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CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Preface
CHAPTER ONE
Live Long and Prosper, Grasshopper
CHAPTER TWO
A Plethora of Pandemics
CHAPTER THREE
Death and How to Live It
CHAPTER FOUR
The Notorious G.O.D.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Sacred Pilgrims
CHAPTER SIX
Religion, Schmeligion
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Fabulous Foundations of Faith
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hey, Kids, Let’s Build the Perfect Religion!
CHAPTER NINE
The Broken Blue Marble
CHAPTER TEN
The Seven Pillars of a Spiritual Revolution
In Conclusion
Books That Greatly Inspired Me and That You Should Consider Reading
Acknowledgments
Discover More
About the Author
Also by Rainn Wilson
For my dad, Robert Wilson.
Thanks for teaching me about the soul.
Explore book giveaways, sneak peeks, deals, and more.
Here I am. Sitting in my office during the early weeks of the COVID-19
quarantine, furiously outlining the book on big spiritual ideas that I’ve been
wanting to write for years. “Now’s my chance!” I say to myself (while
wearing the same sweatpants I’ve worn for the past six days with the little
stain where I wiped my cinnamon-raisin oatmeal on my thigh). Here’s the
big opportunity! Hours and hours of free time to vomit forth a potpourri of
ideas on all my favorite topics: the journey of the soul, life after death, the
Big Guy Upstairs, and the personal and universal spiritual transformation of
society!
The only problem? Me. Rainn Wilson.
Let me be blunt with you, dear reader. I know what you might be asking
right now: “Why the hell is the actor who played Dwight on The Office
writing a book on spirituality?”
First, let me explain what I mean by “spirituality.”
True story: I recently came across a news headline about some
model/celebrity who had undergone some kind of “spiritual
transformation.” I was intrigued. After all, I love spiritual transformations!
Have had a couple myself over the decades. In fact, I might be having one
right now as I write this. Upon further reading, turns out that this
model/celebrity had undergone an actual exorcism of some kind in a remote
town in Switzerland. A shaman had released some kind of demon/energy
from them, and they were finally, on the other side of it, able to practice
“self-care” and enjoy yoga and raw juicing from home. Something like that.
Which got me thinking about the word “spirituality.” It can mean so many
different things to so many people.
To some, spirituality is completely synonymous with religious practice
and “organized religion”: church, God, and so forth. To others, it can mean
rituals involving hallucinogens. To many, because the word “spirit” is in it,
it means that ghosts are involved. To still others, like the model/celebrity, it
can mean exorcisms by Swiss shamans.
Let me be perfectly clear: I’m not talking about any of that.
The word “spirituality,” as the Oxford English Dictionary defines it,
means “the quality of being concerned with the human spirit or soul as
opposed to material or physical things.” This is exactly what I’m talking
about. Way to go, OED! I will delve into all these concepts in far greater
detail as the book progresses, but if we are to believe, as I very much do,
that we have some kind of “soul” that continues on some kind of journey
after our bodies fall away, and that this spiritual essence of who we are is
just as real (if not more so) than our bodies—in other words, that this “soul”
is the nonanimal, nonmaterial, non-pleasure-and-power-seeking dimension
of ourselves that continues in some form after our physical existence ceases
—and if this soul exists, then there are certain practices, processes, and
perspectives that might help to shape our human beingness, the reality of
who we really are. This is what I’m referring to when I talk about the word
“spirituality”: this eternal/divine aspect of ourselves that longs for higher
truth and journeys toward heart-centered enlightenment and, dare I say it,
God.
But let’s go back to the original theme.
Why does a guy famous for playing a weird, officious nerd on one of
America’s most beloved TV comedies (and many other offbeat characters)
want to write about the soul, religion, the afterlife, sacredness, and the need
for society to undergo a spiritual reimagining? Why is the beet-farming,
paper-selling, tangentially Amish man-baby with the giant forehead and
short-sleeved mustard shirts writing about the meaning of life?
Well, I’ll tell you one thing: it certainly is not because I have anything
figured out.
I’m no authority on spirituality, religion, or holiness, and I’m anything
but enlightened. Yes, I’ve read and studied a great deal. I’ve suffered
deeply. I’ve pondered and contemplated and meditated. I’ve struggled and
many times failed. But aren’t writers on spiritual topics supposed to have
life all worked out? I’m here to tell you they (we) don’t. Although I have
some insights from the work I’ve done, I still get anxious and confused a
great deal. I swear too much. I’m impatient with my kid sometimes. I have
a big ego that can sometimes subsume me. I compare and despair. I have
been (and can be) overwhelmingly selfish and judgmental.
Just ask my wife. (Who, by the way, is far more preternaturally spiritual
than I am, believe you me!)
But let’s keep digging a little bit. Why is a former sitcom actor writing
some “big idea” text on spiritual transformation?! And why am I (shameless
plug), at approximately the same time, hosting a travel documentary series
on finding happiness called Rainn Wilson and the Geography of Bliss for
the Peacock streaming service?
Before I answer that question, I want to share some context. My life
story, the story of my journey toward being an actor, a member of the
Baha’i Faith, and a spiritual student/thinker/enthusiast (as told in full in The
Bassoon King, my serio-comic memoir of 2015), is a complicated one.
My parents, like so many of their generation, were artsy bohemians in
the ’60s and ’70s on a quest for truth, peace, and meaning in their lives. My
birth mother, Shay (formerly Patricia) of Weyauwega, Wisconsin, moved to
Seattle and became an actress in experimental theater in the late ’60s. She
did a play once while topless with her torso painted blue, running around in
the aisles and swearing at the audience. My father, the recently deceased
(more on that later) Robert “Bob” Wilson of Downers Grove, Illinois, was a
painter of abstract art and an author of science-fiction novels among various
other pursuits. He would often blast opera music from our 1970s stereo
system (why were stereos so big back then!?) while covered in turpentine
and gesso, singing along off-key as he smooshed globs of outrageous color
onto canvases. Paintings that very few would actually see because he never
really tried to sell any of them, so they would stack up in the basement like
multicolored pizza boxes. During the day, he would manage a sewer
construction office and dispatch rusty trucks to unclog the leaf-filled drains
of Seattle. During his lunch breaks, he would haul out a little portable
manual typewriter and clack away onto stacks of paper, unveiling over the
span of fifteen years around eleven tomes of sci-fi with such titles as
Tentacles of Dawn, The Lords of After-Earth, and Corissa of Doom. My
stepmother, Kristin, who was mostly tasked with raising me, wore various
vaguely ethnic shawls and capes and made fanciful, animal-shaped silver
jewelry that she sold at a stall at the Seattle Public Market.
And as if that wasn’t eclectic enough, on their off nights they would
attend meetings of the Baha’i Faith, of which they were adherents. They
would pray and meditate and study holy texts with other spiritually curious
Seattleites. And there were a lot of them back then.
An important note about the Baha’i Faith: Personally, after many years
of review and reflection, I have come to embrace the religion of my youth
and feel like it contains all kinds of relevant wisdom surrounding the issues
we face, both as individuals and as a species sharing a planet. And while
this book is greatly inspired by the Baha’i Faith and many of the principal
writings of its founder, Baha’u’llah, I won’t get too deep into the details of
the religion in these pages. After all, this is not a book about the Baha’i
Faith or for Baha’is; it is merely shaped and influenced by some of its
spiritual, mystical, and social teachings.
Any student of history knows the late ’60s and early ’70s had a
completely different energy than the vibe of the previous several decades.
When the whole Norman-Rockwell-Eisenhower-lilywhite-American-
dream-Doris Day-Leave-It-to-Beaver-crew-cut-post-World-War-II
skyscraper of American culture and values was taken down by an explosive
charge of race riots, Vietnam, various assassinations, rock’n’roll,
countercultural love, and LSD, all of a sudden the world as it used to be
didn’t make sense anymore. People were searching for a different path.
What do you do when the world as you know it falls to ashes at your
feet?
Well, the Beatles met with the Maharishi, Cat Stevens became a Muslim,
Shirley MacLaine communed with ancient aliens, a young Steve Jobs
studied Buddhism in India, everybody was “kung fu fighting,” and
countless young people sought answers along nontraditional spiritual paths.
Into this milieu was born gigantic pasty baby Rainn Dietrich Wilson.
My dad often told stories of the early ’70s, when he would be out and
about and see, say, a group of young men on a street corner in fringy leather
vests and long hair, passing a “doobie,” “jaybird,” or “spliff” (’70s
terminology) around the circle, and he would approach them, saying, “Hey,
guys. Wanna come over tonight to learn more about the Baha’i Faith? To
pray and study different spiritual traditions?” And instead of laughing at
him and/or kicking the shit out of him, they would respond with great
earnestness: “Sure, man. Sounds groovy! What time?”
These spiritual gatherings in our home would include Buddhists and
Sikhs and Muslims and Mormons, while our bookshelves became filled
with books by and about Buddhists and Sikhs and Muslims.
We would host prayer gatherings and “deepenings” (in order to get
deep), and, in addition to the many Baha’i-inspired songs, we would often
literally sing “Kumbaya.” Sometimes while holding hands in a patchouli-
scented circle. When Jehovah’s Witnesses would come to our door with
pamphlets and Bibles, they would be invited in, and we would host an
impromptu Bible study replete with pancakes!
I remember one time, when members of a particular sect of Christian
Protestant came to our house on a Sunday afternoon, my father asked them
to describe their concept of the kingdom of heaven.
A well-groomed man with a Ned Flanders mustache said, sipping some
coffee, “Well, sometime in the near future, there will be a great rumbling
from above, lightning will strike, and there will be terrible storms. The sky
will open up, and down will come Jesus Christ on a cloud with a great
trumpet blast. There will be an incredibly beautiful city with gold and silver
turrets that descends with angels on it, and this is the kingdom of God. The
good Christians will get into the city, and it will float away with Jesus to be
with God, the Father, and the rest of the people will be left behind, left on
earth to perish.”
And then he politely responded with something to the effect of, “What is
the Baha’i concept?”
My dad, a wise spiritual teacher and public speaker, responded, “Well, in
a lot of ways, it’s very similar. There will be great storms and lightning and
thunder, and the skies will open up. Down from a hole in the clouds doesn’t
come a city or Jesus or anything but rather a bunch of bags of cement.
Some shovels and hammers. Bricks and mortar and nails and lumber. And
finally, at the very end, a note floats down on the breeze and lands on top of
all the supplies. It reads: ‘Kingdom of God on Earth: Build-It-Yourself
Kit.’”
I don’t remember what happened after that. But I’ll always remember
that story, and, I suppose, when all is said and done, that’s what it’s all
about, no? Whether you believe in God or not, whether you’re Christian or
Baha’i or anything else, we’re all down here doing our best to build a more
loving, just, equitable, cooperative kingdom on this beautiful and
sometimes difficult earth. Or perhaps a more personal, peaceful kingdom of
God within ourselves? After all, that’s how Nietzsche described it:
Basically my entire childhood was filled with two things: art and
spirituality.
Oh yeah, and dysfunction. I forgot to mention that. Lots and lots of
family dysfunction. And low self-esteem. And a complete and total lack of
any conversation about feelings or the fundamentals of basic human
emotional interactions.
Because, at the end of the day, as “spiritual” as my family appeared,
there was a complete absence of loving expression in our house. Did my
parents (including my birth mother, Shay, who took off when I was two and
who I didn’t really get to know until I was about fifteen) love me? Yes.
Most certainly. To the best of their limited, traumatized ability, my parents
attempted a piss-poor fumbling love for me and, occasionally, each other.
For my dad and stepmom, there were dinners and TV watching and
gardening and dog walking—in other words, all the ingredients of a loving
family. But there was no actual bond in their marriage. In fact, when I asked
them when they knew their union was a mistake and they didn’t actually
belong together, they both said that it was within a year of their wedding—
in 1969. So they did what any two mature people of insight and level heads
would do: they stayed together fifteen more years and then got a divorce the
second I left for college in 1984.
The entirety of this childhood tapestry created in me one cockamamie
suburban cocktail of bohemian weirdness and emotional dissonance on a
galactic scale.
In fact, as a teen I would watch how other kids would act and interact
while at a restaurant or a school event. I would then copy, word for word,
gesture for gesture, how they would behave and emulate their seemingly
“normal” human interactions in order to learn how to fit in better. Kind of
like what an alien in human form would do in order to learn the mysterious
ways of the Homo sapiens. If, say, a teen would say to another friend-teen,
“What’s up, my man!” and give him a friendly one-two pat on the back, I
would try that same gesture out on a couple friends of mine: “What’s up…
um, my man!” along with matching friendly pats, to see if I could interact
with the same effortless casualness.
Needless to say, it worked out perfectly.
So yes, my childhood shaped me this way. This strange petri dish of
experiences—this recipe for weirdness—set the stage for the question at
hand: Why is the guy who played Dwight writing a book on religious and
spiritual ideas?
Another answer to the “why” comes down to this: I almost died. If not
for certain tools, concepts, and teachings that I have found on my own
spiritual search for balance, healing, and perspective, I would not have
made it into adulthood. Or become a successful actor. Or written this damn
book.
I’m not going to get into any gory details, but in my twenties and thirties
I dealt with many mental health issues that caused me incredible pain and
hardship. After graduating from college, I suffered years of debilitating
anxiety attacks and to this day have an ongoing anxiety disorder that I have
to monitor and work on with great seriousness and care. And therapy. Lots
of therapy.
I have undergone long periods of time when I was clinically depressed.
There were times I reached emotional lows from which I felt I would never
escape. I even seriously contemplated suicide. Thankfully, I always got
therapeutic help when I needed it and love from some amazing friends and
family members, and I had a profound partner in my wife, Holiday
Reinhorn, who supported me with great empathy and strength.
And then there’s the other demon of mental (and physical) health:
addiction. After some bouts with drugs and alcohol dependency in my
twenties, I was able to quit with the help of the Twelve-Step Program of
recovery. Pretty much anything you can get addicted to, I have struggled
with at one point or another: food, gambling, porn, work, codependence,
social media, and debt. Even caffeine and sugar. (And now it’s my frigging
iPhone!)
For me, it all comes back to that perpetual subterranean rumble of
anxious discontent, probably stemming from childhood trauma, that I
continually attempted to soothe and escape using external solutions. Over
and over again, to no avail. Because you can’t fix internal imbalance with
alcohol or chocolate chip cookies or video games or weed or sex or even
Instagram, Candy Crush, and Amazon shopping sprees.
It took me a long, long time and a great deal of therapuetic work to
discover the spiritual, emotional, and psychological tools I needed to
understand and eventually quell that inner discomfort and chronic
imbalance.
Like so many spiritual seekers, I “hit bottom” but eventually found a
way forward, a path toward recovery and tranquility. Out of this darkness, I
went on a spiritual journey to help me in my quest for the truth. I
investigated religions and spent many hours reading holy texts and secular
works on the spiritual path. Meditating. Searching for God. For meaning.
For something beyond the material. For transcendence.
In a nutshell, I spent many years in my twenties and thirties on a private,
personal spiritual search, which led me to read most of the holy books of
the world’s major religions. I’m no scholar or expert by any means, but this
quest for the truth compelled me to study the Bible, the Quran, the
Bhagavad Gita, and the Dhammapada and other writings by and about the
Buddha. I also read up on many Native American faiths and belief systems
and caught up on some basics of Western philosophy. I got deeply
reacquainted with the faith of my youth, Baha’i. I prayed and meditated
profusely, attended various religious services, and dug deep into many
central, profound questions: Is there a God? What happens when we die?
Do we have a soul? Why do all these idiots watch The Bachelor?
Soul Boom is not a gut-spilling, soul-wrenching personal biography by
any stretch. (I’ve already written one of those.) I just wanted, in the
preceding pages, to give you a taste, an amuse-bouche, a sampling of my
singular and peculiar prehistory. Today, I’m proud to say that the unusual
backdrop and breeding ground of art, religion, self-loathing, and social
dysfunction made me who I am. Plus, it made me a good candidate for the
role of Dwight and the many other misfit parts I’ve played as an actor
throughout the years.
And so the journey continues!
Aspects of this personal spiritual quest are explored in the Peacock
television series Rainn Wilson and the Geography of Bliss, in which I set off
across the globe to see if there might be any lessons on happiness to be
learned from other cultures.
The same “Life’s Big Questions” that haunted me in my twenties was
the inspirational cornerstone that led to my eventual founding of
SoulPancake, a website, YouTube channel, and production studio that
specialized in creating uplifting content and sparking dialogue about the
beauty and drama of being a human. Our best-selling book, SoulPancake:
Chew on Life’s Big Questions, was a creative workbook based on many of
the profound spiritual issues and inquiries I grappled with in my youth and
continue to wrestle with in the following pages.
I believe exploring “Life’s Big Questions” is an exciting and important
part of our fragile and exhilarating human journey. I have seen this again
and again—in my study of various religious traditions, in my life as a
Baha’i, and in my work with Geography of Bliss, SoulPancake, and the
podcast series Metaphysical Milkshake, which I host with the amazing
author/provocateur Reza Aslan. And my personal battles with mental health
demons have given me firsthand experience in the high-stakes pursuit of
meaning, purpose, and serenity from a spiritual perspective.
Besides, none of the other people who are way smarter and wiser and
more spiritually evolved than me seem to be writing a book about this stuff,
so why the hell not some weird, spiritually curious actor?
So… OK to move forward on the old booky-wook? Have a bit of clarity
on the personal reasons that led me to create Soul Boom?
Good. Just one more thing then. Beyond my personal interest and
journey, there’s a bigger “why” behind this endeavor. My principal and
overriding motivation for writing this book is not as introspectively
personal as the tapestry I’ve just laid out. The truth is found in these words:
So, gentle reader, what topics are we going to tackle in the ensuing
chapters? Some really light material: pandemics, death, God, religion,
holiness, consciousness, suffering, social transformation, and the meaning
of life. That’s about it. We’ll go on sacred pilgrimages to Jerusalem and the
Baha’i holy land as well as into the distant future of humanity. We’ll tackle
small topics like death and God and consciousness and the soul. We’ll
converse with aliens and break down everything that’s currently breaking
down in society, and we’ll even create our own new, awesome religion.
Basically, I’ll be throwing a lot of spiritual spaghetti against the wall, and
hopefully some of it will stick.
I hope this book will ignite discussion and inspire you, gentle reader, to
view some universal spiritual ideas through some different-colored lenses.
Sometimes silly, sometimes profound and earnest, I will attempt to explore
some very old ground with some very new perspectives.
Plus, because I love quotes, along the way there will be a myriad of fun,
inspirational sayings from dead people far wiser than me. Quotes like this
one:
Dost thou reckon thyself only a puny form
When within thee the universe is folded?
—Imam Ali (Islam)
When I think of spirituality and the 1970s, a particular word comes to mind.
It’s not “meditation.” It’s not “LSD.” It’s not “guru” or “incense” or
“chakras.”
It’s “television.”
I spent a lot of time watching television in the 1970s. I mean a lot.
Certainly the great sitcoms like M.A.S.H., All in the Family, The Mary
Tyler Moore Show, and The Bob Newhart Show. Shows that inspired me to
strive to eventually become one of those memorable sitcom sidekick clowns
that I loved and laughed at with such zeal in front of our black-and-white
RCA.
But I was also drawn to these programs because these were families as
real, relatable, and flawed as my own. How I longed to not be in my
dysfunctional family but instead to live with Meathead and Gloria in
Queens, or to be a patient of Bob Newhart in his Chicago practice, or an
intern at WJM TV with Mary Tyler Moore. I would even have taken being
drafted and having to clean latrines at the 4077th M.A.S.H. unit instead of
eating awkward, loveless meatloaf with the Wilson family of Lake Forest
Park, Washington.
And isn’t that the reason so many people watch TV? Binge-watch our
favorite shows on repeat? No matter what the milieu—a police station, a
spaceship, a Scranton paper company—we long to spend time with those
fictional, loving, flawed, funny families. Perhaps a little bit more than we
long to be in our own.
But when I peer back through the yellow haze of time toward that
shaggy decade, there were two shows that framed both my identity and my
spiritual journey. And, crazily enough, I also believe these two shows—
Kung Fu and Star Trek—define and put into perspective what the reality of
our spiritual journey actually is.
The first of these shows was the masterpiece Kung Fu, a program that
defined the 1970s and reflected its ethos and underbelly. Originally
conceived by (and appropriated / stolen from) the great Bruce Lee, Kung Fu
followed Kwai Chang Caine, the orphaned child of a white man and a
Chinese woman, who grew up in a Shaolin monastery in China in the late
1800s, was frequently called “grasshopper,” and learned to fight like a
badass. As a nineteenth-century adult, he makes his way to America during
the cowboy days of the Old West to search for his half brother, Danny
Caine. A stranger in an even stranger land.
Everywhere Kwai Chang Caine (let’s call him KCC) went, he would
bring his moral clarity, Eastern wisdom, and spiritual enlightenment to the
rough-and-tumble, violent chaos of the Old West. Each episode would
include some kind of moral quandary and some form of social injustice
where KCC would stand up for the little guys, peaceably at first, using great
reason and compassion and, finally, culminating in a big, ubiquitous “Kung
Fu Monk Pushed to the Limit Takes on Racist Mean Cowboy” fistfight.
David Carradine (Bill in Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill) was wise beyond
all measure (and had an amazing dragon kick as well). In looking back at
the show, however, all one can think now is, “Why the hell did they cast a
white guy to play a Chinese dude!?” And also, to a lesser extent, “Wait a
minute, that’s not really him doing all those martial arts moves, is it? It
looks like they cut away from him at the last second and are showing
someone else’s foot making contact with that evil deputy’s chin!”
But egregious institutional racism aside, Carradine’s depth and
believability as a Buddhist monk was still off the charts. Especially for a
gawky nine-year-old spiritual seeker in suburban Seattle in 1975.
KCC had a beautiful, soulful repose. A quiet, peaceful, centered energy
that shone in stark contrast to the drunken, Asian-hating Western men he
was often in conflict with. When someone would say something impulsive,
mean-spirited, irrational, and lacking in compassion (which happened about
thirty-seven times an episode), his face would flinch, and you could feel the
pain inside of his warm, calm Shaolin heart.
(By the way, guest stars during the course of the short-lived [three
seasons] show included Jodie Foster, Leslie Nielsen, Harrison Ford, Carl
Weathers, William Shatner, Pat Morita, and Gary Busey. I mean, what a
cast!)
I cannot describe to you how much I loved this show. I would watch it
every time it was on. I searched through the TV listings in the Sunday paper
every week to see when reruns might be available. My friends and I would
attempt to reenact the fight scenes and would argue vociferously about who
would be allowed to play KCC. Although it was equally fun to play the
“racist cowboy,” because then you would get to swear and spit a lot.
And it was slooooow. Man, was it slow. It was slow even compared to
the molasses pace of your average 1970s one-hour drama. It made The
Waltons look like 24. This was not your modern TV show by any stretch of
the imagination. Endless conversations in poorly lit cabins. Loooong walks
down Western wagon trails that looked suspiciously like roads just off the
Warner Brothers back lot in the hills above Burbank. And that flute. There
would be drawn-out shots of KCC with his wooden flute playing baleful,
vaguely Chinese melodies. And then there was the bread and butter of the
show—the flashbacks.
When KCC would come up against some dilemma, a gauzy haze would
fall over the camera lens, a Chinese flute would play, a candle flame would
come into blurred, flickering focus, and we would be back in the Shaolin
monastery with KCC and his teachers, Master Kan and Master Po.
Master Po was a blind monk with haunting milk-white corneas who
once memorably said, “Never assume that because a man has no eyes, he
cannot see.” (So true, Master Po, so true.)
Master Kan, who famously called young novitiate KCC “grasshopper,”
would hold out his palm with a pebble in it: “When you can snatch the
pebble from my hand, then it will be time for you to leave.” Young KCC
would try again and again to snatch the pebble, and when he finally did, he
proved his mastery of self. Only then was he allowed to pick up with his
bare forearms a giant, flaming-hot metal urn with red-hot coals inside and a
dragon emblem on its surface, leaving him with dragon burn-scar tattoos
embossed on his arms that forever labeled him as a Shaolin priest. He
would then walk on rice paper, laid out on the ground like a rug, without his
feet leaving a mark. After passing these tests he was ready, at long last, to
venture forth from the monastery.
Every episode dealt with the darkest shadows of human nature and their
remedy, the corresponding spiritual opposite. There would be an episode
about revenge, for instance, where some persecuted woman on a farm wants
retribution against some mean rancher, and we would gauzily, flutily flash
back to KCC’s master saying, “Vengeance is a water vessel with a hole. It
carries nothing but the promise of emptiness. Repay injury with justice and
forgiveness, but kindness always with kindness.” And then we would see
KCC struggle with but ultimately follow his mentor’s strictures in said
episode. And not only that—KCC would teach others around him the ways
of the spiritual guides from his childhood in China. His tranquility and
Jesus-like energy would affect and transform those around him. And
ultimately positively change the millions of polyester-clad audience
members watching from their sofas as well.
From that nineteenth-century monastery (which was, fun fact, the castle
from the musical Camelot where Robert Goulet and his mustache sang “If
Ever I Would Leave You,” dressed up to look like an ancient Chinese
religious / martial arts community with ivy and stone paths, waterfalls,
bells, and bamboo chimes) streamed wisdom that holds just as true today as
it did in 1975 (or 1875). Teachings that could have come from Jesus or the
Buddha or the Prophet Mohammed.
So, friends, it’s time for us to play a little game:
TEXT!
6 “Real believers walk with modesty; and when the foolish ones address
them with harsh words, they reply: ‘peace!’”
7 “Peace lies not in the world… but in the man who walks the path.”
8 “Do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for
itself. Let the day’s own trouble be sufficient for the day.”
11 “A tranquil heart gives life to the flesh but envy makes the bones rot.”
Whether we are aware of it or not, we are each KCC in our own way. We
seek to gain wisdom, nurture our virtues, and master the darker, more ego-
filled parts of ourselves. Every single reader draws on the wisdom of his or
her past, the teachings of one’s parents or faith tradition or important
mentors. We all want to become better people, to have our hearts be true
and our souls radiant. And we seek this in spite of the vicissitudes of the
world that we confront on a daily basis.
Let’s try a simple little exercise. Imagine yourself in 2023 America (or
wherever you may be) as a contemporary monk. A wise disciple of both an
ancient philosophy and a martial art practice with roots thousands of years
old. You are lean and adept in your body. Calm of mind and open of heart.
You step out the door of your house/apartment/building and go to your
car/subway/bus. You have your keys, your wallet, your phone, your coffee
sippy mug. You are on a journey. A journey of the day that lies in front of
you and the greater journey of your search for meaning and purpose.
You’re off to seek to make a living for your family or become educated
in a school, perhaps. Maybe you’re going to go shopping for the household
or to a job interview.
What will you encounter in our modern world? Countless frenzied
people rushing about their lives? Staring at their phones in their cars, on
sidewalks, on buses, on elevators, and at desks? Ingesting an ever-
refreshing fountain of news, emails, images, memes, videos, and updates
from family and friends? Updates that, while they refresh on your phone,
never really seem to refresh your mind, heart, and soul.
