One of my great passions is learning the truth with a small "t" behind many of the things we take for granted. For me, it's practice for learning the Truth with a big "T." For instance, most of us assume that giving a diamond wedding ring to the bride is an ancient custom passed down through the millenia. Nope, basically it was a slick advertising campaign started in the 1930s, and financed by the diamond cartel DeBeers, to boost a slumping diamond market. The marketing geniuses were able to turn essentially worthless carbon crystals (they are good for certain types of drills) into great symbols of courtship and marriage. And by creating the illusion that diamonds are gifts that should never be sold or given away, they protected the market for diamonds. Because unless you're holding on to the Hope diamond, the actual chances of you recovering the cost of the average diamond on the open market are pretty much nil. So, while the diamond may not really be forever, we can rest assured the advertising will be. Along those lines, a couple of stories, actually, a book and a news article caught my eye this week. One was a Time magazine article about how overrated exercising at the gym is, especially when it comes to weight loss and fitness. As Robert Scheinfeld likes to say, "That's true, and somehow I've always known it." The book, "Moneyball," by Michael Lewis takes the quest for truth to an entirely other level. It is a thoroughly joyful dismantling of many of the myths behind our great American pastime. For those of a more tender age, that would be Major League Baseball, not surfing for porn. "Moneyball" tells the story of how the Oakland A's, one of the least financially viable franchises in baseball was able to put together a stunning run of successful seasons, competing against teams that had two or three times the amount of money to spend. The key to it all, the author explains, was the willingness to throw out more than 100 years of baseball "wisdom" and start from scratch. The A's management was Inspired by a generation of pioneering researchers, namely Bill James, who in the late 1970s began analyzing hallowed baseball statistics and devising new ways to look at the true value of baseball players and the underlying mechanics of the game. It was then up to A's general manager Billy Beane, to actually implement new strategies based on this knowledge and make them manifest on the field. The revolution threw everyone off balance in the A's organization. The opinions of scouts, with decades worth of experiencing finding ballplayers fit for the major leagues, were suddenly discarded for computer printouts. The A's drafted many players sight unseen, based on new insights into their statistics. Many of the players were unknown to the other teams, and a good lot of them didn't even resemble athletes. (one pitcher had two club feet) But they got the job done. Essentially, Beane and company were able to see through the illusions of how the worth of players was typically judged (body size, foot speed, meaningless statistics) to realize what they actually produced on the field. The same principles applied to the hoary traditions of baseball strategy and Beane saw that his teams played to the new paradigm. It took vision, nerve and diligence. One interesting aspect of this was that the rest of major league baseball, with a couple of minor exceptions, either looked the other way, or attacked this attack against tradition, many without having ever read the book. And teams continue to throw ungodly amounts of appreciation at ball players and continued to struggle, or like the Yankees and Red Sox, just buy everything in sight and sometimes succeeded. It's just easier to put power in the lie than it is to try another way. As a practitioner of Busting Loose, this somehow all made sense. In baseball, the results don't lie. Either you won or you lost. With your spiritual practice, it either affects you, or it doesn't. It's pretty easy to tell if something is working. So I don't know that anyone has attacked "Busting Loose," like they attacked "Moneyball," and I certainly hope not to manifest that. But as with the Oakland A's, Robert has gone against almost everything we hold as true in presenting a radically new philosophy of living and playing. Be thankful you have the tools to challenge the lies and the courage to follow through. Batter up.
