The Oak: Resting in the Arms of the Divine

My naive little 5 year old self, already lost in the confusion and uncertainty of life, decided one day that she must be bad, so bad that God herself had turned away, rejecting her completely. She wasn’t sure why this happened, what she did to make God so angry with her. She just knew that somehow or another, she was bad. 

It started one warm sunny afternoon, when my grandmother took me with her to a tent revival meeting. I felt special, just grandma and me. I skipped alongside her as we approached the large white tent. We seated ourselves very near the front where we could see almost everything. 

There was a small stage and a podium where several men stood, milling about, watching the crowd that was gathering. One of the men finally stepped up to the podium and started speaking. He spoke loud, repeatedly pounding his fist. He seemed angry, like I’d seen my father at times–his sweaty face red and distorted. He scared me, I moved just a tad closer to grandma. As he spoke people replied with “amen!” and “thank you Lord!”

The man at the pulpit said he spoke for God. He said God was very concerned about this person he called the devil. He told us to pray for redemption. He told us not to let the devil into our hearts. He told us he could save our pathetic souls. 

“Save us from what,” I ask my grandma. “Shush!” she replied.

Evidently this devil wanted to steal us away from God. And the man who spoke for God said we’d burn in hell forever if that happened. Now people, including my grandma, were crying and frantically waving their hands in the air, begging for mercy. 

I didn’t understand his words but the fear was palpable. Squeezing my eyes tight, wanting to be somewhere, anywhere else, I desperately clung to my grandmother secretly wishing we would leave.

My turn to get saved! 

Grandma marched me up front to the podium and presented me like a gift to the man who spoke for God. Glancing down briefly, he placed one large sweaty palm on my head, and held a bible in the other. He looked up, shaking both my head and the bible. Who was he speaking to, I wondered. 

He yelled out loud, shaking that bible, “In God’s name I command that you, Satan, leave this child!” The audience replied with, “amen” and “thank you Jesus.” 

Then, just like that, it was over. Grandma ushered me back to my seat. Fear throttled me, squeezing my throat so tight I was sure I would throw up or pass out.

Back in my seat, nothing happened. Back home, nothing happened. I waited and waited and nothing happened. 

I don’t know if that devil guy left me but every time I did something wrong, one of the adults in my life would remind me that bad girls go to hell. Every night I’d say that prayer, “…and if I die before I wake, I pray God will take my Soul.” And I promised God that I’d be good and do whatever I could to get back into her grace.

For way too many years, I clung to that story that God had abandoned me. I prayed at night for redemption, saying over and over through my tears, “I’m sorry, please forgive me!” 

So much self-inflicted torture. 

Then Peter said to him, “you have been explaining every topic to us; tell us one other thing, what is the sin of the world?”
The Savior replied, “There is no such thing as sin.”

Gospel of Mary 3:1-3

My desire wasn’t just to know God, I longed to just be in her arms, to be held and comforted and loved. To be accepted. The more I cried, the worse the pain. This relentless inner voice constantly screaming in my ear, “you will never be good enough!”

But I persevered. I became addicted to this quest. Peace would come, I told myself, once I am in the embrace of the Divine.

Like my breath, this longing had become an integral part of me. I was no longer consciously aware of the desire. Occasionally during a particularly deep meditation, I could feel the sweet peace of the Divine. But the moment I’d put my attention on that, it would disappear. 

The Dream

I was at the entrance to this beautiful small park crowded with Oak trees. The moment I stepped into the park I felt a deep abiding grace envelop me. There was a sense of arriving home after a long absence. Every being–trees, birds, squirrels, dragonflies and butterflies–rejoiced in my presence.

I walked and walked, slowly engaging with everything. It was magnificent. 

Feeling weary, I found a large Oak that invited me to sit in her shade. The ground was warm, welcoming. I leaned back resting, comforted by her massive trunk. Then I began to feel myself being absorbed by her. My body was exhausted and offered no resistance. I surrendered and became one with that majestic Oak.

I closed my eyes, listening to the rhythmic beat of her heart. I felt safe. Yes, I was home. Nothing to do. Nothing needed to happen.

When I woke from my dream, I noticed my pillow was damp, I’d been crying. I wasn’t sad. Nor was I elated. I was at peace, a deep vast peace that I’d never known. Somehow I knew the longing had dissolved. I knew that this peaceful comfort was who I truly was. And this was Home.

I’m not sure why grandma took me to that meeting that day. As an adult I realize that it may have been a simple act on her part, an act of love and protection for a child that she dearly loved. I’d not been baptized, my mother’s act of rebellion I’m sure. And grandma was fearful that my Soul would be condemned to hell’s fire and damnation. She did what most of us grandmothers do, she protected the child.

My dream was a gift, a reminder of the power of letting it go and trusting the Divine. Like all things in life, by acknowledging our desires but not attaching to them, we release ourselves from the chains of suffering. 

Let go. Let Be. See through everything and be free, complete, luminous, at home–at ease.

Lama Surya Das

Today I am at peace with who I am.