Personal Spiritual Responsibility in the Face of Hopelessness

Mother Theresa, when questioned as to why she refused to support or attend an anti-war rally, replied something to the effect of “I would be happy to attend and support a peace rally.”

It seems only natural, when overwhelmed by an ever increasing list of seemingly hopeless regional and global threats, many of which threaten human mass extinction, to deny the very existence of their reality. These doomsday scenarios are too numerous and awful to contemplate. My common inner dialogue goes something like ...

“If there is nothing I can do about it—why let it occupy my attention, my consciousness?" Or … “If life is going to end, and there is nothing I can do to change the inevitability, then why not just ignore the probabilities and find whatever happiness I can while I still have a life.”

My inner dialogues and resulting choices seem logical. Then, why don’t I feel at peace with my decision to ignore the endless assortment of cataclysmic scenarios (of which I can do nothing about to alter the course of inevitable destiny) and go about my life, carelessly skipping down the road of life? Perhaps, after a little introspection, I discover that my unease may be due to false self conclusions … Is there really nothing I can do?

My entire life has been a spiritual quest. Over many years of painful self discovery, I have formed a set of beliefs. I believe that I do have control over my own destiny and that of the world around me and that control begins with my personal attitude, perspective and expectations of the events surrounding me. I believe that whatever it is that I focus on, with my mind, heart and spirit—will manifest into reality. I believe in the Law of Attraction. I believe that one person can make a difference, that one candle can ignite millions, if the flame contains truth. I believe in the Power of One and the Ripple Effect of Intention. I believe that we are all powerful—that we have simply lost touch with our strengths and abilities to alter the world that we are a part of … feeling overwhelmed and dis-empowered with the complexity and seriousness of the threats. I have personally experienced this effect in my life. I have forgotten what I had learned.

10 years ago, plagued with the very same emotions, suffering from depression and disillusionment birthed from years of self seeking, I felt overwhelmed and apathetic as to my role in this world. I had an attitude of “Why bother, the problems are too numerous and too big to do anything about. I care, but there is nothing I can do.” These feelings of helplessness and hopelessness as well as the crushing emptiness of life’s purpose and meaning led me to some drastic decisions. I had to do something, anything … I needed to try, again.

I chose to embark on a three year sabbatical, a spiritual quest, a walk across America, in hopes of finding meaning and purpose for my life. I needed to prove, to myself, that I, little insignificant me, could still make a difference in my world. So many deserving causes … I chose pediatric Aids. Through a series of events, these children captured my heart.

Over the next three years, I devoted myself to concerns outside of myself, to see, if I could make a difference. I did, in the lives of many. What started with one small flame of intention grew into a bonfire of positive effect for thousands of people. More importantly, I re-discovered my personal, spiritual power. I could not change the world—but I could change myself. I could do what I could do and if others chose to light their wicks from my flame—so be it. If not, I could feel the immense soul satisfaction of feeling a part of my world. This morning, I realized that I had forgotten what I had learned.

What had I learned over three years and 5200 miles of walking across this country? I learned of the Power of One. I had learned of the ripple effect. I had learned of my personal spiritual power … the power of truth. I had forgotten. I am now remembering.

Now, as I look around my world, I have no fear. I have realized, thank God, that I am NOT powerless, that I can effect the world around me. How? I don’t need to walk across the country to prove anything to myself or crusade in the name of countless injustices. I can, however, use what I have, this morning … a laptop computer, a blog and my life’s lessons and share them honestly and openly. This is my flame. I have the power to light my candle. I will do my part as I Am a part of my world, starting with the immense power of my intentions.

I learned of the immense transforming power of one pebble, one pointed intention, if resonating with sincerity, can cause ripples of movement that can literally change the world. I had forgotten. Now, I remember. I remember Gandhi, Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King and countless others that acted on the courage of their convictions to follow their hearts and do what they could do. I remember Mother Theresa’s lesson that shows me that I Can focus my personal attention and efforts toward the desired outcome and not focus on the problem. I realize that whatever I resist, persists.

This is my flame, my daily positive affirmations and peaceful meditations which lead to personal decisions, choices and often physical actions, in doing my part. This is my contribution, for today.

What happened to my little boy?

Major life changes
seem to happen suddenly and dramatically, yet looking back, they were creeping up on me slowly and then one day, some event happens that snaps me back into reality. Today, I experienced a major life change that has been coming for 21 years.

A few minutes ago, my son left home. Alex has left home before. In fact, he left for college two years ago, but this morning, it feels as if he is really gone. Standing on my toes, holding tightly to my little boy, holding back the tears, wondering when did he get so damned tall.

How did he become a man, so quickly, right in front of my eyes.

He seemed so grown up as he responsibly packed his belongings into the car. That was always my job. I was always the one that had to nag him endlessly to get out of bed. I was the one that had to scour the house for all the things he had scattered around. I was the one that was responsible, for him.

As I watch his car drive up the driveway, on his way back to Montana, to his third year of college, I suddenly feel so old and alone.

