The Center of the Universe

The other day I spoke with a friend on the telephone and in the background her kid started to fuss. She commented he does that sometimes when she's not interacting with him. I retorted, "I get it. I want to be the center of someone's universe too." She laughed and said, "So do I. It will have to be higher power."

Hearing her say that jolted my system, like someone flinging open the curtains of a darkened room to let the sun shine in. She so clearly expressed a concept I struggle with, a perspective I'm trying to hold.

My spiritual teacher categorizes devotees in three ways. The third class of devotees thinks God belongs to everybody, and because the person is also included within the scope of "everybody," God belongs to them also. The second-class devotee will say, “No, no, no. That is not the correct psychic approach. You, God, belong to me, and because You belong to me, You belong to all. That is, the first thing is You belong to me. And the second thing, because You belong to me, is You belong to others also.” The first-class devotee says, “No, no, no, that’s not the correct approach. You belong to me and You belong to me only -- not to others. In this realm of relationship I do not allow any third person to come. You are one hundred percent mine.”

I'm working on believing I'm the center of God's universe. Photo by Rodion Kutsaev on Unsplash

He encourages everyone to be a first-class devotee, to develop a personal relationship with a higher power because love is what draws us closer to the divine, and it's hard to love something impersonal. I can honestly say I'm not a first-class devotee. I'm in between a second- and third-class devotee. I take the viewpoint that I'm sharing my higher power with others. I'm not the center of anyone's universe; I'm just a cog in a wheel.

My friend's comment reminds me I could change my perspective. I could operate as if I'm the most important, most special, most beloved being in the universe. Not in an entitled way. Not in a selfish, no-one-else-exists way. I'm not suggesting that I get huffy every time things don't go according to my plan. Instead, I'm wondering if I could take the perspective of an infant and live in such a way that I know I'm being cared for, that I have the undivided attention of a loving parent.

It's hard for me to articulate what I'm trying to convey here because it's an internal mind-shift. The reason I care so much about this topic is because I have insecure attachment. That means I'm used to the idea that sometimes an attachment figure -- a parent, a partner, a friend -- with be there for me and sometimes they won't. Historically, I don't have the feeling of security, of constancy. I'm used to sharing. My spiritual teacher is instead saying, "No. You're not sharing. This is the securest of secure. You and God are in your own little love bubble," so to speak.

If I can maintain that perspective that means I'll welcome in more ease, more peace, and more comfort in my life. It means during turbulent times I can relax because I know I won't be abandoned, and furthermore, there's a power greater than me holding me tight, soothing me, letting me know nothing is more important than making sure I'm OK.

I dream of a world where we realize we are each at the center of the universe for a power greater than ourselves. A world where we find ease and comfort knowing that no matter what happens, there is a loving parent with us all along, guiding us, soothing us, looking out for us, attending to all our needs.

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

How to Be Fearless

Fear is an interesting emotion. In our society, we treat it like a plague – something to cure, attack, avoid. We say, “Screw fear,” or, “Don't let fear get in the way.” Oftentimes our message about fear is simpler: “Don't be scared,” as if telling someone to stop being scared could stop them.

In my own relationship with fear, I've also treated it like an annoying inconvenience, or an enemy to defeat. For many years I used food to anesthetize myself. Or I escaped into fantasy, books, movies, television. When I realized none of those things would fix my fear, I started using other methods like affirmations, tapping, visualization, etc. Basically, whatever I could do to not feel afraid, I did. And every time I realized fear hadn't left, I felt discouraged, disappointed, as if I'd failed. As if fear had won and thus I'd lost.

We must enter the cave we fear. Photo by Joshua Sortino on Unsplash. 

The other week, intense fear reared its head in response to the fires north of me. I could see smoke drifting into San Francisco and some days it wafted into Oakland as well, creating a preternatural calm, a sun so hazy and orange I could look at it directly. Fear came up for many reasons, one of them an acute sense of powerlessness. I bought a mask to protect my lungs from the smoke, but I couldn't control whether the air remained smoky.

In my therapy session, I noticed I wanted my therapist to fix and solve my fear. I wanted him to take it away from me, to make it better. Instead he suggested I sit with it. I'm not sure what happened in the session because days prior I tried the same thing and just couldn't, but during the session I finally stayed still. I let fear wash over me saying, “It's OK. It's OK that you feel afraid. It makes sense. It's understandable.” For two days, fear erupted from me like a volcano, not due to any thoughts in particular, rather the feeling of fear itself. My heart palpitated, my breathing quickened. I tried all my usual tricks to no avail until I again said, “OK. I'm here with you. I won't leave you alone with your fear.” And then at group meditation last week I said to my fearful part, “Not only is it OK that you're here, but also, I love you,” and that brought on the tears.

All every part of me wants is love and presence. I can't ditch fear and anxiety. As a human being I will inevitably feel scared and anxious again, but since I said, “I love you” to my fearful part, I feel fearless. Not because I'm without fear, but rather because I know when fear pops up again, I'll allow it, I'll sit with it, and I'll say I love you. And then the fear will pass like a storm cloud.

My spiritual teacher says if a person takes shelter in the divine, one need not be afraid of anything. He says, “[F]ear requires two entities for its expression – the one who fears and the cause of fear. Where there is only One entity, because there can be no cause, fear cannot exist.”

