Magic in the Muck

It’s funny how the body remembers things and conjures up memories for us – right now I’m reminded exactly 13 years ago I was in Europe for a New Year’s retreat. I haven’t thought about that trip in years. I think it’s coming up now not only because of the date, but also due to my emotional landscape. I’m in a liminal space where I’ve left something behind, but I’m not yet fully in the something new, which if you think about it encapsulates this year. This is the last week of 2020, which we’re all ready to put behind us, but we’re not yet in 2021.

How does this relate to my trip to Europe in 2007? It was a time of my life when I was so ready to move to San Francisco but hadn’t yet. It was a period I had so much trepidation about the future and no idea how everything would work out, or even if it would. Plus, the trip itself was filled with lots of anxiety as I had numerous “near misses” and “almosts.” I flew into London first so I could travel to the retreat site in Sweden with people I knew. En route to Sweden, first my bus didn’t come when it was supposed to, and then the doors didn’t open at my stop. When I moved further up the bus to the open doors, they shut in my face. That meant I was late getting to the airport and worried I would miss my flight, which would defeat the entire purpose of traveling to London in the first place.

This is a picture of a post office in France. Photo credit: Moi.

 

I didn’t miss my flight, somehow I made it in the nick of time. Everything worked out. And that was the theme of the entire trip. During the retreat I became ill, but there was an acupuncturist onsite who gave me a treatment. On the way back to London, I traveled alone. I made a pitstop in a Swedish grocery store and went up to a random woman and asked her to translate ingredients into English for me, which she did. I took a side trip to France and had a minute to spare before they closed check in for the EuroStar, which is a train that shuttles people from London to Paris. I stayed with an acquaintance in Paris but she neglected to give me her apartment number and I couldn’t reach her to ask for it, so I literally knocked on every door of the apartment building trying to find her. An apartment building without an elevator, I might add.

That trip was not all sunshine and roses. At the time I hated every mishap and near mishap, but now I laugh and shake my head. Now, I feel gratitude that despite the hardships, everything worked out. I was OK, I was taken care of, help showed up when I needed it. That’s what 2020 was for me as well: not all sunshine and roses but I was OK, I was taken care of, help showed up when I needed it. Instead of tossing this year away like worn out wrapping paper, I’m grateful for the lessons I learned, the friendships I deepened, and the grace I received.

According to my spiritual practices, God/the universe/Brahma/Cosmic Consciousness, whatever name you want to use, loves us unconditionally. Wants the best for us. Wants us to be happy, joyous, and free. The God of my understanding is not Santa Claus and doesn’t do things to punish us. Everything happens for our benefit, even the hard stuff. When I look back at my trip to Europe 13 years ago, I know that’s true. Because while this post focused on the hardships, in that trip I learned important things about myself, like I could never live in Europe and that I can navigate a foreign country on my own without speaking the language. Plus, I met people who changed the trajectory of my life.

When I think back to my trip, I’m reminded I can feel afraid and still show up for myself. I’m reminded even when things are hard, I can still muddle through. And that’s a lesson I think we all learned this year.

I dream of a world where we realize how strong we truly are. A world where we recognize we show up for life even when it is hard, even if it takes us a while. A world where we’re proud of ourselves for our courage and tenacity. A world where we realize there’s magic in the muck.

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

Little Joys

You know how people keep saying life feels like the movie Groundhog Day right now? That comparison doesn’t resonate for me in terms of the movie itself because in the film, Bill Murray broke up monotony by learning the piano and wooing Andie MacDowell. In my life, it feels like I’m watching Groundhog Day over and over again because I already know what to expect each day for the most part: work, a walk, and a Zoom call.

I didn’t know until I started writing this post, but a definition of Groundhog Day, is “a situation in which a series of unwelcome or tedious events appear to be recurring in exactly the same way.” So from that perspective, yeah, I’m on board with life right now being Groundhog Day. If variety is the spice of life, my life is pretty bland at the moment. There’s a pinch of variety in terms of decorating my apartment for the holidays, and FaceTiming with my family for Hanukkah, but otherwise it’s pretty monotonous over here.

When I told my mom I wasn’t sure I had anything to write about this week, especially not in a positive or uplifting way, she told me a lot of people likely feel the way I do. They’re glum because they can’t celebrate the holidays with their normal traditions, and their lives are also an endless cycle of work, walks, and Zoom calls. I know folks are feeling optimistic because vaccine distribution has started so there’s light at the end of the tunnel, but honestly, I feel like a little kid because my response is, “Yeah, but how does that help me now?” It doesn’t.

I love this picture. So joyful! Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

And that’s true. It doesn’t. The question becomes what can I do now, in this present moment, to bring variety? In the middle of writing this post I pulled out my guitar for the first time in years. No agenda, no goal in mind like, “I want to be good enough to play in front of other people.” I just played for me, for the fun of it. I also conducted a science experiment where I mixed two drops of food coloring in oil and then poured the mixture into a glass of room temperature water. The result? Water fireworks because the food coloring separates from the oil and plummets to the bottom of the glass. My inner child loves science experiments and they definitely bring variety.

Often I look to the future to meet my needs: “I’ll feel better when XYZ happens,” and I get stuck on a certain strategy to meet those needs. For instance, “I need the pandemic to be over in order to experience variety again.” What I’m reminded through my nonviolent communication training is there are a thousand strategies to meet every need. There’s no one way or a right way. When I focus on the need itself, I’m able to brainstorm and find delightful strategies in the moment, like creating water fireworks. And sometimes the only way to meet a need in the present moment is to remember a time when the need was met in the past and relive it. The body doesn’t know the difference between the past, present, or future so reliving something can become a present moment experience.

I know this post isn’t like many of my other ones, but I share it because I want people to know they’re not alone. And secondly, it’s my wish that sharing my process can help someone else. And if not, at least I’ll have a reminder of that time in 2020 when I felt like I was losing my mind due to monotony and then played my guitar and watched food coloring metamorphosize in water.

I dream of a world where we focus on the present and what we need in the moment. A world where we remember there are a thousand ways to meet every need. A world where we understand we don’t have to put our happiness on layaway and instead we can do something to change our mood right here and right now if we choose. A world where we indulge in little joys.

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

Being the Light

It’s raining as I type this, which on the one hand I’m thrilled about because California needs rain. On the other hand, I have seasonal affective disorder (SAD) so when it rains my mood plummets and I feel mildly depressed. To counter the depression, I pulled out my SAD lamp and strung up fairy lights.

I find it especially poetic that I’m bringing more literal light into my life as right now it’s also Hanukkah. To celebrate Hanukkah, Jews all over the world light candles for eight days. One of the principles of Hanukkah is the idea that one candle may kindle the light of many others and yet lose none of its own light. I like that idea. I think especially right now as we’re facing surging COVID-19 numbers and many of us are unable to celebrate the holidays as we normally do, there’s something important about being a light, spreading light, but also recognizing darkness.

