I have to admit, right now I’m not feeling all that optimistic. There’s a lot of negativity in the news and it seems almost certain we’re going to hell in a hand-basket.
My spiritual teacher says, “There are some people who are pessimistic. They say that the society around us is very bleak, that it has no expression of vitality and that it seems that everyone is in a deep slumber. Pessimists say this because they have never made any detailed study of human history, nor do they care to. Had they done so, they would certainly be optimistic, because if they had looked carefully at the symptoms of pause, they would have realized that significant preparations were being made for the subsequent phase of speed. So under no circumstances should human beings be pessimistic. That is why I am always an incorrigible optimist, because I know that optimism is life.”
The future is bright.
Reading that makes me feel a little better. Maybe what we’re going through right now is not all that special or unique. Maybe this is merely history repeating itself, another phase in the human cycle. Also, I’m reminded there are some pretty amazing things happening in the world.
Did you hear about that Dutch teenager who is cleaning up the ocean? Or how about that $16 water pump in India that will provide clean water to a family for a year? Or how in Yemen they’re fighting a water shortage by harvesting fog?
It’s easy to get sucked into doom and gloom, to think the world is a terrible place, that nothing is improving, and nothing will ever change. I know this because I feel that way from time to time, which is why I have to remind myself over and over it’s not true. I just listed three news stories about how human beings are tackling real-world problems.
I’m an optimist not because I have my head in the sand and think nothing bad will ever happen again. I’m an optimist because I see that despite problems like pollution, dirty water, and a drought, people are doing something about it and will continue to do something about it. That there are solutions to all our problems. That no matter what is thrown at us, we will overcome it.
I’m going to quote my spiritual teacher again because I think he sums this up quite nicely. He says, “[H]uman beings should always be optimistic. The cimmerian darkness cannot retard your progress, cannot cover the light of the human heart. The spirit of your heart must move on and on against obstacles. Kick away your obstacles like pebbles from your feet – you are stronger than your obstacles.”
Amen to that. We are stronger than our obstacles. For every problem there is a solution and we will solve it. We are solving it, personally as well as globally. Our progress cannot be retarded and that’s a future I want to live in.
I dream of a world where we maintain our optimism. A world where we remember we are stronger than our obstacles. A world where we act on inspiration to make the world a better place. A world where we realize the future is bright.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
“People have a need for meaning and for belonging,” Dr. Gabor Maté writes. “But this society defines the value of a human being by how much they can either produce or consume. For all our talk about human values, we don’t really value humans for who they are. We value them for what they either give or purchase.”
I’ve been thinking about Maté’s quote a lot lately. In my post last week, “We Can Do Better than This,” I mentioned one of the plights of capitalism: homelessness. The underlying sentiment is if a person is poor, or mentally ill, or physically incapacitated, or old, they have no value. They can neither produce or consume anything so they are shunted off to the side where we don’t have to think about them. However, I would like to point out it’s not only certain segments of society who are harmed by the notion of what is valuable, it’s all of us.
On Tuesday, my dear friend Amal called me up and asked if I’d like to go to the Chapel of the Chimes, which is a crematory and columbarium. Afterward, we walked through the adjacent cemetery and watched the sunset. Seeing the sun set over the bay, I felt like crying because this, this, is what life is really about – not checking off my to-do list, not producing content, not building up my following on social media.
The sunset I mentioned. Photo credit Amal.
In our materialistic society, I absolutely define my value by what I’m producing and I know businesses define my value by how much I’m able to consume. That means if I don’t produce something every single day, my perceived self-worth diminishes. Heaven forbid I take a rest day! That’s also why my health condition, maladaptive stress syndrome, is so freaking challenging: I’m tired all the time. I need more rest than the average person, but that also means I can’t do as much as the average person. And because I can’t do as much, produce as much, my self-worth goes in the toilet.
