The distant place that lies within.

The expression, “Home is where the heart is,” suggests that our home is in union with another. The problem with that understanding is our sense of home is then wedded to the other’s well-being. So long as that union is well, our well-being will be good. However, the opposite is also true. Tying yourself to another can be dangerous, especially when the other jeopardizes our sense of stability and wholeness.

Another perspective is more favorably secure: the perspective that home lies within, right where your spiritual heart exists. The first view can be problematic, but so too can the latter. It all depends on how we understand and experience ourselves. If our view is one of self-love, that is one thing. If our view is self-hatred, that is even more dangerous than the first. In either case, wherever we go, we go with ourselves.

Both self-love and self-hatred can and do vary according to changing circumstances—everything of a mortal nature is constantly changing, and no one can stop that flow of mortal change. Consequently, it is necessary to look beyond mortality to get to the root of the matter.

Three different spiritual teachings point us to the resolution. The first comes from a familiar source (The teaching of Christ, as expressed by St.Paul the Apostle). The second and third sources are less familiar but dovetail with that of The Apostle. Let’s start with the second, move on to the third, and check back in to conclude with St.Paul.

“We are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a human experience.”—Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, the French philosopher, paleontologist, and Jesuit priest who thought deeply about the meaning of our existence and relationship with the Divine. Chardin held this unorthodox view that within our mortal shell was our true home. Accepting this perspective changes how we understand ourselves (and others) from a constantly evolving mortal being that ends in death to a never-changing immortal being that never ends.

The third source comes from one of the greatest spiritual poets, artists, and educational theorists who won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1913 (Rabindranath Tagore). Few in the West have heard of Tagore, but he shared de Chardin’s perspective and conveyed his view through many of his works, not the least of which is his poem Journey Home.

“The time that my journey takes is long, and the way of it is long.

I came out on the chariot of the first gleam of light and pursued my

Voyage through the wildernesses of worlds, leaving my track on many a star and planet.

It is the most distant course that comes nearest to thyself,

and that training is the most intricate, leading to a tune’s utter simplicity.

The traveler has to knock at every alien door to come to his own,

and one has to wander through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost shrine at the end.

My eyes strayed far and wide before I shut them and said, ‘Here art thou!’

The question and the cry ‘Oh, where?’ melt into tears of a thousand

Streams and deluge the world with the flood of the assurance ‘I am!’”

Like de Chardin, Tagore was persuaded that the discovery of our true home—the one of spiritual essence—only came about through a quest within, where we find our eternal source.

Now, to tie all three together, let’s examine what St. Paul had to say in the book of 1 Corinthians. He said (metaphorically), “You are the body of Christ. Each one of you is a part of it” (the concluding point of 1 Corinthians 12:12-27). Still, when taken literally, it unites with the other two perspectives that our true home—the one we can never leave lies at our spiritual core. There, alone, all of us can find the eternal spirit of love—our Divine essence. And when we see that core, we know that our essence is the same as the Divine. Short of that, we are all left with a self-understanding that bobs and weaves like a cork tossed about on the waves of change, sometimes loving and at other times with hatred. God is undivided love, and that is us.

Playing the hand we’re dealt.

Two sides: Winning and losing.

Many years ago, my Zen teacher told me: “Once you open your eyes, without bias, you’ll be amazed how many lessons of wisdom life will show you.” Little did I know at the early time just how true his counsel would be.

It is doubtful that any of us are dealt a flawless hand when we enter this mortal world. There are always a few losing cards, even in the best of hands. It isn’t nearly as important what we are dealt with but how we play that hand.

I learned how to play the bridge game even before I met my teacher and played as well as possible. Subsequently, we met; I took a sustained hiatus from the game and came back much later, following his wise counsel. I then began to play again and learned a wise lesson from that game that applies to life in general. That wise lesson was concerned with how to play the game of bridge and the game of life. And the lesson is this: If you are aware of the losing cards (that’s easier once you lose your biases—many people pretend to have no flaws), lose them early in the game—you’ll lose them anyway, so it’s always better to lose early.

The wisdom of losing early has multiple ripple effects across what comes next. One of the most important ripples is when you lose anything, you will empathize with others who also lose (everyone does sooner or later). And armed with that sense of empathy, you will be enabled to lend a hand to others who suffer later in your game. To lose late in the game may teach the same lesson, but you will have less mortal time left to apply the lesson, and the wisdom will be of little value, except to you. Doing good (not just talking good) in this life will then carry on into your next incarnation: Fewer beginning losers next time around.

