It’s been a crazy whirlwind of a week and the only thing that comes to mind is this post I wrote nearly two years ago in January 2017. I’m sharing it again now.
I asked a friend the other day how he maintains hope and faith when the whole world seems to have gone mad, and he told me he views life as a drama – there will be happy parts and sad parts and scary parts. He doesn’t expect life to be a smooth ride where nothing happens.
He also told me a particular scene we find distasteful could be pivotal to the story – in hindsight we may find certain actions were crucial.
I like his perspective – it helps me to detach a little and not become quite so dismayed at the events in the world. I’m not saying I no longer care, nor that we should sit back and do nothing. Rather, his perspective reminds me this is reality. I want everyone to be happy all the time. I want life to proceed in a straight line improving day by day. I want rainbows and sunshine and kittens prancing through fields all day long. But that’s not what we’re living in, and that’s never what we’ve lived in. Life is a series of ups and downs, twists and turns. And furthermore, there are good people and bad people, just like in any riveting tale. There are heroes and villains, and I hate to admit it, but the villains usually prompt the heroes to leave the house. If the villains weren’t engaging in some nefarious scheme, the heroes would twiddle their thumbs and maybe knit a scarf. Personally, I’d find that kind of story dull and would ask for my money back.
So melodramatic.
Similarly, real life is the same way. There are heroes and villains, there are wise advisers and fools. We all have our parts to play, but unfortunately, no one handed us a script or fed us our lines.
My spiritual teacher says, “When human beings bring something within the scope of their intellect, and by perceiving and observing it closely, can understand the cause behind it, this is called kriidá; and when the cause is beyond the scope of their thinking it is called liilá [or play]. Whatever the Macrocosm does is beyond the periphery of the human intellect, and that is why whatever He does is His liilá.”
My interpretation of this quote is a lot of stuff happens in this world. Some of it I will understand and some of it I won’t, and maybe never will. The stuff I don’t understand is liilá or play. My point of view is instead of agonizing over why this happened or why this didn’t happen, it’s better for me to take the mindset that life is a play, life is a drama, something I get to witness unfolding.
What I also believe to be true is ultimately the arc of civilization bends toward the beneficent. Ultimately things improve for all of us. However, getting there sometimes requires clash and conflict. Sometimes things get crazy and bizarre, like any good drama, before they are sorted out. It seems to me right now our society is in the middle of an important and intense scene, one that I’d like to believe is leading us somewhere better, but it won’t make sense until later on when the story plays out.
I dream of a world where we view life as a drama. A world where we realize the ups and downs are a part of life. A world where we understand we all have our part to play and we play it with gusto. A world where we keep doing our part trusting eventually the story will resolve.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Right now wildfires besiege California. Tens of thousands have lost their homes and many more have evacuated. Where I live, the weather forecast this weekend was “smoky.” Firefighters are working around the clock to contain the conflagration. The only thing that comes to mind is that quote from Winston Churchill who said, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” It applies to the people working tirelessly to keep us safe, to the people fleeing for their lives, and to the people unaffected by the blazes.
I’m not a firefighter, but I’m also fighting some battles. Somehow I picked up poison oak on my feet. How that happened is a mystery – likely the one day I sat outside barefoot on redwood leaves they previously touched poison oak. What that means is my right foot in particular looks unhappy. I’ll spare you the details because I get grossed out by those sorts of things, but my doctor assures me with poison oak, it gets worse before it gets better. Right now I don’t really believe her. It’s hard to see my skin returning to normal when things look so bad right now.
Sometimes life is a matter of putting one foot in front of the other. Photo by Simon Migaj on Unsplash
Similarly, with my novel, I don’t believe I’ll hit 50,000 words at the end of the month. Every day I’m meeting or exceeding the daily word count to reach that goal, but it still seems nigh impossible. Why is that? Because I’m in the thick of things. I’m continuing to battle and the tide hasn’t turned yet. I could stop. We all could. We all could give up, surrender, admit defeat. But where does that leave us?
