I have a tendency to idealize people, especially leaders. Not government officials because their peccadilloes are well documented, but other leaders like Gandhi and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. However, everyone has their flaws. Gandhi was a racist and had some weird, perhaps even abusive, sexual behaviors. Dr. King cheated on his wife. Did both of these men contribute to society and deserve recognition for that? Absolutely. But were they perfect? No.
That’s quite common actually for revolutionaries. I’m going to quote Rutger Bregman from a super-long article in The Correspondent. He read a book by British journalist Helen Lewis called Difficult Women that chronicles the history of feminism in Great Britain. In the book she makes the point many revolutionaries are difficult. Progress tends to start with people who are obstinate, obnoxious, and deliberately rock the boat. Also, doing good work in the world doesn’t mean a person is perfect.
Bregman writes: “Lewis’s criticism is that many activists appear to ignore this complexity, and that makes them markedly less effective. Look at Twitter, which is rife with people who seem more interested in judging other tweeters. Yesterday’s hero is toppled tomorrow at the first awkward remark or stain of controversy.”
I know it’s a little silly to use a Batman figurine to illustrate this post, but Batman is a human and he’s a hero so. . . Photo by Ali Kokab on Unsplash
I’m reminded you don’t have to be perfect to make great change in the world and in fact, I take heart in that regular people with passion do that all the time. As we’ve recently celebrated Pride, I’d like to mention one such person: Marsha P. Johnson, a Black trans woman, who played a key role in the fight for LGBTQ equality. Three passionate Black women making a difference today are the co-founders of Black Lives Matter: Patrisse Khan-Cullors, Alicia Garza, and Opal Tometi.
You obviously don’t have to be a saint to be a leader, to be a spiritual revolutionary. My teacher says true leaders or spiritual revolutionaries work to achieve progressive changes for human elevation on a well-thought, pre-planned basis, whether in the physical, metaphysical, or spiritual sphere and they follow an ethical code. That ethical code includes things like not intentionally harming others, practicing benevolent truthfulness, not stealing, sacrificing to serve others, etc.
Today I am reminded that you and I can also be leaders in our own right, in our own way. If we are working to elevate humanity and doing our best to be ethical people, we fall into that category. We may never have the notoriety of any of the leaders I mention in this post, but we’re still leaders and the work we’re doing still matters. We need different people playing different roles to create change.
I’m going to end with another quote by Bregman here. He says:
“Our inclination – in talk shows and around dinner tables – is to choose our favorite kind of activism: We give Greta Thunberg a big thumbs up but fume at the road blockades staged by Extinction Rebellion. Or we admire the protesters of Occupy Wall Street but scorn the lobbyists who set out for Davos.
“That’s not how change works. All of these people have roles to play. Both the professor and the anarchist. The networker and the agitator. The provocateur and the peacemaker. The people who write in academic jargon and those who translate it for a wider audience. The people who lobby behind the scenes and those who are dragged away by the riot police.”
I dream of a world where we all work together to make a better society. A world where we recognize we all have the capacity to be leaders. A world where we remember we don’t have to be perfect to make a difference. A world where we see ourselves for the heroes we are.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I have only told this story to a handful of people but now seems like the right time to share it more broadly. A few weeks ago I wrote a post about being the kind of people we want others to be. I mentioned the peace prayer, which is often mistakenly called the St. Francis prayer. I linked to a couple of stories of ex-KKK members who changed their ways based on relationships with people they used to hate.
After I wrote the post, I started to question the value of what I do, of how I help others. Does it really make a difference that I write a blogpost every week? Am I changing anyone’s life in a deep and profound way by leading a group meditation on Sundays? Would I make more of an impact by befriending someone who is in the KKK and supporting their exit from the Klan?
Literally within a few hours of thinking those thoughts I was zoombombed by neo-Nazis at the group meditation I lead. They started scribbling swastikas over my screen. They asked how many Jews we’ve killed and did whatever they could to disrupt the meeting before my co-moderator and I ejected them. (Since then we’ve tightened security measures at the meeting to keep incidents like that from happening again.)
This picture will make more sense as you keep reading. Photo by Kael Bloom on Unsplash
After I calmed down, I started to laugh. It was as if the universe said to me, “Really? Are you sure you want to befriend neo-Nazis? Are you sure the form of service you provide isn’t worthwhile?” The universe answered my question very quickly and validated for me, yes, this is what my gifts are, and yes, they are needed.