But from this frenzy, just for today, you take a break. You have enough
information and updates and memes and images in your head for the time
being.
And if you let those distractions go, what else will you encounter in the
outside world? Not a drunk, angry cowboy, but perhaps some forces equally
as toxic. Someone being rude or judgmental, perhaps. Self-centeredness,
probably. Conflict. Anxiety. Rage. Things not going as planned. People
behaving badly. Some type of suffering. Rejection. Or, perhaps,
disappointment (one of the most difficult and complex feelings for me
personally to encounter).
And how will you meet these challenges? Will you be buffeted around
like a leaf in a storm? Or will you accept them as part of life? As the
Buddha (supposedly) said, “Pain is certain. Suffering is optional.”
Will you allow the unevolved cretins around you to affect your serenity
and determine what course of action you take? Or will you deftly,
metaphorically slip by them, seeking not contention but to “win not by
fighting”? Will you wisely, placidly, draw on your deep well of inner
wisdom and navigate these issues like a willow tree in the wind?
We are all, after all, little KCCs on the road through the Old West, beset
by tests and having to overcome both external obstacles and the insistent
cries of the wants, needs, and unchecked passions of the inner ego.
In many religious traditions, we are on the planet for basically two
reasons. Our mission / purpose / raison d’être has two components, two
paths. In the Baha’i Faith (and I just love this guidance because it is so
simple and clear), we call it our “twofold moral purpose.”
On the one hand, our spiritual journey is about our personal
transformation. Spirituality and religion should make our lives better and
show us a path toward personal peace and enlightenment. If it doesn’t do
either of those two things, then we should all jettison it. The wisdom of
faith either makes our lives better, increases serenity, and makes us better
people, or there is really no reason to have it in our lives.
Kung Fu is an expression of this first part of the twofold path. The
personal, internal one. As we seek to walk the spiritual path with practical
(occasionally ass-kicking) feet, we are frequently daunted by the hurdles
thrown at us by the outside world. And, more importantly, we are often
overwhelmed by the obstacles that we ourselves create. Ones that arise
from within to keep us stuck and immobilized, and occasionally to throw
our lives into chaos. We let “overwhelm” and “resistance” keep us from
achieving the goals we’ve set for ourselves. We often have negative internal
voices that consistently and corrosively tear us down and hold us back. We
become slaves to addictions that sabotage us and blow up our lives or
insidiously eat away at us from the inside. Negative character traits like
envy, jealousy, anger, and resentment oftentimes toxify our lives, moving us
ever further away from the life we dream of—a rich, satisfying one filled
with joy and contentment. The list goes on and on.
Spiritual traditions and teachings, I believe, are like the Shaolin training
of KCC. They are a set of tools that, when practiced (sometimes over and
over and over again), can help us navigate the rocky shoals of an uncaring,
overwhelming outside world. A world that requires rent and work and
health care premiums. A world fraught with rejection, stress, idiot bosses,
and crazy roommates. External temptations and seductions from drugs,
alcohol, sex, power, prestige, status, money, and the endless screen-fueled
distractions that live in our pants pockets.
When you can snatch the pebble from the hand of your self, that is when
you will pass the ultimate test. When you can effortlessly walk the rice
paper of your own ego without leaving a mark, that is when you can leave
the symbolic monastery as a master—a master of your darker, more selfish
impulses. A spiritual warrior-monk emerging into the world in order to face
dark and dangerous adversities and dark and dangerous temptations.
Most people’s spiritual paths end there, at the personal. When most
people think of spiritual tools for change, growth, and finding peace, they
think of themselves working internally to increase serenity, perspective, and
wisdom. In contemporary American culture, we rarely view a spiritual path
as having much, if anything, to do with the peace, serenity, and wisdom of
the totality of humanity.
This leads me to the next part of the journey—the other branch of our
twofold moral purpose: our spiritual journey not as an individual but as a
collective, a species on a planet—a planet that we are on the verge of
destroying.
Enter Star Trek. That great 1970s TV show that addresses this very issue.
Gene Roddenberry’s original masterpiece. (Note: I am very aware that Star
Trek was a ’60s TV show. But it didn’t achieve relevance and popularity
until the ’70s. So bite my phaser.)
Star Trek is a difficult mythology and cultural phenomenon to
encapsulate. Perhaps, dear reader, you have seen every episode and, like
me, have every other line memorized. Or, more likely, you’ve only seen one
or two and have only the vaguest idea of what the show is about, aside from
knowing some of its venerated pop-cultural phrases like “Beam me up,
Scotty,” “To boldly go where no man has gone before,” and (Scottish
accent) “I’m doing the best I can, Captain!”
To summarize. In the twenty-third century, humanity is boldly seeking
out new life and new civilizations with its navy of starships called Starfleet.
The show follows the starship USS Enterprise, helmed by Captain James T.
Kirk, played by the legendary William Shatner. He and his stalwart crew,
including the half-Vulcan Spock (Leonard Nimoy), are exploring star
systems on the outskirts of the galaxy, responding to distress calls, and
generally having all sorts of fun, dangerous, science-fictiony adventures in
snazzy form-fitting uniforms.
Their humanity is put to the test in each episode. The cast and crew of
the Enterprise are challenged both personally and professionally, morally
and intellectually, metaphorically and practically.
What may be most important about Star Trek is that the human race has
worked out its problems on planet Earth through both science and an
emotional wisdom comprised of restraint, reason, and maturity. This
spiritually and intellectually awakened humanity then seeks to spread and
share its evolved nature while exploring the galaxy in a peaceful manner.
The viewer can watch Star Trek simply on a basic level, as a science-
fiction action show with laser beams, spaceships, cool aliens, and
memorable characters. Many people do. To a large extent, that’s what drew
my six-year-old fanboy self to the show in the early ’70s. (And,
unfortunately, the most recent series of J. J. Abrams–produced films
function almost exclusively on this level.)
But the miracle of Star Trek and why it stands the test of time as a
paragon of great television is how it lives on a symbolic level. In Star Trek,
everything is a metaphor. (As is everything on this physical plane. Just ask
Plato. More on that later.)
The show metaphorically tackled all of 1960s society’s greatest
challenges—war, racism, technological advancement—from the point of
view of an enlightened human race. This wasn’t a show about personal
growth; it was a show about collective transformation.
Take racism, a scourge that has killed millions over the centuries, incited
hate, and kept humanity divided since the dawn of time. Roddenberry and
his cracker-jack sci-fi writing staff tackle this issue in multiple episodes of
the show. Why? Because Roddenberry believed that this was an issue that
humanity would inevitably overcome in its eventual maturation.
“Intolerance in the twenty-third century? Improbable!” Roddenberry
said. “If man survives that long, he will have learned to take delight in the
essential differences between men and between cultures.”
He also said, “We must learn to live together, or most certainly we will
soon all die together.”
Delight in the essential differences between cultures? Cool! (“Unity in
diversity” is one of the central teachings of the Baha’i Faith, and as a young
Baha’i, my Ba-mind was officially blown.)
As an example, in the episode “Let That Be Your Last Battlefield,” a
man who is black on the right side of his body and white on the left side is
fighting a man who is white on the right side and black on the left. Bele and
Lokai.
For tens of thousands of years, the people of the planet Cheron have
been at war, simply because of the reverse nature of their shiny
complexions. Bele and Lokai have been chasing each other in the galaxy for
fifty thousand years, locked in hatred. When they board the Enterprise and
are taken back to Cheron, everyone there is dead. Consumed in the fires of
an intense war of racism. And Bele and Lokai can’t see what is patently
obvious—that they are from the same stock. Just look at this exchange:
So long as the sky and the world exist, my existence will be here for
the eradication of the miseries of all beings.
Wander forth for the good of the many, for the welfare of the many,
in compassion for the world.
Give justice to the weak and the fatherless; maintain the right of the
afflicted and the destitute. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver
them from the hand of the wicked.
And Jesus:
Whoever is generous to the poor lends to the Lord, and He will repay
him for his deed.
Let your vision be world embracing rather than confined to your own
selves.
And:
And that, dearest reader, is what the Star Trek modality of spiritual
growth is all about.
What good is a spiritual path that only enriches our own inner peace
while hundreds of millions go hungry? And conversely, how do we
sustainably serve those millions if our hearts are hard, empty, cold, and
filled with selfish ego or materialistic motives? How can there be peace
without justice? There is an ongoing dance, a conversation between the
twofold moral paths that lie ahead of us. We seek personal enlightenment so
that we can serve more, have an outward orientation, and help create a
better world. And when we undertake this service, we are in turn internally
awakened and fulfilled to an even greater degree.
Because, ultimately, we sojourn forth with two forces in our hearts—two
icons from the 1970s holding hands like the yin and yang—two ass-kicking
guides to our spiritual journey, ushering us along the mysterious road of the
soul, one leading us toward inner tranquility and the other toward the
progress of humanity itself: Master Kwai Chang Cain and Captain James T.
Kirk.
CHAPTER TWO
A PLETHORA OF PANDEMICS
It is difficult
to get the news from poems
yet men die miserably every day
for lack
of what is found there.
—William Carlos Williams
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
DEATHS OF DESPAIR
According to Brookings, around seventy thousand people in the United
States died annually from suicide or drug- and alcohol-related deaths
between 2005 and 2019. Mental health specialists call these “deaths of
despair.”
DRUG ADDICTION
• In 2020, the CDC reported that 68,630 people died from opioid-
related overdoses. (And that’s down from previous years!)
• More than 932,000 people have died from a drug overdose
since 1999. Two out of three drug overdose deaths in 2018
involved an opioid.
• In 2019, an estimated 9.7 million people misused prescription
pain relievers and 745,000 people used heroin.
SUICIDE
• The rate of suicide-related thoughts and outcomes among
young adults increased by 47 percent from 2008 to 2017.
• Suicide is the second leading cause of death among people
aged ten to fourteen and the third leading cause of death
among those aged fifteen to twenty-four in the US.
• Annual prevalence of serious thoughts of suicide, by US
demographic group:
4.9 percent of all adults
25.5 percent of young adults aged eighteen to twenty-four
18.8 percent of high school students
23.4 percent of LGBTQ+ teens
(Stop and take this in for a moment, will you? Almost one in five
high school students have thought seriously about suicide this
year!)
LONELINESS
• According to the 2020 Census, 37 million adults ages eighteen
and older now live on their own, up from 33 million in 2011.
Loneliness has the equivalent negative effects on health as
smoking fifteen cigarettes a day.
• A recent Cigna study shows that senior citizens (those seventy-
two years old and older) have historically been the loneliest
demographic. But in 2018, young adults ages eighteen to
twenty-two reported feeling lonely at significantly higher rates
than seniors, who are now the least lonely generation, while
members of Gen Z are lonely at rates of almost 50 percent.
• A recent Harvard report suggests that 36 percent of Americans
—including 61 percent of young adults—feel “serious
loneliness.” Forty-three percent of young adults reported
increases in loneliness since the outbreak of the COVID-19
pandemic.
SOCIAL MEDIA
• The National Library of Medicine reports that since 2018 there
has been a nearly 13 percent rise in loneliness. Heavy users of
social media were lonelier as compared to light users. Feelings
of isolation were prevalent, with Gen Z (ages eighteen to
twenty-two at the time of the study) having the highest average
loneliness score.
• According to a study published by the American Psychological
Association, a possible contributing factor in the nation’s rise in
mental illness could be the increasing use of social media.
Online interaction has taken precedence over face-to-face
communication, perpetuating isolation and loneliness. Youth
between the ages of eighteen and twenty-four who experienced
psychological distress increased to 74.9 percent in 2020.
PANDEMICS APLENTY
Professors Merriam and Webster define a pandemic as “an outbreak of a
disease that occurs over a wide geographic area (such as multiple countries
or continents) and typically affects a significant proportion of the
population.”
Besides the decline in our mental health, as well as the obvious COVID-
19 pandemic of our modern times, which has claimed seven million lives by
the close of 2022, our globe is being rocked with a myriad of other
catastrophic dark forces at work on the world’s population today.1
RACISM
At the same time that the COVID-19 pandemic was ravaging hospitals
around the world, here in the United States, cities erupted after witnessing
the brutal, slow, public murder of George Floyd by a police officer in
Minneapolis. A rage that had been rightfully percolating for a couple of
centuries once again exploded onto streets across the country. Passionate
protesters of all races sought both justice for innocent black lives as well as
a definitive change in the corrupt systems that surround us.
It was a poignant expression of another great pandemic of our time—
racism.
Whichever country one goes to, one can find the markers of racism: its
inherent qualities of contempt, distrust, and arrogance, as well as the
resulting injustice and anguish that it inevitably causes for those it
disenfranchises. Due to a particularly dark, violent, and complex history, it
may be difficult to find a place where racism is as virulent as it is in the
United States, but all across the globe there are tribes that feel themselves
superior to other tribes, races that have conquered and enslaved other races,
and peoples that have a long, violent history of socially and economically
subjugating other peoples.
Because at racism’s core is the idea of otherness. Like many other
human behaviors that might have once served some kind of initial survival
purpose but are now obsolete and destructive, otherness, one could
potentially argue, is something that might have aided humanity in earlier
epochs.
For instance: Our tribe, which has curly hair and big feet and lives in
this cave, is far better than the tribe that has straight hair and little feet and
lives in that cave. Our people in this valley are way better than the idiots
who live in that other valley. Our village is so much better than that other
village. Our skin color and the way we make our clubs is far superior, so
let’s conquer them, rob them, and take them as slaves! Our
city/culture/nation has a prerogative to subjugate them because of the
disgust-inducing otherness of that other city/culture/nation.
Then, eventually, those racist impulses become systematized and
institutionalized and much more difficult to unravel. Racism goes hand in
hand with the power, militarism, and domination in historical human
expansion. (Especially, it should be noted, with the Spanish Requerimiento
of 1513, in which the conquistadors read a screed to “less than human”
natives, informing them of the Spaniards’ God-given right to conquer and
enslave justified on a misreading of Catholic principles. Look it up.)
In actuality, when you examine human DNA, you cannot determine the
race of the person. Social scientists see race as nothing but a construct, a
classification created with the ultimate goal of oppression and othering.
Our outmoded social structures have evolved alongside us, from cave to
tribe to valley to village to town to city to fiefdom to kingdom to state to
nation to the entire world! And yet we cling to ancient hatreds and
prejudices that still cause untold suffering. This racist othering needs to be
reexamined and dismantled, with a prime focus put on restitution and
healing.
But how?
I have no idea.
We’ll dig into this in greater detail later, but essentially by healing the
spiritual disease of otherness as well as making broken systems more just
and fair, we can eventually envision and create the big, diverse human
family most of us long for.
SEXISM
Now, if you’ll allow me, buckle up your seat belts and let me “mansplain”
sexism for you.
Gender-based discrimination is another of our current societal
pandemics and one that has existed for millennia.
Despite the recent progress made with the #MeToo movement in
Hollywood and the workplace, women around the world continue to be
routinely belittled, abused, held back financially, and disempowered.
Whether they are being sexually degraded, objectified, or paid less than
their male peers (as in the United States), or treated like broodmares
without any basic human rights, as in some areas of the world, one thing is
certain: discrimination against women is one of the great global evils of our
time and of times past.
In 2013, my wife and I and some Haitian friends started an education
initiative in rural Haiti called Lidè Haiti, which centers around providing
arts and literacy, scholarships, tutoring, and many other benefits to young
Haitian girls. Our students are some of the poorest in the world, working in
the farmlands of the Artibonite region. The word “subjugated” doesn’t
really do justice to how the average Haitian girl is treated. Starting at age
nine or ten, they are made to get up before dawn to boil water and make
breakfast, a meal they themselves rarely get to enjoy. Haitian girls do all the
cleaning and childcare while most of the grown men relax and chat away
much of the day. Young girls are expected to work the fields and sell the
food in markets. They rarely get any schooling beyond the basics of a
second- or third-grade education and are frequently sexually abused as well
as trafficked to the nearby Dominican Republic. Often these young girls are
“sold” or “loaned” to uncaring families in the city as restaveks, unpaid
domestic workers who, like indentured servants, receive room and board
(and only in the rarest of circumstances an education) in lieu of
compensation. Although the lives of adolescent boys in the region can also
be incredibly difficult, they do not undergo near the amount of exploitation,
disrespect, and overwork that their sisters do.
This is a portrait of your average rural Haitian girl, but it is also a
comparative snapshot of the more than 130 million girls around the
developing world who are not in school.
Fortunately, we have found education to be a path not only out of
poverty but also out of subjugation. It creates resilience, hope, and
community as well.
Meanwhile, in parts of the world with higher living standards, there are
also severe problems: we see reproductive rights being rolled back in the
United States, wives being beaten legally in Russia, and Iranian women and
girls arrested and killed for not wearing the hijab. “Women! Life!
Freedom!” is being shouted at the police on the streets of Tehran. It is clear
that we have a long way to go before this pandemic is healed.
There is far too much to say about the countless generations of
subjugation of women by men throughout history to do this incredibly
important topic any kind of justice in a couple of brief paragraphs.
As we bring ever greater justice into our laws and governments as well
as instill in our young ones the vital importance of girls’ education, the
power of motherhood, and the sacred awesomeness of the divine feminine,
women’s rights and empowerment will inevitably flourish.
MATERIALISM
Our next world-encompassing disease from the Soul Boom pandemic buffet
is that of materialism and its chief expression—consumerism.
Steal a little and they put you in jail; steal a lot and they make you
king.
—Bob Dylan
This isn’t that different from wealth and consumerism in the modern
world. Accruing stuff. Showing it off. Stockpiling. Gaining power, status,
and self-esteem from ownership.
Down in our ancient caveman brainstems there lies a series of deeply
embedded synapses that deal in the instincts, fears, and impulses that
inspire the amassing of goods. Pleasurable dopamine is released when we
feel we have accumulated enough things, afforded ourselves increased
comfort, and are safe with all of our “stuff.”
I remember when the COVID-19 lockdown first started and things like
toilet paper, canned goods, and pasta flew off the shelves. My wife, Holiday,
was at the store during that first week, and she showed me on her phone
how the shelves were empty except for a few bags of strange, obscure,
expensive foreign beans. I told her, “BUY THE BEANS! ALL OF THEM! BUY THE
EXPENSIVE FOREIGN BEANS!” I felt a twinge of that prehistoric panic. I didn’t
want to STARVE! TO! DEATH! in my nice house in leafy, suburban Los
Angeles! Can you imagine? So she came home with strange-shaped navy
beans and sorghum and crazy expensive black Japanese soybeans, which,
even as I write this, are sitting in my cupboard gathering dust and will
probably never be eaten. But dagnabbit, my ancient caveman deprivation
brain-terror had been placated. Soothed with weird Japanese beans.
These same tendencies play out to this day on the pages of Vanity Fair,
in music videos, and on reality shows. Increased status, sexual dynamism,
power, and esteem—all achieved through the accumulation of things.
And let’s not forget that some of the most popular videos for young
people on YouTube are “unboxing” videos, which regularly rack up
hundreds of millions of views. In these vomitous, glossily lit
entertainments, the host is literally narrating the unwrapping and
showcasing of a toy, an electronic good, or a high-end designer fashion
accessory for the camera with rapturous awe.
When mass public consumerism gained momentum in the twentieth
century, especially with the rise of advertising on radio and television, ad
agencies began their reign. They figured out rather quickly how to stimulate
those deep human brain synapses in order to manipulate us into wanting to
buy more and more, to convince us that we needed stuff that we had
previously been just fine without. Following the findings of behaviorist
B. F. Skinner, the “Mad Men” learned about dopamine responses and
reward stimuli and used it to affect consumer behavior. (Later, this same
psychological map would be tapped by social media companies as well as
app and game developers to harness the same “uncertainty” and
“variability” reward system that a slot machine uses.)
That same panicked FOMO (fear of missing out) that I experienced at
the beginning of the pandemic with those weird Japanese beans has been
fostered and cultivated in board meetings on Madison Avenue for decades.
How are we going to get Joe Smith to buy Colgate instead of Crest, or
Chevy over Ford, or this floor wax versus that floor wax? Will we use sex?
(This particular brand will make you more attractive.) Fear? (This brand
will stop dangerous things from happening.) Status? (This brand will make
you more well liked and revered.) Well-being? (This brand will make you
feel sated and content.)
These same manipulations are also used to make people want to buy
things they “never knew they needed!” Things they had never bought
previously! How often have we perused ads online and been tempted by the
picture, description, or emotional aura around a new object?
A few years ago, everyone was talking about the Instant Pot. My wife
and I don’t really cook anything but the basics (i.e., scrambled eggs), but I
had to have an Instant Pot. I saw ads and read articles about how easy it
made cooking and how simple it was to make a nourishing and tasty meal. I
mean, look at the name—it even has the word “instant” in it! It’s like the
replicator from Star Trek—you just think what you want, and it will emerge,
steaming and delicious, right?
And now? My Instant Pot literally has not been plugged in for three
years. (Actually, now that I think about it… I could cook some of those
weird Japanese beans in it. Crisis averted! Win, win!)
My hope is that as we develop an understanding of our spiritual reality,
and seek ever greater levels of community and an economy based on
sharing, our ancient primal need to amass and obtain at all costs will be
replaced with that other primal need: to lend, give, sacrifice, and
collaborate.
CLIMATE CHANGE
And now we get to the granddaddy—and by some accounts, most
complicated—of all pandemics: climate change.
On one level, it’s quite simple. Man-made CO2 and other greenhouse
gases released predominantly by the energy sector, manufacturing,
commercial agriculture, air conditioning, construction, deforestation, and
transportation are creating a heat-trapping blanket layer around Earth.
The repercussions of this “global warming,” such as extreme weather
systems, ocean acidification, glacial melt, and loss of biodiversity (i.e.,
extinction), take a deadly toll. Also complicating climate change is that its
impact first affects the poorest populations (usually people of color) and the
tens or hundreds of millions of climate refugees that are already surging
from the south to the north.
As a matter of fact, the entire Syrian civil war and its resulting refugee
crisis, which had a devastating effect on much of the Middle East and
Europe, was initiated by a climate change–induced drought, the worst in
Syria’s modern history. That drought, combined with record unemployment,
moved the country toward a brutal civil war and subsequent humanitarian
disaster. There will be many more of these human disasters to come.
If you dig deeper, addressing climate change is far more complicated
than simply reducing CO2 emissions. The underbelly of this pandemic
reveals many forces at work: consumerism, capitalism, competition, profit,
and greed. Ultimately, the climate disaster is caused by the corrosive
disease of gluttonous consumption and an addictive need for nonstop
economic growth that sucks resources into the ever-smoking crack pipe of
“economic progress.” It is “money-making über alles” that trumps any kind
of connection to and respect for the sanctity of nature and the balance of the
universe. Mother Earth being used as both an endless mine for exploitation
and a garbage dump. Climate issues are intricately and inextricably
intertwined with, into, and around social justice issues as well as the have-
ish-ness and have-not-ishness I outlined in the earlier pandemics.
And yet this particular pandemic is preventable. Or at least salvageable.
If (and this is quite a big “if”) the world, in its strongest possible committed
action, comes together around the international accords of the Paris
Agreement of 2016. If we ban coal. If we cease exploring for oil. If we tax
polluters. If we plant a couple billion trees. If we limit beef consumption
and stop deforestation. If we develop renewable energy sources like wind,
solar, and geothermal.
That’s a lot of “ifs.”
But the most important of these “ifs” is if, as part of a spiritual
revolution, we work together to live in modest harmony alongside the
natural world and with right-sized economic growth.
When you stop and deeply consider these insidious pandemics of injustice,
disease, and imbalance, you start to see connections between them that
make it much more difficult to examine them individually. Climate change
is intricately connected to GREED and its resulting MATERIALISM,
which eats away at most every culture in the world. Greed is connected to
SELFISHNESS, which is a vice that lies behind, beneath, and around the
economic injustices that dovetail into RACISM and SEXISM. Selfishness
also links up with the NARCISSISM and EGO that fuels militarism and
NATIONALISM and contributes to the alienation that triggers
LONELINESS and MENTAL HEALTH STRUGGLES, which are made
worse by materialism, bringing us right back to where we started!
Fortunately, there is hope.
I return to the early days of the COVID-19 health crisis and the
concurrent racial uprisings sparked by the murder of George Floyd. At that
time, the world community of human beings were “all in this together.”
Compassion was at an all-time high as we suffered alongside communities
as diverse as Italy, Brazil, and grieving black moms in, say, Minneapolis.
The world seemed so interconnected.
We Homo sapiens are struggling to emerge from our turbulent
adolescence into our inevitable maturity and wisdom. However, our species,
like a pill-popping, porn-obsessed, cocktail-swilling, cocaine-fueled
teenager, may need to “hit bottom” and go to some kind of metaphorical
rehab before any significant change is ultimately made.
What does that look like? Well, just like with an addict, all the chickens
of denial need to eventually come home to roost. All the issues that keep
getting pushed to the back burner and swept under the carpet will rise up,
and we will be forced to face the various pandemics I’ve outlined here.
But how? How do we solve these overwhelming issues? Through
increased legislation, voting, and changes to jurisprudence? Through
modifications to economic policy and social welfare on the national and
international level? More global treaties? More regulation? More
international cooperation?
Of course, these legislative changes are crucial. In the United States, we
needed to abolish slavery with the Thirteenth Amendment. It was
imperative that we, as a culture striving for ever-increasing justice and
equality, uphold Brown v. Board of Education, approve the Voting Rights
Act, and eliminate Jim Crow laws. We’ve passed plenty of much-needed
laws to try and eradicate the gross injustices perpetrated against America’s
black citizens. All of that legislation was crucial. But did it heal us? Did it
do anything about white America’s tendency toward racism?
Not even close.
In 2009, we even elected a black president who left office eight years
later with an approval rating of 57 percent. A president who (according to
most of my secular/urban/liberal friends) was supposed to unite our nation,
provide hope, and build bridges between the races. And yet, somehow, the
backlash to his presidency fueled even greater division and actually
increased a virulent prejudice against immigrants, Muslims, members of the
LGBTQ+ population, and many types of those aforementioned “others.”
The cultural, psychological, and yes, spiritual roots of the cancer of
“otherness” are still very much alive and well.
The fundamental cancer doesn’t have an immediate political solution
because, as much as they might appear to be at first glance, the problems
themselves are not essentially political.
They have only a spiritual cure, because when you examine them
deeply, the issues, imbalances, and diseases are actually spiritual in nature.
As long as we have a competitive, antagonistic, self-centered way of
interacting with each other, we will never be able to overcome any of these
toxic, life-threatening pandemics.
And this, my friends, my readers, my fellow humans, brings me
(finally!) to my thesis and the ultimate purpose of this book. A thesis that, I
hope, will gradually unfold and become clear over the coming chapters.
This is why we need a spiritual revolution!
The solutions to the global pandemics that face us as a species don’t lie
in the halls of government but in every human heart and soul.
Jesus asked us to “love thy neighbor as thyself.”
