My spiritual teacher uses the word “beatitude” a lot because that is his wish for everyone, that we all experience felicity of the highest kind, or consummate bliss. That got me thinking about bliss, what it means to be blissful, and how that squares with, well, life. For instance, on New Year’s Day, my parents and I found the back window of our car rental smashed in. How does that fit in with consummate bliss?
I don’t know because I’m just a human being, but what I do know, according to my spiritual philosophy, is every entity is moving from crudeness toward subtlety (some more quickly than others). The image that comes to mind is that of a river flowing toward the ocean. A current is carrying us from where we are now to somewhere else. Parts of the river are calm, others are choppy. While flowing down this river we may experience anger, fear, or sorrow, but the one constant is the water itself. Maybe bliss is like that. Maybe it’s the ever-present water below carrying us forward.
In my spiritual tradition we have a word for viewing the world from this lens. It’s called madhuvidyá. Madhuvidyá literally means “honey knowledge” and requires seeing everything, EVERYTHING, as an expression of an infinite loving consciousness, also known as Brahma. Yes, that means our car rental window getting smashed. It also means all the bad things, all the irritations, all the whatever that seem anything but blissful.
Working on this “honey knowledge” thing. Photo by Arwin Neil Baichoo on Unsplash
“This universe of ours is not absolute truth – it is only a relative truth,” my spiritual teacher says. “So the wise should try to know the absolute truth. But simultaneously it is also desirable that while striving to realize the Supreme Entity one should maintain an adjustment with this relative world. While doing one’s duties properly with the application of madhuvidyá, one can achieve permanent cessation of afflictions from this relative world. Then all the entities of this world will be as sweet as honey for the spiritual aspirant.”
That’s what I want for myself. I want all the entities of this world to be as sweet as honey. Not in a spiritual bypassing sort of way, but a recognition of both the relative truth and the absolute truth. The relative truth is I was so pissed off about the smashed window I screamed at the top of my lungs, cussing out whoever did it. And the absolute truth is the glass scattered across our backseat, the person or people who broke the window, and whatever they used to break it, are also Brahma, are also love, are also the Supreme.
As I enter this new year, it will be easy to fall into the trap of seeing things in black and white. Or labeling them as good or bad. But maybe I can also keep in the back of my mind that I’m evolving, the world is evolving, and the river we’re traveling on will never run smooth. But regardless, the water pushing us forward is there, is steady, is constant, and quintessentially is love itself.
I dream of a world where we can hold relative truths as well as the absolute truth. A world where we understand rough things will happen to us but love is still there. A world where we realize we’re all on a river moving forward in our evolution. A world where we do our best to lace our perspective with honey knowledge so that we can experience untold sweetness.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
As we enter this new year, I notice I feel pressure to be hopeful and optimistic. Because vaccines are here! And a new president is on his way! And 2020 is officially done! All of that is true, and yet neither the past nor reality change just because we flipped the calendar. We still carry with us everything that came before and much remains unknown. I’m reminded here of the quote by Rilke about living our way into answers. I think we’re all doing that – with the unfolding of every day, every year, we are living our way into answers.
I also want to quote three stanzas from John O’Donohue’s poem “For a New Beginning” because I think it’s relevant as we continue to progress into this new year. He wrote:
In out-of-the-way places of the heart,
Where your thoughts never think to wander,
This beginning has been quietly forming,
Waiting until you were ready to emerge.
…
Though your destination is not yet clear
You can trust the promise of this opening;
Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning
That is at one with your life’s desire.
Awaken your spirit to adventure;
Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk;
Soon you will be home in a new rhythm,
For your soul senses the world that awaits you.
We are finding our new rhythm this year. A year that will continue to challenge all of us because as you know, the pandemic has not ceased. Nor has there been a return to normal just yet. Businesses remained closed or at reduced capacity. We are still encouraged to keep our distance from one another. But I find comfort in O’Donohue’s words as well as Rilke’s as I remember more will be revealed. We will learn how to navigate what waits before us. Furthermore, we will continue to dream our dreams, which I think a new year is always best for. It’s when we envision what we want for ourselves, who we want to be, how we want to feel.
