Nothing is Wrong

Building on my recent posts about judgment and acceptance, I want to further explore something that helped give me the greatest peace I have ever experienced. I hinted at this in my original post about my spiritual journey with meditation, but I want to expand on it a bit.

I have come to believe that there is nothing wrong with the world. It seems that almost every western religion has the idea that we live in a fallen world. And the purpose of God and/or the religion is to fix the problem(s) that has/have been created, either by man or by some evil influence such as a devil. When I began to step away from the concepts of right/wrong, good/evil, I found myself entering a beautiful state of peace. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

If there is nothing wrong, there is no need for guilt or judgment. When I slip back into the mindset that something is wrong, I instantly judge it. And it doesn't take long for that judgment to snowball. Pretty soon, I find myself irritable, angry, and exhausted. Judging others, judging myself, and judging the situations in which I find myself is an incredibly exhausting job. And it's very unhelpful. In fact, I find it does more harm to my sense of peace and happiness and to my relationships with others than anything else.

Years ago, I would have considered this idea ridiculous. Nothing wrong with the world? Just look around! Everything is wrong! In addition to sounding stupid on the face of it, it also smells a lot like moral relativism or nihilism. I always thought those philosophies were a bit crazy because they seem to say that if there is no absolute right or wrong (or no right or wrong at all), then you can do whatever you want, and it doesn't matter. Anything goes. That sounds like a recipe for disaster.

As to whether the idea of "nothing is wrong" is stupid or not, I'll let the results speak for themselves. It has been instrumental in a deeper spiritual awakening in my life than I had ever before experienced. And for a description of why it might be the right idea, both psychologically and spiritually, see my previous posts on judgment and acceptance. Maybe the only thing that's stupid is our usual western perspective on life and our focus on what's 'wrong' with the world.

As for moral relativism and nihilism, I don't know whether the 'anything goes' attitude is a natural result of those philosophies or not. But for myself, while I don't think there needs to be any moral right or wrong, I think it's clear that every action carries with it natural consequences. So if I choose to take harmful drugs, I can expect a likely consequence of that action to follow. Among other undesirable effects, I may become addicted to the drugs. This results in a loss of freedom, which will negatively affect my happiness. So it's not 'wrong' to use drugs, but it's unhealthy. And my use of them could harm me and those around me.

We can't escape natural consequences, but the moral freedom to choose something unhealthy on occasion is quite liberating. I try to eat healthy food most of the time. But sometimes I want something unhealthy. Although it sounds ridiculous, a pretty common cycle in this case could look something like this: I fight the urge until I'm mentally exhausted; I break down and eat whatever is tempting me; I beat myself up for my weakness, which fills me with guilt making me more likely to need that unhealthy 'fix' to bring me back up. This is the addictive cycle, and it occurs with food, sex, alcohol, or any other pleasure that we associate in any way with guilt.

Growing up, I was taught to fight the unhealthy (or evil) urge or to run away from it. I have learned that this only empowers the thing I'm fighting. The only way to defuse it is to open to it. That doesn't mean I have to act on the urge, but I can. And acting on it may actually help me break the cycle, though it may not be worth it depending on the act. But here's how that might work:

Without a sense of moral right or wrong, I can make an unhealthy choice, but without the guilt. Without the guilt, it's easier to avoid getting caught up in the act, letting me step back and view the thing objectively. I am then able, at a deep level, to become consciously aware of my desires, my actions, and their consequences. This awareness makes it possible to break the addictive cycle by seeing clearly the chain of cause and effect at a deep place in my soul.

Note that I can also do this without acting on the urge, and it's probably better if I don't. But it may be more 'real' and accessible to me if I actually act. And if I'm truly addicted to it, I may act on it anyway, so I may as well use the act to help me break the cycle. But if I have a choice, and if the consequences are bad enough, it may not be wise to act. If you have the urge to hurt someone, for example, I recommend you don't act on that urge.

Through mindful awareness, I have come to see how damaging it is to be a slave of desire. Freedom from desire appears to be a mark of true enlightenment. I don't know exactly what that would look like, but having loosened or broken some of the chains of desire in myself, it seems like a good goal. And if my experience is to be trusted, it seems like letting go of the idea that there is something wrong with the world, either inside myself or outside, may be a key to achieving that state.

Acceptance

Something that has brought me profound peace is the ability to quietly and gently accept the unacceptable. This is something I was not taught in my religion. In a world full of good and evil, with those forces led by God and the devil, with militant teachings (found in scripture and in the teachings of living leaders) about a spiritual war being waged for the souls of men -- how can one accept the opposing side?

