Another World is Probable

I have this “thing” about age and success. I am riotously envious of those who are young and successful. Success in this sense means they wrote a best-selling book or started a business or head up a major department at work. It may seem strange for me to talk about success when only a few weeks ago I wrote a post about how only love is real. I do believe only love is real, but at the same time I know I am here to birth certain creative projects, and I have a desire to see them succeed. I feel envious of people (even fictional ones!) who are doing well for themselves under the age of 30. Somehow in my mind if you’re successful and you’re young, it’s a double whammy. A double achievement.

There are many issues I could touch on here – how success may be defined in numerous ways, how success doesn’t guarantee untold bliss and happiness – but what I’d like to focus on is the link to age. Why is it such a big deal for me? So what if some kid became a millionaire at age 12? So what if someone started up a billion dollar company and retired at age 32? Does age really matter? Why is youth such a trophy?

You know what? It’s not. Ultimately age is not important, it’s just a marker of when something was accomplished. I can take out my pressing need to do things quickly and while in the bloom of youth because really it’s the idea, the project, the art that’s most important. When I focus on age I lose sight of that. Yes, only love is real, but I am a human and I was put on this Earth to engage. To be a conduit for the divine and transmit certain messages. That’s what’s important. Not when I transmit them. “When” doesn’t ultimately matter as much as showing up for my part. If I accomplish something sooner it doesn’t make it more valuable. Let me say that again. If I accomplish something at the age of 15 or at 50 neither is better than the other.

Admitting “when” something is accomplished is not important is difficult for me to accept because I’ve been focused on the “when” for so long. But honestly, I’ve known in my heart all along the creation is what’s matters most.

A friend of mine said to me years ago young people who join 12 step programs are so lucky because they spend fewer years acting out their addictions. My response to him was even experiencing one day of sobriety is a gift. It doesn’t matter when you become sober, just as long as you’re sober. The same can be applied to dreams I think. It doesn’t matter when you accomplish your dreams, as long as they are accomplished.

I can now release my want to do things immediately and before I’m 30 because I know there is plenty of time. I don’t have to rush. Everything falls into place when it’s supposed to, and the idea success is even greater if I’m young when it happens can drop off because that’s all in my mind. I don’t have to believe that anymore. And I have the same wish for others.

I dream of a world where we all lose our hang up with time. A world where we understand “when” doesn’t matter, as long as our heart and soul’s desire comes to fruition. A world where we understand perhaps benevolent forces are at work that have a broader perspective about “when” it’s best for something to manifest. A world where we live freely without comparison and judgment. A world where allow ourselves to be, to dream, to achieve, knowing whenever our projects manifest is when they’re supposed to.

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

Sometimes I wish I was born as a wealthy princess, married to a handsome prince, and my only responsibility was to read books and go for walks. Sometimes I think if only things were a certain way then life would be so grand. But since that’s not my life, I’ve wanted to do as much good as I can, burn as many individual units of karma as possible, and get the heck out of dodge. Because the whole point of human life is to get to Heaven as quickly as possible! Oh wait, that’s not right.

At a particularly low time in my life, a good friend of mine said, “You can’t have the sweet without the sour.” I brushed off his statement because it seemed like a cliché thing to say. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, the world’s about balance. Blah, blah, blah.” What I didn’t realize at the time is you can’t have the sweet without the sour. I didn’t understand it’s the contrast that allows me to experience the sweet. If I had sugar all the time I wouldn’t even know it was sweet because I would become so acclimated to the taste it would become bland. I didn’t realize in order for me to experience joy, I also have to know sorrow. That there can be no “good” without “bad” because oftentimes states of being are defined by what they’re not. How can I know what bliss is if I haven’t experienced misery?

I think about that joke where two fish are swimming in the ocean. The first fish turns to the other and says, “The water’s really warm today.” The other fish says, “What’s water?” If I lived in a constant state of bliss I wouldn’t know what bliss is, much like those fish. So that is why I became physical. To experience all of it. The peaks, the valleys. The joys, the sorrows. Everything in between. Because only I, in my physical body, get to experience that. Angels, divine beings, they don’t get to experience any of it. They don’t know the thrill of ice skating or holding hands with their beloved. But I do. So this is it. The greatest ride of all. Being human. There is no heaven the way I’ve interpreted it. There is no time when I get to feel any better than I do right now. There is no time when I get to experience constant bliss, because when bliss is constant it ceases to be bliss.

