Sometimes my past haunts me. The person I am is made up primarily of what I have done in the past. But that can be a burden. Sometimes I think we carry our past with us like a pack on our back. All that "stuff" whether we like it or not, is part of us. But, thankfully, it is not the totality of who we are. Because who we are includes what we do and think in the present moment.
It is also the moment we are in right now, the one that has not yet slipped into the past where we make the momentous decision to change. If we are ever going to set down our baggage and move beyond carrying the weight of the past on our back, we need not wait but do it now. "Now" is not one moment, anyway; it is a series of events. It is more like "now and now and now" and so on…
It’s easy to feel overly burdened by what has happened in the past, but this is a perfect time to let go. But do I just set my pack down and walk away from it? Let’s face it, this is a difficult thing to do, to break our bond with what we’ve known. Since it's something we've lived, our past feels like a part of us. Once we’ve become accustomed to carrying the weight it actually becomes a comfort.
The only way I know to break the bond with what haunts me, is by dealing with it. I need to set my pack down on the ground open it up and look inside. Then I need to take whatever is in it, out. When the sunlight shines on my past suddenly it begins to shrivel and disappear. Mushrooms grow bigger in the dark but dry up in the light of the sun.
Years ago I spent six months on a course with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi in Biarritz, France. It was one of the most interesting times I’ve spent with him because he was giving so freely of his knowledge and dealing with each course participant personally. We would meet with Maharishi after dinner every night in the opulent ballroom of the beachfront Hotel le Palais where he would explain the many things that would happen in our meditations that we did not understand.
Our daily routine was something called "rounding" where we would meditate for a time, then do a set of yoga asanas to wake the body up, and then another meditation, and then more asanas—like that, all day long, from morning until evening. We would take a midday break for a light vegetarian lunch followed by a walk for about an hour, usually along the beach. Then we’d file back to our rooms, dress in our simple cotton pants and tee shirts and continue rounding until dinnertime.
After dinner, we’d congregate in the ballroom where Maharishi would listen as we described our experiences in meditation. One by one, the course participants would step up to the microphone to share their experiences in meditation. One night I had come in late and was hunting for an empty seat just as a young man—we were mostly young men and women in our twenties—stepped hesitantly up to the microphone. He began to describe a image which recurred in his meditations. I don’t recall his exact words but I’ll never forget the word he used in his description because it sent Maharishi rolling into laughter. In his hardly audible voice, the young man told Maharishi that what kept appearing looked like… "the most beautiful artichoke in the world."
When Maharisi finally stopped laughing, he leaned forward into his own microphone and said, "this is very good—what you are seeing is a lotus flower!"
In Eastern religion, there are many stories of lotus blossoms appearing to the enlightened.
I’m convinced that the moment I care about what even one other person thinks of me, I begin to be shackled and have lost my freedom. For me, it would be about the same as checking myself into prison.
We begin to care what another thinks, when we are unsure of ourselves. When we doubt that we are okay just as we are…
In reality, it doesn’t matter at all what I think about you either. Hopefully, I will think only the best about you, and care about your welfare. If you are old and tired and in need of help, I will help you. But let’s not confuse my natural kindness with my opinion of you. What I think about you, my opinion of the sound of your voice, the color of your hair, the kind of clothes you wear, even what you think—this stuff should mean nothing to you. Not a stitch, nada.
As selfish as it might seem, what I think of myself is all that matters. Because my SELF is the only self on earth that I really have any chance to know. I’m the only one who has all the facts about me. I’m the only one who knows how I really feel. I know my hopes and dreams for the future. I believe that it’s important for all of us to be self-centered. It is what I feel about MYSELF that effects the rest of the world, because if I am happy and at peace with myself, then I naturally have a better chance to be at peace with you—and everyone else too.
It’s just that simple. It’s when we love ourselves first that we can learn to love each other. Love, like the truth, is found not without but within .
Early on in my studies with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, I was attending a course in Interlaken, Switzerland. It was, like most of Maharishi’s venues, quite magical—at least when the sun was out. Perhaps the rarity of the sun’s visits just added to the magic. The town of Interlaken—between the lakes—is in a valley set in the middle of some of the most spectacular scenery in the Swiss Alps. The course was being held in the fall, not the greatest weather to be living in a valley of lakes where wet and foggy is pretty much the usual.
