This is a repost from December 2010.
Life can be so dramatic can’t it? I may get caught up in the circumstances of life – of freaking out about spraining my ankle, getting laid off, tumultuous relationships, even death – but ultimately everything is an expression of an infinite loving consciousness. All of it is God, Brahma, Love, my Higher Power. When I remember that I stop falling for illusions.
In Sanskrit, there is a word maya that means just that – illusion. More deeply, maya means all the worldly trappings that distract us. That’s not to say the worldly trappings don’t exist, but really they are like shadows on the wall. They exist but we’re not seeing their true form.
Sometimes I get caught up in the “shadows” (aka, life stuff) and forget to focus on what’s making the shadow.
I skimmed through one of my favorite books, A Return to Love looking for a quote to fit in with this blogpost and I came across, “Nothing real can be threatened. Nothing unreal exists. Herein lies the peace of God.” The shadows may dance on the wall, but the hand that creates them remains unperturbed.
This post is my effort to return to love. To remind myself what is real. Is it the pain in my ankle? Is it my financial situation? No. They are merely shadows on the wall. The real reality is my higher power, the infinite loving consciousness. My ego likes to pretend otherwise, likes to enjoy the sound and the fury of life, if you will, because that’s the only way my ego will survive.
In truth, I am peace, I am love, I am divine. In truth, all is well, all always was well, all will always be well. No matter the circumstance I go through, no matter the upset, no matter the drama, it’s just noise. The hand creating the shadow is at peace. My soul, my essence remains untouched. Because ultimately love is all there is.
It’s easy to forget and disregard that notion. That everything is an expression of the divine. Especially when life is super dramatic. Except, that’s when I need to pause the most. That’s when I need to jerk my head away from the shadows dancing before me and remind myself where they’re coming from.
I dream of a world where we disengage from the ego’s drama. A world where we bisect the trouble and get to the heart of the matter, which is love is all there is. Even among the violence and upheaval, love is there. Love will always be there. Love always was there. I dream of a world where we know that and feel that and return to that. A world where we focus on the hand creating the shadow rather than the shadow itself.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
In yoga there is a concept of santosha, or contentment that I’ve always struggled with. I am rarely content with what I have and am usually focused on what’s next as opposed to what is. This week I had two interactions that brought some perspective.
When I flew back to the West Coast a couple of Saturdays ago, I started chatting with the guy next to me. I asked him if he liked where he lived and the answer was, “No.” When I asked him why he’s lived there so long he said because of his job. In that moment, I felt a swell of gratitude and contentment.
So, I know I’m inferring some things, but this guy sure looks content!
My gypsy lifestyle is not without its challenges (hello moving more times than years I’ve been alive), but the one thing I will say is if I’m unhappy in a place I’ll move. I’d much rather take a chance on an uncertain future than a discontented secure one. I love that about myself. I appreciate the fact I’m willing to take a risk, to do the scary thing, in the hopes it will pay off.
In this same conversation, my seatmate asked me if I traveled much. My curt reply was, “Yes.” It got me thinking about all the places I’ve been lucky enough to see in my life. Usually I’m comparing myself with others and coming up short. I’ll think to myself, “Yeah, I’ve traveled a lot, but I haven’t traveled as much as so-and-so,” or, “Yeah, but I haven’t been to _____.” I’m constantly striving ahead instead of being content with what I have. In that reflective plane ride, I felt appreciation for the places I’ve seen, and the places I’ve lived.
A few days after I arrived, I got my haircut. The hairdresser started telling me about her life and I was again amazed to hear about someone’s life that is so different from mine. She’s 23 and has never lived anywhere else. She’s barely left the state. She also told me about her sister, who is close to my age, and has the sort of life I thought I would have at 30: married, owns a house, possibly babies in the future. Her sister also hasn’t left the state or lived anywhere else. In that moment, I peeked into the life of someone else and found that in fact I am content with my own.
What I am getting at here, perhaps poorly, is that so often I look at what I don’t have, how my life doesn’t look the way I think it should, and I forget to remember what’s great about it. And I don’t mean the things we’re all grateful for – a place to sleep, enough to eat, great friends – I mean the character traits I possess, the way I choose to live my life. I see possibilities of other ways of being and I feel content because despite everything, life is pretty good.
I dream of a world where we’re all able to cultivate contentment for ourselves. A world where we want what we already have. A world where we take the time to pause and congratulate ourselves for what we’re doing right. A world where we have santosha.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
For the audio version of this post, scroll to the bottom.
