I read an article in my university’s alumni magazine the other day about Andre Ingram, who at 32 became a rookie for the LA Lakers. Reading his story I teared up because the whole thing seems so surreal, so unlikely.
Since he was 8, Andre dreamed of playing for the NBA. He played in high school and then at our university. Once he graduated, he toiled for years in the NBA’s minor league. And I do mean toiled – he made $13,000 for the entire season in the minor leagues, which is less than what NBA players make for a couple of games. He tutored kids in math while his wife also worked. He says he thought about quitting several times, and some friends advised the same, or to find a better payday overseas. But he persisted.
This picture seemed appropriate. Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash
“Every time I was ready to jump off that ledge something pulled me back,” he said. “Whether it was in training, when I’m hitting every shot I take, or in the weight room getting encouraged by the guys. My story is to let that voice, let that encouragement, pull you back in.”
Andre is the oldest American rookie in the NBA since 1964. His story fascinates me because at what point does a person give up on their dream? Sometimes a dream is a delusion. We’ve all seen those auditions on TV where someone thinks they’re an amazing singer or dancer and they have zero talent. To the rest of the world, it’s obvious the person will never be a star, but they can’t believe it. At what point is it harmful to keep believing a dream? At what point is it better to let it go? I don’t have the answers to those questions. I’m sure many people told Andre it was unlikely he’d ever play in the NBA. A 32-year-old with gray hairs competing against people 10 years his junior? What are the odds he could share the court with them? But it happened.
What struck me the most about Andre’s story is that quote I shared about how something kept pulling him back. Every time he wanted to quit, something kept him from doing it. That to me reeks of intuition, which my spiritual teacher defines as a reflection of consciousness or spirit. Just like a mirror, the reflection can become cloudy, but the more we connect to consciousness or spirit, the clearer the reflection will be.
Again, I don’t have all the answers, but it seems to me if something keeps coming up over and over again, it’s likely intuition. But if I get an idea in my head and convince myself it’s true despite all evidence to the contrary, it’s likely delusion. It seems to me there’s a fine line between a dream and a delusion. Perhaps the joy of being human is figuring it out. Sometimes we’re disappointed but sometimes we’re ecstatic. The thrill is finding out which we’ll experience.
I dream of a world where we walk the fine line between pursuing our dreams and dropping our delusions. A world where we keep going when something reels us back in. A world where we understand something may seem out of reach, but that doesn’t always mean it is.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Right now I’m editing a re-translation of a philosophy book for my yoga and meditation group. It’s engrossing stuff (for me) because I’m curious about how the world works. I’m always interested in the “why” of everything and this book is answering many questions. One of the tenets, which is also a law of nature, is that for every action, there is an opposite and equal reaction. Something I find fascinating is the book talks about how inescapable that is.
My spiritual teacher says some people will pray to escape the consequences of their actions, or perform rituals to appeal to the gods, but it’s not possible. All that can happen is a delay, like paying back a loan. You can set the terms for 18 months or three years, but the loan will be repaid. Also, for the purposes of this post I won’t address miracles, like when a person was supposed to die but their life was saved. I’m speaking in general terms about how both good and bad, our actions have consequences.
Globes seemed like the perfect image to illustrate this post. Photo by Duangphorn Wiriya on Unsplash
In looking at our current president, I see life catching up to him. The noose is tightening around his neck, so to speak. The evidence continues to mount regarding Russia meddling with the U.S. election to place him into power. Trump is being exposed for all his wrongdoings like laundering money, assaulting women, etc. In some ways it seems like he’s untouchable because we’ve known these things for years, and yet he remains not only free, but still in power. It boggles the mind, and personally, boils my blood.
I’m reminded here that what goes around comes around. One of the other things the philosophy book mentions is that not all consequences manifest during the lifetime in which they incurred, meaning sometimes they manifest in another life. However, no one is invulnerable. No one can escape their fate, no matter how many people they pay off.
