Incantation (1998)

Caitríona Reed

Last summer I wrote a short piece, not exactly a poem, a list, an incantation particular to my life as a transsexual woman; though each of us has their own list, particular to themselves:-

Incantation

The Dharma is not to be confused with the means by which it is expressed-except in so far as all expressions can be means to, or mirrors of, the Dharma - Dharma Doors. When we realize the truth in ourselves. It is then to be found everywhere.

A secret is a Dharma Door
Confusion is a Dharma Door
Shame is a Dharma Door
Fear is a Dharma Door
Risk taking is a Dharma Door
Truth-telling is a Dharma Door
Estrogen is a Dharma Door
Tears and laughter are Dharma Doors
Chanting, "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay" is a Dharma Door
Being called 'she' is a Dharma Door
Being called 'he' is a Dharma Door
Disclosure is a Dharma Door
All that is unknown is a Dharma Door
A surgeon's knife is a Dharma Door
Chanting, "thank you, thank you, thank you" is a Dharma Door
A sky so blue it wakes me is a Dharma Door . . .

Perhaps you can make your own list, your own Incantation. It can be a biography, an inventory of what is hidden, what makes you most afraid, or you can proclaim the ways the world, the Dharma, your life, have shown themselves most freely to you.

Joy and pain, success and failure, the myriad miraculous changes of perception, day by day; the hidden chemistry of our lives; the surprise of the unexpected; disappointment and celebration . . . throughout our lives . . . Either they close us, or they open us.

Doesn't everyone know that what is most painful and difficult can become the source of our greatest joy, if we just allow ourselves to be open? It is openness that brings joy, not merely the overcoming of pain and difficulty. In openness we have nothing to hide or fear. We let go of idealism and fixed abstractions.

Is it possible that we are drawn to spiritual practice because we are afraid of being open, lest in openness and the ensuing confusion we are overwhelmed by our own life? Perhaps we are ashamed, perhaps we disapprove of ourselves and want to try to conform to some idea of who we think we ought to be. Or else, out of habit, we want another way to hide. We make our spiritual practice into a set of fixed ideals, and it becomes the very opposite of what we might hope; an elaborate way of closing down.

Don't hide. Don't be afraid. You are stronger than you imagine yourself to be. Your real needs are different from what you think. Consider this life as the only one you have. It's certainly the only one that will look anything like this one. Don't throw it away. Isn't this obvious? Each morsel, each moment is precious. This warm sun has waited several billion years to shine its face on you.

Why is it so easy to make compromises, to pretend not to be afraid, to pretend to know something when you don't? You already know the joy of letting go of who you think you are--even if it's only as a slippery instinct or a vague memory. There is no greater kindness, to yourself and others; from whom you distinguish yourself less and less. And there is sweetness, the lightness of being free.

Being true to yourself, becoming who you already are, is not liberation, in any ultimate sense. But becoming, or trying to become, someone else, is liberation of no kind whatsoever. No one can do the work of self- transformation for you; not can you do it for some imaginary reinvention of yourself.

The Buddha is often called 'The Tathagata'. That title has roots in a word meaning 'such' or 'suchness'. In other words, the Buddha, the one who is awake, is also the one who is just exactly as s/he is, the very suchness of themselves. By our own authenticity we are wakened. Those other qualities we may hunger for--serenity, joy, clarity, non-greed, non-anger, loving kindness and compassion-follow by themselves. In our own embodiment we are made whole. How could it not be?

There's nothing special in being transsexual or queer; nothing special in whatever we happen to be. Our worst secrets are never so terrible that they disqualify us from living. People sometimes tell me I am courageous for being who I am. I feel I am fortunate to have a truth so simple that I am able to live into it, even though it took me decades to come out of hiding. Every closet has a door. May we all be lucky enough to find whatever it is that will insist that we follow the path of our own life.