Light is its most potent in the dark. Photo by Chris Moore on Unsplash

 

Candles are most effective in the dark. Fairy lights are the most appealing when other lights are off. You can’t have lightness and brightness without darkness. There’s a writer I like named Jeff Brown who discusses this. He says:

“Real spirituality is all about ‘enrealment’ – it includes everything human in the equation. The real now is the one that includes everything we left behind on the path. We must work through our story, before the unresolved elements of our story kill us.”

Yes! My spiritual path is about using everything as a vehicle for liberation or enlightenment. About not running from feelings and tough times, and yet always remembering there is something more to me. Something outside the drama, the ups and downs, a witnessing part of me that remains unaffected and emits a light that can never be diminished. It’s my goal to keep growing that light, to keep remembering its presence, and to kindle that light in others.

We each have a light within us that is longing to burn ever brighter, to radiate within ourselves and those around us. In this holiday season, may you also remember the light being that you are. May you remember you are more than the sum of your parts, and may you also endeavor to shine a light on all parts of yourself.

The more you and I can do that, the more we can create a world we wish to see. One where we celebrate with one another, but also mourn with one another because instead of trying to bypass the hard, challenging, shadow parts of ourselves and this world, we acknowledge them. We acknowledge them and we bring light to them, which transforms them.

I dream of a world where we remember our brightness and we share that brightness with others. A world where we’re not scared of shadows because shadows are where light is most needed. A world where we embrace all parts of ourselves as we kindle the flame of “enrealment.” A world where we’re able to be the light.

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

Real Freedom Requires Limits

As California enters its second lockdown, I keep thinking about freedom. What does it mean to be free? Some people would say it’s doing whatever you want, whenever you want. But is that really true?

I read a great essay by Rebecca Solnit on “Masculinity as Radical Selfishness.” She mentions the axiom, “My right to swing my arm ends where your nose begins,” which is about balancing personal freedom with the rights of others. It’s also about watching out for someone else’s rights. She says what we’re seeing a prevalence of right now though is the idea that my right to swing my arm doesn’t end where your nose begins, but instead just doesn’t end. And in fact, your nose is not my problem and should get out of the way.

She also says in the U.S., “unlimited armswinging peaks at an intersection between whiteness and maleness, with plenty of white women on board who seem to believe that a white lady’s job is to protect white men’s armswinging (often with a selfless disregard for their own noses).” I think she’s right. Often what we associate with “freedom” is really just hypermasculinity because again to quote Solnit, the isolated individual (ideally white and male) are the metaphorical fists and must rule supreme. However, there’s a lack of understanding here that no man is an island; we don’t live in our own self-contained bubbles accomplishing everything by ourselves. It seems to me this pandemic more than anything is highlighting that. We want someone else to cut our hair. We want someone else to make our food. We want someone else to sit next to us and smile.

Would this woman be able to travel safely without the limit of road rules? No. Photo by Averie Woodard on Unsplash

 

Humans are social creatures. We are not meant to live in isolation. The hypermasculine freedom some in the U.S. idealize is a myth because what happens when that individual gets sick? They rely on the collective to help them out – they go to the hospital for care, or a doctor, or the drugstore.

My spiritual teacher says “just as my life is important to me, others’ lives are equally important to them; and if we do not give proper value to the lives of all creatures, then the development of the entire humanity becomes impossible.”

It becomes impossible because individual life is bound to the collective. Collective welfare lies in individuals and individual welfare lies in collectivity. There is no instance where my individual welfare doesn’t contribute to collective welfare. And furthermore, real freedom requires constraint. That may seem like an oxymoron but hear me out. Retired Navy SEAL, author, and podcaster Jocko Willink says, “Freedom is what everyone wants – to be able to act and live with freedom. But the only way to get to a place of freedom is through discipline. If you want financial freedom, you have to have financial discipline. If you want more free time, you have to follow a more disciplined time management system. Discipline equals freedom applies to every aspect of life: If you want more freedom, get more discipline.”

He’s talking specifically about individual freedom of course, but I think the same message applies to collective freedom. We’re able to drive safely, for the most part, because there are rules associated with driving. We’re able to buy food we enjoy because there are regulations that keep expired food off the shelves. I realize there are problems with the rules and regulations I listed, but I’d much rather have those problems than going into a grocery store and wondering if the food I’m buying will poison me.

Real freedom requires discipline and a care for others. Anything else is just selfishness that will eventually catch up to us.

I dream of a world where we recognize true freedom requires giving up a little bit of freedom. A world where we understand we can’t do what we want whenever we please without consequences for ourselves and others. A world where we understand real freedom requires limits.

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

One 'Starfish' at a Time

All week I’ve been thinking about the starfish story. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, the story goes like this: One day a man was walking along the beach littered with starfish, also called sea stars. He noticed a girl picking them up gently throwing them back into the ocean. Approaching the girl, he asked, “What are you doing?” She replied, “Throwing starfish back into the ocean. The surf is up and the tide is going out. If I don’t throw them back, they’ll die.”

The man said, “Don’t you realize there are miles and miles of beach and hundreds of starfish? You can’t make a difference!” After listening politely, the girl bent down, picked up another sea star and threw it back into the ocean. Smiling at the man she said, “I made a difference for that one.”

I love this story because it’s the reminder you don’t have to save all the sea stars, or all the people, or all the animals, or all the whatever. Even one life matters. It’s hard for me to remember that because instead I think of quantity. Quantity is what’s encouraged in our capitalistic culture. “How many views did that blogpost get?” “How many followers do you have?” “How big is your email list?” We think in terms of quantity because quality is hard to, well, quantify. How do you measure if listening to a song brought a person to tears? Or reading a book changed someone’s life? You can’t really. We try by saying, “Well, it was popular. It went viral,” but lots of things go viral.

Photo by Pedro Lastra on Unsplash

A compilation video of cats freaking out when they see cucumbers has gone viral – 24 million views and counting – but has anyone’s life changed as a result? I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with cat videos, I’m merely pointing out whether something is viral is not a good measure of its quality. I have to keep reminding myself of this because otherwise I get too fixated on the end result. I start thinking about all the sea stars littered across the beach instead of the one in front of me, so to speak. And the one in front of me matters. It matters because every life is precious and also because every person cares about what happens in their life. We are all a little self-centered, in a good way.

What I have to keep coming back to is why am I even writing in the first place? Sometimes I write just for me. But the writing I make available for public consumption is for me and for others. My spiritual teacher said:

“In every expression, in every stratum of this universe, however crude or subtle, only one refrain prevails, and that refrain is the attainment of bliss. In that artistic movement toward welfare both the attainment and the bestowal of happiness find simultaneous expression. When litterateurs dedicate themselves to the service or practice of literature, they have to let their creative genius flow in this very current: They have to cleanse all that is turbid, all that is inauspicious in individual life in the holy waters of their universal mentality, and then convey it sweetly and gracefully into the heart of humanity.”

