As a person matures, he develops a sense of self. The more aware of himself he becomes, paradoxical as this may seem, the more concerned with others he must become. Just think of this great spiritual truth, my friends: lack of selfhood means self-centeredness. Full selfhood means concern for others, fairness in evaluating advantages and disadvantages of others and self. It does not mean annihilation of self for the sake of others in a distorted sense of martyrdom. But it does imply a sense of fairness in which one is capable of forgoing an advantage if it creates undue pain or unfair disadvantage for another. Pathwork Guide Lecture 120, Eva Pierrakos
For the most part, the past week of quarantine has looked much the same as it has for the past couple of months. The preponderance of birds, riotous flower bloomings, quiet streets. Then, a warm spell in San Francisco sending folks out to the parks.
Overnight, it seems that facemasks have become obsolete, and big drunken parties of young people fill the grass. I don’t enter the park most days now, and walk Henry elsewhere. After months of lockdown, I can’t help but seeing that block-square grass patch as a big petri dish.
The young, healthy-looking people seem so joyful and confident in their flouting of scientific recommendations that I, too, want to believe that things are getting back to normal. It occurs to me to be grateful that these people are willing to be the canaries in the coal mine, while I keep on with medical establishment guidance.
When I see the islands of parties, I feel left out in a way, like I didn’t get the memo. I feel like an old fogey, believing information from the CDC and a friend who is a doctor rather than deciding on my own how to proceed. I slink away with my mask on, distancing myself from everyone I pass, staying in the house for most of the time. I question myself, judging myself for being overly cautious. I feel all of the old “left out” feelings of Junior High.
We’re all doing what we can, with our many ideas and opinions at play here. There are extremes of opinions, I know. We can only do what we feel is in integrity to our individual truth. Where we choose to get our information, whom we trust, all of it makes up our diverse society.
Problems come when we look outwards to judge. I see myself sticking to a belief that others are being selfish, and further, that I’m right and they’re wrong.
Then my next thought is: better you than me.
Ah, there it is. The old duality, the old separateness. The seed of all misery in ourselves and in the world. This is the “misknowing” that is one of the three Buddhist poisons, and maybe the most dire kernel of all our suffering: the belief that we are separate from the whole.
When we are in this duality, that “I” am so distinct from “You,” we spend our lives strengthening our separate self. It becomes our life’s mission to build up the walls of separateness, defending ourselves, creating boundaries to love and compassion, shoring ourselves up for a kind of futile and endless battle against the other. If we are proven wrong about anything, then the façade crumbles, and we subject ourselves to even more misery. Even the anticipation that we might lose our autonomy causes us great agony.
I don’t like the part of myself that thinks she deserves a better fate than those in the park. I don’t wish ill on others and dislike the relief that rises when I know others may suffer so I don’t have to. In meditation, I observe these feelings and see that they are born of frustration of not knowing, and of wanting to be right.
The part of me that wants to be right also feels “not good enough.” This is a feeling of lack. Isn’t it interesting that out of lack comes a lack of compassion?
I guess this is what the quote above from Eva Pierrakos is saying. When we don’t feel “good enough,” we don’t have the strength to be compassionate to others. When we judge ourselves for not being good enough, this judgment, this lack of self-compassion, is the energy we turn out toward the other.
If we see the reality around us a reflection of our internal reality, then recognizing our inner darkness and coming to terms with those parts within ourselves that judge and battle seems to be a path towards changing the world.
I hear my mentor’s voice here, laughing at me. I remember reading a transcript of a conversation of the awakened master Ramana Maharshi:
Questioner: How are we to treat others?
Ramana Maharshi: There are no others.
I have been watching more news than I usually do, and the recent terrible stories of racist acts have shaken me. First, the story of the young black man shot in Georgia drew me in. The disgust I feel for the act, and the apparent cover-up by authorities, is overwhelming. It is shocking, that this could happen in the light of all the ways we have progressed through history. Then not shocking, as it exposes truths about racism that we deeply know, but have difficulty confronting. Then, another story. Then, another. Over and over, we see these truths.
Some believe that we are creating our reality, and that the thoughts that rise in ourselves are those that manifest externally. So a feeling of powerlessness, a lack, self-hatred that creates a dearth of compassion, and then, yet another heinous act. How many times and in how many ways must we enact this pain?
It may seem that the negative thoughts of a lady drummer in San Francisco are far removed from the actions of racist killers in Georgia or anywhere else. But thoughts have energy. The world I see is the one I am in alignment to, whether I want to believe it or not. My own ego attacks itself, and manifesting in the world I see attack. The war in myself is the war I see enacted. The lashing out in fear, out of lack, that I subject myself to, is reflected outward when I read the news.
It may not seem that I have anything to do directly with these situations, but I take responsibility for the energy I find in myself that is the seed of the energy there. If we are indeed one great organism, experiencing together this manifestation of existence, then my darkness contributes in some way to all darkness.
It’s a lot to believe, that we contribute to our reality in this way, I know. I could no more kill a man out of racist intention than I could toss my head around the room like a ball.
However, if I work to unearth this powerlessness and lack in my self, then I may live from wholeness, moving through life from the awareness in the heart. From this place, I see there is an intelligence in me beneath all the judgment and righteousness. From this place, I can see the men who killed this young man for who they are: men so lost in the agony of fear and hatred that they knew not what they did.
Why does this matter? Yes, the men will be punished according to law. But why the need to see them as other than killers?
Because to leave anyone outside of light is to leave us all outside of light. We cannot lift the world and all its beings to a higher vibration if we continue to choose who stays and who goes. We cannot lift ourselves to a higher vibration if we continue to believe that there are parts of ourselves that are unworthy and forsaken.
We have to look directly at these acts and see them for what they are. These abhorrent actions are manifestations of our self-hatred, born of a dire need to prove our separateness, our righteousness. When I feel justified that the people partying in the park will be the ones to suffer should what I believe is true comes true, it is that same lack, that same energy of wanting to be the one who is right that drives these actions.
I take responsibility for the whole, and I begin by taking responsibility for myself. We must recognize commonality, wholeness, in order to heal these energies, and finally step into the light of our true inheritance. Empathetic Joy. Peace. Oneness.
There is a shaft of light coming in through the kitchen window and blinding me here on the couch. Another lovely San Francisco morning. Henry is snuggled against me, so abidingly patient during the morning writing session, always. I am in love with his adorable warm body snoring between my knees, and the gift of his presence.
I guess with the quarantine I keep going deeper inside, and it’s giving me time to watch myself and the patterns that rise. I see how much judgment runs through me constantly. Judging myself for not doing enough, for not taking enough advantage of this down time, for not being enough, for not knowing the answers, and for needing to think that I know the ultimate truth about anything.
When I let all of that go, I fall into the heart, as I’ve been taught. Here is all I need, and all I know. Here, I am complete. Here, I see the divine in all things. From the wide awareness of the heart, I watch the tussle of mind that brings me to write a piece like this.
The light is hitting the jar where my newly sprouted yam sits on the windowsill, and shines a prism to my forehead like some kind of divine blessing. Henry, in his sleep, begins wildly wagging his curly tail. So there’s that.
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