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What we had here was a herd of ill-timed little problem-ettes, and the whole was definitely greater than the sum of the parts.

Initially I would sit in the morning and in the evening. During those early attempts I literally could not expel the PROBLEM from my brain for more than a few seconds.

In retrospect, perhaps the most surprising aspect of this situation was that this revitalized devotion to meditation and the associated experience were not in spite of, but as a direct result of, the PROBLEM.

I’m not knocking comfort! Comfort is good. But PROBLEMS have great utility too, if perceived as the learning tools that they are. 

Those so imbued will, without effort, forethought, or even intent, fulfill their role perfectly in meeting the real needs of those with whom they come into contact.

Asleep at the Wheel on the Metaphysical Highway

by Pride S. Wright

As I’m writing this, the leaves on the aspen outside my window have barely begun to turn gold. It’s been a long and glorious Indian Summer here in the Sierra. But this afternoon the winds are beginning to pick up, clouds are moving in, and it appears our first real taste of winter will be upon us by evening.   

When last we spoke, we were preparing to launch a new gallery on the North Coast in Arcata. It opened back in July, and both Michelle and I have been blessed immeasurably by our contact with an assortment of special people who have stumbled into our lives. We have enjoyed having a presence in Humboldt County immensely. If you read the last issue, you know the gallery in Arcata was what I would consider our first real attempt as a couple at a prayerful, heart-based major decision. We felt extremely good about this process, although it yielded a decision that seemed, even to us, to defy reason and run counter to our stated goal of simplification. We took the plunge—a leap of faith, if you will. I assumed there were other related developments to come.

There were. And they weren’t good.

During the latter part of August, things began unraveling a bit. We were spread thin, operating near the outer limits of our capacity but with a reasonable margin for error, when suddenly several unexpected things happened simultaneously to throw us out of kilter. Next thing you know, we had a PROBLEM. For our purposes, it doesn’t matter what the components of this PROBLEM were. (It's a long story, and this is a short article.) To curb speculation, let me just say it did not involve any of our awesome staff or the new gallery in Arcata. What we had here was a herd of ill-timed little problem-ettes, and the whole was definitely greater than the sum of the parts.

We’ve had a lot on our plate for quite some time now, so I’m accustomed to dealing with challenges. I may be a lot of things, but indecisive isn’t one of them. Everywhere I look I see solutions. I have solutions I need problems for. (That’s not to say they always work, but what I lack in quality I try to make up for in quantity.) I did not, however, have a solution for the PROBLEM.

During this period of time, not coincidentally, I began to meditate more consistently. I’ve had a sporadic meditation practice for years, but I can’t claim it’s ever been the priority it should have been. Meditation, for me, was a luxury, a thing to be indulged in on those occasions when all the really important stuff had been taken care of. But now, ironically, it was becoming a necessity. I was at an impasse, and it was getting to me. I needed a “place” to go and not think about the PROBLEM which was demanding, and seemed to warrant, my full attention.

Initially I would sit in the morning and in the evening. During those early attempts I literally could not expel the PROBLEM from my brain for more than a few seconds. But I kept trying, attempting to push through the distractions. After a week or so, I began to enjoy not only the meditation periods, but the way they set the tone for my entire day. Things seemed to slow down. I slept well. Soon I was adding short sessions on the hour (when possible) and at whatever other time it occurred to me to do so. Eventually I was feeling so well-rested, so relaxed, so content, I began to think I was getting away with something.     

I sometimes keep a journal, and here’s one of the entries from this period.

“I am at this moment experiencing a sense of well-being and contentment unmatched in my experience. My scalp and neck and the area between my shoulder blades are tingling. Time seems to have slowed down.” I know, it sounds a little corny—euphoria can do that to a person. But it’s a pretty accurate assessment.

As the weeks wore on, issues multiplied and the general picture got progressively worse. And generally speaking, the worse things got, the better I felt. Furthermore, I became increasingly determined to resist my instinct to “fix it” and, in the interest of science, to follow this evolving “situation” through to its logical conclusion. As we entered the critical last two weeks of production on this issue, we had fires on so many fronts I lost count. The funny thing is I also lost interest. I was meditating while Rome burned.

