The road is long
With many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where
Who knows where
But I’m strong
Strong enough to carry him
………

So on we go
His welfare is of my concern
No burden is he to bear
We’ll get there

For I know
He would not encumber me
………
If I’m laden at all
THEN I’m laden with sadness
That everyone’s heart
Isn’t filled with the gladness
Of love for one another

It’s a long, long road
From which there is no return
While we’re on the way to there
Why not share

And the load
Doesn’t weigh me down at all
……

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Our lives are made of many blueprints. We have a blueprint for our appearance; whether it’s a snappy suit or a grungy pair of jeans, wether it’s brown hair or pink, whether it’s Revlon or tatoos, it’s all part of the blueprint.

We have a blueprint for our day - some of us plan it to the minute while others purposely plan nothing at all. Still a blueprint. We have a blueprint about our work, our career, our interactions, our relationships, our meals, our protests, agreements, savings, retirement, car, house, neighborhood, parenting. Blueprint! Blueprint! Blueprint!

We’re in control. We set the stage. We run the show. We pull the strings. Or do we??? After all, what are these blueprints but a series of elements to give us a sense of control and security where none really exists.

Till death do us part. I’ll never leave. I’ll love you forever. You can count on me. Trust me. Take that to the bank. I’ll be there. I’m with you all the way. I’ve got your back. Sweet words most, but all empty. We have no control at all. It is merely an illusion to maintain our sanity and outward composure. A crutch to pacify our fear.

But we prattle on with our lives pretending these blueprints are right on track. Pretending that they matter at all. There is however, only one relevant blueprint. And that is the larger blueprint. Oddly enough, none of us can access that larger blueprint and if I’ve overlooked someone who can access it reading it appears to be problematic.

Yet it is there. Like air we cannot feel it.  Like love we cannot define it. But it is there. That larger blueprint means “all things for a reason” (even though you may never be able to “see” that reason). Some call it faith, Divine intervention, G-d. The purpose of the larger blueprint? Maybe it’s a thump on the head, a rattle to your cage, a lesson for your growth on the soul’s path in the physical body. Some I suppose ignore it hoping to crawl back in the safe, warm confines of illusion (the one where you’re in control).

For those who acknowledge a bigger truth than their own, there is a bounty which I can only describe as “reduced suffering”. And perhaps that too is part of the bigger blueprint - one we rarely give ourselves over to fully.

Consider today that there is something higher than you. Consider that life may just be about tossing yourself into the fray bravely with no knowing whatsoever and that life’s greatest excitement is riding that larger blueprint without having to control anything at all.

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“Eleventh hour rescues are unimpressive” he said.

Who Joseph is or was is really not important. This isn’t about him. Though I suppose he often made a lot of sense with the insightful comments he made regarding the human condition.

No. It’s a about the last hour. The eleventh hour. Just sixty minutes before the stroke of midnight. A last-ditch effort to save the day. Joseph may have been saying they don’t matter. But I don’t think so. I think he was simply saying not to get to carried away with your self-promotion about a rescue that late in the game.

It seems there are two options to an eleventh hour rescue. And only one of those is still available AT the eleventh hour! So the first option is no rescue at all. That is the response of a person who does not care (presuming they are not being held against their will, of course). It matters so little to them that a rescue was neither prudent in the first hours nor in the waning ones. Their lack of interest is deeply reflected in the absence of any effort whatsoever.

The second choice is an earlier rescue. A rescue all along. One that seems “in time” or synchronistic. But that choice is unavailable at the eleventh hour, now isn’t it. And perhaps that is what makes the eleventh hour rescue so unimpressive to Joseph and those like him. 

But we may be trying an earlier rescue. We may not be late-comers to the party. We may be battling in the only way(s) we know how and we’re still battling. Still in there. Still swingin’. Maybe we’re swinging the wrong bat or swinging at the wrong ball or facing the wrong way or perhaps we’re not wearing a batting helmet, but we are swinging nonetheless. 

So maybe Joseph was right. Maybe it is not impressive. But it still counts, if only in my own mind.

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It was on a recent visit back East that I sat down with a friend of mine from some 20 years ago. She spoke of her marriage and how her partner told her she was just “too sensitive”. To me, this sort of sentence reflects the opposite of the very direction human beings need to go for mindful growth. There is, in fact, very little human growth possible in a condition of reduced sensitivity. Yes it may be more difficult to get hurt by others but it is merely crafty avoidance, not effective coping.

It is our task, if you will, to become far more sensitive - sensitive to our own feelings, sensitive to the feelings of others, sensitive to our surroundings, and sensitive to the planet. It is through this heightened sensitivity that we can begin to have more harmonious lives. As that sensitivity is refined and embraced it is a quieter life which then nurtures us. What are YOU doing that increases your sensitivity?

