Worth doing badly

Posted on December 29, 2010 by Craig

I’ve noticed something about people who follow their passions on a regular basis. I’m talking about the people who are really excited about that one thing – they talk about it, they go to conventions about it, they buy the latest gadgets for it, and they sometimes forget to eat or sleep while they’re doing it. They would do it for free. It could be music, or programming, or basketball. Whatever it is, it won’t leave them alone.

The thing I’ve noticed about them is that they aren’t afraid to experiment – and even fail badly – in their field, on a regular basis. They try stuff out. They create stuff that might be brilliant, or might be embarassing, but either way, they try it and put it out there.

Hence the expression: Anything worth doing is worth doing badly.

I’ve also noticed that the people who are very passionate about something, and keep doing that thing regardless of criticism for their failures, often end up better than anyone else at it. Of course, right? That’s a pretty obvious conclusion. If you practice your guitar for five hours a day, or lock yourself in your room with your computer until the sun comes up, eventually you’ll be more skilled at it than other people who never try it. If you have the passion to spend all your time on it, you will become a pro eventually.

The problem is, a lot of people (myself included) are too scared of failure and criticism, or just not passionate enough about one thing – or perhaps too repressed to even know what that passion is, even if it is bubbling under the surface. So, given the choice between wasting time on entertainment, or pursuing a hobby, the entertainment wins out.

It’s not that I ever made a decision early in life to devote my whole life to being entertained. I just made new decisions in each of a million moments to entertain myself rather than get really good at something and make a career out of it.

So, here I am at 37, trying to decide what I want to do for the rest of my life. And then, I have to decide in each of the next million moments to devote my time to that instead of other crap. It would be easy if I felt really passionate about doing that one thing all the time.

Writing is the obvious thing that everyone says I’m really good at. Sometimes, I really enjoy writing. Trouble is, a writer’s life is not easy. It takes a lot of discipline. Unfortunately, I was born with a talent to write but not the discipline to go with it.

So, now what? I want to write. I just don’t always choose to write when faced with an equally enticing option to play video games instead (even, ironically, when the video game requires a lot of effort).

I guess I just have to do what all the great writers tell everyone that “wants to be a writer” – I have to write. Yes, even when I don’t feel like I have anything to say, or when I want to do something else, or when I feel sleepy, or any of the other quadrillion excuses I’ve found not to write.

Okay. So, here I am. It’s 2:30 in the morning. I got home from a party at 11:00. I played a video game for a couple hours. I finished the game. I could have gone to bed. But the idea for this blog post has been bugging me the last couple days, so I’m writing it down.

I need to write.

I’m writing.

So there.

It’s not the most inspirational, awesome piece of prose that I’ve written this year, but like I said, anything worth doing is worth doing badly. So here I am with my bad writing.

And now that I’ve hit 650 words, I’m going to bed.

Thanks for reading.

Posted in growth | 2 Comments

Gutter Spirituality

Posted on December 13, 2010 by Craig

The other day, a friend posted this video on their facebook page:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EPJAHxEssHA
The video is about Narayanan Krishnan, who lives in India. In this 2-minute video, he tells his story: He used to work for a nice hotel in Bangalore. Then one day in 2002, he passed an old man on the street who was starving. He was moved by compassion. He quit his job and now serves food to the hungry full-time. He also cuts their hair, washes them and gives them a shave.

He saw a need. He was moved by compassion. He works to fill the need.

I was inspired.

Someone else shared this video on facebook the other day:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=haCwOxgWOCU

You don’t have to watch the whole thing. It doesn’t get any better at the end.

In this second video, a lady talks randomly on her webcam about alien invasions and global conspiracies. It actually sounds very spiritual, in a “new age” kind of way. In fact, lots of spiritual people talk about this type of thing. It’s all the rage in spiritual circles to talk about aliens, crop circles, global conspiracies, shifts in planetary consciousness, etc, etc. Some of it is just crazy talk. But actually a lot of what “new age” people stand for, can be useful in inspiring us to change our thinking to a more peaceful state of consciousness in which we all get along and love one another.

What bothers me, though, is that a lot of the “spiritual” talk is just that – talk.

