Tag Archives: resistance

Stressed, Tired? Overworked? Hate Working?

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Some lucky people just love their work. Or they always seem to love to work. Not me. I used to greatly resent the long hours I spent earning a living almost as much as I resisted my long daily list of “Things I Have To Do.”

 

It's not that I'm lazy. I just always thought that working interfered with getting on with my life, learning, and doing what I was supposed to be doing. Now I know that work usually offers just exactly the particular living, lessons, and opportunities I need. And now, more often, I enjoy all the kinds of work I do.  

 

Caveat: I’m now more often able to do work that appeals to me, but I haven’t always been so fortunate.

 

Here’s what I’ve learned about work that has helped me move from (generally) resenting and resisting it, to enjoying it:

 

I’ve learned that putting “work” and “play” into two opposing mental categories (play = good, work = bad) doesn’t reflect reality very well, because so-called “work” can often be very involving, and so-called fun/leisure activities can be quite boring. It all depends on where you're coming from, mentally, as you do the activity.

 

Marketers have pushed hard to convince us of this imaginary dichotomy (work = bad, fun = good) in order to sell us their long list of “leisure” goods and pastimes, such as tourism, food and drink, hobbies, toys and so on. Eventually, consumers started accepting as truth the notion that work is something anyone should want to escape from (to a car! to the boat! to the islands! to drink a Coke!) The idea of working in a cubicle all day started to seem pretty tough after a lifetime of exposure to a barrage of anti-work commercials advocating instant getaways–even though in actuality, cubicles are designed for concentration and privacy and personal creativity, and working in one might just possibly offer something far more interesting than a possibly dull day spent lying on a dock tanning somewhere. It all depends on how you're conditioned to look at it.

 

Some people love gardening (for instance) and spend all their leisure time at it. Others hate it but spend just as much time at it, because it's their job. Both people do the same activities, but because they're coming from different places mentally, gardening is fun to one and work to the other.

 

Mark Twain once attempted to define work as “what a body has to do,” which definition accurately distinguished work from play by focusing solely on where the do-er is coming from. If s/he is coming from a feeling of duty and responsibility, no matter the activity, it becomes “work.” If s/he feels at choice, if the activity feels optional,  the activity becomes play, rest, or relaxation.

 

From a long-term perspective, everyone is always at choice all the time, in everything we do. No one has to do anything at all. On any given day, we can choose to just up and quit and kind of fade away, or die. All we do, all our lives, is make choices, about when and how to die, and about how to spend all the hours we choose to live, in between being born and dying.

 

We need do nothing. Sudden illnesses and accidents prove this frequently, as presidents and slaves take to their beds and the world still goes on. Consider the lilies of the field: they neither toil nor spin, yet Solomon in all his glory was never arrayed as one of these. 

 

However, most people have pretty big life-agendas, so most people stay busy.

 

My husband once pointed out to me that my long list of “Things I Have To Do Today” was in reality a list of all the things I very much wanted to do. Say what?! Like, I want to mow the lawn? Clean the toilet? Pick up the dry cleaning? Yet if someone put a gun to my head and told me that, from now on, I could no longer have clean clothes or bathrooms or a tidy-looking lawn, I’d freak. I want those things in my life. (Actually, someday I’d rather have something more ecologically-sound surrounding me than a lawn, but that’s another story….)

 

What if someone somewhere suddenly walked into my life and prevented me from taking care of my family or friends or possessions, from working, or learning, or exercising, or making any of the myriad choices I currently indulge in as I decide how to spend the few precious hours that make up my life? I’d be pretty mad, despite the fact that he would have effectively relieved me of my daily task list….

 

Last week our local YMCA closed for cleaning. I fretted and whined all week about not being allowed to do my usual workout routine. Hmmm. Usually I complain all week about having to do my usual workout routine. What is fun and what is work depends entirely on where I'm coming from at the moment.

 

Like everyone else, I occasionally get hyper about not doing more of the things on my life list of “Things I Want to Do Before I Die.” But such suffering is mild compared with what I endure when I forget that all the things on my daily “to do” list aren’t merely odious duties and responsibilities that I must somehow grit my teeth and hold my nose and get nobly past; they are exactly the very things I’ve chosen to do, from among all the options I’m currently aware of having, that I most want done.

 

Maybe it would be nice to be wildly wealthy and pay for lots of others to do more of my work. But then I’d have to expend a lot of time and energy managing their help and my money, and I don’t much relish those tasks either. Besides, if the lessons I most need to learn as an individual involve being wealthy, God will help me get there. And until then, he'll have other lessons for me to learn, in other ways….

 

Where we “come from,” mentally and emotionally, as we’re doing work, whatever the tasks, is what makes all the difference. I’ve happily retitled all my daily lists to reflect their more appropriate and accurate reality: now they’re “Things I Want To Do Today,” instead of “Things I Have To Do Today” lists. I work hard to remember, these days, to shift my mind from “I have to” or “I need to” or “I must,” to “I want to.”

 

Along these same lines, whenever my list is long (and it always is) but my schedule flexible (true more often these days than in the past) I’ve learned to ask, given a moment of transition from one task to another, “What do I want to do next?” instead of “What do I have to do next?” The results of this tiny little shift really knocked me out at first. I could hardly believe what a difference this small distinction makes, and I certainly didn’t know the power of this shift until I tried it.

 

To my great surprise, I found that whenever I genuinely asked that question—“What do I want to do next?”—and took a moment to listen/wait for the answer, I always found that the answer was already on my mental list of things I “needed” to do. Surprising. And amazing. Because I had always thought that if I asked such a question honestly, my subconscious mind would leap to answer me with “lie on a Hawaiian beach!” or “take a trailride down a mountainside!” or some such. But no. Not at all.

 

Checking out what I want to do before I begin the next activity always makes the next, “chosen” task much more fun, and certainly lighter. Furthermore, when I get an answer and follow up on it, I often find out that my new day's re-ordered schedule is much more efficient than my merely logical brain could ever have designed. My inspirations are always much cleverer than I am.

 

A related insight about work came to me not long ago while I was pondering the traditional meanings of a religious term, “God’s will.”

 

I used to think that whatever God’s will for me was, it must be something completely different than my own will for me. Probably, in fact, God’s will for me was in direct opposition to my own, me being a miserable sinner and all, with all kinds of disgusting impulses, and him being perfect. Surely our wills would be in complete opposition, considering the devil whispering in my ear and all. God’s will, as I imagined it, had to be something harder, different, and more self-sacrificial than any of my own very-dear-to-my-heart, most-secret wishes. Doubtless, I thought, God wants me to give all that stuff up, give everything I have to the poor, and come follow him to Africa or somewhere, leaving all I love behind.

 

So of course, for a long time, I resisted even asking God The Question (“What is your will for me?”) Being pretty willful already, well, I had plans, and didn’t need anyone adding to my list or crossing out my stuff, particularly not God. I was quite confident that none of his answers would agree with any of mine anyway, so I just didn't ask, hoping he wouldn't notice my modest  omission.