I also want to acknowledge here it’s difficult to keep fighting. It’s difficult to continue moving forward when the task before us seems overwhelming. I don’t envy the firefighters in California right now, nor do I envy anyone confronting a battle of their own. But I support them, and myself, and everyone else. I will keep cheering from the sidelines as many are doing for me. And I will hold out hope for the fire to die and the smoke to clear, just like it has where I live. I don’t know what the future holds, but on Sunday morning, I looked out my window and saw a blue sky above the smoke layer for the first time in days. May we all see blue skies literally and figuratively sooner rather than later.
I dream of a world where we keep fighting when the situation calls for it. A world where we understand sometimes it takes a while before the tides turn and victory is in sight. A world where we cheer each other on as we all go through our own versions of hell. A world where we keep going.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The other week I had a conversation with a friend who told me instead of following conventional wisdom and keeping his part-time job to pay the bills, he devoted himself completely to his own business and went into debt. And now, years later, his business is taking off and turning a profit. I love stories like this because they remind me there isn’t only one way to do things.
Our society likes to give advice – we spend millions of dollars on self-help books every year. We constantly think someone else knows how to do things. We hear people say things like, “It’s when you stop looking for a relationship that you find one,” and absorb it like the gospel truth. Except, for every couple who had that experience, I can name another pair who married because they met through a dating app. They were actively looking and it worked out.
Sometimes we have to forge our own way. Photo by Nathan McBride on Unsplash.
As for myself, it’s scary and thrilling to contemplate there’s more than one way to do things. It’s scary and thrilling for me to contemplate that sometimes conventional wisdom is wrong. It feels much safer to purchase an e-course for four easy payments of $99.99 that will give me the steps to success. A guarantee that I, too, can have the life of my dreams if I only follow the advice of someone else. I want to acknowledge here self-help books and e-courses have merit. I’ve purchased many of them and they improved my life, but only the books and courses that encouraged me to seek my own internal wisdom. The books and courses that led me deeper into myself were the most helpful because ultimately we are each our own compass.
According to my spiritual philosophy, we are each a reflection of Cosmic Consciousness. We are all mirrors showing an image of the same moon, so to speak. However, each mirror is unique with different shapes and sizes. Some mirrors are dirtier than others. Some mirrors are cracked. But each mirror is still reflecting the moon. And when I think about my mirror reflecting the moon, I feel more at peace because the inner compass exists. I have a guide already to show me where I need to go.
Last week I spoke about trusting in the divine and understanding the universe may only light up one or two steps in front of me. But the path is there, and sometimes the path requires I deviate from the established footsteps of those before me. Sometimes it means heading into uncharted territory but that doesn’t mean I’m without a guide.
I dream of a world where we remember we have our own internal guidance system. A world where we realize sometimes we have to find our own way and it may not always make sense. A world where we understand we are all different and what works for someone else may not work for us. A world where we understand sometimes we have to flout conventional wisdom.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
A few years ago I went to a neuro-linguistic programming workshop and the organizer said desire works in one of two ways: push or pull. We either say, “Yes, that” about something, or “No, not this.” What I’m realizing is intuition works in the same way.
I’m familiar with the “yes, that” intuition – it drove me to move to San Francisco, to call that person last week, to read that book. I know how to handle “yes, that” intuition. “No, not this” is more challenging. I don’t mean the one-off, “Don’t go down that dark alley” sort. That’s easy to listen to. What I find more difficult is the sort of intuition that says, “You can’t live here” and there’s no other home showing up. Or the intuition that says, “You can’t work here” but another job is not on the horizon. It’s the directionless, leap-of-faith intuition that unnerves me.
I associate light with the divine. Photo by Micah Hallahan on Unsplash.
My spiritual teacher defines intuition as a reflection of Consciousness, or Spirit. He also says that meditation leads to a clearer reflection of Consciousness. When I think about it like that, intuition becomes more simple. It’s a snapshot in time. It’s an expression of something greater than me, not a seven-point plan for life.
Something I often tell my mentees is higher power will shine a flashlight, dictating where to put our feet next, and that’s it. I want higher power to light up the sky and show me all the steps, give me all the directions, indicate exactly where I’m heading, but it doesn’t always work that way. In my experience, the way forward is often unknown and my part is to trust the path will appear. Even when it’s scary, even when it doesn’t make sense, even when it flies in the face of conventional wisdom.
