I had an interesting experience on Friday. I walked by the yoga studio where I used to host a weekly group meditation prior to the pandemic. I discovered the building is no longer safe to enter and has been stripped to its studs! I don’t know if they’re renovating the building or tearing it down, but regardless, I likely won’t be in that yoga studio again because someone in my community has an office space we’ll be able to use for free when meeting in person resumes.
I mention all this because passing by the yoga studio had me reflect on what it now turns out is the very last time I was in that space. It was March 2020 and I waffled about whether to host a group meditation that night. The pandemic was just getting started and we thought Covid was spread via touch. I wasn’t sure whether to proceed or not because I didn’t want anyone to catch the virus, and at the same time I felt a nudge to host.
In the end, I said, “Let’s do it” and brought alcohol swabs to wipe down every surface. No one attended the group meditation and instead of shrugging my shoulders and leaving, I decided to go through with the routine anyway. I meditated with myself and whatever ethereal spirits were in attendance, and walked home, still unsure if I had made a good decision.
As if in answer to that question, when I rounded the corner from the yoga studio, I spotted the rainbow pictured below.
I’m so glad I recorded this moment.
Even at the time, I laughed and texted my family, telling them I was glad I went, that it felt like the universe affirmed my decision. Now I’m doubly glad because that day in March 2020 was my chance to say goodbye to a space I’d used weekly for years, a space where I met new people, strengthened existing bonds, and supported spiritual development.
My experience from Friday reminds me that love knows. The cosmic intelligence that’s at play in the universe knows everything, knows what I need and want before I need or want it. Love knew I wouldn’t be at that yoga studio again and needed a proper goodbye. Nor is this experience with the yoga studio an isolated incident. This has happened to me before in myriad ways – not only with saying goodbye, but also calling someone just as they needed it, or opening a book to the exact page that provided solace I sought, etc. Love knows and love always knows.
My spiritual teacher says, “The Macro-psychic Entity is omniscient … There is no special endeavor, and no necessity for special effort, to know anything, because all things are within Him and all are within His ectoplasmic dispersion …. Everything is His internal mental projection, intra-psychic projection. That is why He knows everything and will always know everything.”
The Divine Beloved knows everything and will always know everything. There’s relief in that and also a sweetness. I don’t have to know everything; I don’t have to figure everything out because there’s an entity that already does all that. And that entity is guiding me, letting me know for instance when I should visit a yoga studio for an unbeknownst-to-me goodbye.
I dream of a world where we recognize there’s a divine intelligence at play in the universe that knows everything. A world where we understand that omniscient entity guides us, loves us, and shows us our next steps. A world where we realize love knows and always will.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This week I keep thinking about a post I wrote in November 2015. I’m sharing it again now. Enjoy.
The other day I had a conversation with my friend and neighbor about how I’m constantly seeking love from the “other.” And what I’m still learning is how to give love to myself and be OK with my own company. A lot of it comes down to being my own inner loving parent. She reminded me while it’s true it’s important to love ourselves, it’s also important to remember we are the beloved. That we are the divine in physical form and we are already loved and cherished more than we can imagine.
Wow. Take that in for a minute. We are already loved. We are already cherished. We don’t have to do anything to earn love and affection; it’s already here.
We are all little lovebugs. Photo by Anna Kolosyuk on Unsplash
My spiritual teacher says the same thing, but he adds in a twist and mentions the notion of subject and object. He says when we are meditating, we are thinking of God. In that instance, we think of ourselves as the subject because we are the ones doing, we are the ones meditating. However, in actuality, God is meditating on us and we are the object. I think I’ve heard that a bajillion times and I just. don’t. get. it. Maybe it’s because I never learned grammar in elementary and middle school, but I don’t connect with the subject and object analogy.
I started thinking about this more, puzzling over how to feel into the notion I am the beloved, the beloved is me. I started thinking about the people I love unconditionally, the people I would do anything for, and don’t require anything in return because loving them is enough. One such person is my niece (not by blood), nicknamed Buddha. This is a girl I fell in love with at first sight. I’ve sung her to sleep, I’ve wiped her butt happily while she was potty training, I’ve kissed her, held her, and loved her even while she threw her worst temper tantrums.
