CHAPTER 1

Why Now?

In the late 1960s I wrote a book entitled Notes to Myself, which was publishedin 1970. I look back on it now as a writing that in some ways transcended itstime but in many ways did not. Certainly we have all learned much since thosedays of self-examination, self-fulfillment, self-expression, and numerous otherfocuses on the individual or separate self. It was a time when even the word"selfishness" went from a negative to a positive. As a society, we still arecleaning up many loose ends from that period. In the groups my wife Gayle and Irun for couples and parents, we continue to see individuals tenaciously holdingon to myths such as "You have to give to yourself before you will have anythingto give to others" and "You can't make someone else happy; you can only makeyourself happy" and maybe the saddest of all: "As parents we have to reclaim ourrights; we are not our children's servants." Ironically, it is now two thousandyears since Jesus said, "Who is greater, the one at the table or the one whoserves? Surely, the one at the table. Yet here I am among you as one whoserves."

To some extent, Notes to Myself suffered from this type of preoccupation withthe unconnected or unserving self. It was based on the premise that we learnabout ourselves by studying our private feelings, patterns, thoughts, "dreams,"reactions to others, and so forth. I believed that by becoming more aware Icould improve myself, the way I approached other people, and my life in general.My assumption was not so much wrong as it was incomplete. Certainly it's a goodthing to look in our hearts and see what we believe. We all have layers offeelings that become more loving and unifying the deeper we go into them. But atthe time, I still was thinking that I was made equally of love and fear, drivenequally by the desire to heal and the desire to hurt. I saw the distinction, butI identified with both. This makes for a very slow journey. Today I see moreclearly the great gulf between the little self or "ego" and the united or"deeper self."

The 1970s marked the emergence of a general preoccupation with ego enhancement.We had sensitivity groups, consciousness-raising groups, encounter groups, andthe beginnings of a tide of books and speakers urging us to love ourselves and"honor" our feelings. Although this movement did much good, its prominentfeature was the ideal that, above all, we should define our ego's needs anddevote ourselves to meeting them. Indeed, our ego's needs should not operateunconsciously, but when meeting them is our primary focus in life, we becomepreoccupied with all we haven't been getting and must get now. This attitude isquite separating and not at all as "empowering" as it is commonly believed tobe.

Within us is a source of power that is far greater than our separate feelings,separate opinions, and separate agendas: our unity with other people. A selfishperson is like a single power line attached to nothing. Making the line fatterand longer is impressive but accomplishes nothing. If we devote ourselves to ourprivate differences, we journey down a dead-end road toward loneliness and loss.Far too many people today are ending their lives with a list of petty victoriesand meaningless gratifications that no one cares about—because they themselvescared about no one. And yet, entreaties to our oneness are distrusted anddisbelieved. To much of the world, they are at best a joke; at worst, dangerousrantings.

The thing I lacked most when I wrote Notes to Myself was the experience of whatconnects us. I gave lip service to the concept of oneness, but it was still merephilosophy, just one idea among many. In another early book I posed the questionof whether there is another way to go through life "besides being pulled throughit kicking and screaming." When I wrote that I was still in love with thequestion. Now I am in love with the answer.

But please understand, the answer does not lie in having to embrace Judaism,Buddhism, fundamentalism, Catholicism, or any other ism. Nor does it lie in merebelief in God. Believing is of limited use. Sacred scriptures and inspiredwritings can point the way, but finally you have to walk where they arepointing. This you can do with the aid of a system or by listening to thestillness within you. Either way is fine, but ultimately you must stop searchingand simply do it.

There is a way to have a growing fulfillment, a deepening peace, and anunreasonable happiness free of circumstances and events. It lies in recognizingour oneness with all living things. To me God is what binds us together. This isanother way of saying God is Love. We simply are not separate. We do not havelittle private thoughts that affect no one but ourselves. All of that is anillusion, albeit a powerful one. Yet it will remain the hard fact of life untilwe feel, experience, and immerse ourselves in the stream that runs through usall.

There is no evidence outside of us that this eternal, unchangeable streamexists. Yet we only seem to turn to this one thing our eyes can't see or judgewhen we have grown tired of the world's usual patterns and of our own smallthoughts. I write this book because I assume that you, like me, now feel ayearning for a simpler life and for relationships that last. There isunquestionably a way for you to have the life you long for. I now know thisbeyond any doubt.

Clearly an ego is not all we are. Nor is the ego's puny range of experience allwe believe in. Most individuals have had at least a moment when they felt joinedwith something greater than themselves. Perhaps they felt swept up in thestrains of extraordinary music, or felt utter stillness before the magnificenceof nature. Perhaps they experienced an instant of perfect love for a child or ananimal and the joy they felt was beyond human description. Perhaps they sensedthe existence of an order or a perfection and suddenly they knew that itincluded everything and everyone. Maybe there was no outward evidence of thisperfection or order, but they had a deep knowing nonetheless. Others have feltthe touch of God's peace at the very moment of tragedy or loss. Here theevidence before their eyes refuted what they felt, but somehow they sensed theunshakable grounds for that peace.

