Satisfaction

I'm sick right now. I've had a low-grade fever for the past few days. I'm not thinking clearly in my fevered state and find myself reaching for everything to feel better. Not only medicinally I mean. I want to eat everything in my fridge, I want to watch all the movies, I want to sleep all day. I want to do everything all at once. And hi, being sick means I'm not satisfied with any of it. I'm a lock searching for a key yet to be found.

It has me thinking about the principles of my spiritual practice. My teacher says mundane pleasures give human beings temporary satisfaction and relief but nothing of a permanent nature. I'm there! I'm acutely aware of that state because I am dissatisfied with everything. I don't know what I need or what I want other than the general “to feel better.” I eat something and momentarily I feel better, but then I feel worse. I don't mention all this for pity but rather to express being sick has put me in touch with the pain of being human. When I'm well, the pain and pleasure cycles last longer. When I'm sick, they're shortened, demonstrating to me how much I desire permanent pleasure.

I want to eat all the cookies! Photo by Brooke Lark on Unsplash

My spiritual teacher says only by turning toward something infinite and unwavering will we feel permanent pleasure. Communing with a power greater than ourselves is what brings that permanent happiness. I don't think it's a coincidence that at the moment I don't feel spiritually connected. I don't feel the love of a higher power. I don't feel in the flow of life. My meditation sucks at the moment because I can't hold a thought for more than a second or two. It's taken me twice as long to write this post as normal.

You might be asking yourself, “Why is she even writing this?” I'm writing this as a reminder to me that getting caught in the pain/pleasure cycle sucks. I'm writing this as a reminder to myself that as much as I want to eat cookies, they're not ultimately going to make me feel better. I need rest and medicine at the moment, but even when I'm not sick, I'm more satisfied, more content when I'm not chasing one thing or another. I'm more content when I turn inward during meditation and when I turn outward to serve others. Happiness cannot be found at the bottom of a bag or a box anymore than it can be found at the bottom of a bottle.

I often forget where true happiness lies even when I'm not sick because I think it can be found through a career highlight or a romantic relationship. Those things absolutely contribute to happiness but not of a lasting nature. Lasting happiness comes from communion with a higher power and serving others. The more I remember that, the better.

I dream of a world where we recognize what will make us truly happy. A world where we understand material things only contribute to our happiness in a fleeting way. A world where we turn inward to meditate on the divine and turn outward to serve others.

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

Maybe We Don't Need to Know

My therapist said something to me this week that I'd heard before but this time I really heard. He told me, "There are some things you don't need to know." I'm a curious person and want to know everything. That curiosity is a key component of being a journalist. It's a journalist's job to find out as much as possible about a story. However, truly, there are some things we don't need to know.

I think we understand this in the context of children. Children are not served by hearing the full details of scary or complex things. We don't tell them graphic details of war or rape. We may paint with broad brushstrokes or present information in a way they understand, but children don't need to know everything.

I know these are the "evil" monkeys, but they work well with knowledge too. Photo by Joao Tzanno on Unsplash.

In many spiritual traditions, God or higher power or the divine is parentified. We are usually called divine children of God or a variation of that, and so it follows that perhaps higher power treats us the same way a parent would, as in the universe shields us from information. I've said before if I knew all the things the universe had in store for me I would get overwhelmed. That continues to be true. After contemplating I don't need to know everything about the future, I feel more at ease. I feel more at peace. I feel more trust that it's not my job to gather as much information as possible and strategize regarding all the scenarios.

We have the saying, "Ignorance is bliss." I usually think about that expression with wistfulness, wishing I could go back in time and remain ignorant to bad news. Or I utter it with envy, wishing I could be like someone else who doesn't know what I know. However, maybe I can continue to experience bliss in the form of ignorance by remembering I don't have to answer every question; that I don't have to know what will happen next. Maybe it's OK for me to be in the dark sometimes and trust it's for a good reason. Maybe I can relax into the knowledge I am still a child and there is still a parent taking care of me. Not my birth parents, although them too, but also an unseen parent, a mystical parent.

My spiritual teacher says it is the duty of the Cosmic Consciousness to look after us, the divine children. He also said this Cosmic Consciousness will do whatever is best for us, that our needs and necessities are better known by this divine energy.

"A child of two months does not know what she requires; her mother knows," he wrote. "She is solely dependent upon her mother. Similarly, devotees are solely dependent on the Cosmic Father, and for that reason the Cosmic Father has a special responsibility."

For today anyway, I'm feeling into that more, letting myself be a child. Letting myself swim in ignorance, recognizing the bliss that comes with it. I'm remembering I don't need to know everything and also that I'm dependent on a power greater than myself that is taking care of me.

