The other day I watched a facebook video from evolutionary astrologer David Yarrow Wood. He spoke about the current transit we’re all experiencing – Saturn conjunct Pluto. He said Pluto brings up fears so we can see through them, so we can no longer be motivated by them. That line. As soon as he said it, I paused the video to cry a little.
It’s similar to what I wrote more than a month ago about life now belonging to love and anything being possible. This process of learning a new way of being started for me before the pandemic, but COVID-19 is upping the ante. I am learning to no longer be motivated by my fears. It’s hard though because I have a lot of fears and so does the worldwide society. One only has to go to the grocery store to see that. Fear is motivating people to buy toilet paper like they’re preparing for a three-month blizzard. Fear is motivating people to buy guns in higher numbers than they did months prior.
I’m afraid and you’re afraid – with good reason. The world is scary right now. I get it. And I also understand the world is scarier for some people than it is for others. That’s real. And, I ask myself what would it be like to be motivated by something other than fear? What if I wasn’t motivated by scarcity and shame? What if I approached life from a place of ease and trust and care? That may sound naïve right now when we’re in a state of emergency, but I can’t help but think life would be better for all of us if we did.
I’m learning something new. Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash
Like I said, people are hoarding supplies, which causes less supply, which causes more hoarding. If instead we all bought two weeks’ worth of what we need, would we be seeing so many empty shelves? If we operated from a place of ease and grace, would our experience be different? I think so.
And it is different in different places. In other countries people continue to have healthcare. Or the government is paying everyone’s salary. Or the virus has been contained more effectively. In countries that think of the collective, that have systems to fall back on, the predominant feeling is “We’ll weather this storm,” rather than the sense we’ve been thrust into a war for which we’re ill-prepared. There’s more sense of trust and that’s something I want on a personal level too.
Because life continues, my neighbor is moving out May 1st (p.s., do you want to be my neighbor?). I’m worried about who will move in next. Fear turns me into a tornado, whirling around, spinning and spinning in my head. But that’s not particularly helpful because the reality is the right neighbor has already been selected on the cosmic level. The person who’s supposed to be there will be there. If I instead trusted the universe, I would surrender and offer it up to the divine. I would do my part emailing friends and posting the news to facebook, but then I would let go, knowing I’ll be alright. Knowing that I can handle what comes next. And that’s a wish I have for all of us.
I dream of a world where we take inspired action and then surrender the outcome. A world where we operate with a bit more trust and faith in the universe. A world where we understand we’re a part of a cosmic dance and we’re not meant to lead – we’re meant to follow. A world where we welcome a new way.
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.
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.
As you know, we’re rounding the bend on 2019. Where did the year go? I know there’s that 10-year challenge floating around social media but I can’t contemplate that we’re about to enter a new decade because I’m pretty sure my mind will explode. No, I’m only thinking about this year and I’ve cried a couple of times this week because 2019 is not at all what I expected; nor did I accomplish what I thought I would.
I remember starting off this year feeling buoyant and enthused as I flew back from LA to the Bay Area, the sun peeking through the clouds. I took it as a good omen, that the universe shared in my optimism. This year I looked forward to financial abundance, to possibly dating again, and also finishing my novel. None of those things happened. Instead this year was like landing in a new city only to be greeted by wildfire smoke – something unanticipated and I didn’t even know I should check for. (That actually happened to me by the way.)
Not quite what I was looking for, but it works! Photo by Steve Halama on Unsplash
This year my accomplishments cannot be enumerated. They are more of the internal variety: setting boundaries with toxic people, demanding what I’m owed, determining what I’m worth, etc. They cannot be shared at a holiday party – except for the fact I started my own business. That I’m telling to everyone who will listen. So yeah. I’m disappointed about this year. I’m literally crying about the gap between my dreams and my reality.
This is the point where I’m probably supposed to talk about how dreams can be deferred, about how things can change on a dime, about how there’s still time as long as I’m alive. All of that is true, and I don’t want to gloss over the grief. There’s nothing to fix here. There’s nothing to change. This year was what it was. I showed up like a champ for the challenges life presented me and that’s also something to celebrate. Was it a good year? No, but it also wasn’t a bad one. It was a year. An exciting, boring, happy, sad, easy, hard, wonderful, terrible year.
What comes to mind right now is a concept underpinning my last couple of posts: surrender. My spiritual teacher says suppose Cosmic Consciousness wants you to become even greater than what you are praying to become. What if Cosmic Consciousness finds greater potential in you than you’re aware of? The best thing to do is surrender completely, to be a conduit instead.
