The One Who Is Different

Sixty-four years ago this morning, a young woman in a hospital in Houston, Texas, gave birth to a very different baby boy. Yes, he had ten fingers and ten toes. He also came complete with the wiggling arms and legs, with eyes that saw and tiny ears that already knew how to hear. Even as an utterly helpless (but very cute) little creature, he survived those first intimate moments and days, then the years, and now nearly six and a half decades. For many years, I have affectionately referred to him as ‘me.’

He is quite different from everyone else I encounter. I can’t step back to get a proper perspective on him. I catch glimpses in mirrors and see reflections in the people and things around, but it’s all second-hand inference. When I look closely, I can experience his activity itself – the hands on the steering wheel and butt in the car seat hurtling down the interstate, but I can’t really be sure who the driver really is. Who’s doing all that doing?

Everyone else resides easily in the category of ‘them’. They exist ‘out there’ while he remains forever ‘in here.’ But even these safe categories shimmer and lose containment upon closer examination. All ‘those’ people, where do they exist? If they are out there, who is it that resides in my mind? I have certainly seen pictures of my younger mother and father and they appear to have an independent existence from me. But the parents that I remember and talk to my therapist about, are they really outside me?

Then there’s the small matter of the past sixty-four years—where are these alleged years now? Where is this past now if not here inside this moment’s memories? This time we call ‘before’ is knit into the fabric of my being – inextricably living here in the particular form and function of ‘me’. And I suppose the future, the days and weeks, the hopefully years and decades, must live here now too.

Mystery man. Time traveler. Resident of infinite universal space. ‘Me’ is now sixty-four years old. And I’m aware of sitting here on this august occasion with all of you ‘others’. Parents and teachers, family and friends, colleagues and acquaintances, students and clients. I may not ever know who I really am, but I know for sure that you are all a part of me.

And I am grateful.

Into the Wilderness

Last night I dreamt I was being sent away into the wilderness. There were two of them with guns and the two of us together being sent. We were told to turn away from the road and keep walking toward the woods. Not to look back. They could have shot us then and there, but we weren’t afraid and it wasn’t terrible, this being sent away. The two with the guns weren’t angry or mean. We simply could no longer stay in the society.

The ground ahead sloped down and was fairly open. We couldn’t walk in a straight line because there were various hazards poking up through the ground. The leaves had fallen. The trees were bare. Ahead seemed safer than behind. We didn’t know the territory but weren’t afraid. We knew we had to go deeper and deeper into the woods to find our way.

Then I had to figure out how to get people to go into the wilderness. In the dream, this seemed important and logical, an issue I should find a solution to. How to get more people to go into the wilderness. How could people get beyond that fearful moment when you have to turn your back on someone who is pointing a gun at you? This would require people to be very clear about their commitment and their motivation for going. They would have to balance clarity of purpose with an openheartedness to be able to survive in the wilderness.

Upon waking, I am surprised by the calmness and naturalness of this dream. I’m not a very brave or adventurous person – even in my dreams I’m afraid of a lot of things. But in this dream, there was no fear. I wasn’t being brave, I was just walking into the wilderness. I felt no animosity to the men with guns that were sending us away. I almost felt as if they were helping us.

My immediate association with the dream is of Jesus in the wilderness—of his being tested in the beginning of his ministry and also of the many times he would withdraw from the crowds and retreat into the countryside. Wilderness is a place of danger and hardship but also a place for nourishment and revelation.

This morning, as Black Friday dawns and the acquisitive frenzy of our culture reaches its zenith for the year, I am comforted by this strange dream.

Our problem is not just Trump, but a culture that has lost its moorings amidst the greatest abundance known in human history. The still growing chasm of disparity between the rich and the poor. The desperate sense of isolation and meaninglessness in the midst of so many bright and shiny things that stubbornly refuse to bring us satisfaction and ease.

A turning away is of course required. Ready or not, we are sometimes forced into the bountiful darkness and must find our way in the wilderness. Leaving home is the beginning of the journey.

Old Fashioned Advice to Travelers After a Divisive Election

Outside the cocoon of your usual haunts,
lies a world you have not yet considered.
Resist the urge to put what you find
into for and against what’s already done.
Open your soul to the broader view
of what’s new and what’s now and what is to come.
Then travel with ease wherever you go
as world upon world rises to meet you.

