The Cross of Being Human

What meaning does the symbol of the cross or crucifix still hold, including for those who may not identify themselves as Christian? Does it have anything of value to offer in today's world? I purchased this crucifix shown in the photo while visiting Paris in 2002. On the back is a sticker which reads "Fabrication Francaise". Whenever I look at it, I not only think of the universal meaning of the crucifix but also of the particular place where I found this version of the symbol.

It occurs to me that this paradox of a symbol being both unique and universal is telling us something about what it means to be human. On the one hand, we are more than our egos. When I find myself grasping, resisting, ungrateful, indignant or just plain pissed off at the world, I realize it's time to let go into Something Larger.

I have found Buddhism particularly helpful at such times with its notion of not taking the personal self so personally because even the person we identify with as "myself" is a constantly morphing fabrication of the ego. What is essential is Spirit, Buddha mind, Christ consciousness, Ground of Being, or whatever name you choose to give that Source which animates us and into which we release when this life ends. When caught up in self-pity, self-entitlement, or self-preoccupation, it is into the vast web of Everything-ness that I release (eventually and often after much kicking and cussing).

On the other hand, there is a "me" present in this moment, a unique expression of that Source that will never be repeated. I have passions, insights, talents, desires, flaws and dreams that no other being will ever embody in this combination.

This part is actually harder for me to live. I can more readily surrender into the Light of Being than I can see my particularly wavelength of color in the Light. It is easier for me to chock things up to Mystery and sit with an uncomfortable unknowing than it is to for me to know and act on what is true for me as this one-of-a-kind human being. My deep fear is that I may not be loved or liked when I fully unfurl my hues and tints. Yet without an intimate knowing and passionate expression of who I am, my life is muted and gray. The Light of the World is also diminished, refracting one less color.

This is the cross of being human. One aspect of me is always grateful, irrevocably loved, and, on a deep heart level, belongs to everyone and everything. In that space there is no separation and no fear. Another part of me is defined, has boundaries and has places of belonging and not belonging. It is that space of Oneness, Love and Wholeness that I have the courage to express my uniqueness that may or may not jive with the uniqueness of others.

We are both divine (or Life Essence) in a way that can never be separate or defined from any other part of life. And we are also separate, defined, colorful, individual expressions of the divine. Both are true. The beams of the cross itself, one vertical and one horizontal, symbolize this intersection of the eternal and the temporary. Jesus Christ represents the conscious embodiment of this intersection, this meeting of the holy and the ordinary at the crossroads of humanity. The cross of being human is to live both fully.

Do You Hate Samaritans?

Do you hate Samaritans? If not, one of Jesus' most famous teachings, The Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37), won't work as intended. The leverage point of the parable is that Jesus' hearers despised their northern Samaritan neighbors, and to have one as the hero of the story was shocking. The purpose of such parables is to turn everything upside down and inside out. In fact, Jesus' subversive goal is to disorient our entire world view so that we can reorient to the mind of Christ, the mind which sees beyond the confines of naked self interest.

"His [Jesus’] whole mission can fundamentally be seen as trying to push, tease, shock and wheedle people beyond the 'limited analytic intellect' of their egoic operating system into the 'vast realm of mind' where they will discover the resources they need to live in fearlessness, coherence and compassion – or in other words, as true human beings."        Cynthia Bourgeault in Wisdom Jesus, p. 37

Jesus spoke the parable in response to a lawyer who asked for an iron-clad definition of who qualifies as a neighbor. Unless you hate Samaritans, however, Jesus' response is unlikely to evoke its intended visceral reaction, which is necessary to short-circuit the egoic mind. So, what's a non-hater of Samaritans to do? If I may be so bold to suggest, we can try to update the characters so that they push our buttons and push us beyond our normal thinking. Here's my update of the story:

An African-American gay activist leaves a local bar late one Saturday night. A couple of skinheads beat him and leave him for dead. A couple of regular churchgoers see the beating and take a step closer until one of the perpetrators wields a weapon, and they wisely run for safety. A few moments later, an overworked Latina social worker hears the man moaning in the dark alley and assumes it’s one of the city’s countless homeless whom she spends virtually every waking moment assisting. On this, her one free night a month from the responsibility of work and children, she simply has not the energy to deal with it and walks on by. A few moments later, Former Vice President Dick Cheney, in town for a political fundraiser, passes by and catches sight of the man out of the corner of his eye. He orders his driver to stop. He and the driver get out and take the man to Cheney’s personal physician who always travels with him. Dick Cheney provides the gay African-American activist, who has no health insurance, with all the financial and medical support he needs to heal and get back to work with the proviso that the man tell no one who has helped him.

