Bittman Bliss Blog

I’m pretty sure I can’t write it any better than I said it this past Sunday, so here’s a link to my talk from December 16th “Love Wins“.  Enjoy!

I apologize in advance for the unusual length of this post. I guess playing hooky from this blog has allowed a bunch of thoughts to ferment for a while…

Years ago I heard or read somewhere that the average American family eats Thanksgiving leftovers for 6 days. I haven’t been able to confirm that, but it’s a staggering thought, especially when you figure that quite a few people only have them for 2 or 3 days, meaning some families are annually pushing the limits of safe refrigerator hygiene. More to the point, regardless of how many turkey sandwiches I might endure, my intention this year has been for the thanksgiving in my heart to last at least as long as the leftovers.

Without a doubt, of all the spiritual and life-enhancing practices I’ve engaged in, cultivating a practice of thanksgiving has been the most valuable in terms of my day-to-day happiness level. Indeed, to this point anyway, according to the scientists who actually study happiness (I wonder if they’re happy studying it?) the only practice that has been objectively measured to increase prolonged happiness is doing a daily gratitude list. Wow, and such a simple thing, too. Gratitude opens my heart, brings me right smack dab into the present moment, has me focusing on what I want (rather than what I don’t want), and instantly raises my consciousness; all the things most of us are looking for in a daily spiritual practice. Your grandmother and mine knew what they were talking about when they told us to count our blessings!

But wait; there’s more! Eric Butterworth, a famous Unity Minister and author, wrote, “Thanksgiving is not just a reactionary emotion; it is a causative energy.” Gratitude isn’t just something I feel only when I get what I want; it’s a state of consciousness that allows me to create my experience of life based on my core values and intentions. It’s an attitude of mind I can develop that allows me to see the good in myself and in life. It’s a causative energy that has contributed greatly to the realization of many of my dreams.

When I first started developing a thanksgiving practice, I began with the “small” stuff—those everyday blessings and gifts that I was taking for granted. Immediately I discovered, to paraphrase A Course in Miracles, that there’s no order of magnitude among blessings when I notice and acknowledge them. It was hard at first to list what I was grateful for, but forcing myself to do it seemed to grease the whole mechanism to the point where I could soon take a 15-minute walk in the morning and rattle off things I was grateful for the whole time.

The next step was developing gratitude in the face of things it was harder to be grateful for. In the Bible, Paul writes, “Give thanks in all things.” No small feat. Thankfully, he doesn’t say, “Give thanks FOR all things.” For me Paul is suggesting something possible and extremely powerful, namely, when the schmootz hits the fan, I don’t necessarily have to be grateful FOR it, but IN the situation, I can still keep at least one toe firmly ensconced in gratitude. Again, this will allow me to stay grounded, present, hopeful and connected to my inner resources—those things that will help me through the schmootz and possibly even see a blessing in it.

This, finally—thanks for hanging in there—brings me back to leftovers. I’m working on being thankful for my leftovers, which in this case I’ll define as those issues I’ve worked on/with, ad nauseum, for eons. You know; the negative labels I’ve stitched deeply into the collar of my self-image? The ones that still, after all these years, show up and spoil the fun like red ants at a picnic? Do you have any of those? Can I really be thankful for those leftovers when they emerge from the fridge and show up in my awareness?

In many ways I believe that until I do develop gratitude for those leftovers, they continue to return like relatives I don’t like. Once again to quote the Bible, after Jacob wrestles all night with an angel who finally asks Jacob to let him go, Jacob responds, “I will not let you go until you bless me.” What a beautiful metaphor for those issues I’ve wrestled with for years. In the past I tried denying them, hating them, resisting them, feeling victimized by them, cajoling them, inquiring into them and generally focusing on them so hard and so long in an attempt to get rid of them that I was able to expound on them backwards and forwards in several different languages. When I started to simply be OK with them, to notice them and accept them, they started to let go of me a bit. They lost some power over me because I stopped giving them so much power. When I actually started blessing them, they let go of me even more.