It occurred to me God loves me, and us, the way I love my niece. All the love I feel for Buddha, that’s exactly how God feels about me, plus more. I am loved, cherished, and adored beyond measure. Just now I looked up from my computer to the sky outside and saw a heart in the clouds as if to remind me, “Yes, Rebekah, love is everywhere and you are loved that much.”
Pause for a moment and feel into that. Think of some entity, whether it’s a person or a pet, who you love unconditionally. Now imagine all the love you feel for them directed at yourself. Feel the depth and breadth of love for you, for us. It’s already here.
I dream of a world where we feel how loved we are. A world where even at our most alone, we don’t feel lonely because we sense the love of something greater than ourselves. A world where we remember that love and take time to soak it in. A world where we realize we are already loved.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
As people all over the world celebrate, or recently celebrated Passover and Easter, I think about how both of those stories have never felt more relevant. To jog your memory, Passover is the story of Moses, the burning bush, and the 10 commandments. What I want to focus on in this post is the part where Moses commanded the Egyptian Pharaoh of the time to let the enslaved Jews go free and the Pharaoh refused. As retribution, God delivered 10 plagues. I’m not going to relay the whole story (you can read the rest here), but if I had to sum up the story of Passover, it’s about escaping plagues and seeking freedom.
It’s interesting to me the Hebrew word for Egypt, Mitzrayim, also means narrow spaces. I find that especially symbolic right now as we’re all in this global pandemic and under quarantine. We’re in a tight, narrow space, but Passover is the story of moving through that, of fleeing into freedom.
This picture evoked the burning bush and liberation for me. Photo by Will Truettner on Unsplash
Easter has a similar story of freedom. The way I’ve heard author Glennon Doyle characterize Easter is it’s a story of pain (i.e., the crucifixion), then the waiting (when Jesus was in a cave), and then the rising (when he resurrected). We are collectively in the waiting place, waiting for the rising, metaphorically speaking. We’re also collectively in the tight, narrow space, as we are besieged by the COVID-19 plague.
These holidays remind us of the deep, dark, painful things that happen to us in life, sometimes personally and sometimes in society, as well as the relief from no longer being there. These holidays celebrate the thrill of leaving those narrow spaces behind and being able to roam free. Passover and Easter are holidays that celebrate hope and courage without omitting the pain. We will eventually reach the promised land, so to speak, not without cost, but it will come.
I also think about a quote I repeat regularly from my spiritual teacher who said, “Difficulties can never be greater than your capacity to solve them.” Right now our difficulties may feel insurmountable, but the holidays many of us are celebrating remind us that’s not true. The holidays remind us it can take a while, a long, long while, but eventually liberation happens.
It’s premature to celebrate just yet, but I know it’s coming. That little bit of hope is what keeps me going. I want to know what’s on the other side of all this. Don’t you? How will I be changed and how will society be changed? Right now we don’t know yet because we’re in the middle of the story, but oh my goodness, I can’t wait to find out what’s next.
I dream of a world where we remember no matter what we’re going through, eventually it will pass. A world where we remember we, too, will be liberated from our narrow spaces at some point. A world where we take heart in stories from the past and use them as fuel for the future.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Something funny happened to me. This morning I read in Tosha’s Silver’s book It’s Not Your Money that sometimes when we’re angry we need to break something. She recommends plates but it could be anything – stuffed animals, coconuts, phone books. I felt the urge to break something but then talked myself out of it because I didn’t want to deal with the clean up. Even if I broke plates in my garage I can’t leave shards lying around. I mean, I suppose I could, but people park in there. What would happen to their tires? Therefore I dismissed breaking anything and considered buying a coconut later this week.
I grabbed my water glass and wouldn’t you know it – it hit my counter in such a way that it shattered. Not into a million pieces thank goodness, but enough to mean I pulled out the vacuum cleaner. It was kind of satisfying to hear and see the glass smash AND it was also a pain in the butt to clean up the debris. Some people might think my experience just now was a coincidence but I’m not a butterfingers. I don’t regularly break dishes. In fact, the last time I broke a water glass was more than four years ago, so we can’t chalk it up to me being a klutz.
