I had an interesting day today. Didn’t we all? Mine had a slight twist on it, though. My morning started out with an amazing conversation about death and life and collapse and, really, what’s it all about Alfie.
Lately, I’ve been hosting online “navigation sessions” based on the sociocracy 3.0 model. We do them once a week and it’s on a free, drop-in basis hosted on Zoom. It’s usually a group of between four and eight folks with a rotating cast of characters, some who come almost all the time, others who pop in and out.
We use a circle process with six rounds:
- Check-in — a rotating question just to help everyone land ‘here and now.’
- What’s your current tension? It could be a frustration or problem. Or it could be something that just doesn’t make sense. The main point is that it’s something that you’re upset about — whatever that is.
- Having heard everyone’s tension, what do you notice? What stands out to you?
- What are the drivers? What is going on under the surface? What are the forces or motivations that are crashing together here?
- What’s the “so what?” How do we make sense of this? What are the lessons we can learn here?
- Check-out — what’s one word to describe how you’re feeling right now or what’s something you want to take away with you today?
Today, there were six of us. Our tensions ranged from friends facing mortal threats to the frustrations of dealing with appliance repair men. Somehow, this odd assortment of challenges led us to questions about why death is such a taboo and what it means to speak authentically.
There was magic in that Zoom call. And that’s part of the point. Some of you will hear magic and roll your eyes. I used to be you. But once you experience it — real magic / real connection— something starts to happen. You start to grok all those ideas you always wanted to believe but were afraid of.
I think my main take-away from today’s conversation was this whole idea of taboo. Why are these things taboo: collapse. grief. death. anxiety. separation. longing. authenticity. Why is it scary to simply say what it is you experience? The hopes? The fears? The things that just feel wrong?
Who gains from this? Who loses?
Well, we lose. You and I. The ones who feel. The ones who have seen the magic and get it. We stay silent. We worry that there’s no one out there like us. That everyone will point and stare and turn away. That is the primordial fear. The one that looms larger even than death. We don’t care that we die; we care that we don’t matter.
So, I left that conversation a bit battered, to be honest, by the honesty of the conversation. My part of the check-out round was something like “I’m feeling all the feels all at once.” It’s a hard feeling to explain if you’ve never felt it. If you get it, you already know what I’m talking about. Not bad, but not pleasant, yet also good.
To those of you who haven’t felt it yet, all I can say is what if all the things you were most afraid to ask for we’re yours for the asking? What if you realized all at once: the scariest thing you could imagine is also the most important thing for you to do?
There comes a time when you step across the threshold and you enter a place beyond what you can imagine. There are no scripts. There is no protocol. Just you, acting. So, what kind of strength would it to take to step over that threshold?
And then, news came.
The capital of the US was overrun by domestic terrorist egged on by the sitting president of the US who recently lost a free and fair election, but is threatening not to transfer power.
Oh, and by the way, the Democrats won the senate.
For those of you who don’t actually know me, I maybe among the first refugees of the US. I’m sure historians will debate if the first wave actually started with the draft dodgers, but nevertheless I left when George II was elected president of the US. Nagging suspicions continued to be confirmed and it seemed clear and obvious that the writing was on the wall. All the while, I worried that I was being an alarmist or over-reacting, but then Donald Trump. Pretty much that’s what I was afraid would happen.
So, it seems like this is the time for me to come out; to put insight from this morning’s conversation into practice this evening.
Here is my truth. I am an apocaloptimist: the reckoning has come, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.
First, the bad news. This thing, whatever you want to call it, is bigger than you and it’s bigger (in a way) than all of us — or at least, it’s bigger than those of us who can read the writing on the wall.
Many of our companions on this planet, including people in your neighbourhood, maybe even members of your family, don’t, can’t and won’t “get it.” They have been consumed by consumerism. Their conscience is so decayed they have no sense of shame over the destruction they cause, the harm they do — even though it degrades their days, they simply lash out at others thinking somehow that they can just ship their misery on to others.
They will never “wake up” no matter what you do. Instead, they will lash out and attack the messenger, the message, and reality itself. It’s completely unfair, I know, but there are enough idiots out there willing to sink the ship if they can’t be in charge to take us all down.
And you can’t stop it.
The house of cards is collapsing and it will affect you. Things will get harder. You will soon come to understand what an “oil slave” is and how much you depended on it. And the needless, pointless violence that acts as “emotional processing” for the completely benighted will encroach. A wounded animal is the most dangerous. It doesn’t care if you are trying to help it, it will simply lash out.
But here is the good news. Finally, at last, as the system of control starts to flicker and fail, you can live the time you have left the way you have always been called to live it. The terminal diagnosis brings with it a rare liberation. The threats no longer hold power over you, nor the treats. You can do what you always intended to do.
There is irony at the heart of spirituality. Pursing happiness is the surest way to prevent yourself from finding it. Serving others is the surest way to satisfy your basic self interest. The things we fear the most have the most to offer us.
I have a hard time believing it myself, but all of the great wisdom masters tell us that we really have nothing to lose and everything to gain by letting go of our preconceived notions of what’s “supposed” to happen and instead depend on our own inner light.
And irony of ironies, if we let go of any preconceived notions of what’s supposed to happen and instead do what feels, in our heart of hearts and our soul of souls, like the right thing to do (not the convenient, or easy, or expected), then maybe, just maybe, what’s “supposed” to happen will actually come to pass.
That, at least, is my hope on what feels like a very dark night.