What reaction do you notice in your gut? This is my take on updating the story. How would you modify it to create a visceral reaction so that you get the parable and so that it gets to you?

Seeing Right Through Disguises

Growing up I loved reading comic books. I could believe storylines about other dimensions, magical villains, and mutant superpowers. What I found hard to believe was the notion of secret identities, that superheroes could walk around in everyday life undetected. Why didn’t everyone notice that Clark Kent was obviously Superman? His disguise was a pair of glasses. That’s it. How was everyone so blind? All they saw was Clark, a mild-mannered reporter. I shouldn’t be too hard on comic book writers. Most of us wear disguises. We put on various masks to fit in and make ourselves look good, but they rarely fool anyone. On the other hand, our magnificent essence is often obscured by our faults and frailties.

In the Bible is a story about a blind beggar named Bartimaeus. (Mark 10:46-52; Luke 18:35-43). Like most good stories, the irony is the point. The blind man sees what no one else does. The crowd of sighted people see their latest superhero, superstar, prophet and magician. Bartimaeus sees deeper.

The crowd tries to silence Bartimeaus when he calls out to Jesus. But Bartimaeus yells out all the louder, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”...Son of David. David, that woefully imperfect king who nonetheless was said to be a man after God’s own heart. Bartimaeus sensed in Jesus that heart of God, the heart of compassion, Life Essence, the Web of care connecting all.

Jesus stands still. It takes conscious intention to stop midst the inertia of the crowd (or the inertia of our own ego), get still, check in and then act from a deeper place, from the heart of compassion.

“What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asks him. What an odd question. Isn’t it blatantly obvious? Not really. The unfortunate truth is that most of us would rather stay in the familiar dark. Did Bartimaeus really want to see? It would come with a cost: he'd have to let go of his identity as a blind man; he'd have to find a new line of work; he'd have to let go of all reasonable excuses and entrenched story lines about his life.

Do you really want to see? To see things as they are always requires that we sacrifice cherished illusions. The excuses, blame, judgments, self-centeredness, arrogance, self-pity, apathy…they fall like scales from our eyes. We see life as it is, stripped of our familiar narratives and prejudices. It’s liberating but uncomfortable.

Bartimaeus makes his choice, “I want to see again.” Jesus replies, “Receive your sight; your faith has saved you.” Does he physically see again? Maybe. We only know a small fraction of what is possible in this surprising universe. But if all we get from the story is that a man named Jesus performed unrepeatable magic tricks 2,000 years ago and therefore must be praised and obeyed, then we've missed the mystical juice that still heals today.

Bartimaeus takes a leap of faith, which saves him. Is it possible that Bartimaeus takes that leap out of the familiar toward wholeness and finds in himself the very Life-Essence that Jesus radiates? It's interesting that Jesus doesn't say "I saved you" but rather "Your faith has saved you."

The constant choice is between a familiar, fear-based existence and greeting life as it is, with openness and kind eyes. To see life as it is requires faith because we must be willing to surrender our set story lines for an unpredictable, emerging story. If we are willing to make that leap of faith, then we will be saved in every way a person can be saved. We will see right through every disguise, including the one we see in the mirror, to the very heart of God. We'll recognize the lively sparkle in the eyes behind those glasses.

The Koans of Jesus

"What is the sound of one hand clapping?" "What moves, the flag or the wind?"

Huh????

These are koans, which are nonsensical Buddhist riddles, the very contemplation of which exhausts the rational mind so that a deeper wisdom emerges. When one of these riddles does its job, how we perceive reality changes. We no longer connect the dots of our lives in the same way.

What if the teachings of Jesus also function as koans? What if his parables were really wisdom tales intended to dislodge us from our comfortable, but limited, way of viewing reality? In fact, what if Jesus was really a Wisdom Teacher concerned more with our awakening than with our orthodoxy?

This is the notion promoted by Christian writer Cynthia Bourgeault and other progressive theologians. Of Jesus she writes:

"His parables are much closer to what in the Zen tradition would be koans - profound paradoxes (riddles, if you like) that are intended to turn the egoic mind upside down and push us into new ways of seeing...He is very deliberately trying to short-circuit the grasping, acquiring, clinging, comparing linear brain and to open up within us a whole new mode of perception (now what we see, but how we see, how the mind makes its connections.) This is a classic strategy of a master of wisdom." Wisdom Jesus, pp. 47, 50, 51

I love this approach to the teachings and life of Jesus. Most of us only hear the Bible through layers of church-speak that obscure and deflate its transformational power.