My recovery mentor often says to me, “Change happens on higher power’s timeline, and when it happens, it happens fast, so be ready.” Today I’m marveling at how true that is, particularly because I’m in a place that has seasons. In the Bay Area, there are two seasons: the dry season and the rainy season. In Missouri, there is a proper spring, summer, fall, and winter.
Last Wednesday, I was in shorts and t-shirt, dipping my legs in the lake. The very next day we had a thunderstorm replete with rain and lightning and then it was cold. Like, pull-out-my-fall- jacket cold. Like, turn-the-heat-on cold. It went from summer to fall in the course of a day. I realize comparing change to the seasons is not so valid anymore, considering that today the temperature is back up to the 70s, but change happens quickly in life too.
I do have to say, it’s really nice to see leaves like this again.
I read an interview about the recently departed Joan Rivers who I’d always unfairly dismissed as a mean-spirited comedian. There was a point in her life when she was blacklisted from The Tonight Show, her husband Edgar had killed himself, and her career was floundering. She seriously contemplated suicide. She said, “What saved me was my dog jumped into my lap. I thought, ‘No one will take care of him.’… I had the gun in my lap, and the dog sat on the gun. I lecture on suicide because things turn around. I tell people this is a horrible, awful, dark moment, but it will change and you must know it’s going to change and you push forward. I look back and think, ‘Life is great, life goes on. It changes.'”
As we all know, Joan went on to have a successful career and a rich life, but there was a point when she was thinking about ending it all. I also reflect on the turn of events for friends of mine. They’re getting married this winter and they didn’t even know each other a year ago! They met in the winter of 2013, got engaged in June 2014, and now they’re getting married.
Even in my own life I’ve seen how change happens quickly. One day I was settling into my new abode and within an hour a sweet situation turned sour and I started making plans to live elsewhere.
I often think change happens painfully slowly, that it’s gradual – and that is certainly true – but sometimes it also happens quickly, and we have no idea it’s coming even 10 minutes prior. At this point in my life when things are so up in the air, when I have no idea where I’ll be next, what will happen next, what lies before me, it’s heartening to remember my life won’t always look this way. That change happens on the universe’s timeline, and when it happens it can happen fast so I need to be ready.
I dream of a world where we have hope for the future. A world where we realize life can change for the better in an instant. A world where we understand our troubles will pass and we’ll be glad we stuck around to see it.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The number of romantic interludes I’ve had is embarrassingly low. Like, so low many of you would be shocked. However, it was pointed out to me the other day the way I talk about places to live, other people talk about romantic relationships. And then it hit me – what other people experience in their dating life, I experience in my home life.
I have moved 32 times (roughly) in 29 years and in that time I’ve experienced a LOT. I’ve had short-term flings (i.e. sublets); I’ve experienced love at first sight – my apartment in San Francisco – which has now turned into a phantom ex, the one I measure all others against. I’ve also had the experience of my love turning into a nightmare and lamenting how it happened – I’m talking about how my San Francisco upstairs neighbor started playing loud music and I didn’t sleep for four months.
Others date people, I date homes. Maybe I could move here, it looks nice!
I’ve moved into places that sounded good on paper, places I liked well enough but didn’t love – like my in-law unit in Balboa Park with a yippy dog – that eventually drove me nuts. I’ve remained good friends with exes, such as places in Washington, D.C., and we catch up every so often. I’ve “dated” apartments with kids (i.e. had a roommate with a child), and savored foreign lovers – there is a hotel in Vienna that I go back to year after year with pleasure.
In my current place, it wasn’t love at first sight, but we liked one another, it had all the qualities I’m looking for, but it turns out my apartment can’t commit. I’m sad to say, my landlady blew up at me unexpectedly and asked me to move out before my lease is up. I do have a lease, so I’m not sure when I’m moving, but at the moment we’re in that awkward space of knowing our “relationship” is coming to an end. In the interim, we are linked due to circumstances.
Not to mention I’ve been on loads of first dates (i.e. going to look at a place after first reading about it on Craigslist), attended tons of parties (open houses), and been rejected countless times. And I find myself wanting places that don’t want me – places that sound so intriguing and perfect but can’t be bothered to give me the time of day. And the reverse – places have wanted me that I haven’t.