Of the two videos, I found the one of the Indian man to be far more “spiritual” in nature. Sure, he talks about very physical issues (like fecal matter) and doesn’t say anything about angels or God or global shifts in consciousness. The only time he mentions religion is to say how much of a hindrance it is to his work. But Krishnan’s story is about bringing our lofty spiritual ideals down into the physical world, where we are – right here – right now – and treating all human beings with compassion in very concrete ways.

Regular readers may notice that, despite my Eastern-mystical way of looking at the world, I tend to bring up biblical stories and quote Jesus. That’s because I was raised on that, and I still think Jesus had a lot of good things to say. One story that fits here is the story of the “Good Samaritan.” To summarize: a religious debater asks Jesus what the most important commandments are. Jesus responds: To love God and to love your neighbor.

Religious guy says, Yes, you’re right! But who exactly would this neighbor be? (Although the story isn’t clear, I suspect he’s trying to weasel his way out of loving people who are not technically his neighbors – people who live beyond a certain geographic limit, perhaps, or maybe people who he doesn’t like.)

Jesus doesn’t answer directly. Instead he tells a story of a guy who got beat up by robbers, and another guy (a foreigner) who came along and helped him. The moral of the story ends up being: it’s not about where you’re from, or your ideals, or what religion you claim, but what you do that matters.

It’s about bringing those lofty ideals of peace and love down into the dirty world of a Bangalore gutter where some old man is eating his own shit to survive, and bringing real, actual food to that man, feeding him, caring for him in actual, physical ways. It’s not about what caste the man is from, or whether he deserves to be fed, or whether the poor old man is subconsciously responsible for creating his own experience of lack.

We make spirituality real by caring for each other in real ways.

And what better time for that than Christmas?

Posted in compassion, service | 6 Comments

Meaning

Posted on November 23, 2010 by Craig

A few days ago, Mustard and his pregnant wife Moon (nicknames) were in a terrible car accident. First they lost the baby. The trauma team at the hospital managed to keep Moon alive for a few days. A loving community gathered around the family with prayers and loving thoughts and food and money.

Moon died last night.

I’ve been told that everything happens for a reason. But what reason? Moon and her baby died because of trauma sustained in a car accident. That’s the reason. But meaning? What meaning could there be in a tragedy like this? What “reason” could possibly excuse the death of a prolific young artist so beloved by so many people, and the stillborn death of her child?

My mind wants meaning. My mind wants to know why. What karma led to this? What grander purpose? What universal plan? What god?

The mind cannot comprehend events like this. What the mind can comprehend is an edited version. The film is modified to fit your screen. The mind takes out the disturbing bits, adds in hope and meaning like mortar in the cracks, and presents it in such a way so it does not shatter the mind’s fair and reasonable world.

But there is grief here. Grief and pain. Grief, pain and so much love. Love for Moon. Love for her baby. Love for her husband and the family and the community fabric torn by this loss.

The heart feels it. The heart does not have an answer. There is no meaning here. No grander purpose, no fairness, no, nothing like that. Only grief, pain and so much love.

And the response is not to try and make sense of it, or make it better. We can’t make it better. We can’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt. But the heart and the community and the heart of the community responds with compassion, bringing this one candle of light into the darkness of grief and loss. Compassion does not die. It only shines brighter in the darkness.

This is not to say it’s okay now because we have love. This is not a reason. This is not something for the mind to grasp on to. The mind cannot own love. I have to let go of that.

I’m just trying to be here. To be here and allow compassion to flow through me, through the community and into the hearts of each one that needs it.

It’s just so overwhelming. Every day I’m faced with a tremendous need for healing in my world. Just today I got an email from a friend who has been diagnosed with cancer. I want her to be all better. I don’t want to live in a world of cancer and car accidents. I resist. I want to try and figure it out so that I can stop painful things from happening. I want to control my life so pain has no chance to creep in.

But no matter how hard my mind works to keep everything under control, sickness and death win out. And I don’t know what to do. I’ve had two years of training in the healing arts and I’m supposed to know what to do, and I’m supposed to do it. I’m supposed to do something for people that need healing. But so many times, it feels so inconsequential compared to the need. There isn’t much I can do most of the time.

All I can do is… not to do but to be. To be here now. To allow my heart to open up to my community and let compassion flow through it. And then, hopefully (beyond all hope), I will find something to do that comes out of the overflow of the heart.