I realize this post isn’t very sunshine-y but that’s where I’m at today, feeling somber. I’m thinking about how people, myself included, want to lie for self-preservation. How it’s easier to say, “I didn’t do that,” rather than admit the truth and deal with the repercussions. The repercussions aren’t always fun, but they will catch up to us eventually. That’s why my spiritual teacher cautions taking good actions. Good actions result in good consequences and bad actions result in bad consequences.
In the short term we may benefit from lying, cheating, and stealing, but in the long run we will not. I’m reminded of that quote from John Wesley who said, “Do all the good you can. By all the means you can. In all the ways you can. In all the places you can. At all the times you can. To all the people you can. As long as ever you can.” Words to live by.
I dream of a world where we realize our actions have consequences. A world where we understand we can’t run away from repercussions. A world where we try our best to do all the good we can by all the means we can. A world where we remember what goes around comes around and we act accordingly.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Almost exactly a year ago, my coworker died unexpectedly. The news hit me harder than I anticipated, particularly because we weren’t close. Now a year later, my heart still twinges with grief. My company has long since replaced him – someone new writes for us – but in reality people are not like auto parts and therefore not replaceable.
I notice in American culture we tend to believe the opposite; we commodify others, especially in the context of romantic relationships. How often do we say to someone after a breakup, “You’ll meet someone new”? As if the new person will act like putty and exactly fill the vacant space? I realize it comes from a well-meaning place, but Eric’s death shows me how not true this perspective is, for me anyway. We hired someone to literally fulfill all the duties Eric left open, but the new guy is no Eric. He performs his job well, but he’s not a replica of Eric.
People are not mechanical parts. Photo by Aaron Barnaby on Unsplash
Going back to dating, I notice the same thing – I still miss certain things about my exes. Each new man brought something different to the table, but they didn’t erase the person before. Instead of acting like putty, each person has a place in my heart that is theirs and theirs alone, but they share the space with others. No one is forgotten, and no one is replaced, including me. Up until about two years ago, I feared once I died it would be like I never existed, which I think stemmed from inherited family trauma. On my mom’s side, almost all of my relatives were killed in the Holocaust. Entire swathes of my family are a big question mark. In some ways, it’s like they never existed because I know nothing about them, but it’s not true: They did exist.
Even though I don’t know the names of my distant relatives, they still existed. They still impacted the people around them, including those who survived. And their loss still left a mark. Eric’s loss still leaves a mark. It always will because he’s not some cog in a wheel I throw away once it stops functioning.
My spiritual teacher says, “If one ant meets a premature death, it will disturb the balance of the entire cosmos. Therefore, nothing here is unimportant, not even an ant.” I don’t think I fully imbibed that statement before. Today I understand it on a whole new level – how each and every being is important, significant. Even the overlooked and often maligned ant is precious, loved, important. Each person, each relationship, be it personal or professional, is special. It’s a disservice to ourselves and others to pretend differently.
I dream of a world where we realize each person is irreplaceable. A world where we realize each relationship occupies a place in our heart. A world where we understand every living being is important and precious.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
On Saturday, I cried while sitting in my bathtub reading a fictional book set during World War II. The characters are imaginary, but the circumstances are not. I cried thinking about the atrocities that my own grandparents endured, and I cried thinking about the atrocities people continue to endure. Even now, children sit in jails, unwashed, covered in lice. Thank goodness a lawsuit is underway, but still. Why do we do this to each other?
According to my spiritual philosophy, people reincarnate. And not only do they reincarnate, they evolve. Evolve from what? They start from the simplest organism and get progressively more complex until finally reaching human form. What that means on a practical level is some people are only one step removed from animals. Some people are still guided by their baser instincts and unable to access higher levels of their consciousness. Before someone sends me an email and says many animals behave better than some human beings, I will say, yes, you are correct. Many animals, especially domesticated ones, shows high levels of compassion and love. Wild animals though? Not as common.
I like how hearts permeate the darkness here. Photo by Element5 Digital on Unsplash.