"A relationship was not meant to be the joining at the hip of two emotional invalids." From "A Return to Love" by Marianne Williamson As I was considering how I would follow up on my initial foray into Phase 2 relationships, I was re-reading a book by Marianne Williamson which provides some cogent insights from A Course in Miracles. I want to touch on several points that she makes because with just a little translation, we are reading what I believe is the explanation for unsatisfactory Phase 1 relationships and the blueprint for Phase 2 relationships. Let's start with the big picture. The type of relationship most of us sought in the past (but not now, right?) is the result of cutting ourselves off from God. In Busting Loose terms, because we don't remember who we are, we end up seeking someone to cover up that niggling feeling that we're missing our infinitely abundant selves. -- In ACIM, we are told that we are brought together with others for teaching purposes. Some for a short period of time -- the guy at the laundromat dressed in a garbage bag predicting the end of the world. Some for longer periods -the first ex-husband. Some forever -- you know who you are. In BL, other creations are here to reflect back something we feel about ourselves, give a gift of insight or set something in motion that supports us. The teaching part continues for as long as we need to do the Process to reclaim our power, then disappears. Intimate relationships just force us to do the learning a lot faster. -- In ACIM, Williamson explains, that the "special relationship" makes other people -- their behavior, their choices, their opinions of us -- too important. It makes us think we need another person, when in fact, we are complete and whole as we are. Ditto for Busting Loose. We give power to the illusion of the "other," then are disappointed when our prince or princess doesn't lead us back to "Infiniteland" and our wholeness. -- And one last item from "A Return to Love." "The purpose of the special relationship (Phase 1) is to teach us to hate ourselves, while the purpose of a holy relationship (Phase 2) is to heal our self-loathing." Ouch. Where'd the fairy tale go? Which gets me back to the original quote and the somewhat pathetic image that conjures up (although I still recognize even that image as a Phase 1 miracle.) Phase 1 relationships are typically about looking for something "out there" because we "in here" are not good enough. The belief in romantic love must be recognized for the less than truthful construction it is, leaving us to ponder the question of whether a true Phase 2 relationship means one that we don't actually have with another person. In other words, since the relationship is always with ourselves (God, Expanded Self) do we really need that other person, or are they just getting in the way? In Phase 1, it seems apparent that Expanded Self wants us to experience the full range of feeling with another person, until we stop screaming long enough to pick up a copy of "Busting Loose." In the expansion part of Phase 2, the intimate relationship provides us with more opportunities to feel discomfort, but this time with the option of doing the Process and reclaiming power. But in the play phase of Phase 2, where we ultimately end up, we would be so joyful and expansive that we'd be happy with or without an intimate relationship. Now, as usual, I leave a lot more questions than answers. But assuming you chose to have a relationship for fun, what might this alleged relationship look like? How long might it last? Does it involve multiple non-sexual partners? Does it involve sex at some point? How much sex? What kind of sex? Sorry, getting carried away. What I meant to say was how would an intimate relationship support our playing in Phase 2? I'm waiting....
One of the great gifts of Busting Loose is the chance to re-invent ourselves on the playing field while we do the serious behind-the-scenes work through the Process. I'm seeing so many more possibilities that I didn't realize before. I think for most of us, it's not on the level of gee, I'd like to be President of the United States. And, in fact, who really wants that? What a pain in the ass. I can't imagine having to spend 16 hours a day dealing with politicians, radio talk show hosts, angry vegetarians and the cast of "Fantasy Island," aka North Korea. Frankly, as a guy and a Player, I'd rather grow up to be Johnny Depp -- all the notoriety and half the grief, 50 times the money, a 45-acre private island in the Bahamas, a creative outlet in the movies. Plus, I get to play a pirate. Arrgggh. Women, I'm thinking Oprah? Kate Winslett? Angela Merckel? I don't know, you tell me. We have plenty of creations to choose from. (Oh, then there's the guy whose "job" was to eat his way through the two most famous culinary regions of Italy and decide which made the best food. Arrrggh indeed.) For me, it's started out on a little less grand level. it's a combination of realizing what I can play at now, and what I would like to discard. Sort of like the guy in a series of radio commercials for STP Oil, the "I don't wanna be