How can we hear sacred texts anew so that they turn our assumptions inside out? How can they mirror back to us our unconscious patterns of thinking and doing? How can they come alive and speak directly to our lived experience here and now? How do we recover the original punch these stories had? For unless scriptures create a visceral reaction and jar us into a new level of awakening, we have not really heard them.

Try this:

• Read a story from the Bible (or any sacred scripture) aloud. Better yet listen to it read to you. The Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32) and Jesus' other parables are excellent passages to use for this practice.
• Notice what your first gut reaction is to the story. Before the mind has a chance to tame the story, start writing the next chapter, that is, what you imagine might happen next. Let it be pure, spontaneous and uncensored.
• Then look at what you wrote in response to the passage:
  • What do you notice?
  • What is the dominant emotion you feel as you read what you wrote? Do you feel angry, sad, hopeful, confused, open like a breath of fresh air, deflated? What do you feel in your body?
  • What does your writing reveal about how you relate to life? How is it mirroring back to you habitual patterns of thinking, feeling or acting?
  • Particularly lean into any parts of what you wrote that are uncomfortable. What is being reflected back to you? How is this passage turning you upside down and inside out? 
  • What new way of relating to life, to yourself, to others, to the divine is possible?

When we treat the teachings of Jesus as koans, they regain their wild, untamed potential to surprise and transform. When we hold them as universal tools intended to enlighten rather than indoctrinate, they begin to shift consciousness and take us into the felt wisdom of our bodies. They attune our hearts to the frequency of compassion. They empty the inner clutter and create spaciousness. They jolt us into alignment with the flow of Life.

What is the sound of one hand clapping? It is the sound of wisdom awakened.

The Body Mantra

I've been noticing a number of bad equations circulating in my head. These formulas equate two things which are, in truth, not the same. But I often act and feel like these formulas are valid. Here are a few of my untrue equations:

Someone is disappointed = I've done something wrong.

Someone is pleased = I've done something right.

GLEE still = good television worth watching.

Everything got completed and was done correctly = I'm a good person.

Things did not go as planned = I screwed up.

The script of any Twilight movie = ...Wait a minute, they had scripts?!?

What untrue equations still operate in you? Often I don't even realize that I'm being run by one of these faulty formulas until I've made myself, and most likely those around me, miserable.

I have, however, found a reliable way to change my operating system so that I'm running on a truer equation that yields better results. In last week's post, I wrote about living from a place of "belovedness", from the sense that I am already and irrevocably loved, and I am eternally ok.

I'm discovering that the key to living from this belovedness is physical, not mental. I can't think my way into belovedness. Instead I rely on my body. When I have felt in my bones, down to my core, that I really am all right...in those moments I sensed a warm, vibrating, open peace. Rather than try to reason my way back there, I get still and focus on returning to that same felt sense. It's not so much the feeling that I'm going for, but the shift in perception because everything looks much different from a felt sense of "all is well".

It's much like meditating with a mantra. A mantra is a word or phrase chosen before meditation begins. When the chatty-Cathy mind inevitably starts to wander, focus returns to the mantra as a way to re-center. When I drift off into a Sea of Bad Equations, my body feels tense, closed, cold and agitated. By shifting my focus back to that space of "all is well" within me, I use my body as a mantra that resets my entire way of interacting with life. My body becomes the sacred path back to reality.

Those false equations still float around within me, but I don't have to be run by them anymore. My body tells me so.

P.S. If you'd like to practice creative ways of resetting your old equations, join us on Tuesday nights, starting April 16, for a weekly gathering called Tuesday Night Live.

Facebook: My New Prayerbook

Facebook is becoming the face of the nation...and of much of the world. About 1 billion people are now active users, with half a billion posting each day. On the one hand, Facebook is a blessing. We can share parts of our lives with friends and loved ones around the world: a photo of an exuberant child enjoying a day with grandma,  the latest video of your dog at the park, or a picture of your latest culinary masterpiece that makes every reader's mouth water. I am grateful for the ability to stay so immediately connected with what is happening in the lives of people far and near.

And yet, there is a downside because Facebook is also an addictive ego trip consuming countless hours of our lives. I've been listen to my own internal dialog as I browse through posts. Here's some of what I hear within:

• Wow! Look at how many people liked my post...they like me, they really like me!
• Hmmmm, I wonder why no one commented on or shared my post? Did I say something offensive or was it just not that interesting?
• He needs a filter. That was way too much information.
• I'm doing or looking fantastic/pathetic in comparison to....
• I can't believe the ignorance of these people I've known since elementary school.

My internal chatter sounds like the din of a middle school cafeteria. My little ego wants recognition, approval, and to be proved right and superior. And Facebook is the perfect venue for my ego to play out its addictive games in pursuit of those pusillanimous yet very human drives.