 

Surprise. When I finally did work up the guts to actually ask the question (and now I do it more often, day-to-day, and sometimes even moment-to-moment) I always get the same answer. God wants me to be happy. And he wants me to share my happiness with others. That's it.

 

And the specifics? He helps me with those, too. To my utter amazement and astonishment, I’ve learned that God’s will for me, whether over the long term, or from day to day, is always exactly whatever, on the deepest and highest level, I most want for me, too, at that time. He wants me to do, right now, whatever it is I most want to do right now. Sometimes what I really want to do is so perfect I've reppressed it, but God always dredges it up for me. S/he  just works that way, better than magic.

 

The specific work God recommends of course varies from time to time (and no, I don’t hear voices)—but on the most general level, his will and my will are always the same–to do something, in some small way, that is caring, accepting, supportive, kind, useful. That's the only thing that ever makes me happy, or anyone else, for that matter. And I do so want to be happy.

 

Mother Theresa once said there are no great acts of love, only small acts of great love.

 

Often the urge to “do something helpful” takes the form of caring gently for myself. Hey, I’m God’s beloved child too, even though I sometimes forget that. More often, I’m prompted to continue my efforts for others in some small way. All I ever need to do is to remember to ask the question/s—either one of them—“What do I want to do now?” and/or “What is your will for me?” because when I do, I am lifted back into my overriding purpose, and am more able to hold it in the back of my mind as I work or play or whatever you want to call it, feeling well-supported in my task, and receiving the help I need to get that task accomplished peacefully and well.

 

Staying in the present moment helps a lot too, especially when the present task seems daunting.

 

In the past, no matter what activity I was engaged in, I spent a lot of time fussing that I really should be doing something else. When I rushed through my half-assed approach to mowing the lawn, I would fret that I hadn’t yet had time to read the newspaper and keep up with current events. Later, as I hurriedly scanned the paper, I worried about doing the laundry. Hastily sorting the laundry, I entertained nagging doubts about not getting in my workout. Yet, running down the road later, I obsessed about neglecting my husband. Alone with him at last, I found myself pining for time to myself, but when I was finally alone, I felt lonely and anti-social and wondered if my life was too self-absorbed. So I’d volunteer, and spend my volunteer hours mulling about not having time left over to use my talents or have a creative life….

 

And so on and on, in a stupid endless cycle of never being here and now, never living in the present, but always focusing on how I hadn't been or done “enough” in the past, or else hurrying to have, do or be “more” in the future. Funny, but no one ever worries or frets about anything when they’re focused on their work in the present–only when they’re mulling about, in the past and future, which don’t even exist….

 

In the past, as I rushed to finish the items on my “Have To Do” lists, I often dismissed any possibility of doing anything as well as I could. I mean, why even try, with so many limitations, with so little time and energy to put into any given task, and so many other things to worry about? After all, I reasoned, the results of giving “my best effort” in such a constrained situation would only be embarrassing. So I wouldn't even try. And thus I rarely earned the very real satisfaction that comes with a job well-done, along with its many other rewards. 

 

I've since learned that, even given only a few minutes, one can do one’s best, strive for excellence, focus on one task at a time, stay fully present, pay full attention to each detail, and work hard to appreciate and accept “what is” in that moment. 

 

Alternatively, one can spend those same few minutes rushing around and fretting. In both these instances, the results and the experience of working for those two minutes are totally different. The difference lies always in where I'm coming from–what purpose I’ve given myself, my atttitude toward excellence, and whether or not I recognize that I'm doing something I want to do–or not.

 

I still often fall into these foolish work patterns (old habits die hard) but I’m also gradually retraining my brain to recall and apply my new insights more often, as new challenges arise.

 

I’m also finally learning to “chip away” at goals or tasks, to take very small steps, and to be persistent in sticking with each of them.

 

Sometimes when I feel overwhelmed by all that I want to do (and even when I recognize that I’m the one who’s chosen to do all this stuff) I'll somehow manage to remember to mentally push away the whole big (scary) picture—the long impossibly hard list of undone things—and instead select and focus on just one small piece of one thing, and start “chipping away” at it. When I totally focus on that one small step, staying in the present, paying attention to detail, doing the best job I’m capable of doing at that moment (which is, admittedly, sometimes crap, but then, sometimes crap is my best), then I can accept and appreciate my own small contributions, whatever they are, along with my own fallibility and mistakes, and keep on chipping away at the next task.

 

I’m also getting better about not rushing, pushing or hurrying through work, although I still try to work efficiently and quickly. Again, the differences between these two approaches may seem like very fine distinctions, but the two are really quite different. Again, it’s just a matter of “coming from” a different place, mentally.

 

Whenever I hurry/rush/push, I just feel bad, because each of these words imply negative self-judgments (“You’re not good enough! You’re moving too slowly! You ought to think faster!” etc.) On the other hand, working quickly or efficiently has the different, more positive connotation of focusing firmly upon effecting my task well, without stress or carelessness. I can work quickly and still attend thoughtfully to the task at hand—something I cannot do when I’m rushing past the present moment toward some vague future urgency.

 

I learned another helpful work-related tip when training for a marathon: the process of getting there, of doing the actual work itself, that leads up to the goal, is almost always far more satisfying than the final achievement of the goal itself. True, I loved the day of the marathon; it was fun, exciting, exhilarating. But when I looked back afterward, what I really loved most of all was the training, all the good and bad and in-between workouts I got through during the months leading up to the marathon.

 

So—as all the wise sages know and express, but as I somehow was very slow to “get” on any personal level for such a long time–happiness is not something you find at the end of a journey, but rather, contained within the journey itself. Of course it’s fun to achieve success, but after a brief moment or a day or at most a week of exhilaration, such happiness wears off, and you just move on to the next challenge. Nearly all the fun, all the meaning, the involvement, all the interest lies in the long trip itself, not in the destination. So nowadays, once I’ve decided on a goal, I let go of it, stop thinking about it, and instead focus my attention on chipping away at that day’s or that moment’s work.

 

Another other good thing I've learned about a steady focus on “process” (rather than on the end-point) is that the final product, the result, usually turns out to be better too….

 

From my husband's example, I've learned that persistence in the face of huge challenges and overwhelming obstacles is not necessarily, as I was raised to believe, a foolish consistency–something maddening and frustrating, to be avoided at all costs. Difficulties had always been signals for me that, whatever my chosen task, it was now clear that it was inappropriate from the start, and so was no longer worth pursuing.

 

No.

 

My husband loves challenges. When he gets one, he lowers his head threateningly, snorts loudly, bellows, and paws the ground thunderously with a glint of fierce joy in his eyes (well, metaphorically speaking, anyway.) He loves it when someone tells him he can’t do something. It makes him laugh. His whole body visibly shifts, readying for action. He loves it when a task is impossible, because for him, impossible takes just a little longer. Challenges energize and focus him, probably because his past persistence has been so well-reinforced by his past successes (and yes, he’s had some failures too, has had to finally give up a time or two, too.) But overall, the harder and more challenging the work, the more he enjoys it. All this came as an amazing revelation to me who grew up with the attitude that if something was difficult, obviously I had picked the wrong task for my talents, and needed to drop it and choose something else to do.