Not my glasses. Photo by Jana Sabeth on Unsplash
I’m writing about this, I’m making meaning out of the broken glass, because I think it indicates what’s in my best good will happen. I may try to prevent it, but it will happen. Also, sometimes what’s best for me will hurt or be annoying. In this instance, I cut myself. I bled a little. And I had to clean up the broken glass. It wasn’t fun, I didn’t enjoy it, but the part of me that needed to break something feels satisfied. Emotionally I feel better.
I’m also thinking about samskaras here, or reactive momenta. Samskaras are related to the law of karma, or the law of action. As we know, for every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction. But what happens if the reaction takes a second? Or more than a second? That potential reaction, the seed of the reaction to an action, is called a samskara in Sanskrit. According to my spiritual tradition, we carry these samskaras with us from one lifetime to the next. When a samskara is expressed, we often attribute that to luck, both good and bad.
I spend a lot of time thinking about luck. I long for good luck and I worry about bad luck. “Worry” isn’t quite the right word, it’s more like obsess. Especially when it comes to safety. I’m scared to go to movie theaters because I’m worried about mass shootings. I’m nervous attending religious services for the same reason. The first thing I do when I enter a space is notice the exits in case I need to make a quick getaway. Some of this is warranted, I do live in the U.S. after all, but I worry about these things as if noticing them will prevent them from happening. If I’m hypervigilant, then nothing can happen to me, right? Weeeellllllllll.
Another way to think of samskaras is to equate them with a curriculum. There are certain things that are meant for us in this lifetime. We can’t run away from them as much as we try. It’s why the healthiest person you know gets cancer. Or your friend can’t find a job despite applying all over creation. It would be easy to sink into defeatism here. To say, “Oh well. That’s my fate. Can’t do anything about it,” but that’s both true and not true. We make new samskaras all the time. How we show up in the world still matters AND certain things are inevitable. I think what this comes down to is serenity, encapsulated by the serenity prayer: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
Right now, I’m figuring out what I can change and what I can’t. I’m working on accepting what’s coming to me, both good and bad. How can I be more serene? That, my friends, is the work.
I dream of a world where we recognize what’s needed in our lives will happen. A world where we understand what’s necessary isn’t always pleasant. A world where we realize someone else’s life curriculum isn’t necessarily ours and vice versa. A world where we live in serenity as best we can one day at a time.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The other day I shared a poem by Khalil Gibran on Facebook titled “Fear.” I’m sharing it again here because it’s relevant to my life right now:
It is said that before entering the sea
a river trembles with fear.
She looks back at the path she has traveled,
from the peaks of the mountains,
the long winding road crossing forests and villages.
And in front of her,
she sees an ocean so vast,
that to enter
there seems nothing more than to disappear forever.
But there is no other way.
The river cannot go back.
Nobody can go back.
To go back is impossible in existence.
The river needs to take the risk
of entering the ocean
because only then will fear disappear,
because that’s where the river will know
it’s not about disappearing into the ocean,
but of becoming the ocean.
I am that river right now. I’m traveling through mountain peaks and crossing forests. The current of life is moving me along in a direction that excites me and scares me. I’m progressing toward something I didn’t anticipate and for many years said I never wanted, yet here I am, traveling down this path. I want to run away, to turn back and go in the other direction, but like the river, I cannot. Too much momentum has built up. Will I change course? Possibly, but eventually I’ll still enter the ocean, become the ocean. It’s inevitable one way or another.
It all leads to this. Photo by Mathew Waters on Unsplash
I’m speaking in metaphors but that’s because I’m not ready to talk about what I’m going through publicly yet. A part of me doesn’t want to fully commit to this path and telling people what I’m doing means just that. Also, so much changes so quickly for me these days. The river current is rough and filled with rapids at the moment. I don’t know how things will shake out.
And yet, there’s something about becoming the ocean that speaks to me. When I look at what I’m going through, it feels like I’m becoming my truest self. I’m becoming the self I was always meant to be, which is lovely. Also, there’s the spiritual level of becoming the ocean.