The feelings that other people have in romance – the hope, the excitement, the euphoria, the resentment, the disappointment, the anger, the heartbreak – I’ve experienced in finding places to live. I bring this up because I’m a teensy bit ashamed of my paltry dating life, but now I see the universe is infinite and unlimited and so I’m having similar experiences in an unconventional way. Unconventional doesn’t mean bad, it means unusual. It doesn’t mean I’m any less equipped to deal with a partner when he comes along because I’m feeling the same things other people are, just in a different way.
I wrote this post because I find the situation to be funny, but also because maybe you think in some ways you don’t measure up. Maybe you feel ashamed because you’re not having the same experiences other people are having. I’m here to tell you, maybe you are and you’re unaware of it. Maybe life isn’t so much about a route or a path as it is about feelings. Maybe every person is supposed to experience hope, excitement, euphoria, resentment, disappointment, anger, and heartbreak, and it’s the emotions that count, not the particulars.
I dream of a world where we don’t discount our emotions. A world where we stop comparing ourselves to others, always coming up short. A world where we realize feelings count more than circumstances. A world where we embrace our unconventional selves.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m reposting this primarily because I need a reminder that the impossible is possible. In fact, the word “impossible” even says, “i’m possible” in it. I realize it may seem strange to emphasis that dreams come true, that what I want can be made manifest, when the cottage I reference in this post is the very one I’m moving out of as soon as I find something else, but I have no regrets. My cottage has served its purpose, it’s what I wanted at the time, it was everything I wished for or thought I could live with, and now it’s time for a new dream, for a new fantasy to come to life.
I’ve been accused on more than one occasion, and by more than one person, of “living in Dreamsville,” aka, Fantasyland, aka never gonna happen. I understand why people say this to me — because I dream big, because I ask for a lot, and because what I desire so often doesn’t match what other people think is possible. Here’s the thing though, what I want is absolutely possible, and in fact, comes true.
This looks like a nice place to live. Maybe I can live here.
If you’ve been reading “Another World is Probable” for a while, you know I’ve been a gypsy without a caravan for about a year and a half. I’ve moved apartments, cities, and coasts. I haven’t stayed in any one place for longer than four months since January of 2012. Last Monday I realized my dreams have changed and I no longer want to live in the city. Instead, I want to live where I can see trees outside my window, by myself, in a quiet place, but still close to things — shops, public transportation, etc. The kicker is I need to be able to afford it working part time in the most expensive area in the country. This dream was often scoffed at because it sounds unrealistic (understandably).
Well, on Thursday, I signed a lease on a place and it’s all those things and more. I’ll be living in a cottage by myself, within my price range, at a gated community, near public transportation, where I can see trees outside my window. When I walked into the cottage I cried. I cried because the place felt like home, but also because I was overwhelmed at seeing my dream come to life. I was overwhelmed at how the universe orchestrated to meet all my needs and more. I was overwhelmed that what other people deemed impossible was staring me in the face.
I bring this up not to chastise the people who tell me I live in Never Never Land, but because I think it’s important to realize our dreams are possible. That you can’t really dream “too big.” I’m not saying they’ll manifest overnight — heck, it’s taken me a year and a half to realize what I wanted and then receive it — but they do happen.
Dreams turning into reality are on my mind because I’m currently in Seattle for my mom’s graduation. My 64-year-old mother is graduating from medical school. It’s been a dream nearly 29 years in the making (she was pregnant with me when she started the prerequisites for med school) and now she’s graduating. My dear friend has a quote I believe he crafted himself, “Dreams may fade from view, dreams may be torn and bruised, but dreams never die.” And I would add to that, dreams come true if we work for them, if we keep the faith, and if we take the action steps to realize them.
I dream of a world where we all dream big and then watch those dreams turn into reality. A world where we understand it’s amazing to live in Dreamsville, and as John Lennon says, you’re not the only one. A world where we receive all the blessings the universe wants to bestow on us and more.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I take life very seriously (I also take myself seriously). I get caught up in the drama of what’s happening, the upheaval, the “what’s next.” I surround myself with light-hearted, playful people to remind myself life is more comedic than I make it out to be.
A while back, this great picture circulated around facebook:
You’re so right Kermit.
Yeah. We’re not going to get out alive anyway, so why take everything so seriously? It’s not going to matter in the end. Sometimes I feel like I’m getting tossed about by the ocean’s currents, flailing this way and that, but instead of thrashing about, I’d prefer to dive deep, to not be so affected by the waves.