The Buddha once said, “Whoever would think, on the basis of a body
like this, to exalt himself or disparage another: What is that if not
blindness?”
The Quran states, “Allah loveth the just dealers.”
Baha’u’llah writes, “Let your heart burn with loving-kindness for all
who may cross your path.”
The Hindu teacher Sri M says, “Love is a many-splendored entity.…
You want to give, want to sacrifice your personal convenience for the sake
of your beloved.… I plead, please, that we fall in love with humanity as a
whole.”
In Judaism, tikkun olam refers to the divine prerogative, or a type of
aleinu (our duty), toward repairing the world.
Again, as Mr. William Carlos Williams, the poet who launched this
chapter, so pointedly brought to our attention, men die miserably every day
for lack of what is found in poems. And I propose that humanity suffers
every day from lack of spirituality—the nourishment that can be found in
the ancient wisdom-based writings for the soul, those achingly beautiful
words that stream from the one Divine Source. Teachings that have been
around in one form or another for a very long time—inspired, holy wisdom
we desperately need to revolutionize and transform how we approach,
consider, and ultimately address everything we humans do on planet Earth.
Because the keys necessary to this much-needed transformational
change can be found in the core of spiritual writings, holy texts, and
essential teachings of the various religious faiths throughout history.
Do not fear, skeptics, atheists, antireligionists, and agnostics. We don’t
need to ascribe to any particular faith in order to put these practices to use
individually or collectively. There is, after all, a significant difference
between “spirituality” and “religion.” It’s why “spiritual but not religious”
is the largest, fastest-growing belief system in our country.
However, while we don’t need religion per se, we do need to be in a
humble enough posture of learning to admit the following:
As a species, we are quite lost right now, and perhaps the systems,
beliefs, practices, and behaviors that society is currently operating under are
simply not working. Maybe they are founded on some faulty, unsustainable
assumptions. Maybe political parties, international intergovernmental
organizations, and our Washington, DC, leaders, won’t fix us. Maybe our
existing economic systems, nonprofits, and social movements don’t have
the answers either.
We need another way forward. A soul-inspired revolution.
But before we can understand what that looks like, we need to gain the
vastest possible perspective and go all the way forward. As far forward as
we can go. Forward to the very end.
To the Big Sleep itself.
Footnotes
1 Disclaimer: I am not any kind of expert on the following topics. I’m certain that within each of
these categories, I have missed vital elements and summarized ineffectively. Also, it must be
acknowledged that I am among the most privileged and entitled of humans (white, male, tall,
wealthy, famous, outrageously handsome, world-class athlete), and my all-too-brief and superficial
encapsulations of some of the world’s most virulent issues must be taken with a grain of salt.
Apologies in advance.
2 There’s absolutely nothing wrong with someone like Jeff Bezos, Bill Gates, or Mark Zuckerberg
founding an amazing, innovative company and profiting from it. However, it is not just or right for
these men to be able to amass, ruthlessly protect, and frivolously spend this staggering wealth while
hundreds of millions of other humans suffer. The immensity of the income gap between billionaires
and the impoverished is, quite simply, unjust and unsustainable.
CHAPTER THREE
When you are in doubt as to which you should serve, forsake the
material appearance for the invisible principle, for this is everything.
—Alexandre Dumas
I was screwed. My father was dead, and his body was laying on a metal
table at a funeral home. We only had an hour to wash it in preparation for
burial, according to the Baha’i funeral rites. However, there wasn’t any kind
of appropriate bowl to hold the water for said washing. Sweat pouring off
me, I jumped in my deceased father’s pickup truck and tore out of the
funeral home parking lot, on a quest for this holy grail of bowls in the
remote farming town of Wenatchee, Washington.
Preparation of a body for burial in the Baha’i tradition involves ritually
washing the corpse, saying prayers, wrapping the body in a shroud, and
placing on the deceased’s finger a special ring, which reads,
I came forth from God, and return unto Him, detached from all save
Him, holding fast to His Name, the Merciful, the Compassionate.
Having played the offbeat mortician Arthur on HBO’s Six Feet Under, I
was actually a little familiar with the strangeness of morticians and the
funeral business in general. I did not, however, foresee myself in a situation
like this.
I had arrived at the funeral home wracked with grief and wet with sweat,
as there was an epic heat wave at that time in that area of central
Washington State. The mortician, Michael, was a very nice and
accommodating man with a trim mustache who looked like someone who
collected things in his basement—things like wind-up toys and vintage ’70s
porn. However, when I entered the hushed, air-conditioned sanctuary of the
funeral home, he made it clear that he didn’t have an appropriate vessel to
put the water in for us to then wash and purify my father’s body.
“I could see if we’ve got a take-out bowl from like a Chinese restaurant
in the back or something,” he offered, kindly. And I agreed to let him look.
He shuffled down a dark hallway and started banging around in some
cupboards in what was obviously some mysterious, hidden mortician’s back
kitchen.
I had no idea morticians even had or needed kitchens. But I suppose it
made sense. I mean, preparing bodies has got to be some tough work, and a
mortician’s gotta eat! What a strange and specific location when you stop to
think about it. A good candidate for one of those comedy improv shows
where they shout out, “OK, we’re gonna need a location for this next
exercise!” Next time we all go to an improv show at some college campus,
church basement, or rinky-dink theater, let’s all respond, “Kitchen in the
back of a mortuary!”
Anyway, back to the story.
The funeral was in about an hour and a half at a remote cemetery. The
clock was ticking. My new friend Michael the mortician was digging and
clattering around in that mortician’s kitchen. I heard a female employee
enter and say, “What are you looking for?”
“A bowl. I don’t know. A cereal bowl or a Tupperware one maybe?”
“Let me help you look,” Mortician No. 2 said. More clanging and
clattering.
Then it hits me. Wait. I’m going to use an old take-out bowl or
Tupperware tub to hold the water to wash my father’s now-deceased sacred
human vessel as we wrap it in a shroud of sacred white linen and say sacred
prayers over him for his sacred eternal soul?!
“Never mind!” I shouted down the hallway. “I’ll go get a bowl.”
“Hey, how about a teapot?” I heard him call back. “Would that work?”
“That’s OK, Michael! Be right back.”
“OK, but hurry! We have to get going to the cemetery real soon!” he
yelled after me.
I ran huffing across the parking lot and jumped into the truck. After
tearing around the sweltering metropolis of Wenatchee, I found a Target
store, screeched to a stop, and bolted inside.
Panting, sometimes sobbing (and masked because of COVID), I asked a
lady where they might have some nice glass bowls.
“Aisle 37B!” she chirped at me and gestured toward the far side of an
endless fluorescent maze. I started to jog, ever deeper into the bowels of
this museum of “stuff.”
This is truly absurd, I thought to myself: a minor television celebrity is
jogging through a Target the size of an airport in a black suit, sweaty hair
pressed to his head, trying to track down a bowl nice enough to use to wash
his father’s dead body, which is laying on a table in a basement a few miles
away. Thank God no one shopping at this Target knows who I am or what’s
going on. I thought of my dad’s spirit, looking down on me and chortling
heartily. I smiled. This would have been exactly his sense of humor. He
would have loved telling this story. In fact, he’s probably telling it to some
weird angels as you’re reading this:
“Get this! My son, the big TV hotshot, was racing through the
Wenatchee Target in a sweaty suit and snotty mask in order to get the
perfect dead-body-washing bowl from aisle 37B!”
My father was an amazing man. A painter. A writer. A sewer
construction manager. A deeply thoughtful contemplator of spiritual
thoughts and ideas. An artist.
He died of heart disease a few days before the preceding events. Didn’t
make it through a major quadruple bypass surgery due to all the blockage in
his arteries.
My stepmom, Carla, and I were there when he was eventually
unplugged from the machines. We gave the OK. What struck me about the
moment was how it was exactly like one of those scenes in a sappy hospital
show: the beeping machines; the hushed doctors and nurses; the squeaking
of shoes on the linoleum floors; the tangle of wires and tubes descending
toward a still, grayish body; the flick of a switch; the emotional goodbye.
The doctors were losing him. It was time. They gave a rough estimate of
one to two hours before his blood pressure lowered to such an extent that
his heart would eventually stop beating.
We stood over him. Weeping. Praying. Aching.
And as the breathing tube was removed from his trachea, and his lungs
stopped lifting in his chest, a small truth about life and death became
incredibly clear to me. It was a lightning strike. Of course!
This body, this vessel, was not my father. The reality of Robert George
Wilson—abstract painter, sewer truck dispatcher, science-fiction writer,
Seahawks fan, student of spirituality, he of the twinkling eyes and chuckling
laughter—was not contained in or defined by this, for lack of a better word,
corpse. Yes, his sweet face was there. His occasional stray eyebrow hair,
jutting up like some weed from a sidewalk crack. His mustache was there.
Recognizable scars and moles on his arms and hands. But that wasn’t him.
That still, vacant body on that hospital bed in the ICU was simply a suit he
once wore.
To the materialist or physicalist, our “life” (i.e., the consciousness that is
bouncing around like a neuro-electric pachinko ball in our brains) is
physical in reality and electrochemical in manifestation. So when the heart
stops, the brain stops, and the electrical impulses stop, that, my friends, is
the end of the story. The candle has been snuffed. Personality, life, thought-
sensation, and all awareness are done with. Lights out. Fade to black.
I, however, felt there was something more than these scientific theories.
Armed with nothing other than thousands of years of mystical writings, a
deep gut feeling, a belief in the majesty of the universe, and wild respect for
the mystery and complexity of human consciousness, I knew in that
moment that there was something deeper afoot. That a life—mine, yours,
my father’s—could not simply come to an end because brain-centered
activity ceased.
Consciousness, you see, is one of the last frontiers of science. It’s kind
of like the big bang: ultimately unknowable and yet filled with
complexities, revelations, and mysteries that radiate out from it.
In fact, scientifically, this fundamental human mystery is often called the
“hard problem of consciousness.” Scientists, try as they might, have a
limited understanding of what consciousness actually is, how it works, or
more importantly, why it’s there. They don’t even know some of the basic
building blocks, like why our memory seems infinite or why it resides in
multiple parts of the brain. Why we dream. Why we need emotions.
Yes, researchers can track electromagnetic and chemical pathways and
different flare-ups of brain activity when one is, say, playing ping-pong
versus reading Proust, but they are still trying to figure out how any of it
puzzles together with DNA to make you you. Your
thoughts/emotions/personality/will are in a constant state of buzzing,
bouncing, reflecting, pondering, wondering, and evolving. Yes, that seems
to be somewhat attached—and related—to the big, gray human brain
matter, but it is also true that human consciousness is one of the greatest
mysteries in the known universe.
To a scientific materialist, such as scientist and philosopher Daniel
Dennett, the only way to explain consciousness is to say that it is all an
illusory trick of the brain. For Dennett and many others, this is what
happens: A kaleidoscope of impressions incessantly pour into our sensory
portals. They are cataloged and sorted, and responses need to be
continuously meted out. In order to make sense of all this stimulus and
information (including potential dangers), the synapses of our brains fill in
the gaps and create the cinematic, emotional, and interactive narrative
sensation we call consciousness. All these thousands of stimuli are
effortlessly, seamlessly, and instantaneously woven into a single, integrated,
emotional, personality-filled, subjective experience. But it’s merely an
illusion (or delusion) of consciousness.
And, materialists continue, if this consciousness thing is more than some
electromagnetic pulses in our brain, then shouldn’t there be, from a purely
scientific point of view, an evolutionary reason why it developed?
Shouldn’t there be some kind of proof that consciousness helps us survive
and multiply?
Well, oddly enough, there isn’t. There is zero evidence of how
contemplation, emotion, self-awareness, reflection (not to mention poetry,
art, and prayer), and the internal cinematic experience of consciousness
help or have helped humanity propagate and thrive. Wouldn’t we do just as
well if we had monkey minds up there? A more limited cognitive
perception that might be only slightly more evolved than our closest
relatives, the chimpanzees?
Respectfully, and without any hard science to back me up, I and many
others disagree with this purely physical assessment of the most profound
of human experiences.
My consciousness, as well as yours, is a mysterious, ineffable, dancing
diorama of emotions, memories, perceptions, triggers, and thoughts. We
take in, blend, and yet transcend senses, creating a peculiar alchemy of the
awareness and sensation of being a human, of having a moment-by-moment
experience of living. In the philosophy and science of mind, these little
bites of memorable conscious experiences are called “qualia.” In one
second my consciousness is making a decision on what kind of tennis balls
to buy, the next it’s remembering my first date with my wife, then it’s
worrying about something I have no control over like how late my mother-
in-law’s plane is going to be. Then, all of a sudden, my uber-mind is still,
quiet, and has an all-encompassing spiritual insight. Suddenly, it focuses on
a bird singing from a cactus. How does it sit on those thorny branches, I
wonder? It adds, subtracts, contemplates, and laughs, ponders, and reacts. It
is constantly illumined with the ongoing flickering of feelings swirling
around the human heart and peppered by beautiful flashes of memory, of
qualia.
Another aspect of consciousness that science doesn’t well explain is that
it evolves. What is the mind awareness that a fetus has in the womb? An
infant at birth? A toddler? And how does it differ from the thought
awareness and self-reflection of a kindergartener? A fifth grader? Our
minds seem not to be fully “online” until somewhere around our late
teenage or young adult years. Does consciousness itself continue to grow
throughout our adult lives? Or rather does it fade as we age? Does this
matterless, energyless, boundless, mysterious “experience” of beingness
continue after our bodies stop working? Would there ever be a way to prove
that?
All of this human experience would be so much easier to explain if we
could definitively conclude that our minds worked simply as cold,
predictable, robotic, computer-like tools of perception used only for
immediate problem solving and survival. But unlike what the B. F. Skinner
behaviorists might lead us to believe, we don’t have fleshy Spock-like
calculators in our head bone, tabulating our next move for no reason other
than to procreate, socialize, and feed ourselves.
To quote neuroscientist and philosopher David Chalmers, the king of
consciousness studies, “Why is the performance of these functions
accompanied by experience?”
Although we have insistent, animal-like impulses and reactions that
originate deep in our brainstem and pull us toward certain behaviors, our
emotions and thought processes are not simply a slightly more advanced
version of the cognitive experience of a bear, dog, or ape. These
scientific/physicalist explanations of how we perceive and process fail to
accurately explain the totality of our living, breathing experience.
Scientists might be able to prove they can locate the feeling of love in
the brain. A synapse. A chemical. That little junction in the gray matter that
lights up under an MRI or CAT scan. But that particular electrochemical
transaction would simply not be the same as the experience of love.
Science studies the notes of consciousness, but what we actually live is
the music! We write operas. We hold our babies and weep at the beauty of it
all. We smell a leaf and are transported to a time when we were smelling
that exact same type of leaf on a dreamy summer’s day when we were
seven years old. We adore. Deeply. We are profoundly sad. We commune.
We draw/write/create from places of inspiration deep in our essence. We
struggle. We ponder our death. We compose books and poetry about all the
amazing qualia we’ve experienced.
The red wheelbarrow of consciousness, glazed with rainwater, beside the
white chickens of experience.
It simply doesn’t compute that it all adds up to nothing.
In fact, when someone asks about “the meaning of life,” aren’t they
really asking about “the meaning of consciousness”? What does this
complicated, personality-filled life experience mean? Why do we have it?
Why were we shambling, goofy mammals gifted with it? Why does it do
what it does, the way it does? Toward what end shall I use its tools, powers,
and perceptions? Does this consciousness really end when my heart stops?
Can it be expanded? If there is a God, what would God’s consciousness be
like? Is God simply the consciousness of all living things?
The questions continue to pile up!
If you believe, as many do, that consciousness resides solely in the
brain, consider the story of Noah Wall, who was born with only 2 percent of
his brain and whose survival was deemed by doctors to be “impossible.”
You would think that would limit his consciousness to that of a potato, but
little Noah’s brain actually grew (which medical science had previously
deemed impossible), and his mind, personality, and interactivity are in a
seemingly normal range! He speaks almost at age level, and all this without
having a cerebral cortex, which is, according to biological science,
considered the seat of consciousness itself!
Many studies are finding that a great deal of our decisions and feelings
are actually based in our intestines, our guts, and the bazillions of bacteria
and the two hundred million neurons that line our digestive tract. In fact,
many scientists are now referring to our guts as our second brains! Talk
about the advice to “go with your gut” or the question “What does your gut
tell you?” taking on new meaning!
In the book The Expanded Mind by Annie Murphy Paul, her thesis is
that the brain merely acts as the conductor, and a majority of our thinking is
done by the entirety of our body, internal organs, gestures, and sensory
perceptions.
Now why the hell am I talking about all this? Why did I start out talking
about my dad’s death only to dive into the mystery of consciousness?
Because I believe that to see the world through spiritual glasses, we have
to start at the very end. If my previous observation/supposition is true, and
we are not just our bodies, and, in fact, our consciousness transcends our
physical limitations, then what does that mean for how we live our lives
until the body’s final breath?
Death is not extinguishing the light; it is putting out the lamp because
dawn has come.
—Rabindranath Tagore
Die happily and look forward to taking up a new and better form.
Like the sun, only when you set in the West can you rise in the East.
—Rumi
I’m not afraid of death because I don’t believe in it. It’s just getting
out of one car and into another.
—John Lennon
I wonder what car John Lennon is in now. I’m guessing an Aston Martin
DB3.
The great British documentarian and philosopher Adam Curtis talks about
how in Victorian times people spoke about death constantly but never about
sex. In contemporary society, the reverse is true: we never talk about death
but are obsessed with sex. I think that’s why the COVID-19 pandemic was
especially terrifying to us. As body bags were stacked and hospitals were
brimming, it forced us to seriously examine the topic that, culturally, we
least like to face.
Yet death is a perfect lens through which to view life itself. It’s the
ultimate framing device. It puts everything into perspective. In fact,
historically, death has always been used to reframe how we see life in
practically every culture around the world.
Think of the famous Sioux saying, proclaimed by Crazy Horse as he led
men into battle: “Today is a good day to die.” A phrase apparently not only
used in battle by many tribes but also in everyday life as a reminder of the
preciousness of “living for today.”
In early Buddhist writings, the term maranasati translates as “remember
death.” It’s a mindfulness meditation through which the urgency of living in
the present moment is cast into focus by contemplating one’s mortality.
There’s even a meditation where one tracks and ponders the nine stages of a
corpse decomposing, from “festering and blue” all the way to bones turning
into dust.
In Mexico, there is Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead), a wild
celebration to help us drink in our mortality, rife with profound and
humorous rituals and shrines. And lots and lots of skeletons.
The essayist Michel de Montaigne spoke of an ancient Egyptian custom
where, during times of festivities, a skeleton would be brought out, and it
would be said, “Drink and be merry for when you’re dead you will look like
this.”
Sufi (Muslim) mystics were sometimes referred to as “people of the
graves” because they would spend so much time in graveyards pondering
their mortality.
In the country of Bhutan, happiness is a central focus of life and culture.
The government doesn’t solely measure economic improvement but also its
citizens’ well-being, with its tracking of GNH or Gross National Happiness.
And yet, in the same culture, one is expected to think about death at least
three times a day. Incredible for any nation, but especially for one that is so
linked to fostering its happiness.
In Tibetan Buddhism, there is a long, rich “death meditation” history.
The renowned eleventh-century teacher Atisa had nine meditations on this
theme:
1. Death is inevitable.
2. Our personal life span is decreasing continuously day by day.
3. Death will come, whether or not we are prepared for it.
4. Human life expectancy is uncertain.
5. There are many causes of death.
6. The human body is fragile and vulnerable.
7. At the time of death, our material resources are not of use to us.
8. Our loved ones cannot keep us from death.
9. Our own body cannot help us at the time of our death.
Think of the ancient Roman Stoic ritual of memento mori, the daily
practice of remembering our mortality. When there was a parade through
ancient Rome, the general, senator, or caesar at the center of the procession
would have someone following him, holding the laurel crown over his head
and whispering “memento mori” in his ear as the crowds shouted their
praise. Translation: “Remember, you are going to die.”
But what, exactly, does death put into perspective?
Why, the preciousness of life, you big silly willy!
At my aforementioned SoulPancake media company, we took a big
gamble in the early days of launching our programming and produced a
show tangentially about death called My Last Days. We tried pitching it as a
TV show and were flat-out rejected. No one did shows about death, we
were told. In fact, in many cases, we would pitch the show to a room filled
with TV executives who would be sobbing by the end of our presentation,
moved and humbled. And then they would mumble something through their
tears to the effect of “Sorry, we just can’t do a show about death. But thank
you! It’s so beautiful!!!”
So we made it as a short-form docuseries for our YouTube channel
(created and directed by the great Justin Baldoni)—a show about what we
could learn about life from those who are facing death. This was a huge
risk. It was a taboo topic in the media. But we made it—a couple dozen
portraits of courageous, radiant, beautiful souls who were in their “last
days.”
Was it sad? A little. Was it inspiring? A lot!
Hundreds of millions watched. And we did eventually turn it into a TV
show on the CW Network, because sometimes media executives don’t
know a damn thing.
But back to my point: The show encapsulates so much of what I’m
delving into in these paragraphs. The many dozen subjects of this ongoing
series would always come back to the exact same handful of essential
human truths. The rush of gratitude they felt for every miraculous moment
of life they had left. The flood of love they felt for those who were precious
to them. The sanctity and fleeting nature of time itself. Connecting with
nature. The need to slow down and breathe into every single invaluable
moment. Sharing their hearts. Increased compassion. And, finally, regret for
the time spent not being grateful, loving, and “in the moment.”
Not a single subject of the My Last Days series said, “Damn, I wish I
had worked more!” Or spent more time online. Or mindlessly scrolling on
their phones. Or gossiping. Or comparing themselves to others. Or in a fog
of self-interest, pursuing superficial carnal pleasures and material comforts.
I had a friend named David who was dying of cancer as I was working
on this book. He was swimming one day at the age of fifty and felt a pain in
his side. Thought nothing of it. It kept coming back. Went to the doctor a
week or two later and, out of the blue, was diagnosed with stage 4 stomach
cancer, the second-deadliest and the first most painful of cancers. Doctors
predicted that he would survive about eighteen months. He lasted about
twenty-four. David had a ten-year-old daughter and was completely
devastated. Overcome with sadness and fear and yet, at the same time,
living his life with a focus, clarity, and joy that I’d never seen from him
before. We used to take weekly walks on the beach, and the thing he kept
saying to me is, “It’s all just static! The noise, the emails, the calls, the bills,
the demands, the texts, the to-do lists. You’ve got to cut through the static.
None of it matters—see your life with as much clarity as you can. Life is
sooo short!”
It should be noted that we’re all dying of something. In one way or
another. For many of us, it’ll take a grand total of like eighty-seven years
before whatever it is finally gets us. For David, it was two. For me? Who
knows. Twenty? Thirty? Forty if I’m lucky? Shakespeare himself says, vis-
à-vis the character of old Capulet in Romeo and Juliet, “Well, we were born
to die.”
What is this static David is referring to? Are you in it now? Maybe all
this talk about death and perspective has quieted it for a short spell.
There is an analogy I heard once about twins in the womb having a
conversation. (Which is ridiculous, I know. I mean, fetuses can’t talk! They
don’t even have working lungs!) One says to the other, “I can’t wait to get
out of here! What adventures await! I bet it’s amazing on the other side of
that trap door.” The other says, “Are you out of your uterine mind!? On the
other side of that vaginal hatch is nothing but death and blood and screams
and chaos! Enjoy your life in here! Nothing to do but kick back and enjoy
this amniotic fluid and poke your elbows around every once in a while.
We’ll just keep growing our organs and chillin’ in the sac, bro! Oblivion
awaits out there! Fight it! Don’t gooo! Stay inside at all cost!”
Isn’t that kind of what we do in this life when thinking about the next?
Speaking of babies, there is a terrific spiritual metaphor from the Baha’i
teachings that relates babies in wombs to the afterlife.
As we know, the fetus, cells splitting like crazy, is growing all kinds of
organs, limbs, and various accoutrements that will come in quite handy in a
few short months. Now, if you were able, as in the previous “womb-
versation,” to converse with said baby in utero and ask it what it was doing
with these newly grown eyelids and elbows and ears and knees, the baby
would have zero idea. It is quite content just floating and growing, feeling
cared for and connected to the all-encompassing motherly presence that
quite literally surrounds it. It has no idea what its nascent eyes are for and
how important they are and will someday be. It is utterly clueless that its
sensory organs, for the most part, will drive its ability to make sense of the
physical world. And not only that—they will be portals through which
ceaseless wonders will pour into the consciousness of this ever-expanding
little being. Paintings by Cézanne, sunsets over deserts, nightingales
singing, loved ones whispering that they love them. The smell of Cinnabon
in an airport at dawn. Symphonies of light, sound, color, music, art, and
inspiration. And from what? A few mushy, weird-looking organs growing
on the front and sides of their little heads.3
Now let’s, for a minute, examine ourselves in our physical, post-utero
universe through a similar lens. Imagine, if you will, that we are undergoing
a related process while walking, talking, learning, laughing, struggling,
while in our bodies on womb-planet Earth. What metaphorical “organs”
could we possibly be growing here and for what use?
Well, to carry the metaphor forward, on this physical plane, we are
growing what we need for whatever realm lies beyond this physical one.
(I’m not talking about heaven or hell—more on that silliness in later
chapters.) We are continuing the saga of our soul’s journey. One transition
was from the womb to birth to life (in this material dimension) and then we
journey forward to the next transition, which is life to death. (Which is in
itself a kind of birth.) In this upcoming metamorphosis, we move onward to
the infinite worlds beyond time and space, where we suddenly realize why
we needed our souls in the first place! So this world, basically, has to be
viewed as a soul-enriching factory! A physical laboratory for developing
and nurturing our spiritual essence.
And what will we take with us when we leave? What do we need in the
afterlife? The soul dimension? The kingdom of light? Heaven. Bliss.
Nirvana. Eternity. The Happy Hunting Grounds. Whatever you want to call
it. What will we use there? Certainly not the “stuff” we’ve accrued over our
lives. Probably not even our “personality,” at least not how we understand
it, as so much of who we are is circumstantial. What would the miracle of
consciousness need from an earthly experience?
If, and this is a big supposition, the next world is some sort of heavenly,
eternity-and-light-filled state beyond our comprehension, then we will need
eternity-and-light-filled things to function effectively there. What are those
things? Well, to carry the metaphor forward, the spiritual eyes and ears and
knees and elbows that we are growing on Earth are actually the attributes of
divine light and power. Love, certainly. But also qualities of the Creator.4
Many call these divine attributes “spiritual virtues.” For some more
secular types, they might be referred to as “positive qualities” or “character
traits.” Virtues are the God-like attributes within us. The same qualities of
the saints and the angels, the enlightened and the wise.
Here are a few:
You don’t have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.
Because what is the real game of life, dear human brothers and sisters?
What is the point of all this sweaty, gooey reality—the obstacles we strive
to overcome, the dysfunctional families, the trials we undergo, the horrible
jobs we sometimes have to work, the times of tremendous stress and
sadness, the annoying people we bump up against, all the tests and
difficulties that lay strewn along our life’s path?
