Thursday, September 25, 2008

Pursuing Goodness (part 2)

Freedom wasn’t the only criteria for goodness or wisdom however. I also discovered that there is no free will without responsibility. I alone am responsible for my actions. No matter what I do alone, or in conjunction with another, the freedom to act meant that I was responsible for the results. If the results were positive I could rejoice. Often I found myself hurting other’s hearts. The freedom that I thought I was gaining by acting on my beliefs showed me instead the harsh reality of my immaturity. The pursuit of wisdom was an on-going process stretching out before me for the rest of my life, if I had the courage to learn the hard discipline of being responsible for this freedom.


I was discovering that in order to create a reality and a path based on these principles one needed the same discipline and rules that creation lived by naturally. One of the most important points for me was patience. It takes time to grow and change, and growth can be measured by looking at the development of my relationship with myself and with others.

That was when I realized that there is no freedom without actual results—and those results bring about my own personal transformation and growth. In pursuing wisdom, in looking for a Path to wholeness, I discovered that the Way itself was not the question, nor the answer. In religion, the one leads to the All leads to the One. In science the atom leads to the Universe leads to the no-thing-ness. As the Japanese poet Basho writes, “Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.” Every day of my life I must recognize the question and the answer of who I Am, being at home and one with myself, while being in relationship and in oneness with all those around me.

As I got older I had another invaluable insight that helped me understand my own individual pursuit of wisdom toward the greatest wisdom of being good. My connection with God, although a strong base and stable support, was not enough. True creativity on the path towards goodness did not happen alone, but in union with another, and then in community. I prayed, “God, let me understand how to have right relations with all beings.” With this I was led to the study of Earth Literacy.

In nature I saw in practice the value of diversity, cooperation, mutual respect and long-term commitment. I experienced unconditional love, patience and forgiveness. It was obvious that these were values that humankind has a hard time remembering, and wisdom that our connection with everything around us could teach us. “Creation waits in eager longing for the sons of God to be revealed.” (Romans 8:19) Earth offers us her gifts and we are only now beginning to realize that we have squandered them.

It dawned on me then that the path toward wisdom I was on was not my own, but one the whole human community was following. Some of us have achieved freedom from want, hunger, and the elements, but has it led to goodness and responsibility? Our innovations have led to advancements in technology, medicine and industry, but many of these efforts have not been made in a disciplined way—they have not taken into account the principles by which the rest of creation has lived and thrived. This we see in the results around us.

My efforts were not for me alone, but ones that had to be made in concert with the rest of humankind. As my own understanding of community grew, so did my desire for like-minded individuals who also believed in the goodness and the need at this time towards responsible living. Having this support was necessary if the impact was to be felt worldwide.

However, I did not want to become part of another social movement, protesting this or that. For a long time in my life, I felt that in order to change I had to fight. I had to fight against the pattern of society around me in which I did not fit. I fought against my parents and my church because I didn’t fit in their pattern either. Trying desperately to fit in to a society that had different beliefs and values than I did because I wanted, I needed to belong, I fought against myself as well.

What I found in nature was peace, as I felt the interconnection of each unique piece, none more valuable or powerful than the other, each fitting into the cosmic scheme, each being themselves, offering themselves for the greater good of the other, and adapting and evolving to find their place in the universe. This reflected the difference between domination, resistance or oppression, and creativity.

At this point I recognize that creatively for people to become themselves there must be cultural development and understanding that leads us back to our relationship with Mother Earth and Father Sky, with all uniquely valuable beings in this physical realm from the smallest bacteria to the largest galaxy, and with the myriad beings in the spiritual or other-dimensional worlds that also wait in eager longing for humankind’s next step in the pursuit of wisdom. It was at this time in my life, then, that I was led to study at Wisdom University.

