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.
On Friday, I came home and found my plants had been cut. My jasmine, lovingly tended to for the past three years, was reduced to a wisp. My long, woody-stemmed wildflower vanished. Shock, grief, betrayal – I felt all those things. I realize some people might be scratching their heads saying, “They’re just plants. They’ll grow back.” But like I wrote about last week, I operate under the belief all living beings have souls. My plants are like my pets – I talk to them, they have names. I care whether they live or die. I’m very attached to my plants.
The experience also has me contemplating what many black and brown people are undergoing right now. They come home from work or school and find their loved ones just gone, vanished. If I felt this way about my plants, how much worse must it be with a family member? How can we do this to one another? The answer? We have an identity problem, in my opinion.
When children are ripped from their parents, some people will say, “Well, they’re not my children,” and leave it at that. Or they’ll spout rationalizations for why inhumane treatment is justified: “They broke the law,” or something similar. It’s a way of cutting themselves off from others. People who don’t seem to mind children sitting in cages have a boundary to their identity.
Where does your identity stop? Photo by Amol Tyagi on Unsplash
Let’s talk about identity a bit more. When you ask someone, “Who are you?” They’ll likely state their name and then other labels like gender, age, ethnicity, etc. If you ask them to go a little deeper, they might start talking about their family or nationality. Maybe they’ll mention their political affiliation. All of that is fine – I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with identifying in that way, but can identity go further than that? If we stop our identity at a certain point, when I talk about “my” children and “your” children, it’s easier for me to put “your” children in cages.
My friend gave a talk about this last summer and he asked, “How is it we can celebrate and protect human diversity while seeking to transcend divisions so we can socially cohere into something deeper, truer, to who we are on the inside rather than how we project on the outside?” Meaning, how do we keep our labels but also go beyond them?
Because that’s the truth, isn’t it? I’m not just my name, age, and gender. If you took all of those things away, wouldn’t I still be me? In various types of meditation, the point is to get in touch with the unchanging “you.” The “you” that’s calm and ever present. The “you” that’s unaffected by superficial trappings. And the more we touch that part, the more we realize everyone has that part. That Self exists universally. I see myself in others and others in myself. It’s why I get upset about dying plants and children in cages.
Some people might say I feel that way because I’m so openhearted. That’s true, I am, but I would also argue it’s because of how I identify. I identify with plants, animals, children. My identity is one of inclusion rather than exclusion.
Everything I’m talking about is the philosophy of neohumanism. Truthfully, neohumanism is more than a philosophy, it’s a worldview that guides every step. It allows me to sink into who I really am at the core. If we all practiced that more, I doubt we’d have children in cages or environmental atrocities because we’d recognize we are more than the bodies we inhabit.
I dream of a world where we recognize who we really are. A world where we identify with more than our limiting labels, not as a way of discarding them, but rather recognizing we are also much more than our labels. A world where we tap into an unchanging, eternal Self and see that Self in others. A world where we remember I am you, you are me, and we are one.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
It’s gusty where I am right now and outside my window I can see wisps of plant matter floating through the air. It feels like a metaphor for my life right now, and not just mine, but our society in general. Strong winds keep unsettling us, thrusting us in new situations. As I check social media, I see a lot of disbelief and dismay regarding the impeachment trial of Donald Trump. (And also some jokes.) Did any of us think we’d wind up here? I sure didn’t.
As I ponder the “why” of it all, I think about a conversation I had with dear friends of mine. I told them I noticed there’s a tendency for men who mistreat nature to also mistreat women. For instance, Trump continues to rollback environmental protections and he’s on record saying he can grab women by, well, you know the quote. Unbeknownst to me until recently, my observation is the premise of ecofeminism – a movement that sees a connection between the exploitation and degradation of the natural world and the subordination and oppression of women.