In retrospect, perhaps the most surprising aspect of this situation was that this revitalized devotion to meditation and the associated experience were not in spite of, but as a direct result of, the PROBLEM. I had “plateaued”. I was in danger of becoming a terminal spiritual intermediate. In retrospect, I was reasonably satisfied, or at least not overly dissatisfied, with the quality of my experience. The word “complacent” comes to mind. And while the months preceding the PROBLEM were certainly not problem-free, it was tolerable and I was handling it, perhaps even with a certain amount of success. I now see I needed to be put in a situation I would perceive as so tenuous, so uncomfortable, so unpleasant, and so impossible to escape that my only real option would be to embrace another level of perception. I was being goosed out of metaphysical lethargy by being asked to transcend the PROBLEM, not repair it.

I suspect uninterrupted comfort has never been much of a catalyst for anything, except maybe a beer gut. I’m not knocking comfort! Comfort is good. But PROBLEMS have great utility too, if perceived as the learning tools that they are. Which leads me to a related thought.

Over the past few years I have on several occasions felt compelled to “intervene” in the financial affairs of a friend or acquaintance who appeared to be in need. For example, two years ago, a Guido-type came to repossess the truck of one of our cooks in the cafe. This particular cook (we’ll call him “Steve”) had practically nothing in this world besides that truck. So I wrote Guido a check with the understanding that Steve could pay me back when he sold the truck, which he was attempting to do anyway. To make a long story short, Steve ultimately high-tailed it for Arizona, the truck ended up in the hands of a third party, and I was left sort of cracking up at the regularity with which I’ve seen this dynamic played out. (My wife, however, was less amused.) Almost without exception, these little interventions resulted in no lasting material improvement in circumstance for the alleged benefactor. In some cases, things seemed to get worse. Given the regularity with which I’ve seen both the benefit and the necessity of certain difficulties in my own life, why am I so quick to assume those around me need to be bailed out of theirs?

One of my favorite books, “A Course in Miracles”, gives a brief description of the various stages of the spiritual path, and it is clear a period of turbulence plays a part in each. “This need not be painful, but it usually is so experienced.” “This is always somewhat difficult...” “this...will engender enormous conflict.” “Few escape this distress entirely.”

I wonder how many times I’ve inadvertently stuck a well-intending foot out only to trip a brother or sister on a collision course with a seminal moment? (Message: tend to your own darn dream.)

In the wake of this experience, I’m now convinced the greatest contribution I can make in terms of healing any of the world’s myriad ills or being truly helpful to a brother or sister is to deepen my connection to, and align my perception with, my spiritual identity. This experience simply cannot be accessed consistently without a steadfast commitment to meditation or deep prayer. To wildly paraphrase a familiar section of Corinthians: “The spiritual experience (which can be described as an intertwining of love, joy, and peace) manifests itself in behavior characterized by patience, kindness, gentleness, and self-control,” and, I might add, gratitude. Those so imbued will, without effort, forethought, or even intent, fulfill their role perfectly in meeting the real needs of those with whom they come into contact.

Or in the words of our old friend Hugh Prather, happiness leaves nothing undone.        

So over the past two weeks, I’ve experienced perhaps the most consistent and sustained inner peace of my twenty-year stumble down the spiritual path. It’s been good. Hope I can sustain it. But what of the PROBLEM? I have seen movement in the situation, but that’s secondary. More importantly, a few short weeks ago I could see nothing but chaos because I was evaluating the circumstances within the parameters of the material plane. Now, re-evaluated from the perspective of an evolving spiritual curriculum, it all seems to make perfect sense. (At least for the moment.)

The idea, I’m learning, is not to dream a better dream, but to awaken from it.

I wish you peace. Unless, of course, what you really need is a swift metaphysical kick in the backside. 

Pride S. Wright

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