 

My husband has also taught me by example that a good way to work harmoniously with others is to work hard to make them successful, and also, to help them with what is most important to them (which, to my surprise, is not the same for everyone, and rarely what I would want most, but instead, varies greatly from person to person.) Observing his experience with this, I’ve noticed that most of the many people he has taken the time to understand, help, and support, later have come through for him when he needed them the most.

 

He’s also taught me something about myself that is probably generalizable to most people—that I’m happiest when I stay busy. I used to rush through my long lists of tasks in order to get a moment to relax and escape from them (and I still enjoy napping and reading.) But for the most part, these days, I try to stay busy and productive. I find staying busy works best all around for me in a lot of different ways.

 

I'm also learning not to worry about what I leave undone. Even when I try my best to follow all the above “rules,” some important things just don’t get done. But a lot of other things do. And I’m learning to be OK with that kind of imperfect result. Because the depressing fact is, well, ummm, I’m human. (How embarassing.) Which means I’ll never do anything perfectly or to my complete satisfaction, and that’s OK, as long as I know I did my (often meager) best at the time (an important condition!) To err is human (to my surprise), and I’ve recently decided to humbly give up the good fight and join the human race. Learning to be more accepting of others’ imperfections has helped me become a lot easier on myself.

 

Regular exercise is never selfish. In fact, it’s the most unselfish way you can spend time in your life, along with ingesting wisely, getting a good night’s sleep, and prayer—because you are more able to help both others and yourself when you feel good.

 

The most tiring thing in the world is the stress of constant judgment, whether it’s directed toward yourself or toward others. Whenever I'm feeling very resistant—about myself, others, or the way the world is, no matter how routine my work of the moment may be, I'm soon exhausted. So one key to peace of mind and relaxation at work (and at play, if I must continue to make such distinctions) is to find new ways to let go of my resistance to others, to myself, and to the way things are in this best of all possible worlds. When I can find my acceptance again, I always return to every task with renewed appreciation for it and for everything and everyone, including myself.

 

Here’s what else I’ve learned about feeling tired when working: I rest or do something else, briefly, when I can, or at least take a moment to take three long deep slow breaths. I also try to avoid rushing through the present moment in my hurry to get to anticipated rest/reward/relaxation/escape, or to different tasks. Mr. Tortoise was right. Mr. Hare was wrong, remember? He collapsed in exhaustion and never got the job done? A steady work pace offers me a much more productive and peaceful routine than rushing-and-resting-and-rushing-and-resting.

 

I enjoy my life so much more these days as I’ve gained control over my various addictions. Alcohol, caffeine, nicotine, drugs, and food addictions gradually increase body tension and inevitably work against anyone's ability to enjoy work.

 

Transitions between tasks often challenge me. I'm too tempted to want to hold onto the excitement of my last accomplishment. Although it's always wise to step back and admire my own small achievements and pat myself on the back before moving on, I mostly need to keep moving on. I read somewhere recently that someone has a computer screensaver that says, “What’s Next???” in bold letters. Whoever he is, he has learned to keep on moving, to go on and take the next step, no matter how small. The present always holds new gifts, very different from the gifts of the past. (That’s why they call it “the present….”)

 

Whenever I’m working, it helps me to remember what the purpose of all my busy-ness is. What is my overriding goal in life, in general, as well as my goal for each specific task I do? The only goal that will ever be satisfying to me or to anyone is always the same one, although it has many faces and many names. Some call it God, others call it peace or truth. Sometimes it’s called service, or kindness, or love, or healing, or joy, or oneness or giving. All are exactly the same goal, shining in all its many different facets. Whenever I’m clear about my purpose as I begin each task, that task goes well and easily. Whenever I lose sight of my goal, or have some other goal in mind, then things don’t go so well.

 

And what if my current task seems somehow beneath me, unworthy, uninteresting, or radically different from what I would prefer to be doing?

 

Our culture puts a lot of importance on choice in career, vocation, avocation, i.e., in what we spend our time doing. And since we change a lot as we grow older, and learn more about ourselves, and for all the other reasons it’s so hard to change directions in life, we often feel stuck in work that doesn’t feel right for us.

 

It is indeed a wonderful thing to be able to do what your heart is pulling you toward. But when I feel I can’t choose that for now, when I feel compelled to work at something which isn’t anywhere near my first choice of activities, I can always make it more interesting, more worthwhile, and more involving by investing my love and time and best efforts and attitudes in it.

 

My favorite example of this approach is the very nice plumpish lady who runs the bus station in our town. When I first entered her mostly-empty station, I thought about how I’d hate such a boring, scary sort of job. But each time I go there, she is so efficient and kind, so courteous and warm to the regulars who come and go, so helpful and thoughtful with each newly confused customer…. The whole place simply shines with her attention. Her beautiful plants adorn each sunny window. She does her job as well as anyone could do it, and she enjoys her day because she extends her quiet, unassuming and gentle kind of love and intelligence and effort to every person who walks in the door. Since she recently (uncomplainingly) lost a leg to diabetes, she has found new resourceful ways to make the necessary adaptations to continue her cheerful work.

 

We’re given the tasks before us for a reason. It’s impossible to be in the wrong place or at the wrong time, for the universe always offers us exactly the lessons we need to learn right now (and when we don’t use the present opportunity to learn them, well then, the universe will offer them to us again, and soon, in another form. So we might as well get on with it.)

 

I try to remember to jump in when something not-my-favorite just has to get done. I try to use the moment to learn, grow, and do my best no matter what it is I have before me, trusting that other doors will open, and other challenges will appear after I’ve learned to do this job well. What I’m doing right now is what I most need to be doing, as long as I’m doing it the best I can. I cannot be but in the right place at the right time. There are no accidents.

 

It also helps to remind myself that I’m not punching a temporal time-clock anymore. With my newfound perspective of having all of eternity to get things right (however “eternity” may look—no one knows) these days I relax more, feel less rushed and hurried. (But I’d still rather learn to be happy sooner, and to share my happiness sooner, so I still try to get on with it.)

 

It’s also relaxing to remember that mistakes are OK with God, and with everyone else too, no matter what others say or act like, because they've made them too, and will make more of them. And the higher up the career ladder they go, the bigger their new mistakes will be, and the more they'll make. Messing up big-time is what being human is all about—that, and learning from our mistakes, and moving on to our next (usually harder) lessons. I see nothing in nature or in the nature of God (although I see much in formal religion) that condemns anyone for their mistakes, and I see great rewards inherent in learning from them, and moving on.

 

I’m dearly loved by God exactly as I am. He made me exactly as I am because that’s the way he meant for me to be—fallible. As the saying goes, God don’t make no junk. With this eternal—and eternally “forgiven”—perspective in mind, I’m much less likely to rush around trying to make up for my far-less-than-perfect past or worry about some vague future. If it’s enough for God that I relax and focus on the task at hand, it’s enough for me, too.

 

God never ever gives up on anyone. The life he gives us is about just-keep-on-truckin’, and he gives us all the time and help we'll need (if we ask him) to do whatever he wants us to do. God never goes away mad, although we often do. He just keeps on waiting around until we come back around to him.