I bring this up because I’ve had conversations with several people – both white and black – who have lots of feelings about not being on the streets protesting the treatment of black and brown people. There’s a feeling they “should” be and maybe some guilt that they aren’t. I get it because I feel that way too. I want to support black, brown, and indigenous people. I want them to know I’m not OK with how they are treated and protesting is one way to demonstrate that. However, my nervous system cannot handle large crowds. I start to panic when I’m in large groups which is why I never attend concerts or sports games at large stadiums. Even going to a shopping mall wipes me out.
Yesterday I went to a small protest near my house but there is no way I can be in a throng of people. When I think about my zoombombing experience, I realize that’s OK. Everyone has different gifts and different abilities. We are all special in our own way and however we’re choosing to show up in the world is valid. A symphony orchestra requires numerous instruments to create beautiful music. Humanity is like that symphony – we can’t all be the cello.
In fact, my spiritual teacher says, “[D]iversity is the order of providence. One must remember that identicality is disowned by nature – nature will not support identicality … diversity is the law of nature and identicality can never be. But diversity is not the same as disparity. Disparity encourages exploitation based on differences, while diversity recognizes multiplicity which reflects underlying unity.”
I dream of a world where we recognize we’re not meant to all do the same thing. A world where we realize we are like the instruments of a symphony orchestra – each part is important, beautiful, and adds to the whole. A world where we cherish how we personally contribute to society. A world where we recognize we are made to be different.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
It’s a three-day weekend here in the U.S. and it has me contemplating another three-day weekend from 2013. It was Labor Day and I had just moved into a new place, a cottage. I was excited at the prospect of not sharing any walls or ceilings with a neighbor and looked forward to much-needed peace and quiet. However, on that Saturday, the property manager of the complex played loud music well into the night – 1 a.m. ticked by, and then 2 a.m.
I called her, no answer. I texted her, no answer. I left my bed and knocked on her front door. No answer. Finally, I walked around to her bedroom window and knocked, asking her to turn off her music. She complied. Peace at least.
However, the next morning, I woke up to 27 text messages from her that were mildly threatening: “How dare you knock on my window? How would you like it if I knocked on your window? I’m going to tell the landlord!” etc. I apologized for startling her but explained it escalated to that point because I wasn’t able to reach her in a less intrusive way. I thought that would be the end of it. Wrong. The next day I overheard her talking to my next-door neighbor about me. But what stuck out the most is she said, “It’s the weekend! I’m allowed to be as loud as I want on the weekend!”
No. Just no. You are NOT allowed to be as loud as you want because you don’t have work the next day. There are still rules and noise ordinances. What makes the situation even more infuriating is as a property manager she was supposed to be enforcing the rules, not breaking them.
There are all kinds of “American.” Photo by Frank Mckenna on Unsplash
This woman comes to mind frequently because her sense of entitlement and self-centeredness runs rampant in the U.S. I’m seeing that a lot especially during this pandemic. Some people think and behave as if their individual needs are more important than collective needs.
My spiritual teacher says, “But if we analyze with a cool brain, it becomes quite clear that just as my life is important to me, others’ lives are equally important to them; and if we do not give proper value to the lives of all creatures, then the development of the entire humanity becomes impossible.”
Furthermore, if we look at it a little more closely, we see collective welfare lies in individuals and individual welfare lies in collectivity. I tried to think of an example where my individual welfare doesn’t contribute to collective welfare, and none came to mind. In the case of my former property manager, her perceived individual welfare negatively impacted the collective because it meant not only I, but the other tenants, may also have been groggy and sleep-deprived, which in turn affected our mental functioning, which in turn affected our interactions with ourselves and others, and so on.
If I flip that around, getting enough sleep positively impacts the collective for the same reasons. In fact, my spiritual teacher is quite adamant that individual liberty should not go against the interests of the collective body. He says it is important for all of us to develop a rationalistic mentality, or “awakened conscience.” What that means is studying the pros and cons of each decision, but also factoring in whether the decision contributes to the welfare of all.
At this point people might be thinking I’m “un-American,” to which I say yes, I am, if “un-American” means I care about how everyone is doing, not just my small circle. Yes, I’m un-American if that means I value not just my life but life in general. Yes, I’m un-American if that means I think we should all learn how to live in harmony with one another in a more fair and equitable way. Yes, I’m un-American if that means I have my sights set on a better world for us all.
I dream of a world where we recognize collective welfare matters. A world where we realize individual welfare lives in the collective and collective welfare lies in the individual. A world where we all take care of each other. A world where one person is not allowed to negatively impact those around them. A world where we let ourselves be “un-American.”