This morning I brought my Facebook experience into my prayer/meditation time. I let go of all that was arising for me: my desire to be approved as evidenced by people liking and sharing my posts, my comparison of myself to others on Facebook, and my anger about what I perceive to be narrow-minded, closed-hearted posts from people I grew up with.

Over and over again, I acknowledged, owned up to, accepted and then released these ego trips into the divine spaciousness within. As I did a realization arose. Facebook had become my prayerbook. I then prayed for my loved ones and for those childhood friends whose posts had offended me. I prayed for our country and our world in light of both the beauty and the ignorance I had seen on Facebook. I prayed for my own beauty to be revealed and my own ignorance to be lifted. And then I let go; I let go of my needs, my self-righteousness, and of Facebook itself and experienced a deep peace, freedom and wholeness.

I intend to return to Facebook with a different posture. While I'll still share and read and like and post, I'll also use it as my book of prayers for all the faces behind those electronic posts. I'll use it as a mirror to reflect those patterns within myself that I will bring to my meditation and prayer time for healing and release. And, of course, I'll take it less seriously. After all, it's just an online middle school cafeteria. Might as well have some laughs, spend fewer minutes there, and move on.

Oh, and even though I know Facebook is just a glorified middle school cafeteria, I still hope you'll like and share my post. Everyone else is doing it.

P.S. Please join us for the new series of day retreats I'll be leading this fall, and/or spread the word to those you think might be interested. Details are on the Classes page. Thank you!

A Bridge to Somewhere

The late Senator Ted (the Internet is a "series of tubes") Stevens once tried to push a bill through Congress that would have built a $398 million bridge in his home state of Alaska between the towns of Ketchikan (population 14,000) and Gravina Island (population 50) because the existing ferry service was considered inadequate. It became known as "The Bridge to Nowhere". Recently I listened to an Easter sermon by Dr. Jim Rigby in which he said that the Easter resurrection story only makes sense when we see ourselves as an evolutionary bridge between the life that came before us and the life that will come after and through us. In other words, the deeper message of Easter is that we are an evolutionary "bridge to somewhere".

A bridge is not the destination. My life goes into a tailspin faster than Herman Cain's presidential campaign when I forget this truth: The unfolding story of the universe is not about me. It is about the universe, about Life itself. If my molecules, my kindness, my work, my relationships in this brief lifetime bless some form of life beyond myself, then my body is, in a very real sense, resurrected.

A central failing of American Christianity (and of most spiritual practice in this country) is that we don't care very deeply about anyone or anything beyond ourselves. We talk about heaven and the afterlife but show little concern for those going through hell here and now. We get our inner bliss on by meditating, aligning chakras, and pretzeling our bodies like yogis until we become oblivious to the pain in dilapidated apartment complexes across town. We worship superstar spiritual teachers but lack the humility to learn from a wise African-American cleaning woman we see every day. Such a religion/spirituality will always be characterized by fearful, narcissistic grasping. It is a self-centered bridge to nowhere.

Whatever our beliefs are about the afterlife, we can experience a bridge of connection that spans our differences and links us with life everywhere. Such a universal connection would include:

• Placing our individual lives in the context of the ongoing story of Life itself. Otherwise, talk of the afterlife is simply a glorified ego trip.
• Revolutionary, evolutionary practices done individually and in supportive communities where we break the trance of myopic navel-gazing and get real with each other.
• A mindful awareness about how our daily choices affect the people we live and work with, cashiers and waiters that serve us, impoverished women in Latin America who make our clothes, children yet unborn in Asia, and species in the Pacific Ocean yet to emerge.

In this kind of spirituality, anxious grasping for the afterlife transforms into a conscious connection with the Spirit of LIfe here and now. The isolating hell of "me, myself and I" becomes a resurrection in which I find myself by losing myself in something grander than myself.  The tragedy of my finite existence becomes a celebration of my unique chapter in life's everlasting story. A bridge to nowhere becomes a bridge to somewhere.

Thank you for reading this post. If you would like to explore together (either online or in person) what a down to earth, LIfe-serving spirituality will look like in the 21st century, please provide your feedback and also sign up below for email notification of future posts. Let's get the conversation started. Thank you!

How Many Light Bulbs Does It Take to Change a Person?