My spiritual teacher often uses the metaphor of a river and the ocean to talk about the spiritual journey we’re on. How we’re flowing back to the ocean and becoming the ocean. In essence, we’re returning to Cosmic Consciousness and merging with it.
Sometimes the journey is fast and sometimes it’s slow, but it’s inevitable according to my spiritual philosophy. There’s something comforting for me about knowing the general path is laid out, that even if this river changes course, eventually I’ll still wind up in the same place: the ocean.
I don’t know if this post is making much sense, but I want to close with saying we are each becoming more fully our true selves. We are learning and growing and changing. The process can be scary at times, we may be wending our way through the dark, but we’re heading somewhere amazing and becoming who we’re meant to be.
I dream of a world where we realize our greatness. A world where we flow with the current of life. A world where we understand sometimes there comes a point where we can’t turn back and all that’s left is to keep going. A world where we become the ocean.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
What with the recent Climate Strike, Greta Thunberg’s speech at the UN, and the news in general, climate change has been on my mind. Jonathan Franzen wrote an article recently about a new kind of climate change denialism, which is denying how bad things will likely get. He says, “The climate apocalypse is coming. To prepare for it, we need to admit that we can’t prevent it.”
Franzen’s essay elicited a lot of ire for multiple reasons. Climate scientists refuted his claims of doom and gloom, and others pointed out the sexism and racism in giving a novelist room to write about climate change as opposed to others who are experts in the field. As for me, I’m teetering on the edge of doom and gloom. I’m thrilled about the passion we’re seeing from youth especially. I’m excited that friends of mine are becoming vegan or vegetarian. It’s incredible to see all the changes people are making. And at the same time, we’re already experiencing the effects of climate change.
Could some beauty come from all this? Photo by Jakob Owens on Unsplash
That’s not news to most people, but I’m repeating it now because there is a sense of loss, of mourning. The world is different now than it was 10 years ago. We’re undergoing another mass extinction. Am I crying about it? Yes I am. And at the same time a different perspective is arising.
I think about how dinosaurs used to roam this Earth and then became extinct. Their extinction paved the way for me, for us. Could the same be true for climate change? Please don’t misunderstand, I’m not saying we should move full steam ahead and kill everything because by doing so a new creature will appear. Nor am I saying people should continue to feed every greedy impulse and use up all the planet’s natural resources. But what I am wondering is perhaps whether good can come from doom. That the changes we’re experiencing on the planet are real and terrible; that many people will die and suffer, and maybe we’ll move into a new era. One that’s more thoughtful, more equitable, more cooperative because we’ve learned we literally cannot live any other way.
My spiritual teacher has said in passing that eventually blue eyes will become extinct. As someone with blue-green eyes that gives me a pang, and it demonstrates to me extinction is built into existence. Eventually maybe everything goes extinct. I don’t want to speed the process along by any means, but it has me wonder about the divine intelligence at play. What if I could mourn the planet, fight like hell to save it, and at the same time believe something beautiful could rise from the rubble? Even saying that right now, I feel more hope and less fear, and that’s a great place for me to be.
I dream of a world where we act as stewards of the planet, caring for it as best we can. A world where we recognize that change is sad and scary but also inevitable. A world where we grasp that something beautiful can come from something tragic.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
“Life should not be motivated by fear.” I’ve heard that sentence hundreds of times but usually it goes in one ear and out the other. The message doesn’t land because my mind can’t compute the meaning. In some ways my life has absolutely been motivated by fear.
I’m applying to any and every job — some that I want and some that I don’t — because I’m scared. I’m casting as wide a range as possible because a part of me feels desperate. I’m like that person on Tinder who swipes right for every profile because I want someone, anyone, to say, “Yes, I’ll go out with you.” I get it. We say with jobs and with dating that it’s a numbers game so on some level it makes sense to apply for everything, to say yes to everyone. But on another level it does not.
Reach for the clouds! Or something. . . Photo by Samuel Zeller on Unsplash
I’m saying yes to everything because I’m scared that I won’t be hired anywhere. I’m not accounting for my own needs and wants. Instead I’m saying I’ll settle for anything. Sometimes that’s necessary. In my situation it’s not. I’m already living off of unemployment and food stamps. This is as low as it gets for me because I won’t be homeless — I have too many friends and family to allow that to happen. So this? This is the worst it will get for me given the circumstances.