I have to remind myself over and over what my life is really about, which is to achieve a divine union, and that’s not dependent on how much money is in my bank account or how many followers I have on instagram. Furthermore, my spiritual teacher says, “The Milky Way is vast from one end to the other; an ant is a very small creature, but the role of both of them in maintaining the balance of the universe is equal. If one ant meets a premature death, it will disturb the balance of the entire cosmos. Therefore, nothing here is unimportant, not even an ant.”
That means I’m important, you’re important, we’re important even if we never win a Nobel prize or an Oscar, because our worth is not inherent on what we’re doing. I could lie in bed all day every day and be just as important as a school teacher. I have to tell you I have so much resistance to saying that, but I’d really like to believe it’s true. If the Milky Way is just as important as an ant, how could it not be?
I dream of a world where we recognize our inherent value and worth as precious human beings. A world where we realize we matter just because we are alive. A world where we remember we are blessed children of the universe, no less and no more important than anyone else. A world where we remember who we really are.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
A part of me doesn’t want to write about this because it makes me uncomfortable, but I was affected so deeply I know that I must.
On Thursday, I went into San Francisco and while there, walked through a BART station corridor covered with ads for Gap. The walls and floor showed image after image of beautiful people wearing denim with the slogan: “1969: new generation.” All throughout the corridor, homeless people were passed out or holding up cardboard signs asking for money. One man sat on the floor, on top of the Gap ad, with his back against the wall, head held down with matted hair, literally covered in his own feces. That was the encounter that broke me.
This picture encapsulates this post for me.
The juxtaposition of a man, wearing jeans no less, covered in his own crap while sitting on an ad touting a time period of turmoil and change was too much for me, the irony too great. I walked away feeling helpless and downtrodden because what am I, little old me, supposed to do about this? I am not a policymaker, I am not a housing developer, I’m a journalist, so I’m doing what I do best: writing about it.
When people talk about the American dream, about there being no limits to the heights they can reach and the money they can make, they forget there is a price. P.R. Sarkar says, “[W]hen capitalists declare, ‘We have amassed wealth by our talent and labor. If others have the capacity and diligence, let them also do the same; nobody prevents them,’ they do not care to realize that the volume of commodities on the Earth is limited, whereas the requirement is common to all. Excessive individual affluence, in most cases, deprives others of the minimum requirements of life.”
We are all in this together so that means, no, one person should not be allowed to accumulate massive amounts of wealth unchecked. To do so, the uber wealthy “reduce others to skin and bones gnawed by hunger and force them to die of starvation; to dazzle people with the glamour of their garments, they compel others to wear rags,” Sarkar writes. That’s exactly what I witnessed on Thursday and I’m not OK with it. We are one big family, literally, and it’s time we started acting like it.
I’m writing to say the world doesn’t have to be this way, we don’t have to say “yes” to this. Alternatives exist such as Prout, the Progressive Utilization Theory. It’s a paradigm of development that places economic power in the hands of people and communities, nurtures living beings, promotes equity, ends exploitation, and maintains sustainable balance with the biosphere.
If Prout doesn’t float your boat, that’s OK, but something needs to change. We can’t keep going on like we have, that much is clear. I don’t know how this new economy will come about, or what action needs to occur. All I know is in the meantime, I’m talking about it with you. I’m telling as many people as I can because I want to live in a better world and I really believe we can make it so.
I dream of a world where homelessness is eradicated. A world where there is a cap on wealth. A world where everyone’s basic needs are met. A world where we take care of each other because we recognize we are one, big, universal family. A world where we do better than this.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
On Monday, I woke up feeling gross. In physical pain, emotionally drained, tired, and just generally cranky. I wished more than anything that I wasn’t in a physical body. Being a spirit, or angel, or something without form, sounded great. No pain! Just bliss! Alas, that’s not true.
Many years ago, a good friend told me there are only two positions for the feelings switch: on or off. That means either I’m numbed out to everything – joy, sorrow, anger, pain – or I have to feel everything. I can’t pick and choose which emotions I may feel. And that means some days I want to be over as quickly as possible.