A related lesson came to me from a member of our bridge club. Dear Gerry often said, “I don’t mind if I lose because when I lose, someone else wins.” She was a kind (yet competitive) player who taught me that losing wasn’t so bad, and that lesson relates to the first. Losing is just the other side of the coin of winning, and if we don’t give up during those losing times, the tide will eventually turn, and you’ll win again. But when you lose, you will know what it feels like and see life with the eyes of compassion and wisdom. And that lesson of never giving up (e.g., perseverance through thick and thin) is very wise as well. Why? Because most players of this game of life will relent first. And then, even if you have a losing hand, you’ll win by default. If the rabbit stops before the finish line—even if he is an inch away—the turtle will first cross. 

When life throws you the ball of losing, consider it a blessing, be grateful, and catch it. There are fewer lessons more important than knowing how to play the cards life deals you.

COVID—Life/Death, and alleviation of fear.

Life, death, and fear.

Nowadays, there is not only a spike in the incidence of COIVD infections (and resulting mortal death), but there is a corresponding spike in emotional distress and fear. According to extensive research of this correspondent relationship—on a global basis—as the pandemic increases, so too does fear. 

Everyone knows that mortal death is inevitable. Sooner or later, the “Grim Reaper” will visit us all. Nobody gets out of here alive, so the saying goes. This latter is the primary source of ultimate fear. Why? Because (1) We all think that our existence is equal to our body, (2) We thus believe that when the body dies, we will die, (3) The same holds true for our loved ones, and (4) We have attached our sense of stability and well-being to the mortal existence of something or someone. Nobody (and no-thing) gets out of here alive. The ground upon which our perceived sense of self exists is quick-sand—it is in a state of continuous change, and we know it (but choose to ignore it).

“Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.” Some dispute the source of that observation, but regardless, it is on target. And one of those (e.g., truth) is at the core of understanding this correspondence. There are two aspects of the truth: What is, in fact, true, and the opposite; what is factually false. If we think falsely about this correspondence, our sense of stability and well-being will be false. And the opposite is likewise correct—If we think truthfully about this correspondence, our sense of stability and well-being will follow suit.

We have failed to understand this fundamental truth, this ground-level basis of well-being: We are either just a mortal body or something different. If just a mortal body, then it follows there is a solid justification for fear. However, if we are something different, then that something-different is not mortal and can’t die. The former position results in fear, while the latter results in the sense of tranquility, peace, and a lack of fear.

Therefore we are all faced (increasingly so during this pandemic) with an unavoidable dilemma between a choice for fear or a choice for peace. Both (e.g., fear and a sense of lasting peace) are subject to thoughts and emotions. “We are shaped by our thoughts; we become what we think. When the mind is pure, joy follows like a shadow that never leaves.” 

If we think we are just a mortal shell (which will die), there is no joy. But if we think we are the spirit that resides within that shell, then fear goes away. The mortal shell is like a born-guest, moves from place to place, changes all of the time, and one day dies. But the spirit living within that mortal shell is like a host, which is never born, never moves (or changes), and can’t die. 

How we understand true life and false life determines everything. And there is no better kick in the behind—the prodding stick that compels us to seek a solution than being in a state of fear and misery, both of which are spiking sharply right now, regardless of affiliations politically, religiously, ideologically, nationally…any and every other defining method…And there is no longer the ordinary excuse (e.g., I don’t have time) for not thoroughly examining who and what we are. We have an abundant amount of time on our hands, and many of us are confined to quarters—socially distant, in solitary confinement. If there were ever an ideal set of time, place, and circumstances, this time, this place, and this set of circumstances, must be “prime-time.” 

It ain't my job!

Some years ago, my teacher painted calligraphy for me that said, “A single drop of rain waters 10,000 pines.” While not literally true, it was a metaphor that spoke to this idea that all it takes is one ray of light to cut through the darkness and open up the possibility that other lights will follow. This morning I came across a similar expression: “Everything was impossible until someone did it.” I like that idea, but unfortunately, too often, many essential matters remain impossible because we are waiting for someone else to do what is needed.

Maybe it is just human nature to have this attitude that it ain’t my job and assume that what needs doing is undoubtedly being done by somebody else. But is that assumption correct? It’s been my experience during a reasonably long life that the premise is wrong. The evidence of the fallacy is everywhere around us. I see it with the growing volume of mail asking for donations to help those in need. The lines of people standing in soup kitchens keep growing while wealthy politicians suck the financial life of our nation off for themselves and make decisions to cut off support for the needy. I’ve seen it since childhood when I noticed people going to church and listening intently (or so it seemed) to sermons but then going on with their ordinary lives of selfishness. The earth’s atmosphere keeps getting hotter and hotter, and many people stay in states of denial for the same reason—surely somebody else will solve this problem. Still, the prevailing attitude of, I’m too busy with more important matters remains a dominant force.