This year has felt like that to me – and also that I’m getting polished. All the things I learned this year, all the things I endured, have been necessary to create an even better version of me. I would have been content with not learning hard lessons, with not undergoing hardship, but then I wouldn’t be where I am now – able to protect myself, to take care of myself, and not let anyone thwart me, including me. So maybe I’ve accomplished what I wanted this year after all.
I dream of a world where we mine for gold in the darkness of our lives. A world where we recognize a year can be both good and bad, even if didn’t go according to plan. A world where we let go of internal “shoulds” and instead embrace what’s here, recognizing maybe we accomplished more than we thought at first glance.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
“Life should not be motivated by fear.” I’ve heard that sentence hundreds of times but usually it goes in one ear and out the other. The message doesn’t land because my mind can’t compute the meaning. In some ways my life has absolutely been motivated by fear.
I’m applying to any and every job — some that I want and some that I don’t — because I’m scared. I’m casting as wide a range as possible because a part of me feels desperate. I’m like that person on Tinder who swipes right for every profile because I want someone, anyone, to say, “Yes, I’ll go out with you.” I get it. We say with jobs and with dating that it’s a numbers game so on some level it makes sense to apply for everything, to say yes to everyone. But on another level it does not.
Reach for the clouds! Or something. . . Photo by Samuel Zeller on Unsplash
I’m saying yes to everything because I’m scared that I won’t be hired anywhere. I’m not accounting for my own needs and wants. Instead I’m saying I’ll settle for anything. Sometimes that’s necessary. In my situation it’s not. I’m already living off of unemployment and food stamps. This is as low as it gets for me because I won’t be homeless — I have too many friends and family to allow that to happen. So this? This is the worst it will get for me given the circumstances.
What would my life look like if I wasn’t motivated by fear? What if my job search wasn’t motivated by fear but instead joy, service, or faith? What would be different? For starters, my mindset would change. I wouldn’t say “if I get hired” but instead “when I get hired.” I’d believe the right job is coming along at some point. I’d apply places that make use of my skills and talents instead of any job, every job.
Writing this my chest is tight and my breathing is shallow because a part of me is very attached to the fear perspective. I’m afraid to stop being afraid. But I want to and am willing to try something new.
My spiritual teacher says over and over again that the universe knows what we need and want before we do. That there’s a loving entity looking out for us, guiding us, giving us what we need. We don’t always realize it at the time; often it only becomes clear in retrospect. I’m finding that to be true for me. I won’t list all the reasons why right now but will say briefly that being unemployed has meant sleeping in every day for more than three months. As someone who didn’t sleep well for seven years, this is a tremendous gift and means I’m healing in ways I never thought possible. So perhaps my higher power knows what’s best for me after all.
I dream of a world where we are motivated by joy, love, service, and faith. A world where we hold out for what we want when we’re fortunate to be in a position to do so. A world where we realize our higher power is acting in our best interest and we surrender to that, trusting all is well.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The other day I fretted about my job situation, worried I won’t find another one, or I won’t find another one that I like, that suits me, etc. I applied some spiritual principles — mainly recognizing I’m not in control of this, but I have a higher power — and came to the conclusion my higher power is bigger than all of this.
When I think about myself and my situation it’s from a small and limited perspective. You could call it ego or fear, but regardless, it keeps me locked into limitation. It keeps me from believing in miracles and possibilities. That self is like Chicken Little, declaring the sky is falling because an acorn fell on her head. Did you know there are multiple versions of the Chicken Little story? In one version, Chicken Little and all her friends are lured to a fox’s den and never seen again. In another, they tell a king and the king reassures them the sky is not falling, plucking an acorn from Chicken Little’s head.
I’d like to frequent the metaphorical palace. Photo by Victoriano Izquierdo on Unsplash
This story appeals to me right now because I see my situation as a fork in the road with different outcomes. I could be like Chicken Little and let my fear lead me to a metaphorical fox’s den where I’ll be devoured, or I could be like Chicken Little and let my fear lead me to a metaphorical palace where I’ll be reassured. My higher power is the royalty in this situation — bigger, more powerful, and thoroughly capable.
