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I really enjoyed this passage, and the awakin circle discussion around it last night.  Here is a recent story to add to the mix:

Last weekend I found myself in a frustrated moment--by back bike wheel has been stolen couple days prior, and the bus driver had just denied my entry onto the bus, which I was planning to take to a community bike shop to fix it up.  Definitely plenty of separateness in that moment, you could say. :)  As I trudged down the street with my bike, thinking over plan B and C, a little flash of realization occured: that this thinking feels myopic.  Yes I want to take care of my bike somehow, but I don't want to do it whilst curling into a discontented shell within myself and forgetting the world around me.

As it happens, the sounds of some folks yelling at each other caught my attention as I walked by a small street that was one-way blocked off to cars adjacent to the bigger street I was walking on.  It took me a moment to make senes of the scene: a young-ish couple, man and a woman, were unloading their small pickup truck and placing large pieces of junk--old boxspring, tattered couch, etc--on the street, tucked up against the one-way road block signs; and pursuing them angrily was an older man, maybe 60s, expressing his thorough discontent, "Don't dump your stuff (not exact words) on my street!"  Huh!  Not something you see everyday.

I approached the two men just as things were startig to get heated, with the older man getting angrier as they would not heed his warnings, and the younger man stepping defensively in between this man and his wife.  I'm generally fairly soft-spoken, so my first attempt to reason with the two men--"Hey guys, I'm sure you're both decent people; this is a sticky situation, but we don't need to escalate it like this"--got their attention for all of .5 seconds before they were back in each other's faces, with the older man beginning to make mild gestures to hold them back.

Longer story short, the yelling started bordering on physical aggressiveness, and the young couple, now done unloading, was getting back into their truck to take off.  It was clear no resolution was going to come in this moment, yet the older man, now more frustrated, continued yelling at the young couple (after the young man expressed in his own frustration how that approach "made him care even less").

Calm words weren't working, and physical intervention didn't seem like a good idea (nor would anyone recommend that for me ;))...I decided to yell myself.  (And though I didn't think it through fully consciousy in that moment, in retrospect I think it was out of caring, for all of them, not out of negativity.)  I raised my voice, directing it at the older man, saying that's enough, this is not cool, you may have a point but this is not the way to convey it (in a yelling voice, that is).  It seemed to reach the older man just enough to stun him out of the moment, at least briefly.  The young couple pulled away in the truck.  And then it was the older man and myself, looking at each other from across a gap the width of a truck.  Huh...now what?  Will his anger spill over to me?  Is this the part where we awkwardly scratch the back of our heads and kind of shuffle away?  Will we take a moment to debrief what in humanity just occured here?

Thankfully it turned out to be the latter. "Phew.  Maybe you're right; I did get a bit heated there," said the older man.  "Yea, you were running pretty hot..." I agreed.  "But isn't that outrageous?!  Dumping their dumpstuff (again not exact words) like that?!" his frustration returning.  "I mean, what would you do??"  I echoed the inquiry, "Yea, what *can* you do when trying to confront a wrong?" [or an apparent one]  We held the question together, and I ended up empathizing with my own situation--my one-wheeled bike still slung over my shoulder that whole time--sharing the experience of processing an unfortunate situation and wondering what to do next.

And this is where the passage talking about relationships as a bedrock, and moving towards wholeness struck a chord for this microcosm story.  All of a sudden the older man snaps his fingers and says, "Come with me!  I think I have an extra wheel in my shed."  How striking and almost graceful it was, his shift from venting to helping.  Part of me was hesitant, but another part recognized his positive intentions and felt good about supporting them.  Plus, I did need a wheel.  We walked towards his shed and kept talking through this thread of inquiry.

The story with him went on, including the wheel, connecting around the same professional field that had just retired from and I'm just entering, further reflecting on human nature & relationships and each of our subconscious blind spots, etc.  Part of the story was certainly relationships leading the way towards wholeness (my bike regained wholeness too! after some days and couple more shop visits).  At the same time fragmentation still remains, even from this microcosm--not being able to connect with this younger couple, the seeming chasm of understanding between folks coming from different places, just to name a couple.  I'll leave it there for now; thank you for your attention.

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I like this passage because of its vulnerability. I mean, choosing to walk through the building turned into a hairy situation! And yet the author chose to share the messy scene in service of elucidating a point about social intelligence and how our emotions and other person-to-person dynamics subtly but profoundly affect one another. That's cool in my book. And I know I can relate, often being the little rascal that I am :) and challenging authority -- I could totally be that guy trying to walk through the building and feeling anger at the guard's forceful response (in proportion to the actual offense). 