 

My family teases me because I've always been one to keep on making (and raving on and on about) all these great astounding new spiritual discoveries that revolutionize my life—but really, they’re always just the same old rehashed ones, reappearing over and over in different guises. It’s just that I forget about them for awhile, and then I get excited about them when they come up again, all reinforced and seemingly brand shiny-new. God has been so very patient with my comings and goings.

 

I sometimes think dogs are the special creation that God gave us, to teach us what unconditional love really means. God always greets me upon my return to him in just the same way my darling joyous little spaniel Tally greets me when I come home–even when I’ve just stepped on his tail coming hurriedly in the door, and oops, I forgot to feed him, and drat, I’m late, so he’s suffered the indignity and disgrace of having to pee on the floor. What the hell, he says, hey, you’re the greatest! Wow! I sure love you! YAY you’re HOME! With God and his children, it’s always all about “what’s next?” and never about whatever happened before we came home again.

 

Trying to use your special talents if you can (and we all have some) is always a good idea. What are they? They’re all those abilities you’ve always taken for granted, all the abilities you devalued, the ones you were certain couldn’t be all that wonderful because they were always somehow just there, without much effort on your part. People always told you that you were good at them, and to be sure, most other people weren’t so often good at them. All those overlooked  and under-appreciated gifts you tended to denigrate and blow off? Yes, them. They're your talents. You have them.

 

Whenever I’ve developed and used my talents in service to some small slice of humanity, in some small way, it has always been so very satisfying. My gifts were given me for a very special (often unfathomable) reason. So were yours. And someday, looking back, we'll both know why.

 

On the other hand, no one, ever, ever (ever) who ever achieved anything remarkable, whether it be in a career or in any other field of endeavor–whether the work involved special talents or no particular aptitude at all–no one has ever achieved any level of success without a whole lot of struggle, many difficult tradeoffs, very long hours, and a lot of hard hard work. Just because a person has talent, just because they have a real interest, or really really want to do or be or have something, or just because they’re a whiz-kid and a natural wunderkind, doesn’t mean they still won’t have to overcome incredible challenges to reach success in their chosen field or in their chosen goals. This applies to whatever anyone wants most, whether it’s a successful marriage, a career, a lifestyle, an education, spiritual growth, whatever. A lot of life is about tradeoffs, and we'll someday know what was important to us, when we look back at our lives and see where we put our time….

 

Similarly, just because something apparently costs me an unreasonable number of hours or days or years of struggle to achieve, doesn’t mean I’ve chosen the wrong goal or career, or whatever. It only means that I am toughing through all the necessary work it takes to grow into an ever-more useful and happy person, meeting challenges, enduring a thousand failures and mistakes and kicks in the face—just like all the great leaders who have ever lived. Study Lincoln sometime if you want to read a long history of disastrous and heartbreaking failures, right up until the time he became President (and sadly, even after that.) Our greatest leaders aren't perfect. What they are is willing.

 

I’m trying to learn to persevere, for when I do, I find plenty of opportunities for renewed humility and the new wisdom that accompanies each temporary setback, along with the reinforcement that comes with renewed purpose and commitment. Perseverence through difficulties will help me become that much more productive and effective and useful and marketable than I ever was before. God never closes a door without opening a window.

 

I haven’t yet learned to apply all this stuff consistently, or in all situations, and I never will (at least not in this lifetime….) But I'm chipping away at it, and am much enjoying this joyous and rewarding lifetime process. I’ve come a long way toward becoming a happier, more productive, and less stressed-out worker.

 

This particular missive, howevr, has gone on way too long, and I've missed my workout and I'm late in making dinner and I'm stressed out and tired.

 

But happy. So herein endeth my tale.

 

 

What I've Learned About God in My Garden

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In this season of spring, renewal and rebirth, I’ve been thinking: what have I learned about myself—and about God—from being a gardener?

 

From studying his work I’ve come to know the workman. I’ve come to better understand his garden, his creation, his creatures.

 

I’ve learned that each of God’s flowers, however imperfect, is perfect to him. God doesn’t make mistakes; he doesn’t make junk. Like every thing in my garden, and like every other creature in God’s garden, I’m perfect as is. I was meant to be as I am, as I have been, as I will be. Through me and through all his creations, God expressed his will, and declared it good. I am his will, and I am good.

 

I’ve learned that God loves diversity, or else why would he have created anew each flower and each snowflake? I’m different from every other creation, and my uniqueness is holy. When asked what he had learned about God from his studies, Darwin replied, “God seems to have had an inordinate fondness for beetles” (the very diverse species which Darwin particularly studied as a young man.)

 

I’ve learned that God doesn’t mow down dandelions because they’ve been bad. I’m not individually judged, targeted, punished, or rewarded. God’s world works the way it works exactly as he meant it to work. Along with every other creature, I’m subject to his inexorable laws of cause and effect, laws he quite deliberately set in motion. Sun shines and rain falls unpredictably and arbitrarily on all of us, and there’s an inexorable and unprejudiced justice in that. God’s not in the business of interfering with cause and effect.

 

I’ve learned that God is in the business of nurturing the processes of life, and of celebrating life’s cycles. Like all his creations in his garden, I was supposed to be born and I’m supposed to die, and—if I’m lucky—I’ll have some time in between to grow.

 

I’ve learned that I’m expected to turn toward the sun and try hard to grow bigger and stronger and smarter, to understand God’s laws and live fully within them. I’m also expected to accept disease, decay, and death as a natural part of life.

 

I’ve learned that I’m loved. God is bounteous, and provides richly for each creature whatever it needs to live the life he expects of it until its time to die. If I ask for something and God doesn’t give it to me, I don’t need it.

 

I’ve learned that I’m not just a unique flower; I’m also the air and the soil and the nutrients, the rain and the light and the whole ecological system supporting me. My identity is dual—I’m both an individual and an integral part of a whole. I’m a unique self and a larger self.

 

I’ve learned that, just as each creature does its part to support all of life, it is supported in return by all of life. I am meant to support all of life just as if it were my self—which it is. I do unto life as I would have it do unto me, I treat others as I would like to be treated. Life blesses me, and I bless life.

 

I’ve learned that although flowers die, life is eternal. When my unique body/identity/self dies, my connected self will spring forth renewed, born again. I’m part of life, part of God, one with God—and life/God/self go on forever.

 

I’ve learned from my garden to let go of my insistence upon fairness and equality in earthly outcomes, and to accept instead whatever God offers. Life abundant and life eternal are God’s precious and generous versions of love and justice. I tend his garden humbly, contributing my own invaluable and unique gifts in appreciation and peace.

 

Happy Easter, happy Purim, happy spring to all! Happy season-of-welcoming-new-life-birth-rebirth-cycles-processes-growth-nurturing-beauty-and-joy! And happy gardening….

A Bunch of Unreallistic Dreamers and Kooks–and Me

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A ragtag bunch of unrealistic dreamers and kooks shared our home while passing through Frederick on their trek from Oak Ridge, Tennessee, headed toward the United Nations in New York City, where they will join a rally for nuclear non-proliferation in early May.