It is in our culture that we hold our beliefs and morals, our thought patterns and our fears. Our culture is what gives us our symbols and our stories, from being chained in a cave to finding our way into the light on the mountaintop. It also produces the consequences that we see around us, many of which are the result of the fear that holds us back from achieving greatness. This greatness, as I see it, being a product of wisdom, is in the creativity of wholeness, when people realize that problems are larger than themselves, and begin finding the answers in community. Paul Ray aptly labels these pioneers the Cultural Creatives, and it is within this interconnectiveness that I am in the process of discovering my unique contribution.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Pursuing Goodness (part 1)

Why did God make the sun to shine,
If it doesn’t shine
All of the time?

Why did God make the men who sin,
If in sinning
They turn away from Him?


My first thoughts of God appeared to be deep and transcendental. Writing this poem in elementary school expressed just some of the many questions I had about life, God and religion. I grew up in a Catholic family, the oldest girl of eleven, with one older brother. There were eight boys and three girls. My mom was a nurse and my dad an electrical engineer. We were taught that the Catholic religion was the one true religion and that family mattered.

Another question that bothered me was about the reality of hell. I had my first experience with death at the age of eight when my uncle, my grandmother and my young cousin all died within a month of each other. My mom must have handled communicating this to us very well, since I have no memory of a fear of death. I remember going to say our last goodbyes to an open coffin. I still recall vividly Uncle Willie, with his bright, thick, white hair and florid complexion, looking so peaceful and content in death, as in life. That was no surprise to me since I was told repeatedly that he was a good man and therefore would find his place in Heaven.

After that month of an outpouring of familial love, I began questioning the logic of Hell. If God truly is a God of love, I asked, how can He possibly condemn any of His children to Hell for eternity? Even the worst person on Earth can find one person who will love and forgive him—most likely his mother. If, in all our frailty and selfishness, we humans can find it in our hearts to do that, how can a God of infinite love deign to condemn someone forever? I could understand punishment, but not eternal damnation. Slowly I was working my way beyond the thresholds of Catholicism.

Then there was the question of Jesus. Following years of grammar school questions, when I entered high school and continued to question, not my faith—surely there was a God with whom I had a very close relationship—but the details, that were to be believed unquestioning—my mother resorted to asking her sister, who was a nun, over to the house on a regular basis. “If God is God, and Jesus is God, why do we need Jesus?” My aunt’s answer to that was a short: “Don’t worry about it. As long as you believe in God, that’s ok.” At that point I decided to find my own answers, taking courses in Hebrew, learning the ancient philosophers, and studying early Christian history.

Outside of school I would stop and talk to anyone who stopped me. Since I was in New York City, and it was the ’70s, there were innumerable groups vying for my attention—from the Hare Krishnas, the Seventh Day Adventists, the Mormons, Scientologists, to the Moonies. I visited Baptist churches, Jewish synagogues and Hindu temples. I worshiped with Buddhist, Christian and Shinto. I read Siddhartha and Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, along with the Bible and the Dead Sea Scrolls. I threw the I Ching faithfully, but I never did get into the reading of Tarot cards.

In the end (or perhaps it was the beginning of the beginning), when it came to following a Path, I did what I always did—I asked. I asked God. I threw it out there to the Universe in all its vast wisdom of the ages—and, for the first time in my life, I got no answer. I had always gotten very clear answers before. Do this; don’t do that; listen closely; lighten up; always the guidance was substantial and resonated deeply within my being. This time I pleaded, I demanded, I cursed, I ranted, I threatened, I begged, and the answer I received was always the same. “Anne, it’s up to you. It’s your choice.”

I didn’t want it. I didn’t want the freedom—or the responsibility—to decide what was right or good for me. I wanted to be told; I wanted to obey; I wanted to follow. God never let me off the hook. That was when I started piecing together what the meaning of true freedom was. There is no freedom without my deciding and then taking action. Sitting on the fence made me a prisoner of the circumstances. Following someone else’s beliefs was no better. Even just pronouncing my own belief in something without acting upon it daily was not freedom, but a life dictated by the precepts of others. I must recognize the truth in my own heart, what was right for me, at this time, in this place. Then, putting my whole heart into it, I could say that I was leading a good life.