that guy" guy. He laments not being able to do simple manly things like changing the oil in his car, home repairs or hunting. He knows more about cooking oil than motor oil. He wants to get grease on his hands. I can relate. I don't want to be that guy who looks at everything through the prism of whether he can afford it or not. I don't want to be that guy who sits in front of his computer 13 hours a day until his eyes bleed and his brain synapses fry because he's too lazy to get out of the house. I don't want to be that guy who cruises travel sites every day, but never books a flight anywhere. I don't want to be the guy who settles for a McDonald's hamburger when he could be eating sushi -- in Japan. I don't want to be the guy who uses coupons at the grocery store. I don't want to be the guy with basic cable when he could have HBO and Cinemax. I don't want to be the guy who takes his date to an art reception because there will be free food and wine. You get my point. Eventually, as I realize what I don't want to be, when I understand the limitations I've put on myself, then I can start playing in a bigger arena. For example, I've noticed a change in my response to the question, "what do you do?" No, I'm not answering, "I seek enlightenment through a process called Busting Loose, so that I can realize my true essence as an infinitely abundant and joyful being." I haven't quite come out of the closet in that regard. But now the answer is along the lines of, "Well, this week, I'm writing a screenplay and solving the newspaper crisis." Or "Today, I'm producing a television show and saving the non-profit arts community." Or "Next week, I'm launching an internet marketing campaign and I'm going to give the local music scene an international presence and make it bigger than Austin." I'm thinking bigger and more creatively. I don't want to confine myself. I'm realizing I'm more than just a persona defined by a certain set of skills and society's expectations -- and my own stories. Plus I get bored easily. So one crusade morphs into another depending on whether I'm still having fun with it. But I'm expanding as a Player in ways I would never have considered before. I'm approaching people I would never have approached, just for the fun of doing it, and asking for things I would never have asked for, for the same reason. The response isn't even important. It's the taking the chance that is fun. Understanding we are living in an illusion of our own creation is the mother of re-invention. So take a minute and think about what you're doing this week. Anyone for tennis and buying a villa in Tuscany? Thought so.
The Space & Times Sunday Book Review Robert Scheinfeld's "Busting Loose From the Business Game" is the not-quite sequel to, the not-quite clone of, his bestselling "Busting Loose From the Money Game." After reading it this weekend, I was pleasantly surprised and I mean that as a huge compliment. To put that in perspective, "Busting Loose From the Money Game" changed my life. To expect "Business Game" to change my life again is probably a bit much. To be honest, I cracked "Business Game" expecting a re-hash of "Money Game," with some business buzzwords and concepts thrown in to appeal to a new market. And indeed, there is a definite appeal to the business-minded. But what makes the new book worth exploring is the combination of subtle re-wordings, added passages, shifts in emphasis and expanded explanations of Robert's basic philosophical message. (For those not familiar with Robert's work, here is a link to my quick and dirty explanation of what it's all about.) So even though I consider myself well-versed in the principles of Busting Loose, I did come away with a deeper, more coherent understanding of them. I think there are two reasons for this. I liken this experience to my repeated readings of A Course in Miracles in the '90s. I was intrigued by ACIM because the Truth was in it. (And I find ACIM very supportive of Busting Loose) I began to realize this when passages I had read and studied a dozen times, would suddenly reveal a new insight -- as I became ready to receive them. The Truth just gets deeper and deeper. I felt the same sensation as I read "Business Game." But Robert has also obviously been listening to his creations and has done a good job of simply clarifying points that had caused confusion. My perfectionist aspect appreciates that. Beginners will also appreciate the re-working. Although I do not hesitate to refer people to the "Money Game," the path through "Business Game," in my opinion, is easier to follow, the message more easily absorbed. Here are a few examples of what jumped out at me, and forgive me if these things were actually in "Money Game" and I just missed them. On page 113, Robert notes "A belief is nothing but an idea or concept we make up and accept as true. All beliefs are lies, Phase 1 Miracle illusions. There is no such thing as empowering beliefs. In Phase 2, we don't change beliefs, we exchange them for the truth." A subtle but important distinction. On page 137, he writes that the Expanded Self will "Create patterns in The Field