I want to feel better. I want to feel rejuvenated. I want to live in a world that values all people as well as the environment. And I know I’m not alone. There are many people who feel the way I do, which I find encouraging. To add some more oomph, I want to close with a quote from my spiritual teacher who said this back in 1957:
“The purport of dharma [meditation] is to look upon every person, every object of this universe as one integral entity. To jeopardize the unity of the human race by creating factions is not the purpose of dharma. Those who encourage vested interests survive on the mental weaknesses of people and their dissensions, and that is why they are scared of the spread of the ideals of dharma and exhibit their intolerance toward it in all sorts of immoral ways, such as abuse, false propaganda, and lies. People must not be cowed by this; they have got to march ahead. It is to be borne in mind that hindrances are beneficial to human beings on the path of righteousness and to continue to fight against them is what is [their practice].”
Amen to that. Here’s to a year where we continue to fight against injustice, a year where we sow unity over division, a year where we ferret out lies and replace it with truth. A year where we continue to march ahead, a year where we live our way into answers, a year where we build a better world for us all.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
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.
As you know, we’re rounding the bend on 2019. Where did the year go? I know there’s that 10-year challenge floating around social media but I can’t contemplate that we’re about to enter a new decade because I’m pretty sure my mind will explode. No, I’m only thinking about this year and I’ve cried a couple of times this week because 2019 is not at all what I expected; nor did I accomplish what I thought I would.
I remember starting off this year feeling buoyant and enthused as I flew back from LA to the Bay Area, the sun peeking through the clouds. I took it as a good omen, that the universe shared in my optimism. This year I looked forward to financial abundance, to possibly dating again, and also finishing my novel. None of those things happened. Instead this year was like landing in a new city only to be greeted by wildfire smoke – something unanticipated and I didn’t even know I should check for. (That actually happened to me by the way.)
Not quite what I was looking for, but it works! Photo by Steve Halama on Unsplash
This year my accomplishments cannot be enumerated. They are more of the internal variety: setting boundaries with toxic people, demanding what I’m owed, determining what I’m worth, etc. They cannot be shared at a holiday party – except for the fact I started my own business. That I’m telling to everyone who will listen. So yeah. I’m disappointed about this year. I’m literally crying about the gap between my dreams and my reality.
This is the point where I’m probably supposed to talk about how dreams can be deferred, about how things can change on a dime, about how there’s still time as long as I’m alive. All of that is true, and I don’t want to gloss over the grief. There’s nothing to fix here. There’s nothing to change. This year was what it was. I showed up like a champ for the challenges life presented me and that’s also something to celebrate. Was it a good year? No, but it also wasn’t a bad one. It was a year. An exciting, boring, happy, sad, easy, hard, wonderful, terrible year.
What comes to mind right now is a concept underpinning my last couple of posts: surrender. My spiritual teacher says suppose Cosmic Consciousness wants you to become even greater than what you are praying to become. What if Cosmic Consciousness finds greater potential in you than you’re aware of? The best thing to do is surrender completely, to be a conduit instead.
This year has felt like that to me – and also that I’m getting polished. All the things I learned this year, all the things I endured, have been necessary to create an even better version of me. I would have been content with not learning hard lessons, with not undergoing hardship, but then I wouldn’t be where I am now – able to protect myself, to take care of myself, and not let anyone thwart me, including me. So maybe I’ve accomplished what I wanted this year after all.
I dream of a world where we mine for gold in the darkness of our lives. A world where we recognize a year can be both good and bad, even if didn’t go according to plan. A world where we let go of internal “shoulds” and instead embrace what’s here, recognizing maybe we accomplished more than we thought at first glance.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I don’t set New Year’s resolutions. I used to set New Year’s intentions, which morphed into New Year’s visioning. The idea stems from the notion it’s easy to fall into inertia and let one day bleed into the next. That if we don’t have a plan, we’ll wander around listless, purposeless, like a thistle blowing in the wind. However, here we are at the end of January and I haven’t finished envisioning what I want for this year.
I feel loads of pressure to get it done this month, as if January is some magical time of year that leads to wish fulfillment. Or as if January is the “last-call month” and if I don’t create a road map for the year in January, somehow I’m doomed and none of my dreams will come true. That I’ll never change certain aspects of myself and my life. I know many people feel the same way because I’ve seen comments floating around on Facebook and Instagram saying things like, “January was my trial month. My resolutions actually begin in February.”