There’ve been other gifts in giving thanks for my leftovers. I’ve noticed that I’ve been able to reframe some of my negative labels into things that serve me. For instance, instead of calling myself lazy, I now enjoy and understand the value of rest and recharging. Instead of thinking of myself as a “good little boy” or “people pleaser”, I’ve become a compassionate being who touches people with my kindness and love. And instead of stressing over my tendency to obsess over things that never happened and never will happen, I now have one-pointed focus and attention on my intention. Is that cool or what?

I’m turning my issues into allies. Just like Gandhi did with his alleged greediness, I can use my leftovers as compost for growing what I really want for myself and for the world. I’ll need them as allies in my journey. When Jesus was tempted by Satan he repeated several times, “Get thee behind me, Satan.” Perhaps Jesus was tempted by the leftovers in his own consciousness and not necessarily banishing them, but telling them to get behind him, to support him, to get on his team. He undoubtedly knew he’d need every aspect of his wholeness to do what he needed to do in this world, and I can do the same. I’m thankful for my leftovers, and I’m thankful the Thanksgiving leftovers are gone!

And if that’s all I remember, that’s more than enough for now.

Strong coffee is my weakness, as my father used to say. Once in a while I get tired of my automatic coffeemaker’s version (never quite strong enough) and pull out the heavy artillery: the French press. Then after a few months I get tired of the cleaning and the grinding and the plunging and the fact that I have to leave the last sip in the cup because it’s always full of grounds and slink back to good ol’ Mr. Coffee.

The interesting thing about all this is that the first time I went through this cycle and went back to the automatic coffemaker, it took months before I realized I was still leaving the last sip sitting in the cup, even though it was blissfully free of grounds! Besides being a tragic waste of coffee, it made it very clear how good my mind is at automatic pilot. If I could go months missing out on strong coffee without choosing to, what else was I missing?

Indeed, “business as usual” seems to be my conscious mind’s mantra, as if any moment was usual. It seems to enjoy believing that nothing ever changes or even should change. So what if every moment is a brand new ballgame? Who cares if every moment is potentially life and/or world changing? To my mind, they’re all alike. You’ve seen one moment, you’ve seen them all. Same schmootz; different moment. You get the idea (hopefully).

Business as usual is so diametrically opposed to the truth I hold in my heart that it’s almost funny. My heart (as well as my spleen, my big toe, my uvula…every cell, tissue and organ in my being except for my brain) knows that in every moment, the real truth is “is-ness as usual.” No matter where I am or what is going on, regardless of the appearance of things or my perception of them, God IS, which for me means that love is, compassion is, harmony is, peace is, wholeness is, oneness is, joy is, abundance is. These things simply are. They have a life and a reality in and of themselves. Schmootz, on the other hand, requires my consent, my cooperation, my perceptions.

This is-ness is always present and active, and it’s all good. Because of this is-ness, every moment contains unlimited possibilities for good. Every moment is extraordinary and unique and each one represents an opportunity to tap into the is-ness and mold it and shape it in order to create our lives according to our highest values and desires. How exciting! Perhaps that’s why we are naturally enthusiastic, passionate, curious and creative beings who crave awe and wonder and beauty in our lives. Those things, sadly, tend to get lost in business as usual.

“Is-ness as usual” is a beautiful reminder to stay centered in the present moment so I can be aware of the unlimited possibilities therein and to be aware that life-changing moments usually arrive unannounced. It’s a beautiful reminder that life isn’t a problem to be solved but an is-ness to be experienced and expressed. It’s a beautiful reminder that this is-ness can become my default location as it becomes more “usual” in my consciousness.

We often hear the phrase “it is what it is” and perhaps even use it to describe resignation (“oh well”). Now when I hear it I’ll say, “Yahoo!” Indeed, it is what it is, and in each moment, what it is is love! Allness! Spirit! AND I AM THAT!

Business as usual also refers to “the normal conduct of business especially in difficult events which pose a potential negative impact” (=schmootz!). When the schmootz hits the fan heavily, business as usual is about the best I can do, and that’s OK. At the same time, I can remember the is-ness that is still present, that healing is always possible because of that is-ness, that everyone involved in the situation, including me, has all the strength, love and wisdom of that is-ness within them. In doing so, I can remain open to creative ideas and opportunities as they arise, I can remain an inlet and outlet of all there is in God, and I become a source of peace and love within the schmootz.

