The Spiritual Warrior

I'm a terrible "blogger."  You'd think that the vanity of having my own "domain" and website, with my own blog, with my own devoted reader(s?), would be enough to keep me writing on a more regular basis.  Apparently not. 

I've actually been on a pilgrimage of sorts since the middle of January, in search of the next place to land after my New York City lease expired, crystal clear on the overall "big picture" mission of my life yet beautifully in the dark about what God or the Universe would put before me as a specific "next step."

My poor friends and family have watched helplessly as I have, with absurd rapidity, flitted from inspiration to inspiration, sifting through opportunities until a few took truly solid form and placed me (as of Monday, March 15th) back in good, old Raleigh, North Carolina--where I first started the "adult leg" of my spiritual journey as a freshman at Duke back in the fall of 1996.

Perhaps I will retrace my steps some day and attempt to relate some of the more beautiful moments and encounters with which I've been blessed over the past two months.  For now, I have a pressing "inspiration" to relate that happened today and made it imperative that rather than going home and getting some much needed sleep (since I've been sick all week) I go straight to Uncle Vanya's Russian restaurant, grab some black bread, caviar, and a Baltica beer, and share what I can of what seems most important from today.

While working today (for my new company--more about that another time) I received a Facebook notification about an event at St. Paul's Catholic Church.  The esteemed James Martin, SJ (that means he's a Jesuit Priest) was giving a talk about his latest book, The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything.  I was already scheduled to get together tonight with my friend Adam, who is probably the most genuine male friend I've made in New York in the two years I've been here.  Adam doesn't have much interest in the church, so we are now going to hang out on Saturday.  It seemed very important that if I had a chance to learn more about St. Ignatius Loyola, I had better take it.  Adam, good man that he is, was supportive and accomodating. 

Let me tell you why St. Ignatius Loyola, and Fr. Jim's book about how the great saint can still be relevant in our lives, are so important.

Will Willimon, who was the Dean of the Duke Chapel when I was an undergraduate and who singlehandedly kept me connected to the Christian Church through his wonderful mentorship, once told me a story about the "Introduction to Jesus" seminar he used to teach to Duke freshmen.  

There was a football player taking the class who had never read the Bible nor been a Christian.  I have no idea why this guy was taking the course (easy A?), but he apparently got very engaged with the text.  At one point he stopped the class with a question and asked, "Dr. Willimon, I don't understand it.  We are reading all of these stories about Jesus, and he was a badass!  He threw over the tables of the moneylenders in the synagogue.  He called men away from their jobs during the middle of the day, and they followed him.  He publicly called all of the hypocritical leaders of his community vipors and snakes.  He even went knowingly to his own torture and death without a single complaint.  So what I don't get is...  how come all of the Christians I meet are such pussies???"

Amen, football player dude, amen. 

St. Ignatius Loyola gives us a way around this unfortunate problem, which I have experiencde in nearly every spiritual circle in which I have ever traveled.  It is an indisputable fact that Christianity and Western Civiliation in general have been dumbed down, immasculated, and rendered nearly inert compared to earlier heights at which they once functioned.  Those post-modernists who are obsessed with their own narcissistic ability to deconstruct anything in their path may take delight in this thorough devolution, but I don't. 

I'm perfectly willing to concede that the Church, the West, and the White Man have all committed terrible crimes against humanity--and that sucks.  But I see no reason to take that obvious fact and "leap" to the conclusion that all of the things from the Big Evil Three are bad--or to get even more facile and conclude that everything is now merely relative.

For people like myself--and granted there may not be many of us--who find ourselves with a healthy level of testosterone and a deep need to channel our inherent aggression into something more interesting than sex or money, St. Ignatius Loyola serves as a hero and a model for how pride, vanity, ambition, and pure drive can be sublimated into a life full of determination, love, brilliant scholarship, and selfless service. 

As Fr. Jim describes so well, Ignatius Loyola started out as a wealthy, narcissistic, hot-headed, women-seducing jerk.  Kind of like how I imagine the stereotypical frat boy wishes he could be.  Yet through a leg injury and a few well placed books about the lives of the saints and of Jesus of Nazereth, Loyola was transformed into a "contemplative in action," founding an entire religious order and ultimately changing the world.  Throughout his transformation, however, he remained always a MAN, in the very best sense of the word.  Strong yet humble, courageous yet tender, selfless yet true to himself, doing everything in his power to serve God's will while always realizing and accepting that his efforts may lead to nothing.

Thomas Merton has become another beautifully masculine hero of mine, and in Mystics and Zen Masters he talks about the Jesuits in China, inspired of course by Loyola and led by Matthew Ricci, SJ.   Merton describes Ricci as a man who "divested himself of all that belonged to his own race and adopted all the good customs and attitudes of the land to which he had been sent..."  who , "like Jesus, 'emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant,' and, like St. Paul, became 'all things to all men.'"