It’s interesting for me to notice when I play trust games with people I have no problems. I will close my eyes and allow myself to walk forward blindly, knowing the people I’m playing with will keep me from running into trees or stumbling over rocks. However, when it comes to trusting the divine, I don’t feel quite so fearless. I’d much rather keep my eyes open and see where I’m going.
The conclusion I’m coming to is at this point in my life my eyes must stay closed. I’m getting the full, well-rounded picture of intuition, trusting the future will be exactly what I need. Trusting that even though I can’t see what’s next, the divine can and is taking care of it.
I dream of a world where we recognize intuition doesn’t always guide us to something, that sometimes it steers us away from something. A world where we realize we can’t always know exactly what’s next. A world where we remember taking a leap of faith means trusting in the divine and we do just that.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Lately I’ve been thinking about the role of the individual and the collective and how sometimes the individual’s desires are met at the expense of the collective’s. In particular, I’m thinking in the context of climate change. Recently I read the most horrific article about climate change predicting a genocide from it. How in some places drought will last for five years. Five years! People, I’m not too proud to admit I’m terrified, because I am.
I also thought about how we got into this mess and from my perspective anyway, it seems in many cases we put short-term gain before long-term sustainability. How some corporations decided as long as they could make a profit now, that’s all that mattered. The future? Well, that’s in the future. Worry about it then. I realize I’m painting corporations as the villain, but corporations are made up of people. I see shortsightedness in individuals as well. When I lived in London, I had a roommate who steamed a dress by running the shower while she puttered around in the bedroom. When I called her on it, she said, “Well, I pay for the water.” Her response dumbfounded me. What do you even say to that? She felt like she had every right to waste water because she paid for it. In that circumstance anyway she didn’t think about the impact of her actions. She only thought about how she wanted her dress wrinkle-free but didn’t want to expend time ironing it.
We’re all spinning on the same blue planet. Photo by NASA on Unsplash.
Sometimes we live in bubbles and think our actions don’t affect other people or our environment. We don’t think about how interdependent we all are. On the other hand, sometimes we take too much responsibility. I read another article in the Guardian about how our personal actions to combat climate change only go so far. Switching to compact fluorescent light bulbs only does so much. Of course it makes a difference, but the scale is small compared with the greenhouse gases emitted by agribusiness and factories. Many of us have bought into the idea solving climate change is the individual’s responsibility. It is. And it’s not. We must work in tandem. Carry a canvas tote bag but also put pressure on corporations to change their ways. Drive an electric car but also demand the government build better public transportation infrastructure.
This post is a little all over the place but what I’m getting at is sometimes for the good of the collective we have to sacrifice a little. Sometimes for the good of the collective we can’t think only of ourselves and what works for us. Sometimes we have to think about other people too and the environment and how all the pieces fit together. We have to remember we aren’t our own ecosystems. We aren’t islands completely removed from others. We all fit together and that means our selfish and self-centered tendencies must be reigned in. We are individuals and we are a collective. Both matter and both have a part to play. For the long-term health of the planet, we must learn to work together in harmony.
I dream of a world where we balance the needs of individuals with the needs of society as a whole. A world where we keep in mind the future and long-term sustainability of the planet and each other. A world where we learn to work in harmony for the good of all of us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This weekend I met someone formerly associated with my yoga and meditation group way back in the 70s when he lived in Atlanta. That may not seem especially remarkable, but it’s literally never happened to me before. I’ve met people who had some exposure to it, but not people who engaged with the practices and then drifted away. My yoga and meditation group, while worldwide, is small and the chances of an affiliation with it coming up in a first conversation with someone at a party is unlikely. I grin thinking about the encounter from this weekend because it reminds me the universe is not random and chaotic. There is an order and an intelligence at play of which I get glimpses sometimes.
I take comfort in believing order and intelligence reigns because there are a lot of things going on in the world and in my life that I don’t understand, that I wish were different. There are certain elected officials I wish weren’t in office. There are certain policies I wish were abolished. I wish my body reacted differently to certain foods. I wish I didn’t have certain ailments. And when I spend all my time wishing things were different – while also working to change them – I get frustrated and feel like I’m beating my head against a brick wall. I easily succumb to despair. When life throws a little magic, a little synchronicity my way, hope flares up again and I’m reminded that perhaps I’m unable to see the whole picture. That I’m a character in a play that only knows her lines and not the lines of everyone else.