 

Or were they a serious, hard-working, disciplined, organized, committed, and spiritual group of unique individuals taking small peaceful steps toward greater sanity in a nutty world?

 

Arriving after a 20 mile walk from Lucketts, Virginia, the group took a scheduled rest day (once every seven days) in Frederick, welcomed by members of the Frederick Friends (Quakers) and several other local groups, before walking off toward a night hosted by two Thurmont churches.

 

What did I experience? A disparate but remarkably purposeful and caring group of believers and non-believers—Christians, Buddhists, activists of many stripes, the old and the young, walking for a day or a week or a month or for thousands of miles in many countries. They are black, white, Asian, native American, from the U.S., Japan, Australia, and many other countries.

 

As I juggle my own daily logistics, I wonder how the peacewalkers manage to arrange nightly lodging (on the floors of welcoming libraries and churches) how they eat breakfast, lunch, dinner, get medical care, manage personal possessions and sleeping bags…. But all seems smooth and organized. Every day they rise for interfaith prayer, and are walking by 7 a.m. They walk fast, carrying peace banners from many nations, smiling and waving and sharing their energy and positivity, even after walking fifteen miles. They are efficient and tidy, leaving their accommodations spotless.

 

I expected to host exhausted walkers who would collapse until noon in every corner of my home. No, they rose at dawn for prayer. One visitor, a Buddhist nun, magically produced from a small suitcase, a portable office. She spent the morning using her brief “rest” to email and call far-flung colleagues, and to plan a future walk converging in South Dakota. Willing hands produced a light breakfast and a feast for lunch. The young people wanted to explore Frederick’s downtown, while the rest shopped Goodwill, mailed pressed flowers and letters home, and then planned their evening presentations for curious townsfolk–about why they joined the group, why they walk, why they’ve stayed.

 

After everyone had left, I thought about what their work meant to me. I was most struck by how reversed I now felt about who and what is crazy.

 

Although I always have respected the peacewalkers’ cause—nuclear non-proliferation—I admit that I invited them despite a feeling that this was a crazy bunch of people choosing a crazy life and a crazy goal.

 

Now I’m thinking about cutting out sugar and caffeine and alcohol, as many of them do, for more energy–and maybe I’ll start fasting, too. I’m considering rising a little earlier to meditate and pray, and I’m asking myself what example my way of life offers to my children, and to others. I’m thinking again about moving forward on some impossible dreams of my own, thinking about taking the next step and then the next, as the peacewalkers courageously do each day, keeping the faith in humanity and possibility.

 

I’m thinking that maybe the life I see on TV, the commercial life, the fast life of the contemporary west, my life, is perhaps not the best context from which to decide who is crazy or not, nor from which to determine what is a balanced, healthy, useful life. I’m thinking that maybe I’ll try to shake myself free of contemporary culture just long enough to reconsider the possibility that nuclear tragedy isn’t necessarily inevitable, nor that working for change in our government policies isn’t necessarily a waste of time, and that joy and meaning and energy may come more readily from a purposeful, disciplined, giving, hardworking, kind, and open life.

 

I’m thinking I’ll keep an eye on the internet for the next time any peacewalkers come anywhere near my town again. I’ll download their schedule and join them in solidarity and respect, for a few days, or maybe I’ll plan a vacation around them. Maybe others will do the same, and maybe someday, as they hope, huge throngs will crowd around them in appreciation and support as they stride purposefully, idealistically, determinedly through the towns of the world. Yes, it’s true, they’re dreamers. But they’re not the only ones.

What If…?

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What if it’s not important to be right?

What if, instead of deciding who to love, we just love everybody?

What if no one can explain God, but it’s fun to try anyway?

What if the best way to help others is to love them just the way they are now?

What if the world is the way it is because God made it this way on purpose?

What if trying to change people just doesn’t work?

What if talking problems over with God always helps?

What if god doesn’t care whether you capitalize her name or not?

What if you’re perfect (ly human) just the way you are right now, and so is everyone else?

What if there’s no past and no future—only a long line of nows?

What if they gave wars and nobody came?

What if we treated everyone the way we’d like to be treated?

What if everything is possible with God’s help?

What if the differences between people don’t matter?

What if we’re each completely lovable in our own way?

What if everyone helps and no one hurts?

What if religion is about opening hearts and minds? 

What if thoughts and ideas are the most powerful things in the world?

What if we live our own lives and let everyone else live theirs?

What if no one has unfriendly thoughts about anyone (including themselves)?

What if things change only when we change?

What if the world is as we are?

What if what God wants for us and what we want most are the same things?

What if people explain God different ways, while God stays the same?

What if we don’t need to worry about mistakes?

What if life is supposed to be the way it is?

What if we already have everything we need?

What if people who were upset only got smiles and help?

What if the things that separate people aren’t important?

What if there’s nothing to be afraid of?

What if the best way to help the world is to love it the way it is right now?

What if people who suffer injustice never added to it?

What if everyone knows what’s true, but no two explain it the same way?

What if giving up guilt frees us to give and love and be happy again?

What if we decide to see only good?

What if we go on forever?

What if God is love?

What if there are more questions than answers?

What if the questions and the answers change as we change?

What if human minds are smaller than God’s?

What if we’re not meant or expected to understand everything?

What if living in faith means choosing, even though we can’t be sure?

What if it’s OK to talk about all of this?

Last Night at the Frederick Peace Meeting

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An impressive group of Frederick citizens exercised their constitutional rights and civic duties last night in thoughtful, impassioned dialogue concerning the planned Fort Detrick multi-agency expansion (which includes the Departments of Agriculture, Defense, Health and Human Services, and Homeland Security.)

 

An articulate lifelong activist expressed her concern that necessary security precautions might screen the illicit activities of a small but powerful paranoid minority. What if a secret few rationalized production of dangerous new viruses? Wouldn’t those new viruses be subject to misuse, terrorism, theft, accidents, and carelessness? Even with past assurances, she thought, bad things can happen. They’ve happened before.

 

A caring, erudite scientist advocated cool heads, citing good intentions, expertise, experience, safety, and the many advantages of the planned diagnostic and protective research for both soldiers and citizenry.

 

A thoughtful businessman offered practical suggestions on how to continue to spread the group's concerns and ideas–where concerned citizens might go and whom they might see–the mayor, Ft. Detrick leaders, members of Congress. He encouraged continued participation in the issue.

 

A young Quaker pacifist asked how everyone felt about working cooperatively with Ft. Detrick to assure transparency and open processes? Did the group still hope to influence Ft. Detrick to reverse itself on the expansion in general?

 

No compromises, urged a war-weary longtime activist, suspicious after many years of uphill battles. What if we collaborate while new strains of deadly viruses are weaponized? What if the Ft. Detrick expansion begins a new arms race in biological weapons as uncontrollable and dangerous in this brave new world as the current arms races in nuclear bombs, missiles, and conventional air, sea, and land weaponry?

 

A retired teacher wondered aloud whether the expansion might attract terrorists to Frederick. What if someone lobbed a bomb over the post perimeter fence from a home in any of the nearby neighborhoods? It’s not only the loss of lives and property, she added wistfully. Wouldn’t there be a national panic over the possible biological contents of floating and falling debris? Would that panic be legitimate?