A meditation I’ve been doing lately is a mountain meditation where I imagine myself as a mountain and then think about all the weather patterns a mountain experiences. Does a mountain disintegrate because of a thunderstorm? Because the wind is howling? No. And the weather pattern passes. It’s the same with the majority of life’s problems. They seem major! Life-changing! Dramatic! But really they’re not so serious.
A friend and I recounted a story of how several years ago we were called demons in human form. The person we relayed this story to said, “Oh really? How lovely. What kind of demon?” Instead of being outraged on our behalf, he took away the power of the insult by trivializing it because obviously my friend and I aren’t demons in human form so why not play with it?
There’s an expression I think about a lot: “If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry.” So often I cry, but I’d much rather laugh. Life is so much more enjoyable that way, don’t you think?
I dream of a world where we take ourselves and our lives less seriously. A world where we play more. A world where we laugh more. A world where we are less affected by the events of the day or week. A world where we remember things are not as dramatic as they may seem.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
At times it can be very easy for me to slip into old patterns – to focus on the negative instead of the positive. To lament what I don’t have instead of what I do. We all know gratitude is the key to happiness, but even gratitude can become something rote, something I roll off the tongue because of course I’m grateful for food to eat, a place to sleep, money in the bank, etc.
What’s been on my mind is holding close those moments that are so sweet they break my heart. Maybe it’s gratitude, but for me it’s deep gratitude, gratitude in the core of my being so pure tears spring to my eyes. A sweetness so subtle it cannot be expressed, only felt.
This weekend has been one of those times.
My dear friends who are like family were married on Friday. The ceremony was lovely, but what really got to me was the reception. Friends of the bride and groom performed songs for the happy couple, gave toasts, and generally expressed their love. In return, the bride and groom expressed their love for us, their community. To see how much support and love and appreciation we all have for one another was so sweet. I aspire to have the same thing – a great community that supports me and a wonderful romantic relationship.
Yesterday, the newly married couple had a picnic at a redwood park where we all caught up and socialized in a more casual manner. I made new connections and had more time to talk to the people I already knew. I lounged on the grass, ate delicious food, and walked through the woods. Just before I left, someone I’ve known for a few years gifted me with a CD because he felt inspired. It was a spontaneous act of friendship and I love those authentic moments of expression.
Last night, a friend had a birthday party, so in addition to more food, we sat around in candlelight singing kiirtans and connecting with one another in a heart space. I didn’t get home until about 1 a.m.
A taste of some of the kiirtan we sang last night. If you enjoy this, I recommend checking out Amitabhan’s website.
These moments, these times when I’m connecting deeply, when I feel loved, held, when my needs are getting met in unexpected ways, choke me up. Right now I have a lump in my throat. These are the moments that remind me life is sweet, it’s supposed to be fun, and joyful. I can get caught up in the rat race, focusing on how I need to make more money, or checking things off my to-do list and forget this, these moments, are what life is about: having so much sweetness it breaks my heart.
I dream of a world where we all experience untold sweetness. A world where life breaks our heart (in a good way). A world where we remember why we’re here. A world where we embrace all the love in our lives. A world where we live in harmony with ourselves and each other.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I suck at transitions, especially when I’m not the one gallivanting off on the adventure. When my world stays the same minus one aspect – a friend moving away, for instance – then it’s as if I’ve entered the “Twilight Zone.” Life is the same but different. It’s this piece that drives me crazy, the instability, the insecurity, the ground shifting beneath my feet because things are not what they once were.
Every goodbye carries with it a new hello.
I’m not sure I have anything inspiring to say except I keep hearing an expression ringing in my ears: “You have to let go of the old to make way for the new.” When things are good, when I like the old, I don’t want to make way for the new. But I also recognize there could be some really good things up ahead. I could become close to someone new and my life could be enriched. I could experience something amazing I otherwise wouldn’t have been open to. Life could be so beautiful it would break my heart.
I guess where I’m at is grieving the loss, saying goodbye to the old, but understanding the new could be fantastic. And because I believe in an invisible hand, a guiding force, I know it will be in my best interest.
Am I sad to say goodbye to old friends? Yes, I am, BUT distance doesn’t mean the friendship dies and really, who knows what’s next?
I dream of a world where we clear the old to make way for the new. A world where we grieve for the past yet welcome the future. A world where we live each moment feeling grateful for what we have because we understand it won’t last forever.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I can't believe I'm typing this but I'm seriously considering going back to Washington, D.C. for a little while. A friend of mine offered to let me stay in her house where she has a second bedroom and a basement for as long as I need. All of my stuff is in storage in SF and I'm having so much trouble finding a place to live, so it's an option.
