My girlfriend Adriana and I totally played hooky yesterday from a group fieldtrip we already paid for. We’re full on spiritual delinquents. When they told us the other night that the trip was five hours each way, and that that bus left at 5:30am, I looked to her pregs belly, its corresponding comically surprised and strained face, and definitively announced: “That’s too much for you. We’re not going.” (Adriana is delivering all natural route, and I joke with her that I am her "pre doula." A doula provides emotional and physical support for the mother during childbirth. I'm the demanding New York version. Carrying extra organic bars for her everywhere we go, keeping an eye out to make sure she is somewhat comfortable, telling her we're going to exploit the baby when we really need to get her first in line for things. Putting my foot down when people say things like: tomorrow you're going to be on a bus for ten hours. Did we forget to mention that?)
We took three more minutes to ask a helper’s advice, confirming our decision to ditch the excursion, and then guiltlessly, chose to give up our 3000 rupees and have a lazy day on campus rather than on an Indian bus. However there is no such thing as a day off when going through a process like this in India. The learning comes to you.
Yesterday I had written several paragraphs about my Sunday morning. It was a cataclysmic happening brought on by meditative processing, and rivers of epic (yet dignified, of course) prose flowed through me, disassembling the majesty and magnificence of the experience, to cart it, illuminated and open into the blogsophere… then I thought to myself : “What a bunch of horseshit. I’m not going to share that.”
It’s not that the experience didn’t shift my reality or my outlook on nature or give me an infinite gratitude for the expandedness and complexity of the universe. I’m not saying I didn’t sob harder than I have in my life, face covered in snot and body immovable in realization. Ok, fine, I was there. So what? Why would someone give a sh** about that if she is having boy problems? Who cares, if your family is undergoing unspeakable loss, or you have been evicted or you are having panic attacks at the side of the road because life is too much? We have to be where we are.
I’m not here in India looking for anything. What I was searching for I found a while ago. I’m not saying there wasn’t a search involved, but I got what I needed. Paths are beautiful and super necessary— but we all need to start from where we are, not where we think we want to be. For this, sometimes we need a tour guide.
To steal someone else’s metaphor: why are we always mortgaging ourselves for some future event? This is it kids.
But, to somewhat contradict the simplicity of that statement (and I must do this, because this is the nature of reality; that both sides of the same truth exist together; oy—so unfair… a bitch of a paradox, I know,) I love to philosophize about where we will go individually and collectively… This little body mind organism (or spacesuit as Ram Dass would dub it,) known to you all as Margaret, mags, Margie, Malgosia, sweetie, hottie, little lady, polka dot, loves to talk. That’s just my programming.
So on our delinquent day off, Adriana and I did what we two together do best. What we have done the world over in Australia, London, now on our second go around in India; we talked each other’s ears off. We chatted endlessly in our dorm room, in the dining hall, on the bus, on steps in front of a gift shop, in the bathroom, on the steps in front of the temple, walking, squatting, yoga-ing, calling from a block away using hand signals, even. Talking about everything from non-dualism, to pregnancy to our penchant for pragmatic boys. Miso soup, maharishis, mud masks, mashed potatoes. Others here comment on how passionate we are. We’re not riled up. We’re not upset. We shrug, looking at each other calmly and contentedly as we explain: “It’s our nature.”
I look at her and it is almost as though we have grown more similar, the way a pet and an owner do, in the last six days. (You would think after six days of non-stop talking we would have nothing to talk about—nope—there is only more.) Against the backdrop of 200 people from a dozen countries, with so many different styles and cultures, although we two are so dissimilar personally, here, we are cutie pattootie petite bobsy twins, with our mouths running off and our pink view of the world. It is utterly remarkable that we can spend so many hours in each other’s presence with our surroundings falling away from us. If I were in prison with Adriana, I don’t think I’d ever notice. That we found each other from across the world and still continue to meet hopefully once a year and pick up where we left off, is all the faith I need in destiny. If I believe in anything at all, I believe in Adriana. If I have ever known devotion, it is for her.
Dri is only a year and bit older, but she is my spiritual mentor. I would not have called her this a couple of years ago, but now I see that is exactly what she is. She's my tour guide. I think we are equal in each other’s eyes, but I look to her for guidance and trust what she says, and even when I don’t want to hear it, I listen. She scolds me, she praises me, she laughs at me, she laughs with me. There used to be times when I didn't like this-- when it would bring up that agitation... Who likes being told what to do? Who likes being told they may be wrong?