 

The possibility of a bomb alarmed a tireless peace worker who handles much of the group’s paper and phone work. Nothing in the Ft. Detrick report said anything about a bomb, she worried, passing chocolates down the conference table (the group was temporarily meeting at a nursing home where she was recovering from a stroke.) A bomb. What about all our lifelong Frederick friends, family, our grandchildren?

 

The Peace Resource Center’s founder, a selfless, peaceful activist and community leader for more than twenty years, sought consensus by restating what he had heard from all of us:  Were we still hoping to prevent the Detrick expansion? Or were we willing to continue to strongly share our concerns while working for transparency and openness in all processes?

 

A firm “NO” came from a knowledgeable woman who dons black clothing to conduct public evening vigils in solidarity with women everywhere suffering from violence. What would spending this money tell the world about our national priorities? How could America throw money at potential threats when so many here and abroad are suffering and dying right now from real and present threats, like preventable diseases and malnutrition?

 

A soft-spoken newcomer wondered aloud whether bioterrorism research was at all suited for a military base, especially a base historically synonymous in the minds of the international community with biological warfare. Was it wise to deliberately inflame international perceptions? Why create more fear and anger? Even if U.S. actions are unimpeachable, will anyone trust our intentions, given our bioweapons history, our military presence in hundreds of bases all over the world, the size of our defense budget, our use of atomic weapons, and our current proactive conduct of the war on terror?

 

One powerful citizen offered a European perspective: All this focus on terrorism–wasn't it just serving the interests of those who might wish to divert national attention away from greater threats to our homeland’s  security—our unpopular foreign policies and wars, our national debt and deficit, our lack of living wages, unaffordable health care, housing, and higher education, our troubled education system, our threatened civil and political rights, our beleaguered environment?  And what about our fights against drugs, pornography, alcohol, crime, low moral standards, and imprisonment? Aren’t these threats endangering our beloved country’s security right now, every bit as as much or even more than potential acts of terrorism?

 

A young collegian who had listened in silence spoke out in challenging yet measured terms. If you want young people to support your efforts, he said, don’t water this stuff down. Speak up. Take a stand. Be clear. If you know what you want, go after it. I think we should oppose the expansion.

 

A cacophony of sharing and side-conversations ended the meeting. We can still do some good…. We can support needed work without supporting secrecy and dangerous experimentation…. Let’s talk more at our next meeting about our films-for-peace  project…. You can’t control technology—didn’t you see Jurassic Park?… You just have to be careful…. Are you coming to the peace conference?… Can the rewards match such risks?… Someone should write all this up…. Hugs…warm handshakes…. That new website looks great…. Courage…. How is your family?… Want a ride home?… Here, take this candy…. Good-bye good-bye, until next time.

 

(The people and ideas shared in this article are composites of attendees and opinions exchanged at recent meetings. The Peace Resource Center of Frederick invites constructive participation and objective debate on this and other issues. They meet at 4 East Church St. on the 2nd and 4th Tuesdays of each month from 7:30-9:30 pm.)

How I See the World (Today)

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Every person creates his or her own unique “reality.” Reality is not something “out there,” but something “in here,” created (during youth) as each person’s unique brain interacts with its particular environment, attempting to make some kind of systematic and predictable sense out of the relatively narrow set of confusing experiences and nonsense correlations it is confronted with. Thus, each individual arrives at adulthood with a unique belief system and worldview different from any other's. Much of adult learning consists of unlearning what we came to “know” about life in childhood that doesn’t happen to be so.

 

No one’s perspective is complete, or objective, or “right.” No one knows what he doesn’t know. No one ever achieves a complete understanding of anything, nor will anyone ever get anything completely “right” or “perfect”—no goal, no relationship, no choice, no idea—except, of course, that we are all perfect and right in the sense that we are all at every moment just exactly what we were meant to be, i.e., perfectly human.

 

Nature reveals a lot about the way my-unique-view-of-God works. “By the work, ye know the workman.” Nothing in nature or science contradicts anything I think or believe.

 

People are a completely natural part of nature.

 

Every person is born capable of the complete and astonishing range of human behavior, from the depths of depravity to the pinnacles of goodness.

 

It is written in the (very fallible but often wonderful) Bible, that when God “created” man and nature, he declared that both were “good.” I like the wisdom here. Who are we to argue with God, to call ourselves fallen and evil and sinners, when the creation-God of so many cultures has declared us “good,” and the earth good, just exactly as we are, just exactly as it is? We are exactly as God intended us to be—capable of all things, on this best of all possible worlds. We did lose peace, though, when we chose to see ourselves as separate from each other and God/higher power, and thus somehow shameful. (If you don't believe in a higher power, sin and evil and hell and such aren't issues for you….)

 

It’s interesting and fun to try to figure everything out, but only if you approach life as a wonderful surprising adventurous process with no goal at all but what you are doing right now—and not as an impossibly difficult and dangerous maze with a mysterious end  reward or goal. But whatever way you choose to look at life, you’ll still never figure it all out or get it “right.”

 

Since none of us knows what we don’t know, and since we don’t know what part of what we know isn’t so, then with each moment-to-moment choice we make, we act out of a  particular belief system, which is, in a sense, our unique and chosen faith about “how things work.”

 

There are two very general but very different things one can choose to put one’s faith in: fear or love. We all grow up with a mixture of the two faiths.

 

In any given decision moment, we decide to put our faith into either the one or the other–but we can never choose both at the same time, because fear and love can’t coexist in any one mind in the same instant.

 

The word “love” as I use it comprises all the good stuff humans are capable of—caring, hoping, kindness, forgiveness, acceptance, gentleness, giving….

 

The word “fear” as used here comprises all the bad stuff we’re capable of—like defending, attacking, controlling, hurting, hating, anger, greed, pride….

 

All of us have learned a lot of very reasonable, logical, arguable, cultural and personal reasons why we shouldn’t choose to act with faith in love in various situations. However, if we decide we want to, we can learn to recognize and drop each of these barriers to love, one by one, by seeing them as beliefs that don’t serve life very well. We can unlearn them, moment-to-moment.

 

Whichever way we decide to go, both kinds of faith–faith in fear or faith in love–are shots in the dark. In fact, that is what faith is, a shot in the dark. Faith is acting as though you know something to be true, when actually you don’t, at least not unarguably. You never know anything for sure–no matter how strong your faith–but you still have to choose how to act. Faith is choosing to act as if you know something and trust something for sure, when you don’t.

 

You can act, moment-to-moment, as if you know that being loving will out work for the best in the long run for you and for everyone else. Or, you can act as if you know that things will work out for the best if you choose to “fight back,” defending and protecting yourself against all the bad stuff you see in others.

 

All decisions and all actions, large or small, require courage, and all people (even those labeled the most “evil” in history) take only the actions they’ve decided will work best for them, based on what they think they know and don’t know.

 

“Love beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.” Being a loving person means having faith in the good intentions and sincerity of all others, all the time. We need to “believe” what others tell us, even when what they tell us seems completely unbelievable–because in some respect, from their viewpoint, they do believe it.