When I write the things that matter to me, I’m trying to touch the heart of humanity. I’m trying to share my experience, strength, hope, and perspective in an effort to let people know they’re not alone. Or to get them to entertain a new perspective. Or open their hearts a little more. When I lose sight of my intention, that’s when I start thinking it only matters if I hit a certain threshold of popularity. But it doesn’t. Because like the girl throwing sea stars back into the ocean, I may not be making a difference for a million people, but I’m making a difference for at least one. And that’s something.

I dream of a world where we remember quantity isn’t everything. A world where we remember quality counts. A world where we keep in mind our intentions. A world where we stay close to the “why” of our actions and use that as motivation to propel us forward.

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

The Science in Spirituality

I had a conversation with a friend this weekend and was reminded that believing in materialism is a choice. We in the West take it for granted that materialism is the most scientific, rational way of being and that conversely, spirituality is unscientific and irrational. But is that really true?

First, some definitions. Materialism is the theory or belief that matter is the fundamental substance in nature, and that all things, including mental states and consciousness, are results of material interactions. Spirituality is the theory or belief that there is more to life than meets the senses, and more to the universe than just purposeless mechanics. It also involves believing in a higher form of intelligence or consciousness.

Spirituality can be studied and one way to do so is through psychic phenomena. For instance, the feeling that someone is staring at you. Did you know that numerous scientists have run experiments on exactly that? The basic setup is a starer sits a few yards away from a staree. The starer flips a coin that determines whether or not they will stare at the staree. The staree then responds that yes, they are being stared at, or no, they are not. In a total of 33,357 trials of this experiment, the overall success rate was 54.5%, meaning 54.5% of the time, the staree guessed correctly. Left purely to chance, the success rate would have instead been 50%.

Isn't this image great? Photo by Science in HD on Unsplash

 

As you can likely infer from the number of experiments – more than 33,000 of them – the setups have varied. Some people were separated by windows, some were stared at over a one-way video circuit, and some had a person sit in an electromagnetically sealed chamber! Yet despite the scientific proof over and over again showing extrasensory perception is real, skeptics say the experiments are flawed or fraudulent. They have no evidence to their claims but they hold on to their perspective anyway. I ask you, were all 33,357 trials “junk” science? Why is it so hard to believe psychic phenomena is real? It’s only hard to believe if you’re a hardcore materialist because in that worldview, psychic phenomena cannot exist.

People are welcome to believe what they want, but let’s not pretend materialism is the most rational and scientific way of being when science itself shows there’s more to life than what can be sensed with the eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and skin. Let’s also not pretend science and spirituality are silos when in fact, they can support one another, and also some spiritual teachers (like my own) welcome science.

My spiritual teacher said “science is indispensable for human progress.” And also that, “[W]e should probe for solutions to problems through the proper cultivation of science. . . No matter how complicated problems are, we have to evolve the necessary scientific means to meet the challenge.”

Science can be interlaced with spirituality. They don’t have to be separate. They can support one another and spirituality can motivate science. Aren’t people curious about the world? About the mysteries of creation? If we keep beating the drum that materialism is all there is, we miss out on explaining what is currently unexplained. We sell ourselves short and limit ourselves as well as our own understanding. That doesn’t seem very scientific to me.

I dream of a world where we understand materialism is only one way of looking at the world. A world where we realize spirituality can be just as scientific as materialism. A world where we use spirituality to propel scientific innovation and solve the greatest challenges facing us today.

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

Life's Nuances

A few weeks ago, I wrote that I feel sad regarding this pandemic. Now instead of sad, I’m angry. I hate this freaking pandemic. I hate that I haven’t been in the presence of another person without a mask in MONTHS. MONTHS. Yes, I’m going on walks with people, yes, I’m doing a lot of socializing virtually, but I just want to sit in the presence of another person and see their whole face. Is that too much to ask?

Frankly, I understand the appeal of the anti-masker, “plandemic” philosophy. It’s much more appealing to believe the pandemic is a completely made up thing that the government created in an effort to control humanity rather than the alternative. Because the alternative is this – not getting together with friends and family for the holidays, not seeing smiles on the faces of people you love, not touching each other. It SUCKS.

I purposely chose reddish paint swatches. Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

 

So heck yeah I’d like to pretend none of this is real. Why am I sharing this? Because I ascribe to psychotherapist Michael Eigen’s philosophy. He wrote in his book Feeling Matters:

“As long as feelings are second-class citizens, people will be second-class citizens. Experience is an endangered species. An important function of psychotherapy is to make time for experiencing. Psychic taste buds really exist and rarely rest. They feed us each other, gauge states of being, states of spirit. We taste each other's feelings and intentions.”

This is me offering up my state of being, my state of spirit. It’s not fun, it’s not pretty, but it’s real. And if anger remains unexpressed, it can turn into depression, which explains how I’ve felt this week watching holiday movies and realizing I will not have any of those experiences. I will not be at a holiday party. I will not be opening gifts with my siblings. I will not have a big indoor dinner with anyone. At first it depressed me but now I’m mad. I’m giving a big middle finger to this pandemic because it deserves it.

At the same time because life is complicated, I’m also grateful for the pandemic. This weekend I organized a Zoom call with the young people in my yoga and meditation group and we had attendees not only from the U.S., but also Mexico, Brazil, Portugal, Italy, Germany, and Denmark. I’m not sure that would have happened if we weren’t forced to socialize over the internet. Similarly, I’m seeing several of my college friends every week as we gather for a virtual Shabbat service. That also wouldn’t have happened without this pandemic.

Life is weird and complicated. And that means I can feel profoundly pissed off as well as profoundly grateful. Both can be true. I think being a fully functional adult means holding the paradox over and over again. It means allowing opposing things to occupy the same place. It means recognizing nuance. It means seeing shades of gray. And it also means creating space for our feelings.

I dream of a world where we express our emotions. A world where we feed our psychic taste buds. A world where we allow ourselves to feel happy and sad and angry and grateful and whatever else arises. Because ultimately we know life is nuanced.

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

Stepping Toward Unity

 

(If you're seeing something that says "Precondition failed" on the top of the screen, that means the audio I recorded is being blocked. You can go directly to this link to hear the audio.)

I have to admit, I’m relieved the election is over and also that Biden won. I danced with joy and cried watching Kamala Harris give her speech on Saturday night. However, I know other people feel differently. There’s a part of me that still doesn’t understand how people can vote for a man who literally puts children in cages. Or how Kentucky residents reelected Mitch McConnell who laughed, laughed! when his opponent Amy McGrath criticized him for holding up a COVID-19 relief bill.

Are Kentuckians not suffering? Are they all employed and unaffected by the pandemic? Obviously not, so why would they vote for a man who clearly doesn’t care about their wellbeing? The first answer is that people like the familiar even if it’s toxic. It’s why they stay in jobs they hate or with people who are abusive. Change is hard. The second answer goes back to a question a dear friend of mine asks: “What is the boundary of your identity?”

Let us all take a step toward unity. Photo by Henry Xu on Unsplash

There are people in the U.S. who only identify with people who look like them, act like them, think like them. And they vote accordingly. Research supports this. NBC News reported back in 2018 that when intolerant White people fear democracy may benefit marginalized people, they abandon their commitment to democracy.

