January 18, 2009

What a momentous time this is, both for our country and for each of us individually. Some dramatic changes are underway that seem scary and exciting.

It’s not only financial markets that have collapsed; it’s also the philosophy that gave money the precedence over all else. With the politics of division crumbling, spaces are opening for new approaches. Divisive me – first politics and trash-the-planet-to-make-money economics are on the way out.

So what ideas and guiding principles will take their place?

In times of chaos, those who are clear about what’s important, who listen and create inclusive conversations, and who work across race, class, gender, and age lines, may have far more influence than they imagine.

This is a time when new ideas and structures can take root and quickly flourish in the spaces left vacant by dying hidebound institutions. When we make choices that rely less on fossil fuels, global finance, and long supply chains and more on conservation, savings, and local production, we become less vulnerable to crises and more resilient in recovery from them. What once looked to the larger society like “hippie” behavior from the far-out fringe, now simply looks smart.

May we base this new world, this new era that we’re entering into, not on fear and exclusion, but on our sense of connection, joy, and gratitude. And in order for this new era to happen, everything had to break right. And for that we will someday owe sincere thanks to John McCain and Sarah Palin and George W. Bush. They not only screwed it up, they screwed it up just right.

When a new year begins, I tend to become more philosophical. I think of what I’ve learned and what lies ahead. My life’s lessons are much more subtle than they used to be. I used to have to be hit over the head with a “two-by-four” (losses, prison, etc), but now it’s like a gentle nudge.

If we don’t yet trust that every situation is a lesson, then we don’t bother to ask ourselves what the lesson is. And unless we do, our chances of learning from it are nil. Then the lesson will reappear – with ever higher stakes – until we learn it. The more times a lesson has to come around, the more pain it will generate. If we know in our heart that something is wrong, then ignoring it won’t make it any less so. It will simply make fixing it even harder, when it is brought about by a louder noise than the original sound of the whisper in our ear. My hope is that we can all hear that whisper and act upon that gentle nudge.

And thinking of another kind of nudge, Ralphie (Tom’s pretend dog) is nudging me with his nose and saying that he wants to speak to us. I should know better than this, but it’s a new year, so I’ll ask him what he wants.

“What is it, Ralphie?”

“Did you hear about the dog that was in an accident and his whole left side was cut off?”

“That’s awful, Ralphie!”

“Not really. He’s all right now.”

I think I must have received a “bad pun gene” from Ralphie because now I’m beginning to think like he does. HELP!

There’s much we can learn from dogs, though. They seem to know that life is good. Because they don’t have egos, they appear more loving. When humans love, most of us are timid about opening our hearts all the way. The ego wonders: “Will I be hurt? Will I be loved back? Will my needs be met or will I be abandoned?” Dogs don’t have these questions. They just love.

It seems as if the more we let go, the more we experience love. Love is beyond everything else – anxiety, desire, hope. Love is open hearted, demands nothing, and needs nothing. It is more likely to visit when our desires are quiet, when we don’t need or want much, and when we accept that everything we love is not permanent but is with us at this very moment.