Pardigm shift

Imagine a Better World

(rerun from February 2, 2010)
Over the dim roar of the newsroom, running feverishly on deadline, I heard the phone ring, followed by the editor's attentive silence. I looked over, caught his wrinkled brow and waited. He glanced back with an expression I knew all too well. There's a kind of coach - team rapport among editors and reporters. On this particular morning, that relationship was going to change my life forever, not in a big dramatic way, rather as a subtle awareness that would open a door through which I would never return.

The day after Christmas was often bleak, even dismal, in the declining old industrial city, with its weary store fronts, various bars, lower income housing dating back a century or more. It had a kind of morning-after feeling to it, that had spilled into the streets from the holiday before. A rancid silence hung in the air as I drove past empty liquor bottles, an occasional McDonald's bag, cigarette boxes and butts on my way into the police station at 5:30 a.m.

It was the beginning of a typical day at the paper. After the usual, perfunctory chat with the officer at the counter, I was ushered into the inner sanctum to gather the police reports from the night and day before, Christmas Day.

I wrote down all the details from the day's and night's activities. Since reporters are no stranger to humanity's depravity, especially depravity from binging on alcohol and drugs, too prevalent in decaying old cities,  I wasn't particularly alarmed or really even interested in the low-level behavior of the town over the holiday weekend.

I turned away from my editor's phone conversation and returned to writing up the usual police blog. It's easy when you don't care.

When my desk phone rang from an inside line, I looked over as my editor nodded to me to answer my phone.

"Can you take this call? This guy's pretty upset. He says he got arrested last night for a domestic and he doesn't want it to go in the paper," my editor said, with a slight, only barely distinguishable hint of concern in his voice.

"I have the reports from last night here. Do you know which guy he is? There's a lot of them," I said, wincing at the thought of what I was going to have to deal with.

"I think he's the guy who smashed in his wife's car with his fist," he said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I got it. I'll talk to him," I said, as my editor backed out of the call leaving a very distraught middle-aged sounding man on the line.

In the course of that conversation, some of which my editor listened in on from across the newsroom, I went from complete apathy to a deep concern for this man's plight: alcoholism, possible mental illness and probable domestic violence. He didn't beat his wife, only threatened her and was possessive and jealous. I didn't know how to deal with this angry, sad man. I felt completely at a loss. He begged me not to run the incident from the night before. He didn't hurt anyone and it was too embarrassing to have his friends, and the other guys at the local VFW Post, see what had happened. I put him on hold and went over to my editor.

"Is it possible to not run what happened?" I asked him.

"No," he said, unequivocally.

"Do you think we could make an exception just this one time?" I heard myself pleading, unaware that I'd picked up the caller's cause and wanted to run with it for him.

"Sorry. No. We can't. I get calls like this all the time and if I did it for him, we would have to do it for everyone, and that's not journalism. Journalism is telling what happened regardless of how remorseful people feel after the fact."

I really heard that. He was right.

I went back to my desk. As I told the caller I had to run the story, he began to cry, sobbing, and then my heart broke for him. This man was so broken, so low, in so much despair that he was begging a reporter at a small daily newspaper in a very dismal town not to tell his story. I wanted to just accidentally leave him out of the blog, but I had to run it. It was not my problem.

A few minutes later, my editor looked over at me again, must have seen my drawn face, and came back over.

"You can't weep with 'em," he said. "Tell him that you have to go. We've got a paper to get out this morning."

For days, I reflected on that man's sorry existence. While I wished I could help him, I couldn't. Even then, I knew he had to help himself.

That man's cry still rings in my heart. He was the voice of humanity, regretting his choices from a less lucid state the day or night before. The entire human race is sobbing in a kind of perpetual state of despair, without any hope, living in what has become one big, corrupt, dismal old town. Where is our hope?

I know now that we can change our lives and our world simply through our will to change our thoughts and words. We can take a small, dark, broken life and become a lighthouse of vibrational energy and love for our own lives and those all around us. We have the power to live our lives as large and as beautiful as we choose. We can also, alternatively, focus on the small, dark, nasty things that happen in the world. It is as simple as a matter of choice. We can stop and think about what we're thinking about. We can stop the madness and think differently. Each time we choose to look up, pray for, wait for and expect help, it will be given to us.

Help comes when we ask for help, especially when we ask for the help to change our small, dim lives of pettiness or not let our anger take control of us, or think or speak negatively about a neighbor, engage in gossip, or even focus generally on the negative rather than the positive, bright and creative.