How many times had we driven off, together? So many times! We were inseparable, my boy and me. Yet now, I watch him drive away and he's not coming back. I feel loneliness unlike any I have ever felt before, a deeper more permanent loneliness. I sense this is one of those sudden moments that I will always remember, one of those moments that will mark a major life change. Somehow, I know, I just know that life will never be the same again. This chapter is over.

Honor student - clean cut, responsible, loving and caring, I couldn't be more proud of my son, and happy, for him. So many years of endless worry and sleepless nights, bailing him out, protecting him, tied to the hip, best friends, yet this morning I watch my little boy as he drives away, a man. A turning point? So many mixed feelings. My instinct is to run down the road, chase him down, hold him and stop time. Yet, it's time, probably later than it should have been - it's time to let him go.

Funny, in our culture, men are rarely associated with 'empty nest syndrome,' yet here I sit, crying, as I release my hold, on my boy. He has been my world. He has been my life. Of course, my intellect assures me that he is not gone, that our relationship is just changing, but my heart fails to grasp the logic of this mental argument.

With any loss, there is always an opening, for something new. How do I fill this hole, this emptiness? Guess an inventory might help. I've always made an inventory, when undergoing a major life change - take stock of what I have left to work with and build from where I am. As I sit, numb, it feels as if there is nothing on the list to work with.

The world seems different this morning. It feels cold and empty. I feel as if a part of me is missing. A big part of me, IS missing.

I go about doing what it is that I do, yet it feels as if someone else is doing it. What happened to me? When did I lose myself? I guess it is natural to lose sight of yourself when you focus your life on the needs of another, for so long it becomes a habit. "I'll take care of me, later, after _______" ... it's always something. Good or bad - doesn't really matter, it's still a loss - a major loss. When did I forget to be me and become us? How do I become me, again?

My mind wants an answer, a solution, now! Guess being a guy, that's my nature. I sense there will be no quick-fix to this dilemna. This is going to be one of those long growth things ... God, I hate those, but they always seem, when looking back after all the pain of the change, to be the deepest and most meaningful.

Tonight, perhaps even this afternoon, my cell phone will ring. I know he'll call - he always does, yet it's never the same, talking on a phone.

'Hey Pops, how ya doin? The weather's fine - the road is clear - we're having a blast, chomping on some burgers and running down the road, just like WE used to.

I miss ya Pops. I mean, I really MISS you Pops."

He's gone and this time, it feels so permanent, as it should be, as it has been for thousands of years for millions of parents and millions of children, grown. I try and reassure him that it's OK., that we'll make many more memories, great memories, but I know, inside, that they will never be the same.

My boy is living his life, making decisions, embarking on his grand adventure. Maybe that has something to do with my feeling so old - the memories of a boy, his dad, as he excitedly drove away, free at last, to begin decades of adventures - to live his life. And those decades are just memories now, some fond and many I'd just as well forget.

Oh sure, there will be more memories, good memories from grand new adventures, yet my mind can't help to flash to images of me, riding quietly in the back of their car, with the grandkids, as they politely put up with grandpa, dealing with me, just like I dealt with him, like a child. This is the way it is and always has been. Better get used to it.

No, I sense life will never be the same again, as it should be. Just wish it didn't hurt so bad.

JOY ... An Interesting Side Effect

Four months now ... free of the crippling symptoms of depression and anxiety, I am realizing an incredible side effect of sanity - Joy!

Being born again, or for that matter - being born, has resulted in a newly emerging realization ... that I can simply be, and be-ing is enough. More than enough. Many people might find this ridiculous, as I suppose most people already realize this. This has not been my life reality and it is nothing less than a miracle, for me.

Suffering from overwhelming depression and anxiety resulting in low self esteem, has fueled a life long struggle for 'normalcy.' I never felt like I was enough, feeling empty and dissapointed, regardless of the grandeur of my latest attempt to find some measure of personal esteem. After each Grand Adventure, after in inevitable let-down, eventually I would find the strength to re-double my efforts aimed at the next scheme, always resulting in the void of inadequacy.

Finally, after so many years of struggling, losing all hope - I was set free. I had found a solution to life-long depression. For the past four months, I have nevously charted my daily moods, waiting for the other shoe to drop - waiting for the choking black fog to smother the life out of me, again. This has not happened. I have been set free. I am so grateful for my new life.

In my daily journaling, I have discovered a fascinating side effect of my new freedom - Joy! Perhaps similar to the often reported rebirth of spirit from those surviving a near death experience, I have been given an entirely new perspective, an awakening of sorts. It is as if I had been blind since birth and this new light of life, often uncomfortably bright, offers up to me, a world previously gone unnoticed, unnapreciated. I had been totally unconscious - asleep.

Each new day, I awaken, in awe, of the beauty that surrounds me, amazed at the depth and abundance of life. No longer am I bound to endless projects, desperate pursuits for meaning and personal value. I am discovering that I Am Enough and always have been. I am discovering the immense satisfaction derived from the freedom of endless action as the means to an impossible end.

Today I am free to smell the roses and do so, constantly. Today, I find great joy in the previously invisble vibrancy of life, the richness of sight, sound and touch that surrounds me. My days are long and happy and joyous, success lying in the actual be-ing of each precious moment. Finally, I Am Enough. Thank You God.