 

As Jesus was crucified, he said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” We need to forgive ourselves and each other all our mistakes, small and large, because we are all  just wandering around and acting in the dark, doing the best we can, and you can never know what choices makes sense from another person’s worldview, or why. Besides, you'll never “forgive and forget” your own mistakes until you first learn to forgive and forget the mistakes of others. And the weight of constant self-judgment is exhausting.

 

When you treat all others as you would like all people to treat you, you are acting out of a faith in love. When you make an exception to this universal rule, which is the foundation of all human ethics, morals, and religions everywhere in the world, you are acting out of your faith in fear.

 

When you come from a mental place of being “right,” (“I am right about this”) you automatically make all the people who disagree with you “wrong,” which doesn’t work very well either.

 

Everyone, without exception, is deserving of our respect for their courageous (or timid) efforts to negotiate a life that is often difficult and painful, and always challenging and confusing.

 

“Vengeance is mine saith the Lord” means, “Vengeance isn’t yours.” Things may not seem fair or just from our own narrow perspectives, but God has a different, bigger, better, longer, more just picture, one we usually don’t get. We can ask him to share it with us, though. When confronted with problems, I often ask God to help me “see” things his way. And so he does.

 

God gives us all the good spiritual gifts we ask for—strength, insight, wisdom, help, comfort, understanding, forbearance, patience, and all the others, which can make a huge, even miraculous, difference. If we feel bereft, it’s because we haven’t asked for help. I don't think that God interferes with nature, but rather, works with it.

 

When we act out of fear, we deprive ourselves of the nicest state in the world, feeling harmless and safe and loved and lovable and peaceful.

 

Others generally will treat you the way you treat them. Others generally will see you the way you see them. So if you want others to start seeing you and treating you caringly, you go first. And be really patient—it can take a long time to change old patterns, both yours and theirs.

 

We can decide to look at the world and people lovingly, or we can decide to see the world and others fearfully, moment-to-moment, over and over again. Our lives and choices are not about “what’s out there.” Everything we see and do is always about “what’s in here.”

 

I choose to live as much as possible as if the past and future don’t really exist. This approach has a lot of freeing implications concerning “identity” (i.e., it’s much more fun to think of yourself as nothingness-full-of-possibility than to drag around a heavy burden of past and future.) The present is the only time I can be happy, be creative, can give and receive, can fully experience life; I’ve also found that whenever I notice I’m afraid or mad or sad, I can be sure I’ve been thinking about the past or the future, not the present. So I try to stay in the present….

 

In this world which often seems hopeless and terrifying, and despite having very little knowledge, and often no reliable human hand to hold—my challenge is to take the next step with love.

 

Sometimes the result of putting our faith in love seems unkind or unjust or unfair to ourselves, but it is always nobler to suffer injustice than to add to it. When we put our faith in love, at the worst we will do no harm.

 

God is what comforts me when I ask for comfort; God is what inspires me when I ask for inspiration, what creates through me, what loves through me, the light I see in the eyes of every person, all the beauty of nature, all that thrills me and brings tears of gratitude, all that connects me with everyone and everything that is, all that is profound, awesome, true, good, meaningful, the highest and best in man and nature. God is all the answers and all the questions, all the pain and all the joy, the beginning and the end of everything. That's as close as I can come to defining my personal God, and my personal belief system.

 

I don’t “know” any of this stuff, except through my individual experience and learning; every time I act with love, I feel confirmed in my faith in love, and every time I act in fear or anger or hatred, I am even more miserable. I choose to believe all this because it works for me in my day-to-day life. It’s also interesting and fun/light. What others learn is often different, what works for others may be different, and what others choose to believe is often different. I don’t think I’m right and I don’t think you’re wrong—we just have different realities, as does each person on this planet….

 

These are some of the things I try to remember as I go through life. I don’t ever get them right, though, and that’s OK too. How I see things will continue to change as I keep learning and growing.

Acceptance 6 – Is acceptance Christian? Or is it based on some eastern philosophy or religion?

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Jesus accepted what God gave him to be and to do, accepted the life and death and work that was given him by his father. Jesus's prayer was always, “Thy will be done.” Jesus made acceptance an important part of every prayer. He tried to accept God's will: “Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.”

And what is God's will? Well, look around at what he made. If God is all-powerful and all-good, is it likely that he goofed up in his intentions when he made the world and all the beings in it? Or did he make them just as he wanted them to be, in all their diversity and potential, and then called them “good?” If God made you and the earth and everyone else on the planet, then what he made must be his will. He must have meant to make people who were capable of mistakes and failures and weakness, or he wouldn't have done it. You are God's will, and so is everyone else, and so is the earth, just as it is, along with all of its possibilities.

When someone dies and people say, “It's God's will,” what do they mean? Do they mean that God is mean and wants innocent babies to suffer and die? Or do they mean that God made all things possible on this best of all possible worlds, and called that good, and that we must accept any of those possibilities as part of his vision. God meant for the world and the people in it to be just exactly as it is and as they are. If God had meant for each of us to be perfect, to never mess up or suffer or fail; if God had meant for the world to be without pain or problems, he would have made it that way, would have made us different. We are God's will, and so is his earth.

Look and see: God's will is us, and everything around us. You are God's will, and so am I, and so is everyone else, and so is the world, as it is. Because he made us, because he made it so. And yes, God also made us ambitous for happiness, and for goodness, and for love, and that too seems to be his will.

Adam and Eve rocked along pretty happily in their beautiful garden until they started to find fault with everything in it, including each other; until they began to notice with dismay their own nakedness/sexuality; until they ate of the fruit of the tree of good/evil right/wrong, and started judging everything and everyone along those lines. After that, they were miserable, because they started finding fault with everything that God had made, with each other, with sexuality itself, which, it should be quite evident, is God's will.

God gave us the necessary brains and hearts to live in his beautiful garden helpfully with one another. We can choose to spend our lives picking at and poking at and being angry about everyone and everything and ourselves all the time, labeling everything as good and bad, right and wrong. Or, we can accept ourselves and his world and everyone in it as he made us, as is–and along with him, call it all “good.” Who are we to argue with God? And besides, it's a lot nicer and more fun living acceptingly inside his beautiful garden with him, than wandering around outside it in the wilderness of the desert, wailing in pain and resistant to everything and everyone, resistant even to God, maybe even especially to God.

Life is just too lonely without him, without the world, without each other, without our own selves as our best friends. We've all “done” lonely, and it doesn't work.

Next: If I accept something or someone, does that mean I have to put up with them?

Acceptance 5 – Isn't it better to change something rather than just accept it?

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When a situation isn't working, of course, change it if you can. But what is the best way to go about changing something? How can you be good at bringing about change? Are you going to be able to change things well if you're all upset and angry and emotionally strung out about stuff? Or would you be better, more effective at making changes if you learned to be calm and OK about whatever is, “as is,” first, and yet still wanting and willing to improve it? That's why it's so important to at first accept each person, each situation, yourself, life itself, just as it is, just exactly as they are. To be able to say, “this is me, this is them, this is life, this is what is,” without adding all your own reactions and emotional and mental stuff to it. When you can do that, when you can learn acceptance–then you will start to make and see big changes in your own life and in the lives of others around you–and even in the world.

