I’m recycling this post from five years ago so no, I didn’t interview for a job recently – I still have my own business – but the message about some things not making sense is still valid.
I interviewed for a job recently that sounded perfect for me. When I told my friends about the position, they all laughed because it seemed like such a great fit. It turns out it wasn’t because the company decided not to proceed with my application. It stings and also doesn’t make much sense to me.
I started puzzling why they didn’t hire me, trying to comprehend their reasoning. My therapist told me, “Some things don’t make sense, and sometimes suffering happens.” Ouch. Can that not be true? Thanks. It’s interesting to notice how much I don’t accept this perspective. I want a reason for everything. I want to know why. Why did a man try to run over pedestrians because he thought they were Muslims? Why did someone open fire on a synagogue during a Passover service? Why did a man shoot elementary school students?
Some things you can’t figure out. Photo by Daniele Levis Pelusi on Unsplash
There are lots of possible answers – people are sick, they’re hurting, etc. – but there are many sick and hurting people who don’t kill others. Can I allow myself to instead grieve over the fact I don’t understand why people act this way? My adult self can rationalize ad nauseam, but the young part of me doesn’t get it. Doesn’t understand why a job that seemed so perfect slid away, doesn’t understand why people disappear, and certainly doesn’t understand why people are cruel.
I think part of this is because I prefer to live in denial, or an idealistic fantasy. I mean, I know bad things happen, but I like to rush by them as quickly as I can, like walking past foul-smelling garbage. It’s hard for me to accept the harshness of life.
In my spiritual tradition, we say the word “God” is an acronym. It stands for Generator, Operator, and Destroyer. I can totally get behind the generator and operator part. I’m all about creation and maintenance. The destroyer, though? Surely that’s not God, is it? It is. Black holes are God and death is God and decay is God. It’s painful for me to admit that, I don’t want it to be true, but it’s true nonetheless. This is the cycle of life, a never-ending rhythm of creation, operation, and destruction.
My spiritual teacher says, “An indivisible cosmic rhythm which started from beginningless time marches ahead to infinity. No creature can remain away from this internal divine flow.” He also says that which is beyond the scope of causality is liilá. What we don’t understand, what we can’t explain, is called liilá. I could spend my life trying to figure out things I’ll never have an answer for, or I can accept that some things just don’t make sense.
I dream of a world where we realize we won’t understand everything. A world where we allow ourselves the time and space to grieve the senseless and the tragic. A world where we understand that, too, is God, and that, too, is a part of life. A world where we recognize we are all a part of a universal rhythm.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I had a poignant experience on Wednesday. First, some context. I’m a Network Spinal Analysis practice member. It’s a technique that relieves tension from the spinal cord with the gentlest of touches. According to Network Spinal Analysis Founder Dr. Donny Epstein, there are 12 stages of healing. These aren’t linear or hierarchical, they’re more like seasons.
Stage one is suffering. It’s an awareness that something is wrong and it’s time to connect with the reality of what is. It’s being with the body to bring ease and compassion to the self. Stage 12 is about community. It’s recognizing that our wholeness comes from bringing our gifts of individuality into the collective. It’s also about receiving gifts from others so there’s a loop of giving and receiving.
On Wednesday, I had a call with other Network Spinal Analysis practice members, and we did breathing exercises relevant to our respective stages. While I did the stage one exercise, the rest did stage 12. Oof. That’s so hard because I take service seriously. It’s one of the core tenets of my spiritual tradition and I always feel pressure to do more and/or that I’m not doing enough.
Sometimes you need to be held by the collective. Photo by Becca Tapert on Unsplash
And in these times where I know we are the “magic wands,” that change happens because we make it happen, my desire to contribute is immense. It feels like if I’m not doing something, I’m letting the fascists win. But, well, my body needs a break. It’s made that very clear. The breathing call showed me viscerally that I don’t always have to be “on” or giving my gifts. I don’t have to always contribute to society because other people are giving their gifts. Other people are fighting the good fight and when I’m ready, I’ll re-enter the metaphorical arena and give someone else a break.
This is how the collective works. We hold one another as we cycle through our various rhythms.
My spiritual teacher says, “The movement of human beings in this universe is not movement for movementʼs sake, but is comparable to a joyous pilgrimage …. Suppose one among them is attacked by cholera, do the rest go on their way, leaving him behind? No, they cannot. Rather, they break their journey at the place for a day or two, relieve him from the disease, and help him to acquire strength in his legs. Or, they start out anew, carrying him on their shoulders. If anyone runs short of her subsistence, others give her their own. Together, they share everything with all. Together, they stream ahead, singing their leading chorus.”
Later, he says it’s when people “attain a deep psychic affinity while traveling together [this is what] helps them solve all the problems in their individual and social lives.” It’s humbling to admit that sometimes I’m the person who has cholera, metaphorically, but nonetheless, it’s true. And instead of beating myself up about it, I can relax and remember I’m a pilgrim on a pilgrimage and there’s a collective that’s holding me and holding all of us.