We can also choose to stop worrying and thinking about what we don't want to have happen and consider what we do want to happen, ask for it and then have trust and have faith that love is all around us and we can have what we want. We completely flip our minds around, from hell to heaven, when we think about what we do want, about what is beautiful in another human being, and realize that any act of violence or hate is only a cry for more love. Love stops violence and brokenness; defensive rage only propagates it.

Hate and violence are weaker customers than love and creativity. By raising your own spiritual vibration by thinking and speaking positively, you strengthen your mind where the disease of negativity cannot thrive, and you magnetically attract into your life positive, loving and creative events and friends. And, just in case you don't believe me. Try it. Try it for just one week as an experiment and see what happens.

What if we did that? What if every time someone said something unkind, you realized instead that they were asking you for love, then you wouldn't react to them. Instead, you'd respond to them with kindness, compassion, even forgiveness.

I believe we can choose to care, to look at what is beautiful and bright, healing, hopeful, noble and dignified. We can choose to be kind, to reel in our tempers, disappointments and hurts. I don't mean not to feel them. I mean not to give them the power to bring us down. It may be the hardest thing some of us will ever do. But, we must. To find deep within ourselves the light of our divinity, is to get up out of the gutter, turn off the nightly news, put down the evening newspaper, and listen to what is beautiful.

Imagine a better world. Whenever you can, at every chance, when you meet someone, speak kindly, send them joy and love in just a smile, with a positive intention. That man back at the News could have turned his life around. I'll never know if he did, but his misery can be a lesson for our abounding joy.

I believe we can evolve into noble beings of light, of immeasurable value, so greatly loved, if we would only try. Our Creator loves us and waits for us to receive His love and live in the sunshine of that love, allowing it to heal our lonely hearts, and make us the magnificent beings we were always meant to be and restore our Earth home into a paradise.The choice is simply ours. I believe we can do this. I believe in us.

Journey into the Night

"The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; 

on those living in the land of the shadow of death 

a light has dawned." 

Isaiah 9:2 (New International Version)

The darkness of these days is becoming increasingly more evident even to the least observant person.  As the spiritual journey goes, one must enter into a "dark night of the soul," before emerging into the light of spiritual consciousness.  This is true for the individual, and now - as is obvious to many of us - is true for the collective, the world. 


The very earliest church knew this and made this truth first and foremost among all the other truths Jesus would teach.  The "birth of Christ" occurs at night, set in the darkest period of the year and seen first by the poorest of the poor.  The mythic dimension of the story can be unraveled to discuss the birth occurring to a virgin. While I truly believe the Blessed Mother was a virgin, a virgin soul is one who has no darkness within, whose inner hidden brokenness has been repented of, healed, cleansed, purified (made holy) and can give birth to the true self, that child within who will lead us into the eternal light of life, immortality. The Christ is within all of us - not just Christians.  It is the ultimate truth of our a priori condition as human (divine) beings.


In order to emerge from that dark night, washed and born anew (as in "the old has passed away") as spiritual beings, equipped with the gifts of the spirit, conscious and aware, fully alive in our beloved relationship with God (Divine Father/Mother) we must die to the world after a long sojourn in the desert, into the darkest parts of our soul. Even the Jewish Exodus story is a reflection of this deeper, more eternally real spiritual journey from slavery, through darkness and despair, into an internal spiritual promised land. While it actually happened, it's eternal application is on a mythic dimension.


Those who argue for the historical authenticity of the Christmas story in a search of the historical Jesus will miss the message.  This is not meant as a historical record.  It is a spiritually eternal truth buried in a parabolic story, and yet, I truly believe it was real and historically true as well. 


These hard economic times may be an outward expression of our collective inward reality.  They mirror the poverty and darkness of our collective cultural soul which Mother Teresa called  a "culture of death" in which our externally-directed consciousness that once sought after wealth, even at the expense of our souls, now reveals a spiritually dying world.  


There is another scripture in which Jesus says that which is hidden in the dark will be revealed or uncovered and made visible in the light.  This isn't to condemn us.  It is for us to see who we have become, or rather to see who we are so we can alter our paths.  It is an invitation to change, to transform our consciousness from being focused on material gain to being focused on what is real and lasting, which is the eternal soul both individually and collectively. The early church called this altering of our path, this call to change, "metanoia," or more commonly called "repentance."  Try to hear this call to repentance in the voice of a gentle mother who truly, dearly loves you and wants to guide you into safety and growth.