As the old hymn says, "My God is real ... 'cause I can feel ... Him in my soul."That experience is undeniable. It is more powerful and intimate than anything inthe world. Just one instant of the knowledge of God destroys even the laws ofphysics. It brushes aside time and space. It brushes aside death. For within thepeace of God we can feel the presence of a loved one who may be continents away,or that someone who has died and no longer "exists" in the world in anymeaningful sense is now with us, a living presence we cannot lose.

However, you don't need an overwhelming spiritual experience to begin. Signs andwonders are nice but not required. In order to start, you don't even need tohave your questions answered. All you need is the intent to start. In a sense,this book is the field notes of how one person began his journey. These are thethings I have said to myself and to others when I was not qualifying mysentences or trying to sugarcoat the truth. They are the things that Gayle and Ihave been thinking and increasingly living for many years. Believe me, they arepretested! You can take them to the bank.

As I did in Notes to Myself, I have tried in this volume to select and arrangepassages to form a whole. Study this little book and you will have at least oneroute to "the place of eternal beauty." Apply the ideas daily, and you will staythere. This promise would be arrogant except that "the way" is so simple thateven little children instinctively know it. The secret they feel—the one that isalways happily bubbling up within them—is that, actually, we never left thatplace. We just forgot where we are.

My use of "you"

Having boys who love team sports, Gayle and I frequently have seen them talk tothemselves in the course of a game: "You're not watching the ball." "Get yourhead in the game." "Swing [the bat, club, racket] from your hips, not yourarms." In the following notes, I frequently use the second person in a similarway—to get my own attention.

Although occasionally I do address "you" the reader, most often I am not beingblunt with you, but with myself. A firm reminder can cut through my mentaldawdling: "Forget what just happened [Hugh], and get back to what's important."In this sense, many of the notes in this book are more like ones I might tape tothe bathroom mirror or refrigerator door, rather than the more tentative notes Iwould enter in a diary.

The mind can and should be self-correcting, and sometimes a healthy dose ofmental firmness is an effective part of this process. However, in my opinionself-censure and guilt must never be an aspect of self-encouragement, becauseall forms of attack split the mind rather than unite and focus it.

Sometimes I get the feeling God has pets and I'm not one of them.

I have this notion that there's a plan or rhythm of the universe or divineguidance, and if I could just follow it, everything would turn out okay. Theproblem is it seems to be revealed in hidden signs and coded indicators—which,somehow, I'm supposed to read. No one hears, "Turn left at the next corner andthere under a discarded burger wrapper will be the winning lottery ticket." Sowhat do we really have here, a God who stands behind a room divider and mutters?

God is the only sane thing there is, and we are all a part of God. However, if Ibelieve there's some divine law manifesting itself as parking places and fatbank accounts in the West, while allowing children in the East to step on landminds, I have got an insane God on my mind.

Jesus' life didn't go well. He didn't reach his earning potential. He didn'thave the respect of his colleagues. His friends weren't loyal. His life wasn'tlong. He didn't meet his soul mate. And he wasn't understood by his mother. YetI think I deserve all those things because I'm so spiritual.

We are walking in a ticker tape parade. That's all that's going on. Some piecesof confetti read "great calves," some "chronic sinus," some "no noticeable hairloss," some "multiple sclerosis," and some "third finger amputation." Don'tjudge your neighbor by what pieces of paper fall on his or her shoulders. Don'tthink you are cursed or "blessed" by what pieces fall on yours.

The fact is, nothing will go right today. And if it does, it will only scareyou.

Are there miracles? Of course! But notice the effect of a miracle. It doesn'tmake us feel more separate and special, but more at one with all things. It's amistake to think that God reveals the cure for my child's illness but not foryours, or even that God whispers the directions home into the ears of some lostpets but leaves others to perish.

A miracle isn't a detached event that I can talk about at the potluck. Itdoesn't smooth my way alone. It brings me a step closer to the place ofstillness and beauty within me—and that smooths everyone's way.

If I had Bushwhacker Hot Sauce for dinner, no matter how I try to change thedream I'm having six hours later, it's just going to go bad again. It's the hotsauce. A disturbed dream is the product of a disturbed dreamer. And everyone whoisn't fully awake is more or less disturbed. That's why the answer to all myquestions is, "Wake up."

When I look back on some incident and ask, "Why did this happen? What does thismean?" I'm almost always thinking of something I have already classified asnegative. I don't analyze the times I forgive or turn to God, or even analyze afavorable turn of events.

People who are unfaithful, "play hardball" in business deals with friends, winat any cost when competing in sports, or consistently leave inadequate tips areseldom tempted to ask "What does this mean?"

