One of my favorite quotes is by Marianne Williamson who says, “Romantic relationships are like getting a PhD in spirituality.” Preach sister. However, for me, every relationship is like getting a PhD in spirituality. There is not one relationship that doesn’t teach me something, even if it’s a relationship with an animal. Why is that though?
I’m pretty sure it’s due to my upbringing in a tantric practice. The psycho-spiritual tantra I practice uses everything as a vehicle for liberation. It also uses symbols to approach something that is ultimately beyond symbolization. This manifests itself primarily through relationship.
People are our teachers of course.
To back up a bit and to give some context, the tantric worldview is one in which a universally abounding macrocosmic Consciousness comes to know Itself through each of Its microcosmic reflecting forms – not only in humans or animals, but in plants, planets, and stars. The Consciousness in all things may lie seemingly dormant in something like a rock, but in humans, the Consciousness becomes self-aware and allows us to actively co-create in this great “knowing,” so to speak. What that means is we as humans come to know and understand ourselves symbolically through the form of others.
Boiling that concept down, people, but not just people, are teachers. I’m sure you’ve already found this to be true. I bring this up and find this concept to be so important, that I learn about myself through what’s outside of me, because it gives everything a different spin. It means other people, places, and things are not conquests, are not objects that exist outside of me, are not around solely for my pleasure and enjoyment, but rather are me. This worldview explains why it makes sense to say, “We’re all one,” because I learn about me through you, and you learn about you through me. There is no “out there.”
In other words, the whole world is a reflection of me in different forms, like a potter using clay. There are bowls and vases, but they’re both made out of clay.
I’m not sure I can convey why this concept is so profound for me, but there’s something about recognizing you are an expression of me, that we are not separate from each other, that’s mind boggling. It means when I see a homeless person, I don’t view them as “other,” I view them as me. Can you imagine what the world would be like if we all felt that way? If we saw refugees as us? If we viewed nature as a different expression of ourselves? Would we be so cavalier to inflict harm? To cut down all the trees, to drain lakes, to build high fences, to abuse our brethren? Somehow I think not. I know this to be true because I’ve seen a new way of being and I have that dream for all of us.
I dream of a world where we view each other as ourselves. A world where we understand we come to know ourselves through a myriad of forms. A world where we treat everything around us with reverence and love. A world where we view that which is outside of us not as things for the taking, but as beings to behold.
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.
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.
Sometimes I get in a nihilistic mood and think it doesn’t really matter that I’m alive, that I exist. In the grand scheme of things, I’m a speck, a peon, a flash in the pan of life. Furthermore, I think of myself as expendable and exchangeable in the sense that if I wasn’t here, someone else would accomplish what is required of me; that the universe would work through someone else.
The other day though, I read something in Richard Tarnas‘ book Cosmos and Psyche that had me rethink my perspective. He posits two ways of grappling with the universe and uses the analogy of two suitors to explain them. In the first approach, the suitor treats the universe as if it has no intelligence and is something to be exploited for his own gain. In the second, the suitor seeks to know you (the universe):
“[N]ot that he might better exploit you, but rather to unite with you and thereby bring forth something new, a creative synthesis emerging from both of your depths. He desires to liberate that which has been hidden by the separation between knower and known. His ultimate goal of knowledge is not increased mastery, prediction, and control, but rather a more richly responsive and empowered participation in a co-creative unfolding of new realities. He seeks an intellectual fulfillment that is intimately linked with imaginative vision, moral transformation, empathic understanding, aesthetic delight. His act of knowledge is essentially an act of love and intelligence combined, of wonder as well as discernment, of opening to a process of mutual discovery.”
I think the Mother Teresa quote sums this up: “We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.”
Wow. That paragraph. Reading it I came to the realization it does matter that I’m here, that I’m alive at this moment in time. Not because I exist and therefore I matter — I can’t get behind that just yet — but rather because me being here now I am able to co-create something with the universe that otherwise would not have been birthed. Posted on my bathroom mirror is the question, “What does higher power want to work through me? And what part of self needs to step aside in order for that to happen?” God, higher power, the universe is working through me in a mutually fulfilling way whereby we both benefit. I, you, we, have special gifts and talents that are not expendable, not exchangeable, and not unimportant.