And then there’s sand timer time. Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash
The other reason I appreciate the encounter from this weekend is the demonstration that things circle back. The man I met hasn’t been an active member of my group for nearly 50 years and now he might pick it up again. In my mind, if something doesn’t happen in the short term, it will never happen. I have big dreams and at the moment it seems like I’m veering away from them. I have sadness about that because these dreams are near and dear to my heart, but at the moment they aren’t feasible given my energy levels and my financial situation. Does that mean I give them up for good?
Intellectually I understand the answer to that question is “no.” I see many models in society of people who accomplished things later in life, but emotionally, the answer feels like a “yes.” The more reminders I have that things circle back, that dreams can be delayed, the better.
My spiritual teacher says that “whatever happens in this universe of ours is nothing but an expression of Cosmic desire or Cosmic will … when a human desire and His desire coincide, then only does the human desire become fruitful, otherwise it is a sure failure.”
Sometimes when I want something to happen doesn’t match up to when the cosmos wants something to happen. Sometimes the soil isn’t fertile enough. Sometimes you plant something and the yield is pitiful, but after adding nutrients to the soil, the yield is plentiful. I’m reminded here the universe is playing a long game. My recovery mentor says, “You’re looking at your watch while Higher Power is looking at the calendar.” My part I think is having patience, trust, and faith in the timing of things.
I dream of a world where we remember the universe has a long-term plan while many of us only think in the short term. A world where we recognize if we’re not ready for something just yet, it will circle back to us if it’s meant to be. A world where we realize while it may not seem so on the surface, the world is an ordered, intelligent place.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m sick right now so I can’t guarantee the eloquence of this post, but I wanted to write something anyway because I feel passionately about this topic. I’m observing a few things going on in the world right now. Tension is high. People are pissed, rightly so, at all the injustice running rampant. I’m not a sexual assault survivor, but I was also affected by the Ford-Kavanaugh hearing. To listen to so many horrible stories from people and to witness some of the reactions to them didn’t make me feel good. Everyone wants to feel seen, heard, and respected and when we’re not, it’s painful.
I also notice people in power are pissed too. Again, one only has to look at Kavanaugh’s testimony to see that. He didn’t show up to the hearing contrite. He showed up belligerent, denying all accusations. The New Yorker ran an opinion piece declaring the Ford-Kavanaugh hearing will be remembered as a “grotesque display of patriarchal resentment.”
We are one big family. Photo by rawpixel on Unsplash
These are the times we’re living in. From an astrological perspective, there’s a whole lot of “othering” going on, as in separating from others, erecting boundaries, and dehumanizing people. Astrology is not causal, it’s instead like a map, and in this instance, we as a society are demonstrating the disintegrated version of the Saturn:Pluto transit. Othering is not limited to sexism, its showing up everywhere. It shows up in the treatment of people of color, in immigrants, of the LGBTQIA community. Anyone who doesn’t fall into the majority is subjected to “othering.” What’s interesting for me to notice though is even those who are privileged and in the majority are not immune to being “othered.” I read an exchange on facebook where a white man posted something he thought was supportive of the #metoo movement and a woman blasted him for it because she thought otherwise. She said instead his post played into patriarchy, that he is part of the problem, that he’s another privileged white dude perpetuating the disempowerment of women.
I get where people are coming from and at the same time I’m reminded of a quote someone shared on facebook that struck me as relevant for the times we’re living in: “If you don’t heal what hurt you, you’ll bleed all over the person who didn’t cut you.” Yep. Lots of bleeding right now. Lots of hurt people walking around. We are all taking out our pain on each other.