So, does acceptance mean giving up? Settling? Resigning yourself forever to something or someone?

No. No one ever has to accept anything forever, because it's not possible to accept the future in the present. Just as you can't experience the future now, you can't accept things that might happen in the future, now. For instance, you can't accept being a parapalegic forever. The future is vague, unreal–too big, too hard, too far away to deal with in the tiny instant of time–now–that you have to do anything in.

No one can accept being in pain forever, and fortunately, no one needs to, because it's not possible. But one can accept pain, or anything else, for this moment. Just as the only time we can live, laugh, love, be kind, be cruel, whatever, is in the present moment, the only time we can accept anything is while we're in the middle of right now, during the process of living with it. It's impossible to accept for tomorrow, because tomorrow isn't real. Who knows what strength or wisdom or support or change the future holds? Or disaster, for that matter. Paraphrasing Jesus, today's troubles are enough. Don't worry about tomorrow's, because tomorrow will be the time to take of them.

In one sense, acceptance means settling–but just for right now; resigning yourself, for this moment; giving up resisting and struggling and fighting against whatever it is you don't like, in this present instant. That's a hard enough task for now, and it is enough to bring the peace that is the beginning of change.

That's it. That's all. That's all acceptance means. And when you accept “what is” in your life, right now, without adding all the usual amount of stress, struggle, and strain that everyone tends to add to the bad stuff in their life, then you're in a good position–you're aware and present and capable of working in the here-and-now–the right place to start effectively making the changes you want to see in the future.

Next: Is acceptance Christian? Or is it based on some eastern philosophy or religion?

Acceptance 4 – Why should I accept something that's wrong or bad?

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We were all raised by people who had ideas about good and bad ways to act, right and wrong ways to live, etc. Whether or not we still agree with any or all of those ideas now, we still are stuck with the little judgment-machine they created in our heads that is always talking at you, yelling at you, whining, making demands, arguing with you, scolding you or telling you off. Sometimes our little judgment-machines are busy doing all those same things, except this time they're directed toward everyone else in our lives–not to mention all the situations in our lives, and in the whole world. All those stupid little voices won't shut up about what's right/wrong good/bad about ourselves, about others, about the world. They just never shut up, do they?

And have you ever noticed how some people are still listening to these voices even long after they're all grown up? In fact, that's when the voices kick in bigtime: when you leave home–when you leave the real voices (your family, etc.) that started the whole thing, behind you. It's almost like your brain is afraid to leave them behind, afraid you won't be safe without them. so you bring them along with you wherever you go.

It's paradoxical and frustrating and ironic, and still sad-but-true: most people never quite seem to learn how to outgrow the too-loud, irritating, guilt-producing, naggy, nasty parental voices they accumulated during their first eighteen or so years, even when they long ago outgrew their parents, and even when the parents have changed and are now treating them more respectfully and kindly.

If you're still run by your thoughts, your voices, all it means is that you've never quite outgrown reacting to all the stuff in your life from a judgmental, parental right/wrong good/bad basis. It's as if you were five years old again, and your mother or father or some other person from your past was talk talk talking disapprovingly all the time in your ear. And you haven't learned yet to nod, smile, acknowledge what they have to say with no reaction, thank them for sharing, and then go about your business with a quiet mind.

Until you learn acceptance, you'll always be thinking about everything in terms of good/bad right/wrong. No matter what happens in your life, you will always be about finding fault–with yourself, with everyone else, with your life or the world. You will, unfortunately,  waste so much time and energy noticing how wrong everyone else is, or obsessing about every one of your own little mistakes, or talking about how messed up the world is getting to be, along with everybody in it.

Many people have learned acceptance. They're the ones out there who really don't seem to worry much about any of that right/wrong good/bad stuff. Instead, they cheerfully go about their own business getting along with everyone, liking everyone, getting things done, and being pretty happy in their own skins and in their own lives. People who are accepting seem to pretty much like people and life and themselves the way they are.

Which one of these two types of people would you rather be? Which type has the happiest life? The most fun? Which type is probably the most effective, regardless of what it is they choose to do with their life and time and energies?

Both types of people have to live on this same planet, with the same species, with the same opposite sex, with parents, children, neighbors, bosses, relatives, co-workers. Both types are found in all walks of life, in all races and ethnicities and nations, all ages and colors and genders.

But the unaccepting ones always seem to struggle so much. Too often, they find life and everyone in it, and even themselves, distasteful, even dreadful, all-in-all quite unacceptable. And yet others, the accepting ones, somehow manage to muddle through their lives with a certain amount of cheer and fun and flair, despite their own inevitable set of life's troubles and pain.

The differences between accepting and non-accepting personalities are clearly not differences in wealth. It's not about rich or poor (although money can be really very nice and helpful to have, and not even about who is right or wrong, or good or bad, or better or worse, or luckier or unluckier–although good things do tend to happen to accepting people. The biggest difference about accepting and non-accepting people (and this is a matter of learning, of choosing) is how they deal with the bad stuff in their life–whether they accept it, or fight it. If they spend a lot of time reacting to everything around them, listening to all their own little judgmental voices tell them all about how awful they are, and how awful everything and everyone else is…they're going to be both unhappy and ineffective. People who dwell on the “bad” and “wrong” stuff about themselves and the people around them, who spend too much of their time making unhappy judgments about “what is,” and thinking about how other people should act, and what other people should and shouldn't do, and all the mistakes they and other people have made, make themselves crazy.

Instead of all this crazy-making reacting and judging, some people learn to go through life without continually over-reacting, without judging, and instead, just accepting “what is” just the way it is, and other people just as they are, and themselves, and the world, just as we are, and it is.

Unaccepting people notice every little “wrong” thing about themselves, about others, and about the world, and make themselves miserable over it all. Accepting people don't spend much time worrying about all the right/wrong good/bad stuff. Somewhere along the way, they learned to accept things as they are, and not to waste time dwelling on how things aren't or ought to be. Accepting people have learned to focus on “what is” in life, instead of “what ought to be.” They've learned not to waste time worrying about what other people do or don't do or should or shouldn't be.

Accepting people–happy people–go about doing what they do without bothering to name it or anyone good or bad or right or wrong (i.e., judging everything and everyone.) Unaccepting people spend their life being upset about how awful life is, how disusting, how shocking. They spend life being righteously indignant about how wrong other people are, and how unfair, unkind, unjust, uncaring.

Accepting people rarely bother with all that negativity and hostility, which is not to say that they don't work hard for the changes they want in their life and in the world–we all do. Just like everyone else, accepting people have to work hard to make the changes they want to see in themselves and their own lives and in the world. It's just that they don't get all upset about everything and everyone while they're waiting and working and hoping for change. Which is good, because if they did that, nothing would ever change.

Acceptance is about accepting things as they are right now, while working to let go of your angry, resistive stuff about things-as-they-are, working calmly, peacefully, cheerfully, to change the things you want to be better and different.

Next: Isn't it better to change something rather than just accept it?