I remember a story from childhood about the little red hen who kept asking for help baking her bread, and nobody offered assistance, yet when it came time to eat, everyone wanted a portion. Then, of course, there is the Aesop Fable of the grasshopper and the ants. The grasshopper played away the time of harvest while the ants stored food away for the hard times of winter. Then there is the story of a dog in the manger who wouldn’t eat what was offered but sure as heck didn’t want to share what he saw as “his.” Supposedly Aesop lived roughly 2,600 years ago in ancient Greece. The dog in the manger story appeared in both the apocryphal Gospel of Thomas and the Gospel of Matthew, so it would appear that human nature hasn’t changed much in a long time.

In the East, it is called karma. Colloquially we have the expression, “What goes around, comes around.” The principle addresses what follows actions (either for the good or bad) and is universal, regardless of time or place. We know the guide yet mostly ignore the wisdom. The question is, why? More than likely, the answer comes from a conflict between continuously changing conditions and priorities stuck in time. When sea changes occur, we all have the choice either clinging to preferences that fall in the grand scheme or adapting.

I’ve written about this latter matter and observed, “The first step toward success is taken when you refuse to be a captive of the environment in which you first find yourself.” You can read about it in my post of Small Steps. Nobody can drink the whole ocean at once, but one sip followed by another, with patience and perseverance, enables us to move mountains.

The point of my post this morning is that our assumptions are, more times than not, merely delusional. What needs to be done to make our world a habitable and desirable place to live for our selves and our loved ones into the future depends on what we do today because collectively, we are creating our tomorrows’ moment by moment. Each day we have the opportunity to create a better world or a worse one. We make either heaven or hell with a single drop of rain, or not. Every positive action, however small it may be, makes a difference. Contrary to the title of this post, it is my job, because there is nobody but me’s of this world to do it.

Knowing right from wrong?

The essential question.

I originally posted this years ago, but we have short memories so re-posting may not be a bad thing. The current political environment almost demands a review. 

Do you? Know right from wrong? That’s a moral question, not one of legality. As we well know, we have a leader, who might be complying with the letter of the law (and fleecing his sheep to their detriment), yet undermines the intent of the law. 

In a court of law, we are told that not knowing the law is no excuse for breaking one that we may not even know exists. Worse yet is when we do know, but manipulate the system for your own enrichment, at the expense of the sheep. Even when the law is known, it may be consciously broken, allegedly for reasons considered to be valid. And what do we mean by valid? For a higher good that transcends the strict definition of legal compliance? For reasons of making a judgment call that may violate a conscious awareness of our internal criteria, but nevertheless “may” have a desirable outcome? What sort of definition might we hold of “desirable?”

A person may choose to live by the spirit of that law instead of the letter of the law, which of course, presumes the person is aware of whatever difference may exist between the spirit (or intent) and the letter (strict compliance). 

Then we need to consider prescience: the capacity to project into the future, outcomes that will occur as the result of judgments and actions taken previously. Can anyone know the ultimate effects? Obviously not (unless they are an inside trader). Then comes a much deeper question: Is there any benefit to outcomes that turn out to be not what we intended, but rather are what we consider to be wrong? Or might unlawful results lead to further right outcomes? That is the essential question!

Knowing right from wrong is a highly complex moral dilemma that must begin by examining that essential issue. Parents must wrestle with that issue every moment of every day and, most times, end up rolling the dice and hoping that their decisions result is the right things for their children. 

Politicians (at least ones with a conscience—an oxymoron?) are challenged routinely with making choices without thorough consideration or prescience, and more times than not, wrong results come from allegedly right decisions. For whom? Their benefactors? Themselves (at the expense of their constituents)?

Family members likewise are forced by the nature of a constantly changing world to choose between what they believe to be right, but often turn out in wrong ways. Are parents doing their children favors by never allowing them to struggle with the challenges of life to cope as adults? Or by overly protecting them and serving as surrogate moralists, once they have grown to the age of emancipation? 