It would be easy to say some human beings just aren’t as evolved and leave it at that, but human beings are complicated. It’s not only about evolution, but also about what propensities, or vrttis, we choose to engage with. Some people derive pleasure from cruelty and hatred. In New Age circles, people liken this to operating from the lower chakras, or energy centers. However, in my spiritual tradition, that’s a little too simplistic. Almost every chakra point has positives and negatives. For instance, the throat chakra is associated not only with sweet expression, but vitriolic expression as well. We all have the capacity for both good and evil within us.
Why am I bringing this up? I’m suggesting the importance of holding on to our empathy. We’ve all seen movies where the tortured become the torturers. Where victims become perpetrators. I’m not suggesting good and moral people of the world just “be nice” to neo-Nazis and their ilk and hope the ensuing treatment will change their minds. I’m not a pacifist by any means. I firmly believe in the use of force when necessary. However, I also think it’s important to not fuel hatred within ourselves. To remember we are all human beings, worthy and deserving of love and respect. For instance, even prisons should be like a reform school, according to my spiritual teacher. And the person in charge should be a teacher who is trained in psychology and who has genuine love for society.
Why does he say this? I don’t know for sure, but I’m guessing it’s because merely turning one group of people after another into inferior beings merely perpetuates the abuse cycle. There’s that famous poem from Martin Niemöller about how first they came for the socialists and he did not speak out because he was not a socialist, and then eventually they came for him and there was no one left to speak for him. Not only does he suggest speaking up for others, but he demonstrates how hatred travels from group to group.
What I’d like to see is a world where we halt hatred in its tracks. A world where we remember all human beings, regardless of their race, nationality, gender, sexual orientation, etc., are human beings. A world where we treat each person as a sibling, a member of our universal family. A world where we take corrective action, but we do it with love in our hearts. A world where we sow love among hate.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I want to live in the fast lane. I don’t mean snorting cocaine and spending money like there’s no tomorrow. I mean I want things to happen quickly like fire – swift, consuming, noticeable. Instead, things happen like a seed planted in dirt – slow, unassuming, subtle.
Here’s a true story: In January, I planted California poppy seeds. In March, everyone else’s poppies started to bloom. Mine did not. I checked my poppies frequently, searching for signs of buds. Each day I stared at verdant green leaves, but no hints of orange. Finally, in about mid-May, the first bud appeared and then suddenly, a flower. It thrilled me to see orange after so many months of waiting. I beamed from ear to ear and pride swelled within me. But note, it took months, MONTHS, for my poppies to catch up to everyone else’s.
Seemed apropos. Not my poppy, but mine looked just like this.
Right now, I feel like those poppies, behind the times. Many of my friends are progressing in their lives. They’re buying houses, getting married, having babies, starting businesses. They are dating new people, starting new jobs. Things are not perfect – I am privy to their challenges as well as triumphs – but stuff is happening in their lives. The same is not true for me. Instead, I am a poppy plant with no hint of a bud.
A part of me thinks something is wrong that I’m not cycling with my peers. I’m not blooming while they are. However, I’m reminded of what my spiritual teacher said regarding movement. Movement is systaltic, like a heart beat. Do you know how a heart pumps blood? I learned this ages ago in AP bio. A heart is like a syringe – it fills up with blood, pauses at fullness, and then pushes all the blood out. In all of life, we experience this cycle. It’s the natural order of things to expand, pause, and contract.
I think I’m still in the expanding phase. I haven’t reached fullness yet. I’m still pulling nutrients from the soil. When I look at those around me, it’s hard not to compare myself with them. I know, I know, comparison is the thief of joy. I know compare usually leads to despair. I know I’m not doing myself any favors by comparing my life to anyone else’s, yet, I’m doing it anyway. It’s hard not to. When I think about my poppies, when I think about life being systaltic, I feel a smidge better because I’m reminded I am in my own cycle. It may take longer for things to bloom, but that doesn’t mean they won’t.