When the sun was shining and the sky was clear, the view off the balcony outside my room was of the Jungfrau, the Eiger and the Monch, three of the great climbing mountains in Switzerland—the Eiger’s North Face infamous as one of the most dangerous sheer walls in the Alps. The Jungfrau alone, in its snow-covered glory, was such a beautiful and inspiring view that I never tired of watching it throughout the day as the angle of the sun changed. What amazed me is how much the mountain’s character was transformed depending on the time of day and the weather—and how quickly the changes occurred.
It was part of our course ritual to take a walk after lunch. My daily walk usually took me along the shore of one of the lakes. But, one rainy, foggy afternoon I headed in a different direction. Suffering from too much fog and rain, I headed instead into the forest which began directly behind our hotel, the Victoria-Jungfrau. Heading out, oddly enough, I remember passing an antique black Chrysler limousine—circa 1950’s—which rested serenely amongst some other discarded five-star hotel remnants. I found a path heading up the side of the mountain looming ominously above the hotel and Interlaken.
At the mountain’s foot, the path traversed the face sideways before turning rather abruptly up the center in a series of quick back and forth switchbacks. I should say here, that even the thought of climbing a mountain, even one on which a trail was provided, was far "off the program" I was on. Given that I was attending a course on meditation, the primary objective being to allow the body to rest and ultimately to reach a place where its metabolic rate fell to almost nothing, climbing a mountain was not highly recommended. Probably, it was the sheer dreariness of a string of days which inspired me to go up rather than sideways, although I had no vision of what I was going to find.
The mountain, appropriately called the Harder Kulm, turned out to be more of climb than I’d bargained for. It may have been the weeks of resting my body that contributed to the difficulty I encountered in climbing. On the course, our only daily exercise beside our short walks were endless sets of yoga asanas. But "exhausted" is what I felt after an hour or so of heading fairly straight up. The path actually would have been a technical climb were it not for the polite Swiss habit of securing metal ladders into rock walls wherever needed. After about two hours of climbing, I remember wishing I hadn’t begun at all. But it must be the mountain goat in me that prevents me from stopping once I’ve begun. I always feel that very human need to get to the top.
But the reason for all the effort I was expending soon revealed itself. I remember it happening all at once—as a single moment in time. It was at a place where the trail had flattened out again into more switchbacks; where it had become a narrow strip cut into the side of the mountain. Suddenly, the trail turned a corner and there it was…there I was, above the clouds, above the fog—the sun shining bright. The view took my breath away! I remember how surprised I was…that I was seeing the sun that day.
There was still a ways to go to reach the top of the mountain…but I had lost my normal obsession to get there. I sat on the side of the trail, leaned back against the mountain, and thanked it for just being there!
Even though I’d begun my journey with no intention of seeing the sun, I’d found it in all its glory. The long climb became insignificant. The change in my view-point was all that mattered.
It occurs to me, as the sun comes up this morning, that regardless of our small human desires, our longings and our beliefs—in essence, our wishes—the sun still comes up in the morning not at all mindful of our small lives, just doing its job! As is its usual habit, at 4:30AM every day, nature awakens in sync with the sun's light coming closer and the birds begin their chirping…
It is this inimitable force we call Nature that has a plan which is really the only plan that works calmly and quietly, without any planning or thought involved at all. It just is. Our personal plans, our dreams, including all the little lists we make of things we plan to do today, are swept up, so it seems, in the burning light of the sun. When you think of it, the sun is the most important god on this planet. It rules everything we do. It orders things, commands us with its overpowering might. The sun gives us light without which we have no life.
Somehow, this morning I am mindful of the sun—perhaps because it has been such a long, cold winter here in New England…which brings me to my point. I wonder if I want to continue to live in such a dark and cold place as this? I wonder, if it is not time to move someplace closer to the sun?
In Greek mythology Apollo is the sun god. Sun is considered to be consciousness. Apollo is the son of Zeus who is the god of the sky. As the one who killed the Python of Delphi, Apollo is also considered to be the vanquisher of unconscious terror, which makes perfect sense, because it’s when the sun comes up in the morning that our nightmares take flight. Apollo has golden hair, the color of the sun, and He is the archer who shoots arrows of insight. As the father of Asclepius, the god of medicine, Apollo is the "father of healing." The Muses of the arts follow Apollo so that He is also father of inspiration and imagination—the god we can look to for creative images.
