{everything is everything}

"I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together."

Once upon a time, I read the Tao Te Ching and thought it was nonsense. I was young. I thought Lao Tzu was just talking in circles trying to sound complex and that there was not any real depth to the words. When I heard the lines quoted above from The Beatles and when Marvin Gaye said "everything is everything", I thought they were just using too many drugs and experiencing intoxication wisdom. 

Youth is funny that way. You think you know everything, you really think you've got quite a few things figured out. It's a pretty great feeling, the sense of having your ducks in a row, and more on the horizon ready to line up for you. 

Then you grow. 

Your mind gets filled with landscapes and experiences and loves and losses. You meet people with lives different than any you could have imagined. You visit places where unfamiliar customs make you question why things are done the way they are done in your culture. You evolve from certainty to the helplessness of knowing very little for certain. If you are lucky, you can find peace in that uncomfortable state of openness. You can see that it is a gift. 

You may pine for the sense of stability that the absolute beliefs of youth gave you while taking refuge in the flexibility of wisdom. The beautiful peace of bewilderment. 

You may feel oneness with people, plants, oceans, and animals. You may sense that there is an unseen order. The Golden Ratio in growth patterns of flowers and leaves on branches. Perfect spirals of the chambered nautilus reminding us of our own potential for growth,  as it leaves behind and seals off the space that it has outgrown. As above, so below – this shape is repeated in galaxies. 

Too many clues to ignore. Not enough evidence to know. This is our conundrum and the origin of our striving. We focus that drive to know outward, at best, developing cures for disease and saving forests – at worst being consumed by greed and consumerism, but truly that is because the thing we seek feels impossible to achieve. It's akin to a book written in an unknown language. It means nothing to us if we can't decipher it. 

With practice, we can learn to read it. Still, buying new records seems so much more pleasing than studying all evening. We have grown lazy and it is fracturing us at the soul level, making us sick,  and ruining our societies.  

{dying days of duality}

A little while ago, was asked if I believed a person could be a racist and a good person. I don't. The hardest part about this election has been that it has made us all see things we wish we had not had to see about others – people we thought we knew.

While that question was a clear and simple one, the question that I have struggled with for these last months is: can a good person support an avid racist, sexist, sexual predator, xenophobe, liar, crook, narcissist, and general hater who wants to take away the rights of a majority of the population while serving the privileged few, ignoring the fact of the deep moral shortcoming inherent in all of those positions. That is a tremendous moral compromise requiring some bizarre ethical acrobatics. I suspect the answer is no, I know it is for me, but it is a much more challenging question, to be certain.

I have only unfriended one person over this (she specifically asked that all liberals unfriend her) because I don't want to shut off dialog. Unfortunately, I have yet to have an intelligent, insightful conversation with a supporter of this new "President". I have heard a lot of people saying things that simply were not true or spouting fear-based beliefs, but I have not heard a heartfelt argument of substance. And the one thing I have absolutely not heard is a compelling or legitimate justification for all the foul things the man has said and done. I have heard people say that they had personally been as vulgar as the president-elect, or that the other candidate was also vile, but the last time I checked, "I did it because he did" was simply not a valid justification. It's the reasoning of a toddler. Furthermore, this individual is meant to be held to a higher standard of accountability for honesty, integrity, and intelligence. I mean, you don't want your child molesting asshole uncle who can't spell, cheats at cards, and steals grandma's pain pills in the White House.... do you? Do you?

This has been a very trying time. I have felt wholly disheartened, confused, and often shocked and disgusted by the things I have seen my fellow citizens do and say. In the end, I am glad I know that this ugliness is still so big. It is much easier to fight against an enemy you can see. Given the choice between the simple bliss of ignorance and the weight of knowledge, I'd choose knowledge every time. I hope this new knowledge empowers us. I know we've all felt as if the wind was knocked out of us for a minute, but now, we each have to move forward, scales fallen from our eyes, and do the good work we are here to do.

{watching it crumble}

Since the election, I have experienced a deep despair, unlike anything I have ever experienced before in my life. 

Hopelessness, like a dark dense shadow, fell over me and I've been unable to turn it around in any meaningful way. I have been more kind to others, that is true. I have tried my best to practice what I believe and be a better human being. But, my heart feels broken, and this is nothing like a romantic heartbreak. I'm a different kind of hungry ghost these days. I have the sense that the world is not a good or safe place anymore and that I am not living in a country where people share the same virtuous values. 