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Maybe a month ago, I noticed one of my succulents had a wilted leaf. I tugged it off and instead of merely removing the leaf, I managed to tear the stem of the plant nearly in two. As you can see in the picture below, this succulent started leaning like the Tower of Pisa. I propped a piece of cloth under the repurposed jar housing the succulent to force the stem halves to touch. I hoped the contact would encourage the stem to grow back together.
Look at how this is leaning! And those roots!
I’ve been watching this succulent like a concerned mother hen, tracking any and all changes. Recently I noticed a root growing out of the ripped stem, dangling in thin air, which you can also spot in the picture. If that wasn’t enough, the place where I pulled off the wilted leaf is now growing a whole new succulent rosette. I’ve posted a picture of that below.
The new rosette is hiding a bit but you can still see it.
I’ve written about adversity and overcoming obstacles many times, but witnessing this succulent demonstrates to me not only are living beings capable of overcoming obstacles, sometimes they can thrive because of them.
Usually when I think about resilience, I picture band aids and casts. That is, covering and supporting the wound and moving ahead, even if it’s a little more difficult. Or I imagine a dented car – it still runs, but doesn’t look as pretty. But this succulent is encouraging me to reframe resilience. Maybe resilience can mean not only surviving, but thriving. The little baby rosette would never have appeared if I hadn’t made space for it by removing a leaf.
One more picture because it’s pretty. Photo by Alex Holyoake on Unsplash
It has me wonder, what is COVID-19 making space for both individually and collectively? What is happening right now that otherwise would not? Friends of mine are writing more, starting standup comedy routines, growing gardens, connecting with their neighbors. They’re moving their businesses online and making more money than they did before the pandemic. Some of these occurrences are rare, I acknowledge that. Not everyone is making more money now than they did prior to the pandemic. But even people who are struggling, are they connecting to people they otherwise would not have?
As a society, what changes will occur as a result of this pandemic? Starting this month in Paris, some of the city’s busiest streets will be reserved for cyclists to limit crowds on public transport. Some streets will be pedestrian-only. And it’s not just Paris – some Paris suburbs are announcing plans for bike lanes as well. The mayor of Paris wants the changes to become permanent, which could do a lot in terms of air pollution for the city. I would argue that’s an example of thriving as a result of COVID-19 and not merely surviving. What else could change for the better?
I dream of a world where we recognize we can not only survive hardship, but thrive as a result of it. A world where we recognize sometimes difficulties make space for something to bloom that otherwise would not have. A world where we use this crisis as an opportunity to change for the better. A world where we follow the Tao of the succulent.
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.
You know the expression “the world is your oyster”? If you think about it, the phrase doesn’t really match the connotation we have with it. We say “the world is your oyster” when we want to indicate the world is wide open, that you have numerous opportunities available to you, that sort of thing. But have you seen an oyster? They’re closed tightly, they’re dark inside. They are not warm and inviting.
Are we really saying the world is a tightly closed, dark place? Or are we saying that we’re the precious jewelry formed in oysters, a pearl? If so, that’s not particularly flattering either. Natural pearls are formed when a parasite works its way into an oyster and as a defense mechanism, the oyster coats the irritant with layer after layer until voila! A pearl.
So pretty, yet so strange. Photo by Maximilian Hofer on Unsplash
I find the more literal meaning of “the world is your oyster” more inspiring because what I hear is the world can be scary, uncomfortable, uncertain, and through the experience of living, you will emerge a pearl. I think it’s a message we could all use more of right now during this pandemic. I recognize none of us will emerge from COVID-19 unscathed, and some of us will be more affected than others. And, this experience has we wondering how we turn out on the other side. Will we be pearls? Turned into something or someone we otherwise would not have been?
I also think about wildflowers in California after fires ravaged the land. Some species only grow because they were exposed to such high heat, which is called scarification. Spiritual teacher Tosha Silver talks about this too. She says, “True surrender to love isn’t just about being ‘guided.’ It’s a freakin holy alchemy that you can neither control nor predict. You are ravished. You are changed. But as you relax into the sometimes unbearable process, the sparkling diamond of your true nature begins to emerge.” I would change the word “diamond” to “pearl” but I think you get the point.
My spiritual practice is about finding God in everything – the mundane and the extraordinary, the suffering and the ease. There is nowhere I can go to escape the divine and that means God is here too in this process, in this pandemic. It also means its possible this pandemic is leading to a change not only in society, but also in ourselves. How will we be different on the other side of this? Will we be bright and shiny pearls stronger as a result of living in the dark, confined space that is the world right now? Maybe. It’s something I, personally, am hoping for.
