A quiet morning revealed the difference between doing and simply being
In the wee small hours of the morning, while the whole wide world is fast asleep…
The rain has stopped. The streets are fresh and warm. The sky is clear. The day begins to form…
The opening lyric to these favorite songs conveys the sensibility of this exceptional morning.
I’m not a morning person. Never have been. While the prospect of greeting the sunrise, having a full and healthy breakfast and feeling the start of a new day is appealing, it hasn’t been enough to satisfy my body’s need for sleep. And I relish the quiet of late nights.
This morning was different. At 5:30 I got up, put on my robe and had a couple strawberries and two Graham crackers with peanut butter. Unusual. Even more so, after raising the window blinds, settling into my recliner, watching wispy-pink clouds drift by and noticing the stillness of the trees, I suddenly realized: I hadn’t even anticipated the day.
No checking emails, formulating plans or recalling concerns; no deciding whether or not to take a shower; not a thought about the date, tomorrow or the future; didn’t even notice my open schedule book. Most unusual! Their absence, the low light and quiet combined to produce the experience of both inner and outer peace.
I’m generally a peaceful person, equanimity is a primary value. I’ve experienced the “peace that passeth understanding—or close to it. But this wasn’t that. “Contentment” comes to mind, but this was different yet. Reflecting on it now, “beingness”—beyond “presentness”—is a better word for it. And that calls up its corollary—”becoming.” The former represents the static state of what is, while the latter references change. It’s dynamic, something in the process of coming to be—like the result of learning or our personal evolution.
Philosophy
According to Google AI (with my editing for brevity): The philosophy of “being” versus “becoming” is one of the oldest debates in metaphysics, centering on whether reality is fundamentally permanent or constantly changing. The debate began in ancient Greece with two contrasting views:
Parmenides (Being): Argued that reality is permanent, unchanging, and eternal. Change is an illusion because something cannot come from nothing.
Heraclitus (Becoming): Argued that change is the fundamental nature of the universe, famously stating that you can’t step into the same river twice.
Aristotle united them through the ideas of “potentiality” and “actuality.” “Being” is what a thing actually is right now—for instance an acorn. “Becoming” is its potential unfolding into something else—the oak tree.
More recently, Jean-Paul Sartre argued that humans don’t have a fixed, permanent essence (“being”). Instead, through our daily choices, we’re constantly inventing ourselves (“becoming”). And in the East, Buddhism generally rejected the idea of a permanent, unchanging “being,” viewing “becoming” (constant flux) as the ultimate reality. Daoism encouraged alignment with the natural, dynamic flow of the universe rather than trying to freeze reality into fixed categories. And Hinduism embraced both absolute permanence and absolute change. While the physical world is always “becoming,” our true identity is the unchanging spiritual “being” underneath it all.
I find it curious that science and philosophy have relied upon analysis to seek understanding. They both separate and divide ideas, objects and processes, the former asking, “How does it work?” and the latter “What does it mean?” It seems obvious to me that for something to become, it must first exist—be. And while in my view being precedes becoming, human beings integrate them by our having inner (subjective) and outer (objective) lives.
Beatrice Bruteau argued that being and becoming are unified through the process of cosmic evolution and human consciousness. “Being,” she wrote, “is not a fixed, unchanging substance, but an active, creative movement of love that continuously flows into “becoming.” To truly experience our “beingness,” we need to shift away from an ego-centered view (“I am this separate thing”) and look at our reality from the inside out—recognizing ourselves as an ongoing, “collective evolutionary stream.”
As a consequence, she didn’t perceive God as a detached, unchanging entity watching from afar, but “actively rising up through the evolutionary process.” Therefore, the constant transformation of both persons and the universe—acts of “becoming”—is the physical manifestation of the divine life expanding ITS consciousness. Further, she taught that Ultimate Being is Unconditional Love.
Consistent with this perspective, a while back I read somewhere that God isn’t a “being,” but Being itself. That resonates.
Unconditional love. Hmm. That’s really what I was experiencing looking out the window this morning—not loving some object, not directing it outward to anything or anyone. Just love—being love and luxuriating in it. If deep silence and stillness is a catalyst for tapping into that, I could become a morning person.
Then again, there’s the body.
We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We’re spiritual beings having a human experience.
Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, S.J.
(Regarding the opening lyrics cited above, I’ve heard several singers perform those songs, but it’s Johnny Mathis’ versions that play in my head. Beautiful!).
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David L. Smith Photography Portfolio.com
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