I became physical so I could know all this. So I could feel all of my emotions, not just the good ones. A part of me wants to feel high all the time, doesn’t want to ever feel sad or hurt ever again. I understand now I can’t know the joy of a reunion without first experiencing a separation. I can’t understand the joys of eating unless I’ve been hungry. I entered the world to watch birds swooping in and out of traffic, to gaze at bright yellow taxis and tall redwood trees. I became physical to know the joy of a little girl racing toward me with open arms saying, “Auntie!” That’s it. I came for the experience, not the outcome.

I don’t know that I’m making any sense, but much like Licia Berry wrote in her blog, I’m recognizing my spiritual life is experiential in nature. That enlightenment and bliss are not things that happen at the end of my life after I’ve stood on my head and prayed a million times, but rather states of being accessible for me in the here and now. Because you can’t have the sweet without the sour.

I dream of a world where we allow ourselves to experience everything. A world where we know the thrill of love and the pain of separation. A world where we understand the sacredness, and the treasure, of being human because no other creature gets to experience the rollercoaster we do. A world where we have fun, enjoy life, and understand what it means to be physical.

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

Last night I watched The Social Network. Seeing how much Mark Zuckerberg (the creator of Facebook) has accomplished at such a young age brought on a deluge of ego-centric thoughts. “Why haven’t I done as much? How come I’m not as successful as he is? I want to do big things too! I want to make a splash and be important!”

A couple of thoughts. One, there are all kinds of success. Two, it doesn’t matter how many “important” things I do, the feeling of worth has to come from within. I don’t need to make billions in order to look in the mirror and say, “Rebekah, you matter.”

But that’s not what I want to talk about.

Shortly after finishing the movie, I logged onto facebook (ironically) and found a link to my friends’ kiirtan band. They had uploaded a new tune and after singing along with them I started crying because I realized this is all that matters. This feeling, right now. The knowledge that only love is real. The feeling of complete oneness and peace. The upwelling of love in my heart that expressed itself as tears. This is actually all I want. Not billions of dollars, not fame, not well-behaved children and a doting husband, but this. This feeling. The exquisite emotion of love pouring through me and to me.

Listening to my friends’ tune, I felt all my ego thoughts get stripped away. I understood I will never be the youngest billionaire or the best whatever because I have different priorities. Only love is real and real love is all I want. I’m shooting for bliss, not fame and fortune.

This is kind of a rambling post but I guess I’m saying it’s nice to refocus my priorities. To remind myself I’m not striving for a fancy car or a big house. Ultimately, I want to wake up every morning feeling happy and content because I’m following my heart. I’m using my gifts and my passions to help create a better world. I’m entrenched in the notion that only love is real. Because really, only love is real. Everything else is my mind getting caught up in the hubbub.

I dream of a world where we remember only love is real and center our lives on that notion. A world where we remember fame and fortune will not fulfill us, just distract us for a while. A world where we live each day with love, in love, for love.

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

This week I fell into a tizzy. I submitted the first 10 pages of my book Just a Girl From Kansas to a professional copy editor and she chopped out all the parts I felt were important. It wasn’t so much her suggested edits, but her deletions that got to me. I felt like she didn’t “get” me at all. I cried about it, I wrung my hands, I went into a tailspin questioning my abilities as a writer. Perhaps this copy editor knew better than I did. After all, she is a professional. Maybe I better listen to her and disregard my intuition.

. . .

No. Just no. Copy editing, like all other relationships, requires the right match. I sent the first 10 pages to a former colleague of mine, who’s also a copy editor, and she got it. She got me. I wasn’t bothered by her changes because she kept my heart intact. I didn’t feel threatened or insecure. I felt pretty comfortable, actually. Obviously my former colleague is a better match for me.