It occurs to me, as one of the artists and writers in residence here in New England, that moving to a sunnier, warmer place might possibly more healing and even more inspiring. As we are all in search of finding our personal truths, I think that for me, following Apollo might be the direction in which to travel…
Feeling that I might be all alone with my attitude of Ahimsa—I decided to seek the counsel of others more knowledgeable than myself.
A few years ago I had the unbelievable privilege of being invited to a luncheon with the Dali Lama. When he first came into the room and passed by me, I held by palms together and bowed in the traditional greeting of holy men in the East. Instead of returning the greeting in the same way, His Holiness pointed at me with his index finger in a manner that was more Billy Crystal than Dali Lama. He laughed when he saw the desired effect!
The Dali Lama has to be the most humble soul I have encountered on this planet. And, he has a great sense of humor! Here are a few of his thoughts on anger:
"Anger and hatred cannot bring harmony. The noble task of arms control and disarmament cannot be accomplished by confrontation and condemnation. Hostile attitudes only serve to heart up the situation, whereas a true sense of respect gradually cools down what otherwise could become explosive. We must recognize the frequent contradictions between short-term benefit and long-term harm."
"Whenever I examine human tragedy, I find that in most cases it is the result of human behavior—negative emotions such as anger, hatred, jealousy and extreme greed. All good things that are constructive, happier human experiences, are mostly motivated by respect for others’ rights and concern for others’ well-being—compassion, love and kindness."
It is my belief that non-violence must be rooted deep inside my self. If it is not, I know I will be easy to anger. Non-violence should not in any way be connected to a belief system—political or economic—because belief exists on the level of thinking. To be pure and true, non-violence must be seated in our hearts. Then, behind it, inside it, supporting it, will be the greatest force in the universe—love. Our politics, based on the thinking level can change at the whim of different forces, including the powerful winds of economics. But love exists on an even more powerful level: think of it as "nuclear".
The intellect is subject to argument. Falling pray to argument means taking sides. I do not want to be on any side. Being on one side allows another side to exist, which creates duality. Being in the center creates unity. If I sit to one side of the canoe, it tips over and I end up in the river. It’s when I remain in the middle that the boat is balanced and I drift easily down stream. Balance is my goal.
The heart alone knows the truth. As a test of truthfulness, we can pass any word through the filter of the heart—asking ourselves, "what do I feel?" rather than "what do I think?"
The heart is like the sun, which gives warmth to our solar system. It is truly the center of our personal universe. The heart is our spiritual connection to each other. The heart chakra is the door to connections with all things and to our god. We keep our god not in our head but in our heart.
If our belief system is rooted in our heart then love is the medium that will carry our message. Love is our weapon and our ammunition. Love slays whatever dragons need slaying. Love makes the obstacles in our path melt away. In the intense heat of our nuclear bomb of love, anger and hate cannot exist.
For some reason I find myself asking this question more and more, "how can I help?"
It is probably a basic human desire to want to lend a hand or extend a hand to another human. I don’t want to sound anything like a saint or even a selfless soul, because I am not. I am probably one of the most selfish people I know. So, in a strange way, at least for me, this desire to do something for another fellow human soul, is truly—like most of my desires—another selfish one. But maybe that’s how it works… It is one of the secrets to why Alcoholics Anonymous works so well for so many—it is the Twelfth Step, "Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs."
In the simplest terms, in order to keep it we must give it away. I do not honestly know why, but I am beginning to feel it is MY JOB to share whatever it is I have learned. Actually, for me, it is not so much "what I have learned" (which may not be very much) that I feel I need to share, it is more "THE PROCESS of discovery." The sharing fulfills another selfish desire to feel connected. By talking about the path I am on, I begin to feel that we are all in this together. And what more comforting feeling can there be than the feeling of being in the boat with the rest of humanity?
It seems to me, that giving what we have is both a most selfish and natural desire.