I believe it’s to generate these spiritual eyes and ears and elbows that we
will need on the other side of this physical dimension, beyond the veil.
And the hardships we suffer in this world are what, unfortunately, make
us wiser, humbler, softer, kinder, more loving.
Sometimes you meet someone in their later years who has such a
kindness, light, and perception in their soulful eyes that it is quite moving. I
often make a mental note and think to myself, “Rainn, strive to be like that!
What a cool senior citizen!” And sometimes you meet an octogenarian who
is flinty and mean, emotionally cut off, shut down, and cold. Oftentimes,
I’m sorry to say, surrounded by great material luxury, like Mr. Burns from
The Simpsons.
I do the same thing in those instances. Say to myself, “Rainn, don’t end
up like that! Don’t be a flinty old jerk senior citizen!”
Now, of course we don’t know the road that anyone has walked (and
being judgmental is one of my worst character traits), but I use these
examples to make a point: What kind of old human do you want to be? That
is, if my perspective is right and your consciousness and its corollary—your
soul—exists beyond your physical body, who is the person you are taking
with you when the old age segment of your life is finally over?
What did my father, Robert George Wilson (who definitely fell into the
first category of older folks), take with him?
He certainly left behind his 78.5-year-old body on that table near the
mortician’s kitchen. He left behind a few hundred fantastic abstract
paintings, a collection of rare books, his truck, and various drafts of novels
and essays. A closet full of old-man clothes. A toothbrush. He also left
behind hundreds who loved him and were deeply touched by his spirit, life,
service, and art.
And what did he take with him? He took his wisdom. That spark of
mischievous fun. His positive, inquisitive nature. His gentleness. His vast,
colorful imagination. The patience he showed to the octogenarians to whom
he volunteered his time and read to regularly. The love he showed to the
teens he taught art and painting classes to. The profound, humble devotion
he had to his faith.
So there we were. Back at the funeral home in that back room just off the
mortician’s kitchen. Water filled the lovely glass bowls I had just purchased
at Target. My father’s body was laid on an open white linen shroud on the
table. My stepmother, Carla, and I were standing over him, and we read
some prayers from the Baha’i writings:
Thou hast joined that precious river to the mighty sea, Thou hast
returned that spreading ray of light to the Sun of Truth… and led
him, who longed to look upon Thee to Thy presence in Thy bright
place of lights.
We washed his precious body. One dab of water at a time. The human
vessel that had held my father’s essence for nearly seventy-nine years
before it broke down. We wept. We grieved. We held each other.
We placed the ring on his finger and slowly, carefully wrapped his now
clean body. And later that day, that same body, laying in a plain box, was
placed into the ground.
Rest in peace, Dad.
Footnotes
3 I don’t mean to be ableist here. Those born blind or deaf can use other senses to more than make up
for their sensory experiences, and when asked, more often than not, would choose not to have
missing senses given to them after the fact. I merely use the example of these organs growing in
utero to create a larger metaphor.
4 By the way, I’m doing a whole chapter on the Creator just a few dozen pages from here. It’s called
“The Notorious G.O.D.” Don’t let all this God talk throw you. I know it can be off-putting. We’ll get
it all sorted out. Relax and have a Cinnabon.
CHAPTER FOUR
ME AND GOD
God help me.
My longing-filled search for meaning, for the divine, for the Big Guy
Upstairs has always been a constant, active part of my life. It’s a
relationship that I’ve been in a continuous state of struggle with. Not
exactly sure why. Some people, even from religious families, don’t ever
give the Celestial Being a second thought.
In the preface, I wrote about growing up as a young suburban Seattle
Baha’i nerd with a strong sense of and belief in God. The Creator, from the
Baha’i perspective that I was brought up with, was not your typical Old
Testament Sky-Daddy™. Instead, God is described as “the Unknowable
Essence” by Baha’u’llah, the prophet/founder of the Baha’i Faith. From my
faith’s perspective, the reason that holy teachers like Jesus and Mohammed
and the Buddha bring their divine messages to humanity is that God is so
far beyond human comprehension and interaction (being outside space and
time, etc.) that these “messengers,” “prophets,” or “manifestations” of God
are much-needed intermediaries to help guide humanity to its ultimate
spiritual maturation.
God is also described as being “closer to man than his life-vein,” a line
from the Quran. What a delicious, mystical quandary: unknowable and yet
so, so close. The God of my suburban Baha’i youth was loving and
reasonable, as relayed to dorky young me, and had absolutely no fire-and-
brimstone qualities—that is, He was not keen on damning or burning
anyone in a sulfuric lake-o-fire for eternity or anything like that.
So that was nice.
Nonetheless, as I became a teen and started to do things that were not in
alignment with Baha’i moral teachings, God started to strangely morph in
my mind and heart into that culturally pervasive, all-seeing, judgmental
Sky-Daddy™, frowning down on me having fumbling pseudo-sexual
activities with my seventeen-year-old girlfriend in the backseats of cars.7 At
that point in my life, I suppose God became more like the God from The
Ten Commandments starring Charlton Heston, bellowing in a sonorous
basso voice from beyond the clouds, “Moses!” Or in this case, “Rainn! Stop
trying to take your girlfriend’s bra off in the back of that Volvo!” I suppose
it was the impossible-to-ignore torrent of societal imagery about the role of
God in a Judeo-Christian world at work in my adolescent head: Santa
Claus–God scornfully watching us struggle with our naughtiness and
niceness from His angelic heavenly abode.
Let’s face it. The God of the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament) is more than
a little, shall we say, “all over the place.” This anthropomorphized entity
occasionally flies into rages; can be vindictive, envious, and violent; and is
filled with irreconcilable contradictions. How could this view of an angry,
judgmental Creator, who has been worshiped, sermonized, studied, and
portrayed in countless works of art, not seep into our collective Western
psychology, and subconscious?
But back to our story. Fast-forward to me in my twenties, having moved
to New York to study acting, where I promptly jettisoned anything having
to do with God, morality, religion, and spirituality. During my time in New
York City, while I attended acting school and the years thereafter, I rejected
anything and everything related to spirituality. For a couple of years, I even
tried on atheism like some jaunty, rebellious cap!
I transitioned to skeptically seeing God as someone or something
grandmothers might need to believe in so that they feel better about their
lives. Religion was for old conservative types who weren’t capable of
creating a rich, vital life of their own and needed some outside supernatural
belief system to provide structure and meaning in a chaotic world.
At the same time, I started to see hypocrisy all around me, in most
religionists, and even in the Baha’i community. Like a suburban Seattle
version of Holden Caulfield, I reacted, however immaturely, by thinking,
What a bunch of phonies. And I turned away from anything having to do
with religion, God, and the faith of my youth. As so many young folks in
America’s big cities do.
This new universe-view in place, I promptly threw myself into my
acting studies. I spent years studying the craft of theater for fourteen hours a
day: memorizing Shakespearean sonnets, doing scenes in acting class and
tongue stretches and long vowel sounds in voice and speech seminars, and
wearing red noses in clowning workshops. (A class, by the way, that would
greatly benefit me as Dwight Schrute in later life!)
But (and this is most important), under the tutelage of Zelda Fichandler,
one of the grand dames of American theater and founder of Arena Stage in
Washington, DC, and head of NYU’s graduate acting program, I started to
see the pursuit of being an artist as noble and transcendent. Being an actor
and a storyteller was a potentially life-and-world-changing vocation. We
were not just being trained as actors; we were being inspired and cajoled,
expanding our view of theater training as more of a mission than anything
else. Why was it a mission? Well, because throughout world history, there
have always been shamans—those who have a deep connection to the spirit
world. And that was, in essence, the role that a great actor played.
This was a revelatory idea for me. Usually, an actor is simply hired to
bring dialogue to life. The director is the puppet master, and the lines
themselves are sacrosanct and usually can’t be altered. It’s the equivalent of
being in an orchestra. You play the notes as written on the page, and the
conductor makes all the real creative decisions about the piece.
But a shaman!? Truth be told, we don’t actually know what the duty of a
shaman was ten thousand years ago. There weren’t Ring cameras up on the
walls of caves, documenting what went on when a tribe gathered around the
nightly fire. But we do know that the shamans were a combo platter of a lot
of different roles. They played the part of truth teller, certainly. Also, mage.
Priest. Storyteller. Mystic. Diviner. Perhaps a little sprinkling of social
commentator, stand-up comedian, and clown. They were part griot or
medicine man, passing down the legends from the past and truths from the
ancestors who guide us into the future. Certainly, dancing and singing were
incorporated into their ceremonies and presentations. Could there have been
a touch of “gadfly to the Athenian nation” in the role they played? Perhaps,
like Lear’s Fool, they entertained, cajoled, and at the same time had one eye
fixed on the mysterious realms beyond.
Thinking of an actor as playing this societal role was transformative. I
could be a truth teller, holy man, and fabulist all in one.
This idea would be the central guide in our theater training over the
coming years, and it has influenced my thinking ever since.
Now, you might be rolling your eyes at this juncture, and I wouldn’t
blame you. As in: Wait, how was Dwight a shamanic role? He was just an
annoying idiot sitcom sidekick. Don’t actors mostly just look pretty and say
their lines in a vapid way? Sell beer and cars and tennis shoes on the side?
Seek Instagram followers and complain about their agents? Stoke their egos
and hold court on things they know nothing about?
Yes, true. All of that.
But—and hear me out—think about when you see a performance that
transcends the ages and becomes a voice of the time. A performance that
lifts the story from the banal and traditional to the sublime. A performance
that you remember your entire life. That’s when we get a glimpse of the
actor-as-shaman.
Think of Brando at his best. De Niro in Raging Bull, King of Comedy, or
Taxi Driver. Daniel Kaluuya in Judas and the Black Messiah, Frances
McDormand in… well, anything. But also think of the times when you’ve
seen breathtaking performances in the theater. Brave. Bold. Unpredictable.
Riotously funny. Fierce. And I’ve seen far too many great ones to share
here.
Sorry to wax pretentious, but in these instances, an actor is far greater,
far more revelatory than a hired musician simply playing the appointed
notes within the boundaries of a symphonic orchestration. The actor reveals
the human condition searingly, with truth and fearlessness, humor and
vulnerability.
So here we were. A bunch of little shaman wannabes in acting school,
treading the boards in the world of professional theater.
As I continued on my acting journey, casting away my Baha’i past and
finding a new, exciting shamanistic religion in the theater, I hit a few
roadblocks.
Long story short, in the ’90s, many of my friends and I were fighting
devastating internal battles that really had no name, no way of categorizing
them. Today, we recognize and label these as “mental health issues.” But no
one was talking about mental health in 1992. At least no one I knew. Mental
health is what Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and
Leonardo DiCaprio in What’s Eating Gilbert Grape were dealing with.
(Two other shaman-like performances, by the way.)
But mental health was what I was in a battle with in my early twenties. I
first went into therapy in 1990 because I was so depressed I couldn’t get out
of bed. I was frequently beset with anxiety attacks that left me on the
ground in a puddle of sweat with a rapid heartbeat, and I was using various
levels of drugs, alcohol, porn, food, and whatever else to attempt to escape
and numb my feelings. I was lost. And when you can’t name something, it
becomes even more daunting and overwhelming.
This is not the book for me to relay all the ups and downs of my mental
health story and its many battles. (I reveal a bit more of it in my 2015
comedic memoir, The Bassoon King.) The reason I bring this chapter of my
life to light in this context, however, is because it was these mental health
tests that brought me to seek out a relationship with the Creator in a newly
minted way. Or rather, these challenges and their resulting emotional
earthquakes forced me to look for a Higher Power. For a greater sense of
meaning and purpose in my life. For balance and perspective. For
something bigger than my mixed-up self. For hope.
I echo what the great teacher and writer Julia Cameron once said:
“Necessity, not virtue, was the beginning of my spirituality.” I was no saint
being visited by some Holy Spirit. Nor was I some bodhisattva finding
enlightenment through intensive contemplation and revelatory insight.
I needed to seek spirituality because I was really frigging unhappy.
I would have a lot of conversations with myself. Look at me, my
incessant thought spirals would spin. I’m a working actor. Broke, but
working. Great girlfriend (now wife). Awesome apartment in Brooklyn.
Kick-ass van. But I’m so unhappy? Why do I wake up at 3:00 a.m. and
stare at the ceiling? Why do I despise myself so much of the time? Why do
I cry myself to sleep on occasion? What gives?
Then I continued, Was I rash to have thrown out everything and
anything having to do with God? People with God in their life sometimes
seem happier, after all. Maybe I threw the baby out with the bathwater?
I started talking to friends about the concept of a Creator, but no one
really ever wanted to get into it. When I would ask my friends and
workmates if they believed in a Higher Power, after some awkward
hemming and hawing and some uncomfortable, stumbling silences, they
would respond with some version of, “Kind of. I guess. Sort of. Maybe.”
They would say that they certainly didn’t believe in the previously
referenced Grampa God with a flowing beard on a cloud with a telescope
and an agenda. But they also didn’t think that creation was nothing but
meaningless molecules bouncing around, either.
They remained, shall we say, noncommittal about the whole thing. They
all “kind of” believed in God, but their answers were the vaguest
milquetoastiest answers possible.
This didn’t work for me.
The existence of God was kind of like being pregnant. It is or it isn’t.
You can’t be “kind of” pregnant. I mean, there either needed to be an all-
knowing, all-loving, all-seeing creative force behind and above and within
everything or consciousness was purely a random and meaningless accident
of an even more random and meaningless assemblage of molecules
bouncing around in a random and meaningless physical plane of existence.
There’s really not much in between those two options. As it says in the AA
Big Book, “God is either everything or else He is nothing. God either is, or
He isn’t.”
So I went on a journey of spiritual and religious rediscovery. I dug deep
into the holy books of the world’s great faiths. The Bible, certainly. The
Quran, yes. The Baha’i books that I had noticed on my parents’ bookshelf
but had never cracked open as a teen. But also, the Bhagavad Gita of
Hinduism and the Dhammapada and other teachings of the Buddha.
And, finally, some books that truly changed my life: The Gospel of the
Redman, The Sacred Pipe, Black Elk Speaks, God Is Red, and many other
mystical but accessible tomes about Native American spirituality. (Books,
by the way, that dove even deeper into the meaning of the role of the
shaman!)
It was there, at long last, that I read about a conception of God that was
going to change my life: Wakan Tanka, a title for God in the Lakota Sioux
tradition. A concept that led me on a road to ever greater understanding and
helped me steer (very gradually) out of the vortex of my mental health
struggles.
But before I dig more specifically into this life-altering spiritual
discovery, there’s a lot of ground I want to cover in this chapter’s quest to
reimagine, explore, and explode this concept of the Notorious G.O.D.
First, I want to begin with a shout-out to the atheists.
YO, ATHEISTS!
In case you were wondering, this section is not going to be like one of those
videos where a God-believer and an atheist sit on a stage in front of a
partisan audience (who already have their minds made up) and have an
argument about whether God exists or not. Those discussions are pointless.
Just read the comments sections underneath the videos. No one has ever
changed their mind about something as colossal as the Supreme Being
because of who scored more points in an argument on YouTube, no matter
how articulate the speakers might be.
I’m not here to change anybody’s mind. Just to provide some
(hopefully) interesting, fresh perspectives. I absolutely love, admire, and
respect atheists. Seriously. If I wasn’t a dyed-in-the-wool theist, I would
definitely go back to being an atheist.
Why? Because atheists, by and large, love science and its method of
understanding the universe. And I can totally relate because I love science
too. I certainly don’t consider science to be in any kind of opposition to
faith and spirituality. That’s the epitome of a false dichotomy. Both are
effective, albeit different, modalities for understanding the same ultimate
reality.
Science is an incredible methodology and set of tools for studying the
material world. Through its systematic focus, it has unlocked, especially
over the past two centuries, what one could consider miracles. The quality
of our lives has been made infinitely better thanks to it. (He says, drafting
this book on his laptop, on which he can watch videos of cats playing the
piano, calculate advanced math equations, research anything that has ever
existed ever, record music tracks, schedule his calendar down to the minute,
listen to podcasts about beekeepers, and talk face-to-face in crystalline
clarity with someone in Mongolia.)
Science. I mean, who doesn’t love the systematic study of the structure
and behavior of the physical and natural world through observation and
experimentation!
Unfortunately, throughout the ages science has frequently been
positioned as being in opposition to faith. If one looks at a thumbnail
history of God, He (God) was an ever-present figure with us Homo sapiens,
appearing in various incarnations, both pantheistic and monotheistic, since
the dawn of humanity. Every Homo sapiens culture has some kind of
relationship with a divine power that exists beyond space and time—a
relationship that many believe helped early civilizations answer questions
about the world that couldn’t be answered in any other way. This,
historically, is called the “god of the gaps.” Anything science can’t explain
is God or is of God.
We early humans don’t know where that scary-sounding thunder comes
from? Well, let’s put a divine face or label on it and, by creating a god of
thunder, like Thor (Norse) or Ba’al (Phoenician) or Set (Egyptian), BOOM!
Problem solved. (See what I did there?) The answer to the mysterious noise
must be that there’s a powerful being in the sky that occasionally gets angry
and makes a thunder crash with his hammer or sword or what have you.
Then, eventually, through the tools of science we humans discover that
thunder comes from the rapid expansion of the air surrounding the path of
electricity discharged through a lightning bolt, and all of a sudden, there’s
no longer any need for Thor or Ba’al or Set. The powerful “god” is then
relegated to colorful ancient mythology, and science holds the new
explanation for said phenomenon.
Some religious folk would continue to draw this “god of the gaps” idea
forward to the modern day and say (using the example of some event we
don’t have an explanation for as of yet), “Well, since we don’t have a clue
how life started on planet Earth, or how a bunch of chemicals and
molecules suddenly transformed into single-celled organisms and bacteria,
their de facto creation must be God’s finger zapping the oceans of our
planet billions of years ago!”
However, to the materialist / naturalist / person of science, everything
can ultimately be explained by a scientific theory. So it’s not that we don’t
know the answer to why chemicals and molecules evolved into live
organisms four billion years ago… we simply don’t know the answer yet.
Now of course this whole paradigm is ridiculous. It pits religion versus
science in an incredibly simplistic way. Everything proven belongs to
science and all things mysterious and undiscovered belong to God? Um, no.
God is either within and without and interwoven throughout all of nature
and natural phenomenon, or there is no supernatural presence whatsoever
and there is only matter, energy, and their physical laws bobbing and
throbbing about purposelessly in a vast, empty space.
Again, it’s impossible to stereotype an entire population based on what
they believe, but on the whole, I think it’s safe to say that atheists are
naturally skeptical. As a whole, they try not to inherit beliefs handed down
from their childhood, culture, media, or family. They pride themselves on
examining things with an eye on the individual investigation of truth and
demand to be shown proof, usually repeatable and provable. Those
admirable, sometimes pesky, atheists delight in knocking down sacred
shibboleths, challenging all assumptions about the supernatural. They
reason things out on their own, with their own eyes, their own brains. I
greatly admire these traits and attempt to hold myself to the same exacting,
skeptical standard. We all should.
In fact, I would say that if you blindly and incuriously believe in any
religious faith, especially the faith of your parents, you are kind of an idiot.
There, I said it.
Atheists have rejected so many of the obvious hypocrisies, corruptions,
and especially nonsensically literal interpretations of symbols and
metaphors in most of the world’s religions. At tremendous risk of pissing
off every single religious faith in the world, I would simply offer you some
examples of these superstitions:
• Elephant-shaped gods
• The reincarnation of “bad” human beings into cockroaches
• People being turned willy-nilly into pillars of salt
• Magical enlightenment under trees
• Burning bushes that talk to you
• Jesus’s body floating away after three days to be with his dad
• Mohammed riding a winged horse back and forth to Jerusalem in
a night
Besides all the mythological stories, atheists have sooo many very good
reasons to not believe in God!
For instance, from the dawn of time, religion has caused innumerable
wars and incalculable deaths. All in an “all-loving” God’s name! From the
crusades to the mass exterminations of “nonbelievers” during the first
centuries of colonialism to the Spanish Inquisition. From 9/11 to the Iran-
Iraq war to Hindu mob violence against Muslims in India to armed
Buddhist terrorists setting off bombs in Sri Lanka. No religious faith has
escaped this violence. Not to mention the endless list of holy genocides,
holy wars, and holy pogroms that have preceded recorded history.
And let’s not forget that God-people seem to be so weirdly antiscience at
times! I mean, why this recent bizarre connection in evangelical circles
between believing in Jesus and disbelieving in vaccines?!
God worshipers frequently seem to just believe in stuff that makes little
to no sense, and they never seem open to investigating the truth for
themselves. They then label this as having “faith.”
Also, God, as we have come to understand Him through the Abrahamic
mythology, is so toxically male! It’s patriarchy personified. Big,
disapproving, bearded, warlike, anthropomorphic, masculine daddy-man
who is going to spank you with plague or lightning or locusts or damnation
if you don’t do his bidding. A ton has already been written about how all
the glorious ancient feminine and matriarchal spiritual traditions were
stomped down and shoved aside to make way for this domineering
patriarchal conception. And how this oppressive religious patriarchy forced
more “traditional” roles on women, which in most cases, for countless
generations, kept our innately powerful women subservient, abused, and
undereducated.
Also? In so many faith traditions, God seems narcissistically obsessed
with people bowing down and worshiping Him and sending those who
don’t do so to burn in the fiery pit of hell for all eternity. (Which, by the by,
is a very, very long time!) What a jerk! I mean, who does that?!
Like I said, it makes total sense to reject some or all of this God
nonsense.
#1. Where exactly does human responsibility end and God’s hand
begin?
Imagine how much effort, research, and technology we’ve put into creating
missiles, guns, warships, bombs, mines, drones, nuclear subs, fighter jets,
and other countless horrific weapons of mass destruction. What if humanity
spent the same amount of time, money, and energy working on actually
healing and curing diseases (like cancer) that it puts into warfare? Perhaps
we wouldn’t even be dealing with cancer today, as well as so many other
diseases. And tell me again, how is this God’s fault and not our own doing?
We have all the basic scientific tools we need to find treatments and cures
for so many diseases that needlessly kill and cause untold pain to hundreds
of millions. Yet we, as a species, have always chosen war, profit, and
division over real humanitarian progress.8
And it’s not just disease and bad health care that are negative by-
products of our misguided societal priorities. Agriculture. Clean water.
Nutrition. Distribution systems and transportation. Mosquitos. Vaccines. We
cause climate change and then raise our fists and curse God when extreme
weather events destroy our forests and cities. There is a list of entirely
preventable ways in which innocent people suffer and die that we humans
—especially the wealthiest among us (see the “Unjust Economic Extremes”
pandemic in Chapter 2)—could easily be taking a far, far stronger stand in
proactively treating/fixing/solving/healing. And the fact that we aren’t
should horrify and outrage every single one of us until we want to scream.
But instead, we just putter along. Or lazily blame the Big Guy Upstairs.
So there’s that.
Like a mother who protects her child, her only child, with her own
life, one should cultivate a heart of unlimited love and compassion
towards all living beings.
—Gautama Buddha
In Islam, one gives thanks to God (Allah) for the tests and pain we are
given, and these things bring us closer to Him. Those who are able to see
God’s hand, will, and presence in affliction are the most spiritually evolved.
The Holy Quran says,
Surely We will try you with something of fear and hunger, and loss
of wealth and possessions, death, and the loss of fruits of your toil.
Yet, give glad tidings to those who are patient who, when they are
visited by an affliction, say, “Surely we belong to God, and to Him
we return.” (2:155–157)
The more difficulties one sees in the world the more perfect one
becomes. The more you plow and dig the ground the more fertile it
becomes. The more you cut the branches of a tree the higher and
stronger it grows. The more you put the gold in the fire the purer it
becomes.… Therefore, the more sorrows one sees the more perfect
one becomes.
—‘Abdu’l-Baha, Star of the West
People have pictured a god in the realm of the mind, and worship
that image which they have made for themselves.… Consider then,
how all the peoples of the world are bowing the knee to a fancy of
their own contriving, how they have created a creator within their
own minds, and they call it the Fashioner of all that is.
The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao. The name that can be
named is not the eternal Name. The unnameable is the eternally real.
… Free from desire, you realize the mystery.
—Tao Te Ching
In the Fourth Gospel, Jesus prays “that they may all be one, as thou, Father,
art one in me, and I in You, that they may be one in Us” (John 17:21).
Zeno (great name!), the founder of stoicism, said beautifully, “God is
not separate from the world; He is the soul of the world, and each of us
contains a part of the Divine Fire. All things are parts of one single system,
which is called Nature.”
“Soul of the world.” I just love that.
Western thought has been maniacally focused on God as the source of
creation, a founder, an instigator. There have been countless debates,
discussions, and philosophical treatises in this vein. My friend the great
Baha’i philosopher (and PhD in physics from Princeton) Steven Phelps
reminded me that the discussion has unfortunately been far less focused on
God as a goal, a destination, a way of life, a rich garden of qualities to
emulate, or an energy to both draw from and align with. Perhaps we ought
to spend less time thinking of this creative force as a what and more like a
how—how to live in this world with radiance, humility, a spirit of service,
and a sacred harmony. A God that emanates divine qualities in the same
way that pesky spiritual metaphor in the sky, the sun, emanates light, heat,
and healing.
Perhaps God could not even be considered as something distinct or
separate from what He has fashioned but rather as the sum of creation.
The fifteenth-century philosopher Nicholas of Cusa had an indelible and
unforgettable way of framing the conception of the Creator. He once said,
“Divinity is in all things in such a way that all things are in divinity.” He
spoke of a God “whose center, so to speak, is everywhere and whose
circumference is nowhere.”
Kind of like Wakan Tanka.
ME AND WAKAN TANKA
So here I am in the 1990s in New York City, in my turbulent adolescence,
rebelling against most everything. Including God.
(And isn’t that what humanity is doing, really? Individuating in the
midst of its collective turbulent adolescence? Eight billion of us pushing
back against the perceived “father,” God, the great big patriarch in the sky?
I certainly was.)
But I was also searching for something.
And it was during this fumbling stage that I stumbled on the concept of
Wakan Tanka, which translates as “the Great Mystery.” When this gawky,
confused mid-’90s soul-rebel came upon this Indigenous American idea of
divinity, my mind opened like a sunflower. After all, I loved mysteries. Not
of the Agatha Christie or true crime podcast variety but of the mystical sort.
I saw the making of art itself as a great mystery and was excited to dig into
an even bigger one. My eyes were opened to new possibilities as I read
about this Great Spirit of the Lakota Sioux.
I spoke a while back with the late Kevin Locke, a Lakota artist and
elder, and consulted with him about what I had studied all those years ago.
From my feeble understanding, this concept of Wakan Tanka is the
creative force that binds and generates life. That exists beyond time and
space. It is in no way anthropomorphic. Wakan Tanka is not a dude, being,
entity, or demiurge. It is the mysterious power of the seven directions:
north, south, east, west, up into the sky, down into the earth, and, finally, the
seventh direction, the internal (inside the chest, the heart, the soul). Wakan
Tanka is the God of our ancestors and binds us to them and is experienced
in connection to the wind, the sunlight, the grasslands, and the water.