If we’re not physical, we can’t enjoy things like skateboarding.
The idea of being a free-floating spirit is so tantalizing though! Would I be in bliss all day long? Would it be a non-stop pleasure fest? No, no it would not because a body is necessary to feel anything at all. And when I’m having a terrible day where I’m in physical pain and everything sucks, of course I don’t want to feel anything. But as my friend reminds me, feeling nothing means I also shut out the good things. The exhilaration of a roller coaster. The joy of spending time with a good friend. The peace of a gorgeous sunset. Without nerve fibers, there is . . . nothing so I must be physical.
I want to be happy all the time. I want to feel good all the time. We live in a society where we’re told if we’re not happy, something is wrong and we need to fix it. Start using affirmations or keep a gratitude journal, or quit a job, dump that boyfriend, go on that vacation. Most people are selling the five keys to happiness, but what if there’s nothing wrong with feeling icky? What if that’s what it means to be human?
We are caught in a pleasure/pain cycle but that’s normal. My spiritual teacher says over and over again that a human body is necessary for meditation and to achieve the ultimate union I seek. That to me means being physical is essential. There are no shortcuts. I don’t get to dance with the divine unless I’m inhabiting a human form. That means feeling sad and angry and disheartened. It also means feeling happy and peaceful and inspired. I don’t get to have some but not others.
I dream of a world where we remember being human means feeling pleasure and pain. A world where we remember we can’t feel good all of the time. A world where we realize while the idea of being non-physical sounds appealing, to experience what we’re really after, a human body is required.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’ve been thinking about timing a lot lately. I feel a ton of internal pressure to get out in the world and do something! To become an inspirational speaker, to relaunch my business, etc. I’m surrounded by these messages all the time: “carpe diem,” “you’ll never feel fully ready to do something,” “you won’t be great when you first start, but you must start in order to be great,” etc. Everyone everywhere seems to be saying to me, “Get in the game, and get in the game now.”
On the other hand, I have resistance. Not due to fear, but a nagging sensation now is not the right time. I still have to take a nap every day. I tire out easily. I have lots of responsibilities and things on my plate at the moment. Do those sound like excuses? Maybe they are, but again, I keep thinking about timing.
Is it super cliche that I’m posting a pic of a surfer when talking about being in rhythm with the universe?
We’re coming upon the eight-year anniversary of my move to San Francisco, on Valentine’s Day in fact. I think about how I moved out here and then it took me seven months to find a job and a place to live. That may not seem like a lot right now considering the state of our economy, but not having stable income or a place to live for that long was challenging, to say the least.
I bring this up because so often I find myself jumping into something and then getting overwhelmed and backpedaling only to pick it up later. This has happened to me over and over again. I have a theory about why this is the case for me. My spiritual teacher says, “Each and every created entity – whether crude, subtle, or causal – is vibrational and rhythmic. … The collective rhythms of all the rhythms emanating every moment from the countless objects of the cosmic imagination is called ‘universal rhythm.’”
My theory is that due to my highly intuitive nature, I’m peering ahead and picking up on the vibration and rhythm of something in the future, but not the present. And the reason things don’t work out when I want them to is because the rhythms and vibrations haven’t matched up yet. Here’s a great example. One of the first jobs I applied for in San Francisco was at a medical magazine. I felt sure I was going to get the job. On a deep level, I knew I was going to work for that company, so when they turned me down, I was shocked, surprised, and confused. Here’s the funny thing though: seven months later I applied for a different job at a different magazine within the same company and got it.
What I’m saying here is that old adage “timing is everything,” is an adage for a reason. As much as I want to get out in the world and do stuff, it’s also important for me to acknowledge some things are out of my hands. That if I try too soon it’s like entering a bouncy house at the exact wrong moment: I’ll get bounced out. As much as I hate having to say this, and believe me, I do, what I’m coming to realize is patience is required of me sometimes. Sure, I can jump in, but my personal experience is I feel traumatized and it takes me a while to lick my wounds before I want to try again. Wouldn’t it be better for me to wait and pick my moment? To start bouncing in the house smoothly and seamlessly? To align my rhythm with the universe’s?