I don't want to spend any time defending Christianity or mission work in this piece.  But I do want to pay homage to these men, these mensches, who found what they believed was a noble calling to serve and who sought to fulfill that calling, not with arrogant condescension, but with deep respect for the world in which they found themselves and the people with whom they lived.  I still, quite frankly, don't know what, if anything, I can share with the world that would be of value.  The years I have dedicated to a search for Truth and the Illumination with which I was blessed last year seem to demand that I share what I believe I have learned.

For now, I simply want to continue to integrate those world-shattering experiences while modeling myself after these spiritual heroes who have come before me, and by whom my heart is captivated.  If I ever am called to "teach" or, better yet, to simply share the gifts with which I have been blessed, I hope that I will hold fast to the Jesuit ideal that Merton, Martin, and others so beautifully portray. 

Please Won't You Be--My Neighbor?

Growing up in Pittsburgh gives one an especially deep love for Mister Rogers, his neighborhood, and all of the wonderful neighbors who resided in it.  For 30 minutes out of each day, I didn’t have to worry about anything because I was with all of my friends—Mr. Rogers himself, Mr. McFeely, King Friday XIII, Queen Sarah Saturday, Prince Tuesday, Daniel the Tiger, and everyone else who either lived in the “real” neighborhood of Mister Rogers, or in the Neighborhood of Make-Believe, which he so magnificently created in each new episode.   

I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be a friend, because this past year was so difficult that I needed friends more than I ever have before in my life.  I have developed a definition of friendship that I really love, and I hope that people who read this will let me know what they think of it. 

In my best “Ken Wilber” style, I break friendship down into five aspects or components—all of which should be present in at least some degree for one to truly have a “friendship.”  They are:

1. An effortless and spontaneous “attraction” to the other person, whenever one sees that person, thinks about that person, or hears from that person.  The best historical example of this took place in the Gospels, when John the Baptist “leapt for joy” in his mother’s womb the moment Mary entered their home.  John was utterly joyful to finally be in the presence of his Lord, Jesus the Christ, and he showed it in the only way he could.  We experience this in different ways, but I know for a fact that when a friend calls me, I can’t help but smile—whereas when someone who simply wants something from me calls, I cringe—and send them to voice mail.
2. An ongoing mutual knowledge and understanding of one another.  I have a very spontaneous attraction to both Catherina Zeta Jones and Sienna Miller, but since I don’t know much about either of them, and neither of them even knows I exist, we’re not friends.  Yet when I meet someone for the first time, the more I get to know and understand that person, and vice-versa, the deeper connection we can have.  Without at least some knowledge of one another we’re just enjoying each other’s appearances, which is nice, but not worth a whole hell of a lot. 
3. Number 3 is actually most important, so it takes central position on this list, rather than the top position.  The most important aspect of friendship—without which friendship cannot and does not exist, is a willingness to put aside one’s own self interest for the interests of one’s friend.  My friend, Baran, demonstrated this in a small way the other day when he bought me a root beer.  This is of course a somewhat trivial example, but that’s why I like it.  It’s very easy to understand that Baran had, in his wallet, $1.83, which he was free to spend on anything he wanted to buy.  Instead of buying something for himself, he sacrificed that $1.83 for me, so that I could have a root beer.  What is the ultimate sign of friendship?  Well that’s easy—it’s when you give your life to save your friend’s life. 
4. I originally only had 3 things, but like I said, I’m a fan of Ken Wilber and so I’m never content to keep things simple if I can further elucidate them.  I think #4 and #5 are important, so I’m including them at the risk of losing the few readers I have.  Here’s #4:  A set of shared values that form the basis for mutual trust and respect.  It’s important to distinguish between shared values (such as freedom of thought and expression) and simply “looking just like each other and agreeing with each other” about everything.  This is what allows me to include among my friends fundamentalist Christians—even though I am not a fundamentalist Christian, liberal democrats—even though I am not a liberal democrat, gay men and women—even though I am not gay, and men and women of color—even though I am quite possibly the whitest man on the planet. 
5. And last but not least: shared experiences, particularly when friends are working towards a common goal and facing shared adversity.  Very few people will be as “close” to me—no matter how much time we spend together and how much we love each other—as those who worked with me, side by side, building the Self Knowedge Symposium community in the Raleigh-Durham area of North Carolina.  This was my all-abiding passion for 10 long years starting in the fall of my freshman year at Duke, and I feel the same way about that experience that war veterans feel about the wars in which they fought—if you weren’t there, you simply don’t understand.  See #2 for more on the “understanding” part of friendship.