designed to support you in reexperiencing -- in various ways, shapes and forms through amazing stories -- the key limiting and restrictive patterns you created to lock yourself into Phase 1." While most of us started the Busting Loose process with great anticipation, and dare I say, hope that things in our life would change immediately, Robert reminds us that we will have to re-visit and process the limiting patterns before we can actually bust loose. The reexperience is the first gift of Phase 2, although it may not feel like it. Robert is a font of metaphors, and keeping track of all the eggs, cloud covers, holograms, movies and sports examples is a full-time game in itself. But I enjoyed the "prison break" metaphor he employs when discussing how most of us are "profoundly impatient" about the Busting Loose journey. He likens the journey to being in (a Phase 1) prison and possessing only a spoon with which to dig an escape tunnel. We have no choice but to be patient. It is only our judgment about the time the journey takes that hinders us. There are plenty of other examples, but the point is that for me, the author has made the process, purpose and experience of Phase 2 easier to understand in the "Business Game." I think for most readers being exposed to this radical philosophy for the first -- or second -- time, it makes the work more accessible. Although on its surface, "Money Game" would seem to have a broader appeal among the public since nearly everyone is involved in the Money Game, not everyone in the Business Game, per se, I would probably recommend the "Business Game" over the "Money Game" if someone forced me to pick one. But as we know, there are no wrong choices, and that is definitely the case here. I encourage you to read it yourself and let me know your experience of it. *** You may order the book here if you are so moved. (Scroll to the bottom of the page.) In the meantime, be sure to check back for my review of "The Quantum Activist," the new documentary about Amit Goswami. Also, thanks to everyone who came out to see the sneak preview of the movie, and my film, "The Language of Spirituality" on Saturday.
More than 20 years ago, I felt moved to explore Nichiren Shoshu Buddhism, which involves among other things, chanting prayers twice a day and repeating the mantra nam myoho renge kyo.
It started when my former wife and I called a friend one afternoon and heard this mysterious chanting in the background. When we inquired about it, the friend invited us to a meeting the next week.
The wife and I both attended and met an interesting group of practitioners, participated in the chanting and talked afterwards. I felt a great sense of peace from the chanting and I was hooked. The wife, not so much. But that was okay, Different strokes.
I returned the next week and after chanting, the group sat and around and talked, led by a guy named Bob. I don't remember a whole lot of the discussion, but I remember Bob saying that once you started with the practice, something in your life would shift pretty quickly. It might be "bad," it might be "good," but something would change.
i nodded as if I knew, then went home. Within the week, the wife asked me for a divorce.
Now, I'm not going to lie and say that this was totally out of the blue. We had been working through our issues for some time. But divorce? Now? Really?
Literally, my first was reaction was, "Damn, Bob was right." Then I promptly settled into the illusion of pain, separation, self-doubt, hatred, devastation, fear for my son's well-being and all the other pleasant things we typically associate with divorce.
To my credit, I continued the daily rituals, attended meetings, even joined the local temple, as all about me my life seemed to be falling apart.
Thankfully, the request for divorce was not the only major shift in my life. I distinctly recall waking up one morning, about three months later, feeling a profound peace. I knew at that moment that I would survive the divorce and I would be happy again. I attribute that, too, to my diligent practice of nam myoho renge ko.
All this came flooding back as I read Robert Scheinfeld's new book, "Busting Loose From the Business Game." He goes on at length to explain that Busting Loose is not an overnight process, and that we can expect some serious changes.
In other words, the journey of spiritual transformation is not for wusses.
It's funny the beliefs that we've created around spirituality. Some critics view it as something that they don't have time for, a disembodied practice, designed for self-absorbed, navel-gazing vegan hippies and lost, mindless souls too weak to confront "reality" on its own terms. Spirituality is a cheap and easy escape to la la land. Don't let the door hit you in the aura on the way out.
In truth, many of us spiritual travelers began with an equally inaccurate view of the journey. We plunge in believing that learning this practice or this spiritual formula will help us "transcend" our earthly problems in a single bound. If only I do this, life will get "better." Don't forget to tape that new affirmation to the bathroom mirror.