I remember someone asking Maharishi why he bothered to leave the bliss of the Himalayas and come out into the "mud" (as the saints call it) of the ignorant world. He answered that once one has gained some knowledge, the only thing to do with it is to give it away. And surprisingly, what I am learning is that it is when we GIVE that we lose ourselves—and start to GAIN peace of mind.
In one of the last notes left behind by Mahatma Gandhi in 1948 he expressed the following:
"I will give you a talisman. Whenever you are in doubt, or when the self becomes too much with you, apply the following test. Recall the face of the poorest and the weakest man [woman] whom you may have seen, and ask yourself, if the step you contemplate is going to be of any use to him [her]. Will he [she] gain anything by it? Will it restore him [her] to a control over his [her] own life and destiny? In other words, will it lead to swaraj [freedom] for the hungry and spiritually starving millions?
Then you will find your doubts and your self melt away."
Being human, living a life, can be visualized by drawing a circle—a line with no beginning or end. The sense of time comes from motion. It's as if we are atoms in a nuclear particle accelerator, a huge circular tube, where we are being shot around in a circle. The faster we go the more we feel the speed, so the greater the thrill! Motion gives us the feeling that we’re alive; our hat blows off and we feel the wind in our hair. Sometimes, I tend to think if I’m not moving then I’m not alive. But that’s just not true. In fact, maybe it’s exactly the opposite. As crazy as it sounds, it might be that when we’re standing still is when we’re most alive. I think of the day I stopped and got off my bicycle just to feel the connectedness, the oneness, of everything around me. How much more alive can I get? And all while just standing beside my bike, perfectly still!
If someone runs faster, shouts louder, does more—does this make their circle bigger? More crowded maybe, but that’s about it. The size of the circle isn’t the point at all. What matters most is how we treat our circle…how we tend to it, care for it. How we deal with our own life is how we will deal with someone elses.
The way I see it is this: the important thing is to keep our circle clean, keep it simple. For myself, I strive to live life like I’m alone in the desert—to have a sense of space, a sense of calm. When I think of my life as a drawing, I choose to draw my circle with a pencil that slides easily on the paper. I have learned to use my whole arm when I draw; not just the hand, but the shoulder, even the whole body. I’m always amazed that when I simply lean into my drawing—remembering to breathe—I usually end up with a nearly perfect circle. Even if I don’t get it right the first time, the pencil keeps moving.
As war looms closer like some ominous gray cloud which moves across the land in front of us, this image I’ve created in my mind inspires me to dig deep within, to come up with some solution—to do something, damn it! And it makes me think, what exactly do I do—seeing the storm coming at me? Think of it, the first solution that comes to mind is to escape—to run or to hide. In the real world, this would mean escaping into the countryside, living off the land like the survivalists do, or leaving the country altogether. That saves my family and me but how does it help anyone else? What does it do towards stopping the war? Not much.
This time, for this war, I want to help. When "my war" was raging, I went there to see for myself what it was all about. I went as a witness. Now that I know what war is, I want to become a force in stopping it. After all, war is barbaric. Even with all our high-tech weapons, it is by nature, something that belongs to the medieval past. I believe that we human beings have evolved to a point where our thinking should, fairly easily, be able to transcend the barbaric.
The idea must be to stop all war; it must be a universal thing. If we think like a peacenik filled with zeal and anger who thinks it’s enough to hop a bus to Washington where we will vent some anger, together with a crowd of like-minded souls, at what the government is doing—forget it. By doing that we could be doing more to contribute to war than those who stay home have a beer and watch the demonstration on TV! Why? Because we are not creating peace. We are creating more anger. Talking about peace or, especially, SHOUTING about peace has the exact opposite effect. It is angering the other half of the world, the half that believes in war. So there you have the two sides it takes to create another war—one against another—ready to fight!
Back to the storm. There is another way to deal with the impending storm on the horizon. Lie low, sit tight and … meditate. All of us are most powerful on the subtler levels of thought. If we allow our minds to settle down and be on a subtler level we will have a much greater effect on the world and on the universe at large. We naturally begin to think more rationally a level where we are more in tune with the laws of nature. So we can put all the power of Nature to work for us, to help us in creating peace. The power to do this comes from within us.