Why pineapples? Why not pineapples? Photo by Pineapple Supply Co. on Unsplash
I get it. I feel the same way. And I’d like to point out here not only can change happen at any time, but also we can start over at any time. I could start my day over at 10 p.m. And I could commit to something new on December 28th. The date and time don’t matter. The pressure we put on ourselves at the start of the new year, myself included, is self-inflicted.
The reality is we’re constantly changing, constantly moving. My spiritual teacher says movement is the very characteristic of the universe. So like it or not, we’re all moving. And the reality is the movement or change doesn’t often sync up with the calendar. That’s why most people don’t stick with New Year’s resolutions. We’re trying to make a change starting on January 1st, but maybe we’re not actually ready for the change yet. Maybe we’re trying to force something.
What I know to be unequivocally true in my life is change happens when all the elements sync up. When internally I’m ready and externally the world is ready too. For instance, I may want to travel through outer space, but until I train as an astronaut or someone builds a spaceship for private citizens, that’s not going to happen. Sometimes our inner motivation hasn’t lined up with the outer world yet, and that’s OK. That doesn’t mean they never will. Sometimes what’s required from us is patience and acceptance of what is.
I dream of a world where we realize change often doesn’t sync up with the calendar. A world where we remember change happens only when all parts align and that’s a process that can’t be rushed. A world where we go easy on ourselves if we’re not able to accomplish something we set out to accomplish because we understand maybe it’s not time yet.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I had a moment on New Year’s Eve where I thought about going to bed before midnight. It would have been easy – I was in my room, lying down, waiting for the minutes to tick closer to 12. For the first time in my life, I realized a year is a collection of days and in some ways the start date is meaningless and arbitrary. Particularly because the Jewish New Year, which takes place in September or October, seems more in alignment with marking the phases of my life.
I think the other reason the start of the new year didn’t excite is me because I’ve blown past all the mile markers I set for myself, and others set for me. A psychic told me by age 30 I’d have two elementary-aged children. Another told me in 2017 I’d meet my romantic partner. Two years ago I thought I’d be engaged this past winter. Those dates came and went without any of the predictions coming true. I bring that up because this is the first year I have zero expectations for the year. This is the first time the year ahead of me is a big question mark.
We make our own fate. Photo by Cristian Escobar on Unsplash.
All around me people are making their new year’s resolutions or intentions or goalsetting while I’m not. A part of me feels anxious about that, like I should be doing the same thing because otherwise the year will be terrible and I’ll be miserable, but I also realize the year is a collection of days and can start over at any time. Instead of freaking out that I haven’t planned my whole life, I’m recognizing I can make plans when I’m ready. I know goals are important because they give us direction, but right now I’m building my trust muscle, trusting that when it’s time for me to make a goal, I will. It could be a random day in April and that would be fine.
This year I’m understanding more deeply the future is not laid out before me like a bread crumb trail. The future is a culmination of past actions, some that are out of my awareness.
My spiritual teacher said, “The stars do not control you; your original actions control you. And where the original action is not known to you, but the result is known to you, the result is experienced by you, you say it is fate.”
There’s a freedom in realizing my past actions dictate my future because it means anything is possible. It means I could head in any direction and anything could happen to me this year. Life is a precious collection of moments that are largely unplanned. I don’t want to miss out on the treasures because I’m too busy following a schedule I set for myself. This year I’m really and truly open to whatever is and that feels like a good thing.
I dream of a world where we take the pressure off ourselves to plan our whole lives. A world where we realize the new year can start for us at any time. A world where we remember plans are more like guidelines and nothing is set in stone. A world where we recognize fate belongs to us and we can take our time.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
After reading a thought-provoking article on Buzzfeed the other day about the movie Titanic, I decided to re-watch it. The love Jack feels for Rose, a love where he’s willing to put his life on the line for her multiple times, moved me, as it did millions. That sort of love reminded me of a poem by Daniel Ladinsky who wrote:
Even
After
All this time
The Sun never says to the Earth,
“You owe
Me.”
Look
What happens
With a love like that,
It lights the
Whole Sky.
