There, Too

Life feels hard right now. My peppy outlook on life is not so peppy at the moment. Things are not working out how I'd like, leaving me feeling frustrated and despondent.

The other day I had a vision of myself sinking to the bottom of the ocean floor and saw my spiritual teacher there with me, which inspired a poem.

I am there too

In the darkness and the mourning,
I am there too
In the somber and the despairing,
I am there too
In the heavy and the hopeless,
I am there too
I am there, with you

In the deepest depths and the lowest lows,
I am there, with you
Not one minute alone
Not one minute by yourself
I'm with you always
I am your truest Self

Even in the dark, light may be found.

I'm not sure I can express the significance of this for me. I've tried so hard not to feel sad or depressed or hopeless. In my mind, a divine presence is associated with happiness, inspiration, and hope. That means to feel a divine presence, I thought I had to be in those states. The vision I had reminds me that's false.

My spiritual tradition doesn't believe in hell and it is said, “[S]piritual aspirants should never be unnecessarily worried about heaven and hell. If one does noble deeds or sings spiritual songs in hell, it is the bounden duty of the Lord of hell to be there, too, and thus it automatically ceases to be a hell. You can transform a hell into a heaven.”

That means God is there too. Love is there too. It's not sequestered to the happy places, the joyful places. The presence of a power greater than myself is found in the dark places too, the despairing places. There is no place I can go, either literally or figuratively, where the divine is not. It's a great comfort to me knowing I don't have to pretend things are alright or put on a happy face in order to feel connection, because no matter where I go, I am not alone.

I dream of a world where we feel the presence of a power greater than ourselves at all times. A world where we allow ourselves to feel all of our feelings, no matter how scary. A world where we realize wherever we go, God is there too.

Another world is not only possible, it's probable.

P.S. Did you know “Another World is Probable” is also a podcast? Click here to subscribe.

A Miracle We Give Ourselves

I notice there's a tendency in me and in society to avoid the deep and dark places. We are uncomfortable with displays of depression and despair.

The other day, a friend posted on facebook that she felt depressed and the majority of her friends said, “Are you getting help? Are you taking medication?” I'm not saying people shouldn't take meds and shouldn't seek help, but it's interesting to notice their reactions. How quickly people turned to solutions instead of saying, “I hear you,” or “Me too.”

I understand the rush toward solutions. I know in myself, the minute I feel depressed or hopeless, I want to leave those states as quickly as possible. I don't want to sit with the feelings, I don't want to acknowledge them, I don't want to give them air time. If I could bypass all the uncomfortable feelings, that would be great, thanks.

Even small acts of love can have great effects.

As my therapist reminds me, it doesn't work that way. I can't pretend certain feelings don't exist just because I'd rather they didn't. The only way to move through the feelings is to first have awareness of them, and second to feel them. In thinking of my spiritual practices, I'd like to add a third step.

I am reminded of the work crafted by a monk I knew. He used to say every cell of our body is longing for liberation, is longing for oneness with something greater than ourselves. Not only the parts we acknowledge, but the parts we push away as well. He went to graduate school for psychology and developed a mantra therapy technique combining what he learned there with the principles of our yoga and meditation group. In these heart circles, as he called them, people would sit in a circle. One person would sit in the center of the circle and think about an emotion or belief they wanted release from. Then everyone on the perimeter sang to the person in the center. They verbally bathed the person with a Sanskrit mantra, sending them love. They imagined love coming through them and directed it to the person in the center of the circle.

I've been in many a circle, and people often weep or their expression softens or they start beaming. Something happens. Something happens because all parts of us want love. All parts want acknowledgment. All parts want us to say, “I see you, I hear you, and I love you.”

This week as I've sat with my own hard feelings, I've directed love their way. Not to drown them out, but in an act of tenderness and care. As Doreen Virtue says, “Love is the miracle that heals all things,” and that includes me. Instead of hating certain emotions, instead of pushing them away, instead of pretending they don't exist, instead of skipping over them, I'm sending them love. I'm going to the deepest, darkest places within me and saying, “I'm here and I love you,” because that's ultimately what I want. And what we all want.

I dream of a world where we give all parts of ourselves air time. A world where we embrace all parts of ourselves and say, “I'm here and I love you.” A world where we recognize love is the miracle that heals all things and it's a miracle we can give to ourselves.

Another world is not only possible, it's probable.

The Deep Question

It's been a rough week. I found out a friend of mine committed suicide and it sent me reeling. Not only am I grieving the loss of my friend, but I'm also questioning the meaning of life, what my priorities are, how I'm spending my days, etc. The inconsequential questions, in other words.