I dream of a world where we remember we each have our own cycles. A world where we realize sometimes things happen quickly and sometimes things happen slowly. A world where we realize there’s not much we can do about timing other than to take the required action and let go of the rest. And then one day, we’ll look and see a bloom.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
A few weeks ago I flew back to North Carolina. I visited the place of my childhood and found everything to be slightly familiar, but altogether vastly different. My childhood home burned down and in its place stood tall trees, grass, and shrubs. My elementary school also no longer exists. My favorite place (the library, of course), closed and moved to a new location. Walking around I couldn’t comprehend all the changes because in my mind, things stayed exactly the same. It’s a dangerous thing to only live in your head and not see reality for what it is.
I think part of what we’re experiencing here in the U.S. is the dichotomy of delusion and reality. On one side, we have people (like those in power) who lie ceaselessly, who convince themselves something is true when it’s false. My sister reminded me during our North Carolina visit that we live in a post-truth world. That’s why we have such a thing as fake news. It’s nothing new, propaganda has existed for ages, but now we’re seeing it more and we’re fighting it more. It’s important for me as a journalist and a yogi to stick to the truth as closely as possible.
Searched for “truth” and this is one of the pix that came up. Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash.
In Sanskrit, the unchangeable entity is Sat. The external manifestation of Sat is satya, or benevolent truthfulness. My spiritual teacher said, “Only satya or truth triumphs and not falsehood. Whenever there is a clash between truth and untruth, truth’s victory is inevitable. … Untruth, being a moving phenomenon, may attain a temporary victory on its march, but never a permanent one. … Falsehood does not win because it is relative, it is ever-changing.”
I bring this up because I think it’s important to acknowledge a truth about the United States. With every atrocious thing spewing from the current administration, people say, “This isn’t the real U.S. This isn’t the U.S. I know and love.” Oh, but it is my friends.
As much as we don’t like to admit it, the United States was founded on horrors similar to what we’re seeing now. We decimated Native American tribes. We regularly separated black people from their families under the guise of economic progress. Our country, the land of the free and the home of the brave, always carried a footnote, which is those things were true only for some. Our current president is carrying on the imperialist tradition. That’s not to say all Americans feel the way he does. It’s also not to say the U.S. hasn’t made great strides in equality for people of color, for women, for various sexual orientations, etc., because it has. But it would be disingenuous to say the behavior of the people in power in the current administration is “un-American.”
What does this have to do with my visit to North Carolina? Being there I gained more perspective of my past and was able to see a fuller picture. I finally saw the truth, and as the saying goes, the truth set me free. I’m grieving all that I lost, but first I had to see it. Until we collectively recognize our country’s racism, sexism, and prejudice, we’ll never be able to move forward. Until we see our true selves, our true past, we’ll never be rid of it. We’ll never be free.
My spiritual teacher is an optimist, and so am I. I know one day we will all be free. That no matter our immigration status, the color of our skin, our gender, our sexual orientation, or anything else, we will receive equal treatment. But first, we have to tell the truth.
I dream of a world where we remember the truth will prevail. A world where we stamp out falsehood and come to grips with reality. A world where all people are treated with love, kindness, and respect. A world where each person is valued for the beautiful and precious beings they are.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I didn’t sleep well last night so I’m recycling this blogpost from March 2014. It’s a message I need to hear and I’m sure others do as well. It’s a letter to me from my higher power. I’m defining my higher power as an unconditionally loving entity.
I love you. All is well. Your mind is caught up in many things – this and that – a lot of dramas that make life interesting, but in the end they don’t matter. All is well. All is love. Everything is working out the way it’s supposed to. Even your difficulties will pass eventually as you are progressing through your life, learning your lessons, and come more into the fullness of your being.
What a great photo, right? Photo by Stephen Leonardi on Unsplash.
Do not worry about how things will work out; just know they will work out. Do not live in the future where nothing is certain, nothing is guaranteed, and instead enjoy this moment of your life because there will never be another one like it. The future will take care of itself if you take care of yourself. Keep your thoughts optimistic and keep focusing on Me.