Those of us who have played the spirituality game know better now. It's like walking into a biker bar at 1 a.m. Start something and the shit is going to hit the fan. Going deep into transformation requires courage and faith that few of us ever call upon.
So when certain other aspects cast a jaundiced eye at you, or sneeringly inquire, "still Busting Loose, are you?", just remember, you're on the spiritual equivalent of the running of the bulls at Pamplona. Run like hell and don't look back. You may get gored on the way, but it's going to be okay.
By the way, check back in Sunday for my review of "Busting Loose From the Business Game."
.
The news that the former cast of "Seinfeld" is going to reunite on the cable hit "Curb Your Enthusiasm," brought back some fond memories. As I noted in a previous post, I gave up my long-running obsession for watching "Seinfeld" re-runs last fall. I'm sure I've forgotten a few classic lines or episodes. But what I won't forget is the Zen of Seinfeld, one of the most underrated sources of spiritual inspiration on the planet.
One of my favorite episodes was "The Opposite." The episode opens with Jerry, Elaine and George sitting in the diner, waiting to order lunch. George gives one of the most heartfelt speeches of his life. I quote it here:
"It all became very clear to me sitting out there today that every decision i've ever made in my entire life has been wrong. My life is the complete opposite of everything I want it to be. Every instinct I have in every aspect of life....it's all been wrong."
The waitress checks in at the table and confirms that George wants the usual, tuna on toast. George quickly assents, then changes his mind. and delivers a Zen koan of a line.
"I want the complete opposite of tuna on toast."
Weirdly enough, that sort of sums up my attraction to Robert Scheinfeld's Busting Loose teachings. I'm not sure exactly what I want, but it's the opposite of something.
As the show unfolds, George proceeds to do everything the opposite of what he would normally do, with great success in every facet of his life.
Now, putting aside the judgment of his life and whether we can make a wrong decision, I always thought George was on to something. For me, the concept of "opposite" first appeared in my use of empowering language, a concept that I had explored before Seinfeld or Scheinfeld.
In a few selected instances, saying something completely alien to my instincts worked miracles and helped me reclaim power.
One time it involved a woman I'll call Helen Wheels, a competitor at the rival newspaper. In the early 90s, i had put myself through a particularly upsetting breakup with a girlfriend, we'll call her Roz, who also worked at the rival newspaper. Every time Helen saw me during this period, she would feign some concern, only to deliver a dagger to my heart with a tidbit about Roz and her life, which I was no longer part of. I had given Helen the power to hurt me.
Several months after our breakup, and still admittedly not quite over it, I ran into Helen and her husband at a local coffee shop. Helen was not 30 seconds into the conversation before she mentioned that Roz was currently in Paris with her new boyfriend. For just a moment, I let the emotions wash over me, then quickly realized what she was up to.
"Have you ever been to Paris in spring?" I asked Helen. "It's really beautiful. I'll bet they're having a great time." I went on for a couple more minutes about the wonders of Paris, but I could see Helen was bewildered. I felt like I'd just dumped a bucket of water on the Wicked Witch of the West. She never mentioned Roz in my presence again. I had reclaimed the power from that illusion.
Another time, I began a torrid affair with a (single) soccer mom, whose son played on the team I coached. It ended badly when she broke up with me a few months later, on Valentine's Day. I could not have scripted this drama any better.
The problem was, we still had an entire season to go and I really didn't want to continue to see her at every practice and game. My discomfort, mixed with anger, was getting the best of me. I did not know how I would survive the rest of the season.
I mentioned my upset to a friend, Rob, and explained how I thought she needed to apologize for the terrible way she had treated me. Rob, in his wisdom, suggested I apologize to her. This pissed me off even more.
But after the next practice, I walked over to her car and apologized to her for not behaving gracefully in the aftermath of our breakup and not being sensitive to how difficult the decision must have been for her. Something like that. She burst into tears and apologized to me. It was a breakthrough. My power came back. The rest of the season passed quickly and we remained friends afterwards.