This is what we each need to find for ourselves if we want to make progress. Not a small, gorgeous pregs Brazilian (although, if available, I highly recommend going for that model...) Call it a coach, a mentor, a guide, the other half to your team. Someone who you adore that can be occasionally tough with you. If we're grounded and smart we will seek a partner who challenges us to look at things differently. If not our romantic partners, at the very least a few close friends who are not afraid to tell you: "You're wrong." "I disagree." "You're being dumb." "Look at it this way instead." "That dress looks awful." "Put down the 4th cupcake-- three is enough, lady."
This resistance is what pushes us to grow. If we stagnate, in any level of our life, we atrophy. Not only Maharishi's say that-- Woody Allen had it dead on, so to speak. But it's not only our relationships that die if we don't move forward, that is true on every level from our foodstuffs to our quad muscles to that little gooey mess in our head we think is our mind. Our greatest teachers are not those who only christen us with love and light, but who bring out the darkness and dividedness in us and then show us how to embrace both. This is why we build community, not just for support but for strength.
Yesterday in all the om shantiness of my stolen day off, I thought I would have a relaxing morning. Needless to say, it was anything but. I tried to record a video message to send via facebook to a sweetie. Within the debacle that was trying to sort things out technically in India, my icamera captured my “om shanti” self, swearing, scowling on film, when 20 seconds before I had wondered if my hair up or down would be a more attractive visage for the video message sent home. I was totally called out on my own humanity— angry, arrogant, vain-- it was disturbing and delightful. All the negative aspects are still there. Of course they are. Even facebook video messaging, or lack thereof, can be a teacher. A scowl, seeing the scowl, the subsequent smile, and then the stillness.
Dri and I laughed and laughed over this in the dining hall. Then we dove into a 90 minute debate over free will. We’re small. We like to talk. She likes mashed potatoes. I want to look pretty in a virtual video message. That’s it. That’s who we are now. I'm so glad to have her on my team. That’s it. We’re here. And we’re in bliss. It’s the hardest thing, and it’s the simplest.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
f*@# spirituality
I’m so over the word spiritual. If I never heard the word spiritual again in my life that would work just fine with me, and yet even as I write this I know it will escape my lips within the next 24 hours because our vocabularic landscape has not yet birthed a new paradigm of words that can erase the societal interdependence associated with “spiritual.”
One of my dearest friends is a seriously advanced yoga teacher and ex design exec, a cynical brit, who juxtaposes sense and spirituality—(ugh, I couldn’t even go a couple sentences) perhaps more tactfully than anyone I’ve ever known. He regularly sports a “fuck yoga” t-shirt. It’s provocative in refusing to be attached to and/or dismissing any ideas of what we think that is and should be. Refusing to be judged and labeled as a yoga “teacher” and what that should look like.
The yoga teacher’s pregs future wife, Adriana, is my current India dorm roomie. Not only roomie, but older sister, mentor, I’d even go so far as to say divine goddess sexpot guru. Brazillian, brillz, stunning in that way that makes you curse the injustice of the world because Brazilian women even exist in the first place. A non-judgmental intellectual and voracious researcher who loves mascara—this, and many other things bond us, and brought us together four years ago in India. She is the reason I am here this week. The “fuck yoga” teacher who lovingly impregnated her? He’s the Brit I thumbed to in Mysore four years ago, whispering “I think he likes you…” We’ve been a fam since.
What we are doing here this week in India is indescribable magic on many levels. I don’t have the words, no one on the planet has the words to demystify or illustrate what is happening because it’s of a plane we can’t perceive. We’re drawn here; we show up, our lives change. We give it up to faith and hopefully have the groundedness within ourselves to judge what works and what doesn’t.
That being said, last night we closed a pretty special day one of a full on trainer course with 200 other people from a dozen different countries; we have five translators going at all times it’s so big. After deeksha’ing it up, we were told to hug the person next to us. This broke out into a spontaneous hugging/laughing/ecstasy session of emotion for everyone else involved for the next 10-15 minutes. Dri and I hugged. I told her I loved the feel of her 5-month bump when she pressed her tiny body to mine. (She says she’s taller—she says this to people we meet. I think I am. The fact of the matter is we are both very small brunettes, both eyes wide with the aforementioned mascara.) We stopped our hugging and looked around at that spontaneous emotion that erupted around us, seemingly apart from us.