There are many things to distract you from realizing your goal, but remember the point of your life is not to acquire fame and wealth. Or kids and a partner. The point of your life is move closer to Me, toward spirit, toward love, toward the universe. The point of your life is to realize yourself not as you are now, but as you are meant to be – an incarnation of a cosmic entity. You are a divine and magnificent being full of wonder and love. Do not let yourself get bogged down by the trappings of human life because they too are an expression of Me.
You are on a path of love, of light, of truth. When you recall that, everything else will slip away because all is well. All is love. I love you and I am with you, now, forever, and always.
I dream of a world where we remember all is well. A world where we keep our minds pointed toward spirit. A world where we take care of ourselves and each other. A world where we detach from the dramas of today because we remember they, too, will pass. A world where we live in the fullness of our being because we know all is well.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
For the past few weeks, maybe longer, resentment has burned in my belly as I’ve seethed at the circumstances of my life. Where are all the things I was promised? The riches, the partner, the good health? The refrain in my head is, “I’m 33! I’m not supposed to feel this way! I’m supposed to have more energy than this!” And then I ask myself, “Says who?”
It’s a good question. Who told me life is supposed to be one way or another? Who said we’re all promised wealth, health, and partnership if we desire partnership? When I think about it, I likely picked up that story from the media, which praises a life of luxury, or from someone trying to sell me something. Someone who promised me all my dreams would come true if I purchased their course or their book.
What are my life’s promises? I’d like to read the contract again. Photo by rawpixel on Unsplash.
When I look at my spiritual philosophy, my teacher never said life would be easy, filled with sunshine and roses. In fact, he praised difficulties as they become the fodder for spiritual development. He said, “Human beings have been drifting along through constant clash and cohesion amidst endless waves of physical and psychic diversities.” That means at times we’ll encounter strife and at others we’ll encounter harmony. It’s unrealistic to think life will be easy all the time, because it won’t. That’s the nature of being alive.
I also think about what was actually promised to me, which is that I’ll move closer to the divine. That’s it. My teacher said, “Knowingly or unknowingly everyone is moving around [the Supreme entity]. Everyone is bound to move … This movement is a natural propensity born out of love for [the Cosmic Consciousness].” We keep moving closer and closer until eventually we unify with that Cosmic entity, according to my spiritual tradition. But nowhere is it written I’ll be thin, rich, pretty, and happily married.
When I take that perspective, I feel more at ease. It also makes all of my positive experiences even more precious. Nothing is promised to me, which gives me reason to cherish laughing with a friend or enjoying good food. Nothing is owed to me so it’s a privilege I’m able breathe freely or walk unaided. I can’t even count on the earth beneath my feet remaining solid, as a 3.5-magnitude earthquake reminded me the other day. Any thing can happen at any time, both good and bad. There are no guarantees in life other than once born we will die. For the time in between I’d like to see the good things in my life as gifts, to not take them for granted because they are not foregone conclusions.
I dream of a world where we realize there is no contract that stipulates we’ll all have health and wealth. A world where we realize there aren’t “supposed to’s” or how we “should” be as people or what we “should” experience. A world where we remember life didn’t promise us anything and that means what we go through is all the more precious.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I think it’s pretty clear I want to be famous. Not “get my picture taken while eating a hamburger in a car” famous, but “win awards and have people share my content” famous. I know fame doesn’t make anyone happy, I know the goal of my life is not fame, I know aiming for fame goes against all of my spiritual beliefs, and yet it’s still here.
I’ve wrestled with this aspect of myself for decades trying to reason with it, spin it, battle it, push it away. But it’s still here. On Wednesday, I listened to a radio show loosely about surrender and I burst into tears because I finally accepted this part of me. To surrender means to stop fighting and I stopped fighting this aspect of myself. I also started journaling about it, asking why I care so much.
This picture is perfect. Photo by Jakob Owens on Unsplash.
I seek fame because I want to prove myself, I want to showcase my “enough-ness.” I spoke with a friend about this and he suggested I make a list of all the ways I’ll finally be enough. I’ll be enough when _____. I made my list: “I’ll be enough when I’m a bestselling author. I’ll be enough when I go on Oprah. I’ll be enough when a celebrity retweets me.” I kept going until I reached the point when I wrote, “I’ll be enough when I feel worthy.”
