Land of Fire and Ice

I recently returned from 8 days in Iceland. It's a place I've wanted to visit since I was 12 years old. My desire to see this unique place was inspired by Jules Verne's novel, Journey to the Center of the Earth. I saw the volcano across the bay from Reykjavik where Verne's characters began their decent into the earth's center.

Iceland is truly a place of fire and ice. There are 22 active volcanoes on this large island. In the past year, two eruptions have disrupted air travel in Europe because of volcanic ash. There are numerous glaciers as well, some of which are covering volcanoes. This means an eruption usually causes flooding and icebergs crashing into bridges and homes.

I was part of a group doing a 4-day trek through an area described as "Yellowstone on steroids." We hiked on ash-covered snow for the first two days and were treated to steam vents created by boiling water. The landscape reminded me of the prehistoric land in "The Land that Time Forgot." The photo above shows what I mean.

Fire and ice can also serve as metaphors for the spiritual life. At Pentecost, fire is a symbol for the indwelling of God's spirit. At times, we need the fiery energy that the spiritual life can supply, giving us the motivation and purpose to give ourselves to a cause greater than self.

While ice can symbolize the absence of God, it can also be a metaphor for non-reactivity and detachment. Buddhism has often been called a religion of "a cool head and a warm heart." This combination of fire and ice can be powerful. At times, we need detachment from those things that cause anxiety and stress; at other times, we need engagement in an important venture. In short, we need both fire and ice in our spiritual life.

"Detached Attachment"

I find it ironic that the technologies that link us to millions of others throughout the world also isolate us. Through the internet, we have vast amounts of information and instant communication at our fingertips. Yet, we are usually alone when we're online. The same is true of Blackberry's, cell phones and PDA's.

I discovered a term for this irony in today's New York Times column by David Brooks. His column praised recently deceased neoconservative Irving Kristol ("Three Cheers for Irving"). Brooks characterized Kristol's stance toward the world as "detached attachment."

Buddhism makes much of "detachment" in the service of meditation. If our minds are too busy with concerns and distractions, it is impossible to achieve the mindfulness needed to meditate.

What I like about "detached attachment" is the attachment part. It's easy to become detached by simply withdrawing from the world and its problems. The greater challenge is to become detached from these problems and still be engaged in dealing with them.

The late family systems psychologist Edwin Friedman said that the key to a well functioning family was to have a "non-anxious presence" as part of it. He said that the key word in this phrase is presence. It's easy to be non-anxious when we're absent; being present and non-anxious is the greater challenge.

What does all of this say about the spiritual life? Detachment and low anxiety are surely marks of someone who is spiritually centered and at peace. Yet, engagement and compassion are also marks of a spiritual life. The key is finding the right relationship between detachment and attachment.