Ever Forward

Here’s more from the TED conference given by William McDonough:

“Our culture tortures itself now, with tyrannies and concerns over limits and fear, but we can add this other dimension of abundance.”

These “tyrannies and concerns over limits and fear” infest everything. All our systems, from the family to the nation, all our relationships, our work, our hopes and dreams, even our vacations (watch for it, it’s there.) In the end they lead to a culture of fear. The good news is, these tyrannies are not found in the primordial condition. They are a response to it. The bad news is, to change them we have to enter the primordial condition, and that’s where our real, basic fears and insecurities live.

These fears and insecurities (among other forces) give rise to the social tyrannies and fear-based responses to existence, like bugs in the operating system, monsters in the primordial condition. They color our perspective and give energy to our responses, so that our default setting is to assume and plan for the worst. We spend huge amounts of energy trying to avoid the feelings that exist our primordial condition. We make customs designed to keep those feelings at a distance. Humans build whole societies on this, and while it seems to serve a constructive purpose, it also fuels wars and criminal actions of all kinds.

And it totally ignores, or worse—rejects—the abundance that is all around us. Imagine a world where the default human setting was to assume the very best will happen, and to plan for it.

The tyrannies infest daily life in tiny little ways. Here’s an example: the social revulsion against telling someone they have hurt your feelings. The practice of telling people how you feel when they hurt you is not wrong. It’s difficult, and so we call it wrong so we don’t have to do it. Some people say it’s wrong, that it’s “socially unacceptable.” Those people are wrong. That attitude is dysfunctional. The bottom line is we call it wrong because we are afraid of it. It’s a collective response to a fear that exists in the primordial condition.

And it’s not just a matter of opinion, or a different way of living. Here’s how I know: to call it wrong or socially unacceptable is to stifle communication. If it stifles communication, it’s dysfunctional. If it stifles communication, it hinders relationship. If it hinders relationship, it’s wrong, because relationship is why we’re here. Imagine a world where we felt fear at the prospect of NOT communicating our feelings.

But you can find out for yourself that the real motive behind this social norm is fear of the feelings it keeps buried. Just one try shows you how hard it is to tell someone, “Hey, that hurt my feelings,” or, “Hey, I didn’t like that remark.” I don’t mean shouting or getting in someone’s face. I mean respectfully, courteously explaining yourself. Try it. I guarantee you hold back. And I further guarantee you hold back not because it’s wrong, but because it’s scary. It makes you feel awkward and it makes the other person feel awkward, too. And that’s the reason we call it wrong, or insignificant, or silly.

Try it. Go on, I dare you. And be honest with yourself about what you discover. What you’re looking at is the road that leads to your utter-self, the self you dream of when no one’s looking.

Ever forward.

Recently I listened to a talk given by William McDonough to the TED forum. It’s listed on the Inspiring Videos page on this blog, and it’s called The Wisdom of Designing Cradle to Cradle.

McDonough is a designer and his talk focuses on design principles conducive to a sustainable future. But he makes a great point that can be applied to emotional growth and the expansion of consciousness:

“As we look back at the basic state of affairs in which we design, we in a way need to go the primordial condition to understand the operating system and the frame conditions of the planet.”

Each of us has a primordial condition, an operating system, frame conditions. These things hold vital information that can explain why I fail, why I succeed, why I get angry under certain circumstances. Understanding these things can tell me a lot about what makes me feel threatened or secure. They are always there, under the surface, contributing energy to my responses and color to my perceptions. In order to effectively manage the details on the surface of my life, I have to understand the deeps.

Personal computer software provides a very useful metaphor for understanding this. You’ve got your operating system and you’ve got your applications. The applications are how I act, think, and speak in the day-to-day. It’s my relationships, my creative endeavors, my work, etc. The operating system is the underpinning on which the applications are placed. It gives my applications access to the computer’s memory and processors. It enables the applications to function.

Or not.

Photoshop can’t paint a pretty picture, however desperate I might be for my picture to look prettier, if the operating system is flawed or incompatible.

Here’s another angle: the operating system is universal, the applications are local. You use Word to write a novel; Word is local. You use Excel to track expenses; Excel is local. But the operating system is always there, influencing that local experience. The operating system is universal. It affects how I deal with local circumstances.

A broken operating system can’t fix itself, not even OSX. It can’t even understand itself. But I can. I can look under the hood and find out what needs to change in my operating system to make my applications function properly. I can influence my own universal influencer because in the end, I’m something far greater than even my own primordial condition.

But only if I choose to be.

Ever forward.

Recently I watched a film about the life of Joy Division frontman Ian Curtis. It’s called Control, and I recommend it. In the previews that come before the film, there’s a trailer for a film called Joy Division, which features producers and members of the band. Someone in that line up says something to the effect of:

“Most bands rehearsed and played because they wanted to be rock stars. Joy Division did it because they had no choice.”