“[P]eople who said they did not want to live next door to immigrants or to people of another race were more supportive of the idea of military rule, or of a strongman-type leader who could ignore legislatures and election results,” the research found.

It all comes down to fear but also groupism. I want to point out Democrats and progressives do this too – they also identify with people who think like them and act like them. And for those who don’t, they’re demonized and denigrated. They are not a part of the “in” group. No one, myself included, is immune from groupism and it takes commitment to keep expanding the boundary of your identity. However, whenever I think about the world I want to live in, it always hinges on universalism and cooperation. It always hinges on seeing myself in others.

So how do we do that? Some people practice a loving-kindness meditation, or perhaps they follow the work of Dr. Candice Nicole, who seeks to help people become less racist, sexist, classist, etc. As for me, I practice seeing the divine in everyone, extending the feeling of love to everyone. In the spirit of moving our world to a collective, cohesive one, here is a meditation that I created:

Sit in a comfortable position. Close your eyes and inhale, filling your belly. Notice it rise with each inhale and fall with each exhale. Do that twice more, inhaling and exhaling. Think of a person or animal that you love deeply. Notice the feeling in your body when you think of this person or animal. Do you feel warmth in your chest? Is there a smile on your face? Just notice whatever arises as you feel love toward this being.

Looking at this cutie pie puts a smile on my face! Photo by Sharath Kumar Hari on Unsplash

Let the image of this person or animal fade away so all that’s left is the feeling of love in your heart and body. Take three more deep breaths as you let yourself bathe in this feeling of love.

As you let yourself bathe in this feeling of love, recognize this feeling is always with you. It lives in your heart and your body. It doesn’t require the presence of anyone else and is something you can feel at any time if you choose.

Now imagine a person who doesn’t look like you or think like you. Maybe they’re Black or White. Maybe they’re progressive or conservative. Before letting yourself feel scared, or angry, or whatever feeling usually arises, bring to mind the person or animal that you love. The being you conjured previously. Imagine the person or animal you love standing in front of the person you have trouble identifying with, acting as a shield. Notice you can still feel love even in the presence of this other person.

As you let the feeling of love come back into your body, imagine the person you have trouble identifying with shrinking. Shrinking until they’re one inch tall. Once the person is one inch tall, imagine the person or animal you love scooping up that one-inch person and placing them in their heart. That one-inch person has now merged with the being that you love, has dissolved into the being you love. Again, notice the feeling of love in your heart. Be aware that you still love this person or animal even though they now carry the same particles as the one-inch tall person.

Feel your heart soften as you realize we all have the same particles as every created being in this universe. And also that you can extend your feeling of love. Take three more deep breaths into your belly. When you’re ready, open your eyes. As you do, remember you are helping to bring more love into the world. And more love means a better world for us all.

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

The 3.5% Rule

I’m freaked out by the upcoming election and I know I’m not the only one. Democrats are worried Republicans will win. Republicans are worried Democrats will win. We are all watching this election closely. I don’t have any advice about that but what I can say is regardless of what happens, I feel soothed thinking about something I learned recently.

You may already know this, but Harvard University political scientist Erica Chenoweth discovered in order to enact change requires only 3.5% of the population actively participating in protests. She told the BBC in 2019: “Numbers really matter for building power in ways that can really pose a serious challenge or threat to entrenched authorities or occupations.” And furthermore, nonviolent protest seems to be the best way to get that widespread support. Once that 3.5% threshold is reached, success is inevitable.

“There weren’t any campaigns that had failed after they had achieved 3.5% participation during a peak event,” Chenoweth said. Examples of such movements include the People Power movement in Manila that folded the Marcos regime, the Singing Revolution in Estonia in the late 1980s, and the Rose Revolution in Georgia in early 2003.

 I love this picture because it's from London's Gay Pride parade in 1978. It's a good example of how a minority can tip the scales of public opinion. Photo by Ian Sanderson on Unsplash 

For the United States, 3.5% of the population is around 11 million, which is more than the number of people living in New York City. That number sounds like a lot when it’s phrased that way, but relatively speaking, the number isn’t that large. There’s something inspiring for me about knowing it only takes a fraction of the population to actually change things. So often I think change happens when the majority of the population is on board with something and how often does that happen? Chenoweth’s research shows otherwise, although an important caveat is that she thinks when the 3.5% threshold is reached, it’s indicative a larger swathe of the population feels similarly. But still.

As someone who cares a lot about people and the environment, I feel better knowing I don’t have to convince everyone to feel the same way I do. I only have to convince a few people. Just kidding! I don’t think I can convince anyone of anything but I’d like to believe telling the truth has some effect. And a new truth I’ve learned is that pioneers don’t require a majority, or even a large minority, to move society in a different direction. They only require 3.5% of the population.

I want to close here with a quote from my spiritual teacher because it seems especially hopeful right now. He said: “Clouds cannot overcast the sun for a long time. The creatures of darkness never want the expansive exaltation of human society. Even then, humanity shall march ahead. None can arrest the speed of its progress. You be the harbingers; you be the pioneers of this victorious march. See that not a single individual lags behind.”

I dream of a world where the pioneers of social progress march ahead, inspiring others to join their cause. A world where we band together to ensure people and the environment are valued, respected, and cared for. A world where we realize a small minority has always pushed the envelope and made the world better for all of us.

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

The Universe Conspires on Our Behalf

This week I’ve seethed with envy multiple times. That’s nothing new and if you’ve been reading this blog for a while you know I semi-regularly feel envy, especially regarding my career. When I see someone who has what I want, I don’t view it as a sign that I, too, can achieve what they achieved. I know I’m supposed to, but what can I say? I’m a flawed human being.

As I’ve wrestled with the feeling of envy this week, a story kept coming to mind that I shared with numerous friends. Way back in 2005 I studied abroad in London. When I was there, I wanted to travel to Italy but it didn’t happen – I ran out of money and time. For the next seven years, whenever someone talked about their trip to Italy, I burned with envy. I cannot convey how badly I wanted to go, how much that dream percolated within me.

Flashforward to 2012. I was working for a radiology publication and they decided to send me to Vienna, Austria, to cover a conference. I asked them if I could take time off after the conference for travel and they said yes, which meant I was flying to Europe on someone else’s dime. As you likely know, plane tickets to Europe aren’t cheap.

I did it! That's me at the Ponte Vecchio in Florence.

 

Also, because of the timing, a friend of mine who was teaching English in France had off for her spring break. That meant not only could I finally travel to Italy, but also tour it with a friend. That trip? There were hard moments but it was also one of the most grace-filled trips of my life. I saw Michelangelo’s David for free because my friend and I “happened” to visit the museum on International Women’s Day and that meant free admission for us women.

I stayed with friends in Florence who I’d met well after my study abroad experience who showed me around the city, taking me to the best vegetarian restaurants. While in Rome, I checked Facebook and a monk I knew from the States announced, “I’m in Rome.” I messaged him and said “I’m in Rome!” He told me of a group meditation the next day, and how to get there via the train. I walked on the second to last train car and sitting at the end, in a seat facing me, was Shawn, a friend of mine. 