Something I read in a blog yesterday by Vita (vitalingus) in Australia says it beautifully. "This is a defining time in history where we must all find our courage, our compassion, our desire to act from love, not fear of the other, not anger at not having control of things we perceive we need."
Within ourselves is where we find the power to love each other, rather than to harm or to steal. So when we look inside, look for the love that is there and put it to work—blanket the world with it.
Slowly I’m learning that the process of creating peace begins with me. This is good to know! At least now I’m looking in the right place—not outside myself, not on the village green or in Washington D.C. In my years following my time in Vietnam I have, at times been the angriest guy I know.
In my book "Life is War But You Can Win" written in the vernacular of the soldiers in Vietnam, I wrote a paragraph on what Vietnam Vets call Righteous Anger: "I had righteous anger for twenty years after I got back to the World. I was ready to rip someone’s face off when he smiled the wrong way. I thought I deserved to be angry. I thought I was somehow unique and special because I’d been to Nam. I figured it was okay for me to be angry if I didn’t like the way you did something. One day I saw myself for who I was. I was acting out, and my sons and my wife were taking the brunt of my anger. I had no right to yell at them. I had no right to be angry at them. And that’s when I finally went to get some help. It took me three years to learn this very difficult lesson. And what I also learned along the way was that I’m not special. I’m not unique. I’m just another warm body takin’ up space back in the World."
I wrote that in 1993—25 years after I came back. It may have been a slow start but the good thing is, it WAS a start. And I can tell, by reading my words, that I’ve made some improvement since then—I can feel that I’m a little less angry now. What life has taught me in the ten years since I wrote that is that anger is inextricably connected to fear. I have learned that when I’m angry, if I just scratch a little underneath it, I will find something right below the surface that frightens me. It’s that simple!
My anger—like the other Vietnam Vets I know—came from being frightened on a daily basis for a year. It was the accumulation of so much fright that it became imbedded so deeply it calcified; hence the length of time needed to unearth and to dissolve it. But, this process of "getting it", that is slowly beginning to see it and then dealing with it, definitely makes me an expert. Not something to necessarily be proud of—being an anger —but now perhaps I can put that expertise to good use.
I’m presuming that most humans have certain degrees of the angry nature that possessed me for so long. So what I’m suggesting is that we think of our anger as the energy it is and we learn to transform it. First we recognize that our anger is caused simply by fear. But we don’t let the fear turn angry. By recognizing it, we can catch it just in time so it dissipates and transforms itself into an easier, more natural state—peace. Energy is energy and in its basic state it is neutral—neither good nor bad—neither angry nor peaceful. So, whenever we become aware that we are frightened—afraid—instead of getting mad, we get peaceful, get happy. We don’t even have to try, it simply happens.
How else are we going to create peace in the world? If you or I are an angry soul, even if we carry a banner for peace, we are not in actuality creating peace at all, we’re doing just the opposite. I know this to be, true. Remember, I AM the expert on anger!
Peace, sisters and brothers…peace.
I’ve been thinking lately about this idea of being the witness to all I do. We live life—and as I often hear Maharishi’s words in my head, we don’t need to think too much about it—we just need to live it. So I am wondering, why is it that I feel this constant need to report on my life? Why can’t I just live it and then leave well enough alone?
If I knew the answer, I would not have to ask the question. But what comes to mind is that by being a reporter, and by considering the events that take place around us each day, we can make sense of our lives. This is how I learn—by observing and by questioning. As a result, my life becomes a story rather than just a life. And a story is something we can read, can make into a book that we can hold in front of us and look at. It becomes something we can consider—agree or not agree with. For me, doing this makes life easier to view, and as such, easier to deal with.
I’d like to get something straight—I am no expert on anything. Half the time, at least half the time, I have no clue about what I’m going to say; let this be a warning to anyone reading further…
I know that acceptance is a big deal. There is a wonderful saying in one of the inspirational books I open most mornings which suggests we "wear life like a loose garment." To me, that sums it up. Being comfortable in our own skin is another way to say it. And this begins to happen by accepting who we are.