Primarily what her death brought up in me is nihilism. What's the point of it all? What am I doing here? In our capitalistic culture I see an emphasis on pleasure. On squeezing every last drop of joy out of life that we possibly can. Of doing cool and unusual things – swimming with dolphins in Maui, hiking up Mt. Everest, and then snapping an instagram photo so everyone knows about it. I'm not saying these are inherently bad things, but should they be the point of life? Our entire focus? What about acquiring wealth and power? Is that the point of life? Should we all be aiming to buy a Tesla and run a Fortune 500 company?

Let's dive deep like this sea turtle. 

My friend's death reminds me we can't take any of these things with us when we go. When we leave the material world, we leave everything behind. Considering all this put me in a funk. In times like these, I turn to the things I know work: sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Just kidding. I turned to my spiritual practices and reached out to friends.

Looking at my spiritual practices, the point of life is not to suck every ounce of pleasure that we can from it. The point of life is to realize the beloved. To move closer to our nearest and dearest, our most precious entity. A friend reminded me this happens not through withdrawing from life to sit on a mountaintop in meditation. It happens by being here, being present, engaging. I know some spiritual paths expound complete renunciation, but mine is not one of them.

My spiritual path advocates subjective approach and objective adjustment, which as I've mentioned before, makes zero sense to me. Until now. Now I understand. It means, “Keep your eyes trained on the divine and adjust how you do that based on circumstances.” For instance, if I broke my leg and couldn't sit in a proper meditation position, that's OK, I can meditate lying down. The point is, don't stop. Keep going. I don't have to do things perfectly or follow every rule set forth by a spiritual adviser. The important thing is to keep moving.

I'm tearing up writing this because I'm thinking of my friend who felt so hopeless, so despairing, she took her life. I'm tearing up writing this because I, too, know what it's like to want to stop. To feel hopeless and despairing. To believe nothing will change and to ask, “What's the point?” I sympathize with my friend because sometimes to continue moving feels like the hardest possible thing. But I also know for me there is no other choice. Death is like changing a t-shirt, according to my spiritual teacher, so that means I'll reincarnate in another body and trade one set of circumstances for another.

If the point of life is sacred union with something greater than myself, I have to live in such a way that I experience the sacred and holy beyond when I'm meditating. I am not the Buddha. I don't have the patience to sit in endless meditation day after day, night after night. I have to engage in the world, and to engage in the world in a way that doesn't feel pointless, means I must feel the touch of the eternal even in the ephemeral.

I dream of a world where we see the divine in all things. A world where we keep going even when times are tough. A world where we feel our feelings and keep in mind feelings are not facts.

Another world is not only possible, it's probable.

The Great Equalizer

Maybe I'm off base, but it seems to me in the West there's a notion spirituality is for the privileged. For people who don't have to worry so much about the mundane necessities of life. For people who have time and space to contemplate why they're here and what their purpose is. But that's not true; spirituality is for all. It's everyone's birthright.

I understand why someone would tell me otherwise, because when you don't have a place to live, it's hard to ruminate on the sacred. I'm nothing if not practical. Our basic needs must be met, yet at the same time we keep chasing after the next thing and then the next. If not something we desire, then something we have to get done. However, there's always something on the to-do list. When does it end?

Mmmm, equality, symmetry.

Paraphrasing my spiritual teacher, there is in the living being a thirst for limitlessness. Knowingly or unknowingly, human beings are running after limitlessness. However, it is not possible for limited objects to quench one's thirst. That means it doesn't matter how much money I have or how good I look in a bathing suit or who is by my side. There will always be a longing and a yearning for something more, something greater.

That longing, that yearning, is not confined to a privileged few. Nor is it a luxury. From my perspective, it's not a luxury because without it, we have people and leaders who are interested only in satisfying their own desires. Without it, we have people who feel separate from each other and treat each other as such. Without it, the environment becomes a resource we pillage instead of a sacred entity.

Look, I realize all the world's problems can't be solved by meditating. We are human beings living in a world of matter. That means action is necessary. Meditating on ending world hunger doesn't end world hunger. But how do you convince people ending world hunger is a good idea? In my mind, that comes from spirituality. From opening up their hearts. The meditation I practice connects me to all living beings and doing so means I'm not OK with them coming to harm. I recognize myself in others as opposed to seeing them as strangers, and that comes directly from my spiritual practice.

Spirituality is the great equalizer because it's a reminder we all want the same things and we all belong to each other. It's a reminder we're all in this together. Not only that, spirituality is the only thing that will satisfy our ultimate longing because material goods never will. That's true not only for some, but for all.

I dream of a world where we realize what we hunger for exists on the spiritual plane. A world where we realize we all want the same things. A world where we view spirituality as a necessity rather than a luxury because we are all striving for eternal bliss.

Another world is not only possible, it's probable.