together toward the same purpose.

This combination might say something about what love really is, a question that comes up for me when people say “God is love” or Jim Finley talks of “infinite love infinitely giving itself away as our every breath and heartbeat.” Love, this poem argues, is an openness, an availability, an invitation, a movement. It is dynamic, changing, and it is only love if we allow it to change us, to dig up the earth of our hearts.

Perhaps love and doubt are in a dance where each opens the door for each other. I imagine any couple whose relationship has deepened over the years has had to hold and accept some doubts about each other and in that process has grown in love.

Meister Eckhart says that we all share the same ground of being and that our ground is God’s ground. Let’s get some moles and plows into that ground.