My spiritual teacher says, “If one ant meets a premature death, it will disturb the balance of the entire cosmos. Therefore, nothing here is unimportant, not even an ant.” Later on, my spiritual teacher affirms that, “Nobody is unimportant, nobody is insignificant. Each and every existence is valuable.”
I’m not sure I’m conveying what I’d like here, but what I’m getting at is I matter, you matter, we matter. We are here for a reason. If I remain stuck in an inferiority complex of sorts, I miss the opportunity for higher power to work through me and I miss out on the creative synthesis Tarnas mentions. Part of that synthesis means valuing my part and not giving more significance to higher power’s because we are in a co-creative dance with the divine and as they say, it takes two to tango.
I dream of a world where we feel into the truth that we matter. A world where we understand our existence is important because through us, new things are being birthed that otherwise wouldn’t exist. A world where we realize our lives are more than a flash in the pan.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Recently, I had an interaction with a man online who professed his love for me before we’d even spoken on the telephone, skyped, or met in person. I recognized in him similar qualities in myself, which is to say “falling in love,” before getting to know a person, and making that person my everything. Reading some of his messages to me, my cheeks burned in shame remembering the way I behaved when in the midst of my love addiction.
I’ve been deeply embarrassed of my past self, wanting to sweep all my history under the rug, and furthermore, pretend I never wrote a book, which addresses love addiction among other things. For those of you haven’t read it, Just a Girl from Kansas, is a memoir from when I moved to San Francisco and everything that happened in that first year. It’s also a story about obsession and fantasy. Since it’s been published, I’ve wanted to burn it, take it all back, pretend I never wrote it, and hurry past that period of my life like a person crossing a sewage drain.
There’s nothing about us that makes us unlovable.
Interacting with this man recently made me realize how important my book is because it’s not only a book about addiction, obsession, and fantasy, it’s also a book about coming out of those things. A book about realizing how no man is ever going to fulfill me in the way I wanted to be fulfilled because the fulfillment I seek is an inside job. That is anything but shameful. Seeking a new way to live is courageous and commendable.
Also, my spiritual teacher says, “[T]he arena of spirituality is based on divine love. You may or may not be a learned person. You may or may not have a good history. Your only qualification is that you are the affectionate progeny of the Supreme Progenitor. You are His object of affection … The Father’s love is for all. [O]ne must not forget this fact – that the Supreme Entity is with you, and loves you like anything.”
It’s like that post I wrote the other week, “We are the Beloved.” I am loved unconditionally, which means no matter what I do, I am loved. Now what I’m learning is to love myself in the same way. To love all the “shameful” parts of myself, all the parts that I don’t want others to see, because it is only by loving them that I may absorb them and let them go. Also, as my recovery mentor reminds me, we often undergo hardship so we may help others. After all, according to Ram Dass, we’re all just walking each other home.
I dream of a world where we love ourselves unconditionally. A world where we know there is nothing shameful about us. A world where we realize our deepest, darkest secrets may just help someone else. A world where we come out of the shame closet.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The other day, my brother told me he boils down his spiritual practice to two tenets: meditate, and be a good person. That got me thinking, what does it mean to be a good person? Some people say being a good person means following the 10 commandments: don’t steal, kill anybody, or commit adultery, to name a few. The yogic version is follow the yamas and the niyamas, which also have some crossover with the 10 commandments but include things like cleanliness and contentment as well. Is that enough though?
As our national dialogue is focused on the Syrian refugee crisis, I can’t help but think, no, it’s not. It’s not enough to be nice. How does that solve the problem of tons of people who no longer have anywhere to live?
Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s important to be kind to others, but that kindness has to translate into action, such as offering a room to a refugee or pressuring the government to accept more of them. There are terrible things that go on in the world, but we are the ones who have to do something about it. Robert Swan says, “The greatest threat to our planet is the belief that someone else will save it.”
Isn’t this picture adorable? Goodness!
If we, the good people, don’t band together, don’t rise up and do something, terrible things will continue to happen. My desire to serve others, my passion for the environment, everything I hold dear, stems from my spiritual practice. I want to help others because I don’t see other people as “other,” I see them as my brothers and sisters. I see them as a part of my larger family so of course I want to help them. Just as I couldn’t stand to see my blood sister go hungry, nor can I stand to see my spiritual sister go hungry. That is a direct result of spirituality opening my heart more.