Prior to this experience, I thought a copy editor was a copy editor was a copy editor. “You mean they’re not interchangeable? You mean they don’t all do the same thing?” No, silly girl, everyone is different and does things differently! I mean of course I had to find the right person to copy edit my book. Just like I’ve had to find the right person with all my relationships.

I used to think just any person could be my best friend. As long as they said I was their best friend and they were mine, nothing else mattered. I didn’t care so much about the person as the role they played. The role was the most important part for me. I had an empty cast list I needed filling. “Pull ‘em off the street! I don’t care!”

Perhaps it’s a part of growing up, or building self-esteem, but I’m not interested in contorting myself to please others anymore. I’m not interested in compromising myself just to keep someone else around. Just so I can check off a box in my cast list. Because the right person really does make a difference. The right person really is worth waiting for. I can spend time gnawing at my fingernails and kowtowing to other people, or I can say, “No thanks,” and find someone who meets my needs. My part is feeling OK with the blank space.

I’m not going to regale you with the beauty of waiting for the right person and how it’s so much better when you do, because we’ve all heard it before. What I will say is I’m worth it. I’m worthy of waiting for the right person. I have enough self-esteem to say “No” to people and situations that do not serve me. I have value and my feelings matter. How I feel means something and I don’t need to justify myself to anyone else or try to bend my will to theirs when it feels wrong.

The role is not most important. The person is. So I’m willing to wait. I’m willing to wait for what I want. I’m willing to let go of the people who aren’t it while I keep searching for the person who is. I’m willing to be OK with the vacancies because I know, even from this small example, the incorrect match is far more painful than not having anyone at all.

I dream of a world where we are willing to wait for the right person for all situations. A world where we have enough self-esteem and pride that we trust ourselves and our intuition. A world where we’re content with waiting because it’s far less painful than wearing shoes that pinch your toes.

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

The force I reference in this title is not the Star Wars kind, but rather the kind that’s inside your head and probably a little mean. The force that’s in opposition to gentleness.

I like to force myself to do things all the time. “I don’t feel like walking all the way home, but I’m going to force myself because I need the exercise.” “I don’t want to go out tonight, but I’m going to force myself because I need to be social.” The list could go on. I usually force myself because I have the best of intentions, but do you see how in forcing myself there’s opposition? There’s the “I” that doesn’t want to do something, and then there’s the “I” that makes me anyway. I think it’s probably my ego trying to exert control because, well, that’s what the ego does.

What I’m noticing lately though is I’d rather be in complete alignment with myself. I’d rather treat myself with love and gentleness because also, I realize eventually I’ll have the willingness to do what I need to do. But instead of forcing myself, I’ll just want to.

Let me back up. When I first started meditating it was suggested to me I needed to meditate twice a day every day. I would force myself for about two weeks before my routine petered off and I just couldn’t anymore. My willpower deflated. Then my senior year of college I wanted to meditate that frequently just for my sanity. What with all the stress of graduating, living with roommates, and entering the “real” world I wanted to meditate every day, twice a day just so I could get through. That’s how it is with me. It’s the same way with yoga. My teacher came to me in a dream and told me to practice my yoga postures and I refused. Because I didn’t want to. Then three years ago, all of a sudden I wanted to, so I did.

I bring this up because today I went swimming for the first time in probably three years and it was glorious. I smiled to myself and skipped down the street on the way to the pool because, “I was going swimming! I was going swimming!” Prior to today I tried to force myself to go. To somehow work swimming into my already busy schedule, but it just wasn’t happening. And now it has.

I’m not sure I’m making sense, but I guess my point is I don’t have to force myself to do anything – not even brush my teeth – because I know one day, someday, I’ll want to do those things. And it’s true. I want to brush my teeth twice a day and floss every night. I don’t ever have to use force with myself. I don’t ever have to do things I don’t want to as long as I’m willing to live with the consequences, like cavities, or whatever the case may be. Eventually my want and my willingness always line up. So I don’t have to worry. I don’t have to contemplate adding a kung fu class to my life or learning bookkeeping or whatever the other million things are that I think are good for me that I “should” be doing. I just don’t. Eventually the willingness always manifests. And if it doesn’t, perhaps I’m not meant to engage.