A woman in nature. Seemed perfect for this post. Photo by Jackson David on Unsplash
It makes sense because both the mistreatment of women and the plundering of Earth start with objectification. I don’t think Trump views women (or minorities for that matter) as people and instead reduces them to neatly packaged labels and harmful stereotypes. For instance, “Mexicans are rapists and drug dealers.” He and others like him view people and the environment in transactional terms: “What can I get?” They think about how they can benefit the most financially or in terms of acquiring power.
When Trump was first elected, I heard many people remark that they wanted a businessman at the helm of the United States. That aspect appealed to them. What people neglected to factor in is businessmen usually care first and foremost about profit, and when profit is the bottom line, people and the environment get reduced to objects. Soul is taken out of the equation. And “soul” is not limited to humans, in my opinion. I think even trees have souls or consciousness because more and more research emerges that trees talk to each other, support each other, and behave in ways that we never imagined. The same is likely true for other animate and inanimate objects.
To tie in my spiritual practice here, an ethical principle I live by is brahmacarya. It means “to remain attached to Brahma,” or Cosmic Consciousness, or Source, or whatever term you want to use. My spiritual teacher says, “Whenever people do some work or think of doing any work extroversially, they look upon the object, with which they come in contact, as a crude finite entity. Because of their constant aspiration for material achievement their mind is so engrossed in material objects that their very consciousness becomes crude. The meaning of practicing brahmacarya is to treat the object with which one comes in contact as different expressions of Brahma and not as crude forms.”
I know some traditions define brahmacarya as abstinence. I think that’s a definition that evolved over time because if you think about it, a lack of brahmacarya means objectification, and that can lead to sexual misconduct. To avoid sexual misconduct and to simplify matters, people started equating brahmacarya with abstinence.
To go back to Donald Trump, there’s nothing I can do to encourage him to “re-soul” the people and things in his life, but perhaps I can spur the people around me to engage in brahmacarya. It’s hard to constantly think of something as an expression of an infinite loving consciousness, but it’s more than a mental exercise. It’s also our actions. When you see a moth fluttering inside your house, do you kill it without a second thought? Or do you try to trap it and put it outside? When something breaks do you try to fix it or do you immediately throw it away, thereby increasing the environmental impact? All of these actions matter because it’s our way of saying plants, animals, people, our environment, are sacred, and it’s our way of reintroducing soul into what often seems like a soul-less world. And I’m all for more soul.
I dream of a world where we treat everything as a different expression of Cosmic Consciousness. A world where we stop objectifying everything and everyone because we see there’s more beneath the surface than we previously imagined. A world where we “re-soul” our planet by recognizing everything matters and we act accordingly.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
A month or two ago I heard on a podcast I listen to that the wound is also the gift. It’s a phrase that’s stuck with me because it rang true, but I couldn’t quite grapple how. This week provided me clarity on the subject.
I’ve always been a sensitive person but growing up I didn’t know how to handle my emotions. I tried to shut them down or numb out in a variety of ways. Those two strategies run rampant in our society and it’s why we see such high rates of addiction and insensitivity. Emotions can be scary for people, especially when the messages a person receives are, “Don’t be sad, don’t be scared, don’t be angry.”
Speaking from experience, it’s impossible for me not to feel sad, scared, or angry, and trying other means to NOT feel my feelings only harmed me. These days I’m taking a new tactic which is to feel my feelings and use them as information to guide me in my life. But because I’ve been on both sides it means I can use my wound and make it a gift. It means that now I live and breathe empathy. In fact, I taught an empathy workshop at a retreat recently. I never thought I’d be a person who is helping other people process their emotions when I was so unskilled, but now, people regularly call me when they’re upset or scared or sad. My emotional wound turned me into someone with high emotional intelligence, and my gift is now I understand how to set and maintain healthy boundaries so I’m not overwhelmed by emotions anymore. Not always, not in every circumstance.