I want a love like that, a love that lights up the whole sky. And I don’t mean only in the romantic sense, although that would be nice too. The work for me at the moment, maybe all moments, is the relationship with myself. My therapist reminds me over and over again I must give to myself internally what I want externally. And furthermore, I must give from a place of abundance and surplus. That I fill up my own cup first and then give from the overflow. Thus, in order to experience a love like Jack feels for Rose, a love like the Sun feels for the Earth, I must turn the focus toward me.
I know it’s not the sky, but I liked the light in this photo. Photo by Madison Nickel on Unsplash.
Have I mentioned self-love is hard? Because it’s hard. When we talk about self-love, usually people mention affirmations, as if saying “I love you” while looking into the mirror is all it takes. I wish. Love is setting boundaries, saying no, practicing integrity, and thinking beyond the short term. It means not eating a gallon of ice cream because later you know your stomach will hurt.
I have to believe the more I love myself, the more other people learn to love themselves, and we create a ripple effect until eventually we are lighting up not only each other, but the whole sky. This is my last post of 2017 and I’m writing it on Christmas Eve, which feels appropriate. I’m not Christian, but I appreciate Jesus for the loving, kind, compassionate being he seemed to be. I’m happy to celebrate the birth of someone like that, who embodies those characteristics, and I write this post a harbinger of what I hope will come for us all.
In the new year, I’d like us all to feel loved and cherished. I want us all to work together, to survive our version of the Titanic, steering toward an iceberg we are powerless to miss. I want us to take each other into our metaphorical lifeboats, and literal lifeboats too. I want us to make space for all our siblings, not because it’s the “right” thing to do, not because we “should,” but because so much love spills from our hearts we can’t do anything else.
I dream of a world where we’re taking care of each other, where we’re lifting each other up. A world where we practice deep, real love. A love that is generous, a love that moves us to sacrifice some of our comfort in service of someone else. A love so big and beaming, it lights up the whole sky.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
For the past five days I’ve lived in a bubble. Members of my yoga and meditation group gathered in Malibu where we sang, danced, meditated, and learned from each other. Gazing at the ocean surrounded by so much beauty and love, it was easy to forget the real world. And then I flew home.
Re-entry startled and unnerved me, raw and sensitive as I am running on a few hours of sleep. On the drive home, I saw police officers tackling a man on the shoulder of the highway. It wasn’t me being chased, but my heart started pounding nonetheless. On the same ride, I saw hearts painted on the roof of a building. All of these things coexist.
The new dawn is on its way.
I don’t know what this year holds. I’m guessing it will be a mix of things, just like my ride home. There will be happy things and scary things and sad things and awesome things. For some of us there will be an unequal mix. But feeling my heart pound watching someone else’s life, reminds me we are all in this together. We all belong to each other and we are all responsible for each other. We are not as separate as we’d like to believe. On the same car ride home, the word “one” also caught my attention from a passing sign. It seemed to me a reminder of that fundamental truth.
As we start this new year, I want to quote my spiritual teacher because the message seems relevant. He said:
Just as the advent of the purple dawn is inevitable at the end of the cimmerian darkness of the interlunar night, exactly in the same way I know that a gloriously brilliant chapter will also come after the endless reproach and humiliation of the neglected humanity of today.
Those who love humanity and those who desire the welfare of living beings should be vigorously active from this very moment, after shaking off all lethargy and sloth, so that the most auspicious hour arrives at the earliest.
Let us all greet the new dawn. Let us all experience a gloriously brilliant chapter. And let us all work to bring that “auspicious hour” sooner rather than later.
I dream of a world where we remember we’re all connected. A world where we remember we all belong to each other. A world where we work together to create a glorious and brilliant life that we all wish to lead.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
As this year is quickly coming to a close, I’m thinking about what I’d like the new year to bring. If I’m honest, I want to be happy all the time. I want my life to be a series of good things, of wishes coming true, of ease and grace. Yet, as I look back at this year, or any year, really, I see that’s not possible. Life is good things and bad things, marriages and divorces, deaths and births all smushed together.