What is the solution here? The solution I think is three-fold: One, to heal what hurt us, whatever that looks like. Two, I think it’s important to practice empathy, to understand the perspective of all our siblings. We don’t all have the same experiences, but we all have the same needs. There is more that binds us than divides us. Lastly, as philosopher P.R. Sarkar writes in his book, The Liberation of Intellect: Neohumanism, “You will have to carry the collectivity with you, because the collectivity is yours. The collectivity is not outside you – your future is inseparably connected with the collective fortune. You must take the entire collectivity with you and move toward the sweetest radiance of the new crimson dawn, beyond the veil of the darkest night.”
We are a collective, moving together. We are a universal family sharing the resources of this planet. We are like a garden filled with numerous flowers, but ultimately all a part of the same garden. Like flowers, on the surface we have different petals, different leaves. Some of us require more water and some of us require less, but we are all flowers. We all require care and attention and I truly believe we can make it so.
I dream of a world where we all work together to take care of each other. A world where we seek to understand our kith and kin. A world where we remember we have more in common than we might believe. A world where we realize there is no “other,” only us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
My apartment building is up for sale. Suffice to say, I’m freaking out about it because I’m worried I’ll have to move. To be clear, the building hasn’t been sold yet, there’s no evidence to support my anxiety, but it’s here nonetheless. It’s here because finding a place to live has proved challenging for me. I’ve moved 31 times in 33 years. From 2012 to 2015, I moved on average every three months. Something always forced me out – my landlady’s dog biting me and drawing blood, bad neighbors, an inhospitable landlady, etc. It’s always been something out of my control so my current situation is resurrecting a lot of trauma because this, too, is out of my control.
I spoke with a friend on Friday and she reminded me that even if I bought a house, something could happen like a wildfire or flooding. Those are real scenarios as we’ve all seen. There’s no absolute certainty, no guaranteed safety, and for an anxious person, that’s the last thing I want to contemplate. My friend and my therapist remind me real safety comes from the ability to respond to a situation. To pivot as necessary. Safety means rolling with the punches.
Not my house but I like the mix of something steadfast with a home. Photo by Seth kane on Unsplash.
Right now I’d rather not roll with the punches, thank you very much. Right now I’d like to hide away under the covers and withdraw from the world. I don’t particularly want to write this blogpost either but I am because this is what I do, I write. I also know there are many people who feel similarly – maybe not about housing, but about something else.
Where do I go from here? From here, I fall back on my spiritual practices, where I always go. According to my spiritual philosophy there is an unchanging, absolute, eternal entity. Some people call that entity God or Cosmic Consciousness or Source or the Universe. The name doesn’t matter so much. My meditation is an effort to move ever closer to that unchanging, absolute, eternal entity and then to merge with it. One of the names for this practice in Sanskrit is Iishvara prańidhána. Iishvara means controller of the universe and prańidhána means to adopt something as a shelter. Therefore, Iishvara prańidhána means to adopt the controller of the universe as a shelter. It means to take refuge in the controller of the universe. That sounds academic, I know, but in essence it means to align myself with the divine.
What does that mean about my fear surrounding housing? It means one way to deal with the fear is to put myself in the Cosmic flow, to allow myself to be sheltered by something bigger than me. To accept the protection of my higher power with the nuance that bad things happen and good things happen and through it all I have a permanent, unwavering shelter.
I dream of a world where we take permanent shelter in something bigger than us. A world where we recognize certainty doesn’t come from things staying rigid but rather shoring up our internal strength and resilience to respond to stimuli. A world where we recognize there is an unchanging entity we can attach ourselves to and that’s where real security lies.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
All week I’ve bobbed along on an ocean of grief, coming in and out of numbness. Another community member of mine died, a monk from my yoga and meditation group. He had cancer so it wasn’t altogether unexpected, but still sad. I cried when I first heard the news and then I thought I was over it. Until I noticed I checked my email, facebook, and instagram a million times trying to dodge my grief. How I wanted to escape my life and be in someone else’s. Who wants to feel grief? Grief sucks.
In texting with a friend, I realized I have resistance to grieving, not only about this monk, but other losses in my life, because if I do, that means I’ve fully let go. It’s a real and final goodbye. And in order to keep the person a presence in my life, I’ve tried to block my feelings. Like a child who says, “If I don’t say goodbye to you then you can’t leave, right?” But they have and can and do. Whether I say goodbye or not doesn’t matter. And even when I do say goodbye, even when I know a person is knocking on death’s door, it still doesn’t mean I’m ready to bid them adieu. Is anyone ever truly ready to say goodbye to someone?