Many believe the choice of sitting by a lake on a sunny day instead of attending a crowded festival is a choice to not fully live life. But it is just the opposite. It is the bombardment of stimuli, the sea of humans, the cornucopia of noises, the aromas of pipes, cigars, cigarettes, perfumes, chemicals…it is these things that burden an already overloaded sensory mechanism. 

There is a problem however. And that problem is that we are addicted to being overstimulated. We are addicted to multitasking; incessant doing, chatter, scheduling, achievement, movies, videos, telephones, buzzers, and music. So we crave that and we feel an enormous void when we are not center stage in the world’s bombardment. We are “bored”. Bored does not exist. It is merely a condition where one’s stimuli tolerance is not being exceeded by current conditions. It is not a lack of something to do or something to experience.

I am not suggesting the life of a hermit, though there are certainly some advantages to living such a life. I am suggesting an unplugging from the matrix of overstimulation. I am suggesting that what suits us best when we are on the path of becoming more sensitive beings, is more quiet time, more reflective time, more time in which we are not shoveling ourselves into the gale force wind of overstimulation.

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In Hebrew the word is bashert. It is one’s soul mate. Maybe you believe in it and maybe you don’t. But it doesn’t really matter. I mean maybe you believe in air and maybe you don’t but it’s still there. Maybe you believe the earth is flat and maybe you don’t but it’s still round. No matter what you believe about a soul mate, you’ve got one. Is it one or a hundred? That I will not answer. 

Now beware! The concept of a soul mate is not well taught to us. It is not well communicated. It is frequently misunderstood and subject to the same Laws of Neurosis that, say your prized possession is subject to. And so we’re left to our own devices even though we’ve proven time and time again that our own devices aren’t always so, well, accurate. 

So we erroneously believe a soul mate provides a bliss state. And in that way we’ve reduced our soul mate to the flavor of the week. We’ve allowed it to be subject to something as easily manipulated by the brain as “taste”. A good sense, taste is, but it is colored by the crafty fellow known as the brain.

And this is how some select their yoga practice as well. Oh that yoga made me feel so woozy. That yoga gave me so much energy. That yoga made me so peaceful. That yoga, that yoga, that yoga…

It is, often enough if not every single time, the exact opposite. It is the frisky work, the edgy stuff, the jagged rock, it is the traffic jam, it is the crowded street, it is heated argument with someone you love, it is a spot of tea on your new white garment, it is sour milk or rotten eggs. It stinks. And that is exactly where the evolution begins. For it is only in the face of a gale force that character is revealed. And, get this part, our growth as mindfully evolving beings is to find the immense joy in the stench. 

Sure some innocent bystander could push the occasional button on us. Yes a buddy might contribute to our evolutionary process. Sure a teacher can guide us along the path. But the soul mate, a humdinger of a mirror.

Disagree? Sure you do. You can’t help it. I’ve baited you and you can’t resist. 

Surely we cannot be so clouded as to think the work of evolving could possibly be to find the sense of joy in joy (see Get Real). Surely we could not believe the worthwhile is easy? Haven’t we learned at least that? Relationships, the one area where everyone wants to excel and no one wants to do the work to get there. It may turn out to be one of the most profound ironies of our meager existence. 

The depth of our ignorance cannot run THAT deep, can it? And if it does we must stop it as surely as we must stop killing one another. For without that stopping we are certainly doomed to nothing more than a passing fancy or the flavor of the week.

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BG III:30, 31; Krishna to Arjuna

Surrender all actions to me,
and fix your reason on your inner self;
without hope or possessiveness,
your fever subdued, fight the battle!

Men who always follow my thought,
trusting it without finding fault,
are freed
even by their actions.

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The journey began as colleagues, cohorts, agents on a mission. In some ways we were looking for the same thing, though we may have been going about it differently.

Somehow we were thrust together to help each other to discover the truth, as it is “out there”. There were some awkward moments along the way. There was some bickering. Some days we couldn’t be apart and other days we could not stand to be with each other.

Some provided us clues to the Truth. Others got in the way. There was often mystery and danger. Many times it appeared we were so close and other times it was obvious that the following week would hold more in store for us. 

There were many episodes and many, many characters. Sometimes your health seemed in danger. That frightened us both. Sometimes I was brash and lunged forward or backward carelessly. 

You thought I was a wacko often believing in something we could not see or touch. You also thought I detested your paradigm and that it was a form of disrespect, a burden, an impediment to my progress (see quote below).

And you tried to tell me so. And so I had to clarify…

“But you saved me! As difficult and frustrating as it’s been sometimes, your goddamned strict rationalism and science have saved me a thousand times over! You’ve kept me honest…you’ve made me a whole person. I owe you everything and you owe me nothing.”

Today I pulled my TV out of storage to watch game 7 of the Celtics/Cavs NBA playoffs. And as I was scooting around between plays I stumbled upon this absolutely profound experience. Who am I talking about?

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