I came to understand that this loving power is completely and
irrevocably welded to and within nature and cannot truly be understood as
anything separate from the natural world.
Consider this excerpt from a book that in all honesty I have not read but
am excited to quote—Rosalyn Marie Amenta’s The Earth Mysticism of the
Native American Tribal Peoples with Special Reference to the Circle
Symbol and the Sioux Dance Rite:
All the elements of creation, earth, air, fire, and water, all the animals
and trees, all the humans, are extensions, aspects, dimensions, and
reflections of this Great Mystery. In other words the Divine is within the
world, not above the world.
This is reflected in the well-known Lakota prayer of connection,
“Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ,” which translates to “All my relations” or “We are all
related.”
Black Elk famously said,
The first peace, which is the most important, is that which comes
within the souls of people when they realize their relationship, their
oneness with the universe and all its powers, and when they realize at
the center of the universe dwells the Great Spirit, and that its center
is really everywhere, it is within each one of us.
Now, therefore, we shall give thanks, that is, we shall thank the
Creator of the earth, that is, he who planted all kinds of weeds and all
varieties of shrubs and all kinds of trees; and springs, flowing water,
such as rivers and large bodies of water, such as lakes; and the sun
that keeps moving by day, and by night, the moon, and where the sky
is, the stars, which no one is able to count; moreover, the way it is on
earth in relation to which no one is able to tell the extent to which it
is to their benefit, that is the people whom he created and who will
continue to live on earth. This, then, is the reason we thank him, the
one with great power, the one who is the Creator.
Footnotes
5 Yes, true, Morgan Freeman once had that program The Story of God where he jetted around the
world to delve into the world’s religious traditions. And writer / public philosopher Reza Aslan
hosted that tragically short-lived show on CNN entitled Believer where he experientially participated
in diverse spiritual beliefs and ceremonies. But both of these worked more as travelogues with
colorful rituals and a smattering of theology than a specific exploration about how to redefine a
Higher Power in the modern world.
6 Please note: I’m going to use “He” when speaking about the Creator. I know this pronoun is loaded
in this context and has a difficult, challenging history to it. But “It” sounds kind of “icky” (to quote
Carl Sagan), and as much as I’d love to use “She,” it feels like reactively assigning gender identity to
an all-powerful creative force that is beyond all personal gender labels. So—many apologies—in
these brief pages I’ll be using “He.”
7 Yes, Baha’i, like most of the world’s religions, has moral laws about premarital sex. I won’t get into
the ups and downs and pluses and minuses about morality and/or its reason for existing in a
religious/spiritual context, as that’s a doozy of a topic to unravel—the subject of another book,
perhaps?—and far beyond my feeble mental capabilities (as well as my feeble moral compass).
8 Note: World military spending in 2021 was more than $2 trillion—with the United States making
up more than a third of that. This is what $2 trillion looks like: $2,000,000,000,000. One trillion
dollar bills laid end to end would stretch out farther than the distance between Earth and the sun!
9 Note: I’m referring to the second dictionary definition of “materialist,” not a person who seeks
consumerist comfort but one who believes that existence is comprised entirely of the material.
CHAPTER FIVE
A few years back I visited Green Bay, Wisconsin, and as I emerged from its
spotless, bland midwestern airport, the beefy, mustached cab driver cheerily
asked, like some character from Fargo, “You gonna go check out Lambeau
Field? You don’t want to miss it. Pretty much the only thing worth seein’
’round here!” When I told him that I was attending a nearby arts festival
and that I was bummed to be missing out on the renowned local football
stadium, he seemed mildly disappointed. “Well, maybe you can check it out
on your way back. People come from all over the world. Like a
pilgrimage!” We then continued our conversation about the Packers’
chances, the weather, and the varieties of local bratwurst.
But what he said got me pondering more about pilgrimages, about
sacredness, and about holy spaces because, you see, my family and I had
recently been on an actual religious pilgrimage to an actual holy site in
Israel and returned a few weeks prior.
As much as I appreciate Lambeau Field and many other football
stadiums I’ve visited, and as much as I love the transcendent rush I
experience when submerging myself in the outrageous communal emotion
at a Seahawks game, this other pilgrimage was prompted by my religious
faith and was inspired by something I believed to be holy, mysterious, and
important. After all, the dictionary definition of a pilgrimage is “a trip made
to a holy place for religious reasons.” Both my trip to Green Bay and the
one to Israel got me thinking about what is “holy” in America in 2023 and
about where we make “pilgrimages” to. Also, they got me thinking about
what these old-fashioned words offer us at their deepest point of meaning
and how desperately we human beings might need what the words point to.
Note to the reader: Up until this point, I know I’ve been all about the big
stuff. Pandemics. God. Death. We’re going to get to the other mega-doozy
topic—religion—in short order. But for a few pages here, I’m going to
interrupt your “big ideas” programming to wax philosophical about a
simpler and subtler question: What is sacred? I’m going to shift gears and
take a little detour by telling you a story of my travels and the profound
effect they had on me. The themes and issues that I’ll be laying out for you
require more meditative pondering than any seeking of concrete answers.
Think of the following as a kind of poetic contemplation on the sacred, the
holy.
The pilgrimage I made a few years ago to the “holy place for religious
reasons” was incredibly special to me because underneath the soil of the
shrine I visited is buried a prophet—the interred physical remains of a holy
man whom I revere far more than even Green Bay Packers legends Brett
Favre or Aaron Rodgers.
The shrine is located outside of Acre or Akko, Israel, and it is called
Bahji or the Shrine of Bahji (pronounced Bah-zhee), which translates to
“delight” in Arabic. The name of the person who was laid to rest there is
Mirza Husayn-Ali, otherwise known by His title of Baha’u’llah (“Glory of
God” in Arabic). I’ve mentioned Him before. He was the founder of the
Baha’i Faith and someone whose work, example, and mission I study,
follow, and deeply admire.
Why was He buried there? Well, before Baha’u’llah passed away, He
lived for many years in the small estate that is a stone’s throw away from
where He is now entombed. After being exiled from His native Persia in
1853 and living as a prisoner of the Ottoman Empire starting in 1863, He
spent the last years of His life under house arrest there, from 1879 until
1892.
The pilgrims who visit this holy place are members of the Baha’i Faith
and come to this location in northern Israel from every corner of the globe.
Among the almost two hundred Baha’is visiting for our scheduled nine-day
pilgrimage trip were believers from as far away as South Africa, Romania,
and the Philippines. Thousands of tourists also come to visit the gardens
and this particular sacred site as it is open to people of all faiths. I went with
my wife, Holiday, also a Baha’i, and our teenage son, Walter, because we
wanted him to experience sacredness on a visceral level that he would
hopefully remember forever.
We dressed nicely, not in formalwear or anything, but we didn’t want to
visit this most cherished spot in something like jeans, Crocs, or cargo
shorts. We arrived by bus at the visitors center with several dozen other
pilgrims and prepared ourselves for the long walk from there to the central
grounds and buildings.
The site of Bahji, which is several hundred acres large, is immaculately
groomed, with crushed red stone pathways that flow away from the central
edifice in a star-like pattern. Numerous flitting hummingbirds swoop and
spin around the verdant hedges and trees. A tall, beautiful wrought iron gate
frames the entrance to the outer perimeter of the shrine area, a beautiful
latticework that demarcates the sacred space on the other side and helps to
give the grounds a distinct, sublime feeling. The pilgrim passes through
those iron gates and approaches the outside of the stone shrine with an ever-
blooming attitude of respect—head bowed, hushed, reverent.
When we entered the area, we felt a change in the very air of the
gardens. The scent of oranges and jasmine was profound. The air seemed to
vibrate with a joyful feeling. Joyful and still all at once.
Even if you’re not religious or don’t consider yourself spiritual in the
slightest, I can’t imagine anyone approaching the grounds not having some
kind of a sensation of awe or inspiration. In fact I spoke to several visitors
who were not Baha’is and who acknowledged that very fact. It’s in the air.
When we got to the entrance of the small stone building, the destination
of our journey, we along with everyone else removed our shoes at a covered
alcove outside the door that leads inside the shrine. (I’m sorry to admit this,
but I was extremely grateful my socks didn’t have any holes in them.) There
is a small velvet box filled with prayer books in dozens of languages that
folks from all over the world can use to say Baha’i prayers.
Tradition asks that you enter the simple but ornate doors with a bowed
head and to always be facing the specific area inside where this great divine
teacher is buried—never turning one’s back toward the actual point of
adoration, as that would feel slightly disrespectful. Slowly, carefully, we
entered the edifice itself, which is approximately fifty feet by fifty feet and
was built well over one hundred years ago, originally as a guesthouse. As
we entered the main room, we saw a central alcove now roofed with glass
skylights, like a greenhouse. The floors were covered in the most beautiful
overlapping antique silk and wool Persian carpets that you’ve ever seen.
Well-tended plants, ferns, and flowers decorated this central area of the
inner sanctum, and the vines reached toward the ceiling and the skylights,
up toward the light, allowing the space to become both a beautiful
conservatory garden as well as a sacred mausoleum.
I found the room hushed and still, even when it had dozens of people
inside. The muted crack of prayer beads. An occasional muffled sob.
Outside, the intermittent caw of a far-off crow. A hint of sweet jasmine and
incense in the air.
There were a few small rooms that branch off from the central
skylighted one, and in every room we saw visitors in all modes of dress
from their native cultures, sitting or on their knees or prostrated, always
facing the burial area, which was partitioned with a translucent curtain and
illumined by a small lamp—under the floor of which, Baha’u’llah was
interred.
I sat on the beautiful antique silk and wool rugs and prayed. Some of the
prayers I read from a Baha’i prayer book and some I recited from my heart.
I said prayers for loved ones. Prayers of praise and gratitude. Prayers for
help and assistance. And sometimes I would stop and just be still and silent
for long, long stretches of time. And it should be noted that when I mention
“said” a prayer, most of the time it was simply “feeling” a prayer—a
generally beseeching kind of loving-kindness and warmth in my heart.
My mind was mostly quiet, tranquil. At times my heart was filled to
bursting with emotion, joy, and exaltation. And then, at other times, I felt
oddly removed. I may have wept. I can’t remember. I can remember being
very uncomfortable on the floor and adjusting my position a good deal, as
my chubby middle-aged legs tend to fall asleep a lot.
I also remember thinking to myself repeatedly, kind of like a giggly
teenager, “Wow! I’m in one of the most sacred places in the world. Cool!”
But mostly I was in a deeply extended place of reverence and peace
among the ferns and vines and pilgrims and rugs and the aroma of holiness.
I sat in that small sacred space for what I assumed to be about an hour
but could have easily been two or three. Time worked strangely in that
place. It seemed to slip away and elude one’s grasp for some reason. It
didn’t feel linear. Time felt somewhat elongated there, like molasses. It
reminded me of times I had sat in a deep forest wilderness and was so
transported in noticing the sounds and smells around me that I completely
lost track of the clock.
Before leaving, I pressed my forehead to the threshold of the corner of
the shrine, where the veil to the inner sanctum was, and said a quick,
humble prayer of thanks.
When exiting the shrine, one backs away slowly, with reverence. This
can be a little tricky as there are three small stairs leading into the building
and walking backward down them can be a little challenging for the elderly
and people like me who are prone to falling down at the most inopportune
places and times. I pictured myself tumbling backward down those little
stairs in front of all these reverential pilgrims like Jim Carrey from some
’90s comedy and springing back up: “Alrighty then!”
Once we had respectfully backed away from the shrine a bit and turned
our attention back to the surrounding gardens, I found that the world had
shifted. It’s like when you hit your windshield wipers and spritz the glass in
front of you and all of a sudden you realize just how dirty it had been. Just
like that, you can see everything outside your car with a renewed clarity.
It was like that. Only in my heart.
I saw the beautiful hedges and olive trees and birds in a new light. I felt
renewed. Tranquil. Joyous. Like something unseen had shifted.
The eldest son of Baha’u’llah, ‘Abdu’l-Baha (who holds a very special
station in the Baha’i Faith), said of pilgrimage, “Holy places are
undoubtedly centers of the outpouring of Divine grace, because on entering
the illumined sites associated with martyrs and holy souls, and by observing
reverence, both physical and spiritual, one’s heart is moved with great
tenderness.”
Indeed, my heart, after just a small window of time in that precious
sanctuary, was filled with a great tenderness. A tenderness that comes from
repeated demonstrations and expressions of reverence as well as a
prolonged contemplative silence.
The Shrine at Bahji is so sacred that for the Baha’is of the world it is the
point of adoration, the Qiblih, the focus point that Baha’is turn to when they
say their daily prayer. It is the point that ‘Abdu’l-Baha says is the
“luminous shrine,” “around which circumambulate the Concourse on
High,” a convocation of the holiest angels in heaven. Just as many Jews
focus their rites toward the Temple Wall in Jerusalem and Muslims perform
their five-times-daily prayer facing the Kaaba (most holy spot) in Mecca,
Baha’is from all over the world face this garden near Haifa in reverential
daily devotion.
While reciting the “Short Obligatory Prayer,” Baha’is both physically
and metaphorically turn their hearts to this exact geographic point at some
point during the day. (There’s even a compass app that shows you exactly
which direction to face.) We say a short daily prayer that Baha’is believe
reveals why we are alive, why we were created.
Baha’u’llah writes in one sentence of this brief prayer, “I bear witness,
O My God, that Thou hast created me to know Thee and to worship Thee”
(italics mine). It’s really that simple. It all boils down to that. Our ultimate
purpose is to “know and worship” the Creator. (What that exactly means is
the topic for another chapter. Or another book.) And Baha’is the world over
are reminded of this purpose on a daily basis as they turn, often from tens of
thousands of miles away, toward this shrine that my family and I had just
visited.
In so many ways, this garden, for me, was the paragon of the sacred. So
much so that in the days and weeks that followed my pilgrimage to the
Baha’i Holy Lands in Israel, I kept tossing all these words and concepts
around in my head. Words that we don’t examine much or really think
about in our daily life. Words that are almost entirely missing from
everyday society and work. Words like:
• Sacred
• Pilgrimage
• Holy
• Reverence
• Divine
• Blessed
• Devotion
• Sanctity
• Devout
• Prayer
• Prostration
• Worship
• Shrine
And the word that stood out to me most was “sacred.” No exploration of the
spiritual journey would be complete without an examination of the sacred.
It’s a difficult word to define these days. What does it mean exactly? It
exists somewhere on that master list of other truly difficult-to-define words,
like “holy,” “blessed,” “divine.”
In the same category as other hard-to-define words, like “frittata,”
“nonplussed,” and “socialism.”
When I asked my friends Merriam and Webster, I zeroed in on their
second definition of the word as the one I’m most interested in.
I am intrigued by this definition of “sacred”:
My hope here is to spark only one action in your mind and heart: a
moment of pause. Reflect on the questions above. Reflect on what you do
or don’t find sacred. Perhaps the goal is to find what you consider sublime
and then slowly, ever so slowly, increase it. Increase day by day what is
sacred to you. Reflect on what could be gained by finding ever more
pockets of the divine in your daily life. Share your findings with someone
close to you. Or, even better, someone you’re not close to.
Going back to the cultural divide around the concept. What if it’s all
true? What if it’s all sacred? What if it’s not an either-or? Jesus taught love.
That’s most certainly sacred. Science teaches interconnectedness, which is
(for all practical purposes) the same thing as love. Families, whatever their
form, are sacred. Humanity, after all, is itself a kind of family, eight billion
strong, inhabiting the same ball of mud in outer space. Stars are sacred, as
are churches and trees and babies in utero. And so are human rights and the
symbol of the cross and how we identify and define our individuality. What
if what brought us all together, all us people in contemporary America, was
a focus on the light in our lives—things that healed wounds and gave our
divided, confused, distracted, and outraged world some solace and unity?
What if sacredness, rather than being relegated to a place or a thing, was
a condition? A condition of holding divine light. An internal condition of
communion. As when a flower turns toward the sun or an owl toward the
moon. Can the sacred live in the sharp intake of breath caused by the beauty
of a sunset? In the ripple of the words “I love you” said to a spouse or child
or parent or friend?
The recognition of the blessed, radiant nature of each and every human
being, sanctified in grace?
At the end of the day, I really don’t have any answers. Maybe Basho
does. I wish he were around to ask.
I picture Basho walking through our modern world in his medieval
robes, demonstrating to us all how to “live poetry.” Maybe that’s what
makes a pilgrimage at the end of the day. Living in poetry.
I imagine Basho journeying to the Shrine at Bahji, where he removes his
sandals and bows his head in reverence as he picks up a prayer book. He
backs out of the sacred space and, hand in hand with Baha’u’llah, walks
along the freeway toward the Middle West of the United States. Captain
James T. Kirk and Kwai Chang Caine join them as they walk. Together they
cross the plains of the Dakotas, where they meet up with Luther Standing
Bear and Black Elk and, eventually, that cab driver from the Wisconsin
airport. Basho walks with all of them, these sacred pilgrims. He walks with
every one of us, secular and spiritual, city folk and country folk, pilgrims
all, through the streets of Green Bay to the iron gates of the legendary
Lambeau Field itself. Leaving behind poetry and prayers. Making
everything sacred in his wake.
CHAPTER SIX
RELIGION, SCHMELIGION
On a hot summer day in 2002, a Coptic monk moved his chair from
its agreed spot into the shade. This was interpreted as a hostile move
by the Ethiopians and eleven were hospitalized after the resulting
fracas. In another incident in 2004, during Orthodox celebrations of
the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, a door to the Franciscan chapel was
left open. This was taken as a sign of disrespect by the Orthodox and
a fistfight broke out. Some people were arrested, but no one was
seriously injured.
On Palm Sunday, in April 2008, a brawl broke out when a Greek
monk was ejected from the building by a rival faction. Police were
called to the scene but were also attacked by the enraged brawlers.
On Sunday, 9 November 2008, a clash erupted between Armenian
and Greek monks during celebrations for the Feast of the Cross.
When our tour was finished, I looked around one last time at the Temple
Mount, and my heart was saddened. As I gazed over the gorgeous ancient
city of Jerusalem, I could feel the disunity and mistrust between faiths. A
powder keg of simmering antagonism that could lead to world war. Right
here at the crux of three of the holiest sites in the world.
There in the most revered place on the planet, as we gave our hugs and
goodbyes to Bruce, I was struck by the fact that sometimes peace and unity
feels downright impossible. Especially here in the “muddle east.”
But as I considered my trip over the following months, I came to believe
that maybe there’s another way. Perhaps the path to seeing the world’s
religions as a potential source of progress is to explore the universal truths
that unite them. Common threads that could show everyone everywhere that
these faiths are not, at their core, as disparate and divisive as they appear.
Perhaps they are all just different paths to one cosmic truth. Oooh, that’s a
good idea. Let’s dig into that next!
Footnote
10 In fact, in another odd interdenominational twist, the Jordanian monarchy, the Hashemites, has
had jurisdiction over the Christian and Muslim holy sites in Jerusalem for one hundred years and
views itself as the guarantor of their religious rights in the city.
CHAPTER SEVEN
1. A higher power
2. Life after death
3. The power of prayer
4. Transcendence
5. Community
6. A moral compass
7. The force of love
8. Increased compassion
9. Service to the poor
10. A strong sense of purpose11
1. A HIGHER POWER
Whatever you call it, God in some way, shape, or form exists in every
religious faith. He comes by many names, but all the world’s major
religions identify a divine force that is or was or permeates all things. I
covered this pretty extensively in Chapter 4, and I don’t want to take up any
more space or time waxing on about the Notorious G.O.D.
But I’d like to use this literary real estate to address one specific point in
the context of this master list: Buddhism and God.
Many point to Buddhism as an example of a religious movement
without a central concept of a higher power, but this isn’t entirely true. Yes,
Buddhists do not “worship” any supreme being, but in seeking bliss,
nirvana, and enlightenment, there is an inherent spiritual force guiding that
process. Siddhartha Gautama, a.k.a. the Buddha, proclaims in Udana 8:3 of
the Khuddaka Nikaya, “There is an Unborn, an Unoriginated, an Unmade,
an Uncompounded; were there not, O mendicants, there would be no escape
from the world of the born, the originated, the made, and the compounded.”
This, in my opinion, is another way to describe God without all that
pesky Judeo-Christian anthropomorphism. In the Buddhist universe-view as
I see it, this force is the spiritual juice that makes the salvation of nirvana
possible. Which is very much in line with Christian philosopher Paul
Tillich’s definition of God as “the Ground of all Being” and with
Baha’u’llah’s view of God as “an Unknowable Essence.”
So there it is—the first (somewhat obvious) unifying principle of all
religions—a belief in something or someone bigger than creation, who is
beyond all comprehension.
And the benefit of this in a religious context? Humility. To think of the
Divine Source is to feel rightfully small in an expansive universe. A
reminder that, despite what our self-obsessed society tells us, the band
Kansas was 100 percent right when they sang, “All we are is dust in the
wind.”
3. POWER OF PRAYER
All religions have some version of prayer, of supplication to and
communion with the Divine. Whether mystical, personal, communal, or
ceremonial, prayer seeks a dialogue with the Profound Mystery that both
surrounds and surpasses all of us. Perhaps it is having a personal
conversation with Jesus, performing dawn devotionals, or lighting incense
or candles. Maybe it’s chanting, counting prayer beads, group singing,
shouting praise, or invoking hymns. Or it might be ecstatic dancing, ringing
bells, cleansing ablutions, bowing in a certain direction, or a
circumambulation. Whatever form it takes, devotional prayer is among the
oldest acts of humans on the planet. And among the most sacred.
The Jewish siddur (prayer book) offers many beautiful prayers. The
Modeh Ani is recited upon awakening each morning before leaving one’s
bed: “I give thanks before you, King living and eternal, for You have
returned within me my soul with compassion; abundant is Your
faithfulness!”
A Hindu prayer begins, “My soul listen unto me! Love thy Lord as the
lotus loves water.”
Daily obligatory prayers or salat are recited five times a day by Muslims
as they bow in humility toward Mecca. “Glory and praise be to You, O
Allah. Blessed be Your name and exalted be Your majesty, there is none
worthy of worship except You.”
Although Buddhism doesn’t necessarily subscribe to a creator god,
Buddhists nonetheless supplicate to the majesty of the universe with such
beautiful prayers as the Metta Prayer and the Golden Chain Prayer.
One of my most favorite offerings comes from the Navajo (Diné)
people:
4. TRANSCENDENCE
On the macro level, religion has helped (or some might say it’s even
caused) humanity to transcend being mere organic, animalistic biorobots
whose behavior is shaped by the rewards and punishments of our
environments. Instead, through some core ideals of religious practice,
humans have been able to rise above the demands of their genes and
evolutionary programming to put community ahead of their selfish
interests. All faith traditions urge us toward this type of transcendence.
Buddhism encourages meditation to realize that we can not only rise
above self but also come to the realization that we had no “self” to begin
with. Islam, especially through its Sufi form, urges reaching the state of
fana, a transcendental selflessness.
In the Hindu holy text, the Bhagavad Gita, transcendence is described as
a level of spiritual attainment in which one is no longer under the control of
materialistic or animalistic desires.
When scholars of the positive psychology movement Christopher
Peterson and Martin Seligman searched the major holy books and
philosophical texts of humanity for universal virtues, one of the six they
identified was transcendence. (The other five are wisdom, courage, love,
temperance, and justice.) Those psychologists consider the basic human
trait of transcendence to include the character strengths of spirituality (or
sense of purpose), appreciation of beauty, gratitude, humor, and hope.
Remember Plato’s famous allegory of the cave? Human beings are
chained to chairs facing a stone wall, unable to turn around. Behind them
there glows a great light from a fire and an even greater reality that exists
outside the mouth of the cave. Between the fire and the backs of the people
in their chairs are other folks carrying miscellaneous objects, dancing, and
using shadow puppets. The chained humans watch the flickering shadows
dancing on the stone wall (like a movie!), convinced that that is reality,
when, in fact, there is far greater truth, beauty, and actual life just outside of
the reach of our perception.
This idea that there are realms of mystery, truth, and glory just beyond
our vision, that we are intimately connected to these realms, and that it is
part of our journey to eventually partake of them—is inherent in some way,
shape, or form to all the religions of the past.
In most all faith traditions, we are not just our bodies, minds, or feelings.
Reality is not just “stuff.” There are realms, invisible to the eye, to be
perceived only by spiritual means. And part of our sojourn in this glorious,
infuriating land of mud is a longing for the transcendence radiating from the
light outside the mouth of the cave.
This is a profound idea that can unify humans around the idea that there
is more to life than the sometimes tedious day-to-day pursuit of pleasure,
status, comfort, and the obtaining of stuff.
5. COMMUNITY
What is a community? According to Merriam-Webster, it is a “unified body
of individuals.” The definition continues: “people with common interests
living within a particular area.”
People with common interests? Explains why early communities were
simply extended family in a cave. But eventually, that definition gradually
evolved to local village to tribe to city to general geographic area to nation
to people/race.
And then there’s “religion,” a way to bind folks together in some never-
before-seen ways. It was no longer what village or family or even “people”
you hailed from. It was what you believed. Social cohesion was created by
the rituals, worship, and ceremonies adherents collectively engaged in, plus
a shared set of ethics and a common sacred mythology. What bound us was
no longer solely based on genetics, familial affiliations, or ancestry.
Religious communities allow the communal love to go far deeper than
the familial. Or rather, it extends the concept of family to fit a larger vision.
It binds us and bonds us while giving perspective through life’s most
difficult transitions, including marriage, birth, and death. It allows a
witnessing of a common divine spark within diverse believers, creating a
commonality on a transcendental level.
But more important than these factors, there is a set of behavioral
consistencies that emerge from a group of people focused on the same
collective mindset. A common purpose, mission, and sense of meaning that
creates inner peace and social stability. Evolutionary biologists have even
suggested that religion was naturally selected because it was so successful
in building communities in which everyone cared for each other, thus
increasing the survival rate of adherents.
Picture, if you will, colorful Hindu festivals filled with joyful
celebration; Buddhist monks deep in the stillness of contemplation; the
ecstatic whirling dervishes of the Sufi tradition; raucous, praise-filled
Baptist choirs lifting the entire congregation; sacred Indigenous American
sweat lodges (or sun dances); Muslim pilgrims encircling the Kaaba in
glorious submission; Jews sitting shiva after a death, being lovingly visited
(with food!) by countless members of the local temple. The Sikh concept of
langar, which creates a vibrant communal table open to folks of every caste
and societal class at every Sikh temple—a practice that expands to
encompass feeding the poor and destitute.
This is how community feels. How it works. What it provides. And, to a
large extent, what is increasingly missing from our fractured, postmodern
lives.