Is-ness is usual because it is what I am. And the more I embrace it, affirm it, feed it, acknowledge and appreciate it, the more beautiful and rich my life becomes.

And if that’s all I remember, that’s more than enough for now.

Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, began last night at sundown. I haven’t figured out why the year starts in the 7th month of the Jewish calendar, but hey, January 1st is rather arbitrary as well. Anyway, the significance of the holiday is that it begins the “10 days of awe” which end on the Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur. On Rosh Hashanah, God gets out the book and writes all our names in it with the kind of year we’re going to have, including whether we’re going to be around for next year’s holiday. On Yom Kippur, the book is “closed”. Pretty creepy, huh? The good news is that we have these 10 days to change God’s decree, and we can do so through repentance, prayer and good deeds.

I don’t believe in the kind of God that judges us (if God is love, where does judgment come into the picture?), let alone one that records it all in a book, but the holiday still has tremendous meaning for me. The idea of “cleaning our slate” shows up in every religion, but I am reminded that the only one who ever writes anything on my slate is me. We are the ones who tend to have elephant-like memories when it comes to our own shortcomings, our own mistakes, our own limitations; our own “sins.” A sin is an error, specifically a thought, word or action that we express from less than our highest consciousness. The chances are great that we’ve already paid the consequences for that error, so why is it still on the slate?

For me, God is all the love, intelligence, substance, principle and presence in the Universe. And all of that is alive and active as each and every one of us. Each of us has a divine essence that not only represents our fundamental reality, but also is always tapping at the door of our awareness, ready, willing, anxious and infinitely able to express all that is good and beautiful and true out into the world. All we have to do is give our consent. Whenever we do, our God Self radiates as brilliantly as the day we were born. Our slate is already and eternally clean unless we choose to hold things on ourselves. And because we do, rituals and holidays such as Rosh Hashanah hold incredible value.

For me, it’s not God’s decree that needs to be changed, it’s our own. And the very things that Jewish people believe will do the job, namely repentance, prayer and good deeds, are the perfect activities we can engage in to raise our consciousness and change our own decree about ourselves.

Repentance, even though the word carries the connotation of contrition, simply means, “Think again.” So things like forgiveness (especially of self), repeating affirmations and denials, visualization and simply making a different choice about something all fall into that category. Prayer is another activity that isn’t so much about changing God’s mind but about changing ours. And one can say the same about “good deeds” (service). When we do any of these things, we tend to feel really good, and I believe that’s because we’re touching our “original goodness”, our divine essence. We’re reminding ourselves that our slate is clean.

What’s the big deal about being more aware that our slate is clean in each and every moment? When I do remember that, it allows me to make choices that are based on what I really desire and what is really important to me, instead of ones based on what I think is possible. What I think is possible, especially when I run it through my memory that is chock full of my own errors and shortcomings, is quite limited. The only way I can really find out what’s possible is by heading in the direction of my deepest desires. And most of the time I find out that all things are possible, especially when I align in consciousness with my God Self.

My high school physics teacher said that the only thing in the universe that was impossible was putting toothpaste back into the tube the same way it came out. If that’s even remotely true, that leaves a whole bunch of things that are possible!

So I choose to honor Rosh Hashanah tradition this year and do a whole lot of repenting, praying and good deeds, because I’ve undoubtedly written a bunch of things on my slate this year, and those activities will remind me that if I wrote ‘em, I can erase them. With a clean slate, it’s full speed ahead in the direction of my dreams. L’shanah tovah (“for a good year”)!

And if that’s all I remember, that’s more than enough for now.

My favorite quote from the Buddha goes something like this: “We don’t get upset because of what’s happening; we get upset because we’re upset-able.” In other words, just like happiness, upset is an inside job. And I don’t know about you, but I much prefer harmony; in my day, in my experiences and, perhaps especially, in my relationships. So before I start looking for harmony outside of myself, I need to establish it inside myself. When I do, I become much less upset-able.