I don’t know if this will make any difference, but I’ll do it anyway. I’m posting a link to a site where you can make donations to cover the family’s hospital bills. Moon had some very talented doctors looking after her, and they did everything they could to save her. Unfortunately, even though she is gone, a grieving family has some big bills to pay. I’m sure anything would be appreciated.
http://moonmustard.blogspot.com/

And that’s all I have to say for now.

Posted in compassion, healing | 6 Comments

Skin

Posted on October 19, 2010 by Craig

One night, 4-year-old Jamie woke up from a nightmare, and called to his daddy to comfort him. Dad went in, sat down on the bed, listened patiently as his son told him about the nightmare, and did his best to comfort him. Jamie started feeling better, but wanted his dad to stay for a while, until he got back to sleep. Needing sleep himself, daddy told his son not to worry – that the angels would look after him, all night long, and that God would never leave him alone.

“I know,” Jamie said. “But I need someone with skin.”

No matter how “spiritual” we become, we still have this situation of being in our bodies, in a material world. And while spiritual traditions may teach us that the soul is more important than the body in the context of eternity, those same traditions also teach us the importance of expressing our spirituality in our physicality.

On one hand, our bodies provide resistance training for us, giving us challenges to overcome in the form of cravings, emotions and addictions – and scriptures from all traditions urge us to overcome the “lust of the flesh” with the power of spirit. And they also look forward to the day when we can be free from the limitations of our bodies, and graduate into the blissful realm of pure spirit.

On the other hand, our souls need our bodies. A story about the Buddha illustrates this: After he attained enlightenment, he practiced strict asceticism. Preaching that the desires of the body are illusory and must be overcome with discipline, he denied himself the basics of physical survival. On the verge of starvation, he realized that, even if our bodies are less important than spirit, if our bodies don’t survive, then our spirits can’t stay around here on earth to continue learning and growing. Our spirits need these bodies to experience life on earth and learn from it.

No matter how spiritual we become, as long as we’re here, we experience life through the body. We are here to experience life and express our spirituality in the flesh.

As I mentioned in my post Love vs. Belief, Jesus Christ himself ministered to people in very physical ways, and taught the importance of physical action. He fed the hungry and healed the sick. He taught that our lives would be judged based on how we cared for each other physically – providing food and clothing to the poor, for example. Jesus taught that physical reality can be altered by spiritual power, but he always demonstrated spiritual power in physical ways.

Religion aside, us humans, whether religious or not, express our spirituality in physical action all the time. “Making love” does not mean conjuring up a belief about love, or expressing love in words, but rather getting right into the act of pleasuring another human being in very physical and intimate ways.

Love, community and joyful celebration are often celebrated with food. Parents care for their children by providing and preparing good food for them. Weddings are notorious for the consumption of food and wine. Family gatherings would not exist without plenty of food. Feeding one another is an expression of love and nurture that is very tangible.

But back to skin. Touch is an expression of love that we sometimes shy away from, since it has sometimes been abused by selfish people, and we don’t want it to be misinterpreted. And puritanical religions sometimes make us fearful of touching one another.

But our bodies were made to touch each other. We need touch. There were scientific experiments that demonstrated this in the middle of the last century, which you may have heard about. Doctors separated newborn babies into two groups: those that would receive only the nutrition and material comforts necessary for survival, but no human contact or touch, and those that would be held and touched the way we normally hold babies.

The doctors predicted that there would be some difference in the well-being of the babies, but they underestimated it terribly. They cancelled the experiment half-way through, when they found large numbers of babies dying without any obvious medical reason, other than that they did not get adequate human contact. It was scientifically proven that human beings need touch for their very survival.

In what ways can you express your spiritual beliefs in physical practice? What is one physical way you can express love by helping another human being today?

Hugs are a good place to start.

I know I could use a few.

Posted in religion, service | 2 Comments

Do you want to be healed?

Posted on September 5, 2010 by Craig

Three buddies are sitting at the bar one Friday afternoon, and in walks Jesus Christ.

“Hey, it’s Jesus!” Mike says, as Bob and Larry turn around to look. “Hey, why don’t you join us?”

Jesus walks over and takes a seat, and Mike orders a round. As they get talking, Jesus asks them if there’s anything he could help them with. “Actually, maybe you can help me,” Mike says. “I have this problem with my shoulder – it’s hard to work on stuff above chest level. It’s holding me back at my job.”