One of the things holding me back is the idea I will be regressing or going backward. If you know me well or have been following this blog, you'll know I moved to San Francisco from Washington, D.C. To go back almost seems as if I'm regressing.
What I'm reminding myself of is going back to a place I lived before doesn't mean I'm traveling back in time or moving backward. A physical place is just that — a physical place. I am not the same person I was when I lived there and nor would my life look the same. Yes, it's clear I don't want to live in D.C. for a long period of time, but for a few months? Would that really be so bad?
This whole thing also brings up the notion of my plan versus my higher power's plan. To me, moving forward means never going back. It means once I've left a place it's in the dust, I'll never return. But my higher power/the Universe/whatever doesn’t see things in such a black and white way. Nor are things always so straightforward. Life moves in crazy circles and offshoots and k-turns and not the straightforward trajectory I think it does.
I guess I'm saying just because we go back to a place we've been before — either literally or figuratively — doesn't mean we're backsliding. It doesn't mean we're not growing as people, and it doesn't mean we're not right where we're supposed to be. Just because we didn't expect to be in that spot doesn't mean it's not a part of the process because sometimes going backward can really mean we're moving forward.
I dream of a world where we understand forward movement may look like we're backsliding sometimes. A world where we imbibe the idea sometimes it's necessary to return to somewhere we've been before. A world where we embrace change in all of its mysterious manifestations. A world where we understand backward can be forward.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
I must confess the title for this post comes from a book I haven’t read but have heard about. The concept of “This too shall pass,” I’m really struggling with. Someone said people respond to our truth so that’s what I’m writing about, what’s true for me. Even if it feels like it’s the same damn thing over and over again.
It became clear to me recently I have something similar to post-traumatic stress disorder. Whenever there are loud noises in my apartment or near my apartment, I go into a full-on panic. I start shaking, my heart starts beating faster and I am consumed with fear. Whenever I complain about hearing the pulse of music in the house below me the responses are invariably, “Have you tried earplugs? Or your white noise machine?” And “You can blare your own music!” I appreciate the sentiments, but really all I want is empathy. Because the super low pulse of bass cannot be drowned out. When the noise is a low, steady thumping, it gets into your body like a heartbeat. There’s a reason people have used drums for war calls – the sound travels across great distances.
Life is like a little boat upon the sea. . .
So instead of being able to do anything about it, I have to sit and listen to the damn noise until it’s turned off. And as I listen to it I start to chant like a mantra, “This too shall pass, this too shall pass. This is temporary. I won’t be here much longer. It will stop.” I know with utmost certainty this keeps happening to me because this issue is begging to be healed. It may not seem like it to other people but it was really traumatic not being able to sleep for five months because of loud music and other noises in my former apartment. This thing with noise keeps happening to me because I haven’t dealt with the issue – instead I keep running from one place to another hoping this time it will be better. It is usually better but I still get triggered.
In the interim, I have to keep reminding myself no storm lasts forever. I had an acute awareness of the transience of my situation on Friday night. I took a shower and the water pooled around my feet three inches deep. This has happened to me before. I chronicled it in my book in a chapter called, “The Sublet from Hell.” At the same time I started rewatching “Felicity,” a show that was on in 1998. When “Felicity” was on the air in 1998 I was mostly depressed, fantasizing about the day I would have numerous friends who lived nearby. Wishing for a time someone would call me up to hang out. The confluence of these two events – showering in a pool of water and rewatching “Felicity” – reminded me how different my live is now and also how temporary. These days I have what I dreamed about, and I lived through a situation that was also unbearable at the time. In that moment I really felt the impermanence of my situation. I felt centered in the truth no storm lasts forever.
This is an important lesson because when I’m in pain I think I’ll be in pain forever. I go to a negative place and don’t believe things will ever change. Even if I know intellectually that’s not true, my subconscious or whatever it is, takes over and I don’t believe it. All I can think about is how I’m in pain and isn’t it terrible, and “nothing will ever change.” It’s important for me to cling onto my boat and ride the waves because in truth, no storm lasts forever.
I dream of a world where we grasp how impermanent every situation is. Even if it’s longer term, it will also pass. Nothing is constant in life except change. I dream of a world where we ride through each situation, where as Winston Churchill says, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” A world where we understand as long as it may seem, no storm lasts forever.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.