As if to hammer the point home, I listened to another radio show by Nancy Levin, who used to be the events coordinator at Hay House before she transitioned into writing and coaching. To paraphrase, she said nothing on the outside will make you feel worthy if you don’t feel worthy on the inside. I know this. In fact, I’ve written this. But when I look back at my post on self-worth from nearly nine years, I hear a lot of judgment. A lot of dismissing. I didn’t honor my desire then or now.
When I look at the basic philosophy of my spiritual tradition, I have more perspective. The philosophy states we take everything and channel it toward the divine. It sounds like a lovely sentiment, but what does that actually mean? I’m not sure I know, but what I’m starting to understand is I can’t run from anything, including my desire for fame. I can’t escape anything. Maybe to use everything as a vehicle toward my unification with a power greater than myself means first that I have to accept what is here in a loving, compassionate way.
This blogpost deals with my desire for fame, but the concept is applicable to anything. It could be the part of ourselves that’s scared of others, or is greedy, or ashamed, or whatever. We can’t pretend that side doesn’t exist as much as we’d like that to be the case. We have to work with what’s here in order to have any power over it. I’ve likely used this quote before, but Carl Jung said, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you’ll call it fate.” I’d rather be an active participant in my fate and the only way to do that it seems is to stop running from the things I don’t like.
I dream of a world where we accept all parts of ourselves with compassion. A world where we realize just because we don’t like something doesn’t mean it goes away. A world where we embrace our inherent tendencies and still work to transform them into something else. A world where we channelize them toward something greater than ourselves.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This week I’ve contemplated the internalization of “-isms” such as racism, sexism, and classism. These are the ways that we’ve accepted our inferior or superior status. For me, I’ve realized how much the way I view writing and reading is tied to patriarchy. And maybe intellectualism. I like women’s fiction, also called chick lit. Think Bridget Jones’s Diary or Confessions of a Shopaholic. Those aren’t my favorite books, but I mention them because Hollywood turned them into movies so they’re more well-known.
I feel a sense of shame mentioning chick lit is my favorite genre because it’s looked down upon. It’s not serious or somehow “worthy.” In Joanna Russ’ book How to Suppress Women’s Writing, she mentions the various ways women are discouraged from writing. It’s assumed women didn’t write the things they did, or they channeled something outside of themselves, or they are judged more harshly for writing about the same things as men. In other cases, women are told they shouldn’t have written the things they wrote. There’s a notion certain subjects are more acceptable and worthy of acclaim than others, and wouldn’t you know it, those topics are most often addressed by men.
Maybe my taste is influenced by an “ism.” Photo by Rey Seven on Unsplash.
Love stories by women and for women are disparaged. I’ve internalized that viewpoint so much that a part of me doesn’t want to tell you I’m writing a love story because it’s not serious enough. It’s no Moby Dick, it’s not the next Great American Novel, and a part of me worries what other people will think of me. I’m not looking for reassurance here, I mention all this to demonstrate how subtle “-isms” are. Until I read Russ’ book, it didn’t occur to me that perhaps my perspective on women’s writing, including my own, was skewed by patriarchy and sexism. I didn’t question why working on my book felt a bit like a furtive teenager stealing liquor from her parents’ stash.
My spiritual teacher says, “In the existential sphere there cannot be any sort of complex, and our social order should be such that there remains no room for any complex. We have to make such a social order and we have to make it immediately without any loss of time.”
By complex he means inferiority complex, superiority complex, or fear complex. To paraphrase, he says we are all divine children of God, no one lesser, and no one greater. I’m not doing myself any favors by thinking the things I’m writing about are drivel because they primarily interest women. It’s more helpful for me to address not only the obvious forms of “-isms,” but also the subtler, concealed ones as well. Only then can we create a world we wish to see.
I dream of a world where we examine the ways we’re contributing to “-isms” internally. A world where we question why we think certain things are true. A world where we recognize and work toward the notion no one is better or worse than any one else.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.