Today, we often find community not in a town hall or a church but rather
online. Church membership in the United States has plummeted, and
instead of filling pulpits, we now log on to screens to find “our village.” On
Reddit message boards, for instance, there are subreddit communities for
whatever interest or passion you might have, be it squeaky-toy collectors,
Alabama socialists, or foot fetishists. These odd assemblages feel like
community due to sharing similar interests, but the intimate bonding, trust,
and camaraderie can frequently be lacking.
New York Times political and cultural commentator David Brooks, in his
recent (magnificent) book The Second Mountain: The Quest for a Moral
Life, says of this shift to online community,
6. A MORAL COMPASS
Nobody likes morals. Yuck. No one wants to be told about what’s right and
wrong. Especially these days. We in the modern Western world want to be
free to do what we want, where we want, when we want. And we certainly
don’t want any judgmental church lady, ancient dusty book, or moralistic
cleric lecturing us on what is good or bad, right or wrong.
That being said, morality and ethics are everywhere and inescapable.
You simply don’t go into a Starbucks and just grab any drink off the
counter.
You don’t cut someone off and slip into the parking space that they’ve
been inching toward.
And this is for my son, Walter, if you’re reading this: you don’t grab
someone’s remote and change the channel while they’re in the middle of
watching their show!
What seems to be happening in contemporary society is that universal
morals—ideas about what is essentially right and wrong—are being
continually downgraded and degraded for ever-shifting socially constructed
ethics and mores.
Here is an example that I hope illustrates what I’m describing.
In politics, there used to be a measure of civility that arose from a
greater historical sense of basic human decency. There are basic time-
honored precepts that one should be kind and respectful and never call
people names. (I mean, didn’t our moms and kindergarten teachers tell us
not to?) But now we find that the political parties in America, both of which
claim to be inspired by Christian values, find it perfectly OK to label
political enemies with insults and crass nicknames. Every day we see
politicians excoriate each other—taunt, mock, and name-call other “public
servants.” And not only has this become acceptable, it is lauded as a show
of strength and real leadership.
In other words, what historically was seen as grotesque bullying is now
commonplace. This behavior has moved from the “never do this; it’s not
right” column to the “this is now awesome” column because social ethics
have trumped basic universal rights and wrongs. In this scenario the ends
justify the means. Civility be damned. As long as the right team wins, it
doesn’t matter how immorally, divisively, and cruelly a candidate or
campaign behaves.
This lack of civility in public life has been largely fueled by the
increasing use of the internet and social media. People are bullying, mean,
and derisive in ways they would never be in real life. We see racism,
sexism, and general cruelty being expressed on the web in ever-increasing
volumes.
From the vantage of a spiritual framework, the fundamental reason one
does not mock, bully, and call other people names is because (besides it
being unkind) it is not good for the development of the soul, nor is it in
emulation of the great spiritual teachers and leaders (Jesus, the Buddha,
Mohammed). Such behavior does not bring us closer to the divine will and
is not in alignment with the great cosmic creative spirit of the universe.
What faith communities throughout history have provided their
adherents is the idea that there is a higher sense of right and wrong, a list of
shared values, that comes from a timeless vision, from an ancient soul-
place, a horizon of what is just and acceptable. From the Divine Source
even.
When universal moral frameworks accede to acceptable current societal
ethics, to quote William Butler Yeats, “The center cannot hold.”
Pulitzer Prize–winning historian Barbara Tuchman, author of the
amazing The March of Folly: From Troy to Vietnam, once said, “Have
nations ever declined from a loss of moral sense rather than from physical
reasons of the pressure of barbarians? I think that they have.”
Now, there is a much more complicated and nuanced conversation to be
had about morality and ethics, far too complex for us to get into here. And I
certainly don’t mean to imply that society’s “moral decay”—frequently
shouted from pulpits, the mouths of reactionary pundits, and the political
campaigns of the world—means any kind of return to the “good old days”
of slavery, sexism, colonialism, and patriarchy. But there is a balance
between ethics and morality on one side and individual rights, freedoms,
and choice on the other that seems crucial to societal development, and we
humans haven’t quite figured out that give-and-take yet.
Perhaps there are clues to be found as we keep unearthing ancient
wisdom from deep in our historical bedrock. We can still listen to our
conscience and access our modern ethical rationality, but ultimately
religious morality is not just church ladies, “thou shalts,” and Sharia law. It
can provide the universal scales upon which to weigh the promptings of our
hearts and the occasional faultiness of our reasoning.
Love is the only reality.… It is the ultimate truth that lies at the heart
of creation.
—Rabindranath Tagore
Love is the light that guideth in darkness, the living link that uniteth
God with man, that assureth the progress of every illumined soul.
Love is the most great law that ruleth this mighty and heavenly cycle,
the unique power that bindeth together the divers elements of this
material world, the supreme magnetic force that directeth the
movements of the spheres in the celestial realms. Love revealeth with
unfailing and limitless power the mysteries latent in the universe.
Love is the spirit of life unto the adorned body of mankind.
If one thing unites all religions, all faiths, it is the universality of the law
of love.
And as with my point about prayer, we are called to move our concept of
love from beyond a mere feeling in the chest to action! Because isn’t that
what it’s ultimately about? If you love your relations, your country, your
planet, you do something to help, nurture, and support them, right?
Mother Teresa sums this up with, “Love cannot remain by itself—it has
no meaning. Love has to be put into action and that action is service.”
8. INCREASED COMPASSION
The yin to the yang of love is the Golden Rule, a simple yet profound
teaching found in every religious tradition in the world.
Let’s look at a few:
AFRICAN TRADITION
One who is going to take a pointed stick to pinch a baby bird should
first try it on himself to feel how it hurts.
—Yoruba proverb
BAHA’I FAITH
Lay not on any soul a load that you would not wish to be laid upon
you, and desire not for anyone the things you would not desire for
yourself.
—Baha’u’llah
BUDDHISM
Treat not others in ways that you yourself would find hurtful.
—The Buddha
CHRISTIANITY
In everything, do to others as you would have them do to you; for
this is the law and the prophets.
—Jesus
CONFUCIANISM
One word which sums up the basis of all good conduct… loving-
kindness. Do not do to others what you do not want done to yourself.
—Confucius
HINDUISM
This is the sum of duty: do not do to others what would cause pain if
done to you.
—The Mahabharata
ISLAM
Not one of you truly believes until you wish for others what you wish
for yourself.
—Muhammad
JAINISM
One should treat all creatures in the world as one would like to be
treated.
—Mahavira, Sutrakritanga 1.11.33
JUDAISM
What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor. This is the whole
Torah; all the rest is commentary. Go and learn it.
—Rabbi Hillel, the Talmud
SIKHISM
If thou desirest thy Beloved, then hurt thou not anyone’s heart.
—Guru Arjan Dev Ji 259, Guru Granth Sahib
TAOISM
Regard your neighbor’s gain as your own gain and your neighbor’s
loss as your own loss.
—Lao-tzu
ZOROASTRIANISM
Do not do unto others whatever is injurious to yourself.
—Zoroaster
To me, the fact that the phrasings of this essential spiritual law are so
similar over countless centuries indicates the deepest foundational oneness
of all faiths.
In fact, in the past I’ve done a public exercise where I’ve written all the
versions of the Golden Rule on slips of paper without their source and had
participants try to guess which faith the phrases come from. No one can
ever discern whether that version of the Golden Rule comes from a two-
hundred-year-old or twenty-five-hundred-year-old religion.
At its core, the Golden Rule is about one universal concept: compassion.
Deeply consider, the great spiritual traditions implore, how your actions
might affect another person. Put yourself in their shoes. Exercise empathy.
Use your heart’s imagination and consider their feelings in the same way
we innately consider our own. Put this into action. Make it spiritual law.
Not only will your life be better for it, but the world will be a better place as
well.
We are all here on earth to help others; what on earth the others are
here for I don’t know.
—W. H. Auden
Having a spark of consciousness in this mysterious, difficult, and gorgeous
universe fills us with questions: Who are we? What makes the sun and the
stars move? How can I feel happier? What happens when we die? What
does it all mean? The mythologies of religious writings and traditions offer
us potential answers to these timeless, persistent inquiries.
In fact, I believe it’s a key reason why many world faiths thrive and,
occasionally, work. Religion provides solace, if not always answers, to
many, if not most, of life’s biggest possible questions. And when those
questions are addressed with wisdom, we begin to get clarity. Most every
spiritual path provides its followers with that most vital, most juicy
ingredient of all: the meaning of life! And its corresponding sense of
purpose and direction.
Buddhists strive to live in the moment, free of attachment, following the
eightfold path toward enlightenment and bliss. Muslims live in
“submission” to Allah and His will, study His word in the Holy Quran, and
follow the five pillars of Islam. Christians find deep meaning in enacting
the Lord’s two greatest commandments: (1) “You shall love the Lord your
God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.” (This is
the first and great commandment.) And its corollary, (2) “You shall love
your neighbor as yourself.”
Hindus find meaning and purpose in life through dharma (ethically
fulfilling personal duties that lead to service of all creation and God),
through artha (striving for material and spiritual wealth, success, and
prosperity), through kama (enjoying the practical activities of life in
moderation and in pursuit of one’s dharmic destiny), and finally, through
moksha (enlightenment or awakening).
Having a sense of meaning in your difficult, complicated life is a big
prize. But what kind of meaning are we talking about? The big-picture
purpose, like, “What is the purpose of life itself?” (The outer, more Star
Trek path.) Or the micro-picture purpose, as in “What is my purpose in
life?” (The internal Kung Fu path.)
Fortunately, religion offers enlightenment around both sets of purpose-
filled questions.
The big-picture purpose question is answered by integrating many of the
universals of religion found in this chapter: build a loving, compassionate
community guided by justice (right and wrong), seeking to transcend its
humble monkey-mind beginnings to reach for the stars. And it’s not just
about occasionally giving a couple bucks to the poor but collectively
putting prayer, love, and compassion into action so that poverty itself is no
longer allowed to exist.
Conversely, turning toward the inner path of our own individual
purpose, we are called on to nurture our God-given talents, develop our
divine attributes (kindness, love, honesty, compassion, etc.), and find
tranquility and unity while in service to the aforementioned big-picture
purpose.
In a nutshell, religions give us both a personal reason to exist as well as
a greater, loftier collective goal. In a world where we are suffocating in a
pandemic of despair, loneliness, and anxiety, discovering meaning, focus,
purpose, and direction is what we need more than ever in this exceptionally
chaotic time.
So there you have it. My take on the ten foundational principles exemplified
and encompassed by most of the world’s religious traditions. The rich, raw,
meaty stuff that comprises the building blocks we need to both construct a
vibrant human community and become better, more enlightened human
beings.
As I related in Chapter 2, one of the biggest pandemics sweeping the
world as I write this has very little to do with COVID-19 and much more to
do with the mental health decline infesting the psyches of young people.
It bears repeating: the numbers are astounding. For the first time in
history, the attorney general of the United States issued an advisory on the
youth mental health crisis in 2021. To quote one tiny section of the report,
“Between 2007 and 2018, suicide rates among youth ages 10–24 in the U.S.
increased by 57%.”
And from a 2022 article in the New York Times on the teen mental health
crisis, “In 2019, 13 percent of adolescents reported having a major
depressive episode, a 60 percent increase from 2007.”
The statistics continue to pile up unabated.
In his wonderful book Plays Well with Others: The Surprising Science
Behind Why Everything You Know About Relationships Is (Mostly) Wrong,
author Eric Barker cites a study looking at the brain scans of lonely people.
The scans showed that those who feel lonely search their environment for
threats twice as often as nonlonely people. Humans are quite skilled at
sweeping our surroundings for perceived dangers—it’s how we survived for
millennia. It’s what kept us alive. The shake of a bush, the crunch of a twig
—these could easily be a lion or bear seeking to eat us. And if lonely people
are living their daily lives scanning for bush shaking and twig crunching at
twice the normal rate, then their anxiety skyrockets. And the greater the
anxiety, the deeper the loneliness. Which creates more anxiety. And round
and round the cycle goes.
What are some of the most powerful tools in relieving this anxiety and
disconnection?
I believe they can be found in some of the universals of religious
wisdom mentioned here—shared purpose, connection to the transcendent,
and the building of community. It’s the support and bonds of these loving
communities that relieve both loneliness and its close companion, anxiety.
Those concepts, along with prayer, love, and increased compassion, help
decrease loneliness, and provide serenity and well-being. They also help
generate that most precious of resources in today’s world: hope. In other
words, perhaps this mental health epidemic could be allayed by what we
might have lost by the jettisoning of all things “religion.”
So which religion, right? That’s the question you’ve all been thinking.
But which one, Rainn? And maybe none of the existing religions can work
—they’re perhaps too mired in stigma, historical failings, bureaucracy, and
bad PR.
Hey, here’s an idea! Why don’t we build our own damn religion? One
that can change the world for the better and give us a fresh start!
Possible? Let’s see.
Footnote
11 Disclaimer: An obvious commonality among all the world’s major religions is the organization
around the message of a “central figure”—the larger-than-life, divine teacher, such as Buddha,
Krishna, Moses, Christ, Mohammad, or Baha’u’llah, who was revered and who sacrificed His life for
his respective messages of inner peace and world love. You know, the OG influencers of planetary
spiritual transformation. But the existence of a central figure won’t be one of the ten truths we
explore. For one, over the centuries, many of these great individuals have become, sadly, divisive
figures. And my goal is to focus on the core teachings that emerged through the revelations of these
great figures, not the presence of the figure itself.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Now, this prediction very clearly states that such a religion will “not be
invented” and that we will need another teacher to launch such a world-
sweeping, modern movement. “New great teachers” we don’t have in this
little bookish endeavor. I’m certainly not one. I shudder at the thought of
being any kind of actor-guru, dispersing wisdom in a kaftan from my
Instagram feed alongside jokes about farts and robots and dachshunds. I
mean, I can barely get through the average day without some mini anxiety
attack or crisis of self-doubt. Plus, I’m just too weird and deeply flawed.
And besides, no one wants to follow a religion run by some unemployed
actor!
So without any great teacher at the center, let’s start this endeavor off
with a great underlying story.
MYTHOLOGY
It’s crucial that this new religion we are assembling, like those from the
past, be grounded in a profound, sweeping mythology that is rich with
parable and metaphor.
Consider how universally lauded the fictional mythology of Star Wars
is.
A young, floppy-haired blond dude on an alien desert planet discovers a
message hidden inside a random droid. This, in turn, leads him to discover
an enormous battle between good and evil going on and that he has an
innate connection to a secret congregation of mystical warriors with access
to a mysterious power called “the Force.” A power stronger than anything
created by mere technology. And then he discovers a connection between
him and his sister, a literal princess; his father, a dark lord; and his own
internal battle between good and evil! I mean, come on! How great is that?
If you’re a film history buff, you know that George Lucas formulated his
epic tale in consultation with author Joseph Campbell, a professor of
comparative mythology. His celebrated outline of the core story points to
the archetypal story of The Hero with a Thousand Faces. This symbolic
structure is part of what makes the Star Wars epic so powerful.
In the surprise sociology best-seller Sapiens: A Brief History of
Humankind, author Yuval Noah Harari offers a panoramic history of
humanity in the context of a species transforming itself and being
transformed as it evolves on a planet in space. It details some of the key
turning points of our fragile and adaptive race as we progress
technologically, agriculturally, and socially. This mythological/sociological
perspective is incredibly valuable—the book highlights the sweeping
reverberations of one species on a planet and makes the journey of our
genus feel epic in scope.
Both Joseph Campbell and Yuval Noah Harari connect dots in
memorable (albeit disparate) ways, both specifically and metaphorically,
about who we are, how we got here, and where we might be going.
Fundamentally, I believe the new faith we fabricate will require some
more powerful voices and thinkers than me to articulate the need for this
movement in a greater mythological sense—to tell the story of where we
are headed in our spiritual evolution and revolution. We don’t need a movie
or graphic novel filled with monsters and lasers and good versus evil, but
we do need a compelling narrative that reveals how humanity can and will
evolve at the grassroots from a fractured, warlike past toward a united,
peaceful future.
But back to the task at hand. Inventing a new religion. We have here
some collective ideas that have been mulled over, sifted through, and
codified for your perusing pleasure. (Yes, I’ll admit, many of the key points
of this imaginary faith are remarkably similar to those of my faith, the
Baha’i Faith. I’m not stealing; I’m only borrowing! I mean, why not? It’s
got a great and inspiring foundation!)
We have been concocting a religion for you, dear reader, to actively
investigate and make a conscious choice to become a member of, which is a
complete departure from how most people join a faith. In most cases, a
person inherits the faith community of their parents and surrounding
community. People throughout the world rarely, if ever, “convert” these
days. If your parents, family, and village are Catholics in Sicily, well then,
by gum, you’re a Catholic! You’re not out investigating Tibetan Buddhism
or going to an informational Sufi gathering. If your village in rural Pakistan
is Muslim, well then, so are you! You’re not seeking out a study group on
the Bhagavad Gita or going to a local Quaker prayer circle.
So let’s get to work. We are going to attempt to create out of whole
cloth, right here on these very pages, a religion that could potentially help
us to progress spiritually in a revolutionary new fashion. To help humanity
mature and collectively make increasingly moral, compassionate choices.
To help youth deal with the epic mental health struggles and other
pandemics that surround us. To help individuals find peace, hope, and
meaning in their hectic, disconnected modern lives. To make the world a
better place.
Fasten your spiritual seat belts!
First things first: we need a name.
As we need an enormous explosion of spirituality to move toward this
new reality (and putting the unfortunate “boomer” connotation aside), I’m
going to go with SoulBoom, the Religion™. Apologies if this comes off as
narcissistic or self-promotional, but it’s my book and I get to do as I like. So
kiss my holy ghost.
Now, what does SoulBoom™ believe? Look like? Practice? Stand for?
Let’s start by assuming that SoulBoom has all the universal markers of
any of the world’s great religions. Those ten fundamentals we explored in
the last chapter. To recap:
11. No clerics. What would you think about a religion with no clergy?
We here at SoulBoom are all for it.
One of the miracles of the Twelve-Step Recovery Program at AA
is the lack of leadership roles. The inmates are running the asylum!
Elected servant-leaders run the meetings for limited terms while
following the adage “principles above personalities.”
As expertly quoted in the Twelve Traditions of the AA Big Book,
“For our group purpose, there is but one ultimate authority—a loving
God as He may express Himself in our group conscience. Our leaders
are but trusted servants; they do not govern.”
What if modern religion was like that? (Or politics, for that
matter!) Leaders as trusted servants. We no longer need people with
funny hats (whose only historical “expertise” was knowing how to
read when most of the population didn’t) to interpret the holy
writings for us. What if no member of this faith had more power or
authority than any other member? What if, like at an AA meeting,
there were regular, democratic elections, where a rotating staff of
elected folks helped to serve the needs of the community… and
nothing else?
When I ponder the unconscionable acts committed by so many of
the world’s clergy, the violence encouraged by many clerics against
those not of their faith, it feels like we all need a break. Therefore, at
SoulBoom, we hereby designate all laypeople with the responsibility
of growing and running this grassroots spiritual movement! A faith
where everyone’s interpretation of the holy writings is valid and
worthy of consideration and consultation.
And we can collectively oversee the kitchen chores at our meeting
hall, the fundraiser planning, and the scheduling of park cleanup
volunteers.
12. Diversity plus harmony. Goes without saying (though we already
kind of said it in describing the SoulBoom community) that this is a
faith open to all. All are embraced, included, and welcomed with
loving, open arms and a spirit of light.
All races. All classes. All genders. All sexual orientations. All
identities. All creeds. All languages. All cultures.
Sound too idealistic? It is… and it isn’t. In truth, diversity is how
our world naturally thrives. Consider agriculture. What we’ve learned
after hundreds of years of commercial agricultural practice is that a
lack of crop diversity depletes and drains our precious topsoil of all
its essential nutrients. Crops become harder to grow. Yields decline.
The earth itself becomes less fertile. I mean, you saw all that corn
dying in Interstellar, right?
The solution? Regenerative agriculture, an emerging farming
practice that seeks to plant a variety of crops and plants in a single
field—some for harvest, others simply to provide green matter to the
soil. The results? Dramatic improvements in soil biodiversity that
reverses the damaging, draining effects of single-crop planting.
SoulBoom is our field, and the diversity of our community is what
will strengthen and reverse the damage our current divisions are
causing.
This central garden image from the Baha’i writings encapsulates
this idea quite beautifully:
How unpleasing to the eye if all the flowers and plants, the leaves
and blossoms, the fruits, the branches and the trees of that garden
were all of the same shape and colour! Diversity of hues, form
and shape, enricheth and adorneth the garden, and heighteneth the
effect thereof. In like manner, when diverse shades of thought,
temperament, and character are brought together under the power
and influence of one central agency, the beauty and glory of
human perfection will be revealed and made manifest.
—‘Abdu’l-Baha
One more thing. While our fundamental POV on all this diversity
is that it is to be honored, savored, and celebrated, diversity should
not come at the expense of recognizing our inherent commonalities,
the qualities that unite us. Today, so much of society is laser-focused
on self-identification—these are my pronouns, my ethnicity, my
background, how I affiliate. Which is crucial when there has been a
long, dismissive, and often violent history of oppression against
nondominant groups. But simultaneously, we are also members of
one human species who all love, play, create, grieve, and seek
belonging. We are all spiritual beings having a human experience.
Our inherent and shared humanity, our divine souls, our inherent
goodness—these are the things we should see first when we look at
our fellow SoulBoomers.
13. Centrality of the divine feminine. To quote one of the world’s great
philosophers, Ariana Grande, “When all is said and done / You’ll
believe God is a woman.”
The journey of many of the world’s oldest spiritual practices has
been to move from a reverence for the matriarchal/feminine to a
rejection of the mother/earth/womb mythology. Indeed, modern
religion embraces the stricter, more controlling patriarchal father.
When God Was a Woman is a seminal book written in 1976 by the
historian Merlin Stone. In her research about Paleolithic societies,
she writes, “Development of the religion of the female deity in this
area was intertwined with the earliest beginnings of religion so far
discovered anywhere on earth.” She states that their goddesses were
“creator and law-maker of the universe, prophetess, provider of
human destinies, inventor, healer, hunter, and valiant leader in
battle.”
Then, around 1500 BC, the tide turned away from worship of the
female deity and became patriarchal. Priest, king, and eventually
Father/God took the place of the divine feminine, often in ways that
obliterated the previous mythologies. And historians tell us that the
role, rights, and status of women declined greatly over this time
period as well.
Well, we at SoulBoom want to course correct this backward-ass
way of thinking. We need to rehonor the woman/divine feminine in
our construction of the faith of the future.
We are not naive. We know this will take an incredible amount of
work. The patriarchal narrative of our culture is so deeply engrained
in our psyches that it will likely take decades to undo. In Cassandra
Speaks: When Women Are the Storytellers, the Human Story
Changes, author Elizabeth Lesser asks the question, What if women
had been our storytellers? What story would Eve have told about
picking the apple? Why is Pandora blamed for opening the box?
Lesser reframes these stories from the perspective of the woman as
the central narrator. And reading them is a dramatic and drastic
departure from the stories we know—one that challenges the core of
how you see the world.
So for this ideal to work, we propose starting with something
tangible—women’s rights in the modern world. In our fabricated
faith, women will be, without exception, accorded every single right,
honor, and benefit that men have. More, perhaps. The voices of
women and girls should be given priority in public discourse. They
should get equal pay and greater protections under the law, and their
role as mothers should be sanctified. Plus, if resources are limited,
women should be the first to be offered access to education,
opportunity, and advancement.
We’re with you, Ariana.
14. Cooperation between science and faith. If there’s one thing that
differentiates SoulBoom from the majority of mystical faiths of the
past, it is a core belief in the essential harmony between science and
religion.
Our universe is not singular; it is unified. A unified field of
physical and spiritual forces that shape and determine our lives.
Science is often seen as logical and objective and spirituality as
“airy-fairy” and subjective. However, it’s time to rectify once and for
all this false dichotomy. As Louis Pasteur said, “A little science takes
you away from God but more of it takes you to Him.” Both are
methods of examining and interacting with the same reality.
We understand the physical world, its laws, operations, and
mysteries through the lens of science. Science is both a database of
knowledge and a system of learning about natural laws by using
repeatable experiments that reveal factual truth about those systems.
We at SoulBoom would argue the same is true of the spiritual
world. Spiritual guidance from the world’s great faith traditions and
from Indigenous belief systems allow us to understand the “why”
that exists beyond the “how” of science. If science leads us to create
an atomic bomb, religion shows us that peace is the ultimate goal. If
technology helped create tremendous advances in transportation,
energy, and construction, a wise, moral imperative tells us that the
resulting CO2 in the atmosphere will be devastating to our species
and thousands of others and must be limited for the good of our
descendents.
Humanity is clamoring for a unity between these two forces like
never before in its history, as the stakes simply could not be higher.
15. Profound connection to the natural world. I’ve written a bit,
mostly in general terms, about Indigenous spirituality and how,
throughout the world, native cultures have a deep connection to the
cycles, beauty, and mystery of nature.
Think of the power and mystery in the last words of Chief
Crowfoot, quoted in 1890: “What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in
the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little
shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.”
We have so much to learn from that poetic gem. We humans have
drastically lost touch with our living, sacred connection to nature in
this modern world. Our lack of direct access to and interaction with
our pulsing, living earth is, I believe, directly responsible for how
disconnected we have become from the real threat of man-made
climate change.
Neuroscientist Dr. Rachel Hopman of Northeastern University has
studied the neurological changes that happen to humans who have
regular exposure to the outdoors. Among the benefits are improved
neural functioning, enhanced cognition, and reduced stress and
anxiety. In fact, time in nature lights up the same parts of the brain as
regular meditation.
Hopman has gone so far as to propose a formula for time in nature
to maximize these benefits. Her “nature pyramid,” like the food
pyramid we all learned in elementary school, follows a 20-5-3 rule. It
goes like this.
To maximize the neurological benefits of nature, humans must
spend
• twenty minutes, three times a week outside doing something like
a light stroll in a neighborhood park;
• five hours per month in semiwild nature like a forested state
park; and
• three days once a year off the grid (the top of the pyramid!)—
camping, renting a cabin, being on a boat in the ocean—
surrounded only by wild animals and zero cell reception.
At SoulBoom, we believe in prioritizing access to and deep time in
nature as part of our faith’s inherent practices. Instead of gathering
inside of soul-sucking buildings, let’s sit together and pray by a
stream. Instead of putting Sunday school students under harsh
fluorescent lighting, let’s allow them free rein of a park for several
hours of the day. Choir practice at the beach! Mandatory nature
hikes! Let’s remind our souls of the vastness and fragility of this
beautiful planet—the only one we have—on a daily basis. And watch
as our individual stressors and anxieties are healed as well.
16. Centrality of justice. Today, the phrase “social justice” has become,
oddly enough, controversial. Same with “environmentalism” and
“women’s rights.” The manipulative forces of political and corporate
interests have framed the pursuit of justice and equity as something
with a partisan agenda attached to it.
And yet in Isaiah 1:17, it says, “Learn to do right; seek justice.
Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the
case of the widow.”
I mean, if that’s not a clarion call for social justice from the heart
of the Bible-thumping Bible, I don’t know what is!
In fact, there are dozens of quotes on justice and equity from the
Bible that are as relevant today as when they were written:
I John 3:17–18—“But if anyone has the world’s goods and sees his
brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s
love abide in him? Little children, let us not love in word or talk but
in deed and in truth.”
If humans dug deep into the clarion call of the book of John, we
would fight like hell to not allow injustice to exist anywhere.
At SoulBoom we believe justice is a precursor to lasting peace.
And without peace, there can’t be unity among humankind. Justice
first, and the rest will fall into place.
17. A life of service. We’ve already talked about service to the poor as
one of the ten fundamentals. But we want SoulBoom to take the
underlying concept of service and expand and apply it to every space
of our lives.
Is it possible to build a faith where every believer wants their life,
family, and career to be centered around doing good for others?
Being “other-centered” instead of “self-centered”? How do we
inspire people to ask themselves every day in their marriage, in their
friendships, in their workplace, How can I be of service today? And
even harder: How can we find ways to show kindness and service
toward people we dislike or have little in common with?
Because of my Baha’i identity, I have many Iranian friends. There
is a common trope (and many shared jokes) among these immigrant
families that their children are anxiously encouraged by their parents
to be doctors, lawyers, and engineers. No wonder, as they are
practical jobs that can easily land you an immediate and substantial
income as well as great prestige.
My dear immigrant friend Mr. Mogharabi, father of four adult
Mogharabi girls (one of whom, Shabnam, cofounded SoulPancake
with me), told me that the only advice he ever offered his daughters
about their careers was “to find a way to be of the most service to the
most people.” That single goal will bring you not only the most
fulfillment in your work but the most happiness as well. Now one
daughter works for the Environmental Protection Agency doing
communication to protect local air and water, one works for Verizon
to implement technology at underserved schools, one is an
elementary schoolteacher, and dear Shabnam makes uplifting video
content for millions of young folk.
This is backed up by a 2007 study from The Journals of
Gerontology that found that seniors in their seventies who reported
feeling “frequently useful” to friends, family, or neighbors were,
seven years later, 64 percent less likely to be dead and had better
health outcomes than those who responded they “never” felt useful.
Spiritual wisdom aligns with this:
Life’s most persistent and urgent question is, “What are you doing
for others?”
—Martin Luther King Jr.
Those are some pretty powerful words, all told. I love that dance
between “finding yourself” and “losing yourself” in service that
Gandhi speaks of. A little different from many of the modes of
finding oneself that are used in modern America. These quotes
provide a profound shift in perspective from three of humanity’s
greatest souls who put service to all—friends and enemies alike—at
the center of their life’s work. That’s what it will truly mean to be a
SoulBoomer.
18. Practical spiritual tools. I once gave a TEDx talk on spiritual life
hacks.
You know how the internet is full of memes, Instagram accounts,
and viral videos featuring “life hacks” to make your life better?
Things like: use the sticky edge of a Post-It note to clean the dust
between the keys of your keyboard! Or: freeze grapes and put them
in your white wine glass to chill your delicious wine beverage
without diluting it!
Simple. Easy. Practical.
And when you hear these life hacks, you go, “That’s brilliant! Why
didn’t I think of that before!?”
Well, I believe that SoulBoom needs to be filled chock-a-block
with spiritual teachings in that same vein: bite-sized pearls of
wisdom and guidance from all the ancient prophets, thinkers, and
philosophers that are practical, applicable, and make everyone’s life
better in tangible ways.
One of my favorites is from ‘Abdu’l-Baha. He said, “If a man has
ten good qualities and one bad one, to look at the ten and forget the
one; and if a man has ten bad qualities and one good one, to look at
the one and forget the ten” (italics mine).
This is the kind of spiritual life hack that resonates for me.
We are all surrounded every day by super challenging, annoying,
and difficult people. At the store. At school. At The Office. It can be
one of our greatest tests in life!
So how do we deal with these folks? Well, I try to harness the
words of ‘Abdu’l-Baha. If I’m with someone who has ten amazing
qualities but one super annoying one—perhaps, for instance, they are
kind, lovely, and compassionate but they constantly interrupt—why
do I consistently focus so much on the bad? Why do I let the nonstop
interrupting rankle me so much even if I really like the person overall
and can see their many other positive qualities? This is a pattern that
I can correct with a simple shift of focus on a daily basis.
The converse is even more challenging. We all know someone
who is rude, selfish, unkind, toxic. We do our best to avoid people
like this. But what if we tried instead to consciously find one good
quality about that person? For instance, what if they are a total jerk in
every way but have great hygiene and always smell like freshly
baked chocolate chip cookies? When I’m able to consciously focus
on the good quality of a person, not only is my day better but my
relationship with that person improves. And eventually, other good
qualities are revealed to me that I might not have taken the time to
see previously.
In other words, focus on the cookies. And don’t focus on the
negative.
Gandhi backs up this whole enterprise with his characteristic
humility: “I look only to the good qualities of men. Not being
faultless myself, I won’t presume to probe into the faults of others.”
The above is a practical, spiritually minded tool that increases my
quality of life. It’s something I can use every single day in my
interactions with workmates, challenging family members, and
neighbors. And it’s an example of how SoulBoom teachings need to
be grounded in the real world and have a “meat and potatoes” focus
on increasing well-being and quality of life.
19. Emphasis on music and arts. Every social revolution has the arts
front and center. Often driven by the energy and idealism of youth
and young adults. One simply cannot imagine the civil rights
movement, or the Vietnam war protests, or Black Lives Matter
without the arts and youth. Hand in hand.
And of all the art forms, there is simply no substitute for the joyful,
passionate energy generated by music. Music transcends language,
space, and time. It imprints itself on our brains and hearts. It’s why
seniors with dementia often can’t remember something as simple as
their own name but will sing all the lyrics to a favorite song after
hearing just a few notes.
Think of a roster of incredibly powerful songs that have helped
fuel movements old and new: “War” by Edwin Starr, “Ohio” by
Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, “Freedom” by Beyoncé, and “This Is
America” by Childish Gambino. Anything by Bob Marley. “The
Times They Are a-Changin’.”
The arts even saved the whales. True story.
In the ’60s, whale numbers were dwindling, with more than fifty
thousand whales being slaughtered around the world every year. The
ecology movement had only recently been launched, and
environmentalists, try as they might, couldn’t get the public to pay
attention to the imminent destruction of our largest, most beautiful
species. No one cared.
Meanwhile, a nerdy whale scientist named Roger Payne listened to
a military sonar recording of humpback whales “singing” and
became obsessed. He made more recordings and started spreading
them around fanatically. After he gave singer Judy Collins a copy,
she used the sounds on her album Whales and Nightingales. Payne
then released an entire album of these recordings called Songs of the
Humpback Whale. This album went on to become the best-selling
nature album of all time. National Geographic even sent out ten
million flexi-disc pressings of excerpts of the album to subscribers.
Greenpeace piggybacked off the album’s success to start its
famous “Save the Whales” campaign, and it started to blast whale
songs from giant speakers at whaling ships while they were
butchering the gorgeous, endangered creatures.
Over the course of the ’70s, public opinion around whales shifted,
in large part due to people hearing these plaintive, beautifully human
songs. Soon after, the International Whaling Commission put an
effective ban on whaling. Humpback whale populations increased
from less than one thousand to nearly eighty thousand currently.
All because of an album. Because some young artists,
environmentalists, and activists harnessed the power of art to create
change.
So how will our spiritual movement of SoulBoom tap into the
energy of revolutionary change at a grassroots level? By
incorporating arts (especially music) into its foundation and
empowering youth to use those arts for personal and societal
transformation.
20. Humility. And last but certainly not least, the SoulBoom faith admits
that it doesn’t know the best way to do anything.
We don’t have any absolute answers. We’re in a humble posture of
learning. We provide but a few markers, guideposts, and clues along
the winding path of the spiritual game of life.
A morsel of meaning. A soupçon of serenity. A kernel of the
eternal. And plenty of questions along the way.
As Richard Rohr, the wise Franciscan priest and philosopher, said,
“Healthy religion is always humble about its own holiness and
knowledge. It knows that it does not know. Anybody who really
knows also knows that they don’t know at all.”
Unlike most other faiths, we can’t guarantee to know the way to
certain salvation. We believe people who don’t follow the SoulBoom
path are just as likely to find some kind of spiritual enlightenment as
we are. We would never judge anyone else for the choices they make,
the God they worship or don’t worship, the practices or rituals they
undertake, or the confusion and struggles they might have along the
way. Bless us every one.
With that, we at SoulBoom submit that we would love to learn
from and collaborate with each and every one of you and each and
every one of your religious faiths and spiritual practices!
You can write us at Hello@SoulBoom.com with all your learnings,
experiences, and wisdom.
And just because, I offer one additional ideal:
There you have it, folks. The outline for a new religion that just might meet
some of the needs of folks in the modern world.
And we made it ourselves. Right here here of Soul Boom!
We covered the ten fundamentals of religion from the SoulBoom POV
as well as my ten (actually eleven!) SoulBoom-specific religious concepts
in the most cursory of ways, but it’s a start! We would probably need
another thirty-nine years to flesh things out and make our nascent religious
movement a bit more substantial.
But, dear reader, I blithely fabricate a religion on these here pages to
prove a point. Although SoulBoom the Religion will never exist, there are
some universal, foundational truths that religion addresses and that
humanity is longing for: purpose, community, devotion, transcendence, and
service.
Do you need an actual religion in your life in order to be connected to
some of these spiritual ideas? Of course not.
But as humanity has thrown the good of spirituality out with the bad of
religion, I think it’s time we look at all the ingredients that comprise the
spiritual bedrock of an organized faith with fresh eyes. Hopefully this is the
start of a much larger conversation.
One thing I’ve been pondering is whether our mythical SoulBoom
movement might need to have a presence in Jerusalem. Since real estate on
the Temple Mount is somewhat limited, perhaps we could rent a nearby
Airbnb? A big space, a big tent, so to speak, where all are welcome. No
clergy. A completely volunteer crew of diverse young folks. A handy-dandy
booth that points people to dozens of nearby service opportunities. Maybe
Bruce the tour guide is at the door handing out lemonade and halvah.
Star Wars and Star Trek are on a constant, harmonious loop on some
big-screen TVs. Whale songs and Bob Marley are playing in the
background. Local Muslims and Jews are playing Ping-Pong and chess
together in perfect harmony. Nature walks on the hour, perhaps. Basho
haiku reading nights.
A big sign over the front door with the word “HOPE!” on it.
And, of course, nonstop potlucks.
CHAPTER NINE
One of the most seminal and transformative events in human history was
the taking of a photograph. And it happened almost by accident.
The famous photo is called “The Blue Marble,” and it was taken by one
of the astronauts of Apollo 17. It was snapped in December 1972, during
NASA’s last manned lunar landing. One of the three astronauts,
spontaneously inspired by all that beauty, pointed a Hasselblad camera out
the window and snatched the first image of the entirety of Earth, illumined
completely by sunlight, surrounded by the dark, starlit immensity of space.
It was the first photograph that showed us our true home. All was
revealed. We are floating in outer space on a beautiful round, cloudy,
vibrant miracle, alone in the black vastness.
I remember seeing this iconic photograph when I was a child and
resonating with the power it held. It’s the most reproduced photograph of all
time, and like the whale songs, it was a necessary, beautiful testament to
something important and essential. It launched movements.
Environmentalists, educators, and peace activists would time and time again
showcase “The Blue Marble” as part of their mission, their vision. Wars
seem obsolete when gazing at the image. Pollution seems like a grotesque
crime. It sparked countless conversations, and that single image urged us
toward world unity in a way that little had done previously.
I’ve alluded to this before, but in the ’60s and ’70s, world peace seemed
possible, doable, buildable. We mock them now, but beauty contestants
used to wish for “world peace” when receiving their trophies. And they
sincerely meant it! Students in the ’70s would write reports on world peace.
Hippies would have probing conversations about it. Politicians would talk
about it with a straight face. The threat of the A-bomb hung over our heads,
and humanity longed for a way out of all those deadly wars of the twentieth
century, and WORLD PEACE was on the banner at the finish line. And
throughout all this, “The Blue Marble” hung in every classroom as a
testament to the possibility of peace and love on our beautiful little home.
Unfortunately, somewhere over the course of the next twenty years, that
lofty goal, urged on by a single photograph, faded away into a jaded haze of
cynicism and a core belief that humans will always be at war in some way,
shape, or form. Get used to it, buddy. We have come to collectively believe
that world peace was a pipe dream, only idealized by the naive, the foolish,
and the childish. It is pretty universally thought that countries will always
be armed to the teeth and deadlocked in a series of cold wars with proxy
battles around the globe. Humans will be humans, after all, and our warlike
nature will never change—at least that’s what the pragmatists, Marxists,
and postmodern moral relativists continue to trumpet.
As for me, what is evoked by that picture of a planet hanging in the
immensity of outer space? Well, and this may seem off-topic, but here’s
what that photograph makes me think of today: aliens!
Recently, the American government released previously classified
intelligence about the staggering amount of unidentified aerial phenomena
(UAPs, the new term for UFOs) that have been recorded, documented, and
verified over the last fifty years. And it is astonishing.
An incredible number of sober, conservative, eggheaded, career-military
pilots and scientists have now come forward, on the record, to describe their
interactions with UAPs. The sheer volume of credible photos and videos of
these flying objects makes denying them now as ludicrous as believing in
them was perceived to be forty years ago!
It is eminently clear that all those wackos who were talking about space
aliens back in the day weren’t the tinfoil hat nutjobs we all thought they
were. They were right!
So many questions arise. Are the ships operated by alien species? Or are
they future humans, time-traveling back to observe ourselves in our own
distant past? Are they some kind of threat? Galactic scientists?
Interdimensional explorers?
Here’s what I imagine is going on. And I can truly think of no other
plausible possibility:
Aliens are watching us, observing us. Many different species, which
explains all the different styles of ships—triangles, disks, and cigar-shaped
vessels. Starships from many different and diverse planets and even
galaxies. These aliens are actively viewing a fumbling, crazy, lovable, and
reprehensible species, potentially on the verge of wiping itself out.
So let’s put ourselves in their alien shoes (tentacles?) for a few pages.
What do we imagine the aliens are discussing at an alien council
meeting at their base on the dark side of the moon? I mean, they must be
communicating with each other, right? Probably in a fashion not entirely
dissimilar to the way Mork (played by the legendary Robin Williams)
would talk to Orson about humans at the end of every episode of yet
another great ’70s television show, Mork and Mindy. How might they be
processing what they are seeing on planet Earth? What would that
conversation sound like?
As a matter of fact, in one of my many unsuccessful offbeat
entertainment pitches, I once proposed a weekly part-scripted/part-
improvised podcast about aliens observing human customs, politics,
behavior, and society overall. These comedic characters would also end up
becoming huge consumers of human media, film, and TV and use them as
ongoing reference points.
So bear with me while I indulge that idea here on these pages. For your
reading pleasure, I commence with some possible dialogue between two of
these alien observers that we’ll call Scoobash and %*&^11+12:
SCOOBASH: Any update from your recent aerial flybys and media
monitoring on planet Earth, %*&^11+?
%*&^11+: Yes. We have triple confirmed that humans have full awareness
of the imminent and catastrophic dangers of climate change due to heat-
trapping gases that they are emitting from a variety of sources. There are
articles in all the major newspapers. Documentary films and television
specials as well as research papers from top scientists provide
undeniable, verified data. Discussions about the issue are happening in
the halls of their immature government gatherings. Occasionally, a little
Swedish girl attends these gatherings and yells at the officials, “How
dare you!”
SCOOBASH: And well she should! If they know about the disastrous
repercussions of unchecked CO2, nitrous oxide, and methane emissions,
as well as rampant deforestation, why are they doing nothing to stop it? I
mean, they must also know that they are at the point of no return.
%*&^11+: Well, they are bringing their own shopping bags to the
supermarkets.
SCOOBASH: What?!
%*&^11+: You know, because of the plastic… Never mind.
SCOOBASH: Again—what?!
%*&^11+: I believe humanity’s lack of response to the climate crisis is
explained within the pages of that book I sent you, The Lorax.
SCOOBASH: Loved!
%*&^11+: Classic, right? Just metaphorically substitute Truffula trees for
the Earth’s environment in toto. For decades a vocal, well-funded
minority denied climate change was even happening and funded a
massive disinformation campaign. Now that that phase is over, the new
tactic is downplaying the damaging effects of climate change and
extreme weather events. Many of this coterie chalk up all the “disaster
talk” to alarmist Chicken Little–ish doomsaying. But bottom line? They
complain about the expense of doing anything about it as implementing
green technology, reducing CO2, and transitioning to alternative energy
sources comes with a hefty price tag.
SCOOBASH: First question, what does “Chicken Little” refer to?
%*&^11+: Long story. I’ll send over the mediocre animated film starring
the voices of Zach Braff and Steve Zahn from 2005.
SCOOBASH: Ooooh, good casting! Also—the expense?! Does this species
understand the billions in overall expense that catastrophic flooding,
extreme storms, persistent droughts, and plant and animal extinction will
have? That this completely solvable problem will wreak havoc on world
economies over the coming decades?! And that time is of the essence!?
%*&^11+: Yup.
SCOOBASH: I’m confused.
%*&^11+: Well, this species is not very good at setting aside their
immediate wants and needs for the long-term good. They have no
collective vision for the future of their species or their planet.
SCOOBASH: What about Star Trek!?
%*&^11+: Great show. Every version of it! Not a huge Voyager guy, but it
has its supporters.
SCOOBASH: OK, but wait. Didn’t humankind just face one of their worst
viruses in history, pull together, create and distribute a vaccine in record
time, and save untold lives? Wouldn’t that example unite people?
%*&^11+: Ehhh… no. Because of partisan factionalism, no one thinks it’s
a triumph of collective action in the face of global disaster.
SCOOBASH: Wow. I… kind of can’t wrap my head around all these
contradictions.
%*&^11+: Neither can humanity! In fact, much of the world is still
governed by authoritarian states that only seem interested in aggressive
nationalism and militarism and invasions of neighbors. And the other
half, the “democratic” half, is locked in corruption, ennui, and selfish,
materialistic pursuits. They do have a collective council called the
United Nations, but it’s ineffectual and bureaucratic. It’s in a cool-
looking building, though.
SCOOBASH: Wait. They’re still at war or threatening and/or planning for
war? They’ve lost 108 million of their kind to armed conflict over the
last hundred years or so!
%*&^11+: I suppose I would refer you to the sequential illustrations I sent
of the bald-headed boy-child who is repeatedly tricked by a glowering,
assertive female into attempting to kick a football.
SCOOBASH: OK, war and climate catastrophe aside, what else have you been
observing for all these solar years? Give me the lowdown.
%*&^11+: Well, a haircut called the mullet just came into fashion again
for like the third time. Oh, and here’s a fun fact! There are eight people
on the planet who have as much wealth as half of the planet’s population.
SCOOBASH: Wait, what? Can you repeat that?
%*&^11+: Yes. Eight male humans in the last quarter of their lifespans are
worth 426 billion United States dollars. That’s as much as four billion of
the poorest human beings on the planet.
SCOOBASH: I’m sorry, I just don’t understand. I’m flummoxed. Why would
this be allowed? Why don’t they give away their money to the poorer
people? Why don’t the governments intervene? Why don’t the four
billion people just rise up and storm the houses of those eight male
humans?
%*&^11+: Woah, Scoob—let’s not get placed on a watchlist here, OK? It’s
just that many humans don’t believe in any economic action that might
be seen as potentially limiting “job creators” and “entrepreneurs.” But
there’s a bit more to it… Politics. Plus, racism.
SCOOBASH: What’s racism?
%*&^11+: Humans have different-colored pigments in their skin and have
self-sorted into “races,” socially constructed groups whose creation and
abuse has ultimately caused no end of oppression, injustice, and disunity.
Did you read that “Star-bellied Sneetches” book I sent you?”
SCOOBASH: So good!
%*&^11+: Well, it’s basically that.
SCOOBASH: Tell me, %*&^11+. Why should we not just leave these lunatics
to their own devices? Or simply blow up their planet for them?
%*&^11+: Scoobash, don’t say that! That would break all seventeen of my
hearts! These human beings, flawed as they are, are capable of such
good, such beauty. In addition to the work of their most famous doctor,
Seuss, the artistry of their various populations is staggering. They’ve
produced masterworks of music, literature, and architecture from every
corner of the globe. I mean, perhaps not Orlando, but—
SCOOBASH: OK, fine. Stick with it. Maybe they’ll get their fecal matter
together one of these days. Also, I’m enjoying this Game of Thrones
dragon prequel far more than I thought I would…
%*&^11+: I know, the former Time Lord and Prince Philip, now playing
that rakish Targaryen, is fantastic!
SCOOBASH: I mean, it’s not Star Trek: The Next Generation good.
%*&^11+: Nothing is, Scooby. Nothing is…
From this perspective, we are headed toward global unity one way or
another. Unity of humanity. Unity of class, creeds, nations, and cultures.
That’s the only way forward. It’s the only conceivable final result.
Remember, we all live on a blue marble floating in space. Whether we
almost destroy ourselves along the way or not is up to us, but the ultimate
outcome is a human species inhabiting a planet together in harmony. (Even
if there are only 147 of us left.) Much like humanity in Star Trek, we are
sometimes gradually, sometimes pell-mell and chaotically, headed toward
the creation of a global society that is just, balanced, wise, and
compassionate.
Antiglobalist fearmongers can doomsay all they want, but the eventual
movement toward a unified human family, sharing the resources of our
fragile planet and taking mutual care of each other, is what we need to strive
for, as naive and utopian as that may sound in these jaded times.
But before we get into all that “changing the world” stuff, there’s one
phrase from that previous quote by Shoghi Effendi that really pops out:
“strangely-disordered world.” And to me, those three words really sum up
what a spiritual revolution is all about.
Our world is strangely disordered. So much about how we do things, as
our alien friends earlier demonstrated, is upside down, backward, and inside
out. And things have to change if we want to achieve the mental, physical,
and spiritual wellness we long for on a personal and a global level.
One thing I’m struck by when I read the news is how “strangely
disordered,” how broken, ALL the modern organizational structures are. I
mean, what field of endeavor or area of business, society, or government is
not broken? Name an existing system, large or small, and chances are it’s
essentially out of whack at a fundamental level.
I’m going to spend the next few pages briefly describing some systems
that are gravely, strangely out of balance, most specifically in the United
States. Obviously, I don’t have the time, room, or expertise to go into detail
in these pages. I’m simply trying to set the scene to make a much larger
point.
Which means… yes, things will get a little dark, but we’ll get to some
uplifting solutions before too long. Promise!
Some “strange disorders,” in no particular order:
If you talk to a doctor, nurse, or a public health official, they will tell
you in endless detail all the ways our health care system in the United
States is fractured, unfair, dysfunctional, and unjust. And don’t get anyone
started on the complete lack of any kind of mental health care policy in our
country.
Direct evidence of this systemwide dysfunction can be seen in the opioid
epidemic, which continues to ravage the country and has taken half a
million lives in the last twenty years. This is due in large part to our broken,
corrupt health care system being so directly enmeshed with the broken,
corrupt pharmaceutical industry or “Big Pharma”—the five large global
companies that essentially control the entire pharmacological ecosystem.
Moving on.
If you speak to any teacher or school administrator, you will hear the
same thing about education. Underprioritized. Overcrowded. Dysfunctional.
Political corruption and union battles. A rapidly degrading system that is
funded based on local property tax values, so the poorest neighborhoods are
continually left behind.
And one can’t bring up schools without mentioning the epidemic of
school shootings.
Gun ownership and reasonable firearms regulation is another broken
system in our country. We have more than 120 guns for every 100 people in
the United States, and yet it’s harder for a teenager to get a driver’s license
than an AR15. While most Americans want commonsense gun registration
laws enacted, nothing changes as mass shootings continue unabated. The
debate has become entrenched and deadlocked, driven by partisanship and
funding from a massive gun lobby… all while children continue to get
gunned down in classrooms.
The criminal justice and prison system is another area that has grotesque
systemic imbalances and racist policies that haven’t been altered in a
hundred years. Mass incarceration of blacks and Latinos. A bail system that
criminalizes being poor.
And what about the foster care system?
Immigration policies?
Unaffordable and unsubsidized daycare and childcare?
The housing crisis and the unhoused population?
Modern university education, staggering tuition and student loans, and
the bizarrely insular world of American academia?
All struggling with brokenness in one form or another.
And don’t get me started on modern news media, corralling viewers
with incessant fearmongering and endless shouting matches. Opinion
journalism is regularly gussied up as factual news, while the whole “for-
profit” enterprise is entirely funded by one emotion: outrage. Outrage fuels
an ever-incensed viewership, brand loyalty, and click-throughs on websites.
Think about all the things off-kilter about agriculture that allows
massive government subsidies for gigantic corporate farms that “mono-
farm” single crops (usually corn and soybeans), saturating them with
fertilizers and pesticides that cause health issues and deplete the soil. Two
companies, Cargill and COFCO, own 40 percent of the global commercial
seeds. A huge amount of increasingly precious water is systematically
wasted.
Meanwhile, in “food deserts,” junk food is cheaper and more available
to the low-income consumer than fruits and vegetables, which fuels
diabetes and the obesity epidemic, which in turn overwhelms the health
care system. And we’re right back where we started.
Now on to my field: show business. A swamp rife with bloated, toxic
personalities and the relentless pursuit of who’s hot and who’s not. Star
fu%@ers, all. Youth obsessed. Millions wasted on vanity projects and
outrageous salaries. Ineffectual management of networks and studios by
inexperienced, arrogant executives who are driven by fear, anxiety, and
bloated egos that drive the creation of countless hours of mediocre content.
But maybe I’m a bit biased.
Chances are there are another few thousand fields of endeavor that for
those who work in them are just as flawed, dysfunctional, and fractured.
Fields as divergent as, oh, I don’t know… regional table tennis
competitions, international freight shipping, medieval archaeology, and the
traveling circus.
Now let’s turn our attention to the government. Ugh. The worst, right? I
mean, where do you start?
Gerrymandering. Super PACs and campaign finance. National debt.
Unchecked military spending ($800 billion in 2021). Social security. Pork-
barrel politics. Waste. Bureaucracy.
I’m going to bypass all these issues and go right to the mother of all
brokenness in our government: the partisan politics of the two-party
system.
Hundreds of books have been written on the history of political parties
in America, their ups and downs, when they actually worked, if they ever
actually worked, and the devolvement into the current morass of the last
half century. Not my area of expertise in the slightest. But it’s important to
shine a light on this particular apparatus for a moment because it is a
barometer and bellwether of most everything that is out of balance with
modern society.
Basically, I believe the toxicity of partisanship is one of the greatest
threats to our way of life, the future of our nation, and perhaps the fate of
the world. The reason it is so particularly pernicious today is because the
diseased roots of this adverserialist system go back over two hundred years.