So now, when my awareness is aware, I will occasionally consider people and situations that are uncomfortable and think about what I could say that would not necessarily smooth over a situation, but grab the power right back. It often involves delving into my deepest fears and saying something unimaginable in my Phase 1 moments, but something that my Expanded Self would have no problem yelling from the rooftops.
It might be something like announcing to an employee at the IRS office, "No problem, Agent Smith, the two-hour wait to talk to you was an exquisite opportunity to review my life and personal finances. I appreciate your giving me a moment of your time and most importantly, allowing me to express my appreciation for what you and the IRS do with this large cashier's check."
Hey, it's worth a try.
In "The Opposite," Elaine tells George the beautiful woman at the lunch counter is looking at him, Instead of rationalizing why he's not worthy of approaching her, George goes against all his instincts, walks over and delivers this suave line.
"My name is George. I'm unemployed and I live with my parents." And he gets the girl. I'm just saying....
I was reading Arnold Patent's Universal Principles last night, some light non-fiction reading before bedtime. Arnold, of course, is one of Robert Scheinfeld's mentors, and from what I have read of his teachings, he takes a bit more of a spiritual approach to the same material, and I like that. (Others are free to enlighten me on Arnold. I know some have direct experience with him.) The statement that struck me was "Every person and circumstance in our lives is there to support us by reflecting back to us the present state of our consciousness." I had just returned from a small show featuring a singer/songwriter, and enjoyed it in the company of about 30 people, 1/3 of whom I knew personally. Some I've known for a while, some not that long. But I realized that I was surrounded with people whose company I enjoy. Part of that is what they are reflecting back about my consciousness. I feel appreciated. Which is a roundabout way of saying my consciousness is in pretty good shape these days, at least around the other aspects in my hologram. I've always prided myself on the interesting, unusual friends I've attracted over the years. They come and go but they're always interesting. Now, there have always been some people I've attracted that caused me heartburn and stress, but that was just chalked up to being a necessary part of living. Maybe it's only semantic, but there was still a feeling pre-BL they were all separate in a way, as opposed to seeing them as reflections of myself. I had done something "out there" to make them like me (or irritate the crap out of me), as opposed to, I had changed something within to manifest them. I drifted back to a story that has stayed with me for more than 40 years. Back in third grade, when trading baseball cards really meant something, a classmate told me he had a Sandy Koufax card he was willing to trade. I was excited. Koufax was one of the all-time great Major League pitchers and I couldn't wait to get my hands on the card. The next day he met me on the playground. "You got the Koufax?" I asked. "Nope. Forgot it. Bring it tomorrow." This "Waiting for Koufax" routine went on every school day for what in my memory seems like months, but in real time may have only been a few days or weeks. I'm sure I eventually stopped asking, or he and his family moved to Waukesha. I don't remember. But what I did remember was that I was gullible. I could be taken advantage of by someone or something out there. (As you read on my home page, I even thought Robert Scheinfeld would take advantage of me. Maybe that's why I became a journalist, so I could nail the bastards.) That leads me to the lack of appreciation egg, which sits in the basket next to the gullibility egg. (Eggs are "issues" for the unitiated.) The other long-running soap opera in my life has been feeling a lack of appreciation. No matter how well I did something, how much I achieved, how dedicated I was to whatever illusory "cause," how well I treated a girlfriend, friend, colleague, enemy, I was never good enough. In the last seven months, Post-Busting Loose, I see things differently. As I began doing the process and appreciating myself and my power, voila, the supportive aspects started showing up in droves, and I mean droves. Within three weeks of reading the Money Game, I had manifested a weekly meeting where I met 10 other dedicated BLers. I attended Robert's retreat in Sedona in April where I met another 80, many of whom I am still in touch with. In business and through business, I've created a couple dozen people that I am now working with on various projects, and whom I trust implicitly and reflect back to me much appreciation. When I decided I wanted to write screenplays for a living, a partner popped out of the hologram, without me even asking. I have two great writing partners now. Out of the blue last week, a former business partner from whom I've been sort of estranged recently, called me for drinks. We engaged cordially for two hours. (Margaritas do help that process.) And I must make mention of my dozens of Another Way and Facebook fans. I've received unqualified praise and support for what I'm doing, so a big round of applause for yourself. There is a rumor that my grade school will be hosting a 40-year reunion next year. Wouldn't miss it for the world. I still have all my hair, which in my mind trumps a Ph.D or a medical degree. But most importantly, I'm going for the Koufax card. How do a Frank Robinson and Boog Powell sound?