The other day I watched a movie about Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn. It reminded me back in the day royalty could accomplish the seemingly impossible. He wanted to marry Anne Boleyn so badly he created his own freaking church so he could divorce Catherine of Aragon. That may not seem like a big deal in this modern age where we can create a church in 10 minutes by purchasing a domain name on the internet, but back then? Unthinkable. Practically impossible. And he did it anyway. My higher power is not Henry VIII, but nonetheless, has royal qualities, which means my higher power can totally handle this job situation.
My higher power is bigger than me and thus capable of miracles. I’ve already been the recipient of miracles over and over again. In fact, I’m writing this blogpost from a miracle: my apartment. By all accounts this situation shouldn’t exist: I live alone in a quiet place that I can afford with laundry onsite and in a good location close to public transportation. In the Bay Area that’s like the Holy Grail. Can it be possible then my job will be similar? Sometimes I believe that and sometimes I don’t, but the more I remember my higher power is bigger than me, the more reassured I feel.
I dream of a world where we remember the divine is greater, more powerful, and more capable than we are. A world where we realize those qualities mean miracles can manifest in a multitude of ways. A world where we’re reassured by something bigger than us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
For the past few weeks I’ve woken up every day with high anxiety – a 10 out of 10. Each day I’ve wondered if a figurative bomb would drop on me. Some days the bomb dropped and some days it did not, but no day proceeded as I expected. I won’t get into specifics publicly, but I’ve been challenged in ways I never have before.
Throughout this process I’ve reached out to others for support and I’ve also turned to my spiritual practices. In my spiritual tradition, as well as in many others, we have the concept of surrender. Surrender is a hard pill to swallow because at least in the culture I’m most familiar with, we’re taught to fight, to try, to never give up. We’re taught that we’re masters of our fate, the captains of our soul. Weeeelllllll, not so much, according to spirituality. In spirituality, we take the opposite approach, that rather there is a force bigger than us, directing the show. That we are merely players upon the stage.
Sometimes we need to crack our shells. Image by Sara Codair on Unsplash
A monk I know says we’re able to experience a divine shower of love when we surrender body, mind, and soul. When the hard shell of ego is cracked – and often it’s cracked through extremely painful experiences – that’s when we become like children and let the universe take care of us. When the shell of ego is cracked, that’s when we may feel the most connected to the divine, if we take that stance.
Everything I’m going through has certainly cracking my ego shell. It has forced me to surrender my personal will, my notions of how things will work out, and instead let go. It’s not possible for me to behave otherwise. Thinking I control what’s happening is only succeeding in making me feel crazy. My mind is spinning with all the possible scenarios and outcomes and the reality is, I have no idea. I can’t prepare for all eventualities because more often than not, things I didn’t conceive of are what manifest.
You know that joke, “How do you make God laugh? Tell him your plans”? That sums up my life right now. I never, never saw any of this coming. I never anticipated I would be in this situation, yet here I am. My ego is getting beaten to a pulp right now. And even with all the fear and anxiety, all the Sturm und Drang, I’ve had moments of pure grace, of magic and mystery. I’ve witnessed my higher power taking care of me, showing up for me, demonstrating power and presence.
Do I know how things will turn out? No. Might it be terrible? Yes. But can I still feel deeply loved and held by a power greater than myself? Absolutely. And I have that wish for others too.
I dream of a world where even amidst pain and suffering, we feel loved and supported. A world where we recognize the power and the presence of something bigger than us. A world where we understand often the universe has to crack through our hard shell of ego and self-will in order to shower us with grace.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I am thoroughly exhausted. Almost overnight, my entire schedule changed – when I go to bed, when I eat, when I go grocery shopping, when I do laundry. Everything has been upended and I’m working to recalibrate. Starting a new job is no joke. And even though I’m so tired I could double as a zombie, wisps of inspiration are floating around in my brain that I feel like blogging about.
For many years, a good friend of mine spoke to me about resilience and the ability to bounce back from hardship. Another good friend of mine mentioned the book Grit by Angela Duckworth who writes about the power of persistence. Something happened to me in the past month to solidify both adjectives in my life. I have a new sense of confidence in my ability to handle whatever life throws at me. I truly feel I can weather any storm. Even saying that I start to get choked up.
I’m feeling confident I can handle any storm. Photo by Ju On on Unsplash
How did it happen? How did I get here? The answer is I faced one of my greatest fears and I survived. I’m no stranger to facing my fears, I do so regularly, and each time my confidence grew a little more. This last fear was no different. I added another brick to the wall of self-confidence. What’s interesting is I’ve also given up on the notion I can thwart terrible things from happening. A part of me has worked tirelessly to prevent terrible things. It’s a lot of where my anxiety comes into play. If only I can control every possible outcome, if only I can plan a little bit better, I’ll feel safe. Except this year demonstrated to me how laughable that really is. This year brought flood, fire, death, and destruction both close to home and far away.