I wasn't able to find my deepest peace fully through Christianity. I imagine there are those who can, but I could not. It was not until I gave up on the idea of evil that I was able to fully enter into the opposing side and find it populated with friends. By submitting to the universe tugging at me, I learned to accept the demons in my life, both inward and outward, and understand them better. I learned to see the world as a complex interplay of many types of forces, which, when balanced, create a beautiful, colorful tapestry of life.

It's not in battle that we find peace. It's in acceptance. And balance.

When I began to truly accept everything at a deep level, there was no more room in my mind for the concept of evil. And no room in my heart for anger or hatred. Without these, there was nothing left in my soul to foster conflict. And the natural result was a deep, abiding peace.

But without the concept of evil, what does sin mean? Without sin, why the need for a redeeming sacrifice by God's Son? This shift in my soul tore the foundation out from under Christianity for me. All that was left was love. And that seemed like enough.

So a few years ago, I walked away from the religion I had known and loved. And it was difficult. More difficult than I know how to describe. But it was the right choice for me.

On Judgment

Recently, I posted about my experiences in learning about a simpler approach to life. Part of my reason for moving away from my religious heritage was the recognition that there was a more effective approach to life than the effort-based model I grew up with.

While this is true, I think a more important concept that helped me move on in my spiritual path was the concept of judgment. Or rather, the total abandonment of it.

I tend to forget this concept on a regular basis as I get pulled back into old, deeply entrenched patterns of thought. So I think this post has two purposes. I want to share an important principle that differentiates me from my religious background. And I want to document my thinking here to help remind me when I forget.

I remember several months ago my mantra had become something like, "There are no enemies, only friends I haven't yet come to know." This applies to people when they cut me off in traffic. It applies to situations that cause me pain or inconvenience. And most of all, it applies to my own thoughts, emotions, and impulses. By making friends with what I used to consider 'evil' or wrong, I have come to see that there is no evil. There is imbalance. There is illness. But nothing is truly malicious. And that is especially true of the various parts that make up my 'self.'

I have found that regardless of what's happening around me, I can create a state of heavenly peace inside of me by being at one with myself. By accepting what's happening around and inside of me without judgment.

For the parts inside me, I accept that they are what they are, but that doesn't mean I have to act on every impulse I feel. It just means I give them all attention. I seek to understand them without judging them. And slowly, their masks peel away to reveal ... myself. They are me. They are my friends. And having experienced this many times now, I am becoming convinced that there simply are no enemies. Just friends we haven't yet taken the time to get to know.

For the external world, I found that when I fight reality, insisting that it be something other than what it is, I create conflict inside of me, and potentially with those around me. Most of what occurs outside of me is completely outside of my control, so it's best to offer the serenity prayer and simply let go of judgment. When I do, the enemies I have made all around me tend to transform into friends.

It was in letting go of the need to judge that I was finally able to stop the war I had been waging with myself and the world around me. Or it might have been the other way around - when I stopped the war, judgment vanished. Either way, when I stopped fighting that war, I found peace.

The Effortless Way

My move away from the Mormon church was more experiential than intellectual, so it has been difficult for me to explain my reasons for the change. In this post, I will explore one of the concepts that may have played a role. At some point in my new spiritual practice, I began to see that my old model of living life wasn't as effective as the new model I found.

Mormon theology teaches a nice balance between grace and works. In the words of the Book of Mormon Prophet Nephi, "it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do" (2 Nephi 25:23). Although grace is an important part of that teaching, when compared to Martin Luther's epiphany about grace, motivated by scriptures like Ephesians 2:8-9, "by grace are ye saved through faith ... not of works, lest any man should boast," it's clear that the LDS doctrine emphasizes works more than some other Christian, particularly Protestant, denominations. Because of this, I'll emphasize the insufficiency of the effort-based model. But I'll touch on grace a little bit too.

I recognized many years ago that overcoming pride was not something I could do through thinking about it. If I tried, I would only get stuck in a battle I couldn't win. Because I would be fighting myself. To be humble, I couldn't think my way into it. I couldn't get there through effort. I had to just be humble. I can't give you a formula for being humble. All I know is that it isn't through force of will that humility is realized.

Through meditation, I learned that this was true for many different aspects of life, not just pride. With Mormonism's focus on works, and being raised in American society, much of my religious and secular upbringing focused on effort. I came to believe that I could become anything I wanted if I just worked hard enough. While there is an element of truth in this idea, I have found this effort-based mental model to be expensive and ineffective.