I dream of a world where we understand there is a natural rhythm and timing to everything in nature, including us. A world where we understand we have to be in sync with the vibration and rhythm of what we want before the entry is smooth. A world where we remember it’s still true: timing is everything.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
In December, a friend of mine posted this fascinating article about how everyone on Earth is actually your cousin. As if to hammer the point home, while watching People will Talk with Cary Grant, my dad announced Jeanne Crain is my cousin. What? You could have knocked me over with a feather.
Of course I think it’s cool that I’m related to a famous actress, but what I find even more interesting is the idea that I am literally related to everyone on Earth. Think about it: Even if we’ve never met before, we are related, we are family. What makes me laugh is that my spiritual teacher emphasizes this point over and over: that we are a universal family, that we are all brothers and sisters, and now I’ve stumbled across an article that gives credence to that idea.
We are all brothers and sisters.
What would the world look like if we behaved as if we were one big family? I can’t help but think we would treat other a little better. That there wouldn’t be an anti-immigration stance popping up in politics. That homelessness would be a thing of the past. That there wouldn’t be so much income inequality. But mostly, that we would show true caring for one another.
This is not a pipe dream, by the way. It may feel like that right now, but I know it’s not completely out of the realm of reality. I know this because I interact with people every day who hold the view point that we are all brothers and sisters. I see people taking a stance against racism, people who are outraged about police brutality, people who want to help unaccompanied minors fleeing their native lands in search of a better life. We are more compassionate, we are more loving. Life is not nearly as brutal as it used to be.
Instead of seeing the person down the street as “other,” I see more and more evidence we view that person as family. Let’s keep up this trend. Let’s keep opening our hearts, expanding our radius of love, and treating each other as if we were related, because it turns out, we are.
I dream of a world where we treat each other as family. A world where we extend care and appreciation to strangers because we recognize, they, too, are our brothers and sisters. A world where we keep taking action to manifest a world we wish to see.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I know “little death” traditionally refers to the sensation of orgasm as likened to death, but not always, and that’s not what I’m writing about here. The little deaths I’ve been experiencing are the transformations taking place in me. I’ve been doing my work – going to therapy, taking care of myself, facing my demons – and the person I am now is not the person I once was. I’m behaving in new ways and thinking in new ways. These are positive changes, but it doesn’t mean I’m not sad, because I am. A part of me has died.
My spiritual teacher says, “Death is nothing but change. A 5-year-old child is transformed in due course into a 15-year-old boy. In 10 years, the child becomes the boy. Thereafter, you will never be able to find the body of the 5-year-old child. So the child’s body has certainly died.” He then goes on to mention the boy growing into a man, and then hitting middle age, then old age, until he finally dies and says, “The rest of the changes we do not call death; but in fact, all the changes qualify as death.”
Death is a part of life — both the big kind and the little one.
All the changes qualify as death because the person that used to exist cannot be found anymore. And while I’m not a girl becoming a woman, I have still undergone transformations and probably will continue to do so throughout my life. I will die many times. We all will. Through my work in therapy, I’m learning it’s important to grieve for these old selves. To feel a sense of loss for the person I once was and can no longer be. The sadness exists and doesn’t go away through any rationalization on my part, nor any amount of looking on the bright side. It’s important for me to honor and say goodbye to the person I once was, just as it’s important to honor and say goodbye to other people when they die.
What I’m getting at here is we’re constantly undergoing a metamorphosis and it’s important to recognize that. We’re constantly dying and being reborn. But how often do we cry about it? How often do we let ourselves feel bereaved over no longer existing the way we did before? It’s just as much of a loss as other deaths and it’s just as important to cry about it.