Now clearly, for this sentiment to erupt wich such ferocity, it has been a worm in the bud of our peace for some time.  Still, the constant reminder, through this devastating string of some 700-800 hate crimes (so far) – that so many of my fellow citizens, in light of all we know about fascism and the dangers of blind nationalism & xenophobia guided by a deceitful dictator,  willfully ignore historical precedent. This undermines the fabric of our society. 

The bottom line is that though I know that all supporters of the President are not avowed racists, they are accepting of and complicit with a proud racist. They have all accepted racist rhetoric as a key component of the "values-based" campaign that "won" victory for an arrogant, mean-spirited, emotionally immature man. This demagogue has exploited the basest fears of the most historically entitled group in our population and capitalized on the seeming inability of a huge percent of the population to demonstrate the discipline to read an article start to finish or entertain different opinions. Particularly, the failure of fact and logic, have been the hallmarks of this moral catastrophe. I have recently learned that we make decisions based, not on fact, but rather, on feeling. Which is fine when we are choosing a television show to watch, but not when deciding the future of our country and by extension, the world.

I call it a moral catastrophe because nearly half of the people who voted, voted for an individual espousing beliefs and plans designed to disenfranchise and cause danger and upheaval to a large segment of the population – the most vulnerable segment. A political leader who seeks support by appealing to popular fears and prejudices rather than by using rational argument. A narcissist and a psychological toddler. 

All that said, the only things that have given me comfort and eased my soul since the demise of my beloved country has shifted into high gear, as been putting my feet on the pavement and marching with my fellow citizens. My heart has been so damaged that I thought it might not be capable of feeling right or good or full again. 

But holding signs and marching and standing in solidarity with fellow citizens has reminded me, again and again, that though the mean-spirited old white men are enjoying their swan song now.

We have the numbers and we know that:  Mni Wiconi (Water is Life), Black Lives Matter, Civil Rights are Family Values, Immigrants Make America Great, Men Should NOT Legislate Women's Bodies. 

{sincerely, L. Cohen}

In mid-October,  I had the same dream twice in one night. 

In the dream, I hit another car, head-on, and then, instead of stopping and being injured, I kept moving forward, like I was being pulled through a completely dark tunnel. In the dream, I was wondering how I was still moving forward and how I was not feeling any pain,  if I was still moving. I kept trying to feel my body, but I could not feel it, a strange and upsetting experience. I had that sensation, where you know something is serious, but you almost want to giggle – like when a person says something so offensive that you can't even believe it has been said and the shock makes your reaction an unexpected one. You don't know why, but you are stifling a strange, uncomfortable desire to laugh at something not laughable – a sort of jumble of too many emotions. 

I could not hear or see anything. And there was another sensation. It was something close, so physical and personal it was almost sexual, but also upsetting. Did you ever read The Golden Compass? When the children's daemon's get cut away and it is tantamount to loss of the soul – violent cutting away of the soul, molestation of the natural order of things? I felt that. Something spiritually and psychologically violent and gruesome and inexplicable. But without any accompanying physical pain. 

The second time I had the dream, I woke myself and got up to clean the kitchen. I've always heard that if you dream of dying three times, you die in real life. I didn't want to chance dreaming it again. 

All day,  I could not shake the dream. As I became more and more awake, I realized that what I experienced in the dream paralleled what the Tibetan Book of the Dead describes happening when you die. I once saw the most beautiful, illuminating documentary on the post-death process according to Tibetan Buddhism. Several pieces have become a permanent part of how I think about the world. First, the knowledge that hearing is the last sense to go. Also, that when we die, we must make a choice about which new body our soul will inhabit and that if we enter death fearfully, the chance that we will make a good choice is reduced.  I realized that I had felt death and that I had not experienced it fearfully. I was confused, and my conscious mind was having trouble processing, but there was no terror. Apart from my consciousness, the rest of "me" seemed to know just what to do. 

After the dream, I thought about death constantly. I could not quite figure out what I was supposed to learn from it, but I felt a sense of well-being and certainty that death isn't frightening,  just different. I also completely stopped texting while driving. I became much more careful and aware, much more present in my life. 

