View From the Top > Esteemed Reader

It is the dawn. Arise, my Beloved.Little by little, drink the nectarand sound the harp. —Attar

The person in front of you is more important than you are. —aphorism

Esteemed Reader of Our Magazine:In the face of our Beloved, a panoply of emotions rise like vapor from the simmering pot of attentive regard. A liquid, sublimely subtle spectrum of feeling flows—gratitude, joy, relief, remorse. With this utter openness, even the suffering inflicted by the beloved has a savory sweetness. We see beauty in details. The heart is stirred by little gestures—a hue of irony passing in a flash across her face; the way a wisp of hair has departed from the rest, tracing a graceful arc over delicate skin. And we see her beauty not because it is something new, but because of new perceptivity.

This fine regard for our Beloved is like a latent sense—a seventh sense—that was always there, awaiting activation. This heightened acuity leads to new insights. Meaning explodes from what was previously mundane. We become content to bask in her presence and suddenly enjoy the rich impressions that were always already there. She looks, sounds, smells, tastes, and feels good—a perception of goodness that was already present in us, just sleeping.New, creative actions surge from this feeling of loving. We are inspired to give her what she wants. We delight in predicting her needs and filling them, even before they become apparent to her. We crave her comfort, feel a protective impulse, want to hold her, like the Ramayana monkey-hero Hanuman nestles Sita and Ram in the sanctuary of the spaceless, timeless locale behind his sternum. With this attentive disposition, our previously potent personal desires and agendas lose imperative and her desires become ours.

There is a lesson in this in-love-disposition that every even half-awake embryo of a soul can recognize. It is a model of how it is to be awake. It represents a state that we seek from the first breath—a state of union, connection. It is the magical conjoining of ourselves with Life. Here, alchemical ingredients combine in the right conditions and produce an unsurpassable nectar. This ambrosia imbibed permeates our being and we find ourselves transformed. We find we can slither free of limiting ideas. The old resentment and discontent become like so much discarded skin.

But we needn’t wait to fall in love to taste the nectar of true regard. Knowing the recipe, we can combine the components to make it, and cultivate unconditional interest that is not limited to a particular beloved, but is available to all. Little by little, all becomes the beloved.

Though the fulfillment of this utterly free temperament is far from our ordinary complexion, we can approach it in small steps through the application of practices and principles that reflect its qualities. We can act-as-if and approach the genuine state through its signs.

First, we can yield; recognize when our petty self-will—likes and dislikes, preferences, desires—is an obstacle to dancing in true relationship. We can practice letting others have their way and allow ourselves not to be terrorized by the petty tyrants of our acquired compulsions. We can yield. Not because we are giving in to others—not acquiescing—but because we are practicing freedom, practicing relating, practicing getting into the flow of Life. Yield. Not only on the road, where we are obliged by law, but in little ways, so that we begin to notice and honor the fragile trajectories of Life in its insatiable, inherent urge to be fulfilled.

And we can serve. Not in some dramatic, saintly manner, but with our attention. We can look at the floor and see it needs sweeping. And sweep it. Look at the plant and see it needs water. And water it. We can look at our friend and see he needs listening. And listen to him. Serve, holding no amount of attention back. Give it all (and all will be given). It is only by being truly generous with our attention that we can develop the inner strength to traverse the “undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns” and withstand “the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” (Shakespeare).

Perhaps you think this sounds trite or unrealistic in the face of the suffering and cruelty that abound in the world. But I say it is the only approach that can work. We can make a new world that is based not on selfishness and ignorance, but on attention and giving. Serve all, truthfully, honestly, positively. Be awake to the beauty and suffering that are everywhere. Perceive freshly, in the moment. The senses are always open, inviting us to receive the bountiful abundance of the world, and to be in love. —Jason Stern

Department of Corrections

In our June issue, we did not divulge that the cover image had appeared at the Center for Photography in Woodstock as part of the “Photography Now 2003” exhibition, March 27-May 25, juried by Therese Mulligan. The photo appeared courtesy of W.M. Flynt Gallery, New York City.

Hildegard Edling sent us a note about our assertion in last month’s food history, “Apple Cider Wishes & Shad Dreams,” that there was no evidence of community cookbooks' having been compiled after 1990. Thanks to Ms. Edling for alerting us to Heritage Cookbook, Commemorating our 125th Anniversary, 1872- 1997: Hometown Recipes from Tivoli, New York.

On page 113 of our June issue, we misnamed a photo by George Tice. The correct title is Coastal Gas Station, Perth Amboy, NJ, 1996. Tice's photographs were on exhibit at the Art Forms Gallery in Woodstock in June. Art Forms: 679-1100.

Luc Sante wrote in correcting Sparrow’s reference in his June column to Alexander the Great’s meeting with a yogi. In fact, Alexander the Great didn’t meet a yogi at all, but Diogenes the Cynic. Their conversation, as translated by Guy Davenport, is as follows:

ATG: I AM ALEXANDER THE GREAT.

DTC: I AM DIOGENES THE DOG.

ATG: THE DOG?

DTC: I MUZZLE THE KIND, BARK AT THE GREEDY, AND BITE LOUTS.

ATG: WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU?

DTC: STAND OUT OF MY LIGHT.

Our apologies for all lapses and omissions.