To my friends, I might appear to be a bit of a curmudgeon. I feel that this is a well-deserved honorific by the time you are over sixty years old. In my heart, however, I am a peaceful, loving man. This misinterpretation of my actions has probably to do with the fact that I am relatively “straight forward.” In any given situation, I always look for the worst possible result to occur. It, of course, never does, but I am ready nonetheless.

I always believe that it is not the brief moments of joy that cripple a person but the extended periods of pain and tragedy. How you overcome the bottom, some damaging failure that holds you back or restricts your long-term success, is ultimately the “measure of you.” You must anticipate that things occur in life. “Life is fickle.” I still cannot get over the image of the clochards (1) living in the Paris subway. As a citizen of Mother Earth, it is your right to live a life of drunken non-existence, but why would you take this option? There are no easy answers. It could be mental illness: this then is an explainable case. In the vast majority of cases, however, I believe that it is simply lack of will to “get up and do it again.” I would not term this laziness, just spiritual fatigue.

I recently finished a book by Todd Henry entitled The Accidental Creative (ISBN: 978-1-59184-624-6). The book left me with two redeeming thoughts. Firstly: the graveyard is the richest real estate on the planet because it is filled with the wealth and the expectation of people who procrastinated and never attempted to achieve their dreams: hence they die and are buried with all their potentiality. Secondly: “die empty,” meaning that we should aspire to bring our “greatness” out into the world. Do not shirk from your mission: if you do, you will suffer the pangs of an unrequited life just before your demise. You put nothing in and you get nothing back.

In one of his talks, Mr. Henry mentions the great theologian and intellectual Fr. Thomas Merton (2). The monk believed that we should have a zest for life, but with a personal obligation, as well: “First of all, although men have a common destiny, each individual also has to work out his own personal salvation for himself in fear and trembling. We can help one another to find the meaning of life no doubt. But in the last analysis, the individual person is responsible for living his own life and for ‘finding himself.’ If he persists in shifting his responsibility to somebody else, he fails to find out the meaning of his own existence. You cannot tell me who I am and I cannot tell you who you are. If you do not know your own identity, who is going to identify you?” These are succinct words, even if they are a little cruel and harsh.

What this thus means is that you are then faced with the greatest adventure of all: the discovery of you. Here there is no room for cowardliness. Even though you are afraid and somewhat lost on the sea of life, you must still “set your sail.” You will perhaps not even know the direction of your voyage, but you must venture off nonetheless. In the cosmos all action is recognized. Yes it is true, the distant shore may be a disappointment and not to your liking. In spite of this, your odyssey has given you many meaningful tools and a wealth of positive results. You now are a good seafarer.

You know how to navigate a stormy sea and survive. You can overcome the many shoals that life always places in front of you: in short, you have matured. The major lesson here is that you have come to realize that joy and peace are not something external. They lie within you. This is true for all individuals. Action is critical: you must act. Like my previous example in Paris, however, you are free to choose to not be free, as illogical as it sounds.

Rumi (1207-1273), the great Persian scholar and Sufi mystic (3) leaves us with a thought: When I say to you, ‘You are lovely,’ you do not believe me, because of the blemishes you know so intimately; but those blemishes are the scars of your sufferings and they shine out of your soul, radiating beauty, the way the daisies do in the long summer grasses. So when I say to you, ‘even with closed eyes, I still see how beautiful you are,’ it is true. Believe it! Believe it! (Parts of this article were first published in December 2013.)

A closing thought: In Judeo-Christian culture, this is a traditional time of peace and reflection. As the New Year approaches, it behooves all of us to reflect on the magnificent gift that each of us has received – the gift of existence. It is also a time fraught with pain and suffering for the “poor and unwashed,” seemingly reaching a crescendo before the end of the year. This certainly fills all the lucky ones with gratitude and thankfulness. As a society, we must find a way to include the most disadvantaged in the Common Good for the benefit of all.

To sum up: This week, we spoke about finding our own inner peace.

A small joke: Two young, rather rambunctious brothers were told to go into the garden to play by their mother. For several moments all was quiet, and then there was the sound of screaming followed by the shatter of breaking glass. One young boy flushed with anger ran into the house. “What happened?” his mother inquired. He breathlessly explained that his sibling had broken a window. His mother incredulously demanded how this could have happened. “He made me very upset so I threw a rock at him and he ducked,” was the response.

Just for fun – Home for Christmas

This week, please reflect on your how you see your world.

Every day look for something magical and beautiful.

Quote: We now live in a world filled with artificial images. We are told how to look, how to think, how to act, etc. All solutions to life’s puzzles, however, can only be discovered through meditation and introspection: all truth lies within.

Footnotes:

1. A clochard is French for a homeless man.
2. Thomas Merton (1915 –1968) was an American Catholic writer and Trappist monk. He was a poet and social activist who wrote more than 70 books, mostly on spirituality, social justice and pacifism.
3. Rumi