Two weeks later, on the highway, there was a rapid and unexpected stop and I was unable to brake fast enough. I hit another car head-on, exactly as I had in both dreams. 

I didn't die. No one died, or even got hurt. 

So far in my life, there have been a number of situations in which I think I was supposed to die or had the option of exiting and did not. It's a strange feeling, to escape death over-and-over. My go-to explanation is that in pre-birth planning, one writes a number of exits into their story. Somehow, I am able to see my exits and decide a little more consciously whether or not to use them or whether to stay and try to do more here. 

A couple weeks after the incident, Leonard Cohen died. Now, for the last year or so, it has become apparent to me that many of the famous folks that helped form my young mind are going to be leaving this planet – I've been preparing myself for it. His passing was one I knew would be tremendous. Though I never knew him, somehow, he always hit a place somewhere near my core, or maybe soul. He always had words of solace and inspiration when they were most needed. He was a kindred spirit and he was my companion through many otherwise lonesome hours. A modern, bohemian bodhisattva, providing the artistically inclined a small reprieve from the quotidian suffering. A light in the murky world.

Over this last year, we have experienced something that I think of as a dimming of the lights. One by one, bright lights dying out all over the globe. It is a strange thing the painful loss of someone you never met, yet whose mere existence in the world gave great comfort. 

I have this sense that many of us embedded exits for ourselves in the last year – knowing that what was coming was to be difficult. Some of us, either foolish or feeling strong enough to continue shedding some light in the dark times to come, have let the opportunities to exit pass. Only time will tell if we've been foolish to stay.

A final synchronicity – I began thinking incessantly about the film I loved so much about the Tibetan Book of the Dead, so I looked it up the weekend we got the final Leonard Cohen album and I had been listening to the songs alone in the darkness. I found the video and began watching. I had completely forgotten until I heard that singular,  golden voice, that Mr. Cohen had narrated the film. 

{germain topics}

Monday night the Metropolis bike group ended up at Belle Isle, as usual. I had to go to the bathroom, so I broke off from the group and rode through the center of the island, back to the Tim Horton's where everyone regroups after riding around the island. There were a few riders there already. None that I knew well. I asked if anyone would watch my bike because I really had to use the bathroom and a guy I had not met before offered. I ran to the door, only to find it locked. My new friend, Mark suggested the gas station nearby, but I looked in the other direction, finding the Big Boy a finer option. I was going to leave the bike and run over, but he said he'd ride over with me. 

I walked through the glass doors of the restaurant, ant it was like entering the 70s. It really felt as if those doors were a portal to another time. The light was dim, there was some unrecognizable smooth jazz sounding muzak, I had the impression that the walls were wood paneled, though I can't say whether they really were. An older woman saw me scanning the place and pointed to a dim hall, "right there, ma'am." I thanked her and made my way to the restroom, where I found an abnormal amount of glitter and sparkle on the floor. 

On my way out, I noted that she had her hands on a very well loved bible and was drinking coffee. A man had joined her and it appeared that she was reading to him. I said good night and re-entered my own time. As Mark and I were leaving, we were approached by a man who had a big shopping cart full of a bike. He began talking fast to us. telling us an extremely dramatic tale of being nearly sandwiched between two cars on the Slow Roll ride earlier that evening. He started to ask us for money, and Mark said we had no change, I almost agreed, but something told me to give the guy something. I reached into my pocket and gave him what I grabbed. He thanked me and then began telling us a more animated story about a lawsuit and a house - his mother's house and how she died because she was supposed to have a surgery to have a growth removed from her fallopian tube but the doctor accidentally cut out her liver instead, killing her. He was going to meet with a lawyer the following day. He was going to get the deed to  his mother's house back and we could come stay there and there would be food so that we could eat until we were full, eat for days. He was going to sue the doctor who birthed him, too - he pointed out a number of scars on his face and underside if his chin and told us the doctor made big mistakes. This seemed unlikely, it all seemed highly unlikely, because he looked like he was in his 40s and if the doctor who did all the damage, and whose name he could not quite recall,  was still alive, he was definitely old. We asked his name,  "Jermaine," he told us.