The problem with the idea of acceptance is that it can mean that if we have a low estimation of who we are, then that is what we are willing to settle for. That means I have to be careful about accepting too much about myself that might be "less than" who I am. It is so easy for me to fall into that trap of feeling that I am not good enough. The best part of accepting who I am is this: The truth is, I am fine—just as I am. I don’t need to change, don’t need to make myself better, especially to fit into an imaginary idea—or someone else’s idea—of who I should be. There is no other idea for me…of who I should be. I am fine, warts and all, just as I am.
This doesn’t mean I shouldn’t strive. Every day there is a challenge facing me—it’s called life. If I wake up breathing, I have to deal with life. But with the tools I’ve been given, I can deal. I have a good mind, an idea of what’s right and wrong, and a good sense of direction. So one of the things I can accept is my ability to make my way in the world. The more I accept, the easier life becomes—the more my life begins to feel like I’m wearing it like a loose garment.
I do this all the time. I did it less than an hour ago. I came downstairs feeling so excited that I’d been inspired to get back to my journal. I voiced my feeling out loud sounding as excited as a kid—when, right afterwards, I heard the subtle voice of doubt sing out, "oh you fool, you sound so childish!" "Inspiration," "feeling inspired," what’s that about?
Maharishi says that doubt is the biggest hindrance to spiritual progress. I know through my own experience that this is true. If I doubt that I’m having this experience of non-attachment, I will stop having it—it’s that simple. So why doubt? Doubt only serves to prevent what is really happening. Doubt created a superficial level, which really doesn’t exist. Doubt is an illusion. Doubt is something I manifest out of fear. Fear of what’s real. Doubt, in that sense, is denial—denial of what’s real and good and true.
Sometimes spiritual experience comes in disguise. Once I was riding my bike back from a swim at the beach when suddenly I was overcome with a vision of pure beauty all around me. I was on the street I live on, which I’d ridden up and down hundreds of times before, but never had I noticed the sheer beauty of the trees, the houses, the street itself—everything—and the way things were placed relative to one another. I stopped riding, got off my bike and just stood still for a few minutes. I knew what was happening—the experience I was having—was more than the usual. It was a feeling of being one with everything.
As much as I’d like to discount that simple moment, in my heart I know I shouldn’t, and can’t. I know that it’s good for me—and for us all—to believe in these precious moments that are given to us. They come at any time and may hardly seem to be there at all. But the more we practice paying attention and honoring them, I’m convinced the more they will come.
For me, life is all in the way I look at it. When things are bad, when it seems like things are not going well, life appears big and overwhelming. It seems as if some tall mountain is looming close, casting a shadow over me looking like it might fall, might crush me beneath tons of rock and soil. But, when things are going fine there is flat land in front of me and I am the tallest object in sight. My perspective is one of looking down at the horizon lying harmlessly flat, stretched in submission—like a simple line drawn with a pencil merely to separate earth and sky.
Looking forward at life it can seem overwhelming, and looking at "now" might seem invisible—impossible to see for lack of perspective. These days I hear people, all the time, shouting from roof tops, "live in the now!" I’ve found myself doing it myself. It’s easy to become part of a like-minded group. All of us, feel safe in repeating what we hear others say—it gives us a sense of community. We feel comfortable when we hear our own voice as part of a group shouting the familiar to one another. It’s the same feeling when we’re sitting in the stands on the same side of a stadium rooting for our team with rows of like-minded fans. No wonder we’re sometimes called sheep.
People especially like to quote what Buddha had to say about living in the present. But I challenge this whole notion of living in the present! Tell me, When is "now"? "Now" is "then". As soon as we say the word "now" or even think it, it’s in the past—the thought is gone. So why bother to try to live in the present at all? I don’t have to tell myself to live—it just happens all on its own without even having to think about it.
Basically, I don’t have to worry about time at all. Time is something we humans have created for our own convenience—perhaps to create some order. But it seems like we have abused what began as an innocent need. It’s as if, especially in the modern world, we feel a need to "fill up our time" as in "fill up our day." And that, for me anyway, leads to craziness!
So I try to remember that time really doesn’t exist—it’s invisible. It’s unreal. It’s something made up. I tend to think that I’ve done a lot of things in this lifetime, traveled to a lot of places—in essence, filled up much of my allotted time. Then I had the idea to draw my life as a circle—from the beginning to where I am now—and I saw just how small a circle I’d drawn.