Some years ago, I found great insight and healing through meditation. Part of this was learning to let go. Of everything. And as I began to let go - of preconceptions, judgments, presumed knowledge, etc, I found I could look at myself objectively and pierce the fog of mystery surrounding the core of who I am. I was able to penetrate the illusions I had built up about myself for years and, looking deeply without judging the experience, emotion, thought, memory, or whatever I was experiencing, I began to see the essence of the thing more clearly. And as I began to see, the thing I focused on began to lose its power and dissolve.

No effort. No force of will. No struggle to convince myself. Just a natural, simple, relatively effortless process of cleansing and healing.

Not that it was easy. It took courage to face my demons; and patience to let them show themselves in their own time. But though it wasn't easy, it was almost the opposite of effort. It was kind of like lining myself up with the flow of a river. It took a little work on my part, but it was mostly just me letting go and allowing the river carry me.

This process worked with pride, fear, shame, sorrow, loneliness, and more. All sorts of negative emotions and memories that got in the way of my spiritual progress. But also seemingly positive feelings like desire and attachment. We tend to think of these as happy because there's an element of excitement and potential growth in them. But hidden behind the excitement is a clinging and, sometimes, a fear of loss. I came to see these more clearly also and learned to let go of them.

Through meditation, I was able to achieve a deeper level of healing and more profound spiritual growth than what I found through decades of effort and solicitation of God's grace. So while I appreciate my religious upbringing, I believe the worldview I inherited is somehow lacking. I think I've found something better. And it doesn't rely on tradition, ritual, doctrine, creed, scripture, authority, or even God.

As a Mormon, I had been taught that the key to my salvation was in Jesus Christ. And maybe that's true. I mean no disrespect to the Christian religion, but I now believe that the key to my salvation was never "out there." It wasn't in any other person or external thing. My salvation was inside of me. And when I looked inward, deeply, I found it. No more looking outside (e.g. grace) for someone else to fix what's wrong with me. I had the power inside myself all along.

My conception of God, at least in the sense of an anthropomorphic being, may not have been involved in my healing process, but it is possible that God did play a role. I don't know who or what God is exactly. Perhaps God is that beautiful flow of life I sometimes sense inside of me. Maybe God is a part of me. Or I am a part of Him. Maybe God is the ocean I referred to in a recent blog post. And maybe He was just waiting for me to bring my attention inward sufficiently to unmask Him. To remove the shroud I had woven over the years that kept Him hidden from me.

No amount of effort from me or grace from God seemed able to remove the shroud. It was a part of me. I couldn't tear it off anymore than I could tear off a wound and expect it to be healed. It wasn't until a deep part of me recognized the shroud for what it was that it began to remove itself. The shroud was my ego. And as I began to transform, I came to see that this ego (a collection of memories, thoughts, feelings, etc), which I had always taken to be my self or my personality, was only an illusion. And through my awareness of it, it began to dissolve. I think this is what the Buddha meant when he talked about "no self".

My recent spiritual experiences have given me a deeper peace than I have ever known. And with fewer complications from my ego, my life, while still busy, has been simpler and more fulfilling in recent years than it had ever been before. I think I may now understand what Jesus meant when He said, "my yoke is easy, and my burden is light" (Matthew 11:30). I think the good life is an effortless one. Not lazy. Just effortless.

Paradoxically, the "effortless way" is not found without work. It takes practice to enter into a state of flow. There's a story that illustrates this beautifully.

Chuang Tzu tells a story about a butcher who became exceptional in his craft. After years of practice, he achieved a mastery of his profession in which all method dissolved and, when carving an ox, he intuitively felt his way through the animal, finding the spaces between the joints and cleaving the ox with very little effort. So efficient was he at finding these empty spaces that he said he had not sharpened his knife in 19 years. There was no need since the blade only ever encountered emptiness.

As a master butcher, he exerted very little effort in his craft, but he had studied and practiced for years before reaching that point. Whether the story is true is not important. The principle it teaches is that of alignment with the Tao, or the 'way.' Alignment with life or the universe. Alignment with what is. A unified state of being. Being in the flow. It takes practice to get there, but when we do, things become so much easier. Life is like the butcher's cleaving. Through alignment with reality, we become aware of the spaces through which we can exert a little influence to create significant change.

I've experienced that alignment at various times. I knew it through Mormonism. But I have found a more effective way to achieve it in meditation. As a result, I have experienced this 'flow' a number of times in the last few years. In this state, it seems like the entire universe conspires to bless me. Everything goes well. Even the things that don't seem desirable turn out to be beneficial.