Even before I took up Busting Loose, I was becoming less and less interested in the things of this world. It started about a year ago when my partner and I decided to split up. The impending end of that phase of our long-term relationship scared me straight.
Almost overnight, I lost interest in cable TV, politics -- then news in general. To put this in perspective, I was a newspaper reporter/editor for 25 years. it was the height of the presidential campaign and I was watching MSNBC political coverage and reading political blogs 6-8 hours a day. News junkie does not even begin to cover it. I wanted to know every twist in the campaign and lambaste everyone on websites who thought differently than me. Finally, last July, I decided who I was going to vote for, that nothing was going to change and I'd tune back in on Election Day. I did, said a prayer for Obama, and tuned back out.
From a Phase 1 perspective, I had been in denial for a long time that TV, politics, sports, cruising the Internet were merely huge time sucks which took away from other things I might want to do. My judgment was that they were distractions for my unhappiness in my relationship and my life. They were a lot of things, except supportive. But I found justifications everywhere.
After I moved out of the house, Expanded Self reinforced this by having me move in with a friend of mine who had a TV, but only got local channels. There went the "House" re-runs, and although I could still watch "Seinfeld" every night -- something I had done for literally years -- I chose not to. Besides, my buddy had to watch his "Stargate" DVDs about that time.
But my lack of interest accelerated after I tuned in to Busting Loose. Then I understood that not only were these things Phase 1 time sucks, but that they fed into my illusion that the physical world was all real -- the economic crisis, global warming, hunger and Susan Boyle.
Soon, I could not even stand to turn on NPR in the morning, because I just didn't want to listen about this crisis or that catastrophe. It grated. I tuned out radio talk shows forever. TV news -- verboten. I occasionally read the daily newspaper when I'm bored. But it's a quick read. Want me to join your cause on Facebook? That's pretty much not happening. Even sports became less and less of an interest and for the people who know me, that's almost inconceivable. (Go Bucks!) Except for an occasional online rant about the health care bill up for consideration, I mind my own business.
It's sometimes difficult to finesse an explanation to one of my "aspects," (people who appear to be other individuals in the hologram, for those of you not into Busting Loose yet) especially those not in Phase 2, about why the "existence" of starving children in Africa doesn't move me. It sometimes reflects back to me as cold and self-absorbed. But to me, it means to me that I have a lot of beliefs to un-learn about "reality."
Then again, I just have to smile at the futility of those aspects who are diligently trying to change the hologram from the outside, playing a game they can never win.
Dropping out has been my path, and I don't necessarily recommend it for everyone. I can't say has been like a near-death experience, where I saw the light at the end of the tunnel, came back and began appreciating every butterfly alighting on the petal of every rose, then wrote a best-selling book about it.
No, not quite that dramatic.
But, it has given me the space and time to rediscover what would be really fun for me in Phase 2, to take responsibility for my fun, in a sense. For the last few months that has been writing screenplays, blogging, producing TV shows, promoting indie filmmakers and generally expressing my creativity. That's been expansive for me. I've created a bunch of new aspects who are caring, generous, fun and interesting. So something seems to be working.
As Robert Scheinfeld always like to remind us, there's nothing "wrong" with caring about certain issues. There's nothing wrong with trying to be a healer, for example, and healing illusory bodies of illusory illnesses. It's just that you realize it's part of a fun creation in the hologram and has no meaning outside of that. If you're doing anything out of a sense of obligation, guilt, money, morals, gratification, well, I'm not going to tell you to stop. But I would suggest you do the Busting Loose process.