I know it’s not a wound, or a gift, but I liked this picture. Photo by Lina Trochez on Unsplash
I still try to numb out sometimes, or push my emotions away, but the frequency is less and the duration is shorter. My own experience is helping others. Do I want to be a therapist? Absolutely not because I’m too introverted for that, but I’d love to ghostwrite for therapists. And even without parlaying emotional hygiene into a career, I’m helping myself and my community through modeling and acting as a resource. I’ve come to understand the only way out of anything is through, and that means my feelings too.
My spiritual teacher talks about this as well. He says regarding the innate propensities people have, for instance shyness or cruelty, “You shouldn’t check the flow. You may check the flow to check the flood, but you are to divert that water through different canals. Here also you are to check the flow of your baser propensities and divert it unto that singular propensity, toward the Supreme Self … The mind is moving toward so many unrighteous activities. Withdraw those activities and guide it toward the singular righteous Entity.”
You can’t direct the flow of something if you avoid it altogether. And you might find the things that hurt you become assets later on when helping others. We all have wounds and sometimes those wounds become gifts that foster connection, love, and support. You never know, but it’s an interesting question to ponder.
I dream of a world where we recognize sometimes the things that wounded us also become our greatest gifts. A world where we take what we’ve learned and use it to help others. A world where we come to terms with our past hurts and use them to propel us forward.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Sometimes when I encounter an obstacle I sit down and say, “That’s it. I’m done. Thwarted.” I treat challenges like a 50-foot brick wall with no handholds – insurmountable, daunting, and immovable. However, lately the new metaphor I’m working with is a rock in a river.
Have you seen boulders in rivers? The water just moves around them, changing direction, perhaps slowing down a little, but it keeps going. That metaphor is pertinent to my life right now because as I’m starting my business, I hear a lot of “no’s” or rather I don’t hear anything at all. Instead of wallowing – OK, I’m wallowing a little – I’m moving on. I mean, I have feelings about it. Every “no” stings, but I also say, “On to the next one.” Not only am I hearing “no’s,” but I feel a bit blocked because I want to show people an example of my service, but it doesn’t exist yet online. However, in order to entice people to work with me, I want to show them a sample so I’m in a bit a catch-22. What did I do? I interviewed a friend of mine who is under chiropractic care and as soon as she approves the text, I’ll post it to my own website. Moving around obstacles baby!
Look at how the water moves around this rock. Photo by kazuend on Unsplash
My spiritual teacher says obstacles are helping forces. I don’t know if I believe that, except I notice obstacles keep my mind sharp. I’m flexing my creative muscle and becoming more resourceful, so there’s that. I’m also learning and growing in ways I never anticipated so maybe obstacles are helping forces? My spiritual teacher also says, “When one sets out to complete a great task, innumerable difficulties must be confronted. The greater the task, the mightier the obstacles. That is why the person who wants to perform noble deeds must be ready to face opposition from the very outset. Those who are not prepared for these mighty obstacles begin to falter and ultimately surrender in the face of opposition.”
I certainly understand that. It’s easier to give up, to give in, especially when the obstacles are vast. I told you at the beginning of this post sometimes challenges feel like a 50-foot brick wall. But again, what I’m learning is how to circumnavigate obstacles, and I think we as a society are learning the same thing. The government not providing enough money in the form of aid? Start a fundraiser. Too much trash on the beach? Clean it up yourself. I could write pages and pages about the delinquency of government and how individuals and nonprofit organizations stepping in demonstrates the government’s inefficiency, but that’s another post for another day. What I want to focus on today is how nothing is as insurmountable as we think.
I read stories all the time of people accomplishing seemingly impossible things. A quadriplegic painting using their mouth, for instance, or a mother lifting a car to save her child. Living beings show their resilience every day as well as their cooperation and that’s something I find inspiring in these challenging times. May we all learn to flow around our obstacles and help one another when it feels too great.
I dream of a world where we flow around our obstacles like a river around a rock. A world where we realize obstacles are temporary stumbling blocks, and when they’re not, when they challenge us for too long, we link up with others and ask for help, or push to make greater changes in society. A world where we understand sometimes we move past an obstacle quickly and sometimes slowly, but in the end we do move past it.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.