There's another point that's perhaps beyond the scope of the passage but worth mentioning, I think. It struck me intuitively at first, and then I was inspired to think more on it after seeing another comment express a similar perspective. Namely, another kind of intelligence: systems intelligence. That is, being aware of the systems/groups we're part of, and their rules, norms and contexts. From that perspective, noting the context of New York increasing security (don't know when this was in relation to 2001), the rules and norms of private property, etc might also ameliorate a situation like in this story, in addition to a mindfulness of emotional dynamics and people-to-people relationships.

Actually, I learned this lesson quite potently a few years ago in a restaurant: I was finishing a meal with friends, and being the aspiring-do-gooders that we were, :) couple of us wanted to help clean up the table (it was a pay-at-the-counter, non-table-service kind of restaurant). So we stacked our plates, and got up with them. Not seeing a bus bin, we decided to take our plates directly to the back kitchen. Bad idea it turned out! Or rather, systems-insensitive idea.

The owner (I assume) happened to be walking by at that moment, and seeing me with a stack of plates, said: "You can't go back there."  
I replied: "Oh, I'm sorry, where can I leave these dishes -- is there a bin or something?"
He retorted: "No, you don't have to do anything, just leave them on the table."  
I was still in my be-helpful context and not attuning to his systems norm, so being half way to the kitchen already I said, "That's okay, I want to clean up after myself." Spotting another small stack of dishes on a counter nearby where a bin might have been, I said "There we go, how bout I leave them there?"
Then he raised his voice, "No, no--you don't have to do anything!" The air was getting heated.

I was stuck in my "rational" mind, feeling stubborn to turn around and bring my dishes back to the table. I'm already up, it doesn't make sense to backtrack. Couldn't the owner see I was just being trying to be helpful anyway? These thoughts would turn to indignation. I had missed my opportunity to respond with kindness, been oblivious to where the owner was coming from within his system's context, and, *sigh*, compounded the anger that I received from the owner in my own self. It wasn't pretty, let me tell you.

At that moment, the kitchen staff came out and my friend who spoke Spanish started speaking to them. They thanked us in Spanish for helping with the dishes, the tension was momentarily diffused, and we left the restaurant. 

And this is where I like the Dharma Comic above, of someone feeling violated not by the wrongdoing done to them, but by their own rage in response. Gandhi said courage via violence is much preferable to inaction via cowardness. But after you've chosen to exhibit your courage using that kind of force, ask yourself: why did I need to resort to those means? How did I allow my dignity to be violated in such a way I felt I needed to defend it with force? (Side note: I've heard the Tagalog term for nonviolence is something like "alay dangal" which translates to "offering dignity") Introspecting this way, I can begin to neurally carve out another response, one that doesn't exacerbate anger but that moves with love.
 

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Robert Johnson wrote a relevant primer to myths in the introduction to "She":

Myths are rich sources of psychological insight. Hide full comment

I like this passage in how it breaks down a fundamental facet of human experience -- that we live with the past and the future, within the present moment. The converging river imagery conveys that beautifully.

As much as the next sincere seeker, I try my best to "live in the present." But I can't help but feel that's a sort of initial, simplistic instruction to follow -- like those rules we learned in math class before we discovered they were just training wheels preparing us for a more complex set of rules. So I value how the author addresses the past and future directly as legitimate streams of thought, rather than simply distractions from the present.  (I once got some lovely advice along those lines: "the future is a moment, just as the present; don't be afraid to plan ahead")

And yet, ruminating on the past or future *can* indeed be very distracting from living an engaged life, or as the author says, can induce fear and anxiety. He offers direct approaches for each stream: from the past, learn about yourself; and towards the future, cultivate a feeling of humbleness. Don't you just love that simplicity? :) (not to be confused with simplistic--yet ;))

It's almost scientific in its approach: anything past is already done, so the best you can do with it is learn from it. The future has not happened yet, and nobody can know exactly how it will happen, so rather than make negative (or even positive :)) predictions about it, the best you can do is approach it with a sense of curiosity and humbleness. 

That last one seems really important for this time. Predicting future behavior from past experience is part of our frontal-lobe skill sets as human beings, so quite natural. But are we overusing this capacity? Are our predictions becoming straight-jacket prophesies? â€‹â€‹Our role in climate change, for example. Or my ability to create a fulfilling life for myself, on a more personal level.

I was in a group asking these sorts of questions recently, and one fellow was really struggling with that personal level. He sincerely wanted to change, saw how his opinionating and over-talking was preventing him from connecting with people on a deeper level. And yet, as he was talking about the problems he wanted to change, he was enacting those same problems! Talking quickly and in run-on sentences, explaining from thinking rather than exploring from experiencing ... It was a compassion-eliciting sight.