Deep Democracy

As we move into this new cultural era, many of us are still trying to find our way. I’ve heard our recent electoral shock compared to the collective trauma of 9/11. Another friend said: ‘This is the Pearl Harbor of our generation.’ Whatever we compare it to, it’s easy for many of us to become frightened and feel overwhelmed. It’s also easy to go numb and pretend nothing has happened. But how do we avoid the extremes and find some middle way?

We human beings are naturally inclined to either/or thinking. Should we reconcile or should we resist? Should we be worried or should we be hopeful? Is he good or is he bad? The mind simply wants to settle the matter. But the answer to all these questions is YES!…or as one ancient Zen teacher famously said: ‘NO!*’

When we frame a problem from two opposing views, there is always truth in both sides. This is not to fall into the quagmire of complete paralyzing moral relativism, but rather to acknowledge the reality that we all see the world from different points of view. We might even say that we all live in different universes.

Part of our life as human beings is learning to acknowledge and even appreciate this fact. Arny Mindell**, author, thinker and founder of Process Work, has spent his life considering and exploring how we can work together with others who do not share our beliefs and world views—even those we radically disagree with. He calls this endeavor: World Work and one of the foundational teachings in the process is the concepts of Deep Democracy.

Deep Democracy asserts that each person in a situation speaks not just for themselves, but for the situation itself. Each person deserves to be heard, not just because they have a right to be heard, but because they see and experience some unique aspect of what is occurring.

Mindell teaches that there is wisdom inherent in every situation – even situations of violence and chaos. Our job as participants is not to control and impose our will on a situation, but to learn from what is emerging. Our work is to trust that something of value is trying to be known. We work to join with what is happening rather to learn and support that which we do not yet know. We uncover what is already happening that may lead to new resolutions of ancient problems.

Curiosity and courage are the two essential skills here. We have to be willing to step beyond right-and-wrong thinking and to set aside, even briefly, some of our cherished certainty. This requires an intentional practice of flexibility and growing capacity to deal with the many inner opinions and feelings that may arise. This is not a trivial matter, but it is critical work.

So, this day before Thanksgiving, can we practice curiosity with whatever and whoever we encounter?  What if everyone (excluding no one) is speaking some important truth? What if these difficult times are part of an important transition into a better way for human beings to live together? What if our job is to not to sort and filter everything to confirm our position, but to be open to the new and unexpected that is trying to be born?

I wonder.

*for a wonderful collection of essays on this ‘No!’ see THE BOOK OF MU edited by my colleagues James Ford and Melissa Blacker https://www.amazon.com/Book-Mu-Essential-Writings-Important/dp/0861716434/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1479900211&sr=8-1&keywords=the+book+of+mu  

**http://www.aamindell.net/  Mindell has written many books, but my favorite is still LEADER AS MARTIAL ARTIST

Fluctuating Perspectives

This morning, I notice that I’m not feeling as anxious as I have been. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? On the one hand, it’s nice to be a little less on edge. On the other hand, maybe I’m just falling into complacency about a situation that is dire. Am I becoming the frog in the pot on the stove who is appreciating the warmth of the water as he slowly begins to boil?

I fluctuate between two poles. One voice says ‘It’s OK. We’re the same country now we were before the election. Sure Trump will do some terrible things, but we can survive this. This is just what a real democracy looks (and feels) like. ‘

The other side is: ‘These are unprecedented times. It’s never been this bad. We have never had President-elect so unqualified and temperamentally unsuited. He is a con man, racist and misogynist who will do irreparable damage to our earth and to our world.’

Over the course of the minutes it took to write the previous two paragraphs, the external world itself changed very little, but my internal experience changed dramatically. I now feel again the rising fear and uncertainty in my body and mind. Quite an amazing demonstration of the power of words and thoughts.

As human beings, we are always telling some story about what is happening. Stories are a necessary part of how we make meaning and how we live in this constantly changing world. But stories are also always partial and, to some degree, arbitrary. The same situation can be described in an almost infinite variety of ways.

All stories are true, but not all stories are not equally useful.

To say ‘everything is fine’ when the house is burning down, may be true in some existential way, but is probably not helpful in doing what needs to be done to bring the people in the house to safety. On the other hand, ‘everything is fine’ is a story that may have the power to help us heal and appreciate the life we do have even after terrible things happen.

When we are conscious of the perspective we are taking, we can sometimes have more freedom of choice and action. What is the story you are telling about Donald Trump at this moment? Are there other stories that are equally true and might lead you to a better quality of life and a greater range of actions?

Feeling anxious is unavoidable, but not always necessary or helpful.  Maybe I can feel less anxious and still be alert to stand up for the values and beliefs that are important to me.