Do we choose to construct walls between what we want the world to be and what it is? And do we then take the next step of letting our loved ones know that we only want to be fed a constant diet of nice words and deeds, forgetting that by employing their culpability and compliance, it forces them into conscious liars? Do we ever extract our benefit out of the hides of those we recruit, all so that we may live a life of delusion and division between what we wish and what is? And then, do we have the willingness to admit obvious wrongdoing with the forethought that by owning up, our egos will burn with a furious fire that creates in us the discomfort of admitting we used others for our benefit at their expense? 

Does anyone actually embrace what they consider to be wrong, suspecting that there will be a positive outcome? Or isn’t it true that we become strong in places that are broken, and by struggling to overcome our brokenness, we are made stronger yet? Few there are who enjoy being with someone who is always on guard, never vulnerable, and has all the answers. Life breaks us all, vulnerable or not, but beauty can come from brokenness, making us yet more beautiful than before.

It is probably true that few, if any, ever set out to do wrong, knowingly. And it is without any doubt that by facing our deepest fears, we learn to live with fear and make it our greatest friend and teacher.

The Road Less Traveled to Tipperary.

The mortal Tipperary.

“It’s a Long Way to Tipperary.” Henry James “Harry” Williams wrote that song (heard at this link) back in 1912 and it became popular during the “War to end all wars”—WWI. 

As we know it didn’t end all wars but instead set the stage for the next World War, as all wars do. They never end, the carnage continues, unabated, and we never seem to learn the needed lessons of why wars exist at all.

The greatest war—the one that will end all wars, is an internal war (the ultimate battle) and involves identity and mis-identity: the battle between the ego (the great impostor) and our real, hidden nature that lies dormant awaiting discovery. Many great pieces of literature have been written about this internal battle, not the least of which is The Bhagavad Gita. But we, in the West, remain mostly unaware of such wisdom and thus continue fighting the wrong wars—the mortal ones—that continue forever.

I went through that internal war (as well as an external one—The Vietnam War that damaged me for the rest of my mortal life) and experienced the battle that awakened me to the real, hidden me, but it was a Long Way to Tipperary—that stretched from my ordinary road of seeking fleeting mortal success, hitting the road-bump that brought into question that pursuit, arrived at the critical juncture of choosing to stay on that road to nowhere (with utter familiarity) or going down that other road to fear, trembling, ego confrontation, THE battle, and final victory. 

It wasn’t fun and honestly, there were many times when I asked myself “what the hell have I gotten myself into?” Tipperary, in this case, was finding that internal, hidden treasure. After that, I reached another crossroads and had to choose again, which road I would follow, and which I would thus leave behind. What I never considered when I made the first choice to travel that road less traveled was there were some really bad demons waiting to ambush me down that path,  and facing and regurgitating all of the misery I had buried within. 

But to get to the hidden treasure, by necessity, entailed reaching further, down into the deepest mud of consciousness, where both the demons and the angels co-existed. I had no other choice than the one that led to the ever-increasing internal space of darkness. Consequently, it was a dice-roll with both demons and angels coming along as a package deal, at the same time. And eventually, these splitting paths came out onto a meadow: a point of union, that was bathed in pure, vibrant light. But when that battle first began, I didn't know convergence would ever occur.  Thus the lid on Pandora’s Box was thrown open and the demons attacked with a vengeance.

I came to know, gradually, that the previous pursuit—the ordinary mortal one—was leading me step by step to complete despair and the inescapable conclusion that I had invested 40 years of my life building a castle in the sky. I had a lot of skin in that game and it was extraordinarily hard to fess up to making wrong choices. My ego hated that confession (it never wants to acknowledge error and doubles down with the mantra of “if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again”) and if I had been willing to see clearly earlier I would have come to that juncture sooner. 

But I didn’t but bought into that programmed mantra. After all, a Marine never quits, and sadly most never know when to quit. Sometimes it is better to retreat and fight another day. The question is not to fight (or not) but rather the question is choosing the right war to fight. It’s the same for us all. Which one do we choose? The one that never ends? Or the war that will end all wars and does lead to Tipperary. But, the road to that meadow of light had to go through darkness and into a new world!

Mea culpa

Immortality awaits all.

I have a confession, admittedly late, but “better late than never.” My disclosure arises from the convergence of my current senior stage of a decaying body and reading a book by RamDass: Still Here—Embracing Aging, Changing, and Dying, in which he emphasizes an essential point (which should be obvious) that all of us will naturally experience aging, changing, and dying. Therefore, the nearer we are to the end of our “mortal house,” the more we need to appropriately shift our focus onto “embracing the immortal soul.”