The monk told me I’d see Shawn but I didn’t anticipate running into him on the train. I squealed in delight and Shawn was surprised to say the least. We ended up spending a day together touring the Colosseum, the church containing Michelangelo’s Moses with the horns, and more.

Why am I sharing this story? Because it reminds me the universe is conspiring on our behalf to bring us what we want, but there are more elements involved that just our desire. In the U.S. we sometimes operate with the myth that if we work hard enough, we’ll achieve everything we want. That’s not true for many reasons – including racism and sexism to name a couple – but it’s also not true because we’re not the only ones in charge of making a dream happen. There are other factors at play – like timing and relationships.

My version of this photo is grainy and dark so here's one by Steve Barker on Unsplash 

 

My spiritual teacher says that “whatever happens in this universe of ours is nothing but an expression of Cosmic desire or Cosmic will … when a human desire and His desire coincide, then only does the human desire become fruitful, otherwise it is a sure failure.” 

What that means for me, today, is remembering my dream of being a bestselling author with social cachet will only come true if it’s the will of the Cosmos, and furthermore, these dreams have multiple moving parts. My desire is only a small part of the process. I will keep taking the necessary actions, but in the meantime, I’m offering this dream over to Divine Love. Maybe it will be like my trip to Italy where I’m surprised and delighted by what unfolds. 

I dream of a world where we realize hard work is not the only ingredient required to make a dream come true. A world where we remember there are other factors at play. A world where we understand nothing manifests unless it’s in alignment with Cosmic will and desire. A world where we do our part and surrender the rest.

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

Being Your Own Star

A little more than nine years ago I wrote one of my favorite posts: “Hitching Wagons to Stars.” It wasn’t particularly well read. It didn’t garner numerous comments or shares, but it’s one of my favorites because it speaks to a recurring dynamic in my life: shining.

The phrase “Hitch your wagon to a star” comes from Ralph Waldo Emerson’s essay Civilization. In it he talks about partnering with the natural world to create something new. His quote though has since morphed to mean “Always aspire to do great things,” and then “Try to succeed by forming a relationship with someone who is already successful.”

I’ve frequently taken the latter approach myself, trying to sidle up to someone else who is famous or successful. If we’re using the wagon and star analogy, I usually envision myself as the wagon and never the star. A part of me believes I can’t shine without the presence of someone else. I want someone else’s light to rub off on me. That means I cross my fingers Chris Evans will like an Instagram post where I thank him for playing Captain America, or that Elizabeth Gilbert will thumbs up a blogpost where I mention her. And when they don’t, I feel first sad and then angry because my master plan was thwarted. My master plan being if someone famous notices me, then I’ll finally achieve what I’ve wanted all along: to be a star.

We can all be one of these. Photo by Jess Bailey on Unsplash

I don’t want to be a star in the traditional sense – I can’t act and while I have a nice voice, it’s not Grammy-award winning. I don’t even necessarily want to be an influencer because it sounds exhausting to post something fun and interesting and beautiful on Instagram every day. But I still want to be a star, which for me means writing a bestselling book and having a large swathe of people care about what I have to say. I know numerous people already care about what I have to say, for which I’m grateful, but I want there to be more of them.

These days what I’m coming to understand is I don’t have to rely on someone else to give me what I want. I don’t need to be retweeted or reshared to propel me to stardom, which is perhaps why it hasn’t happened. I’m not doing myself any favors by viewing myself as a wagon instead of a star. I can shine brightly on my own. We all can. We are each of us stars in our own right – some smaller, some larger, but still a star.

I dream of a world where we realize we don’t need someone else in order to shine. A world where we don’t limit ourselves and what we’re capable of. A world where we understand we don’t need to hitch our wagon to a star because we can be our own star.

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

Finite Moments

This past week I canceled a trip to Washington, D.C. I had planned for later this month. Way back in April when I originally intended to go, I figured by the fall surely everything with COVID-19 would be sorted. That we’d shelter in place for a few months and then we’d be able to go about our business as usual.

As you know, that didn’t happen and it’s quite likely the rest of the year will continue in the same fashion it already has. Canceling my trip was somehow the watershed moment for me as I’ve realized how much this year has taken from all of us. I’ve cried so many times this week. I’ve grieved my inability to travel abroad as well as domestically. I’ve grieved how I can’t be closer than 6 feet to my friends without worry. I’ve grieved that plans and parties have all been scuppered. This year has been rough.

It’s not only COVID-19, it’s all of it. It’s Black Lives Matter, it’s climate change, it’s Donald Trump and the circus he’s ringleading. It’s fear of the future as well as fear of the present. I watch television shows and movies filmed before the pandemic and I feel wistful and envious of life before. When we took physical presence for granted. When we shook each other’s hands without a second thought. When we didn’t feel alarmed every time someone coughed. I’m sad. I’m really sad.

I miss sharing moments like these with someone else. Photo by Matt Heaton on Unsplash

 

I posted on Instagram that I wish I could pull a Rip Van Winkle and wake up when the world is different. It’s true, I do. And at the same time as often happens with grief, the world becomes sharper so I’m recognizing what I truly care about. For me, this year is clarifying how much I miss my family and want to spend more time with them. It’s also clear to me if I don’t leave my bubble every three to four months, if I don’t travel somewhere, I lose my freaking mind. And because I can’t actually do that in the way I’d like, I’m dreaming more. I’m using Pinterest for the first time ever creating a board of all the places I want to visit. I haven’t made a list like that since high school.

For other people, the pandemic is providing clarity in terms of their living situations. They’re moving apartments, houses, states, even countries. They’re recognizing they don’t actually like where they live and doing something about it. The same is true with relationships: People are either breaking up or they’re settling down. This pandemic is shaking us all up like a snow globe, which has its pros as well as cons.

Something else this period is highlighting for me is how precious time is. It’s the commodity we can’t have back. I don’t particularly miss restaurants or going to shows. I miss lying on the grass next to someone else and watching the clouds go by, calling out the different shapes they make. I miss reading a book on the couch while my feet are brushing against my sister’s.

As a friend of mine says, this year is refocusing our attention on simple pleasures. Instead of worrying so much about achieving, progressing, and doing, in the U.S. anyway we’re slowing down, reconnecting with family and friends, and remembering what truly matters. In case it wasn’t clear, what truly matters is you.

I dream of a world where we remember what’s most important. A world where we value our relationships and connections over material goods. A world where we cherish the moments we have with one another as we recognize how finite they truly are.

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

What is Real?

I find it telling that when Trump announced he has COVID-19, many people assumed he was lying. I realize that’s because he’s a compulsive liar, but I think it also speaks to the larger milieu we find ourselves in – we don’t know what’s true anymore. And what’s so chilling is the inability to distinguish truth from untruth is by design as I learned recently from watching the documentary/drama The Social Dilemma. I’m going to quote from the film so if you’d rather be surprised, stop reading here.