This week I unleash my "Inner Geek" with a Star Trek reference. In an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, Captain Picard is interrogated by a sadistic captor, Gul Madred. Day after day, Madred tells Captain Picard to look at an overhead lamp with four light bulbs. He asks Picard, "How many lights do you see?" When Captain Picard responds with the correct number, he is tortured and starved. Madred wants Captain Picard to claim that he sees five lights, when, in fact, there are only four. Shortly after he is rescued, Captain Picard confesses to his ship's counselor that toward the end of his captivity he believed he could see five lights. Self-delusion is a common occurrence, particularly when we are under duress. It's easy to see it in others. The homophobic preacher battling his own repressed sexual orientation. The "peace" activist who is angry and belligerent.

Of course, by definition, we tend not to see our own self-delusions. We may see ourselves as basically kind, generous, virtuous, open-minded or sophisticated. We tend not to see, however, the times in which we are or have the capacity to be mean-spirited, greedy, promiscuous, judgmental or a total geek.

Self-delusions can be a gift.  In a crisis, we only see the part of reality we can actually process. In our formative years, the emerging ego creates a partially-true identity that helps us navigate the tricky social structures in which we live. However, to be mature and whole and avoid self-sabotage, these delusions must eventually give way to a more accurate perspective.

When I was in Japan, I went to verdant Mount Koya-san. Accessed only by funicular, over 100 Buddhist temples populate its slopes. At the temple where I spent the night, guests are invited each morning to join the monks for a fire ceremony.  All of the monks except one sit together on the right side of a screen that divides the temple in half. They play drums and chant while surrounded by massive urns that house their sect's sacred scrolls. On the other side of the partition sits one monk stoking a large fire. The fire symbolizes the goal of the chanting meditation, which is not only to burn away our self-delusions, but also to illuminate them when they return throughout the day so that we can make more conscious choices that are appropriate for the moment.

Besides meditation, methods of burning away and illuminating self-delusions include:

• Ask a partner or trusted friend for honest feedback without defending yourself
• Pause for self-reflection once in a while when you sense an unseemly urge, thought or feeling emerge within you
• Journal about what you consider to be unbearable in other people and then get real about the ways in which you behave (or are trying with every fiber of your being not to behave) in a similar way
• Lighten up. These self-delusions are part of the human coping system and are not unique to you. When from a place of objectivity you see them for what they are, there's no need to take them personally or too seriously. You might even laugh at yourself...and everyone else.

What have you found helpful in illuminating your self-delusions? Please share your ideas in the comments section below.

Illuminating our self-delusions takes courage to boldly go within in order to become more present, clear and real in our daily lives. Every time we see through a delusion, we have an "aha" experience as a light bulb goes on. How many such light bulbs does it take to change a person? Who knows? Wisdom is less about changing and more about accepting the fullness of who we are, as we are, and then choosing to act from our brighter nature.  I can think of at least five Star Trek references I could use to make this point crystal clear, but I am choosing not to unfurl my Inner Geek again...for the moment.

The Crescent Sun

"You are perfect just as you are. And you can use a little improvement." Suzuki Roshi

This is one of my favorite quotes because it gets to the heart of our human predicament. We are part perfect and part neurotic, part evolving stardust and part self-absorbed couch potato, part divine and part selfish pig. The journey toward maturity and wholeness travels through the uncomfortable terrain of this paradox.

This past Sunday I watched the moon journey across the sky to eclipse the sun. As the moon obscured the sun's radiance, an unusual phenomenon occurred. The crescent sun created crescent shadows. Then, at the peak of the eclipse, the moon upstaged the sun's brilliance to form a mischievous Cheshire-cat grin.

This astronomical moment reminds me of our human condition: a centered Source of Brilliance orbited and occluded by ego's stony mass. Our inner greatness casts long shadows when ego blocks its light. The ego, which helps us survive by creating stories and strategies to cope with life, takes itself a bit too seriously. As those stories and strategies calcify into rigid ways of thinking and a defended self-image, we experience ourselves more as stony mass and less as Inner Brilliance.

That stony mass we've built up over a lifetime isn't going anywhere. So you can stop wasting energy trying to get rid of it or pretty it up. It is what it is. A more productive pursuit is to focus on embodying your Inner Brilliance each day. When you do that, ego's stories seem less solid. Is that really true about me, about that other person, about how life works? Are there other possibilities? Is there room for some light here?

When you step more fully into your human potential, don't be surprised if the most unattractive, controlling, selfish parts of yourself also arise and try to eclipse your sunlight. Ego's job is to maintain a comfortable homeostasis, and growth is rarely comfortable. So don't freak out when you cast crescent shadows. This is normal. With time and intention, you can become more skilled at seeing and navigating your ego's patterns so that eclipses become rarer and your true humanity shines more freely and brilliantly. Who knows? Perhaps the crescent shadow you've been casting is a sign that a luminous part of you is ready to blaze like never before.