When you listen to Joy Division, it’s clear they had something nobody else had at the time, or has had since. They were one of those unique, unrepeatable moments in music.

So I listened to one of their songs recently. It’s called Autosuggestion. It seems to reflect the feeling a lot of people have, the horribly limiting sense that the world consists of preexisting grooves from which we each must choose, regardless of our creative impulse. Here’s how Curtis puts it:

“Here, everything is by design. Here, everything is kept inside.”

The other half of his message is clear:

“Take a chance and step outside. Lose some sleep and say you tried. Meet frustration face to face.”

Not much more to the lyrics than that and the song is more than six minutes long. But it’s all he needs to get his point across, and it’s all I need to get his meaning. Taken together with that quote from the producer, the whole thing takes on another dimension. Curtis seems to have been one of those people who had to “step outside.” His art was stronger than his hesitation and it seems he had no choice. People like that are a sign post for the rest of us, the ones who DO have a choice. The ones who CAN choose to stay inside.

And I guess I have nothing to add.

Ever forward.

I listened to Speed of Sound by Coldplay recently. I like those guys. I like their optimism. One line stuck out for me: “If you never try then you’ll never know.”

Know what, exactly? This statement is commonly used when someone is about to give up on something important. Should I go talk to that person? Should I send in this manuscript? Apply for that job? When such a question is accompanied by doubt, as in, “What If he or she says no?”, the fear of rejection can overpower motivation. The answer from concerned friends is often the line from the song:

“If you never try then you’ll never know.”

By this logic, knowing the outcome is just as important as having the outcome go your way. It’s as if the real objective is not to go out with that girl or guy, not to get that book published, not to get that job, but to find out something you didn’t know before, to gather information. If it doesn’t go my way, at least I’ve learned something. To not try is to deprive myself not only of a potentially happy outcome, but of the knowledge that appears when things go the other way.

And that knowledge is vital. It may take repeated experiences before it makes its way into my consciousness, but once I acquire it, it can never be taken away. By gathering information I gain deeper understanding of what I’m trying to do with my life, and through that understanding I become more capable of doing it.

Whatever happens, I want my life to be something specific. I don’t need towering success, fame, or fortune. (Fortune would be nice. So would towering success. Not that interested in fame.) What I don’t want is to have my life be nothing more than a string of random choices devoid of unified intent. I want a guiding principle, a focus that leads somewhere, even if I won’t know where until I get to the end. I want to look back and say, “So that’s what I’ve been building all this time.”

I used to think I knew what I was trying to do with my life. But the vision has undergone changes in detail often enough for me to realize that I don’t. I have enough of an idea to keep going, but that’s about it. That’s why the Knowing locked inside the Trying is so important. With every opportunity life hands me, there’s more than just a chance for some success, there’s a chance to learn something about who I am, who other people are, what the world is, that I didn’t know before. I still believe I was born for something specific, but as I go I realize that what it is will probably be a surprise.

Ever forward.

Seth Godin has another fine post on his blog. This one is strikingly relevant for me right now. He spends the first 90% of the page reminding us how lucky we all are (assuming we’re Americans) to live where we do, when we do, and he’s absolutely right.

Good people have gone before us and made amazing things possible.

But then Godin changes gears and becomes exactly what I needed to hear. Not that the rest of his post wasn’t food for thought. No, it’s just that the end sounded like he was talking to me. Here’s the last line of his post:

“The object isn’t to be perfect. The goal isn’t to hold back until you’ve created something beyond reproach. I believe the opposite is true. Our birthright is to fail and to fail often, but to fail in search of something bigger than we can imagine. To do anything else is to waste it all.”

Those words, “something bigger than we can imagine,” are luxurious, hopeful, stuffed with faith and eagerness. But this is the part that caught me: “to fail and to fail often.”

I recently experienced a deeply significant failure. I didn’t get that perfect job. No, seriously, this was the perfect job. I’ve never felt that way about an employment opportunity before. On most days the only thing that will satisfy my questing heart would be the ability to build my story-culture and get paid for it. But this opportunity seemed like the missing link, that rare situation that would pay my bills (pay them well) provide for all my needs, call upon all my talents, and share boundaries with my dream at the same time.

I was really disappointed.

But a day after getting the news, I’m hopeful again, and stronger, and more than ever I know what I want. Knowing what you want is something you can never learn from getting what you want. You have to fail. You have to draw near to the golden ring and then miss. If you’re watching you’ll come away with a memory not of the missed chance, but of what it was in that chance that drew you. Your vision of what you want for yourself will become clearer.