As in that first century, today the poor are among us, perhaps more so than we ever realized. I once knew a beautiful Maryknoll missionary priest who worked with the poor in Rio de Janiero, Brazil, who remarked that in America the poor kept out of sight - in inner cities while the wealthy moved further away into rich rambling suburbs, bordered by sprawling malls.  In Rio, he said, the poor are everywhere in sight, often attending the same churches on Sunday as the wealthy.  There they can't be ignored nor are they invisible.  


Maybe we're all aware the times are changing.  Maybe we're all aware that everything as we knew it, is radically fading into the background of time, while something new and unsure is emerging on the landscape of our collective consciousness here and throughout the world.  


Maybe we're also in denial, hoping to beat the prevailing hurricane of economic decline and eventually get that great job, make enough money to buy a bigger house, send the kids to a top notch college - all dreams of that fast fading old paradigm of American life. Maybe we don't want to see the old pass away. Maybe we don't know how to understand this shift in the ages, this shift out of a material age into a spiritual age.

Some of us can smell the smoke of a distant fire. Things are never going to be the same. Somehow we know it.  The economists are predicting a "double dip" to this unending recession. I have no clue what that means.  I've asked those who know about the economy and even they don't know what it means, really. It feels totally useless to even try to succeed by the old standards.  

Here in rural Oregon, the poor are more visible than in the larger cities.  Lately, I've seen many people in the early morning heading - not to work or waiting at red lights in their Mercedes as in more prosperous times - out onto the streets with old blankets rolled up on their backpacks, dirty hair, some with toothless smiles, wearing old clothes - headed to the nearest coffee shop or food kitchen.  As others might arrive at work, they find their usual street corner, pitch their backpacks - some even with their dogs - and hold up their cardboard signs asking for donations. Their work day has begun.

Maybe these precious souls are the silent voice of these changing times.  I can't help thinking that even Jesus might not be a success by today's standards.  His radical spirituality would not have been embraced by the church and certainly His refusal to sell out for a buck wouldn't have made Him a golden boy in the corporate heirarchy of greed and exploitation at the expense of the innocent consumer.  In areas of America, like these in rural Oregon, where there is no industry, downward mobility has almost become a cultural accessory to a pre-existing counter-cultural millieu.  


All these folks remember warm beds, food on the table, hopes for a good job and a productive, creative career.  As you know, the reduction of a middle class forced a large percentage of middle class into abject poverty.  They have - with what little dignity they had left mixed with their instinct to survive and creative aculturation - created a village down by the creek where tents line the creek which winds out of town for miles.


These precious souls are both symptomatic of the changing times and archetypal of who we really are spiritually.  That which was hidden is coming into view.  We were - and still are - spiritually poor - as Jesus says in the Gospel of Thomas.  This deep inner spiritual poverty has been a cultural cancer growing in our collective soul for a long time and now it is evident on the streets, in the inner cities, in the growing unemployment rates, in Europe's struggle to remain economically solvent. 


Those folks who walk among us in the predawn darkness, who've packed up their tents and blankets to emerge from the creek beds they call home, may be like those to whom He came in the first century.  Like the shepherds who first saw the star, they may be able to see many stars at night and may again be the first to meet Him in their own agony, in their emptiness and in their longing. They've at least cleared the way to embrace the spiritual journey, which may lead them to the star within which points them closer to the Christ light.

Today, Americas corporate crimes against our people is headlines and the poorest, the outcast - those literally cast out of their homes -  are those who are seeing the light of Christ within their hearts and minds first.  For them, there are no more illusions, the bubble has burst, and they are face-to-face with their own inner selves, tormented perhaps by the haunting voices of those who oppressed and formerly controlled them, and now out there to see the night stars and be reminded of the one true light that is constant within them. For them the light has come as has spiritual rebirth.  They will make the way for the new paradigm.


"According to U.S. Census Bureau data released the nation's poverty rate rose to 15.1% (46.2 million) in 2010, up from 14.3% (approximately 43.6 million) in 2009 and to its highest level since 1993. In 2008, 13.2% (39.8 million) Americans lived in relative poverty."*


I don't believe you have to hit this kind of terrible bottom to realize that the great illusion is cracking open.  I also don't believe that you have to become this bitterly poor to encounter Christ who lives within your own soul as a pearl of great price. But when the layers of American life are peeled away, it seems there is nothing else to block your vision - and now you don't seem to be able to pull the mask back on in order to live among the sleeping many who control and manipulate the world's grid. 