Though I've only tasted this alignment a few times, I believe it is possible to feel it regularly. And the good life, or the effortless state, can become our daily experience.

Al-Gebra

A colleague sent me this disturbing clip from a recent news article:

A public school teacher was arrested today at John F. Kennedy airport this morning as he attempted to board a flight while in possession of a ruler, a protractor, a compass, a slide-rule, and a calculator. At a press conference just before noon today, Attorney General William Barr said he believed the man is a member of the notorious Al-Gebra movement. Although he did not identify the man, he confirmed the man had been charged by the FBI with carrying weapons of math instruction.

"Al-Gebra is a problem for us," the Attorney General said. "They derive solutions by means and extremes, and sometimes go off on tangents in search of absolute values. They use secret code names like 'X' and 'Y' and refer to themselves as 'unknowns', but we have determined that they belong to a common denominator of the axis of medieval with coordinates in every country. As the Greek philosopher Isosceles used to say, 'There are three sides to every triangle.'" The Attorney General went on to say, "Teaching our children sentient thought processes and equipping them to solve problems is dangerous and puts our government at risk."

It could be fake news, but ... makes you think, doesn't it? :)

Growing Up

When we're young, we rely on our parents. For everything. They protect us from the dangers of the world. They provide for our needs. They give us comfort, solace, and answers to our questions. They seem to know everything.

As we grow older, we realize they don't know as much as we thought.

Some of us tend to swing the pendulum a bit too far in the opposite direction. Sometimes we think our parents are idiots. Sometimes the doubt that comes in through a realization of their finite power makes us discredit their power completely. We begin to become independent in our thoughts and our actions.

But some of us enter into that independence a little more gently. Our parents become equals. Or we become our parents' equals. Maybe even a guide to them at times.

I have four kids. I'm not a kid anymore. My transition to adulthood happened a long time ago. Now I'm on the other side of the deal and I'm watching my kids go through this transition.

My oldest son has already become my equal. His life has become more complex. His studies, his relationships, his questions - I don't have all of the answers anymore. And he knows it. I'm honest with him about my lack of knowledge. And most of the time, when he asks me a question, I tell him I have no idea what the right answer is. But thankfully, he still talks to me anyway. And we talk together as friends. As equals.

We muse together. We hypothesize together. We simulate possible futures. We philosophize. But there's very little parent-child teaching going on anymore. He only recently left home, but even before he had left, I had already reached the limits of my parental knowledge and influence.

My second child, my oldest daughter, is reaching that same point. In our discussions lately, I'm finding fewer and fewer opportunities to teach her with solid answers. When she asks me questions or confides in me about her concerns or worries, I find myself answering her questions with more questions. With suppositions. With philosophical statements that lead to no concrete action or even a recommendation of what to do. I just don't have the answers or solutions to their problems anymore.

My youngest two children are not far behind. Their lives are not quite as complicated as the oldest two. But they're often flirting with issues that are too difficult for simple answers.

I see my children growing up and it's a wistful experience. I'm both happy and sad to see their progress. I have loved watching them go through various stages of life. And I sometimes miss some of those stages when they pass. But I'm happy for them to become the wonderful men and women that I see them becoming.

In many ways, even the simple things they struggled with when they were young were too complex for simple answers. But I gave them answers anyway. I don't know if that was for their benefit or mine. I wanted to have the answers. I wanted to make them feel safe. But maybe I was only holding on to my own ego. Maybe watching my kids grow up has forced me to look beyond my ego and to see life more fully, in all of its wild beauty and complexity.

Maybe I'm finally growing up.

The Egg

My son sent this video to the family. I loved it so much, I thought I would post it here. It's based on a short story written by Andy Weir.



Andy is agnostic, so I wouldn't get too hung up on the literal truth of the story as told here. But it's a beautiful idea and well worth thinking about.

It seems to be an extreme view of some concepts from eastern religious traditions - concepts related to the interconnectedness and unity of all reality. I've never seen the idea taken to such an extreme before, but there's something beautiful about the way Andy does this.

If you liked this, let me know. I'd love to hear what other people think about this video.

It's All One Energy

I just heard a quote from a guy named Alan Watts. I've been listening to him on various youtube posts, and I find him fascinating. Here's one of the more beautiful quotes I've garnered from this video. Unfortunately, I can't seem to find out when and where he said it.