It has become clear to me that harmony within does not tend to happen spontaneously; I need to establish it. My mind tends to be hectic and chaotic, prone as it is to outside influences. This makes it difficult for me to attune to the harmony that is always present in life, in Nature, in my God Self. For me, God IS the harmony and balance that is always present even in what seems like chaos; the principles that govern my existence whether things seem harmonious or not…and the only place I can be separate from all is in my awareness. My mind is very good at that bit of separation.

When things are disharmonious, it isn’t as though God just left the scene, but I undoubtedly did. So, it behooves me to constantly remind myself of my oneness with God. I can feed that part of myself by giving it more of my attention and focus, through prayer, meditation, affirmations, journaling, visualization, or whatever. I can spend more time in Nature or listening to music or doing something to attune with a less hectic vibration. I can start my day and indeed every interaction by grounding in what is most important to me, my deepest values and my deepest desires. And I can tap into the joy, love, gratitude, compassion and peace that always abide in my heart before I speak or act. Or think. These things are possible, but it’s me that has to do them.

When I do, I experience harmony. When I do, fewer things seem urgent and I can spend time on things that are important and valuable to me. When I do, I spend more time creating and less reacting (by the way, those two words have the same letters, just in different sequence). Then I notice that what I create in life is much more in line with my core values and intentions. I also notice I am much more able to take whatever comes in my life and use it to unfold more of my divinity.

This summer, I haven’t been doing my usual spiritual routine that I described above. I’ve been out in Nature a lot, but almost none of the rest. And apparently it’s like not drinking enough water: by the time you realize it, your tank is already very low. I’d become quite upset-able lately without really realizing it, and it came to a head the other day. Through that experience I came to realize that it’s not enough to know I am divine Love. I have to affirm it, acknowledge it, appreciate it, fill myself with it and remind myself of it, consciously and often. It’s pretty simple. The more I do, the harder it is for me to forget and the easier it is for me to show it.

The word “harmony” means “to fit together”, and that’s how it feels to me. When I find harmony within myself, everything seems to fit together. I know everyone and everything already does, but only when I establish harmony within myself do I experience that feeling. And when it feels as if everything fits together, I am much less upset-able!

And if that’s all I remember, that’s more than enough for now.

It probably borders on blasphemy, but I have recently found myself asking this question often: “What would Brenna do?” Brenna is “my” nearly 2-year old Labrador Retriever, and she is wise beyond measure. She is nearly always happy and energetic and seems to squeeze every drop out of life. She’s loyal, accepting, forgiving and unconditionally loving. I realize I speak and write about her a lot, and I imagine it’s because basically she shows up in life exactly how I would ideally choose to. So, I consciously work to emulate her. It might help to have most of my brain removed so it matches the size of hers, but I figure I can do it even with my huge cerebral cortex. I generally prefer being a human being anyway, if only because I get to eat stuff besides dry, disgusting kibble.

I observe her and, besides making her nervous, I notice some major differences between us in how we respond to life. For one thing, she never seems to confuse what she has with who she is. I do it all the time. I often get so attached to what I have (or don’t have) that I make it part of my very identity. I’m talking about my experiences, my relationships, my job, my bank account, my body, my thoughts, my feelings, my story…all these are things I have but they are not who I am. The simple fact that I refer to them as, “My…” seems to underline this confusion. When I get them confused, when I identify (which literally means, “To regard as the same”) my very being with these things, when I become emotionally invested in them, I give them power over me. As they go, I go, as if we were chained together. Brenna seems to be free of chains.

She has obvious preferences, but doesn’t get attached to things. Sometimes she’ll carry a stick for 4 miles and it only takes one firm, “Leave it!” from me and she drops it. It might require 1 additional command for her to give it up completely, but I’m consistently amazed. If it was me, I would say, “Are you serious, I just carried this damned thing for 2 hours. I’ve swallowed a half a pound of bark and you want me to leave it?” Brenna simply makes a different choice that is still aligned with who she is, what’s important to her, her core values. She’ll pick up another stick or a ball, or she’ll just enjoy running around and sniffing all the smells of nature, which to her are obviously plentiful and pleasant.