We were in the front row, in a prime position. She said quite simply, and I couldn’t love her more for this: “This hugging is lasting quite long… should we sit and pretend that we’re done?... (20 seconds later, still awkwardly standing)… wow, that’s a lot of hugging.”
I don’t want to sound like a hugging curmudgeon. Of course, everyone has the absolute right to express this love in whichever way they feel, but on some level, I feel like I want to take back the woo a notch for those who wouldn’t feel comfortable hugging 30 strangers from different countries. (Imagine Obama hugging 30 random people—just not really his style, nor would we want it to be. We wouldn’t want it of Jon Stewart either, I’d imagine… I don’t think that the kind of guy I want to end up with would want to hug 30 strangers. Not a judgment, different strokes.) This resistance is not a bad thing; it is called discernment, which is also a valuable “spiritual” practice. A week ago, going over a thousands of years old meditation for some peeps, one of the key words was discernment, and I feel like this is being lost in this world of woo “seeking.”
As you know, although I draw from this tradition and there is much beauty there, I am not some zen Buddhist master who resonates with “nothingness” as the ultimate enlightened state. That’s too cold for me. I need sparkle. I need color. I need fire.
Earlier today, I stood, my feet so happily soaking in the softness of the white marble floor of a temple that I had wanted to come to for years. On the top five list of my life: children, husband, career success being three of the others, coming to this temple has been on my priority to do list since I heard it was being built. It was the screen saver in my blackberry for the last nine months and when I got here, all I could do was to marvel at how soft the white marble felt. I didn’t know it would be marble against my bare feet. I didn’t know it would be soft. I didn’t know that that would be a most delicious discovery.
There was a ceremony this morning, and I clapped, I sang, I raised my hands in prayer and gave thanks and soaked in the love—I participated willingly, happily, gratefully. I had some pretty awesome out-of and in body connections but I’ll gloss over those; I don’t want to brag. In my mind’s eye, this did not mean I had to go hug everyone in my path several hours later. (Although they call this place a “university” I’ve seen looser Ashrams. The teachers are dubbed guides, but in their language it is "dasas," monks with vows and the like… they are not allowed to hug and supposedly they are already feeling oodles of love with humanity. Discernment for different reasons, but still: Discernment.)
The most beautiful sentence someone could say to me in the whole world would not be, “Take my hand; let’s go to the ashram.” It would sound something more like: “We have 8pm reservations at (insert delectable downtown manhattan restaurant here; ) wear heels.”
We are so collectively…no, let me go back. Who am I really talking to here? I’m talking to the cool kids, the intellectuals, the pragmatists, the realists, the urbanites, the urbane. Which, is also, to some extent: us. And I find we are collectively terrified of the woo. We are terrified of something that is there to guide us.
A few of the people closest to me are dynamic and successful men with absolutely no spiritual bent. I cherish these relationships perhaps most of all because they challenge my beliefs and my faith (at this point impossible, sorry boys) but also provoke and confront my interpretations of these ideas forcing me to juggle semantics and explore scientifically and practically what I am really doing. I love these discourses, these challenges, these debates because they push me to clarify what this means for myself and helps me to express it in ways to people who might not otherwise listen. I would rather coax a banker to feel a minute of love than bring a yogi to three hours of ecstasy. The yogi doesn’t need me. Neither does the banker, but hey, I can be a fun gal to have around.
I rant about this now, because I want to claim this for my own, for our own, because if you are reading this, presumably we resonate with the same mindset in one way or another, on one topic or another. I want to find a new word for “spiritual” because this connection to yourself, to this peace, to a capability for love, and really that’s all it is, is for each of us. And not tapping into it is like having a million bucks in a bank account and not wanting to know the pin code to access it. It’s there. Whoever you are, whether you believe it or not.
A friend texted back an opinion about this optional sacred ceremony I have the opportunity to participate in here, that she did while in India. “It’s lovely, but not necessary.” For all of us: coming to India? It’s lovely, but not necessary. We can find those stolen moments of love, of peace, of generosity, of connection just as easily in a downtown restaurant. It doesn’t need to be spiritual. We don’t have to hug it out. But it’s there. It exists. In you. So look out for it. Because it’s there for you and only you. And the more you notice it, the more it shows up. That’s the way it works.
