Essays – Page 12

My Two Cents

Honoring D.T. TrumpenCruz

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?

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Being More Than Anything We Can Imagine

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 Unexpected Gift of Agony

I was recently initiated into that exclusive club: “By Far The Worst Pain I’ve Ever Experienced Or Ever Hope To.”  A few kidney stones had decided it was time leave the mother ship.  I’m told some women say it’s the equivalent of childbirth.  Perhaps the biggest gift of this assault (after the sweet kiss of lightning drugs) is its impact on my struggle with violence.  Awakened is a new depth of reality: I would never want to inflict on another the pain of my recent trips to the ER.  And that’s not always been the case.

I’m not a murderer in this life, nor is physical force my default tool for navigating the world, but its propensity, its vibration, is an intimate, familiar presence in my being from incarnations past.  Going by my father and his father, as well as my mother, I chose in this life a genetic lineage that included its fair share of rigidity, rage, control, and unpredictable violence.  That imprint is one of my sacred teachers, something I’ve needed to embrace and free.  My wife, my dearest friend for more than 40 years, who has never come close to threatening me physically, and who regularly touches me lovingly––even she finds there are still occasions when, reaching her hand to my cheek, I flinch.

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My Young Relatives: The Universe’s Response to Exceptional Craziness

What’s special about them, given their age, is the quality of light their presence contributes. To me, experiencing that light is like a kiss from the gods.

Hanging out before a recent family wedding, I say to my 17 year-old nephew, Jordan, whom I’d seldom seen and with whom I’d never had a real conversation, “So, here’s my question to you.  Let’s assume we never meet again after today.  At my age, and how infrequently our paths cross, that’s a definite possibility.  What I’d love to know, if you’re willing to share, is––what is the most important thing you’ve learned in 17 years?”  After several seconds reflection, he says, “You can influence others a lot more with compassion than in any other way.”

I don’t know how I might have answered such a question at his age, but that sure wasn’t it.  “Wow,” I say.  “Good for you.  How did you learn that?”

“From watching the people around me,” he says.

And so began a lovely chat I hope we continue about what it means to be an awake human being––just about my favorite topic.

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Young at Love II

In honor of the 2015 Supreme Court decision on gay marriage, an essay from 2009:

Vermont’s historic legislative affirmation of gay marriage is a beautiful thing.  But that doesn’t stop me from rolling my eyes.  That we debate the appropriateness of the heart’s elemental impulse to join with one’s beloved suggests just how young we are in the scheme of human evolution.  Heck, a turnip should be able to marry a basketball, if such an act increases the world’s love supply.

Now there’s a dangerous possibility.

What if boosting the planet’s woo-woo quotient were indeed the criterion to marry––or, more significantly, to stay married.  Given our nation’s divorce rate (50 percent, give or take), a whole bunch of us might not make the cut.

Just as we renew our driver’s license, we and our spouse would have our heart’s union assayed every so often.  Don’t laugh, we have the technology.  Check the book Blink by Malcolm Gladwell, or the 2009 TV drama “Lie to Me”.  And if we’re not generating good vibrations, our marriage license is suspended til we wise up.

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"I honor that we are killing the earth for the same reason I consider being an alcoholic a privilege: it is a doorway to the profound self-understanding required to make truly healthy choices."

The Essay: Honoring the Killing of the Earth