Someone once said that if Jesus were to be found in our world today, He would be found among the homeless.  If that's the case, then I would look for Him there. And He may be there in a very real spiritual sense.  He may be with the poor because He is all they have - unless they've managed to spare their food stamps for some meth or booze.  But, even among those, He is with them.  They are in the midst of their dark nights. Although they may still be asleep in their poverty, they are not swinging from corporate American trees squeezing yet another dollar from the poor through innovative clever marketing schemes.  They've surrendered to what is coming and may even be better prepared for the next economic shock wave that may wash upon our shores.


St. Theresa of Avila, St. John of the Cross, Julian of Norwich, Meister Eckhart, Sr. Francis and Clare of Assisi, among the many mystic voices who have gone before us, have all warned us of the perils of excessive materialism. They urge us to remove the masks of our culture of death and let go of our attachment to anything other than the light of God within.  This detaching and stripping of our artificial identities is the beginning of the journey to God and  to our real selves within.  This ancient message has always been externally ritualized as the Church's celebration of "Advent."  


Their guidance  applies today as much as ever as it crisscrosses all countries, cultures and religions. The mystics may represent the wisdom of western culture.  The East and Middle East have their wise men and women, who also sought and found the light in the dark cave within, where the light of heaven would be found in the discovery of that inner child, that Holy Child, who resides even deeper within your own authentic self.


Poverty isn't for everyone.  It may be only for those courageous enough not to, or are unwilling to,  or are just unable to, play by the rules of this quickly dissolving, transforming and reenvisioning of itself, hi-tech world.  If you're lucky, you may find yourself among them in so many different ways and interpretations of "poverty."  We all will experience this "dark night," in some form.  Usually it shows up discreetly, vaguely and through prayer you will discover that it is the nudging of an invisible Other who is lovingly leading you into a greater reality - Your true self which is the narrow gate, the stargate, into ultimate reality.  


But, for now the journey continues, pulling us in both directions until finally God wins and we find ourselves on our knees deep within the inner cave, before the light of lights, face to face with the truth - the timeless truth - that only God is real and God's love is the energetic creative force that still runs the universe.




Sources:


"Revised Government Formula Shows New Poverty High:  49.1 Million." Yahoo! News. November 7, 2011


"Poverty Rate Hits 15 Year High." Reuters. September 17, 2010

Symptoms of Inner Peace

The following is from Carly who is a most peaceful woman of the light.  Thank you for sharing this.  It's perfect for this season of anticipation of the birth of light who brings us that real and lasting inner peace.

Be on the lookout for symptoms of inner peace. The hearts of a great many have already been exposed to inner peace and it is possible that people everywhere could come down with it in epidemic proportions. This could pose a serious threat to what has, up to now, been a fairly stable condition of conflict in the world.

Some signs and symptoms of inner peace:

• A tendency to think and act spontaneously rather than on fears based on past experiences.
• An unmistakable ability to enjoy each moment.
• A loss of interest in judging other people.
• A loss of interest in interpreting the actions of others.
• A loss of interest in conflict.
• A loss of the ability to worry. (This is a very serious symptom).
• Frequent, overwhelming episodes of appreciation.
• Contented feelings of connectedness with others and nature.
• Frequent attacks of smiling.
• An increasing tendency to let things happen rather than make them happen.
• An increased susceptibility to the love extended by others as well as the uncontrollable urge to extend it.

A Christmas Story (music by Enya)

Inside the Cosmic Pearl

Hildegard de Bingen (1098-1179)

I, the fiery life of divine wisdom,

I ignite the beauty of the plains,

I sparkle the waters,

I burn in the sun, and the moon, and the stars.

With wisdom I order all rightly.

I adorn all the earth.

I am the breeze that nurtures all things green.

I am the rain coming from the dew

that causes the grasses to laugh with the joy of life.

I call forth tears, the aroma of holy work.

I am the yearning for good.

Art: http://irupert.com/HILDEGRD/hildegard.htm

Verses:

Gabriele Uhlein,  Meditations with Hildegard de Bingen (Bear & Co., 1983) 

Matthew Fox, The Coming of the Cosmic Christ (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988) p. 110.