If The Word Was Celebrate

A young monk arrives at an old monastery. Among his daily tasks, he is assigned to replicate sacred church canons by hand. He soon observes that each replica is copied from a preceding replica and asks the abbot: “Father, is this not problematic? One mistake could perpetuate through every subsequent copy.” The abbot shrugs and responds, “We have been copying from copies for centuries.” But, wanting to encourage the young monk’s earnestness, he submits to check the original manuscripts for discrepancies.

So, the abbot disappears down a dark staircase to a vault in a cave beneath the monastery. Hours pass and he does not reappear. By now concerned, the young monk descends the staircase and discovers the abbot on the floor, ancient scrolls scattered about, wild-eyed and muttering to himself.

"Father, are you alright?" the novice pleads.

The abbot manages to stutter a single word in response. The young monk slowly, questioningly, sounds it back: “cel-e-brate?”  

“Yes, yes – that’s it! We had it all wrong, my boy. The word was ‘CELEBRATE!’”

~

I love this old dharma joke. Its cheekiness is underpinned by valuable teachings like how a beginner’s mind can grant a fresh perspective and how ritual can devolve into absurdity if its original energy is forgotten. It also makes light of a disposition that seems exclusive to our species – namely, to be unnecessarily hard on ourselves. The sacred revelation of this story is to celebrate.

My mother invoked the aphorism nothing’s ever easy as counsel throughout my growing years. During apartment moves and breakups, at 2 a.m., when I called, bleary-eyed, from a campus library and, repeatedly, through the season of a nervous breakdown (mine, not hers). Among a class of women pioneers in the legal field and a single mom, she worked staggeringly long hours, sacrificed amply, and rarely complained. More than advice, nothing’s ever easy was an anthem and an affirmation: like The Little Engine That Could, it was her way of chugging I think I can, I think I can up the mountain.

My mother was then the age I am now, and I understand how her perseverance was born of a necessary resolve. If she could reframe hardship as reliable rather than unexpected, she could calmly measure the weight of any presenting challenge and steady her course onward and upward. She could overcome. And so, she did.

But every belief has its implications. If we take ourselves too seriously and are convinced that our growth depends on our gravity (the word “serious” comes from the Latin root “serious,” which means "weighty, important, or grave"), we risk veering with programmatic precision toward celibate and not leaving room for celebrate.

Here’s how it happens.

Negativity bias refers to our neurobiological stickiness around negative events or emotions. We weigh perceived threats more heavily than positive or benign factors – it’s a matter of primal electrical activity, information processing, and evolutionary advantage. One constructive comment could be cozied into an outpouring of approval and admiration, for example, and we assume that the constructive comment is the only honest one. We are preferentially sensitized to the pea beneath the mattress.

Modern media algorithmically harnesses and exploits this psychological predilection for negative news to keep our attention. Fear is a hungry beast. Consistent exposure to toxicity and traumatic imagery has become the norm, even for those of us who are media literate and intend to set healthy boundaries for our nervous systems. What’s more, when negativity bias combines with availability bias, the tendency to perseverate and overestimate the importance of the examples that immediately come to mind when considering a topic, and confirmation bias, the tendency to seek out, remember, and favor information that supports something we already believe, diffuse impressions can concretize into core narratives.

Now for an insightful bit of research. Because negative news carries disproportionate psychological weight, balance does not equate to a 50-50 equilibrium. Researchers charted the amount of time couples spent fighting versus nurturing and determined that a ratio of five to one between positive and negative interactions is needed to sustain a stable, satisfying relationship over time. If we apply these findings to our relationship with ourselves, it follows that our physical, emotional, psychological, and spiritual well-being is predicated on the multifold cultivation of signals of self-regard over those of scrutiny and punishment.

The first noble truth is that suffering, or dukkha in Pali, is unavoidable. Rupture is bound to happen. Challenges happen; life happens. Nothing’s ever easy. Whether or not we reconcile ourselves to our situation, we are of the nature to grow old, to become ill, to die, and to experience loss. “Be joyful though you have considered all the facts,” wrote Wendell Berry. Our actions and attitudes are our only true belongings, the only ground upon which we stand.

What is the difference between your existence and that of a Saint? The Saint knows that the spiritual path is a sublime chess game with God. And that the beloved has just made such a fantastic move and that the Saint is now continually tripping over joy and bursting out in laughter and saying, 'I surrender.' Whereas, my dear, I'm afraid you still think you have a thousand serious moves. - Hafiz

Joy is about surrendering to the rapture and grace of life. A fresh cell spontaneously begins to pulse within its round, fluid body, sparking neighboring cells, and so on, until a wave of light radiates across a forming heart. This, I believe, is an utterance of joy.

Joy also widens the heart's aperture to delight in facets of our interconnectedness. Sympathetic joy, or mudita in Pali, is the practice of finding pleasure in the intrinsic happiness, health, and good fortune of others. Mudita promises to untie our thoughts from unhelpful comparison and gladden our relational field.

Even allowing the heart to experience sorrow can be a tenderizing portal into joy. According to resilience and bereavement expert George Bonnano, allowing the full spectrum of emotions to emerge is essential to a healthy grief process. His research with psychology professor Dacher Keltner demonstrated that the more widows and widowers laugh and smile during the early months after their spouse’s death, the better their mental health outcomes over the first two years of bereavement.

We can despair over the thousand serious moves we thought we had – or we can recognize that sifting for joy is part of our resilience training. "They've taken so much from me. They've taken our ability to worship in the way we might. They've taken parts of our culture. They burn texts. They've destroyed so much. Why should I let them take my happiness?" wrote the Dalai Lama.

My friend Mark Jensen recalls hearing Father Thomas Barry counsel that we should wake up every morning and beg forgiveness because we are human and because of how much we have destroyed and are destroying; and then, we should stand up, look around, and celebrate beauty so that our celebration is greater than our despair. Because, as we awaken, we may find ourselves like the old monk — bewildered and delighted at how mistaken we were, struggling to appear good rather than inclining ourselves toward the essence of goodness. And, meanwhile, yellow-bodied roses will be opening across the garden.

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