I feel so much more at ease knowing I don’t have to ever rely on my ego or the “should” voice because everything lines up. The time, the willingness, the money. It all comes together in a magical package where force doesn’t come into play. So I can relax and let go, and instead allow myself to live in harmony.

I dream of a world where we all allow ourselves to be where we are. A world where we recognize eventually, if we’re supposed to, we’ll find the willingness to do the task at hand. A world where we can relax, knowing all is well.

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

“When I publish my book, I’ll be happy. When I marry a gorgeous guy, I’ll be happy. When I finish all my work, I’ll be happy.” When, when, when. I know I’ve written about happiness before, but now I’m deepening my understanding of it.

Lately I feel like I have a split personality disorder because there is the voice of my ego – the one that tells me I can only be happy once I achieve certain things – and then there’s the voice of love. I’m discovering another big lie I tell myself is happiness lies in the future. That happiness is contingent on the presence of certain things. Rev. Michael Beckwith refers to this as happiness on the layaway plan. I’m doing things now so I can be happy later.

What? How does that even make sense? By that token my happiness will always remain in the future, or like Abraham Hicks says, I’ll be happy for a second before I’m focused on my next “want.” What a horrible way to live. I mean, yes, I think it’s important to have goals and desires, but to always place my happiness in the future seems like a sad state of affairs.

I think this is the crux of living in the now because ultimately only “now” exists. If I constantly think I’ll be happy tomorrow, I will never be happy because tomorrow never comes, as my dad likes to say. There is only now.

I guess I’m waking up to the fact I can be happy anytime, in anyplace, during any situation. I’ve heard tale of extremely poor people who still seem incredibly happy and at peace. Those writing about the impoverished are often baffled as to why. “These people have nothing! They’re living in a shack! Why are they so happy?” I think this is it. They’ve learned the art of living in the now. They’ve learned the art of gratitude and appreciate. They understand happiness is in the present.

Tonight I also started contemplating the dangers of trying to “make” someone else happy. Is that even possible? Is that even something I want to strive for? It seems like an awfully burdensome road, constantly trying to make other people happy. It seems much wiser to just allow people to create their own happiness and hope I can come along for the ride. What a relief. To no longer believe I’m responsible for anyone else’s happiness. To recognize the best I can do is follow a moral code, learn from my mistakes, and apologize when I hurt someone. And really, that’s it. I am only responsible for my own emotions, and usually not even then.

I’m getting a little off track here but I guess I’m saying there is nothing in my future that will make me happier than I am now. I only think there is. Having said that, yes, it’s important to follow divine guidance and what my heart says because that puts me in alignment with my higher power, but I don’t have to wait to do that. I can move closer and closer to infinite love and peace each and every moment just by getting quiet. By expressing my innermost thoughts and feelings. Because when you come down to it, isn’t that what happiness really is? To feel love? Who says I have to wait?

I dream of a world where we feel happy now, where we feel peace now. A world where we understand happiness comes from gratitude and appreciation. A world where we reach up and grab the happy feelings because they are there for the taking. A world where we feel love both internally and externally.

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

I’ve been lying to myself for quite some time now. I’ve believed something that is blatantly not true but I’m resentful it’s false. You see, I honestly believed if I was a good girl, if I behaved, I would get everything I wanted. I believed God was like Santa Claus who rewarded the virtuous and punished the wicked. If I ate all my vegetables and treated people with kindness I would get a Barbie Dream House. What do you mean that’s not true?

This belief could also be called “entitlement,” which is particularly insidious because it taints my relationship with a higher power. Entitlement coats the relationship with resentment. It enrolls me in a game no one else is playing.

I started thinking about a world where a Santa Claus God did exist. What it would look like and who I would be. Spoiled and selfish for one. All I would do is take, take, take. Ask for more from my higher power. There would be no love, there would be only ego. My ego would overcome everything, consume everything until ultimately it destroyed the world. Would I care about the environment? About other people? Probably not. Life would be about me and my desires and how they can be satisfied. I would only be good and kind as a means to an end.