What would my life look like if I wasn’t motivated by fear? What if my job search wasn’t motivated by fear but instead joy, service, or faith? What would be different? For starters, my mindset would change. I wouldn’t say “if I get hired” but instead “when I get hired.” I’d believe the right job is coming along at some point. I’d apply places that make use of my skills and talents instead of any job, every job.
Writing this my chest is tight and my breathing is shallow because a part of me is very attached to the fear perspective. I’m afraid to stop being afraid. But I want to and am willing to try something new.
My spiritual teacher says over and over again that the universe knows what we need and want before we do. That there’s a loving entity looking out for us, guiding us, giving us what we need. We don’t always realize it at the time; often it only becomes clear in retrospect. I’m finding that to be true for me. I won’t list all the reasons why right now but will say briefly that being unemployed has meant sleeping in every day for more than three months. As someone who didn’t sleep well for seven years, this is a tremendous gift and means I’m healing in ways I never thought possible. So perhaps my higher power knows what’s best for me after all.
I dream of a world where we are motivated by joy, love, service, and faith. A world where we hold out for what we want when we’re fortunate to be in a position to do so. A world where we realize our higher power is acting in our best interest and we surrender to that, trusting all is well.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I experienced something this week that seems like a good metaphor for my life right now. On Thursday, I started to wash my clothes but noticed I didn’t have enough quarters to dry them as well. I decided to wash them anyway and hang everything up to dry. However, when I descended to the laundry room to acquire my clothes, I found them sitting in a pool of water — the washing machine hadn’t drained the water. Luckily, my landlord was onsite so I alerted him to the problem. He unplugged the machine, started it again, added more quarters to see if that made a difference — nada.
Defeated, I pulled my sopping wet clothes from the machine, leaving the lid up to broadcast to anyone else the washing machine’s malfunction. However, a short while later, my landlord knocked on my door and said he heard the washing machine start up again. He gave me three dollars in quarters to try my load once more. Not only did the machine work, but also I had an extra $1.50 in quarters to be able to dry my clothes. Huzzah! Things were difficult, but hardship paved the way for ease.
Swinging is hard, then it’s easy. Photo by Yoori Koo on Unsplash
I’m hopeful the same will be true with other aspects of my life, particularly my career. I’m applying for jobs left and right, going on interviews, but still no offers on the table. It’s tough. It’s demoralizing. It’s not what I would call easy. But maybe the universe is constructing things so they will become easy. Perhaps the obstacles right now are also for my benefit.
My spiritual teacher says, “The path of spiritual excellence is strewn with numerous obstacles.” And also, “When one sets out to complete a great task, innumerable difficulties must be confronted. The greater the task, the mightier the obstacles.” I didn’t think the task of being employed would be so great, but it is because I’m not suited for every job and not every job is suited for me. That means a lot of hurdles to clear. The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow requires some legwork to find.
I can’t do more about my situation than I already am other than change my perspective. I can’t control what happens to me, but I can control what I think about it. Right now I’m choosing to believe this is all happening for a reason, and while it’s really not fun, eventually it will pan out and things will be easy. Until they’re hard again and then easy again and then hard again ad infinitum.
I dream of a world where things are hard at first and then they’re easy. A world where we see how even the difficult things lead to something easier down the road. A world where we understand everything slots together like a puzzle but we can’t see the whole picture yet until it’s finished.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
For the past few weeks I’ve woken up every day with high anxiety – a 10 out of 10. Each day I’ve wondered if a figurative bomb would drop on me. Some days the bomb dropped and some days it did not, but no day proceeded as I expected. I won’t get into specifics publicly, but I’ve been challenged in ways I never have before.
Throughout this process I’ve reached out to others for support and I’ve also turned to my spiritual practices. In my spiritual tradition, as well as in many others, we have the concept of surrender. Surrender is a hard pill to swallow because at least in the culture I’m most familiar with, we’re taught to fight, to try, to never give up. We’re taught that we’re masters of our fate, the captains of our soul. Weeeelllllll, not so much, according to spirituality. In spirituality, we take the opposite approach, that rather there is a force bigger than us, directing the show. That we are merely players upon the stage.