Jesus puts his hands on Mike’s shoulder, and Mike’s eyes light up. Immediately he raises his arm over his head and gets a huge grin on his face. “Wow! This is amazing! It’s totally healed! I can move my arm like never before!”

Jesus turns to Bob, and Bob can hardly wait. “My knee,” he says. “It’s getting harder to get up and down ladders. I would really appreciate it if you could help me out!”

The Good Lord puts his hand on Bob’s knee, and Bob’s face lights up as he stands up, walks around, and bends his knee. “Oh my God! It’s totally healed! I have never felt better!”

As Jesus turns to Larry, Larry scrambles away from the table in a panic.

“Don’t come near me!” Larry shouts. “I’m on Disability!”

The original version of the joke had nationalities attached to the characters, but I did not think it was fair to limit Larry’s character to one stereotype. We all have an inner Larry. Or at least, I know I do. He likes to step in when I’m faced with the prospect of working through something that is holding me back, so that I can move forward and risk my efforts on a new venture.

Ugh. Risk. Larry hates risk. And Larry hates work. In fact, Larry even hates success.

Larry is not so easy to spot. When I feel injured, limited or powerless, it seems only logical that my inability to get stuff done is beyond my control. “I can’t go to work – I’m sick” or, “I’ve been hurt too many times – I can’t get into a new relationship.” Et cetera.

But back to our other friend at the bar.

Biblical stories say that when Jesus went to heal someone (whether or not you believe the stories), he always asked, “Do you want to be healed?”

It seems silly to ask a lame beggar if he wants to be able to walk again, but seriously? If I made all my money from sitting around at the city gates while people tossed money at me, while they all had to go and work their butts off in the field? Being lame would be an asset! Would I want to be healed? Maybe – and maybe not.

The possibilities for healing that I encounter in my life are more subtle. I am not blind, deaf, lame or otherwise handicapped. I have a good mind, a mobile body and general good health. But I have other stuff that I suffer from: episodes of depression that I have struggled with for years, for example. This is an illness that holds me back, but it is one that I could deal with more effectively if I wanted to.

This afternoon, I joined some friends in a healing circle. I was reminded of the lesson I was just talking about – that although I want to be healed in theory, when my handicaps are taken away, so are my excuses. And then I am faced with the daunting path before me – risking everything to pursue my dreams. As long as I am not healed, I have an excuse to avoid the risks. I do not have to have courage if I remain lame, and begging at the city gates.

Tonight is Burn Night. In a few minutes from now, as I finish writing this, a giant effigy of a Man will go up in flames in the middle of the Black Rock Desert in northern Nevada. About 45,000 people will watch it burn. I have a live webcast open on my desktop.

I wish I was there. But due to decisions I’ve made over the last couple years, it became too difficult for me to go. I sold my ticket to a friend a few weeks ago. I am grieving the loss. My heart is there, in the heat of the desert, breathing the dusty wind and dancing with friends closer than family, while my body is here in cold, rainy Calgary.

It was four years ago that I went to my first Burn. It was Burning Man 2006: “Hope and Fear: The Future.” I went without knowing why – only that I needed to experience this strange festival. I asked people why they burn this effigy in the desert, but nobody could give me a satisfactory answer.

That night, four years ago, I found the truth in those flames – a heart-felt truth that could only come from experience, from participating in this huge tribal ritual with thousands of other Burners. I found out why they burn the Man. Or at least, I found out my reason why.

I saw in that Man, with his upraised neon arms, all that I had given power to, my whole life. I saw the shackles I had taken on, the authority figures I had bowed to, the self-sabotage. I saw myself as the lame man at the gates, but there by my own choice, having given away my strength to people and circumstances outside myself. I had sold myself into slavery.

And there in front of me stood the personification of the Man – my slave owner, my tormenter, my stolen power and all that I had lost.

And then I saw him go up in flames.

As the Man burned, so did my shackles. As flames vaporized his wicker skin and took the strength from his wooden arms, that powerful tormenter was reduced to ashes. I realized that the tormenter I had sold myself to, really had no power over me that I did not give it. My life is my own.

I took my power back that night.

And here I am, four years later, watching the Man’s arms rise up, and the flames light up the darkness. And I have to take back my power yet again.

And again.

And again.

Posted in growth, healing | 10 Comments