Thoughts, you see, belong to the world of symbols. What we experience with our senses is, of course, the physical world, the real world. You may ask me, ‘well, isn’t there also a spiritual world?’. But you must understand that the spiritual world is the same thing as the physical when the physical is not confused with the symbolic. There is no real difference between the spiritual and the physical. It’s all one energy.

Alan Watts

Religious Humility

All religions have good in them.

Unfortunately, they can also cause a lot of harm and suffering. History, both ancient and recent, is a witness to this fact.

Like anything else, religion is a mixed bag. It has both light and dark in it. But I don't think the dark is a necessary part of religion. And perhaps by understanding it better, we can avoid becoming part of the dark ourselves.

The Good

Here's some of the good that I see in religion. Religion can give us ...

1. A conduit to a spiritual connection with something greater than ourselves.
2. A social structure that offers us a sense of community and belonging.
3. A philosophical structure for understanding the world, including a sense of our place in it and our duty.
4. A set of ethics, a moral code that enables us to bring light into the world, both for ourselves and for others around us.
5. A sense of purpose in life.

I'm sure there are other benefits we could list, but this seems like a good starting point. So we can get a lot of value from religion, including some very practical (non-spiritual) benefits.

The Bad

So what is the dark side?

I think the dark side of religion is all about arrogance. Arrogance breeds conflict, self-righteousness, insular communities, shaming, shunning, and many other things. Of all of the children of arrogance, conflict is perhaps the darkest. Let's look at these two things a bit closer.

Arrogance - religion can make people so sure of themselves that everyone who disagrees with them is, at best, misguided and, at worst, an enemy of God. This can lead people to think they are special or chosen. While that can have some psychological benefit, it is also quite dangerous. It leads them to draw lines separating themselves from others. Individuals and organizations tend to draw boundaries around themselves. You are then either in or out. You are for us or against us. And once the battle lines are drawn, the conflict begins.

There's no official declaration of war, of course. The conflict begins with subtlety. We speak out against other points of view. We denigrate other people and organizations that disagree with us. We engage in social and psychological warfare. And in extreme cases, we engage in physical violence. We make the Other into the Enemy.

At the root of it all is arrogance. We begin the conflict by believing we know something that others don't. And even if we desire to share that knowledge with them, there is still the potential for us to engage in conflict. Sometimes it's as simple as feeling superior. But it can be much more heinous than that.

Not that all people will engage in conflict, but we're all susceptible to it in some form. And given enough people in a given religious tradition, we're bound to find some in positions of power who are predisposed to fight. In an environment in which faith has become rigid, we're going to have conflict.

Rigidity of faith seems to come about because we codify our creed. We write it down, and it becomes inflexible. Our faith, which probably began as a beautiful, fluid motion, full of life and excitement, begins to fossilize. And in the soil of certainty, nourished by a codified creed, our faith ossifies into a rigid, cold, lifeless structure, giving us no room for further learning or growth.

The Solution

The antidote to arrogance, of course, is humility. And humility is a necessary ingredient of true faith. Faith isn't knowledge. Faith isn't certainty. In fact, it's somewhat the opposite. Faith is powerful because it seeks knowledge, but it's even more powerful because it falls short. At the root of faith is uncertainty. And because we don't know with certainty the things we believe on a spiritual level (or perhaps on any level), we have room to grow, and room to allow others to grow.

This humility is fundamental in good science as well as good religion. And in any discipline that seeks truth. We should always be willing to re-examine our assumptions, test our theories, and discover new truth. In this kind of environment, truth tends to win eventually.

I think individual and organizational humility is the key to avoiding the conflict that gives religion a bad name. Rather than tearing down someone else's faith, perhaps we can each become the change we want to see in the world by dismantling our own arrogance. This is true whether we believe in a Higher Power or not. The lack of such a belief is also a type of faith.

As we introduce humility into our hearts, we will naturally allow each person, including ourselves, the freedom to find their own path. That freedom, devoid of the chains of certainty, leads to a beautiful state of peace, both internally and externally.

Finding the Source

For the last few years, I've been practicing meditation. And initially, I had such profound experiences with it that it fundamentally changed my perspective on many things. It was so transformational that it led to my abandonment of the religion in which I grew up. That's a pretty big deal for me because that religion was a huge influence on my life for about 40 years.

But in the last couple of years, that meditation practice has come and gone. And my experiences have been less powerful. And my character has become ... less noble than I would like. In meditation, I found I had the ability to bring a profound sense of peace, joy, and love into my everyday life. And at one point near the beginning of my journey, I felt like I had infinite patience. Nothing was able to rattle me, and I responded to every situation with incredible love and kindness. For anyone who knows me well, that's a big deal because I am often impatient with little, insignificant things. Somehow, meditation transformed me at a very deep level. But lately, that impatience has resurfaced.

