I've been thinking about dying lately. People in Japan are facing death as I write this. One woman talked about her father being employed at a nuclear power plant, and he was staying to try to minimize the damage because he already knew he wasn't going to get out of there alive.
Ten years ago, people in the towers in New York faced death with no recourse, and from all accounts, they bravely did everything they could.
And I have clients come to me so depressed, so distraught with how things are going in their lives that they wish they could just die.
I've felt that way myself. A couple of years ago, facing my worst financial disaster, part of me just wanted to die so I wouldn't have to feel so much shame and pain.
And we watch TV shows, movies, read books about death and never seem to tire of the subject.
So I asked myself this morning, am I afraid to die? How would I feel if I knew that the power plant near my home was exploding and saturating the air with radioactive particles. Would I panic? What would I do?
I have no way of actually knowing the answer to that, so I can only make up a story based on what I believe to be true. One of the things that kept me from choosing death as an option during times of great duress in the past was a little voice inside me, reminding me that even if I did die, I would wake up to another state of awareness. I can't know what that state is--we've all seen or heard about people with near death experiences seeing the light, the white light, or seeing a tunnel, or seeing some sort of vision that calms them, gives them a new sense of meaning to their current lives when they wake up.
And even though I haven't had one of those, from everything I've read, studied, been taught and experienced, I saw so clearly this morning that the reason I don't choose death, and the reason I think I would remain calm in the face of impending doom, is that I need not be afraid of something that isn't possible.
Yes, I could die from this body, and this life that I love so much. But I wouldn't die from myself. I absolutely know that.
Many years ago I heard one of my metaphysical teachers say it this way, "if life could actually die, then it would cease to be life, and that is impossible." I didn't quite believe her at the time, because I was in my twenties, I had a lot to learn and experience to be able to even comprehend a statement like that.
And now I'm 63 and I feel like it is true. I feel it--in my body, in my heart and it remains an underlying conviction that seems, at least right now, unshakable.
So what is all this pain, death and dying really about? Why do we experience it? Read about it? Flock to movies about it? Another thing I learned from a teacher is this: "any individuals, organisms or organizations not working toward a higher purpose will cease to exist."
If that is true, then this organization we call the human experience--with all its joy and sorrow, pain and pleasure, and life and "death" experiences must have a higher purpose, else why would it exist? And the only purpose I can really come to, and reach over and over, is Love.
These experiences are all teaching us how to love ourselves, each other and our lives, master the business of life and turn our lead into gold.
Our burdens, our fears, our difficulties, our challenges all hold within them the seeds of opportunity, to paraphrase Napoleon Hill. We can let them drain us and bog us down or we can face them and find the gold in them.
And so it is crystal clear to me that is why I say that to myself each morning when I wake up, reminding myself of my own life purpose. I can't imagine any other true reason for us to be here.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Life Entrepreneurs Look Back at Past Adventures
Late last night I was winding down about to go to bed when I got a call from a friend who was channel surfing and had run across the Tucson Festival of Books on CSPAN and discovered a panel of three people from the 1960s era talking about their experiences.
The man on the panel was Mark Rudd, there to talk about My Life with SDS and the Weathermen. SDS stands for Students for a Democratic Society and Mark was famous for having led the sit-ins at Columbia University in 1968, fanning the fire of the growing student movement (which we all called The Movement).
It is so interesting to see someone you haven't see in 40 years and both recognize him and remember so much about him. I was a member of SDS back in the late 60s. For those of us who were against the war in Viet Nam, wanted to open admissions up and break the power of racism on our college campuses, it was really the only place to be!
We were bright, we were energetic, and we were influential in society. There was an upheaval of protest that swept our country. Yes, especially in the southern part of the US, in states like Texas, there weren't that many of us, but we fed on the actions of those in the north--we watched with envy the sit-ins and the demonstrations where there were actually enough people to look like a crowd.
In my little part of the world, we were controversial to say the least. During the summer of 1968 a group of 6 of us got arrested on the campus of North Texas State University (now University of North Texas) for distributing "indecent and obscene literature." We were passing out leaflets that said "the elections don't mean shit--there is very little difference between Hubert Humphrey and Richard Nixon." Oddly enough, the jury couldn't agree on convicting us, so when one person went to trial and it resulted in a hung jury, they dropped the charges and we went on our merry way.
I was what was then referred to as an itinerant agitator--which meant I traveled around to campuses in Texas and Oklahoma trying to get SDS chapters going. I have to admit, we weren't enormously successful, as the political climate around here just wasn't that conducive to uprisings of students. Most were paying little attention to Viet Nam, unless they lost their deferments and were subject to the draft; and racism was such a way of life here, that it didn't rattle many cages for us to talk about it.
Our biggest success was at the University of Houston, which at that time had a very low enrollment of black students even though it sat in the middle of a mainly black section of southeast Houston. Most of the local kids were shuffled off to Texas Southern University, which at that time was much smaller, less well endowed, and considered second rate.