To fail and fail often. Yes, that’s really how it is. This is not the first time I’ve failed in this quest I’m on. But each time I fail I find myself more capable than ever of achieving the dream. Yes, it can be maddening, but it’s true. What isn’t true is that “I was never meant to work there or it would have happened.” It’s also not true that “the right thing is still out there waiting.” What is true is that the right thing now exists when it did not exist before. It exists a little more because of this failure. I hope I don’t need to fail anymore, but maybe I do. I hope that if I do, I’ll be able to remember that failing is as important as succeeding when you’re trying to build a dream.

Ever forward.

NPR ran a great story about the book industry this morning, dealing with the impact of returns on publishers, book sellers, and distributors. Combined with a post at the Blurberati blog at Blurb.com, it’s a good gauge on the life force of the publishing industry. Could it be that higher shipping costs are actually promoting free speech?

While major publishers are not in a hurry to stop taking returns (which would give consumers pause at the cash register and drive retailers and distributors to demand deeper whole-sale discounts) high-ups at Barnes & Noble as well as Harper Collins are beginning to talk about instituting no-return policies.

Returns have long been the dark underbelly of the book industry. I’ve seen it firsthand at the bookstore level. The industry suffers a 25-40% return rate. Processing returns is a labor intensive task (again I speak from experience), and while shipping and processing costs are astronomical, the worst part is surely the sheer waste of paper (much of which is NOT recycled) which is truly disheartening.

Ten years ago proponents of the ebook were anticipating its rise to domination with near arrogant certainty. Today, in spite of the success of the Amazon Kindle, electronic book sales still account for less than 1/10 of 1% of book sales according to NPR. In the mean time, digital and on-demand publishing represents the middle road.

It’s a great time for a company like Blurb.com which stands out among its own print on demand competition with a focus on graphics and an obviously superior understanding of Web 2.0 and social networking (two elements that will separate the wheat from the chaff in the coming years). And with the current trend toward corporate, agenda-driven media, democratic publishing not only makes financial sense even at a large scale, but it might well become a stronghold for free speech, too.

Check out the NPR story here.

Ever forward.

I watched a video of Bill Moyersaddressing the National Conference for Media Reform. It’s a stirring speech and anyone who cares about America should watch it. Moyers addresses one of the core problems we now face as a nation: the erosion of the free press and the rise of the single-voiced, agenda-driven corporate media.

In the war for consciousness, information is hotly contested ground. For example, a great deal of evidence now suggests that the Bush administration did not want the American public to know the facts about the situation in Iraq before our current war, for fear that war would not achieve popular support. So, they seized control of the information outlets and stifled any facts that contradicted their purpose. This seizure was not sudden, but the culmination of years of effort and expense.

But of course they did. As the administration said of the Iraqi people before the invasion, to win the war you must win the hearts and minds of the citizens. And if you can’t, it seems, you must trick them.

This is not a polemic against the Bush administration, or even against the war. Instead, I choose to comment on the lack of consciousness that makes such travesties possible. Even people who support the war have never really been allowed to decide according the facts. That should bother them. Even now, in the face of clear evidence to this effect, American’s seem content to nod and smile. Or so it would seem based on the stories found in the corporate media.

If we wake up, we’ll know when we are being lied to and we will refuse to listen. If we wake up, we won’t want the fruits of war. We will recognize that all we want, all we need to feel the security for which we wage our wars is possible through peaceful means, means that would yield more prosperity and advancement than we could ever hope to achieve through war. If we wake up, we will experience vision and begin to see and seek a way forward that draws from us our best instead of our worst. If we wake up our ideals will reach higher based on the sense that they are not so idealistic after all. If we wake up it will become a source of legitimate frustration that those ideals have not yet been achieved.

I’ve always come down on the side of the playground bully. I don’t like bullies, don’t get me wrong. But when a big kid goes marauding through a kickball game of little kids, I don’t blame the big kid. I blame the little kids for not swarming the big kid, dragging him to the dirt, and taking back all the ill-gotten lunch money in his pockets.

Ever forward.

I’m just not sure anymore. I used to be sure. Now I’m not.

For a long time I’ve considered myself a non-mainstream catholic. I attribute this to my experience in the monastery. For example, a mainstream catholic would take issue with the fact that I go to mass when I feel it’s the right thing to do. I go when I feel called or “hungry.” I don’t go every Sunday simply out of rote adherence to rules. On the other hand, experience indicates that I have a deeper understanding of what the Eucharist is all about than most people who take it every day.

I was raised to think the church was necessary as a medium for my relationship with God. But the monastery introduced me to the need to develop my own relationship with God, to seek God directly. This left me with the sense that the church is helpful, but not necessary. Over time that has changed also. I’m not so sure how helpful the church really is. In fact, I’m not certain that the church is not a hindrance.