I would say, no, it’s not enough to be a good person if being a good person doesn’t translate into action. My spiritual teacher says the same thing and in fact, declares following yama and niyama is the prerequisite to learning meditation. Be a good person first, and then build on that.
I love superhero movies (they’re my favorite genre actually), but as much as I kind of wish Thor would descend to Earth and save us from ourselves, I don’t see any evidence of that happening soon. Batman is more of a possibility because he’s human, but why should all the work fall on his shoulders? My spiritual teacher also says, and this is paraphrasing, that the strength of five good people is more than the united strength of a hundred immoral people. I take that to mean if we all unite together we can overpower the dark forces in the world. We can stop the terrors and tortures, but it requires more than being honest.
I dream of a world where we recognize being a good person isn’t good enough. A world where our goodness translates into action. A world where the good people unite to keep the immoral people in check. A world where we help each other out and refuse to sit idly by as we watch atrocities continue to happen because the love in our hearts is too great to allow it.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
On Wednesday, I had a full-on meltdown. I’m talking lying on the floor while tears streamed down my cheeks. What precipitated the meltdown was feeling like I’m not fully utilizing my talents, and at the same time unclear what precisely that means. What am I doing with my life and how can I make money doing what I love? Add in a dose of doubt that my dreams are even possible, and you have a synthesis of my breakdown.
I think primarily I’m struggling against making art and making money. The age-old conundrum. My spiritual teacher says it’s the duty of society to support its artists because artists are pioneers. “If those who are the pioneers of society … if they are forced to starve or half-starve, this will certainly not be to the credit of human society. It is unthinkable that these creative geniuses should curse their own fate.”
Artists and writers have an important role to play.
What I love is that my spiritual teacher values artists. He calls us pioneers because, and this is important, he is against art for art’s sake and rather sees artists as accomplishing something greater than that. I think there’s a time and a place for art for art’s sake. For instance, sometimes I draw pictures because I need a nonverbal way of expressing myself. But I also think there’s a difference between creative expression and art for public consumption. The slogan my teacher advocates for instead is art for service and blessedness.
My spiritual guide is primarily concerned with spiritual growth and he sees art as one mechanism for aiding that growth. He says literature in particular is “that which moves together with the society, which leads society towards true fulfillment and welfare by providing the inspiration for service.” Art is not just about showcasing what’s inside my own head, but a way to spur people forward, to inspire, to encourage, and to hopefully put people in touch with something greater than themselves.
In a sort of call to arms he writes, “People seek deliverance from the whirlpools of darkness; they aspire to illuminate their lives and minds with ever-new light. In all their actions, in all their feelings, there is an inherent tendency to move forward; therefore, if at all they are to be offered something, the creator of art cannot remain idle or inert.”
I could go on, indeed, there are 37 other pages I could quote, but I guess what I’m saying here is even if I never write a bestselling book, even if I never have 10,000 followers, I have an important role to play. I am here to link the finite and the infinite, the mundane and the transcendental because that is my role as an artist.
I dream of a world where artists are treasured. A world where they practice art for service and blessedness because they’re not constantly concerned about how to keep the lights on. A world where artists are allowed to fulfill the role they are meant to, which is to link the finite and the infinite, the mundane and the transcendental.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Last week, I watched an inspirational movie about kids who utilized their talents to win scholarships to college and pull themselves out of poverty. All of the kids were the first in their families to go to college, and by doing so they become teachers, writers, policemen, etc. They weren’t forced to work in low-wage jobs like their parents were.
I teared up watching the flick – I love that they improved their lives – but then I got to thinking, “What about everyone else?” What about the kids who don’t have an exceptional talent that wins them a scholarship? These kids escaped the cycle of poverty, but someone else is waiting in the wings to take their place. Just because one person no longer has to pick oranges for a living doesn’t mean oranges stop getting picked. It doesn’t mean all the other orange pickers no longer have to endure poor working conditions and low wages.
If you think about it, all society consists of is you and me. “You” being plural here.
The cycle of exploitation continues and our capitalistic economy feeds off it. In the case of food production, almost literally. Why is this? Because we continue to emphasis the rights of individuals (or corporations, who are now considered people) over the collective.
I’ve seen the individual versus the collective show up in a big way this week with the killing of Cecil the Lion. Minnesotan dentist Walter Palmer paid $50,000 to hunt Cecil the Lion, who was a big tourist attraction in Zimbabwe. Did Palmer think about anyone other than himself when he set out to kill Cecil? No he did not. He was prioritizing his own selfish interests.