Here is what I understand now. If life operated the way I wanted it to, where I could bargain with God, I would never find the divinity resting within me. I would never understand how we’re all connected. I would never move closer to the light. How can I merge with God if I feel a separation? That’s what “merge” means. No distinction. If God constantly resided outside of me I would never become enlightened because there would always be two entities: me and God. I’m not sure I’m making any sense but I guess I’m saying in order to move closer to the light I have to become the light. I have to become divine. I have to become my higher power and I cannot do so if I think I’m anything other than light, love and divinity. So really this Santa Claus God complex is just another ego construct.

Here’s the other thing I realized. I am gifted by the universe not because I’m a good girl who gives up her seat for the elderly, but because I am loved. My higher power loves me so much I am bestowed with the things I desire. That is the true meaning of a gift. It’s an act of love. I may be bargaining with my higher power but my higher power is not bargaining with me. HP just loves me and wants to show that love by giving me a gorgeous apartment in San Francisco, a job I enjoy and a plethora of friends. My higher power wants me to have what I want just because I’m loved. So the resentment I’ve been carrying around? The good-girl complex? They’re all for naught. Entitlement and Santa Claus are both lies.

Lastly I’d like to leave you with a saying a friend of mine has. He said when he asks his higher power for something he gets three answers: “Yes,” “Yes but not now,” or, “No but I have something better for you.” Nothing ever comes to me as a means of punishment. It doesn’t matter how well I behave. That’s not why I’m getting my heart’s desires. They are coming to me because I am knowingly or unknowingly riding a current of love.

I dream of a world where we stop bargaining for what we want. A world where we realize we do not control what gifts we receive. A world where we understand gifts are tokens of love, especially when they come to us from a higher power. A world where we let ourselves be loved just as we are.

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

On Sunday it occurred to me my body is my friend, not my enemy. For years I heard the expression, “The body is a temple,” but I never knew what it meant. It sounds so hokey. “The body is a temple.” Ok. Right. I’ll refrain from drugs and alcohol and make sure to eat my vegetables. Done. Except not done. Not only is it important what I put into my body but my attitude. For years my body and I have been locked in combat. I’ve tried to beat it into submission to give me rock hard abs and toned triceps. Not to mention clear skin and smooth hair.

For years I yelled at my body for everything: for being too flabby, for causing me pain, for not working the way I wanted it to. “Why can’t you just do what I want and look the way I want you to look?!?” I thought I had to beat up my body to show it who’s in charge. On Sunday it occurred to me I’ve been approaching this all wrong. My body is not an enemy to war with, but rather my closest ally. You see, it’s just responding to my cues. Packing on weight? It’s probably because I’m feeling afraid and want an extra layer of protection. Breaking out? It’s probably because my liver needs a good cleanse. Everything that happens in or to my body is a signal. A signal of what I’m doing. Of how I’m feeling. Even my sprained ankle comes down to direction. As in, moving in a new one. I sprained it and then two weeks later got the notice I was getting laid off. It’s like my body knew in advance I was about to start a new phase.

Everything is related. Everything is interconnected. My body is not separate from me. We are one and the same. It’s only doing its job. It’s not my body’s fault when I get a cold. It’s mine. “Fault” even is a little strong. It’s more like I did x, y, z and the repercussion is illness. Why did I get sick in the first place? Could it be because I’m overtired and craving a rest? Tada! My body orchestrates that.

On Sunday it occurred to me I need to start treating my body with respect. Not because it’s a sacred temple I enter every now and again to pay homage to the gods, but because it’s my best friend. It’s my closest companion. I love my body and so my body deserves to be treated with love. It deserves a good cleanse. It deserves rest. It deserves my attention. Instead of shouting over what my body is trying to convey, perhaps I can listen instead. What would that be like? Living in greater harmony with my body?

I dream of a world where we treat our physical selves with love. A world where we respect our bodies and treat them as friends. A world where we know our bodies are doing the best they can, following our lead. A world where we live in harmony with ourselves and each other.

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