I dream of a world where we realize sometimes it's OK to be in the dark. A world where we understand we don't need to know everything. A world where we realize there is a force greater than us in the world and that force is here, acting as our parent.

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

Love and Magic

Something happened to me this past week that threw me for a loop. I spiraled into a lot of fear and insecurity, projecting the worst possible outcome. Despite having a blog called "Another World is Probable," for my own life, my first impulse is doom and gloom. When I'm in this emotional place, I lose all rational faculties and feel utterly alone, despite all evidence to the contrary.

I had an experience on Saturday that pulled me out of that hole and helped me change my perspective. My friend Rachel Kaplan launched her podcast, "The Healing Feeling Sh*t Show." I highly recommend checking it out, by the way. It's all about emotional potty training for adults. I attended the launch party by myself, anticipating I'd see familiar faces in the crowd, but no one I'd spent much time with. While hobnobbing, I spotted not one, but three people I hadn't seen in years. It felt like a gift, a synchronistic delight, to anticipate aloneness but instead have the opposite experience.

The world is magical. Photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash

I realize some of you will scratch your heads because after all, don't Rachel and I have friends in common and therefore wouldn't it make sense I would see them at her launch party? Yes, yes it would. But wait! There's more. I ordered a Lyft home and the driver was also a friend of mine! That's literally never happened to me before.

I bring this up because all of these synchronicities reminded me life is magical, that there is an intelligence at play in the universe. It reminded me I may think I'm alone and under-resourced, but in actuality I have a wealth of care and support at my fingertips. There is an inherent love for me that I cannot fathom or anticipate.

Despite the numerous magical experiences in my life, I usually think they're a fluke. I think the synchronicity is a one-off, something never to be repeated. My experience from Saturday night illustrated to me how wrong that is. Magic, synchronicity, and care is more the norm than it is the exception. I regularly have these experiences. Not so regular I can predict their occurrence, but regular nonetheless.

I'm not alone in this. I know many people experience synchronicity and what could be called a coincidence. For me, today, I'm taking it as evidence of a loving higher power. An entity that acts benevolently, that orchestrates things in such a way that I'm taken care of, and also shows me from time to time that I'm not alone, that there are greater forces at work in the world that I'm often unaware of.

My spiritual tradition corroborates this. Over and over again my spiritual teacher says the divine loves us more than we can imagine. Loves us so purely, completely, and unconditionally our human brains are unable to comprehend the depth and breadth of love. But it's up to us to recognize it.

I dream of a world where we realize we are not alone. A world where we recognize there is a greater, benevolent force at play in our lives. A world where we remember we are loved deeply and completely and that means we'll experience magic from time to time.

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

Retreating

I'm recycling this post from 2016 because it feels relevant. 

I don't want to “adult” right now. By that I mean I don't want to be responsible, I don't want to run any errands, I don't want to show up and engage in life. What's interesting is I don't want to go somewhere else, I don't want to swim with dolphins in Maui for instance. I want to withdraw completely. In yoga, the term for withdrawal is pratyáhára.

Pratyáhára is not the same thing as hibernating. In its true form, pratyáhára means the conscious endeavor to withdraw the mind from mundane qualities and attractions and direct it toward something subtler. It's considered a crucial first step in meditation.

Sometimes it's important to retreat from the world.

I won't claim that I practice perfect withdrawal, but the space I'm in right now is a melancholy one. I don't want to engage or connect. I want to retreat from the world, which is highly unusual for me because my name literally means to bind. I'm all about connection, presence, and form. I love making things happen, turning an idea into reality. But right now, that doesn't interest me.

I could start to chastise myself because I place so much value on engaging, but when I think about pratyáhára, I remind myself it's possible this, too, is OK. This, too, is a part of the spiritual process. I know my spiritual teacher discusses the term in relation to meditation, but I wonder if for me right now the desire to physically withdraw is also a call to go inward. To turn toward my inner self and practice communion with the loving presence within me that's also within everyone.

All things in moderation of course – the world cannot function if we all retreat all the time, but maybe retreating also has a place. Maybe I don't have to be “on” all of the time or responsible all the time or aware all the time. Maybe it's OK for me to check out. I struck a nerve there because typing that I started to tear up.

I'm learning to become a more balanced human being, but to do so I have to spend time at either end of the spectrum. To paraphrase my spiritual teacher, meditation is an effort to remove one's internal distortions – to extract the gold from the alloy, in order to experience merger with the divine. The distortions should not be cast aside, but should be smelted in the fire of meditation and restored to their pure and original form. And withdrawal is a part of that process.

I dream of a world where we strike a balance between withdrawal and engagement. A world where we give ourselves permission to retreat every once in a while. A world where we understand there is a place for all things.

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