Another way that the individual versus the collective is prioritized is the public’s reaction to the killing of Cecil. We’re directing so much ire against Palmer, but not talking as much about poaching laws in general. Outrage has reached such a fever pitch that Zimbabwe is calling for Palmer’s extradition and many people in the U.S. agree. I think part of the reason we’re seeing so much outrage over Cecil is it’s easy to excoriate an individual.
A few of my friends who are more focused on the collective have exclaimed they wish society would be as outraged over the killing of black people in our country as people are over the killing of Cecil. It’s harder to evoke as much outrage against a system, which is also harder to dismantle, than it is to get pissed off an at individual. Racism is so rampant, it’s seeped into many aspects of life, and how do you go about changing something like that?
I think it starts with prioritizing the collective. There is an African proverb that says, “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” We are not going to go far if we keep focusing on ourselves alone. We are not going to solve any of our serious societal problems if we’re thinking, “How can I benefit?” instead of “How can we benefit?” Life can be better for all of us but that starts with striking a balance between the individual and the collective.
My spiritual teacher says, “One must not forget that collective welfare lies in individuals and individual welfare lies in collectivity. Without ensuring individual comforts through the proper provision of food, light, air, accommodation, and medical treatment, the welfare of the collective body can never be achieved. One will have to promote individual welfare motivated by the spirit of promoting collective welfare.”
I dream of a world where we go far, together. A world where we prioritize taking care of each other. A world where we understand what’s good for the collective is also good for the individual. A world where we work to raise each other up, and improve life for us all, because after all, you plus me equals we.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Marriage has been on my mind a lot because everyone and their mother (including mine) is trying to set me up. “He’s single, you’re single: It’s a match!” No one has actually said that to me, but that’s the impression I get based on who people are trying to set me up with. Now, I realize a single person writing about marriage is like a virgin writing about sex, but here I am anyway, fumbling about.
An aspect that I don’t hear discussed often about marriage is its ability to enhance spiritual growth. Usually, marriage is couched in terms of companionship, of having someone to start a family with, and just generally a partner in life that you love. Something else that seems to creep in from my outside perspective is this idea that someone else is responsible for a person’s feelings. That someone else is responsible for our happiness.
I take a different view of marriage than some I think.
I have a big problem with that way of thinking, because as was so aptly pointed out in a New York Times piece called “The Wedding Toast I’ll Never Give,” there will be times where a person will look at his or her spouse and feel only rage. Nobody else is responsible for my happiness and putting them in charge of it is only asking for trouble. I can speak from experience here because I used to make certain people my cocaine and that resulted in some of the most painful experiences of my life.
I often quote Marianne Williamson who says, “Romantic relationships are like getting a PhD in spirituality.” What does that mean exactly? It means other people don’t exist to make me feel good; it means every person and every relationship is a teacher. All of them provide opportunities to bring me closer to the divine. Marriage then becomes about living my life in a “new way with a special type of responsibility,” as my spiritual teacher would say.
In fact, the marriage oaths of my spiritual practices are that the person takes upon themselves the responsibility for their spouse’s food, clothes, education, medical care, etc. That the spouse will be vigilant to safeguard the other’s mental peace and ensure their mental progress, as well safeguarding the other’s spiritual progress. These oaths to me mean sincerely taking care of another person’s all-around welfare and growth. That marriage is about taking into account not only another person’s needs, but trying to help them along the spiritual path. The emphasis is not on the self, but on another.
Does that sound dry and kind of clinical? It’s not meant to be – there’s something special about romantic love, something almost magical, and mystical and that, too, is an important part of marriage. I’m not discounting pleasure or love here, I’m just saying there’s more to marriage than just love, at least from a spiritual perspective.
I guess what I’m doing here is trying to assuage my single self, to provide some comfort because it’s clear there’s no way I could be satisfied with any single guy who walked through my door, because whoever I marry needs to be someone that can ensure I am progressing mentally and spiritually. That marriage for me is not about having someone warm my bed or keep me from feeling lonely on a permanent basis. Love is important, but I’m looking for love plus something else.
I dream of a world where we all take a different view of marriage. A world where we revere love, but we also add something more to the mix. A world where we think about marriage in terms of aiding another in the form of the divine.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.