We say "It was meant to be" about the loss of a championship or about anuntimely death. But we apply this explanation arbirtraily. We don't say thiswhen athletes lose because a fan attacks them or when an infant dies inexplosion.

There's this peculiar thought today that we "attract" negative experiences andrelationships. And yet, no agreed-upon list of who or what is wholly negativeexists. Even the darkest tragedies sometimes can lead to new understandings andstrengths.

We can't control even the smallest event. However, we do choose what weexperience. We decide to be awake to the stillness and peace of Love or to knowmerely the chaos of constant analysis and continual reinterpretation.

How the world strikes me is not precisely how it strikes anyone else. Even myown interpretations are unstable. Many past "defeats" I see now as pastimprovements, and many "victories" I see as spiritual failures. There are few ifany aspects of my life that I am wise enough to change "for the better."

Although our take on other people and worldly circumstances differs, ourexperience of God, which is beyond the fumbling grasp of words, is universallythe same.

God speaks to us in a thousand voices, each with the same clear message: "I loveyou. Please trust me on this one."

If your child is having a nightmare, you don't try to perfect the nightmare. Ifin her sleep she mutters, "Mommy, I'm a baby bird and the cat's about to getme," you don't say, "try hiding under a bush." That would just keep herdreaming. You kiss her on top of the head, sing her a song of comfort, andgently rock her awake. God is no less loving a parent than you.

Here I am moving from point A to point B to point C—in a fog. I turn to God andsay, "How do I get to point D?" But God gently replies, "Take my hand and I willlead you out of the fog." Then I get stubborn and say, "You didn't answer myquestion!"

We ask God which apple we should buy, and think divine Love leaves the one withthe rotten core for someone else. We may even think God saves one or two fromthe crash and leaves all the others to burn to death. We actually believe thatwhat favors our body is a sign of God's grace.

God doesn't tell us where to get the shoes on sale or give us stock market tips.Don't even ask for that brand of advice. If you're getting a buy signal, you'rehearing Edgar, The Higher Ego, not God.

Do I really think God doesn't know my question?

The answer is in my heart before I ask.

When my grandmother used to see me hopping up and down on one foot, she wouldsay, "Hugh, just follow your little pee pee into the bathroom." And mygrandmother was always right. Just follow your pee pee—your "peacefulpreference," your deeper inclination toward simplicity. Forget what you want—batheyour mind in stillness—then notice that you have a peaceful preference, agentle leaning in some direction. That's your answer.

Guidance isn't being told which action to take or not to take. Guidance is God'sgift of peace—from which we proceed. The peace dissolves the question, and wesimply do what we do in peace.

I always have a peaceful preference. But I have to be still enough to know it.

Following my peaceful preference doesn't assure me an outcome that my ego, or"little mind," will like. But it does join me with the source of peace, which isindependent of assessments and interpretations.

My little mind is conflicted about what to do. And even after I have decided inpeace, my little mind now is conflicted about the outcome.

Whether I grant someone's request because I'm fighting my ego or refuse to grantit because I'm giving in to my ego, I still am not connected to my real mind, myreal feelings, my real identity.

The little mind always speaks first. For example, Gayle asks me to do somethingand immediately I feel resistance. I don't mind doing things, but I don't liketo be asked. Now, don't fight that reaction. Wait an instant to let the deeperfeelings come into focus. The impulses of the deeper self rise in stillness.

The ego is a fussy ol' geezer. It holds no peace. I know when my ego is speakingbecause I feel urgency or righteousness or excitement. "Do it before it's toolate," says the ego. "It's better to be right than happy," says the ego.

The little mind thinks the choice is between two courses of action—eat thechocolate, don't eat the chocolate; tell the white lie, don't tell the whitelie. But the only spiritually meaningful choice is between acting from peace oracting from conflict.

Our ego is the echo of the voices from our past. It's made up primarily of theinfluences and experiences we had during our formative years. These "lessons"combine to give us a sense of identity that is unrepresentative of our real, orpeaceful, identity. Because the voices from our formative years disagree, ourego is deeply conflicted.

Within stillness I experience my peaceful mind, my united self. Obviously,stillness can't be attained by warring against a conflicted ego. That's whyjudging myself is as great a mistake as judging my neighbor.

The identity you think you are does not exist.

Our ego, or imaginary identity, functions very much like a child's imaginaryplaymate. Set up by the mind as separate and autonomous, it will defend itself."Don't talk to the new kid on the block," the imaginary playmate says—because itknows that real friendship will dissolve it. Likewise, the ego counsels, "Don'tconsult your true feelings," because it knows that truth will dissolve it. Butnote that consulting what is true is not denouncing the ego. When children fightan imaginary friend, it takes stronger hold of their mind. But when they becomeinterested in actual companionship, they lose interest naturally in imaginarycompanionship. Awakening is merely the arousing of our interest in our realself.