In the past, I would have taken that to mean I'm not meditating enough because I still have fears. For today at least, I'm recognizing by loving my fearful self, I am taking shelter in the Cosmic Consciousness. I'm recognizing this fear, too, is a part of me, a part of God, and the way to dissolve fear is by showering it with love.

I dream of a world where we treat our fearful selves with love. A world where we recognize we are not at war with fear, but rather fear is like a small child, begging for affection. A world where we embrace our fearful parts, give it as much love as possible, and in that way become fearless.

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

Love Means Saying No

When I think “love,” I think soft, gentle, and kind. I also think “permissive.” If I love someone, I want them to have everything they desire. But that's not real love. Real love also means saying “no.”

I think we all know this. We talk about it often in the context of parents and children. Children frequently want things that aren't good for them, like to eat toxic paint, and the parent has to put his or her foot down. In that case, it's easy to understand saying “no” is ultimately for the child's best interest. But what about when it comes to ourselves? Can we tell ourselves “no” when a part of us wants to say “yes?”

Love requires boundaries.

Over the years, I've come to see I have many internal parts or selves. I have multiple inner children, an inner teenager, a loving parent, a witnessing entity. There are so many internal “me's” I could easily fill up a minivan. That means sometimes I'll feel conflicted because one part of me wants something and another part does not. What to do in that situation? Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, I have to be a parent to myself as well. I have to say no to myself just as I would to an external child.

It's so hard though. I love myself and want myself to have everything I desire. I want to say “yes” unequivocally. It feels good to say yes. Especially saying yes to my inner child. Somehow it's easier for me to say “no” to my adult than it is to say “no” to my inner child. But that's not love. Yes, love is soft, gentle, and kind, but it's also tough, firm, and at times harsh. My spiritual teacher talks about this. He says, “Sometimes I appear harsh to some. But that is for love. If I were indifferent, there would be no need for scolding or punishment.” He also says, “Punishment alone, without love, is not good. Love and punishment should go together, and the degree of punishment should never exceed the degree of love.”

Inherent in his statement is the notion love and punishment go hand in hand. To only shower a being with love and affection, to only say yes, to give in to everything the person wants, is not love. In fact, it's damaging, as anyone who's read or seen Charlie and the Chocolate Factory knows. One of the characters, Veruca Salt, gets everything she ever wants, has never heard the word “no” in her life. In the movie, Veruca wants her father to buy her one of Wonka's golden egg-laying geese. After Wonka refuses, Veruca goes on a tirade by trashing the room and disturbing the Oompa Loompas' work in the process. She climbs onto an Eggdicator and is dropped down into the furnace holding room after being rejected as a "bad egg" by the machine. A reminder for us all that nothing good comes from being spoiled. Nothing good comes from always saying “yes.”

I dream of a world where we realize the most loving thing we can do for ourselves sometimes is to say “no,” even if a part of us wants to say “yes.” A world where we recognize love is better with boundaries. A world where we remember love is soft and gentle, but it's also tough and strong.

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

We are What We Seek

It's been a rough week for my health condition. What that means is this week I've been more bothered by noise and other stimuli. I've found myself fantasizing about going somewhere else. Some place quiet, removed from people, and idyllic in every way. However, as I've learned over and over again, such a place does not exist. Every time I go somewhere I think will be quiet and peaceful, during the period I'm there, unplanned construction takes place, or the refrigerator is exceedingly loud, or there's a fluke something or other. In short, there is no escape.

When I ask myself what's up with that, I realize what's underneath my desire to go someplace different is I don't want to engage. I don't want to stand up for myself with a noisy neighbor, I don't want to assert my boundaries, I don't want any conflict. If I dig even further, really I want someone else to do those things for me. I want someone else to take care of me and my needs. I want someone else to be the hero, to stand up for me, to put rude people in their place, so I can continue being a soft gooey glob. It should be no surprise then that I surround myself with strong personalities.

We are what we seek. 

My higher power though wants me to be a whole and complete person and doesn't let me get away with that sort of thing. I've come to believe that all the trials I've been put through regarding boundaries have been so I can do those things for myself. I've come to believe my higher power wants me to become my own hero, to stand up for myself, and to put rude people in their place so I can continue being a soft gooey glob inside.

I'm crying as I type that because I know it to be true. I know I've been seeking other people to do the things that I must learn to do for myself. I've been looking externally when I could have been looking internally. This week it became clear to me, I am the person I seek. I'm not sure I can express the magnitude of that realization for me. To realize all the things I've wanted someone else to do for me, I can do for myself. It has been deeply empowering and also very sweet to realize I am the person I've been looking for.

There are two quotes from my spiritual teacher that come to mind as pertinent for this topic. The first is, “The sweetest part of God's play is that He is hidden in everyone and everyone is searching for Him.” The second is, “One who looks for Shiva in the external world, ignoring the Shiva of the internal world, is like one who throws away the rice that is in one's hand and wanders from door to door in search of one's livelihood.”

I have been the person throwing away the rice in my hand and then asking why I'm hungry. I've been hungry because I've been disowning parts of myself, important parts that are crucial for my existence. And interestingly, the universe will keep putting me in situations that require me to become what I'm looking for until I understand the lesson. Just like I don't have to go to India to find God, I don't have to go to someone else to find many of the things I seek because they already exist inside of me.

I dream of a world where we realize we are what we seek. A world where we turn internally first to find what we're looking for. A world where we understand the universe is working in tandem with us to ensure we become the best version of ourselves.

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