The Best We Can Hope For

Each day I spend two hours on the road commuting to and from work. In order to make the most of this otherwise lost time I became a premium listener at Audible.com and started downloading audiobooks to playback during the drive. I prefer a good, suspense-filled mystery, the kind of book where just about the time you think you have things figured out there's an unexpected twist. Recently, however, I took a break from the genre to give a couple of self-help titles a try.

As I listened to some of the acclaimed gurus of motivation and pop psychology, my listening habits began to change. I discovered the pause button and became a more interactive listener, taking whatever time I wished to let what I'm hearing filter through my own thoughts and experience.

Among the several worthy pearls of wisdom I've embraced is a personal favorite, Wayne Dyer's charge to not die with your music still in you from which I derived my own personal mantra, "the soul is an endless song; life is but its dance." There is, however, a common theme running through these works that I'm not sure I buy into. Each seems in its own way to present the world or universe as an endless font of wealth and abundance from which, if I maintain the right attitude or play my cards right, I can tap into or draw from whenever I sense the need. Further, following the law of karma, I can virtually be assured that "only goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life."

I'll admit that in a world of broken, disconnected and empty people, such a message will be extremely appealing and, quite frankly, will sell books and fill lecture halls. But I see an inherent flaw in that the world or universe is not merely a "thing" from which I can take or expect that that which I desire will fall in my lap as I would have it. The world or universe is also 'being," a life being lived in time even if the time frame far surpasses my own. If I hold that the universe is merely a wellspring of energy from which I can rape or rob to acquire what I want or need, then I am embracing a principle that would equally apply to me or any other living being. Is my purpose, or that of anyone else for that matter, merely to hang out so that folks can take from me whatever they please?

If indeed I am a spiritual being having a human experience, then I must tread gently along this sojourn called life. The universe doesn't revolve around me or exist to supply my needs. It is itself being, like me a traveler in search of it's self and purpose. I must dwell at peace and in harmony with her. Misuse, disrespect and natural disaster bring want, loss and brokenness to her just as they would to me.

This universe therefore is not my endless source of abundance. I stand to gain the most when I befriend her and peacefully coexist with her. Perhaps nowhere is this truth more cherished than in native american spirituality.

To illustrate, imagine a swimmer in trouble. For most, panic will set in motion the frantic kicking of the arms and legs in an attempt to stay afloat. For me this symbolizes our attempt to grab what we need from the world about us. Yet it is precisely this desperation that leads to the very fate instinct is trying to avoid, for the swimmer will surely fatigue. Energy spent, the swimmer will eventually surrender to the sea. Had the swimmer instead chosen to be at peace and in harmony with the water, he could have remained afloat quite effortlessly and tirelessly; perhaps even quite naturally given that life begins in the water of a mother's womb.

So sorry gurus of self-help. You have it all wrong here! There is no formula or magic that can guarantee a life without want, loss or brokenness. But we can find comfort, safety and survival in simply living at peace and in harmony with the universe.

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