I’ve tried to escape pain, to only experience pleasure, but pain is inescapable. There will always be pain and there will always be pleasure, but there will also always be something more than either. Call it love, call it God, call it Spirit, call it the universe. There exists something beyond me, that’s bigger than me that gives me peace of mind no matter what.
This isn’t me but it could be.
I used to set New Year’s resolutions, which morphed into intentions. My only intention for this year is to align myself closer with God, Spirit, the universe. When I’m in alignment, when I’m “feeling the love” so to speak, I feel OK regardless of the circumstances. So often I get caught up in one thing or another; the drama overtakes me and I overidentify with my pain. I feel helpless, like a little boat upon the sea getting bashed about by waves and wind.
I equate syncing up with the universe as diving down deep into the ocean where the water is less choppy and the wind blows above me. In essence, a state of mental equipoise. How great does that sound?!? I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to maintain a state of detachment, but I’d sure like to try. This year I’d like to experience bliss not attached to people or circumstances, but rather self-generating through dint of my spiritual practices. This year I’d like to experience divine, unconditional love. The kind I feel as a constant presence. This year I’d like to take a different approach to my trials as I remember their transient nature. I want to use my gifts to serve others in anyway I can and treat myself with all the love, care, and attention I deserve.
I have that wish for others too. I wish that we may all experience untold bliss like we’ve never experienced before. That we ascend to new heights and feel just how loved we are. That we maintain our mental equipoise and align ourselves with something greater than us. That we serve ourselves and others and practice the golden rule.
I dream of a world that I just described, a world where 2015 is a bright and blessed year for all of us. A world where we join together to create a new Earth.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
For the audio version of this post, scroll to the bottom.
In this day and age it’s easy to believe we are the masters of our fates and the captains of our souls. I mean, heck, I can buy a pumpkin year round if I want to. I don’t have to ascribe to a growing season, and I can take a pill to regulate everything from bowel movements to babies. However, I’d like to suggest that we are perhaps unknowingly moving toward, or with, something greater than ourselves.
It’s officially the Jewish New Year (l’shana tova people!) and in addition to being a palindrome, 5775, this is also a sabbatical year. When I read that I literally laughed out loud. Traditionally, the sabbatical year applies to forgiving debts and leaving land fallow, but the spirit of it is rest and release.
I may be the captain of my soul but I’m floating on something. . .
I laughed because today I am flying to Missouri, or “the sticks” as my mother lovingly says, to have my own sabbatical. My primary purpose for uprooting myself for a few months is to rest. To sleep every day until 10 a.m. when I’ll start work, to take walks in nature, and remove myself from all stimuli. It may turn into a whole year, but the plan is to have my hibernation last for a few months. How perfect that my own sabbatical is coinciding with that of the Jewish sabbatical year! I didn’t plan it that way; I didn’t even know it was a rest year until two weeks ago.
What I love about this is my body, my brain, my something, is syncing up to a natural rhythm and cycle that I have no conscious knowledge of. My body, my brain, my something are taking care of me, are looking out for me, and I didn’t have to try at all. There’s an unseen force that is moving me. As much as I am the captain of my soul, my boat is sitting on water that has its own ebbs and flows. I’m being swept along with something massive and beautiful and poetic.
How refreshing! How relaxing! To not have to be in charge all the time and still be taken care of is a gift. It’s kind of exhausting being a captain isn’t it? To worry about where to steer and how fast you’re going and if you’re veering off course? It’s nice for me to take a step back and realize even when I stop trying I still end up on land. I’m speaking metaphorically, but did you know this also happened literally?
In 1947, Thor Heyerdahl constructed a raft called Kon-Tiki to cross the Pacific Ocean from South America to the Polynesian islands to show it was entirely possible that Peruvians settled the area in the pre-Columbian times. He wanted to show by using only the materials and technologies available to those people at the time, that there were no technical reasons to prevent them from having done so. And he did it. On a freaking raft. He smashed into a reef at Raroia in the Tuamotu Islands on August 7, 1947. Sometimes all that’s required of us is to turn our sail in the direction we want to go and let the current take us there.
I dream of a world where we honor the cycles we may be knowingly or unknowingly syncing up with. A world where we understand there’s a cosmic intellect that’s like an ocean current pulling us. A world where we set our sails and allow ourselves to be carried along.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.