the amazeballs muchacho of authenticity

When I was in Chicago last month, I was to meet my sister’s boyfriend. I don’t need to get into specifics, but let’s just acknowledge that my mom won’t even consider an introduction. She refuses to accept that they are together and wholeheartedly disapproves of the entire situation. Mom’s kinda playing the old-school, unfair, crazypants card here, but so it is.

My sister is in love. No one can dissuade another from being in love. However, that does not stop my mother from continually trying to get me to instead push my sister to date the son of the sausage king of Chicago, whose own mother once met my sister and has been dropping the son as bait ever since... (I did mention both that my sister already has a boyfriend and that reason has yet to arrive in these proceedings, right…?)

This whole family balancing was an interesting, precarious, Jenga process of assemblage because it made me question my own judgments, expectations of what I want sis’s boyfriend (now, maybe perhaps potential future husband?) to be to (oh so selfish) me; it shined a Fresnel on the structures of the mind for prissy, pretty mags. Rather than pre-define him by my societal or cultural prejudices, I wanted to be clear on what my sister deserves and so first I had to define what that is.

I want any boyfriend/potential husband to be sophisticated, well-read, sharp, liberal, charming and most definitely funny, because really, his sole purpose at proposed future familial excursions is to keep me entertained. And he’d get big points, of course, if he owned a beach house. Big points.

Ok, so once I got the nonsense of what this little “mags” body thinks she wants for her sister, I thought I’d get real and take some time to think about what was important for her. What do you want for those you hold dear?

People might say: All I want for them is to be happy.

But, sometimes don’t we see people who are “happy in love” and yet something doesn’t smell quite right? They aren’t really the fullest expression of themselves while in love with that person or perhaps they’re sacrificing an innate part of their core to be with him/her? And you/I/we, in turn, miss that person?

In my musings, I think what’s key is to have someone to turn you on. And I (for once) am not talking about sex here. Does my sister’s boyfriend bring out the best in her? Is she the most grounded, light, fun, giving, and dependable version of herself both with him and outside of their time together? Are her priorities in order? Or is she taking on his characteristics, bending to be in his world?

The same questions can be applied to a spiritual person or practice. A lotta people can get wrapped up in something “woo,” and we think, um, where’d they go?

I had lunch with a colleague (a beautiful teacher in Chicago) and she spoke of people being able to traverse dimensions and go to different planes of consciousness. That’s cool and all, but my wiring is practical. I want to be here. When the last guy I was dating expressed a distaste for the woo making people float in lala land, or live in some kind of alternate reality, I determinedly responded, “I don’t want to be anywhere else! I love New York.” I’m not reaching for the clouds. I’m grounding to the pavement. (and it’s sparkly in New York, btw, have you noticed?)

When you first meet someone who’s enlightened, it’s kinda disappointing. Unless you have a previously bestowed love for them or you’re far enough in your development to be sensitive to higher frequencies and can tap into that kind of vibration, usually they’re just lumps of bones and mass, all ordinary.

You want them to be all, like, walking on water with firecrackers shooting out of their forehead, and you end up on a cold, damp floor in a four-foot cave across the world, or at a lecture in midtown, and see this little person sitting there all normal and scratching their nose, and maybe (depending on how “famous” they are), dozens of people around ‘em perhaps fanning or primping pillows for him/her, and think… This is it? What’s the deal here? Unless they are tapped into a deep meditative state or some such, when they are hanging around they are doing just that—hanging.

It’s a little disarming at first because we want them to be so much jazzier. We think every moment of life, particularly in the presence of the “enlightened,” should look like it’s been bedazzled within a millimeter of itself. When we asked monks in Fiji and India what they do when they’re not teaching, you know what their answer was? “We really like action movies.” “We have huge games of cricket.” They’re on Facebook.

With all the enlightened folk that I’ve come into contact with, and I am so so grateful that there have been many, here’s the common thread. They’re just regular. If there is any spangly brouhaha surrounding them, they are not organizing it—they just happen to be in the middle of it. When the ordinary is spectacular, that’s when you’re awake.

There’s the old zen adage, the finger pointing at the moon is not the moon.

If you’ve found a teacher (or a lover,) when you are in their presence, no one else exists; the rest of the world falls away. But they are not the moon, they are the pointer. The moon is you… their job is to bring out the best in you. The real you. Eventually the rest of your world falls away and you encompass that “now-ness” for yourself and others.

It’s only natural and enjoyable, that in the early flush of a relationship, romantic or spiritual, we take on the characteristics of our new love. This is part of the excitement that this kind of discovery can bring to us and provides a fun and connective texture to our lives.

My sister is peppering up her lexicon with Spanish words, so we got a “muchacho” spiced in here and there. With her last boyfriend they liked to call each other “lover” over and over again, with varying degrees of emphasis, unendingly, in public. (Needless to say, I am really. really. really. happy that phase is over.) My friends toss around “amazeballs.” The spiritual vocab a la mode is “authentic,” it used to be “prosperous.”

The communities we choose are reflected not only in our vocabulary, but in our dress (Converse, barefoot, Louboutains?), stomping grounds (the bar, the temple) and sport teams (insert yours here.)

But it seems the fine line between fanaticism and devotion, between blinded love and a healthy relationship comes down to is: Is it bringing out the best in you and is it bringing out the real you? Are you attached to the finger (the teacher, the lover) or are you looking to the moon? (yourself. shinier. the ultimate inner bedazzle)

After I wrote this, I found the most emailed article in the New York Times in the last couple of days has been “The Happy Marriage is the ’Me’ Marriage.” It basically posits that helping each other’s self-expansion is what makes a happy marriage. Not a successful marriage. A happy one. Does the other person fuel your growth? (This was THE MOST emailed article in the New York Times for the last five days straight. Not politics, weight loss, will iPhone finally come to Verizon, or what’s the hottest new restaurant of 2011…nope, self-expansion. Times are a changing… but I digress.)

Everything is a process. I’ve been involved in plenty of relationships that weren’t supporting my higher good, and when I first found yoga, was so loud-mouthed about it I’m surprised I didn’t get slapped around. For all of us, of course, there is no wrong place, no wrong way to do it. There are appropriate times to hibernate in introspection or even get lost in a flurry of sex. But ultimately? Ultimately we want to get to the place where “muchacho” is a spice and not the main enchilada. Is the "muchacho" a life raft, helping us to cling to where we are, what we know? Or is it the key to our self-expansion?

It’s difficult to allow ourselves to get uncomfortable. We want it to be warm and fuzzy, familiar, easy. It’s only when we get out of the comfort zone, when we reach, confront the pretty or the ugly, that change takes place. This is the key point to distinguish—are we holding on to pleasure because it’s familiar?

By the same token, if we’re reaching for the shiny (yes, please! reach!) but there is still discomfort/pain/longing that arises, there’s just simply more to do. No biggie. Just a fact of life. “Your head has more mountain to climb.” We want to get to the point where sitting and scratching our nose is enough of a bedazzlement. Where authenticity to ourselves is not about us doing what we want, but us being ok with where we are. If not yet here, the “yay!” happiness follows. Promise.

I was asked to write an article for the (lovely, right on) www.amareway.org site about authentic happiness and this is the main essence of it all.

We can have our muchacho and eat it too. We want to have the moon, but at some point we need to let go of the finger. The ultimate universal relationship isn’t with our lover or our guru, it’s with ourselves. That’s why the self-expansion makes you happy in a relationship, it’s for you. Until we can be real to every moment, we need to be real to what’s within. That’s when happy arrives. And maybe it’s wearing a sombrero.