Then someone mirrored his behavior back to him, confronting him with his fork in the road, of acting out of old behavior patterns, or exploring something new, which was more aligned with his goal. He  tried again, but once again started speaking quickly, nervously.  Finally, he threw up his arms and declared, "I don't know what to do!" Then the room was quiet. And it turns out that was exactly the first step of his exploration; there was finally an opening to create new pathways of behavior. It was a beautiful moment.

That "I don't know", I think, is the essence of the humbleness Steiner is talking about. Until we throw up our hands and say "I don't know!", are we not just re-enacting old patterns that created the situations we are trying to change?  Not knowing can be seen as a kind of weakness, but here Steiner says it's not sentimentality, but reality:  "We are not extolling something that might be called humbleness in one sense or another; we are describing a definite form of it—humbleness to whatever the future may bring.  Anyone who looks anxiously and fearfully towards the future hinders his development, hampers the free unfolding of his soul-forces."



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Loved this passage, thank you for sharing it, and Jerry for writing it. I recently went on a long walk, about 50 miles over a few days. Along the way I came across a diversity of situations, including many opportunities for sadness and reverence at misfortunate circumstances.  

One of those stories comes to mind: In the midst of a materially rich neighborhood, an older man stood in the meridian between two busy roads. He held a sign that read something like "anything helps" and had a forlorn yet somehow at-peace look on his face. I was intentionally traveling without money, so that wasn't an option to give, but another obvoius inspiration came to mind, which was to offer some grapefruits that I had earlier gleaned from a tree a few neighborhoods back.

From across the street, I made eye contact with the man and shouted across "do you like grapefruit?!" He didn't hear at first so my friend who was traveling with me pulled one out, held it up and pointed at it, smilingly, as I repeated "Do. You. Like. GRAPEFRUIT?" :)  The man understood in a flash, and smiled and nodded. At the next red light, my friend and I crossed the street and offered a few grapefruits to the grateful man. It was a heartfelt connection, just for a moment. We all knew it wasn't meant to solve any long-term problem there, but I sensed we all valued the human connection for that brief time.

But what struck me most was what happened just outside of our little interaction: as we scampered back across the street before traffic started to move again I caught a glimpse of the faces in the car windshields, waiting at the red light. This one woman in her car had the sweetest smile on her face that spoke of both sadness for the situation and happiness for whitnessing that moment of joy. I think more than the interaction itself, that whitnessing, that reverence touched me.

And what a beautiful closing line: "With inspiration rippling through the collective, the heart of the world grows unalterably stronger."

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What is sincerity? seemed to be a central question to the discussion.  I loved Somik's take on it, which I heard as basically: authenticity is manifesting your truth in each moment, and sincerity is what keeps that from harming others.

Pavi shared in her always-beautiful opening the latin etymology of the word 'sincere': without (sine) wax (cera), which apparently comes from sculptures, which if done right, did not need wax to cover up any mistakes. I love this idea that presenting ourselves sincerely is a practice of total openness and acceptance and needs no cover-up. 

Pavi also shared after the circle that in fact there has been a past ijourney passage on the very topic of sincerity and authenticity! (and a deep inquisition into the matter from literary critic Lionel Trilling, but I'll let her share about that :)) An excerpt

"Another way to approach this is to look at the huge difference between sincerity and authenticity. Sincerity, while it's lovely, is necessary but insufficient, because you can be sincere with just one zone of your heart awakened. When many zones of the heart are awakened and harmonized we can speak of authenticity, which is a broader and more complex notion."

For a simple amalgamation of authenticity and sincerity, my brother used to say to me when we were little: say what you mean, and mean what you say. Adding Somik's reflection above it might become: say what you mean, and mean what you say, but don't say it mean...ly.

What came to my mind during the circle was some wise words I once heard (from whom I can't remember): "You can't pretend to be more mature than you actually are." I heard this as encouragement to be just what we're talking about here: sincere and authentic -- and furthermore the subtle message that sometimes this doesn't mean shouting our truth from the rooftops, but rather, like those silent warriors that Nipun acknowledged, engaging in deep listening.