We staged marches around the campus to wake up action to open up admissions to black people. We moved from building to building, and Mark Rudd flew into Houston for a day and helped me make speeches about changing the school. A LOT of people turned out--which was amazing--but it actually seemed to be a cause that mattered to even the white local students that made up the enrollment. Amid lots of cheering and chanting, we had a heady feeling that we were making a difference!
Mark went back to New York and our group continued protesting the next day, culminating in a short take-over of the Safety and Security office, where I jumped up on a desk and made a rousing speech which ended with, "now let's march to the Student Center!" Those were my "fatal words" it turned out because some wild kids ran ahead of us and decided to make a point by tearing up things and generally making a mess. Unbeknownst to me, this would later be considered a riot, and I would be accused of inciting it.
Being someone very much against any form of destruction of property, I followed these kids shouting, "stop!" but by then it had gotten out of hand, so we quickly dispersed and hoped that the activity would just die down. The next day, thinking it was all over, I decided to leave Texas and move up to New York and hang out with Mark and some other friends and see what fun I could have being involved in The Movement for real, up where the Real SDS people were.
It was so exciting to be in New York City and ride the subway--learn how to eat pizza by the slice--get temp jobs in off the wall offices to make money. I loved it! I lasted there about 3 months, but soon ended up paying the price for my speech by actually being arrested for incitement to riot. I'll have to write about that adventure another time.
Seeing Mark brought all that flooding back to me--and I had a chance to look at how much being a part of that Movement had affected my life. And I also realized how deeply grateful I am that I moved on from it--that I found a deeper meaning, a higher sense of purpose than I could have developed if I had stayed in the purely political mode of thinking.
I love that I got involved, that I fought for things that mattered to me. And I love that I keep doing that in ways that work, that involve really smart people doing really meaningful things to change how we live together. That involvement got me aware of the huge responsibility we have--to be sure that we do all we can with all that we are given.
What a blessing! What a trip to be reminded of it!
The man on the panel was Mark Rudd, there to talk about My Life with SDS and the Weathermen. SDS stands for Students for a Democratic Society and Mark was famous for having led the sit-ins at Columbia University in 1968, fanning the fire of the growing student movement (which we all called The Movement).
It is so interesting to see someone you haven't see in 40 years and both recognize him and remember so much about him. I was a member of SDS back in the late 60s. For those of us who were against the war in Viet Nam, wanted to open admissions up and break the power of racism on our college campuses, it was really the only place to be!
We were bright, we were energetic, and we were influential in society. There was an upheaval of protest that swept our country. Yes, especially in the southern part of the US, in states like Texas, there weren't that many of us, but we fed on the actions of those in the north--we watched with envy the sit-ins and the demonstrations where there were actually enough people to look like a crowd.
In my little part of the world, we were controversial to say the least. During the summer of 1968 a group of 6 of us got arrested on the campus of North Texas State University (now University of North Texas) for distributing "indecent and obscene literature." We were passing out leaflets that said "the elections don't mean shit--there is very little difference between Hubert Humphrey and Richard Nixon." Oddly enough, the jury couldn't agree on convicting us, so when one person went to trial and it resulted in a hung jury, they dropped the charges and we went on our merry way.
I was what was then referred to as an itinerant agitator--which meant I traveled around to campuses in Texas and Oklahoma trying to get SDS chapters going. I have to admit, we weren't enormously successful, as the political climate around here just wasn't that conducive to uprisings of students. Most were paying little attention to Viet Nam, unless they lost their deferments and were subject to the draft; and racism was such a way of life here, that it didn't rattle many cages for us to talk about it.
Our biggest success was at the University of Houston, which at that time had a very low enrollment of black students even though it sat in the middle of a mainly black section of southeast Houston. Most of the local kids were shuffled off to Texas Southern University, which at that time was much smaller, less well endowed, and considered second rate.
We staged marches around the campus to wake up action to open up admissions to black people. We moved from building to building, and Mark Rudd flew into Houston for a day and helped me make speeches about changing the school. A LOT of people turned out--which was amazing--but it actually seemed to be a cause that mattered to even the white local students that made up the enrollment. Amid lots of cheering and chanting, we had a heady feeling that we were making a difference!
Mark went back to New York and our group continued protesting the next day, culminating in a short take-over of the Safety and Security office, where I jumped up on a desk and made a rousing speech which ended with, "now let's march to the Student Center!" Those were my "fatal words" it turned out because some wild kids ran ahead of us and decided to make a point by tearing up things and generally making a mess. Unbeknownst to me, this would later be considered a riot, and I would be accused of inciting it.
Being someone very much against any form of destruction of property, I followed these kids shouting, "stop!" but by then it had gotten out of hand, so we quickly dispersed and hoped that the activity would just die down. The next day, thinking it was all over, I decided to leave Texas and move up to New York and hang out with Mark and some other friends and see what fun I could have being involved in The Movement for real, up where the Real SDS people were.