I realized more deeply all I can do is take care of myself and let go of the rest. When the wildfires came, smoke billowed over the horizon. I watched it from my window, seeping across the Bay. I did the only thing I could – I wore a mask and purchased an air filter. I accepted the situation and took care of myself; I signed up for emergency alerts in case of evacuation. And then I waited for more information.
I read a piece of literature recently that said, “We have each other and we have a higher power. We’re going to make it.” Reading it, I felt an internal zing radiate through my body declaring, “Yes!” It’s not that terrible things cease happening, it’s rather we support each other. We extend a helping hand to one another in whatever ways we can. We trust in the universe, and we let go.
Trust is a big thing for me. It doesn’t come easily and it certainly doesn’t come easily when it involves a non-tangible entity like Spirit. Asking me to trust is like asking a person to step out of an airplane without a parachute. And yet in the past month, that’s exactly what I did. Instead of falling flat on my face, the universe lifted me up and I flew.
This is likely one of the most rambling posts I’ve ever written, but to sum up, I’ve learned I can’t prevent terrible things from happening. All I can do is keep picking myself up when I fall, take care of myself, support others and vice versa, and trust in the universe. When I do that, I can weather any storm and I have that wish for everyone.
I dream of a world where we keep bouncing back when we get knocked down. A world where we practice perseverance. A world where we take care of ourselves to the best of our capacity and help others do the same. A world where we trust the universe and understand sometimes instead of falling we’ll fly.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
All week I’ve bobbed along on an ocean of grief, coming in and out of numbness. Another community member of mine died, a monk from my yoga and meditation group. He had cancer so it wasn’t altogether unexpected, but still sad. I cried when I first heard the news and then I thought I was over it. Until I noticed I checked my email, facebook, and instagram a million times trying to dodge my grief. How I wanted to escape my life and be in someone else’s. Who wants to feel grief? Grief sucks.
In texting with a friend, I realized I have resistance to grieving, not only about this monk, but other losses in my life, because if I do, that means I’ve fully let go. It’s a real and final goodbye. And in order to keep the person a presence in my life, I’ve tried to block my feelings. Like a child who says, “If I don’t say goodbye to you then you can’t leave, right?” But they have and can and do. Whether I say goodbye or not doesn’t matter. And even when I do say goodbye, even when I know a person is knocking on death’s door, it still doesn’t mean I’m ready to bid them adieu. Is anyone ever truly ready to say goodbye to someone?
“Becoming the ocean” is no easy task. Photo by Ngaere Woodford-Bender on Unsplash.
When I was much younger, I remember trying to comfort my dad after someone died. I tried to console him with the notion that we’re all still connected. That just because a person has left their physical body doesn’t mean the relationship has severed. Nor does it mean we won’t reunite, especially as he and I believe in reincarnation. I’ll never forget, he countered with, “Yeah, but we’ll never meet each other again in this life.” That’s what grief is; recognizing and honoring that loss. No amount of saying, “You’ll see each other again,” can sidestep the loss.
So I’m crying in fits and spurts. I’m also contemplating what my spiritual teacher said about the dissolution of ego. How many people are scared of merging with something bigger than themselves because they view it as annihilation. To describe the process he uses the metaphor of a salt doll and the sea. He says, “If a salt doll goes to measure the sea, it will melt into it. Neither can it measure the sea, nor will it ever return; its existence will merge into the vastness of the sea, releasing it from all cares and worries. If one wishes to take the form of the sea, one will have to become the sea itself; there is no other way.”
If I wish to continue progressing in this life, I have to become the sea itself. I have to let go. To feel the feelings that I’m blocking. And in doing so, I’ll come upon something bigger than me. The salt doll becomes the ocean. Perhaps the grief I feel is carrying me toward something else, something bigger that I’m unaware of. And instead of the loss of my friends as final, maybe I’m traveling to a place altogether new. I’m not sure. Only time will tell.
I dream of a world where we allow ourselves to grieve the dead. A world where we realize the relationship changes into something new. A world where we surrender to the process we’re undertaking and allow ourselves to be swept away, letting go of the old and embracing the new.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
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.