One of my dearest friends is a seriously advanced yoga teacher and ex design exec, a cynical brit, who juxtaposes sense and spirituality—(ugh, I couldn’t even go a couple sentences) perhaps more tactfully than anyone I’ve ever known. He regularly sports a “fuck yoga” t-shirt. It’s provocative in refusing to be attached to and/or dismissing any ideas of what we think that is and should be. Refusing to be judged and labeled as a yoga “teacher” and what that should look like.
The yoga teacher’s pregs future wife, Adriana, is my current India dorm roomie. Not only roomie, but older sister, mentor, I’d even go so far as to say divine goddess sexpot guru. Brazillian, brillz, stunning in that way that makes you curse the injustice of the world because Brazilian women even exist in the first place. A non-judgmental intellectual and voracious researcher who loves mascara—this, and many other things bond us, and brought us together four years ago in India. She is the reason I am here this week. The “fuck yoga” teacher who lovingly impregnated her? He’s the Brit I thumbed to in Mysore four years ago, whispering “I think he likes you…” We’ve been a fam since.
What we are doing here this week in India is indescribable magic on many levels. I don’t have the words, no one on the planet has the words to demystify or illustrate what is happening because it’s of a plane we can’t perceive. We’re drawn here; we show up, our lives change. We give it up to faith and hopefully have the groundedness within ourselves to judge what works and what doesn’t.
That being said, last night we closed a pretty special day one of a full on trainer course with 200 other people from a dozen different countries; we have five translators going at all times it’s so big. After deeksha’ing it up, we were told to hug the person next to us. This broke out into a spontaneous hugging/laughing/ecstasy session of emotion for everyone else involved for the next 10-15 minutes. Dri and I hugged. I told her I loved the feel of her 5-month bump when she pressed her tiny body to mine. (She says she’s taller—she says this to people we meet. I think I am. The fact of the matter is we are both very small brunettes, both eyes wide with the aforementioned mascara.) We stopped our hugging and looked around at that spontaneous emotion that erupted around us, seemingly apart from us.
We were in the front row, in a prime position. She said quite simply, and I couldn’t love her more for this: “This hugging is lasting quite long… should we sit and pretend that we’re done?... (20 seconds later, still awkwardly standing)… wow, that’s a lot of hugging.”
I don’t want to sound like a hugging curmudgeon. Of course, everyone has the absolute right to express this love in whichever way they feel, but on some level, I feel like I want to take back the woo a notch for those who wouldn’t feel comfortable hugging 30 strangers from different countries. (Imagine Obama hugging 30 random people—just not really his style, nor would we want it to be. We wouldn’t want it of Jon Stewart either, I’d imagine… I don’t think that the kind of guy I want to end up with would want to hug 30 strangers. Not a judgment, different strokes.) This resistance is not a bad thing; it is called discernment, which is also a valuable “spiritual” practice. A week ago, going over a thousands of years old meditation for some peeps, one of the key words was discernment, and I feel like this is being lost in this world of woo “seeking.”
As you know, although I draw from this tradition and there is much beauty there, I am not some zen Buddhist master who resonates with “nothingness” as the ultimate enlightened state. That’s too cold for me. I need sparkle. I need color. I need fire.
Earlier today, I stood, my feet so happily soaking in the softness of the white marble floor of a temple that I had wanted to come to for years. On the top five list of my life: children, husband, career success being three of the others, coming to this temple has been on my priority to do list since I heard it was being built. It was the screen saver in my blackberry for the last nine months and when I got here, all I could do was to marvel at how soft the white marble felt. I didn’t know it would be marble against my bare feet. I didn’t know it would be soft. I didn’t know that that would be a most delicious discovery.
There was a ceremony this morning, and I clapped, I sang, I raised my hands in prayer and gave thanks and soaked in the love—I participated willingly, happily, gratefully. I had some pretty awesome out-of and in body connections but I’ll gloss over those; I don’t want to brag. In my mind’s eye, this did not mean I had to go hug everyone in my path several hours later. (Although they call this place a “university” I’ve seen looser Ashrams. The teachers are dubbed guides, but in their language it is "dasas," monks with vows and the like… they are not allowed to hug and supposedly they are already feeling oodles of love with humanity. Discernment for different reasons, but still: Discernment.)