It was so exciting to be in New York City and ride the subway--learn how to eat pizza by the slice--get temp jobs in off the wall offices to make money. I loved it! I lasted there about 3 months, but soon ended up paying the price for my speech by actually being arrested for incitement to riot. I'll have to write about that adventure another time.
Seeing Mark brought all that flooding back to me--and I had a chance to look at how much being a part of that Movement had affected my life. And I also realized how deeply grateful I am that I moved on from it--that I found a deeper meaning, a higher sense of purpose than I could have developed if I had stayed in the purely political mode of thinking.
I love that I got involved, that I fought for things that mattered to me. And I love that I keep doing that in ways that work, that involve really smart people doing really meaningful things to change how we live together. That involvement got me aware of the huge responsibility we have--to be sure that we do all we can with all that we are given.
What a blessing! What a trip to be reminded of it!
Monday, March 7, 2011
Life Entrepreneurs Are in Constant Renewal
I'm in heaven at the moment, watching all the wonderful plants and flowers start to pop up in my garden. Five years ago, my niece wanted to have her wedding pictures taken in my back yard so I set out to re-landscape and have watched it develop and fill out until now I am simply in awe of the amazing things that happen when you plant and tend to a garden.
I must admit, I'm not the garden tender, except indirectly. I pay a wonderful woman named Marie-Theres to do that part, as I learned many years ago that I didn't have a green thumb for plants. I can help people grow into the lives they would love to live, but when it comes to plants, encouragement is about all I can offer!
Watching the plants bud first then sort of explode into something has sent me into noticing how similar our experiences are to what happens with plants--especially in the way we work and work on something, allow the cycle of nature to complete itself, then we get the big reward of new growth. When I am impatient, try to hurry things along, I find that all I get is stress. The process takes as long as it takes.
So, if I step back and really observe myself, I can see that my frustrating moments in life are a little like a plant trying to push itself up out of the soil--takes a lot of effort, and how do we know whether the plant feels that or not? And once it has pushed through, the roots continue to deepen, the greenery unfolds itself, and the buds don't show up until the weather conditions warrant a safe environment.
Sometimes we get a false signal, just like plants when an early warm spell brings out blooms before the weather has truly settled into spring, and many times those blooms don't last because of frost. In the same way I have seen myself project my imagination forward and thought I saw what I wanted and made up a story about it, only to realize I had jumped the gun and not been aware of the whole picture. Which led to disappointment, killing off the bloom of possibility for that moment.
We can do all the right things, plant our seeds at the right time of the year, water and fertilize them, be patient and let them grow, clean out the weeds that pop up around them, stay with our process and very likely we will get what we desire. However, sometimes, no matter how hard we try, the plant just doesn't grow right and we have to let it die off.
Isn't that true of ideas, projects and relationships? If we could be detached enough, could we see that we are in a process of constant renewal? That sometimes our blossoms don't come to fruition, but we still have the possibility of more in the future? Would we be more likely to take set-backs in stride and just see ourselves continually moving forward?
I must admit, I'm not the garden tender, except indirectly. I pay a wonderful woman named Marie-Theres to do that part, as I learned many years ago that I didn't have a green thumb for plants. I can help people grow into the lives they would love to live, but when it comes to plants, encouragement is about all I can offer!
Watching the plants bud first then sort of explode into something has sent me into noticing how similar our experiences are to what happens with plants--especially in the way we work and work on something, allow the cycle of nature to complete itself, then we get the big reward of new growth. When I am impatient, try to hurry things along, I find that all I get is stress. The process takes as long as it takes.
So, if I step back and really observe myself, I can see that my frustrating moments in life are a little like a plant trying to push itself up out of the soil--takes a lot of effort, and how do we know whether the plant feels that or not? And once it has pushed through, the roots continue to deepen, the greenery unfolds itself, and the buds don't show up until the weather conditions warrant a safe environment.
Sometimes we get a false signal, just like plants when an early warm spell brings out blooms before the weather has truly settled into spring, and many times those blooms don't last because of frost. In the same way I have seen myself project my imagination forward and thought I saw what I wanted and made up a story about it, only to realize I had jumped the gun and not been aware of the whole picture. Which led to disappointment, killing off the bloom of possibility for that moment.
We can do all the right things, plant our seeds at the right time of the year, water and fertilize them, be patient and let them grow, clean out the weeds that pop up around them, stay with our process and very likely we will get what we desire. However, sometimes, no matter how hard we try, the plant just doesn't grow right and we have to let it die off.
Isn't that true of ideas, projects and relationships? If we could be detached enough, could we see that we are in a process of constant renewal? That sometimes our blossoms don't come to fruition, but we still have the possibility of more in the future? Would we be more likely to take set-backs in stride and just see ourselves continually moving forward?
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