I dream of a world where we remember if the world is our oyster, that means we are the pearl. A world where we understand beauty and transformation arise from hardship and that’s always been so. A world where we strive to be changed for the better as a result of our challenges and ultimately become the shining pearls we are meant to be.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The other day I went for a walk in the woods by my house. While on the trail, an animal turned around and stared at me for several seconds. It reminded me of a dog, but I didn’t spot an owner and also the face was too triangular. Was this some sort of cat? I kept walking and again the animal turned around. We had another moment. After seeing its tail, I realized, “That’s a fox!” I’d never seen a fox before despite living in a variety of environments. Also, the foxes from children’s books are usually deep red while this creature was more brown.
When I came home, I looked up the meaning of foxes in the book Animal-Speak by Ted Andrews. The whole entry didn’t resonate with me, but one part did. Foxes reflect “a new world opening up, that the process of creation is beginning. It reflects that the world is growing and shapeshifting itself into new patterns that will be beneficial.”
The world is getting smaller and smaller. Photo by The New York Public Library on Unsplash
I know COVID-19 is affecting people negatively, me too, so I don’t want to downplay that, but I’m also wondering if we’re shapeshifting into new patterns that will be beneficial for us. I think about how the National Health Service, the U.K.’s medical care system, sprang from the crisis during World War II. The government started Emergency Hospital Service to care for the wounded during the war because the issue of health provisions was a growing problem. We’re starting to see that in California right now too. The state bought two vacant hospitals to help with the influx of patients due to COVID-19. Are we seeing the beginnings of nationalized healthcare? Maybe.
I also think about how FDR enacted the New Deal during the Great Depression. He promised he would act swiftly to face the “dark realities of the moment” and assured Americans he would “wage a war against the emergency.” I realize Trump is no FDR, but perhaps this is where state’s rights will come into play more and each state will enact policies to benefit its residents.
On a micro level, people seem to be kinder right now. Neighbors are helping neighbors, people are checking up on the elderly, procuring food for those in need, and donating when and where they can. I’ve heard many a comparison to the days following 9/11, but I didn’t live in New York then and didn’t experience the outpouring of kindness and consideration that so many people mention. In my part of the world, things pretty much continued as usual. In this time, we are all affected regardless of our geography. The entire globe is experiencing the same thing to a greater or lesser degree.
My spiritual teacher says during periods of psychic and physical clash like we’re all experiencing “the existential feelings of human beings do not remain confined to their physical bodies alone, but spread to those around them. Initially they think about the welfare of the members of their own families, but with the gradual evolution of their minds, they see themselves as members of a global society and become actively engaged in promoting the well-being of all.”
I think that’s what’s happening here, at least for now. We’re seeing ourselves as part of a global society and promoting the well-being of all. Things are hard and scary right now, absolutely. But maybe as a result of this pandemic we’ll all start caring about each other more and we’ll enact programs that benefit the many instead of the few. That’s my wish anyway.
I dream of a world where we recognize we’re all in this together. A world where we understand we’re a global society and it’s important to promote the well-being of everyone. A world where we take better care of each other because we recognize what affects one person affects us all.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
If I had to characterize the mood of last week, I would say “panicked.” In my circles at least, people are freaking out about the upcoming presidential election. It has a life or death tenor to it. On top of that, the coronavirus is sweeping the world and people are freaking out because there’s a literal life or death element. Conferences are being canceled, travel plans have been thwarted. Cities are discouraging nonessential public events. I get it, and as an empath I also feel it. My adrenal glands haven’t felt this taxed in months. What to do about it?
For me, the answer is slow down. When I slow down, I’m no longer in panic or hysteria because the two cannot coexist. Even right now I’m breathing deeply into my belly. I’m noticing the pause between the inhalation and exhalation. And I’m also saying to myself, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not ever going anywhere.” Do I still feel the niggling of fear at the outer edges? Yes I do. But not as intensely as before, and that’s progress.
This picture makes more sense after reading the next paragraph because I’m talking about waving the white flag. Photo by Bernard Hermant on Unsplash
I also think about surrender here. To surrender means to stop fighting. For me, that means to stop fighting reality, to accept what is right here and right now with the understanding life can change in an instant. When I slow down and accept reality, I notice what arises is grief. I’m sad y’all. I’m sad about the state of the world. I’m sad that minorities are being treated poorly en masse. I’m sad people are ravaging the environment. I’m sad I’m struggling financially. Panic I think is a way to push aside feelings and instead dwell in the “action” state. If I’m running around like a chicken with its head cut off, then I don’t have to sit with my own fear, anger, or sadness. And if you’re paying attention, there’s much be fearful, angry, or sad about.