“Becoming the ocean” is no easy task. Photo by Ngaere Woodford-Bender on Unsplash.
When I was much younger, I remember trying to comfort my dad after someone died. I tried to console him with the notion that we’re all still connected. That just because a person has left their physical body doesn’t mean the relationship has severed. Nor does it mean we won’t reunite, especially as he and I believe in reincarnation. I’ll never forget, he countered with, “Yeah, but we’ll never meet each other again in this life.” That’s what grief is; recognizing and honoring that loss. No amount of saying, “You’ll see each other again,” can sidestep the loss.
So I’m crying in fits and spurts. I’m also contemplating what my spiritual teacher said about the dissolution of ego. How many people are scared of merging with something bigger than themselves because they view it as annihilation. To describe the process he uses the metaphor of a salt doll and the sea. He says, “If a salt doll goes to measure the sea, it will melt into it. Neither can it measure the sea, nor will it ever return; its existence will merge into the vastness of the sea, releasing it from all cares and worries. If one wishes to take the form of the sea, one will have to become the sea itself; there is no other way.”
If I wish to continue progressing in this life, I have to become the sea itself. I have to let go. To feel the feelings that I’m blocking. And in doing so, I’ll come upon something bigger than me. The salt doll becomes the ocean. Perhaps the grief I feel is carrying me toward something else, something bigger that I’m unaware of. And instead of the loss of my friends as final, maybe I’m traveling to a place altogether new. I’m not sure. Only time will tell.
I dream of a world where we allow ourselves to grieve the dead. A world where we realize the relationship changes into something new. A world where we surrender to the process we’re undertaking and allow ourselves to be swept away, letting go of the old and embracing the new.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The other day in an email to my recovery mentor I wrote, “There is grace in limitation.” My eyes about bugged out of my head. I couldn’t believe I wrote that because I’m all about freedom, innovation, and unencumbered roaming, yet as I typed it, I realized it’s true.
From my perspective, U.S. culture lionizes pushing boundaries, tearing down walls, unhindered growth. All of that has its place, but so does maintaining boundaries, erecting walls, and hindered growth. I think about shoes. When my sister and I were little, we used to play dress up and wear our mother’s shoes. We clattered around in her too-big high heels, but we couldn’t competently walk in them. Her shoes contained too much space for our feet. In order to not trip over ourselves, we have to wear shoes that are only slightly bigger than our feet. We all need some limits.
I like the life within these shoes. Seems fitting for this post. Photo by Mika on Unsplash
Right now I’m living in the land of limits. My sleep is still terrible, my energy is still low. I’m possibly on a precipice of change but I don’t know for sure. I’m still in limbo, waiting to find out. And instead of rebelling against my situation like I normally do, for this week anyway I’m recognizing there is grace here too.
The message to me right now seems to be, “It’s OK to go slow. It’s OK to rest. It’s OK to take things easy, for life to be small.” I’m not zooming ahead. I’m not initiating new projects or learning new things. I’m sitting still and letting that be allowed.
I know I’ve mentioned this before, but my spiritual teacher characterizes movement as systaltic, like a heartbeat. A pulse. He said, “Now everything moves and that movement is of systaltic nature. Wherever there is any movement there is pulsation. Without pulsation there cannot be any movement. And this pulsation, that is movement through speed and pause, is an essential factor for each and every animate or inanimate object. Wherever there is existential factor there must be this pulsation. An entity acquires strength and stamina during the pause phase, and emanates vibration during the speed period. There cannot however, be any absolute speed or absolute pause in the created world.”
My takeaway from that is no matter what phase we’re in – speed or pause – is natural, normal. There is no period that’s wasted or bad or however else I sometimes think of the pause. The pause is just as crucial as the sprint because that’s where strength and stamina are acquired. There is grace here. There is good here. There is God here.
I dream of a world where we remember all phases of life are natural and normal. A world where we recognize the good in pausing, in stopping, in waiting. A world where we realize pausing is a crucial part of life. A world where we realize there is grace in limitation.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.