An idea I hadn’t considered before watching The Social Dilemma is people are making money off of disinformation not only on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and YouTube, but also the supposed repository of truth, Google. If you google “climate change,” you’ll get different answers depending on where you live and what you searched for previously. That’s scary. It means we don’t have shared reality with one another anymore, as we’ve seen, and that creates division. There are “sheeple” and “idiots” and “people who haven’t done their own research.” There are people who’ve been “red pilled” and are “still living in the matrix.” How did we get here?

The truth is boring and doesn’t encourage engagement, whether that’s clicks or likes or comments or reshares. Misinformation spreads about six times faster on Twitter than the truth, according to a study from MIT. If Twitter cares about increasing the number of users, of getting more eyeballs to view an ad, what incentive does it have for shutting down fake news? It doesn’t. The same is true of Facebook and also YouTube. What’s even scarier is it’s easy to get brainwashed on YouTube. If you watch one conspiracy video, YouTube will recommend another and then another and then another until you’re convinced that the world really is flat. That’s exactly what happened to basketball player Kyrie Irving. He publicly said the Earth was flat and then later apologized, offering this explanation: “You click a YouTube link and it's like how deep does the rabbit hole go? You start telling all your friends, 'Did you see that? Watch this video.'”

The Earth, as seen from space. Photo by NASA on Unsplash

We don’t know what’s true because there’s so much disinformation flying around and it’s easy to fall for fake news. I know I have. For instance, when the pandemic first hit, I saw a picture floating around saying dolphins returned to the Venice canals and repeated that to a friend. However, it wasn’t true – the picture came from the coast of Sardinia. Yes, sharing that fake news didn’t hurt anyone, but we’re not always so lucky. Early investor in Facebook Roger McNamee said, “If you want to control the population of a country, there’s never been a more effective tool than Facebook.”

Y’all. That’s scary. And we’ve seen this already in the U.S. with the role Facebook played in the 2016 elections. It also happened in Myanmar with the ethnic cleansing of the Rohingya Muslims. The U.N. said Facebook had a "determining role" in whipping up anger against the minority group.

Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, Instagram, all of it, are directly affecting our lives: how we think, how we vote, and also how we behave. That’s a lot of power in the hands of companies that are unregulated. Clearly the tech giants need government oversight but also, we can mitigate some of the effects by turning off all notifications on our phones so that we’re not constantly checking them. A former YouTube employee also said don’t watch YouTube’s recommendations and instead search for and choose videos yourself.

Turn off notifications on these babies. Photo by dole777 on Unsplash

Lastly, I think something needs to be said about the mind itself. Many spiritual people think they know “the truth” because they meditate, they’re tapping into their intuition, they’re aligned with the source of all knowledge. According to my spiritual philosophy, there is such a thing as immutable truth, as absolute truth. That “thing,” or entity really, is Brahma, which is a combination of the consciousness that pervades the universe as well as the creative force that pervades the universe. Everything else is a relative truth.

What is often missing among spiritual people is the understanding the mind has layers, or filters. This post is already quite long so I won’t go into it today but even without launching into an in-depth explanation this makes sense. We filter everything we hear, everything we learn through the lens of our perception. We compare it with what we’ve heard before, what we’ve been exposed to, what we’ve experienced in the past. All of which is to say we’re not imbibing a perfect, unadulterated truth.

The best I think any of us can do right now is practice some humility and recognize we may not actually know everything, that our sources are flawed, and we don’t know the absolute truth. The best any of us can do right now is to cultivate healthy doubt and skepticism while also recognizing some things are truer than others: for instance, the Earth is round.

I dream of a world where we realize lies spread faster than the truth. A world where we realize the truth is relative and can change depending on time and space. A world where we leave room for being wrong while also recognizing there is such a thing as consensus reality. A world where we seek to find that consensus and remember some companies profit off of sowing disinformation.

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

Maintaining Love in Punishment

I have to admit I’m feeling rather spiteful and vindictive. I’m pissed off at the hypocrisy of Mitch McConnell and his ilk regarding replacing Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s justice seat. I’m livid Breonna Taylor’s murderers – Brett Hankison, Myles Cosgrove, and Jonathan Mattingly – were not punished sufficiently for their crimes. I’m angry and frankly scared that Donald Trump will refuse to cede power if he’s voted out. Some vigilante justice sounds mighty appealing right now. However, I also remind myself what my spiritual philosophy says about justice.

First off, it’s a law of nature that for every action there’s an equal and opposite reaction. Actions have consequences, even if they’re not expressed right away. For instance, my spiritual teacher was on a walk with someone when they passed by the house of a Brahmin who just died. My spiritual teacher told his companion:

“Though this man was a prominent member of the Brahmin community, he was not a pious man as befits a Brahmin. In fact, he was a sinful and greedy man who never reflected on his misdeeds or repented for them. He was full of caste vanity and arrogance. Throughout his life he treated the lower castes with scorn. What will be his reward for his pride and vanity? He will be reborn as a dog. If he wanders into a gathering of Brahmins, will they not treat him as an untouchable and drive him away, just as he did to others in this life?”

This picture felt like a good mix of imprisonment but also love. Photo by insung yoon on Unsplash 

 

Actions have consequences, for better or for worse. What I notice in telling this story is some glee. My response is, “Good. You got what you deserved.” But sharing that I also feel a pinprick of discomfort because it’s mean-minded. I want to see people punished for their crimes but my spiritual teacher also says we don’t have the right to punish someone we do not love, and furthermore, the amount of punishment meted out must not exceed the amount of love we feel. Yikes. Why is that?

If life is about love, about seeing the divine in everyone, it makes sense that all actions are to be taken with that spirit. If I punish someone out of spite, it creates a feeling of vindictiveness. My mind degrades and the person punished also likely feels resentment. Instead, punishment should be corrective in nature. My spiritual teacher also says, “If a system of corrective measures is introduced, criminals, whether they were deeply involved in the crime or not, will have no reason to complain against anyone. Although there may be flaws in the judgment, it will not harm them in any way. A person who is definitely guilty will benefit from a system of corrective measures, and even a person who is not guilty will benefit from such a system.”

I know I’m being challenged right now to maintain my feelings of love, but what softens my heart is thinking power-hungry people are sick. Those who don’t care one iota about anyone other than themselves are mentally ill. Those who seek to divide others, to promote inferiority and superiority are unwell. As a society, we must take corrective measures – I’m not suggesting we throw our hands up in the air and excuse anyone’s behavior – but can we continue to see God in everyone, especially people we don’t like? That’s the practice anyway.

I dream of a world where we realize the universe will restore balance without any input from us. A world where we recognize actions have consequences for better or for worse. A world where we try to correct others instead of punishing them. A world where we see God in everyone, even people we want to punish.

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

Celebrating as We Grieve

I feel a little discombobulated. On the one hand, it’s Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and a time for celebrating. I am celebrating – I’m celebrating that the sky has cleared, I can see the sun again. I’m grateful for my friends, family, and community. I’m taken aback but also profoundly grateful that my business is thriving. There’s a lot to be grateful for.