I think we’re all looking for a parent. We all want someone to come in and take care of us, to make everything better without effort on our part. Maybe I’m projecting, but it certainly seems that way. There’s an expectation our political leaders will act as good parents, and then when they show themselves to be fallible human beings, we’re disappointed. So the question becomes, who can be the parent we’re looking for? Some people get in touch with their own inner loving parent. Some people turn to God or higher power for soothing. As for me, I’m relying on both. I’m parenting myself and I’m also working on surrendering to something greater than me.
I’ve written about surrender a lot over the years. I wish I could surrender once and be done with it, but that’s not how my life goes. Instead, I’m learning to surrender over and over again. Right now, I’m saying, “OK God. OK.” Those seven letters pack a punch. They’re a simple way for me to express that I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what’s best for me. I’m offering it to God. I wish I could be a woman of faith who completely trusts in the universe. I’m crazy envious of people like that, but the reality is I’m not that person. Sometimes I trust in my higher power and sometimes I don’t. And sometimes I’m brought to my knees like with the current situation we’re all facing. I’m doing my part – voting, washing my hands, etc. – but the reality is I’m not in control. All that’s left for me to do is let go. “OK God. OK.”
I dream of a world where we slow down. A world where we feel our feelings and understand the wisdom in taking inspired action. A world where we recognize we’re not in control of everything and we’re able to let go. A world where we’re able to surrender because sometimes that’s the only action we can take.
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.
Within the past couple of weeks I started reading a life-changing book. I don’t use the phrase “life-changing” lightly. Very few books embed themselves so deeply into my psyche that I find myself irrevocably altered as a result. I’m not even finished with the book yet but already I’m behaving differently.
The book is Tosha Silver’s It’s Not Your Money. I mean, even the title tells you this is something different, right? Instead of the mindset “It’s mine! What can I do to get more?” Tosha instead asks the reader to offer up money (and everything really) to the divine beloved. To recognize nothing on this planet is truly “ours” in a permanent way. We are merely caretakers for the time being. For instance, eventually the computer I’m typing this on will get donated or recycled.
Gorgeous, right? Photo by Brooke Lark on Unsplash
What Tosha invokes in her book is the reminder we aren’t operating in the world alone. I’m not the one solely responsible for making money or finding a romantic partner or whatever. I listened to a podcast she appeared on and she said people often say, “You’ll never find a parking spot in that area,” or “You’ll never find an affordable place to live in that neighborhood,” etc. She recognizes the person is right – if they don’t invoke the divine beloved. So in her mind she tacks on “without God.” So for instance, “You’ll never find a parking spot in that area, without God.” It’s not so much a trick to manifesting everything we desire, so much as recognizing with God/source/the universe anything and everything is possible. If something is in our best interest, if it’s in our highest good, the Supreme will make it so.
I know that to be true in my own life. Many years ago a friend counseled me about finding a place to live and he said there are three factors to housing: cost, size, and location. And then he said, “Now pick two,” meaning, nobody gets all three. In the extremely expensive rental market of the Bay Area, I did get all three: an apartment in my price range, the size I wanted, and in a good location, which was truly an act of grace. I’ve seen miracles in my life, and now I’m consciously inviting love to take charge of all aspects, including finances.
This week after reading a line from Tosha’s book I immediately burst into tears and then wrote it on a piece of masking tape by my doorknob so I see it every time I enter or exit my apartment. She talked about letting go of old stories and no matter what happened in the past, we can do things differently and live a new reality. She said, “This life now belongs to love and anything can happen.” Wow y’all. That line. I hope you can feel the power of it, the recognition that love is here and when we open up to the divine, anything can happen. Bills miraculously get paid. Our soulmate knocks on our door. Opportunities abound.
What Tosha is talking about here is surrendering to something greater than ourselves. It’s about letting love into our lives to lead. It’s about letting go of control and recognizing there is a divine presence here, in this moment, in every moment. That a loving force moves through me and through you. And furthermore, we can consciously invite that loving force into our lives. I’ve been on the spiritual path for a long time and I still need the reminder that surrender doesn’t end the minute I leave my meditation cushion. Real surrender means saying, “Hey God/higher power/universe, I want you to take care of this. Please guide my actions. I trust where you are leading me,” and then we let go, knowing whatever needs to come, comes, and whatever needs to go, goes. Because truly, this life belongs to love.
I dream of a world where we recognize the power and the presence of a loving force in our lives. A world where we’re able to surrender and let go of our micromanaging tendencies and fully trust all true needs will be met, and often in amazing and wonderful ways. A world where we realize we never walk alone because this life belongs to love.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.