A few months ago, I got sick of the man I was becoming, and I began to search for new ideas and new methods to enhance, stabilize, and deepen my spiritual practice. Among other things, I came across a book called "The Surrender Experiment" by Michael (Mickey) Singer. It's a beautiful book, but I won't attempt a full review here. Among other things, it reminded me of some things I had once known, but forgotten. It reminded me of meditation's ability to draw me out of myself. By focusing on the breath, I found myself able to separate my awareness from the chatter of my mind. I have found this separation to be a very useful first step toward deeper states of awareness.

Building on this and other ideas, I began to feel hope that I had rediscovered the path - whatever that means. And I began to go ballistic on my meditation practice. I was obsessed with moving beyond the man I had become and recapturing some of the magic I had found in my initial work with meditation, but had somehow lost. Over the course of several weeks, I spent hours each day in meditation, and I began to catch glimpses of that magic once more.

My practice has since lessened in its intensity, but I am still on that quest to recapture the magic. Recently, I have begun to see that what I had lost was the ability to go deep within myself. I believe one of the things that tripped me up was getting caught in mental models of the process. The mind weaves intricate webs of thoughts, ideas, and feelings, to help us make sense of the world. And as wonderful as that is, it can also prevent us from truly experiencing the world. Our reality becomes the mental model we have created rather than the thing itself.

In my meditation recently, I have been practicing gently moving beyond thoughts, words, emotions, sensations - letting go of each as it comes. And as I empty myself of all of that stuff, I seem to enter into a place beyond thoughts and words. It's a quiet place. It feels like I've gone somewhere else. Almost like sleep. It's not sleep, but it is very relaxing. And I get the sense that I've gone somewhere deep inside of myself, to a place that is deeper than the mind. As I penetrate this place, I sense the love, peace, and joy I previously had, but have somehow lost. It's like I've tapped into a vast ocean of the stuff, and the more time I spend down there, the more of it I can bring back with me when I come out of my meditation.

At the risk of generating more mental models that will prevent me from actually experiencing this ocean of love, I wanted to document what my recent experiences have felt like. I want to do this both for myself, to remind myself when I get lost and forgot how to find the magic, and for others who may be curious about this path. Here's what it feels like to me:

It feels like I am a wave on the ocean. My ego and my thoughts keep me rooted in the reality above the surface of the water. In my normal life, I tend to think of myself as separate and distinct, and I am insulated from the deep ocean beneath me. But when I move beyond my thoughts, emotions, etc., it's like I poke a hole in some insulating barrier under me. I sink into the ocean and realize -- I am not the wave.

I am part of something deeper and more vast than I can imagine in my typical waking moments. And I soak in that sense of awareness of connectivity ... and other things. Things like joy, peace, love, kindness, etc. When I first began to meditate, I was craving peace. And I found it more deeply than I had ever done before. But what I think I'm craving now is love. The love that allows me, at a fundamental level, to seek for what is best for everyone around me, including myself. I had a feeling from my initial practice that love might be the essence of all things - the fundamental building block of all life. My recent excursions into the ocean have reminded me of that feeling, and I think that vast ocean beneath us might just be made of love. In these experiences, I have often been reminded of the Bible's statement that "God is love" (1 John 4:8,16).

As my meditation ends and I come back up into the wave, I bring a little bit of that awareness with me, and a little bit of that essence of life, light, and love. It begins to flow into my ordinary life, as if the hole I poked on my way down stays open for a while. I somehow become a little more patient, a little more kind, a little more loving. It's like I've turned on a light inside, and I can bring that light into the world to share with others.

I think that what I'm describing here touches the foundation of all great religions: 1) a direct experience of something beautiful and divine. Through that experience, there is 2) a transformation or elevation of the soul. And with that transformation comes an opportunity to 3) share with the rest of the world the light that was found. That sharing doesn't need to be proselytizing. Just by being in the world, these people make the world a better place. They can't help but shine.

I'm still working on it, but I feel like this path I'm on is going in a good direction. I feel like I was given a beautiful gift in the profound power of my early experiences with meditation. And now, having been given that vision of what could be, I have been set on a path to capture it a little more slowly, so that it can become a part of my nature. So that I can live in that ocean with a deep understanding of how I got there. And maybe with that understanding, I can help a few others find their way as well.