And the reason for that appropriate shift is because, at the point of leaving our mortal house, whatever unfinished business we have (e.g., unresolved, unforgiving, righting wrongs, etc.) becomes the starting point of our next human incarnation. Karma either works for our mortality or against it. The components of the “karmic seeds” (Vāsanā (Sanskrit; Devanagari: वासना)) with which we die in the previous life determines the starting point (our lessons to be learned) in the next mortal incarnation. Therefore, since no-mortal-body can predict the future, none can, with any accuracy, say when that portal moment will come when the soul leaves and returns to God.

Every thought, every word, every action carries its’ own power. Karmic seeds contain an imprint from all cumulative past, thoughts, words, and actions. They can be positive, negative, or neutral. As mortals, every moment, we are experiencing the karma of the past and are creating karma for the future. That is one of the most fundamental premises of a reincarnation perspective: It is the soul (carrying with it karmic seeds) that migrates, activates, and determines the challenges for our next mortality. 

It is, therefore, imperative that we “put our house in order” each fleeting moment because until we pay our karmic debt during mortal incarnations, we will continue in various Samsaric forms, replete with suffering. Samsara is considered to be mortal, unsatisfactory, and painful, perpetuated through attachment and ignorance. The great paradox is that it is solving the suffering dilemma that leads us all to reach beyond mortality to immortality. No suffering; no motivation to reach beyond. So long as we stay locked in a state of denial, refusing to acknowledge our mortal flaws, the more bad karma we create.

The goal of mortal life is thus “…to work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.” And yes, I intentionally inserted a passage from the Bible (Philippians 2:12-13) into this karmic pattern because the pattern is transcendent to all religious venues. The wording may change from one religion to another. Still, the karmic message is always there, one way or another—a traveling soul, moving away from greed, anger, and delusion (characteristics of the ego) and toward Heaven, Nirvana, or whatever term you choose to represent the great cosmic sea of spiritual unity.

Why fear and trembling? Because to dissolve ego attachments, we must first confess our errors (most importantly to ourselves), and working through those issues is cobbled together with fear and trembling. We only resolve problems we acknowledge. Addressing our most profound, darkest failings requires that we surface them, face-on, (which the ego detests, choosing instead to deny any weaknesses). A person who claims to have no flaws, for certainty, has many, albeit perhaps unconsciously. However, conscious or not, it is impossible to live a mortal life without error. This acknowledgment comes as the very first of the Buddha’s Four Noble Truths—Conditional life is suffering. 

As a human race, we have acknowledged this with the expression: “To err is human, to forgive divine.” That’s a long-winded prelude to my confession—putting my house in order. My disclosure is that in contributing to this blog I have (out of ignorance and karma) been excessively preoccupied with my ego by quoting the work of other sages and seers in the pursuit of establishing “myself” as a well-read and thus wise teacher (with no credentials at all—A True Man With no Rank). I have forgotten a primary lesson of dharma attachment. And in my forgetful, ignorant fashion have become attached to the need to persuade you, my readers, with how wise I am. 

I wanted you to know that I knew what I was talking about. I saw it necessary to impress you with the wealth of my experience, reading, knowledge, and assimilation, thus enhancing my ego and, in the process, creating more bad karma—I have been shooting myself in the foot. That’s my mea culpa moment of critical awareness—Thank you RamDass. So now I must continue for the rest of this present incarnation, by freeing myself of the need to impress you and thus become more soul-real, sans impressions.

What I intend to do, from this point on, is to become more acquainted with my soul and begin to let go of attachments to my ego. It is the migration of the soul that reaches forward to freedom from suffering and to the end of this continuing process of almost endless affliction. And to…work out my own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in me, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.

The nature of God is unconditional, whereas the nature of mortality is conditional. As I age, the more I can see just how provisional and precarious my ego and body are. As my mortality fails, with increasing infirmities, I draw closer to immortality. As “I” become weaker, God manifests greatly. “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 

“I” am moving closer to the ending than the beginning of this current mortal incarnation. The mortal aspect of us all is the part that ages, changes, suffers, and dies, and it is the house of the soul, which leaves our mortality on a metaphorical ship, sailing into the immortal sea of unity. It is the nature of immortality that lacks aging, changing, suffering, and dying. That is the goal of every soul, whether known or not. All souls are a piece of the fabric of unity (the ground of all being) that we call life, and all souls reach toward freedom. But once we attain freedom, we must let go of ego-attachments and begin relating to other mortal incarnations at the level of their soul instead of the level of our incomplete mutual natures (e.g., “egos”) which are always functioning out of karmic seeds and growing into plants of perceptible insecurity.