Her preferences don’t become attachments whereas mine often are indistinguishable. The problem for me is that I get so stuck on the form I lose myself. I lose my intention to experience love and joy, which are undoubtedly what I really wanted to begin with. So sometimes now when I realize I’m attached to something that I can’t or don’t have, I ask myself what I really want and often I realize I CAN have that. For instance, with my recent hip injury, I worried that I might not be able to hike again this summer or perhaps any summer. I realized how attached to hiking I am. So I asked myself what hiking allowed me to experience. The answers included peace, beauty, solitude, connection with nature, a sense of awe and wonder and oneness, and exercise. It became clear to me that if, God forbid, I really couldn’t hike anymore, I could take up swimming and every now and then someone could wheel me out into the woods! Hiking is not who I am. I can always make a different choice that feeds who I am and unfolds my deepest desires.

It works so well for Brenna that my new mantra is, “Leave it!” Whenever I become aware that I’m attached to something I have or don’t have, that I have my teeth sunk into something in the realm of form, I give myself that firm command. It reminds me to break the imaginary chain I have created between it and me. It allows me to remember who I am and what is most important to me. I may have to give myself a few hundred additional commands before I let go completely but hey, I do have this huge cerebral cortex.

I don’t compare myself to Brenna, I just emulate her. I ask myself what she would do in any particular situation, and the answer always feels right, loving and free.

And if that’s all I remember, that’s more than enough for now.

I ran across this Cherokee expression: “When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. Live your life so that when you die, the world cries and you rejoice.” I know that this kind of life is possible and it unfolds one choice at a time, as does any kind of life. When my choices are aligned with my highest vision, my deepest values and my heart’s desires, I can not only rejoice when I die (assuming one can rejoice at that point) but all along the way as well. And those choices begin with what I choose to focus on moment by moment.

Eckhart Tolle wrote, “What the future holds depends on our state of consciousness now.” Knowing that my life plays out according to the thoughts, feelings, attitudes, and beliefs I choose to place and hold in the center ring of my awareness, why is it that I still make stinky choices as the ringmaster? Why wouldn’t I always choose to give the center ring to what I want to be, do and have and how I want to show up in life? Why wouldn’t I always choose to focus on love, joy, peace, compassion, abundance, service, oneness and wholeness?

Well, at this point in my life the only answer to those questions that truly serves me is, “Who cares?” Historically, my responses to those “why” questions have always been a list of less-than-empowering activities such as excuses, justifications, blame, negative self-judgment, shouldas, couldas and wouldas. None of those ever get me any closer to the choice I really want to make in that moment, in every moment, which is to proclaim loudly and proudly, “Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, for your enjoyment, now in the center ring…LOVE!” In fact, I’m now convinced that it’s the mental gymnastics I choose instead that represent the primary thing that stops me from making truth and love my focus in any moment.

I’m tired of the gymnastics. So I’m renewing my intention to pay attention to what I’ve chosen to place in the center ring and to take responsibility for placing it there. Yes, often it seems as if my mind were a 50-ring circus. Yes, I have old tapes and mental mechanisms that make it easier for me to give the spotlight to fear, lack and limitation. But when I simply notice I’ve done that and take responsibility for doing it (instead of engaging in shoulds and “yeah, buts”), it’s a lot easier to shine the light of my awareness where I really choose to.

This choice to focus on truth is apparently one I need to make over and over again. I practice it in meditation so I can do it more easily in my “normal” life. And it gets easier. Every time I remember to make that kind of choice, I leave a little trail of breadcrumbs that make my highest truth easier to find the next time.

There’s more good news about all this related to how our brains and nerve systems work. It’s called reciprocal inhibition. Whatever I put in the center ring of my awareness expands, and all the lunacy and mayhem on the fringes diminish. This motivates me to keep making the choice for joy and peace without excessive resistance or justification. I’d rather have joy and peace in the center ring and not resistance and justification!