Essentially, I think the church has a lot to offer. The core teachings of Jesus are utterly beautiful and the implications of his divinity are mind blowing. But there’s something about the institution that gets in its own way. The history of the church is as political as that of any nation or state, just as full of backstabbing and intrigue, money grubbing and power brokering. The story of the papal sanctioned sack of Constantinople during the fourth crusade is truly horrifying, not least because of the political motivation for the attack. That may seem like a long time ago, but it isn’t. We’re still people and religion is still a powerful dividing line.

I’m having a hard time with this business of excommunicating women who are ordained and the bishops who ordain them. It’s so heavy handed and I really think it contradicts the most basic values that Jesus tried to teach. I’m not saying Jesus would want women to be priests. I’m not making an argument for the ordination of women. My concern is more with the act of excommunication in response to the actions of these women and these bishops. I can’t help thinking it’s the kind of response you can expect from a power center that is threatened and wants the threat to go away. It’s like the last stand of a parent who really doesn’t have a good reason for not letting his daughter stay out until midnight. “Because I said so, that’s why.” Such a mentality, when really pressed, doesn’t need a reason. It resorts to heavy-handed shunning.

I don’t think they even excommunicated Hitler.

I confess, attending a mass presided over by a woman would be weird for me, but probably only for the first few minutes. I’ve heard the arguments offered by popes and church officials against the ordination of women and I remain unconvinced. I’ve witnessed so many masses celebrated by men who were utterly clueless and had no idea what was going on that I find it hard to believe they are better suited for the role of priest simply because of their gender. It’s no great leap for me to imagine a woman doing at least as good a job.

But it’s this business of excommunication that really gives me pause. Excommunication? Seriously? I really don’t think that’s appropriate.

Ever forward.

According to Ray Kurzweil, if we could harness .03% of the sunlight that falls on the earth we could meet all of earth’s energy needs through 2030. And he’s talking about clean, renewable energy, not the filthy, polluting kind that we have to fight wars over.

Why would we not choose that?

One of the more disturbing terms I’ve come across is ‘war economy.’ Wikipedia defines it as “the contingencies undertaken by the modern state to mobilize its economy for war production.”

It’s not a new term, but it’s taken on a new chill for me as I realize we’re currently stuck in it. Our economy has been overtaken by the demands of war. We are working not to achieve peace, but to support war. As a matter of fact it’s worse than that. We’re working to pay the interest on the loan we’ve taken out to pay for the war. That means the war could end tomorrow and our grand kids will still be paying for it.

War generates profit to such an extent that the potential profits to be derived from peace are ignored because of the startup costs. Or is it more than that? Has our economy has been co-opted by people who prefer war to peace?

Stories about oil and gas prices frequently mention the increased demand placed by China and India on the world’s oil supply. But I never hear anyone talk about how much oil the Iraq war consumes on a daily basis. I doubt it’s a much as a nation the size of China. But I also doubt it’s insignificant. Could it be big enough that it has become necessary to fight the war simply in order to fuel the war? Has the war become its own self-fulfilling prophecy?

.03% of the sunlight that hits the earth every day. Three hundredths of one percent. Why would we not choose that?

I think that’s a question everyone should be asking themselves at least once a week.

Ever forward.

I had a great conversation with an old friend, who always seems to come through with great conversations. He told me about an experience he had recently with the sensation of pure being. There were some incredible details in his story, including a serendipitous encounter with some reading material within hours of the deeply terrifying experience that brought on the sensation.

He wondered how to respond to the experience in terms of practice and lifestyle. He recognized the significance of the event and while I doubt he wants to repeat the circumstances under which it took place, he clearly wants to find ways of cultivating the level of consciousness he’d wandered into.

After he described the experience, he asked me if I knew what he was talking about, thinking my time in the monastery might have put me in the way of similar experiences.

“Yes,” I said. “I know what you’re talking about.”

I suggested he not seek to repeat the experience. I suggested he just let it inform how he proceeds in life. It has already served its purpose: his awareness has been heightened. Nothing can take back the ground he covered in that moment. And that, not the sensation of pure being, is the point. The high points come and go, then it’s back to the trenches.

Peak experiences are not the point. In fact, St. John of the Cross, one of the great Christian mystics, teaches that peak experiences are a sign of psychological immaturity. A fully purified soul, one habitually immersed in pure being, does not feel it as such. Instead, life is just life and even the hard parts are peak.

Dividing peak experiences from trough experiences can be misleading. The experiences we call sharp, uncomfortable, or even tragic are part of life. Even if they are senseless, God is there, no less so than in the moments of pure being. It’s telling that my friend had his moment under circumstances of extreme duress. It’s the perfect illustration: harsh and heavenly in the same moment. That’s what life is.

Every morning I roll out of bed, go to my knees, and touch my forehead to the carpet in an effort to surrender to the Absolute. It’s an act of reverence and willingness, and anticipates the richness of divine blessing.

But the carpet smells funny.

Ever forward.