Don’t believe me? Many of our beloved founding fathers are with me on
this.
But even if we did make several (or all!) of these changes, the system
would find some other way to eat itself from the inside out. Like so many of
the previous broken systems we examined, the entire way we elect public
officials needs to be completely reimagined. It can’t be fixed with Band-
Aids.
Here’s the crux of the matter: people so rarely think that partisanship
itself is broken, only that the opposing party is broken.
Picture partisan politics as a house being held up by two giant support
beams. Both have termites, black mold, and water damage. No amount of
repairing windows or appliances or floorboards or shingles will make the
rot underneath go away. And if you add a third (or fourth or fifth) beam, the
rot will only spread, and we’ll find ourselves in the same situation.
Why? Because the entire foundation is constructed on a faulty,
unsustainable premise. This imaginary house we’re discussing, the partisan
political system, is based on the proposition that winning, no matter what, is
the ultimate goal. And that these win-at-all-costs goals are best achieved by
competition, contest, one-upmanship, power, control, backstabbing, bluster,
rivalry, domination, aggression, contention, and, most importantly, money.
Lots and lots and lots of money.
We need an altogether new foundation. A solid and balanced one. One
held up by cooperation, unity, humility, and selfless service. A foundation
where the goal is the maximum good for all, especially those who have
been traditionally left out. Building that foundation is where the real work
lies.
I know, I know. Naive. Unrealistic. Unobtainable. (Insert collective
eyeroll here.)
“How do we get there, idiot?” you might be asking at this juncture.
Well, that’s kind of the point of this book. And besides, it’s about time
we got to the whole revolution part, isn’t it?
Yes, it most certainly is. And remember—the reason I paint so bleak a
picture is to remind us all of how high the stakes are. What we’re up
against. And if we’re going to have a rebellion, even a spiritual one, don’t
we need to understand what it is that we’re rebelling against?
Remember, we’re collectively hitching our wagons to the unifying
forces of integration and witnessing, confronting, and overcoming those
dastardly forces of disintegration.
Before we get to the revolution itself, let’s recap our journey thus far and set
us up for the final chapter.
We talked about (well, I talked about) how we’re on a spiritual journey
on both an individual and a collective level, part Kung Fu and part Star
Trek. How our personal path is crucial, but we must also consider a larger
soul-vision for our planet, our species: humanity’s transition out of its
raging adolescence and toward its inevitable maturity.
We did a fairly extensive tour of a lot of the obstacles that lie before us. I
described these issues as problems so all-encompassing that they really
should be thought of as pandemics. In this chapter, I companioned those
pandemics with a glimpse into the many broken systems around us.
Systems built on old assumptions and unsustainable conflict, greed,
opposition, and self-interest.
Waxing mystical for a few chapters, we delved into some of the deepest
possible human topics and their spiritual reverberations, like death, atheism,
religion, consciousness, the sacred, and the grandaddy of all grandaddies,
God.
We explored the idea that “men die miserably every day” for lack of
what is found in the holy writings of the great spiritual traditions. I
proposed that many of the spiritual themes and practices that we take for
granted may require a deeper examination and redefinition. Words like
“God,” “religion,” “faith,” “soul,” “sacred,” and “pilgrimage.” I even strove
to bring us back to some occasional kernels of Indigenous wisdom to put
things into perspective.
I spent several chapters excavating the idea of “religion” because, for all
the destruction they have perpetrated on our planet, I believe faiths serve a
purpose. So much of what religion can provide is what we’re going to need
in order to affect a true paradigm shift.
We even got to create a super-cool new religion, SoulBoom™, based on
those foundational concepts and some other groundbreaking ideas for a
grassroots religious movement!
Why did we cover all this? Because all these big spiritual ideas that
make up the majority of this book are often waylaid by folks’ general
distaste for religion itself. We’ve thrown the spiritual baby out with the
religious bathwater and in doing so have lost access to a treasure trove of
wisdom and perspective that might truly aid our maturation.
I believe that only by recognizing that we are, in fact, spiritual beings
having a collective human experience will we be open to the kinds of soul-
level transformations we’re going to need to make—the spiritual revolution
that this book promises. A revolution that is urgent and necessary in the
healing of our beautiful but broken blue marble. And remember, the
ultimate aim of this endeavor is my grand attempt to advance a
conversation about the importance of the divine dimension of existence and
how it can influence our lives and our futures, collectively and individually.
So there you have it. The pot has been stirred. Discussions had.
Questions raised. Perspectives shifted. Countless opinions blathered on
about by the author. Topics both profound and mundane have been sifted
through. And to continue the cooking metaphor, hopefully enough spiritual
ingredients have been added to the SoulBoom stew for us to open our
hearts, minds, and tastebuds to what is next.
Because it’s time for a spiritual revolution.
Footnotes
12 Pronounced Percentasteriskampersandcaretelevenplus, or Percy for short.
13 Note: I’m focusing very specifically on the United States in this little exploration. But the
problems of partisan politics, polarization, and corruption are global ones, with the effects being seen
in “democratic” governments everywhere, from the United Kingdom to India to Brazil.
CHAPTER TEN
When I was a teenager, I had to buy my own car, and as I had no money, if I
wanted it to run, I had to learn how to fix it. I was nineteen and working full
time driving a delivery truck for Ballard Marine Supply and Hardware and
attending the University of Washington on the side, and I bought an old
Volvo for $400. It was a dilapidated piece of junk. But thankfully, it was a
hardy piece of junk. I affectionately called this car “The Newt,” after the
burning of the witch scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. The
Newt’s claim to fame was that I could pull the stick shift up and out of the
transmission while driving, which would create a large hole that you could
peer down into and see the pavement whooshing along about a foot and a
half underneath the car floor. Occasionally, I would take a girl out on a date
and, while driving, pull the shifter lever thingy out and let out a panicked
scream as if I had lost control of the car before sticking it back in again.
This never went over terribly well, but I continued doing it because it made
me laugh and, unfortunately, that’s just the kind of person I am.
Over the course of my year with the Newt, I personally changed the
starter and the muffler and the brakes and calipers and the battery and the
tires and routinely changed my own oil and filters. I got to know and annoy
the guys at the local auto parts shop as I would pepper them with questions.
I would love to say that all this effort and sweat set me up with a valuable
set of life skills, but mostly it was just a colossal pain in the ass. I did learn
something quite interesting about cars over that long, impoverished year,
however.
A car, at its simplest, is a metal contraption with an internal combustion
engine that transports passengers on four wheels. At its most complex, it’s a
series of interconnected systems all working together to power a moving
vehicle. The number of structures that need to work in harmony are various
and many. Besides its body and drive train, every car has an electrical
system, a transmission, a fuel system, an ignition, and an exhaust system.
And when something is not working, you look under the hood or crawl
underneath or, if you have a real-life automotive garage, you put it up on
the lift and take a look in order to try and determine which of these systems
is not functioning correctly.
We can do the same kind of examination for the web of integrated
systems that allow human society to operate.
Continuing with this terrible analogy, if we put the car of humanity up
on a lift and take a look around at what’s not working, what would we
diagnose? Instead of transmission and brakes, we examine health care and
education. Instead of exhaust and air conditioning, we shine our headlamps
onto international trade, human rights, or agriculture. Is it one or two
systems that are out of whack, or is something more pervasive going on?
As we discussed in the previous chapter, it seems that practically every
single societal structure has some serious irregularities and design flaws,
and most importantly, the systems don’t work together in harmony the way
they’re supposed to.
Before I give my personal SoulBoom diagnosis of what’s wrong with
the car of humanity (ugh, I truly hate this analogy), let’s take a long look
forward to where we want to go.
A new model that makes the existing model obsolete? Easier said than
done, right?
Unfortunately, I, a mere actor, do not have the skill set to present on
these few remaining pages an action plan that is thorough and expansive
enough to inspire all of humanity to reorganize itself around spiritual
principles. For that I apologize. I do, however, wish to leave you with a
series of key concepts and action items that I believe will be crucial in
igniting a transformation. “Seven Pillars,” if you will, on which to
potentially build this movement, or to at least give us a head start. It’s an
eclectic group of ideas that is, like the rest of the book, here to shake things
up a little and inspire a deeper conversation. They are:
I studied acting for a time with the great theater director and philosopher
André Gregory. He was the subject of the amazing art film My Dinner with
André.
He would have tea occasionally with his students, and as I was finishing
a cup with him one day and getting ready to leave his beautiful West Village
apartment, I turned to him and said something to the effect of, “Mr.
Gregory, sometimes I just feel so bitter. So hopeless about the future. It’s so
hard to not be cynical.”
I’ll never forget what happened next. He grabbed me by the wrist,
pulled me closer, looked into my eyes with a ferocious intensity, and said,
“Don’t do it! Don’t give in to cynicism. If you do, they’ll have won. They
want you to be cynical because then nothing will ever change. You must
keep hope alive. Keep going. Promise me you won’t give in!”
I nodded, a bit overwhelmed, and stepped out onto the cobblestone
street, seeing the world in an ever so slightly different way. I’ll never forget
that interaction for as long as I live.
And as I write this, I realize that not only was André Gregory spot-on,
but there was most probably a pandemic I left off my list in Chapter 2:
cynicism.
We’re all so cynical, so bitter, so pessimistic these days. Myself
included. I struggle every day to “not give in.” And the more cynical we
get, the more nothing gets done because, well, “what’s the point!?”
This particular pandemic is insidious because we don’t realize we’re
suffering from it. Especially the youth. To what extent is this wet blanket of
hopelessness contributing to the deadly, overwhelming mental health
epidemic they are suffering from?
David Brooks in The Second Mountain says, brilliantly, “Our society has
become a conspiracy against joy. It has put too much emphasis on the
individuating part of our consciousness—individual reason—and too little
emphasis on the bonding parts of our consciousness, the heart and soul.”
I think Mr. Brooks and Mr. Gregory are on to something with this idea
of a conspiracy against joy. The forces that control and shape our world
(and no, I’m not talking about some conspiracy about a cabal of the super
wealthy, smoking cigars in boardrooms or in Davos, Switzerland) want
things to stay the same so that they can continue to profit from the world
staying exactly the way it is. How could we ever “build a new model that
makes the old model obsolete” if we believe in our heart of hearts that
things will never change, that they will always stay in the same messed-up
mode?
So what is the remedy? I propose that the opposite of cynicism isn’t
optimism. The opposite of cynicism is joy!
Why? Well, optimism has a kind of inherent clueless “look on the bright
side” sheen to it. And recent research in the field of positive psychology
tells us that there is such a thing as “toxic positivity,” where one can feel
externally pressured to “be positive” at all times in a way that is insensitive
to the difficulties that might surround a person. By urging people in a
blanket way to always keep a positive mindset, we disregard the complexity
and darkness of being human. This generalized positive attitude of
“optimism,” frequently propagated on social media, flattens out any
authentic experience and can cause shame in someone who is struggling to
process superficial platitudes like “keep your head up” and “turn that frown
upside down.”
Joy, however, inherently acknowledges sorrow. It doesn’t disregard the
hard stuff. Joy knows that negativity is a part of life as well. Joy says that
life is hard but there is a place you can go, a tool you can use. Joy is a force.
A choice. Something that can be harnessed. A decision to be made.
Even if one is “not feeling it” in one’s heart, one can spread joy to
others. ‘Abdu’l-Baha gives us one of my all-time favorite quotes about joy:
“Joy gives us wings! In times of joy our strength is more vital, our intellect
keener, and our understanding less clouded. We seem better able to cope
with the world and to find our sphere of usefulness.”
In other words, joy is a superpower! It gives us strength, clarity, and
resilience, and it helps us find our path, especially in helping others.
I completely identify with what ‘Abdu’l-Baha is saying. As someone
who has struggled with depression and anxiety my entire life, I find truth in
his observation: those occasions when I feel more joyful, I’m more focused,
productive, and open to new experiences, and my mind and heart work in
far greater harmony.
Now, this is not a chapter on how to find joy. There are plenty of those
works out there. (In fact, Archbishop Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama
have an inspiring treatise called The Book of Joy!)
There are also about three gazillion books on happiness—how to find it,
achieve it, and hold on to it. I don’t have the space to explore this topic
here, I’m afraid. But I will add another tremendous quote attributed to
‘Abdu’l-Baha: “If you are so angry, so depressed and so sore that your spirit
cannot find deliverance and peace even in prayer, then quickly go and give
some pleasure to someone lowly or sorrowful, or to a guilty or innocent
sufferer! Sacrifice yourself, your talent, your time, your rest to another, to
one who has to bear a heavier load than you.”
I just love the message contained in this profoundly spiritual and utterly
practical teaching. Essentially, if you’re feeling down, give happiness and
comfort to someone who has it worse than you do! The spreading of joy, in
other words, has a positive impact on one’s own emotional state.
This is what is referred to as “prosocial” behavior, and its efficacy has
been backed up by innumerable studies in the field of positive psychology.
Those who engage in altruistic behaviors have a greater sense of well-being
than those who don’t. Yet another example of where science and spirituality
coalesce.
Joy is a depleted resource these days. As is hope, the thing with feathers.
In a world with so much discord and disunity, how do we nurture them?
The international governing council of the Baha’i Faith (the Universal
House of Justice) underlined a terrific way for all of us to move forward in
a letter they wrote in 2020.
They challenged Baha’is and others around the world to “discover that
precious point of unity where contrasting perspectives overlap and around
which contending peoples can coalesce.”
This idea is both important and inspiring. Finding a precious point of
unity as a path to finding hope.
I remember speaking with the brilliant climate activist Callum Grieves,
who works with Greta Thunberg as well as other youth activists, and he told
me essentially the same thing. He was speaking about his work on climate
change and told me of the “clean air” initiatives he had worked on. He said
that people’s opinions about climate change may differ in countless ways
depending on their political point of view, but something like “clean air” is
something that folks on all sides of the political spectrum can get behind. It
doesn’t matter if you think that climate change is some kind of liberal hoax
or the greatest possible threat to our future, everyone wants cleaner air for
their children and grandchildren. It’s the “precious point of unity” at the
center of the climate conversation. And guess what? Cleaner air means less
CO2 and other emissions that cause climate change. So win-win all around!
The author Alexandra Rowland made quite a splash a few years ago
when she introduced a concept for an entirely new genre of fiction. In
response to the unwaveringly dark works of fantasies like Game of Thrones
and the hundreds of despairing dystopian novels, films, and TV shows
churned out each year, which are sometimes referred to as “grimdark,” she
coined the term for the opposite: “hopepunk.” Works of fiction in which a
vulnerable and human protagonist fights against an unjust system and seeks
to bring meaning, balance, and, yes, hope to the world.
She is quoted as saying, “Hopepunk says that genuinely and sincerely
caring about something, anything, requires bravery and strength. Hopepunk
isn’t ever about submission or acceptance: It’s about standing up and
fighting for what you believe in. It’s about standing up for other people. It’s
about demanding a better, kinder world, and truly believing that we can get
there if we care about each other as hard as we possibly can, with every
drop of power in our little hearts.”
Although hopepunk’s manifesto was built around the field of imaginary
and speculative fiction, I envision the message and moniker spreading to
ever-wider pastures as we collectively demand a better, kinder world. As we
don’t shrug and retreat under the toxic wet blanket of pessimism and
hopelessness.
Sign me up! Let’s weave hopepunk into the altogether new myth and
story of our species.
And the better, kinder world that she speaks of is only possible if we
rethink all those broken systems and start replacing them one by one.
VIRTUOUS EDUCATION
Here are some of the things I learned in school: how to be an effective
crossing guard; how to make a paper snowflake; how to write in cursive;
how to find a book using the Dewey decimal system; how to square dance;
how to make finger puppets, dioramas, and pretty much anything from
paper mâché; how to recite the state capitals, lists of presidents, and obscure
facts about Washington state history; and—believe it or not, because this
was the 1970s—how to properly dive under your desk in case of a nuclear
attack.
Here’s how many of those I put into use in any kind of regular way: the
nuclear desk one.
Other than that? Mostly useless.
Now, I understand that education is a complicated thing. Many assigned
tasks—learning the periodic table or trigonometry, for instance—that we
may not use very much in our daily lives have tremendous value because
the act of learning them does wonders for the growth of our rapidly
developing brains.
But perhaps, just perhaps, we are doing some essential things
completely wrong when it comes to education. Because when you ask
people what they wish they had been taught in school, the lists are
illuminating.
Here are a few topics that top various lists:
RADICAL COMPASSION
Infamous movie critic and cinema legend Roger Ebert once labeled films
“empathy machines.” In the stories we see on the screen, we see ourselves
reflected right back at us. We’re allowed to walk in another person’s shoes
for about 112 minutes and experience the world the way they do. In the best
examples, we’re allowed to take in the reality of what it’s like to be in
captivity in 12 Years a Slave, or to be someone with facial abnormalities as
in Mask or Wonder, or to be caught in the middle of a Jewish pogrom in
stories as diverse in tone as Fiddler on the Roof and Schindler’s List. Or,
occasionally, to see the world as a frequently misunderstood, wildly
attractive paper salesman/beet farmer.
But is film really an empathy machine? Does it work as one? Have we
become more emotionally attuned to others over the last one hundred and
some years since film was invented? We certainly know what it’s like to be
Michael Corleone or Forrest Gump or what choices we would have made in
a Squid Game, but have we viewers changed our behavior in any way
because of the insights film has given us into the consciousness, emotional
and otherwise, of people who are different from us?
In a similar vein, virtual reality was supposed to bring about the advent
of greater cognitive and emotional empathy. In fact, in France they recently
did a trial use of virtual reality with men who were perpetrators of domestic
abuse to try and increase their emotional understanding of what it might
feel like to be a victim in those situations. They put the men right in the
middle of a violent domestic conflict, but from the point of view of the
woman or child. In 3D vision and surround sound. The results, from what I
could determine, were inconclusive, but the idea is fascinating and has a
great deal of potential.
I want to take this idea further than film and VR. What if we humans
were able to build ourselves the ultimate compassion machine? Imagine if
part of one’s educational experience was an emotional empathy training
program that involved an immersive experience of witnessing the life or
consciousness of someone quite different from you vis-à-vis some kind of
virtual device. An experience greater than a movie and even more effective
than VR that fed directly into the sensory and feeling areas of your brain.
Maybe it would require wires on your skull, perhaps it would be like sliding
into an MRI tube filled with monitors, I’ll let your imagination come up
with the technology, but the result would be to experience the emotional life
of another human in such a way that we physiologically and
psychologically undergo the reality of their suffering and want to alleviate
it.
And imagine if, as part of our educational journey, we were required to
spend many hours in this Compassion Machine™, relating to dozens of
different subjects all around the planet. People who are incredibly different
from us. A queer kid getting bullied on a playground and crying around a
corner, wiping their bloody nose. A Haitian laborer traveling to the Florida
Keys on a makeshift raft in the noonday sun, longing to see his children
back home. A woman giving birth in Sudan with no water anywhere
around. A Ukrainian soldier who had lost his entire family, shivering in a
trench, waiting for artillery to land. A scared child singing a song while
hunting boar for the very first time in a remote jungle somewhere.
(You know what? Now that I think about it, this whole endeavor I
describe could make a terrific sci-fi film!)
Imagine if, through this systematic, deeply virtual educational
technology, humans were able to fundamentally conjoin with experiences
outside of the normal ken of our daily lives and the lives of our local “tribe”
and consequently emotionally mature. What if humanity, through this
method, took a gigantic leap toward world peace with the help of our
Compassion Machine? We would eventually get to a point where we simply
could not stand to allow the suffering of any of our fellow human brothers
and sisters.
Good news. We already have this machine! Each and every one of us.
And guess what, at risk of being totally corny… it’s called the human heart.
If we train this pulsating muscle, use it more frequently, focus on it, harness
its power, we can join in a very similar precious and profound union with
someone less fortunate than us. Someone a world away.
Now you might notice that I’ve specifically been using the word
“compassion” and not “empathy” or some other words that might seem to
mean the same thing. Let’s explore.
The Harvard Business Review’s “Potential Project” actually published a
breakdown of the words we use to describe our understanding of another
person’s experience. In a rough way, it’s like this:
If the Notorious G.O.D. is able to hold us in His gaze, in the palm of His
hand (metaphorically), with nothing but utter love and forgiveness, my hope
is that this is something we can emulate one to another right here on old
planet Earth.
And why “radical” compassion? Because regular old compassion just
ain’t cutting it. We must expand the number of people we are able to deeply
“feel with” and want to help, as well as increase the depth of the feeling
itself. Until, finally, the intensity of that feeling, like water bursting through
a dam, leads to real transformative action.
Regular compassion pauses at the point of empathy, while radical
compassion demands action. And finally, seeking to relieve other people’s
suffering ultimately requires the pursuit of justice.
“The best beloved of all things in My sight is justice,” writes
Baha’u’llah. “Turn not away therefrom if thou desirest me.”
The Dalai Lama is the living embodiment of this concept. He has a daily
practice of compassion for the Chinese invaders who killed one million of
his fellow Tibetans during their annexation of the territory, while at the
same time forcing many of the residents to become atheist, to burn holy
books and renounce their elders.
He says it perfectly: “Real compassion comes from seeing the suffering
of others. You feel a sense of responsibility, and you want to do something
for them.”
And finally, his holiness sums the whole thing right up when he says, “If
you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy,
practice compassion” (italics mine).
Science confirms this wisdom to be true. In a study of one thousand
people over seven years reported in the Journal of Translational
Psychology, researchers found that higher levels of compassion toward
others (versus toward self) predicted statistically better physical and mental
health outcomes in nine out of ten adults.
As a matter of fact, Matthieu Ricard, a seventy-six-year-old Tibetan
Buddhist monk, has been called the happiest man in the world. Why?
Because during brain scans his happiness levels were off the charts and
broke every previous record. And what was he doing when he achieved the
highest recorded level of happiness? Why, a meditation that focuses on
compassion for all of humanity, of course.
And there’s the payoff. All this radical compassion for others, and the
actions we then undertake, comes right back around and helps us with our
own sense of inner bliss. A vitally needed source of individual and personal
rocket fuel that can help kindle and sustain our desperately needed spiritual
revolution.
And there you have it, a compendium of some concepts we might draw on
for our global, transformative revolution. Some spiritual solutions for some
spiritual problems. Pillars to build on. As I said, we’re really going to need
a few dozen more of these that have been fleshed out to a far greater extent
and to a far more exacting degree, but it’s a start.
Because when I examine under the hood of the car of humanity, what I
find is…
Dammit!
I just can’t do it anymore. I need to find a better analogy.
(Pauses.)
OK, found one.
But you’re going to need to read the conclusion to find out what it is.
IN CONCLUSION
“In Conclusion”? Are you kidding me?! It’s impossible to have some kind
of “conclusion” to this Soul Boom thingamajig. There’s no conceivable way
to wrap up with a tidy little summary the topics we’ve been tossing about,
mulling over, and digging around in for almost 254 pages. I mean, give me
a break!
As proof of this, I offer a brief recap. We dove into God and ’70s TV
shows. Together, we tackled the entirety of religion and even tried to build a
new, amazing one along the way! We explored all things profound:
Consciousness! The sacred and the profane! The existential need for poetry!
We dug into the spiritual phenomenon of death and what aliens might be
saying about our civilization. And to top it all off, we examined global
pandemics, diagnosed most everything that is broken about contemporary
society, and laid out seven foundational concepts for a spiritual revolution!
There is simply no way on the Notorious G.O.D.’s green earth that I will
be able to sum up the epic, rambling, sometimes profound and sometimes
ridiculous conversation we’ve been engaged in.
But fine. I’ll try.
Your souls are as waves on the sea of the spirit; although each
individual is a distinct wave, the ocean is one, all are united in God.
… We must not consider the separate waves alone, but the entire sea.
We should rise from the individual to the whole.
—‘Abdu’l-Baha
As we rise from the individual to the whole, our fate can ultimately be a
hopeful one.
We are like Kwai Chang Caine, like Basho the poet, wandering the
earth, searching for the sacred, for meaning. Spiritual hopepunks on a
journey to build community at the grassroots. As we suffer difficult tests,
we draw upon that deep reservoir of wisdom from the world’s great faith
traditions. We know that the undefinable creative force that courses through
every star and every cell is there to guide us. To quote the narrator of the
Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, “We feel we are on the Broad
Highway, walking hand in hand with the Spirit of the Universe.”
This is the transformation that humanity is inevitably moving toward. A
profound understanding that we are all linked. More than linked—in fact,
we were never separated in the first place. We are interconnected like cells
in a single body, alive only in relation to one another, bound together, as the
poet Rumi describes, with the most powerful force in the universe:
I know, I know—acknowledgments are boring and they suck and they all
sound the same.
Too bad.
You’re going to need to read this because I literally could not have
written this book without a team of supporters, readers, editors, well-
wishers, and people far smarter than me.
Be nice; take two minutes and join me in thanking them, please.
First off, to my partner and most important reader, author Holiday
Reinhorn, who has the sharpest mind and biggest heart in the universe. I
know it sounds corny, but everything I am and do I owe to you.
I could not have written this book without the push, guidance, and
inspiration of the great Shabnam Mogharabi, a cofounder of SoulPancake
and a fierce and demanding reader, editor, and idea bouncer.
My uncle, Dr. Rhett Diessner, who gave me exquisite help and feedback
and a lot of love and laughter along the way.
Dr. Steven Phelps, who has a mind like no one else’s.
Dr. Varun Soni, who is hella wise.
Dr. Reza Aslan, who has a big brain and a bigger heart.
Dr. Michael Karlberg, whose writings opened my mind to a new way of
looking at the world. Thanks for sparking so many revolutionary ideas.
Phew, that’s a lot of doctors! Here’s a few more:
Dr. Todd Smith, Dr. Richard Atkinson, and Dr. Derik Smith for their
guidance, help, support, and expert notes.
David Langness, for all his incredible help on the chapter that I ended up
cutting. Sorry about that!
Aaron Lee, thank you as always.
Linda Kavelin-Popov, the virtues diva.
David Bentley Hart, everyone’s favorite theologian, for helping me open
my heart to the mystical Christian way of seeing the world. And God. Read
his books.
Ken Bowers, may the Notorious G.O.D. bless you.
Brant Rumble at Hachette, you’re a joy to work with and even nerdier
than me! So grateful you got what I was trying to do from the get-go and
guided me on the path.
My book agent, Richard Abate, who believed in this project before I did
and provided the vision for it to come to life.
My son, Walter Wilson, who genuinely makes me laugh more than
anyone else on the planet.
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Rainn Wilson is a three-time Emmy nominated actor best known for his
role as Dwight Schrute on NBC’s The Office. Besides his many other roles
on stage and screen, he is the co-founder of the media company
SoulPancake and host of Rainn Wilson and the Geography of Bliss on
Peacock. Rainn is the author of The Bassoon King: My Life in Art, Faith,
and Idiocy, as well as the coauthor of SoulPancake: Chew on Life’s Big
Questions, a New York Times bestseller. He lives in Oregon and California
with his family and a lot of animals.
Also by Rainn Wilson