My hip is pretty much fine again, and I bless it once again for helping me to practice making the choice for truth (and for feeling better, too). There were times in the first week or two after injuring it when the choice to focus on my highest truth seemed very difficult to make, and what I discovered was that by simply being willing to make it, that helped. When the pain or frustration or worry seemed overwhelming, I remembered (most of the time) to simply say to myself, “I am willing to experience joy right now.” That really helped me to remember all the tools I have for accessing joy, and the willingness itself felt a lot better than the angst. Even when the angst wouldn’t completely leave the center ring, taking responsibility for choosing it felt more empowering and hopeful than being at its mercy.

I know we each have everything we need to live our life so well that when we die, the world cries and we rejoice. It’s happening right now in the center ring…so it behooves me to be mindful and responsible about what I put there!

And if that’s all I remember, that’s more than enough for now.

My hip continues to improve (please see last post), and I am grateful for that, though at times I find myself sad. Maybe it’s because I’m dog tired, or maybe it’s because I still lapse into wrestling matches with worry and fatalism and feeling old. Three against one is not really fair.

My work with the meaning I assign to it all is, obviously, ongoing. I’ve chosen to see it from the highest possible point of view, to let the meaning unfold from a place of clarity and wholeness, and to stay the heck out of the wrestling ring (why do they call it a ring when it’s square?). For the most part, that’s what I’ve been doing, and I’ve managed to enjoy the blessings that have already shown up and to stay open to any more that might happen by. I’m grateful for that, too, as well as for the fact that I speak about these very things every Sunday. Knowing I’ll be up there inspires me to practice what I preach!

Somewhere in my process, I realized I was in good company and that some of my heroes had “bad” hips, too. Charles Fillmore, the co-founder of Unity, broke his hip in an ice-skating injury at age 10 and was left with “permanent” deformity and disability. Ralph Waldo Emerson also had a chronic hip problem. In neither case did it stop them from shining their light on the world. More good news is that both were “cured”. Fillmore, who was told he wouldn’t live past age 18, and whose withered leg was markedly shorter than the other, died at age 94 with 2 legs of nearly equal length. He attributed his healing to prayer, meditation, affirmations and denials, and basically “spiritualizing” his body.

Emerson was reportedly cured by “a quack”. Somehow I feel really good about the way both of their healings came about.

And then there’s the very first case of a hip injury recorded in the literature (as far as I know). The hip belonged to Jacob and the story is in Genesis. He wrestled with “a man” all night. At daybreak things were still at a stalemate when the man struck Jacob on the hip and “put it out of joint”. Still Jacob clung on and grappled until the man (who Jacob then realized was God or an angel of God) asked to be let go. “I will not let you go unless you bless me”, is Jacob’s reply. The angel blesses Jacob with a new name.

I have found great meaning in this story this week. For Jacob, being in exile for 20 years for fear of his brother (whose earthly inheritance he stole), an all-night wrestling match with God and a dislocated hip were finally enough for him to surrender his ego and embrace his divine inheritance. His new name signified a new state of consciousness. For me, this is possible in every moment.

The word “wrestle” is derived from the root of the word “turn.” So every time I’ve realized I was wrestling with things from a limited, fear-based, ego-driven place, I’ve remembered to “turn the other hip” to the other side of my nature, the unlimited, whole, divine side. I’ve done this by forcing myself to consider all there is to be grateful for, by breathing into my heart so that my brain didn’t continue to fly solo, by inquiring into the meaning I’ve given to things and opening up to other possibilities, and by reminding myself that joy and peace were closer than my next breath.

Every time I’ve done this, every time I’ve looked at things with both my heart and head engaged, every time I’ve turned the other hip in this way, I’ve come away with a greater understanding or awareness. Every time I’ve brought things to that place in my own consciousness where God and I are one, I’ve felt less sad, more hopeful and more empowered. I’m not sure what will happen with my hip, but if choices are to be made or actions taken, from that place I know I can make them and take them from a place of power and presence.