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I loved this passage. We're presented with these omnipresent challenges to staying present in everyday life -- and then left to figure out for ourselves how to counterbalance them! It's a wonderful implicit challenge. Of course we truly respond by the way we live, but it's fun to talk about it as well. :)

First, I think it's helpful to consider these words in the context of "early Christian Elders in the Egyptian desert." Unfortunately, the terms like "Christian" and "Jesus" have been so loaded with baggage by now that it becomes difficult to find the true value in them, amongst the noise. But this early Christianity which the author references was probably MUCH unlike most of what we see today. Before any institution called a church even existed. From reading the texts sometimes referred to as the "Gnostic Gospels" (ow.ly/1KOdg) we can surmise that these early Christian Elders were true seekers, looking within for wisdom, not to an external authority figure -- monks cultivating the contemplative solitude of monastic life. There we'll find mystical and powerful words attributed to Jesus: "If you bring forth what is within you, what is within you will save you; if you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you." In effect: know yourself (more on that later). Elaine Pagels has done excellent historical research into this long-lost chapter of early Christianity, and Tucker Malarkey  wrote a wonderful historical fiction novel called "Resurrection" that tells the riveting story of the unexpected discovery in mid 1900s of the early Christian texts in Nag Hammadi, Egypt, and the quest to share them with the world.

With that in mind, it may at first seem less than relevant to apply these teachings to our modern day, hustle and bustle life. But looking deeper, we can each see the seeker within us and recognize the wisdom of identifying these three blockages -- anger, laziness, lust -- to staying present as we progress on our path.

There were some wonderful reflections in the circle this Wednesday. Neil opened with thoughts on the many other obstacles to presence! :) -- while noting their impermanent nature :) -- and held wonderful space for the rest of the circle, including a touching mother's day reflection to close. Around the circle, a gentleman shared a wonderful image of an open mind as an open sky, to which Steve later poetically painted on passing clouds of emotion; Pancho offered his perspective on the "most powerful force" of ahimsa, or nonviolence; another gentleman shared a great insight that to enter into these states of mind in front of others we must first have a feeling of superiority over whomever may be in our present company ... Amidst reflections on when anger, for example, might be appropriate, Ripa reminded us of the wonderful saying: "between suppression and expression lies observation." Some say depression is anger turned inward, and along those lines, Aumatma recounted a time when one of her patients began feeling angry for the first time in while and her recognizing that as a step along the healing path; Ayush complemented that nicely, musing on the need for balance and knowing when to step into anger and when to come back out. Auntie and Uncle blessed us, as always, with peaceful, wise words and of course, the gift of the opportunity to share our journeys in this sacred way. I loved Auntie's final reflection: "I noticed that simply sitting still can be a remedy to each of these three forces." 

Finally, I mentioned the implicit challenge in this passage to come up with our own responses to these three great forces of anger, lust and laziness, and in that spirit I will offer what came to my mind. And as a preface, let me gratefully acknowledge the numerous perspectives that were offered last night in favor of honoring our beautifully imperfect humanity, which means we need not be dogmatic or holier-than-though (superior ;)) in addressing these very normal phenomena....

For laziness, live your gift. Laziness implies a lack of motivation to do something. Last night I shared that of all the four types of external motivators, positive rewards are most effective (negative rewards, positive punishers, and negative punishers being the other three), so find your own best positive reward of living a meaningful life. But I'll take it a step further here: to counterbalance laziness at the root, go beyond external motivators and find your own intrinsic motivation. (with a hat tip to Alfie Kohn: ow.ly/1KObn) This requires deeply knowing oneself, and this is what leads us to the true gifts that we have to offer. That which brings us most alive; that which is in abundance for us, and offering it to another loses us nothing but only enriches both lives. Nipun shared a great quote from his recent trip to Japan: "The purpose of life is to discover your gift; the meaning of life is to give your gift away." At that point, perhaps the joy of giving your gift away beats out the lure of laziness. :)

For anger, awareness. As we mentioned in the circle, anger is often vilified as a "bad" emotion, but it comes up in all of us at one point or another, and how can we pre-judge its purpose? As we also pointed out, becoming consumed in anger does not serve anyone. Awareness will always serve us when anger is arising, and keep us rooted in the unfolding present. As Ripa was also sharing: what does anger feel like on my body? Why is it arising now? These are questions that have subtler and subtler answers that will aid us in knowing ourselves. And to complete the counter-balance of awareness, I would add in a healthy does of acceptance. :) If we do not accept what is, we are stuck with it, but once we accept, we can begin to move and flow with it.

And last but not least :) for lust, impermanence. Lust is an interesting word to use here, and has a very Buddhist ring to it -- attachment to something that is not present. Craving for what is not yet our organic reality. So let's counterbalance with a quintessential teaching of Gautama Buddha: anicca, impermanence, or the ever-changing nature of all things. With that, let me thank you for your attention, and pass. :)

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