Essays – Page 8

My Two Cents

There’s Always A Healthier Choice Than Good Riddance

One of the competitors at this year’s U.S. Open Tennis Championships was disqualified for verbally abusing the umpire.  An opinion piece about the incident in the Times was headlined: “A Crude Rant Gets Fognini Booted From the Open––and Good Riddance.”  In at least one way, Fabio Fognini’s verbal outburst and the Times’ “Good Riddance” were very much the same: a reaction of anger born of unmanaged fear.

Except that the Times’ headline was actually more harmful.  Perhaps unwittingly it encouraged its many readers to infer that demonizing people who do crazy shit is a more effective way of creating a healthier world than growing compassion for them. Read More

If You’re Paying Attention, You’re Not Outraged

 

To what extent are some members of the opposing sides in the Charlottesville, Virginia confrontation the same in their hatred?  How much are each virulent in their disdain for what they feel the other represents?  How are the lives of each compromised by these feelings?  How is our society’s health diminished?

I’m sure that some members of the resistance to white supremacy, of which I am one, live the non-violent principles of the civil rights workers of the 1960’s, which I do, not well, but aspire to.  These principles include that to truly act in a non-violent way, one must remove violence from one’s heart.

My sense is that most people with that capacity have the benefit of some serious training, whether in this life or a previous one.  The rest of us, less skilled at returning love for hate, are more susceptible to being outraged by that which we consider vile.  In the case of Charlottesville, we may find ourselves hating the haters.  And hey, we can easily justify this reaction because, after all, we’re on the side of the angels and those assholes are not.

The self-destructiveness of that response is what some of us may have in common with those whose beliefs and actions we abhor.  I’ve never heard of anyone hating their way to happiness, except by learning how limiting hate is. Read More

There’s No Place I’d Rather Be

When I brought her coffee in bed on our anniversary, as I do many mornings, I said to Dear that it’s a strange thing when the number of years we’ve been married feels bigger than the number of years we’ve been alive.

Which got me thinking: I bet that’s not an uncommon sensation for those who live in wonder at the vastness of existence.  People like us, really.

The joy we know today makes it easy to appreciate the time and pain and despair it can take to discover a peaceful heart.  It is joy born of becoming ever better at surrender, a skill enhanced by the angels of bullshit who, when necessary, wrench from our clutch whatever we mistake for serious business. Read More

Opening the Door of Healing

I’ve just read “Killers of the Flower Moon” by David Grann, about the systematic murder of probably hundreds of people and the disenfranchisement and terrorizing of many more as greed and prejudice fueled an ugly response to the phenomenal riches of Osage Indians in Oklahoma a century ago.

The Osage happened to find themselves the beneficiaries of an enormous oil discovery on their reservation.  Tribal members soon became some of the wealthiest people on earth.  Naturally, this stimulated all sorts of schemes to defraud the Osage of their affluence by those, including members of Congress, whose personal values were not equal to resisting the tremendous temptation.

The lesson I find most noteworthy about that brutal chapter of American history is that it is virtually unknown in our culture.  And by “unknown” I mean, most devastatingly, “unlearned from.”  This is not surprising, since virtually all the chapters of untold viciousness we Americans have visited upon ourselves and others are significantly “unlearned from”—perhaps most notably, or egregiously, the lives of black people, native people, and women.  Oh, there are many others, to be sure, but those are undoubtedly among the more conspicuous.

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What’s Worth a Big Smooch?

Adverse conditions are our spiritual teacher, sages say.  That’s why we might consider kissing Trump’s ring.  You know, metaphorically speaking.  Few people have made our nation so dangerous and our government so mean-spirited.  Few people, therefore, have obliged us so strongly to engage in one of life’s most important activities––sharpening our sense of:

    • What’s essential, what we cannot live without.
    • The values we hold sacred.
    • Who we aspire to be or die trying, no matter what.
    • And, given our answers (for ourselves individually, and for the world), the healthiest action we can take now.

Trump may be over the moon nuts, a crackpot extraordinaire with no ethical center, as trustworthy as a brain surgeon with hiccups, but anybody who prompts us to pay attention to considerations that help define the well-being of every person on earth is useful, if not enjoyable.

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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