Jacob’s story also reminded me that whatever it is I might wrestle with, it will not let me go until I bless it. In order to bless it (or him or her), I have to first see things from a different place, a truer place, a more expansive place. And as soon as I do, the need to wrestle with it begins to let go of me. So I bless me hip, because not only has it provided me with a bunch of rest and relaxation, it has also reminded me that joy is always a choice away and that I don’t access it by wrestling. I experience it by turning; away from the often crazy and limiting meanings I give things with my surface mind, and toward the bottomless well of love, strength and wisdom that is always right here, right now.

And if that’s all I remember, that’s more than enough for now.

The Buddha said, “When the mind is pure, joy follows like a shadow that never leaves.” When he referred to a pure mind, I don’t think he was talking about one that was free of lustful thoughts (at least I hope not). I think he was talking more about a mind that was un-muddled and un-muddied by what he called “conditioning”; one that was relatively free of learned, robot-like, ego-based reactions, patterns, and mechanisms.

One my teachers, Richard J. Santo, used to say, “If you want to be happy, stop doing whatever it is that’s making you unhappy.” He was saying the same thing as the Buddha: unless we choose something else (consciously or unconsciously) to occupy center stage in our awareness, we would experience joy. Joy is like a bottomless well that sits just below the surface of our minds that is often obscured from our sight by all the resentment and guilt and worry and thinking we don’t deserve and thinking we must beat ourselves up sufficiently before we could ever experience joy.

Sometimes joy bubbles up in the hardest and darkest times. That’s how I know it’s always there. The most dramatic example for me was when my dad was making his transition in 2005. We had spent a horrific 2 weeks in the hospital and at this point he had stopped talking. My brother, the nurse and I helped him into the bathroom and sat him down, and when we closed the bathroom door behind us the nurse asked, “Are you comfortable?” Now, my dad always had a stock answer to this particular question but hearing it in that moment was the furthest thing from our minds. But sure enough, a weak voice came through the door: “I make a living.” I still can’t quite describe the joy we all experienced in that moment and it clearly felt as though it had been there all along, just waiting for an opportunity to slip through all the other things we had been thinking and feeling.

So, with a general intention to experience more joy, I’ve been paying attention to how I tend to muddy the waters of my consciousness. And I discovered a big one recently while meditating: all the meaning I assign to everything, even my own thoughts. I was sitting out at the lake, soaking in the sound of the lapping waves, watching my own thoughts and my reactions to them. Everything was hunky dory until a car went by blasting some music, the bass sounding like a series of sonic booms. Instead of simply noticing the new sound and acknowledging it as part of my experience in that moment, I immediately went to, “Why does he have to play his lousy music so loud?” Four or five additional judgments later, I realized I had lost sight of my joy. In reflecting on this phenomenon, I realized I’m always doing this! I give meaning to everything, and often that meaning isn’t necessarily true. Often it’s the same meaning I assigned when I was two years old. Often that meaning is not aligned with my core values. Often that meaning limits me and makes it harder for me to unfold what is good and beautiful and true about me.

What does it really mean when someone disagrees with me, or disapproves of me, or judges me? What does it mean when someone’s behavior annoys or baffles me? What does it mean when things don’t go according to my plans? When I look deeply and honestly at these questions, the only answer is, “I don’t really know.” And when I don’t really know, I can remember that the meaning I assign to anything is essentially a guess or an opinion anyway, so why not give it meaning that expands me and allows me to express my highest? Why not give it a meaning that will give my life more meaning?

Among the beings I know well, the one with the purest mind is my dog, Brenna. Indeed, she never seems to be very far removed from her joy, even in situations when I know she would prefer things to be different than they are. And I really believe it’s because she doesn’t attach a ton of meaning to things. If I stop throwing her stick, for example, she doesn’t wonder why, she doesn’t assume she did something wrong, she doesn’t appear to hold anything against me or herself, she simply sits down and starts chewing the stick or starts throwing it around for herself. In other words, the only meaning she assigns to an “obstacle” is that it means she must make a different choice, one that still allows her to access her deep well of joy. I am truly inspired by this incredible wisdom, and I’m fairly certain one need not have a brain the size of a golf ball in order to display similar wisdom. And there are so many opportunities to practice!