I’m going to end by quoting a song from one of my favorite musicals, Forever Plaid, called “Cry:”
If your heartache seems to hang around too long,
and your blues keep getting bluer with each song,
remember sunshine can be found behind a cloudy sky.
So let your hair down, and go on and cry.
I dream of a world where we cry for all the little deaths we undergo. A world where we honor all past versions of ourselves by allowing ourselves to feel grief. A world where we remember sunshine can be found behind a cloudy sky, so we let ourselves go on and cry.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’ve been thinking a lot about tantra, which some people misunderstand to mean performing crazy sex acts. That form of tantra does exist, but the form I practice is psycho-spiritual and thus about seeking union with the divine, not the divine in the form of another person. The tantra I practice is all about liberation through expansion. My friend describes tantra as using everything as a vehicle for liberation. My spiritual teacher says tantra is an all-around fight, both internal and external. But what does that mean exactly?
For me, that means confronting everything. It means facing my fears, battling my demons, having tough conversations with people, but it also means embracing all parts of myself. That is much tougher than I thought it would be, particularly when it comes to my emotions. I don’t mean in big ways like suppressing my anger, I mean in small, subtle ways.
Tantra is an all-around fight, like this mushroom pushing through the earth.
For instance, I am single and a part of me thinks I’m going to be single for the rest of my life. Usually this is where I or someone else will jump in and say, “No, of course not!” and proceed to tell me why it’s impossible that I’ll end up alone. The thing is though, no amount of optimistic thinking, compliments, or affirmations vanishes the part of me that thinks I’ll wind up a spinster. She still exists, but instead of voicing her thoughts and feelings, I suppress her. My therapist suggested to me that I allow her to speak and I allow her to feel without judgment and without meaning. Once I did, wouldn’t you know it, I felt better and I started breathing more deeply, a sure sign of release.
Feeling all of my feelings has consequences on my physical body as well. There’s scientific evidence that shows people who developed malignant melanomas often tended to be people who didn’t express emotion in a healthy way and who suppressed or repressed their anger. The repression of anger suppresses the immune system as opposed to healthy expressions of anger. “It’s not a question of philosophy,” Dr. Gabor Maté said.
How does this all relate to my spiritual practices, meditation in particular? My friend Ramesh Bjonnes, author of Tantra: The Yoga of Love and Awakening wrote about this on facebook a year ago, and I’m partially quoting him now. He said:
“Meditation is not about trying to stop our thoughts, our feelings. In fact, it is not possible to stop the mind from having thoughts, the body from having sensations, and the mind from having feelings based on those sensations….
So in meditation we do not deny anything, we actually become more accepting of everything, and in doing so, we realize where peace and true satisfaction is truly found – not in the fluctuating reality of the body and the mind, but in the stillness of the soul. And that stillness is so big that it contains everything, the only change is that our focus has changed, our identification has changed. It is from this state, we can more soulfully deal with pain, heartbreak, stress, and all the other stuff of life. This is the gift of meditation, to be able to dip into the ocean of the soul and thus return spiritually refreshed.”
What this means for me is I’m not denying anything, I’m not suppressing anything, I’m not running away from anything. I’m embracing all of it: the easy and the difficult because I know it’s what’s best for me in body, mind, and spirit.
I dream of a world where we feel all of our feelings and allow ourselves to voice even our most secret fears. A world where we confront everything, where we express everything. A world where we use everything as a vehicle for liberation and practice the real spirit of tantra.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m pretty sure everyone knows this, but I see hearts or the word “love” every day. Most of the images I post on my Instagram feed, but not all of them. As we start this year, it has me thinking about what that means, that I see love everywhere.
Here’s something else that’s interesting: I only see hearts and love when I’m not looking. You know how people say you find love when you stop looking? For me, that’s literal. What this means to me is love is everywhere. Love is all around us all the time. Love can be found in a planter, in a rock, a piece of bark. Love is not restricted or isolated. Seeing hearts every day reminds me of that. Even in the midst of the worst pain, love is there. Even in the midst of ecstatic bliss, love is there.