He gave me this feeling I first experienced in childhood. My dad had a good friend named Doug. Doug lived in California and was very cool, earrings and a motorcycle and a youthful enthusiasm. One time when he was home visiting, he started telling me about some plan he had, to become a famous singer. He played me a recording of himself singing along with Spandau Ballet. I was young. Maybe 12 and distinctly recall feeling sad for him. Feeling disbelief that he'd ever achieve his unrealistic dream. He had other plans too, I can't recall them anymore, but even as a kid, I knew he was not going to get rich from any of them. Even though he wholeheartedly believed them. I later came to think of people with these kinds of improbable dreams and schemes as grifter types. These grifters might have varying levels of sinister-ness, but they all made me equally sad. 

Jermaine hugged Mark and we told him we had to go. He wanted to pray for us first. 

He said a long convoluted prayer that was mostly the Lord's Prayer but contained a long tangent about how Satan was trying to own the world for 100 years and we must fight against his darkness. He began to tell us all the people he'd lost in recent months. Aunts and cousins. Many losses. After saying the prayer he told us to be safe. He hugged Mark again and we rode away to rejoining the group. 

As we ride away, Mark noted that is was odd. I told him it was not especially odd for me. "Oh, you are one of those people," he said. 

Yes. I am one of those people. 

{the should/could balance}

Make a list of 10 things you should do right now. 

Read the list and decide whether any of these items feels expansive and inspiring. 

Now write a list of the things you could do right now. If you had more money, more time, more energy, whatever. 

Read the list and decide if any of these items feel expansive and inspiring.

I am not going to tell you what you think I am. I am not going to say to throw away the shoulds and focus on the coulds. That would be awesome, but, it is not realistic and most of all, it would probably make you feel bad about yourself and your life. It would make you feel like you should forget about the shoulds and focus on the coulds. It would turn potential into drudgery. That is not our goal.  That kind of thinking turns possibility into pressure. We want to allow each their space. 

Instead, I propose a 50/50 split. 

For every should, you get a could. Kind of like a reward, but more like checks and balances. We have taste buds for savory and sweet foods. Our bodies are designed for participation in both the waking world and the rejuvenation of sleep.

In time and with practice, you can probably work this system so that you have 60% could-time and 40% should-time. You never know.

Start with balance.

This is a lesson in self-care.

{interior landscapes}

Curiosity is everything. 

Literally.

Whether or not you are a believer in the law of attraction, you can't deny that thoughts do, in fact, become things. Before the shoes on your feet were shoes, they were a thought in a designer's mind. The designer put the thought onto paper or into digital form. This was scrutinized by a creative director, approved by a brand, and then manufactured in a factory in a country you've probably never visited. This whole complex, physical manufacturing process began with imagination which is fueled by curiosity. The factory began as a thought or plan, as did the supply chain, and the companies that designed and distributed the shoes. Everything in our modern world has a common origin. 

Everything begins as thought. 

Before there were trains, cars, phones,  or computers, there were thoughts that went something like this, "What if a machine could...."  Curiosity leads to progress, growth, innovation, and change. Curiosity propels us to shift our lives, over and over again. 

As a society, if not individually, we routinely apply curiosity to the exterior world, but what about our inner, emotional and spiritual landscape? How is it that for most people, curiosity is only ever projected outward? Why aren't the inner depths a source of equal wonder? 

Much of our society has not yet learned to value this kind of curiosity. It's a shame because the more we explore our deepest and most personal thoughts and gain emotional intelligence, the more expansive our curiosity can grow.  

I knew a man many years ago who was extremely intelligent, likely a genius on a number of fronts. But, as with so many brilliant people, he was an underachiever.  Instead of making huge contributions to society, he taught everyone he encountered, usually something unexpected. 

One night we played a game. We only played this game once, because it is the kind of game that can only be played once. And though I have not seen or spoken to him in years, I still vividly remember the game and the way my answers illuminated things about myself which I was not concretely or consciously aware of. This game was called The Cube and was not really a game, but rather, a Japanese personality test. It is one of the most amazing and revealing tools for diving into the subconscious.

You can find the instructions online.

It takes about 10 minutes and I bet you will be intrigued by what you learn.

I suspect that the primary reason that curiosity about the self is such a rarity, is that people feel that they already know what they will find if they explore themselves.  Still. I suggest that being as curious about your own psychology as you are about Mars or WWII history or quantum physics may lead you down some interesting rabbit holes and it will make you a more insightful person in the process.  You never know what's lurking below the surface, trust me when I say that it's more than you anticipate and what you find will surprise you.