This week I was “supposed” to go backpacking. We’d arranged our schedule to take the time off, and my daughter did likewise as she came up from Santa Cruz to join us. It was to be a time of fun, relaxation, communing, connection and oneness. Then the day before we were to leave, I jumped off a ten-inch high rock and landed wrong, severely tweaking my hip to the point where I couldn’t put any weight on it. Home I limped, feeling angry, scared, guilty (Hillary had been talking about going backpacking for years) and generally old, stupid and very sorry for myself. Where did my joy go?

Hillary helped me reclaim it by reminding me I was giving it all the meaning it had for me. And wow, what meaning that was! A brief synopsis: I would never be able to hike again, I sucked for ruining my family’s week, I brought it on myself because originally I’d had some resistance to the idea, etc., etc. With Hillary’s help, I emulated Brenna. My daughter decided to come up anyway, I surrendered to what was, I asked for prayers, I opened up and thoroughly enjoyed being taken care of, and we’ve had a time of fun, relaxation, communing, connection and oneness. And, my hip is recovering much, much faster than I imagined, and I think there’s every reason to look forward to a hiking future.

I think I’ll notice when I’m muddling my joy with meaning a little more quickly and easily now. And I know that will continue to reveal my bottomless well of joy in more of my moments. My mind may never be as pure as Brenna’s, but there’s always hope!

And if that’s all we remember, that’s more than enough for now.

I apologize for the grammar, but hey, it’s a lyric from a song.

The late, great George Carlin once said, “I put a dollar in one of those change machines. Nothing changed.” There’s wisdom in that as well as humor. Living under a brain as I do, I’ve noticed that often it seems to me as if nothing changes, and apparently I’m not alone, based on how often I hear something like, “Same schmootz; different day.” This contrasts sharply with the truth of the matter, which is that change is constant and just as inevitable as death and taxes (and often equally desirable).

On every level of material existence, everything is changing in every moment. Nature shows me a different face every single time I commune with Her, which is often. 98% of the atoms that currently comprise my physical body will be comprising something else 3 months from now. Even more amazingly, according to Ken Wilbur the entire manifest universe blinks in and out of existence every .00000000000000000000000000000000000000000001 seconds. So in the time it took Carlin to put the dollar into the machine, a whole bunch of things changed. It’s rather amazing how well our brains hoodwink us into believing otherwise.

Even the Bible reminds me that everything changes. One of the most common phrases in it is, “It came to pass…” Not once does it say, “It came to stay.”

I used to resist change, which is probably why I was OK with the hoodwinking. I even resisted change when I knew I could use a great deal of it. Change brings me into the unknown, which at times seems worse than whatever is going on, no matter how bad it is. This has historically been compounded by my tendency to want to figure out in advance all the possible ramifications, combinations and permutations that could result from making a change. And my figurings and imaginings were not usually what one would call the best case scenarios. No wonder I resisted change!

I’ve come to embrace change, and this has been a tremendous gift. Understanding that change is inevitable is very helpful to me. It reminds me that I can change. Sometimes I look at some of my issues and berate myself over the fact that I’ve been working on the same ones for 30 years. But when I breathe and look more deeply I clearly see that I view these issues now from a much different perspective, approach them with many more effective tools, and generally hold them with a lot more humor and lightness. That’s a huge change!

As I’ve let go of figuring out what might happen if something was to change and focused instead on expressing my deepest values and intentions no matter what was going on, every day I become more of the person that I choose to be; every moment the spiritual being that I am shines forth a little more brightly. In becoming aware of (and OK with) the impermanence of things, it has also helped me to remember to focus more on what doesn’t change, to identify more and more with the eternal, unchanging, unchangeable aspect of my being. This divine essence is my anchor and has become a safe haven in the storms of the world and of my mind. It’s easy to fall asleep to that essence when I buy into the idea that things don’t change. Change keeps me awake.

Change is gonna do us good, especially when we remember that it’s the only constant and when we remember to use it for good. The coolest thing of all is that every time I focus on what doesn’t change and awaken to the depths and truth of my being, everything changes.

And if that’s all we remember, that’s more than enough for now.