On the other hand, I’m deeply troubled by what’s happening in the world: the rise in fascism, environmental catastrophes, and oh yeah, a global pandemic, which has not only killed numerous people, but has also led to unemployment and food insecurity. There’s a lot to be concerned about.

I’m reminded here this is always how life has been. Joy is frequently mixed with sorrow and we see that even in Rosh Hashanah services. There’s a part called the Mourner’s Kaddish where the entire congregation holds space for those who have lost loved ones during the past year. People call out the names of loved ones who have died so everyone can bear witness to their grief.

There can be beauty even amidst desolation. Photo by Nikola Johnny Mirkovic on Unsplash

As someone who is prone to black and white thinking, I presume my emotions will operate the same way: I’ll feel ecstatically joyful without any hint of sorrow. But again, that’s not true. This year as all of us are bombarded with one terrible piece of news after another, I continue to pursue joy and cling to it like a buoy in the sea.

I’m reminded here of a poem by Jack Gilbert titled “A Brief For The Defense” that seems especially relevant:

Sorrow everywhere. Slaughter everywhere. If babies
are not starving someplace, they are starving
somewhere else. With flies in their nostrils.
But we enjoy our lives because that's what God wants.
Otherwise the mornings before summer dawn would not
be made so fine. The Bengal tiger would not
be fashioned so miraculously well. The poor women
at the fountain are laughing together between
the suffering they have known and the awfulness
in their future, smiling and laughing while somebody
in the village is very sick. There is laughter
every day in the terrible streets of Calcutta,
and the women laugh in the cages of Bombay.
If we deny our happiness, resist our satisfaction,
we lessen the importance of their deprivation.
We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure,
but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have
the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless
furnace of this world. To make injustice the only
measure of our attention is to praise the Devil.
If the locomotive of the Lord runs us down,
we should give thanks that the end had magnitude.
We must admit there will be music despite everything.
We stand at the prow again of a small ship
anchored late at night in the tiny port
looking over to the sleeping island: the waterfront
is three shuttered cafés and one naked light burning.
To hear the faint sound of oars in the silence as a rowboat
comes slowly out and then goes back is truly worth
all the years of sorrow that are to come.

As we are all grappling with all the injustice in the world, all the destruction, all the grief, I encourage you to also have the stubbornness to accept your gladness. To find joy when and where you can because the world isn’t one way or another – it’s both, it’s all of it, it’s everything. I’m not advocating spiritual bypassing or whitewashing the horrors in the world. No. Instead I’m advocating feeling your feelings, recognizing it’s true life can be terrible, but also recognizing it’s true that there are babies laughing, flowers blooming, and lovers dancing. That life can also be joyful even in the most horrendous of circumstances. Life, and people, are complicated like that.

I dream of a world where we embrace delight. A world where we recognize joy can be mixed with sorrow. A world where we find the beauty in the world as a tonic to our hearts, reminding us there’s more to life than tragedy. A world where we celebrate as we grieve.

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

Spirit is Here, Too

When I’m going through a tough time, or the world around me is challenging like it is now, I don’t derive comfort from hearing, “This, too, shall pass.” I know some people do and I’m glad, but for me, when I hear, “This, too, shall pass” my response is, “When? Can you give me a timeframe? An estimate even?” But no one really knows, except for some stellar psychics, but I’ve never met any of those. If you have, can you give them my number? I have some questions.

Instead, what comes to mind right now is a quote that is misattributed to Winston Churchill: “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” Because honestly, what other choice is there? When life is grim, when smoke is so thick you can’t see across the street, when the sun is blocked from view and you think you’re on another planet the sky is so orange, what do you do? You keep putting one foot in front of the other over and over again until things change. And the only way I know how to do that is to borrow from another cliché prevalent in 12-step communities: one day at a time.

Not a fan of the smoke, but this is also an expression of Spirit. Photo by chuttersnap on Unsplash

 

I read an article in the Atlantic recently by Molly Jong-Fast that sums up this principle beautifully. She wrote:

Look, I’m as obsessed with “getting back to normal” as everyone else is, but I try not to worry about when that will be possible. I’ll lose it if I think in terms of hanging on until there’s a vaccine. Some people may find it helpful to tell themselves, It’s not forever. It’s just a few months. In my experience, though, when there’s no firm deadline for the end of an ordeal—and no one really knows when the pandemic will end—it’s better to focus on getting through the day. Life isn’t lived two weeks from now, or two months from now. Life exists in the moment and nowhere else.

Life exists in the moment and nowhere else. That means I can’t think about when it will rain, when I can open my windows again, when I can step outside without an n99 mask designed to filter out smoke. Instead I can focus on the moment, like the carrot I’m munching on while I type this, or my flowers swaying in the breeze.

I can also get quiet and touch the inner calm, the inner strength that lies within me and within everyone. The point of my spiritual practice is not to run away from the world, to search for a better, happier place, but instead to recognize the divinity present here, now. My spiritual practice affirms over and over again that I am an expression of an infinite, loving consciousness. That this body, this mind, this world is an expression of Spirit both beautiful and terrible.

My spiritual teacher says “God” is an acronym that stands for Generator, Operator, and Destroyer. That means God is not only the beauty in the world but also the ugly. And the reality is the cycle of life is a never-ending rhythm of creation, operation, and destruction. I don’t like it, I don’t wish for it, I still act responsibly with regards to my life and the lives of others, but can I have some perspective? Can I remember that God is here, too, in this hell? That’s the work anyway.

I dream of a world where we keep going in the most hellacious of circumstances. A world where we continue to take each day as it comes doing the next right action and then the next. A world where we remember God is not only the wonderful, but the terrible. A world where we realize that in the horrible, Spirit is there, too.

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

Boundary Setting Happens in Degrees

I keep thinking about boundaries both because of what’s happening in my personal life and also in the world.

This week a woman told me I need better boundaries. Even thinking about her comment I notice anger rising up in me because I want to say, “Screw you lady! You have NO IDEA how much work I’ve done around boundaries!” which is true. I’ve come a long way. It’s not that I was ever a doormat, but it’s fair to say I wasn’t far removed from one. I often said “yes” when I wanted to say “no” because it was easier to acquiesce to someone else than stand up for myself. It was easier to sacrifice my needs and wants to keep the peace.

However, there comes a point where if your mouth doesn’t say no, your body will. Maybe you’ll get sick and that will give you an excuse to skip the party you originally said you’d attend. Or you could develop a more serious health condition. That’s the whole premise of the book When the Body Says No by Dr. Gabor Maté. He makes the case that stress and emotions play a role in diseases such as arthritis, cancer, diabetes, heart disease, irritable bowel syndrome, and multiple sclerosis. I certainly found his premise to be true with me. Because I overextended myself, my body eventually said, “Nope. Can’t do it anymore!” These days I’m more cautious with how I spend my energy.

Am I still learning about boundaries? Yes. Do I still regularly give more of myself than is wise for my body? Yes. But that’s OK because boundaries happen in degrees. They are learned and practiced – they’re not a switch that get turned on or off. They’re more like a faucet that can run at full power or at a trickle.