The beauty of my definition of friendship is that it helps me explain to myself virtually all of the relationships I have in my life. 

For example, most parents would score a perfect 100% on both #1 and #3, because we all love our kids more than anything in the world and we would all be willing to sacrifice our lives for them in a heartbeat.  The problem for parents is that we screw up #2, #4, and #5—and it’s the classic problem that every child has with his or her parents once we reach puberty:  “You don’t really know me!!!” 

As another example, the perfection of these 5 aspects of friendship is nothing less than marriage.  If I can ever find a woman who fits the first 4 criteria of 1) mutual attraction, 2) mutual knowledge of and acceptance of one another, 3) willingness to sacrifice our lives for each other, and 4) shared values and mutual respect for each other—well you’re damn right I’m going to want to share the rest of my life with her  (#5 in case you forgot).

Too often we Americans focus on the “surface” level of things.  We do it everywhere and all the time—in our fashion, or religion, our politics, and, sadly, our relationships.  We like instant gratification and we don’t seem to understand delayed gratification.  I just hope, and pray, that we’ll all finally get so sick of the ersatz-stuffed lives we are living that we will finally start digging deeper again.  And then we can all be friends!

Enlightened Projectile Vomiting

I don't think I've made it particularly clear what I'm hoping to accomplish with this website.  That is primarily because I, myself, have no idea. 

What I do know is that after the experiences of this past year, which could perhaps best be described as "seeing how deep the rabbit hole goes," I feel utterly compelled to share and communicate, and--even more important than that--to love.  It's difficult to love people through a website, but one can certainly share and communicate things through it. 

I don't even know exactly what it is that I want to share and communicate.  Is it myself?  My new-found "wisdom?"  Something else?

One suggestion that I received from my good friend, Kenny, is that I use this as a tool to attempt to understand what exactly happened to me this year.  That way, all six people who are reading this blog can give me feedback. 

I would find that profoundly valuable, and my experiences in the past 24 hours have given me a lot to think about in this regard.

For starters, my dad asked me a month ago if I was claiming to have had a "spiritual experience."  I answered that I had no idea what exactly it was, but that ever since it happened I have found myself to be full of joy, gratitude, and love--with no need to prove anything to anyone and with a deep desire to simply be of service. 

I realize that the last sentence reads like a Hallmark card, but I can quickly temper that by adding that I have also found myself to be extremely pissed off a lot of the time.  I'm not pissed off in general, but rather, whenever I am confronted with what I consider to be BS, narcissistic egotism, condescension, phoniness, or anything else that does not strike me as "pure," I fly off the handle.  Then, like a puppy dog or an infant, I return to being my happy, joyful self the moment the "crisis" has passed.

One of the best ways to judge one's "development" is through life's tests.  I have had what I consider to be a number of very good tests over the past six months. 

First, I lost my job--which I considered to be the greatest job that any person could have in the world.  As heartbreaking as that was, I was shocked to watch myself through the process, because it honestly did not produce in me a moment of anxiety.  I knew I had done my best, and that it was primarily circumstances outside of my control that had been the primary reasons for the decision.

Second, I played golf--which for the past 10 years or so has been an agonizingly frustrating experience, since I used to shoot in the mid-70's and I now shoot around 100.  I found that even though I still tend to be "theatrical" on the course--falling over into the grass after "stubbing" a chip, letting out a moan of despair after firing a drive 50 yards out of bounds, telling myself that I am a complete moron and deserve to be shot after 3-putting for par on a par 5--I don't "suffer" anymore.  I am so grateful to be playing and have so much fun that my performance is virtually irrelevant.

Third, I have been dating--which used to be the most terrror-inducing thing I could do, because as a relatively "prudish" guy in a highly oversexed society, I never felt confident that I knew "what to do and when to do it."  This has been a ton of fun, and the ridiculous ways in which I've screwed up a host of dates--both physically and by simply being way too open and honest--have not in any way led to the typical "Ed now needs to beat the s*#t out of himself" experience.  I just laugh it off and try to learn from it.

Finally, last night I got food poisoning from seafood.  I have never had a serious case of food poisoning, so this was a first for me.  I would be more than happy for it to be the last, as well.  I had a wonderful dinner with my friend, Bruce, which we concluded around 11pm.  Towards the end of dinner I was already starting to feel a bit queasy, but I figured it would just lead to some diarrhea or something.  I then spent about an hour on the phone with my friend, Ben, who is making some very exciting changes in his life.  It was an important conversation, so despite my growing discomfort I did not end the call until I was literally walking to the bathroom in order to start paying my dues.