The most beautiful sentence someone could say to me in the whole world would not be, “Take my hand; let’s go to the ashram.” It would sound something more like: “We have 8pm reservations at (insert delectable downtown manhattan restaurant here; ) wear heels.”
We are so collectively…no, let me go back. Who am I really talking to here? I’m talking to the cool kids, the intellectuals, the pragmatists, the realists, the urbanites, the urbane. Which, is also, to some extent: us. And I find we are collectively terrified of the woo. We are terrified of something that is there to guide us.
A few of the people closest to me are dynamic and successful men with absolutely no spiritual bent. I cherish these relationships perhaps most of all because they challenge my beliefs and my faith (at this point impossible, sorry boys) but also provoke and confront my interpretations of these ideas forcing me to juggle semantics and explore scientifically and practically what I am really doing. I love these discourses, these challenges, these debates because they push me to clarify what this means for myself and helps me to express it in ways to people who might not otherwise listen. I would rather coax a banker to feel a minute of love than bring a yogi to three hours of ecstasy. The yogi doesn’t need me. Neither does the banker, but hey, I can be a fun gal to have around.
I rant about this now, because I want to claim this for my own, for our own, because if you are reading this, presumably we resonate with the same mindset in one way or another, on one topic or another. I want to find a new word for “spiritual” because this connection to yourself, to this peace, to a capability for love, and really that’s all it is, is for each of us. And not tapping into it is like having a million bucks in a bank account and not wanting to know the pin code to access it. It’s there. Whoever you are, whether you believe it or not.
A friend texted back an opinion about this optional sacred ceremony I have the opportunity to participate in here, that she did while in India. “It’s lovely, but not necessary.” For all of us: coming to India? It’s lovely, but not necessary. We can find those stolen moments of love, of peace, of generosity, of connection just as easily in a downtown restaurant. It doesn’t need to be spiritual. We don’t have to hug it out. But it’s there. It exists. In you. So look out for it. Because it’s there for you and only you. And the more you notice it, the more it shows up. That’s the way it works.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
fasten your seat belts/give peace a chance
Heavy duty drugs. Extortion. Police. Detectives. Hospitals. Nervous breakdowns. Panic attacks. Radiation. Lies. Violence. Stage 4 addictions. Denial. Eviction. Tears. Fighting. Resentment. Disappointment.
This was the daily bread of my last few weeks. I sat relatively calmly, distanced, in the eye of the storm, save two sobbing breakdowns to a nearest and a dearest, respectively, confined to two back-to-back phone calls, within a condensed half hour.
I am going to India in just over a week to take part in an advanced training and I was told by others to buckle in—that once that decision was made, tumult would follow as everything came up that needed resolving. I was hoping this would be along the lines of some past body image issues surfacing and maybe a remorseful late night Ben and Jerry’s binge. Perhaps an evening of too much vodka where I did something absolutely ridiculous and regretful at the close. Apparently I am past those hurdles and my stuff only comes in at primetime drama levels. The goings on could not be confined to a 60 minute "Law and Order" episode. We're nearing an entire season of a sequel to "The Wire" at this point.
In a series of dry, joking texts regarding my level-headedness, I told one friend that I was having plastic statues of me made, to hand out to others for worship. To another I insisted upon a medal, perhaps a trophy even, and that I wouldn’t be opposed to a parade. Clearly, I’m not that evolved yet.
But this isn’t just about me. Everyone I know has been going through extreme levels of change in the last few weeks, whether positive or negative, across the board, those closest to me have experienced unexpected break-ups, weddings, babies being born, homes being put on the market. People who haven’t been in a relationship for years suddenly finding love and huge jobs being granted—personal dramas of blockbuster proportions sweeping almost every single person I know.
I have received more “what’s up with the universe” calls, emails, texts, than I ever have in my life.
So what’s up?
Many of you are probably familiar with the whole 2012 phenom. The Mayans predicted thousands of years ago (and there are several others in varying traditions that correlate the same date) basically an end to humanity as we know it. The pessimists foretell of an apocalypse. Many more dub it a quantum leap of human consciousness; the year that humanity will evolve into a different way of being. I’ve heard that it will be a return to the “true balance between the divine feminine and masculine.”
This is not going to happen overnight, but there will be a tipping point in that year to where, we all, as a human race, essentially start to operate in a different way.