Boundaries can run at a trickle or full blast. Photo by Mukesh Sharma on Unsplash

That reminder about boundaries operating in degrees seems relevant right now as the U.S. celebrates Labor Day. The holiday came about because in the late 1800s, the average person worked 12-hour days, seven days a week. Not only adults, but children as young as 5 worked in mills, factories, and mines. On top of that, working conditions were not safe, there was insufficient access to fresh air, and limited sanitary facilities and breaks. People started protesting and were killed by the police during those protests, but eventually the unions were successful and working conditions changed.

We have a lot to be grateful for this Labor Day, and at the same time, there’s still room for improvement. For instance, last year the news reported Amazon workers were peeing in bottles because they were scared to take bathroom breaks. And they’re not the only one: Tyson Foods workers admitted to being denied bathroom breaks or mocked for even asking, according to an Oxfam report. The result? Many Tyson workers wore adult diapers to work.

I don’t mention these two examples purely to horrify you but rather to ask how much do you value your own life and the lives of others? Enough to change your shopping habits? I have. For the past few years, I’ve boycotted Amazon – not perfectly because there are some things only Amazon sells, but where possible I spend my money elsewhere. And look, I know they’re super convenient, but every little bit helps – canceling a Prime membership, looking further afield for purchases – it all adds up. What would our world look like if collectively we said, “No, it’s not OK to treat people like robots, to risk their lives, and deny them dignity”? If history is any indication, not only can it be done, but it also makes life better for everyone, as evidenced by those of us in the U.S. celebrating a three-day weekend.

I dream of a world where we set and maintain boundaries. A world where we understand the importance of saying no. A world where we realize boundary setting happens in degrees. A world where we celebrate what we’ve accomplished and recognize we also may have more room to grow.

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

The Price of Admission

Lately I’ve been thinking about fairness, or rather its opposite. How it’s not fair that people we love die. Or that fascist leaders are calling the shots. Or that the world literally and figuratively burns so a few companies can increase their profits. It’s not fair.

If you’re anything like me, in response to, “It’s not fair,” someone invariably says, “Life isn’t fair,” as if that makes the situation better. The inherent message behind “life isn’t fair” is “deal with it.” But what if I don’t want to deal with it? What if I don’t want to toughen up and accept the unfairness of it all? What if I’d rather curl into a ball and whimper like a wounded animal? Can I do that instead?

This year has been absolutely gut-wrenching for numerous reasons. NUMEROUS. I’m over this year. I want something new, and yet wanting isn’t enough. As they say, faith without works is dead. I’ve also heard that pain is the price of admission into a new life. Ouch. Say it ain’t so, but it is.

Add  Our tickets are metaphorical. Photo by Mak on Unsplash 

When I think about creating something new – art, a business, a life even – there’s often an element of pain, or at least hardship. Rarely is the creation process smooth sailing from start to finish. There are usually obstacles to overcome, hurdles to clear. Maybe this period we’re in, maybe this year, is the admission price we’re paying for a new way of life.

It seems to me humanity is being forced to change on numerous fronts. It’s become clear we cannot maintain the status quo because doing so equals death and destruction. Change isn’t easy, and frankly sometimes it sucks, but I have to believe everything we’re enduring is leading to something better. It’s the only way I can keep going, to continue putting one foot in front of the other. I’m also choosing to believe my spiritual teacher who said, “[A] bright future awaits you. Your future is glorious, your future is luminous, your future is effulgent.”

He describes himself as an incorrigible optimist and also said, “Human civilization now faces the final moment of a critical juncture. The dawn of a glorious new era is on the one side, and the worn-out skeleton of the past on the other. Humanity has to adopt either one or the other. You are the spiritual soldiers; you are the worshippers of life divine. Hence, I call upon you to adorn this crimson dawn deluged with glorious light. Victory is surely yours.”

We’re not on the other side of the fight yet. The world remains unfair, but slowly, in certain places, we’re moving in that direction. For instance, in Portland companies must pay a 10% tax surcharge if their CEO earns 100 to 250 times more than the median-paid worker. That number jumps to 25% if the CEO makes 250 times more than the median-paid worker. The law only applies to Portland, but other places like San Francisco are considering similar laws. Laws like these are a start and show me if we keep striving for a fairer society eventually it will happen.

I dream of a world that’s fair and just. A world that considers what’s in the best interest for the planet as a whole. A world where we realize the impact of our actions and adjust accordingly. A world where we understand sometimes pain is the price of admission into a new life.

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

What a Difference a Day Makes

I can’t speak for everywhere, but life in the Bay Area is pretty apocalyptic right now. On top of the pandemic, we also have a heatwave, rolling power outages, and 367 wildfires. Things are pretty bleak. However, instead of feeling constantly scared and depressed, I notice my mood vacillates. On Saturday, air quality improved to moderate as opposed to unhealthy. I opened my windows for the first time in days and let a cool breeze circulate inside my apartment. The inside temperature dropped from 86 degrees to a more manageable 78.

One of the things that prompted the most anxiety is wondering what I would do in the event of an evacuation. I don’t have a car. Would I have to hitch a ride with one of my neighbors? And where would I go? If I have to evacuate, all my local friends will likely have to evacuate as well. In that case, where would I stay? I mentioned all this to a friend of mine and he promised if we have to evacuate, he will drive over and pick me up. Hearing that, I felt better.

What does this picture have to do with anything? Nothing. It's pretty. Photo by daniel plan on Unsplash

I mention all this because seeing my mood oscillate reminds me not only are emotions like that, but also life in general. Change can happen rapidly. A day can make a huge difference. Even in regards to these wildfires, a storm is headed our way, and if it’s a wet one instead of a dry one, the fires will diminish. I’ve been singing a rain song my spiritual teacher provided multiple times a day to encourage rain, but only time will tell if it helped.

However, even if it doesn’t rain soon, it will rain eventually. And the firefighters will eventually extinguish the blazes. My hope of course is sooner rather than later but regardless, a lot can happen in a day, in an hour, in an instant. Nothing remains static.

According to my spiritual philosophy, the Sanskrit word for the universe is jagat, and jagat comes from the root verb meaning “to move.” My spiritual teacher says, “Here in the universe, nothing is stationary, nothing is fixed. Everything moves; that’s why this universe is called jagat. Movement is its dharma; movement is its innate characteristic.”

Nothing is permanent. Nothing lasts forever. And between one day and the next, a lot can happen for better or for worse. When I’m having a down day, when I smell smoke drifting in from outside, when I wipe a layer of ash off my mailbox, I have to remind myself not only that this, too, shall pass, but also that life can improve at any moment. Sometimes hope is the only thing that can keep us going. It’s my wish that we all find some hope to hold onto while we traverse the catastrophes we’re enduring.

I dream of a world where we realize a lot can happen in an instant, an hour, a day. A world where we remember the universe is always moving and nothing lasts forever. A world where we hold on to hope for a better future because we remember what a difference a day can make.

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