Sometimes we need to crack our shells. Image by Sara Codair on Unsplash
A monk I know says we’re able to experience a divine shower of love when we surrender body, mind, and soul. When the hard shell of ego is cracked – and often it’s cracked through extremely painful experiences – that’s when we become like children and let the universe take care of us. When the shell of ego is cracked, that’s when we may feel the most connected to the divine, if we take that stance.
Everything I’m going through has certainly cracking my ego shell. It has forced me to surrender my personal will, my notions of how things will work out, and instead let go. It’s not possible for me to behave otherwise. Thinking I control what’s happening is only succeeding in making me feel crazy. My mind is spinning with all the possible scenarios and outcomes and the reality is, I have no idea. I can’t prepare for all eventualities because more often than not, things I didn’t conceive of are what manifest.
You know that joke, “How do you make God laugh? Tell him your plans”? That sums up my life right now. I never, never saw any of this coming. I never anticipated I would be in this situation, yet here I am. My ego is getting beaten to a pulp right now. And even with all the fear and anxiety, all the Sturm und Drang, I’ve had moments of pure grace, of magic and mystery. I’ve witnessed my higher power taking care of me, showing up for me, demonstrating power and presence.
Do I know how things will turn out? No. Might it be terrible? Yes. But can I still feel deeply loved and held by a power greater than myself? Absolutely. And I have that wish for others too.
I dream of a world where even amidst pain and suffering, we feel loved and supported. A world where we recognize the power and the presence of something bigger than us. A world where we understand often the universe has to crack through our hard shell of ego and self-will in order to shower us with grace.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
My therapist said something to me this week that I’d heard before but this time I really heard. He told me, “There are some things you don’t need to know.” I’m a curious person and want to know everything. That curiosity is a key component of being a journalist. It’s a journalist’s job to find out as much as possible about a story. However, truly, there are some things we don’t need to know.
I think we understand this in the context of children. Children are not served by hearing the full details of scary or complex things. We don’t tell them graphic details of war or rape. We may paint with broad brushstrokes or present information in a way they understand, but children don’t need to know everything.
I know these are the “evil” monkeys, but they work well with knowledge too. Photo by Joao Tzanno on Unsplash.
In many spiritual traditions, God or higher power or the divine is parentified. We are usually called divine children of God or a variation of that, and so it follows that perhaps higher power treats us the same way a parent would, as in the universe shields us from information. I’ve said before if I knew all the things the universe had in store for me I would get overwhelmed. That continues to be true. After contemplating I don’t need to know everything about the future, I feel more at ease. I feel more at peace. I feel more trust that it’s not my job to gather as much information as possible and strategize regarding all the scenarios.
We have the saying, “Ignorance is bliss.” I usually think about that expression with wistfulness, wishing I could go back in time and remain ignorant to bad news. Or I utter it with envy, wishing I could be like someone else who doesn’t know what I know. However, maybe I can continue to experience bliss in the form of ignorance by remembering I don’t have to answer every question; that I don’t have to know what will happen next. Maybe it’s OK for me to be in the dark sometimes and trust it’s for a good reason. Maybe I can relax into the knowledge I am still a child and there is still a parent taking care of me. Not my birth parents, although them too, but also an unseen parent, a mystical parent.
My spiritual teacher says it is the duty of the Cosmic Consciousness to look after us, the divine children. He also said this Cosmic Consciousness will do whatever is best for us, that our needs and necessities are better known by this divine energy.
“A child of two months does not know what she requires; her mother knows,” he wrote. “She is solely dependent upon her mother. Similarly, devotees are solely dependent on the Cosmic Father, and for that reason the Cosmic Father has a special responsibility.”
For today anyway, I’m feeling into that more, letting myself be a child. Letting myself swim in ignorance, recognizing the bliss that comes with it. I’m remembering I don’t need to know everything and also that I’m dependent on a power greater than myself that is taking care of me.
I dream of a world where we realize sometimes it’s OK to be in the dark. A world where we understand we don’t need to know everything. A world where we realize there is a force greater than us in the world and that force is here, acting as our parent.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
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