Old patterns of thought, conditioning, must be broken down in order to clear the space for a different idea. This can be painful. It can be voluntary or involuntary. If you are not ready to embrace the change yourself, the world will push you toward it. Fasten your seat belt. This ascent into collective a new way of thinking is reflected in our society and our world on every level. Obama. The BP Oil Spill. Interest and insistence for all things green from countertop sprays to our local produce. The near-manic levels of excitement in anticipation of the release of “Eat Pray Love,” the movie.
You might think the entire 2012 prediction is a load of nonsense. Philosophic discourse, spiritual enlightenment, these are luxurious discussions, and we should indeed be grateful that such a debate can exist in our lives. Whether or not someone wants to get caught up in semantics regarding evolution or the divine, it is undeniable that there is great change taking place. The totally terrific part of it is that there is no need to be concerned with anything on a global level—everything begins at home.
Some of the teachings I have been ingesting in the last few years include dialogue of: “What can I do to change the world?”
“If you can love your family, you can change the world. That is not as simple as it appears.”
And
“The measure of fulfillment in our experience is dependant on how comfortable we are with ourselves… being comfortable with yourself is the true measure of growth.”
The only thing we have the ability to change is ourselves, and this is enough. And we don’t necessarily need to change, if your go-to state is love, generosity, compassion, peace… congratulations—let’s build you a temple. (with a giftshop that sells agave sweetened cupcakes, preferably)
I know I’m a cheerleader for the woo. The reason for it is because all of this has changed my life, my relation to peace within myself and those around me so drastically that I can’t help but want to spread the love. It’s not easy to shift our perspectives, but it also isn’t complicated. All joking about parades and plastic statues a la Ganesha aside, as my family was melting down around me (and they had EVERY reason and right to) I remained, for all intents and purposes, pretty chill the whole time. And when not chill, I wasn’t caught up in the drama or my reaction to it, I was just allowing it to pass. I'm not saying I was a perfect floating cloud of love and compassion showering hersey kisses and sparklers at each and every moment, but I did not not make things more difficult with my own b.s. I did not burden others with my drama, save for giving an outline to my closest friends. I did not head straight to the bar. I did not jump off a bridge.
We don’t choose what comes into our life. We only choose how we react to it. There are the small, daily ways that we can facilitate all of our growth and evolution into a new way of being. We're all free to pick and choose the path that feels yummiest. Eventually these things build so that when the hammer falls, we are ready and grounded. When life gets to epic proportions and the idea of self-pity crosses my mind, I remind myself: You wanted a roller-coaster, sweetie. Here it is. Hang on for the ride.
Don't take my word for it...:
“Each one has to find his peace from within. And peace to be real must be unaffected by outside circumstances.”
-Mahatma Gandhi
“The more you sweat in peacetime, the less you bleed during war.”
-Chinese Proverb
“Peace is not only better than war, but infinitely more arduous.”
-George Bernard Shaw
“Peace is a daily, a weekly, a monthly process, gradually changing opinions, slowly eroding old barriers, quietly building new structures.”
-John F. Kennedy
"If half a century of living has taught me anything at all, it has taught me that nothing can bring you peace but yourself. "
-Dale Carnegie
"Ev'rybody's talking about
Bagism, Shagism, Dragism, Madism,
Ragism, Tagism
This-ism, That-ism, is-m, is-m, is-m
All we are saying is give peace a chance."
-The Beatles
This was the daily bread of my last few weeks. I sat relatively calmly, distanced, in the eye of the storm, save two sobbing breakdowns to a nearest and a dearest, respectively, confined to two back-to-back phone calls, within a condensed half hour.
I am going to India in just over a week to take part in an advanced training and I was told by others to buckle in—that once that decision was made, tumult would follow as everything came up that needed resolving. I was hoping this would be along the lines of some past body image issues surfacing and maybe a remorseful late night Ben and Jerry’s binge. Perhaps an evening of too much vodka where I did something absolutely ridiculous and regretful at the close. Apparently I am past those hurdles and my stuff only comes in at primetime drama levels. The goings on could not be confined to a 60 minute "Law and Order" episode. We're nearing an entire season of a sequel to "The Wire" at this point.
In a series of dry, joking texts regarding my level-headedness, I told one friend that I was having plastic statues of me made, to hand out to others for worship. To another I insisted upon a medal, perhaps a trophy even, and that I wouldn’t be opposed to a parade. Clearly, I’m not that evolved yet.