Over the course of the next four and a half hours, I went through three full cycles of 1) vomit uncontrollably 2) try to stretch myself back out since every stomach muscle I have ended up locked in a cramp 3) feel a bit better and 4) watch my stomach swell up again until it was time to to start a new cycle.  Thank God I finally invested in basic cable a few months ago, because during this time I was able to partially distract myself by watching Aliens, The Long Kiss Goodnight, The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, and a few snippets from other shows that were on for me and whatever meth-heads were also watching.

By 5am I was getting worried that I might pass out and pull a Jimi Hendrix, so I sheepishly called 911 to see if they had any suggestions.  They were very kind and said that it was, in fact, a good idea to get myself checked out.  The EMT guys showed up within minutes, and they found that my blood pressure was 90 over 75.  By the time we got to the ER I was back to 110 over 80, and after one more round of heaving they were able to put me on an IV with an anti-nausea drip.

This made my life much more bearable, and I sat in a bed for the next 3 hours feeling only 80% horrible as opposed to the 150% I'd felt earlier.

I don't tell this story to gross people out.  I could go into a lot more detail if I wanted to do that.  The reason I tell it is that there was something very strange about the whole experience: it was never a problem.  It was miserable and horrible.  It was disgusting.  At one point I even realized that with no family in NYC and no significant other in my life, I was all alone--and that made me a bit sad.  But the whole time it was almost as if it was happening to someone else.  The EMT guys and the hospital nurses made comments later that I was the funniest and most philosophical food poisoning case they'd ever had, because I was somehow able to see the whole thing as laughable, even though I was the butt of the joke.

I don't think I can attribute this new perspective entirely to my experiences from July, 2009.  I recently just completed another 10-day Vipassana course in Massachusetts, and there is no doubt that the "equanimity" I maintained last night was largely thanks to being reestablished in my meditation practice.  But I have done those courses before and this seems different.

I just hope that as far as physical pain goes, this is the last test I have to go through for quite a while. 

You CAN'T? Or you simply don't want to try?

"Oh, I'm so sorry, but I can't go to church with you this Sunday.  I'm going to the Steelers game with my friend, and this is the only game he has tickets for."

Americans have become so soft and spoiled that we are perfectly comfortable talking ourselves into all kinds of ridiculous "can't"s.  We can't seem to do anything unless it involves making money or entertaining ourselves.  In other words, we are far too busy for anything significant.

Ask someone how they're doing and they will almost always answer: "I'm so busy!"  I know, because this is the way I lived my life up until recently.  Then I realized, that I was not really busy--I was simply obsessed with the ego gratification that comes from considering myself to be busy. 

The next time you tell somebody you can't do something because you are too busy, think again.  If every ounce of strength and energy you HAVE is required to feed yourself and your loved ones between now and then, then you are correct.  You can't.

If not, you just don't want to.  You could, but you are instead choosing to spend your time differently.

I don't care how anybody chooses to spend his or her time.  I just don't like it when people make pathetic excuses and insist on fighting shadows in Plato's cave, when all I'm suggesting is that we leave the shadows for a bit, go outside in the sun, and walk around a bit.  It's always sunny in God's world.  And in Philadelphia, apparently.

So, what are YOU willing to die for?

This is my second favorite question to ask people.  It would be my most favorite question to ask if the answers I got back were not so damn depressing.

My favorite question to ask is:  If you had unlimited financial resources, what would you do with the rest of your life?

That is a much more "uplifting" question, and the answers are far more diverse and interesting.  I am not going to tell you the almost universal answer to the first question, because I would love for you to write to me and tell me yourself, without any "hints" about what the answer should be.  I also have a lot to say about why the answers I get to this question are so depressing (and are a leading indicator of the rapidly approaching downfall of Western Civilization), but I will keep that writing private for now, based on its "political incorrectness" and general unpleasantness.

However, I do think the question is particularly relevent on Christmas Day, when hundreds of millions of people around the world celebrate the birth of Jesus of Nazereth, a.k.a., Jesus Christ, Immanuel ("God is with us"), the Son of God, and the Messiah.  This birth supposedly took place on roughly this same day in an animal shelter in a town called Bethlemen more than 2,000 years ago.  As Pastor Gilchrist quipped last night, the decision to refuse a room to Mary and Joseph, the soon-to-be parents of the Son of God, may well be the "greatest hospitality blunder in the history of the world."

If we believe the written accounts, which were eventually ratified in 325 by the Council of Nicaea, Jesus of Nazereth most certainly had something for which he was willing to die--namely the redemption of the souls of ALL of God's people.  

Like Karl in Caddyshack, who received the gift of "total consciousness" on his death bed from the big hitting Dalai Lama, we have THAT going for us.  Which is nice.