I took both of these pictures. I found the blue fuzz on my sock just like this — no arranging from me.
I’m pretty sure I’ve written about this before, but one of the things I love about my spiritual practice is its all-encompassing nature. God is everywhere and everything. There is no separation. God is both love and fear, light and dark. It’s not possible for some things to be God and others not to be because everything, everything is made of God-stuff. God to me is love, so that means love is everywhere and everything. Sometimes it’s hiding though. Sometimes we don’t notice it, but that doesn’t mean love is absent.
As we go into this New Year, it’s my wish that more and more people wake up to the fact love is everywhere. It’s my wish that more and more people see love or hearts every day as a reminder that love is omnipresent, because it is. Seriously, if I see love or hearts all the time, how could it not be? I’m seeing love in a concrete form, but love is even more present in the abstract. It’s the way a mother smiles at her baby. It’s the way a stranger holds open a door. It’s the way a friend shares her vulnerability. It’s the way Komal Ahmad created an app, Feeding Forward, to feed the homeless by allowing companies and event planners to donate their surplus food to those in need within their area.
This New Year I’m asking you to see love. And I promise, the more you see love, the more love there is to see. Because really, love is everywhere.
I dream of a world where we recognize love is everywhere. A world where we constantly see love’s presence. A world where we understand just because we may not see love at the moment doesn’t mean love ceases to exist. A world where we know love is omnipresent.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
On Christmas Eve, I sat around the table with my parents and learned more about where I come from. Not just about their childhoods, but my grandparents’ too. I heard about great-uncles I didn’t know I had, twins I didn’t know existed. The more I heard, the more my eyes started to bug out and a wave of immense gratitude washed over me.
One of the most important things I learned that night is addiction runs deep in my family. Generation after generation, relative after relative. Stories of an alcoholic relation dying after falling down the stairs drunk; a morbidly obese great-grandparent. I couldn’t believe it when I heard about the common thread running through my family’s past. Holy guacamole. It’s a big deal that I’m in recovery for addiction. I’m turning the tide of addiction and dysfunction despite the weight of history pulling me in a different direction. I am a walking miracle.
I’m going to pretend these are sea anemones.
My friend and neighbor told me a few weeks ago there is often one person in the family who helps heal everyone else. I knew that was me, but didn’t understand how to fulfill that role. After hearing about my family’s history, I understand I’m leading the family in a new direction just by being me. By having the willingness to do something new, to sail uncharted waters. Here I was thinking I got into recovery programs and therapy just so I could live happier and more sanely, and that’s true, but recovery is also so much bigger than me. As soon as one person stops the cycle of addiction and dysfunction by working on themselves in a concerted way, addiction and dysfunction stops. I’m doing something for my family that others could not and that makes me a miracle.
I know this post is about me personally, and my family, but I want to emphasize I am not the only miracle. Everyone is a miracle.
My spiritual teacher says repeatedly that human life is rare and precious. I’ve never understood that. How can human life be rare and precious when there are 7 billion of us? How rare and precious can it be? When I discussed this with my dear friend, he reminded me when we take into account all the other lives — the plants, the animals, the bacteria even — human life really is rare and precious. I think of human life as being expendable much of the time, but when I contemplate there are probably 7 billion bacteria on my pinky finger alone, whoa, being a human really is a miracle.
I think of miracles as walking on water, turning water into wine, or somehow accomplishing the impossible, but really, miracles are so much smaller than that. It’s a miracle that I’m in recovery. It’s a miracle that we’re alive today. It’s a miracle that the impossible can became probable.
I dream of a world where we recognize we are miracles. A world where we practice gratitude for the changes we’re undergoing. A world where we understand miracles aren’t necessarily huge feats, they are also small triumphs.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.