But this isn’t just about me. Everyone I know has been going through extreme levels of change in the last few weeks, whether positive or negative, across the board, those closest to me have experienced unexpected break-ups, weddings, babies being born, homes being put on the market. People who haven’t been in a relationship for years suddenly finding love and huge jobs being granted—personal dramas of blockbuster proportions sweeping almost every single person I know.
I have received more “what’s up with the universe” calls, emails, texts, than I ever have in my life.
So what’s up?
Many of you are probably familiar with the whole 2012 phenom. The Mayans predicted thousands of years ago (and there are several others in varying traditions that correlate the same date) basically an end to humanity as we know it. The pessimists foretell of an apocalypse. Many more dub it a quantum leap of human consciousness; the year that humanity will evolve into a different way of being. I’ve heard that it will be a return to the “true balance between the divine feminine and masculine.”
This is not going to happen overnight, but there will be a tipping point in that year to where, we all, as a human race, essentially start to operate in a different way.
Old patterns of thought, conditioning, must be broken down in order to clear the space for a different idea. This can be painful. It can be voluntary or involuntary. If you are not ready to embrace the change yourself, the world will push you toward it. Fasten your seat belt. This ascent into collective a new way of thinking is reflected in our society and our world on every level. Obama. The BP Oil Spill. Interest and insistence for all things green from countertop sprays to our local produce. The near-manic levels of excitement in anticipation of the release of “Eat Pray Love,” the movie.
You might think the entire 2012 prediction is a load of nonsense. Philosophic discourse, spiritual enlightenment, these are luxurious discussions, and we should indeed be grateful that such a debate can exist in our lives. Whether or not someone wants to get caught up in semantics regarding evolution or the divine, it is undeniable that there is great change taking place. The totally terrific part of it is that there is no need to be concerned with anything on a global level—everything begins at home.
Some of the teachings I have been ingesting in the last few years include dialogue of: “What can I do to change the world?”
“If you can love your family, you can change the world. That is not as simple as it appears.”
And
“The measure of fulfillment in our experience is dependant on how comfortable we are with ourselves… being comfortable with yourself is the true measure of growth.”
The only thing we have the ability to change is ourselves, and this is enough. And we don’t necessarily need to change, if your go-to state is love, generosity, compassion, peace… congratulations—let’s build you a temple. (with a giftshop that sells agave sweetened cupcakes, preferably)
I know I’m a cheerleader for the woo. The reason for it is because all of this has changed my life, my relation to peace within myself and those around me so drastically that I can’t help but want to spread the love. It’s not easy to shift our perspectives, but it also isn’t complicated. All joking about parades and plastic statues a la Ganesha aside, as my family was melting down around me (and they had EVERY reason and right to) I remained, for all intents and purposes, pretty chill the whole time. And when not chill, I wasn’t caught up in the drama or my reaction to it, I was just allowing it to pass. I'm not saying I was a perfect floating cloud of love and compassion showering hersey kisses and sparklers at each and every moment, but I did not not make things more difficult with my own b.s. I did not burden others with my drama, save for giving an outline to my closest friends. I did not head straight to the bar. I did not jump off a bridge.
We don’t choose what comes into our life. We only choose how we react to it. There are the small, daily ways that we can facilitate all of our growth and evolution into a new way of being. We're all free to pick and choose the path that feels yummiest. Eventually these things build so that when the hammer falls, we are ready and grounded. When life gets to epic proportions and the idea of self-pity crosses my mind, I remind myself: You wanted a roller-coaster, sweetie. Here it is. Hang on for the ride.
Don't take my word for it...:
“Each one has to find his peace from within. And peace to be real must be unaffected by outside circumstances.”
-Mahatma Gandhi
“The more you sweat in peacetime, the less you bleed during war.”
-Chinese Proverb
“Peace is not only better than war, but infinitely more arduous.”
-George Bernard Shaw
“Peace is a daily, a weekly, a monthly process, gradually changing opinions, slowly eroding old barriers, quietly building new structures.”
-John F. Kennedy
"If half a century of living has taught me anything at all, it has taught me that nothing can bring you peace but yourself. "
-Dale Carnegie
"Ev'rybody's talking about
Bagism, Shagism, Dragism, Madism,
Ragism, Tagism
This-ism, That-ism, is-m, is-m, is-m
All we are saying is give peace a chance."
-The Beatles
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