If you’re like me, daydreaming of moderating a presidential debate, and are contemplating what questions, or requests, you might ask the candidates to address, allow me to share the first ten items on my list. No gotchas. Just simple, open-ended, non-judgmental queries a candidate can either knock out of the park or hang themselves with––depending on how well they know the person in the mirror, and how willing they are to be frank.
Author Archive for Steve Roberts – Page 16
You commit yourself to something that is the call of your heart: kindness, a friendship, learning to love by learning to Tango, forgiving everyone for everything.… Then you do what matters most: align that commitment with action.
Over time, as your dedication is shaped by the grist of experience, things happen that are indistinguishable from magic. Out of nowhere, like finding a hundred dollar bill in an old shirt, you suddenly feel the ever-deeper sensation of doing that thing more completely than ever before.
You’re just that much more in harmony, that much more expansive, that much more at home. This happened to me recently: a surge in my attunement to the drumbeat of “Only Love.” Then, the next day, my dog Red disappeared.
I recently attended my college reunion at Amherst. Among the events was an invitation for alumni to speak about something related to the college that they were particularly grateful for––an event, a relationship, a learning that has been a big part of their life since––and (at a school where, customarily, brevity is not a virtue) to do so in one minute.
Here’s what I said:
September 1971. The president’s reception for incoming freshman. I was 27, the oldest freshman Amherst had ever admitted, I was told. And, very likely, the only freshman to have graduated next-to-last in his high school class.
While I evidently did enough interesting stuff in my life to get admitted, apprehension remained. Could I actually thrive here?
When I introduced myself to president Bill Ward, he said, “Oh, you’re the old guy.” And then he said the most beautiful thing: “Welcome. You’re where you belong. Enjoy yourself.”
Today, I help people play with provocative questions. For instance: What should the sign say that hangs over the entrance to your organization, the sign you want every colleague to see every day?
If I were asked to answer that question for Amherst, I’d bow to Bill Ward and say: “Welcome. You’re where you belong. Enjoy yourself.”
I honor the grotesque world that would be D.T. TrumpenCruz, President of the U.S. of A. I don’t seek it, but I honor it. I do so for the same reason I honor every other way that we, souls awakening, are abusing ourselves, one another, and our planetary home. The blood of unkindness colors the road to a healthy life. What spills that blood is ignorance, the mother of all suffering––and a sacred teacher.
If life’s purpose is to grow our capacity to love (as I feel it is), and every moment, every situation, serves that purpose (as I feel it does), then the specter of D.T. TrumpenCruz is a ripe reminder that our tenacity to make loving choices usually takes hold only after the consequences of unlove become excruciating. Who would bet the farm, or even a nickel, we’re at that point today? If D.T. TrumpenCruz were abducted by aliens and never heard from again, what problem would really be solved?
It was Steve Jobs’ parting gift. The Apple founder saw to it that each member of the packed house at his memorial service, which included a dazzling representation of who’s who, departed with a copy of the spiritual classic, “Autobiography of a Yogi”. I can only imagine what it was about the book, published in 1949, and its author, Paramahansa Yogananda (1893-1952), that so captivated Mr. Jobs that he wanted the swami’s wisdom to touch some of the world’s most influential people. One possibility is Yogananda’s loving embrace of the totality of humankind, as well as the simplicity and depth of his understanding. Mr. Jobs, after all, aspired to create computer technology that would provide the equivalent of a bicycle for the mind to virtually everyone on earth. It’s a small step to also imagine him being especially intrigued by Yogananda’s counsel that every life circumstance can be effectively addressed with the judicious use of a single question: “Who am I?” Discovering our answer to that question may be life’s most rewarding pursuit, beginning with realizing who we are not. A sinner, for instance.
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"The push to change the words “nigger” and “injun” in Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn, because the so-called offensive nature of those terms might limit today’s readership and appreciation of that literary classic, is a wonderful opportunity to reflect on how we avoid taking responsibility for our feelings––and therefore miss the chance to become more awake, more whole, more useful friends to one another."
The Essay: The Gold in Niggers and Injuns