I dream of a world where we realize we all cycle through periods of rest and contribution. A world where we give when we can and let ourselves receive when we need. A world where we trust that we don’t have to do everything all the time because there’s a greater collective that’s holding us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This week, I was reminded of a post I wrote 16 years ago so I’m going waaaaay back into the archives. I hope it’s helpful for you.
A friend sent a PowerPoint presentation about a professor holding a cup. The story goes like this: A professor walked into class one day and held up a cup of water for all to see. The professor asked, “How much do you think this cup weighs?” The students answered, “50g! 100g! 125g!”
“I really don’t know unless I weigh it,” the professor said. “But my question is, what would happen if I held the cup like this for a few minutes?”
“Nothing.”
“What would happen if I held it up like this for an hour?” the professor asked.
“Your arm would begin to ache.”
“You’re right. Now, what would happen if I held it for a day?”
“Your arm would go numb, you would have muscle stress and paralysis and have to go the hospital for sure!” one of the students shouted amid laughter.
“Very good. But during all this did the weight of the cup change?”
“No.”
“Then what caused the arm to ache and the muscle stress?” the professor asked. The students were perplexed. “What should I do now to come out of pain?” asked the professor.
“Put the cup down!” said the students.
“Exactly,” the professor replied.
Sometimes we just need to put it down. Photo by Galya Chikunova on Unsplash
I love this metaphor. When life throws something my way, I tend to hold on. I obsess, I angst, I work myself up. But that’s the key point – I got myself worked up. I have a choice in how I feel, which means I can choose to feel differently. This is a tricky thing because toxic positivity is real. Spiritual bypassing is a thing. People will do almost anything to not feel their feelings. I’m not advocating that, but at the same time, what’s my part? Am I turning a windmill into a giant?
It can be hard to let go and a method I use is the emotional freedom technique (EFT), also called tapping. It helps me feel my feelings in the moment and not ruminate on them. It doesn’t always work, but usually, I feel a slight shift in how I feel and that’s always a victory. Sometimes, I combine tapping with Louise Hay’s method of saying, “I’m willing to release my need for ______.” Or even, “I’m willing to be willing to release my need for _____.”
Ultimately, I want to feel better. I want to know peace. As the serenity prayer states, some things I can change and some things I cannot. I can’t change everything but what I can change is how tightly I’m holding on to something. I can do something about my own suffering and finally put the ‘cup’ down and that’s what I want for everyone.
I dream of a world where we strike a balance between feeling our feelings and changing our moods. A world where we use the tools at our disposal like EFT or journaling to process how we feel. A world where we understand that sometimes we’re the cause of our own suffering. A world where we finally put the ‘cup’ down.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I didn’t attend any of the rallies on April 5th because I panic in crowds. And while I know it’s important to take care of myself – and I would have been a liability rather than an asset in that situation – it’s bringing up a lot of feelings. Because I care so much about society, I feel like a bad person. What am I doing to fight fascism?!? Do I make a difference in this world even if I can’t participate in the way I’d like?
The answer is yes. A recent Psychology Today article states when we do an act of kindness, we inspire positive change far beyond the person we’re helping – not just by one degree but three, according to social scientists James Fowler and Nicholas Christakis. For instance, if you help a stranger with their suitcase at the airport, that person may feel uplifted and, in turn, pass on the positive energy to someone else. The same applies to the onlookers, who, in turn, may pay it forward to their social circles. In other words, kindness is contagious and can spread in ways you’ll never know about.
Also, our social networks are much more interconnected than we realize. As the Psychology Today author Emma Seppälä writes, “You may not directly know someone’s friends, but your kindness can impact them just the same, thanks to the invisible threads of connection that link us all. It’s as if we are all part of a giant, complex web of goodwill, where every action – good or bad – reaches farther than we expect.”
A little kindness goes a long way. Photo by Matt Collamer on Unsplash.
For people interested in spreading kindness, Seppälä recommends doing things like complimenting someone, leaving a positive note for a coworker, listening with empathy, and supporting local causes. Those are things I do regularly so from that perspective, I do make a difference, and I’m sure you do too. I can’t necessarily quantify the difference I’m making – I haven’t saved anyone from a burning building or written a bill to support my community, but I’m trusting the small actions I take ripple and spread.
I’m reminded of a quote I use a lot from my spiritual teacher who says, “If one ant meets a premature death, it will disturb the balance of the entire cosmos. Therefore, nothing here is unimportant, not even an ant.” Later on, he affirms that “nobody is unimportant, nobody is insignificant. Each and every existence is valuable.”
I’m not a famous person. I’m not in a position of political power, but my existence is still valuable. My actions are still important even if they aren’t things like going to rallies or marching on Washington. Every day, I say an oath to help others according to my capacity and oftentimes, that means something small. Will I help topple fascism? Unclear. But as I’m learning from research, my influence is much greater than I think it is. Up to three times more, in fact.
I dream of a world where we realize we all have a role to play in this life. A world where we understand we all have different ways of showing up to help others. A world where we remember we aren’t unimportant, we aren’t insignificant. A world where we understand our sphere of influence is three times greater than we think it is, and keeping that in mind, we act with kindness.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.