I don't judge anyone who is caught up in these issues. That's part of their unique mission and purpose, and I hope they're having fun doing it. But I remain unswayed. Please don't get mad at me. I imagine over time, as I process this stuff, fewer and fewer people will be approaching me with "Save the Chinchillas" petitions as I walk through Nob Hill. I can only hope.
*****
I'd be interested to hear what you're losing interest in. Please post in the comments section.
I'm sitting here on a beautiful Sunday morning thinking about war and violence. Goes well with the oatmeal. Actually, I saw the movie "The Hurt Locker" last night and it took a good night's sleep to come down from the adrenaline rush.
As a movie, it's quite a creation -- a hellaciously intense and harrowing immersion into the war in Iraq, punctuated with moments of levity and pure heartbreak. But as you've probably figured out by now, I'm not here for a movie review.
The movie focuses on three men who comprise a bomb defusion squad in Baghdad. After the group's lead bomb expert is killed when an IED he is trying to disarm is detonated, into the void steps Staff Sgt. William James.
In military terms, and Busting Loose terms, James knows his unique mission and purpose. He is here to defuse bombs. We find out after one particularly nerve-wracking sequence that he has, in fact, defused 873 bombs during his time in Iraq.
There is not a lot of psychological exploration about why someone would find enjoyment in such an obviously dangerous job. The filmmaker portrays him as sort of a maverick, a "wild man" as one superior puts it, who loves the thrill. In fact, he is so absorbed he puts his fellow soldiers, like Sgt. J.T. Sanborne, at risk along with himself, a point that Sanborne makes with a quick punch to James' face.
But "The Hurt Locker" is not about a devil-may-care macho soldier. Been there, blown that one up. There is no doubt James accepts the fact that a single mistake is fatal. He chooses to embrace that, not avoid it, to ride the edge. And as Roger Ebert noted, "(1) bombs need to be defused; (2) nobody does it better than James; (3) he knows exactly how good he is, and (4) when he’s at work, an intensity of focus and exhilaration consumes him, and he’s in that heedless zone when an artist loses track of self and time."
In Busting Loose terms, that last part sounds a lot like joy. Go figure.
Still, it's a movie and would anyone of us ever really choose that vocation? Which brings me to my point. The movie brought me back to one of the delicious paradoxes that Robert touches on, about each of us living in our own holograms, yet seemingly interacting with others in their holograms.
Without going into an explanation of that conundrum, because I have none, it becomes more obvious to me every day that we can never fully understand why someone else in our hologram does whatever they are going to do. There are lots of things "we" wouldn't do, but others choose to do.
It doesn't take a character as off-the-wall as James to understand that point. We come across it every day. Why did my husband leave me? Why does my teenager behave this way? Why is my boss such an a-hole? At some point, after we've wrung the drama out of the situation and done the process, we can only suspend judgment, derive our lessons from it and realize as my friend Jane like to say, "all paths are sacred."
Jane knows. She has had a life that should be made into a book or movie some day. But it was her experience with her middle daughter that brought the point home to her. Her daughter had what most of us would call a tough time as a teenager. She was raped. By age 14, she was living on the street, drug and alcohol-addicted. She became a single mother at age 17.
Jane simply had to let go after it became apparent no amount of mothering, intervention, scolding or attention was going to derail her daughter from her path. Jane said she accepted the reality that her daughter might die at a young age.
I'm happy to say that in this "movie," Jane's daughter emerged from this phase of her journey. She's earned a college degree, teaches middle school, raises her two children with a partner, and has been sober for 19 months.
At the end of "The Hurt Locker," Sanborne finally accepts James for who he is. James ends his deployment, goes home to his wife and baby and does his best to be a good father and husband. But the lure of his mission and purpose is too much. He returns to Iraq for another tour of defusing bombs. He is at peace.
We can't judge Sgt. William James and we can't judge Jane's daughter. We can only marvel at the amazing stories they created, the unique missions and purposes they were on. And love them.
|
RSS Feed
