Well now give me money
A lot of money
Wow, yeah, I wanna be free
Oh I want money
That's what I want
That's what I want, well
Now give me money
A lot of money
Wow, yeah, you need money
now, give me money
That's what I want, yeah
that's what I want
–“Money,” the Beatles
Let me tell you how it will be
There's one for you, nineteen for me
'Cause I'm the taxman, yeah, I'm the taxman
Should five per cent appear too small
Be thankful I don't take it all
'Cause I'm the taxman, yeah I'm the taxman
–“Taxman,” the Beatles
If you live in the US, then you know why I’m writing about money and taxes. April 15 is the day for filing federal and state tax returns. I can hear you groaning now. But this isn’t a post about taxes, or even about money really. It’s about...
Well, actually it’s about a lovely evening I spent recently in the company of several people from Haiti. One was one of my taekwondo instructors. His brother, a businessman, was also there. Three were martial artists visiting from Haiti to compete in championships. (One of those is the national champion of Haiti and will be competing in the Olympics.) And one was a refugee from the earthquake in Haiti two years ago, now living here in Oregon. We sat at a round table in a Vietnamese restaurant. French, Creole, and English languages whirled around along with the excellent food on the rotating tray in the center of the table.
Naturally, the conversation turned to the devastation of the earthquake in Haiti and the continuing desperate conditions in a country which was already among the poorest in the world. When I asked the visitors about their impressions of the US, what seemed most surprising to them, apart from the cold weather, was how selfish we are. They expressed it much more tactfully, but what they observed is that we are not always quick to share what we have.
In Haiti, people share naturally, generously, and frequently. It doesn’t matter how little you have; if someone needs something, you give it to them. They mentioned the example of phone minutes. In Haiti, pre-paid phone minutes are easily transferred from one phone to another. If someone needs minutes, someone else will simply send some over. Food, clothing, and other things are shared just as readily.
In times of crisis, I think Americans are like that. We are quick to offer aid within our own borders and elsewhere when disaster strikes. I like to think that I am generous. But then, I am blessed with abundance unknown in much of the world, unknown in much of my own country, for that matter. Oh, there are lots of people with more than I have, but by the reckoning of a friend who considers everything beyond her basic needs as wealth, I am wealthy indeed.
Why is it, then, that I sometimes get nervous about money? Not all the time. I generally live with financial confidence, but every now and then I feel a wave of uncertainty shift the sand under my feet and I start to fret. When John D. Rockefeller was asked how much more money he needed to be satisfied, he famously replied, “Just a little bit more.” As ridiculous as that sounds, considering his unprecedented wealth, sometimes I get it.
Where does that anxiety come from, that fear that however much I have might not be enough? I have more money now than I did when I was younger, but the fear comes and goes in the same way. I have to conclude that the fear is unrelated to a particular dollar amount and will not be soothed by any specific increase in my bank account.
Unlike sudden disasters, when the economy gets shaky, charitable giving goes down. Our tendency is to hold tighter to what we have, to circle the wagons with guns pointed outward, to bolt the doors, to look away from those in need. When the good times return, we give from our sense of abundance. What’s wrong with this picture?
Let me stop here and say that I am not pointing fingers or trying to make anyone feel guilty or stingy. What I am really trying to do here is express curiosity about my own relationship with money. Why am I the way I am and not more like people in Haiti, for example? I’m not suggesting that I should go sell everything I have, as Jesus advised the rich young man, but perhaps I am suggesting that I could be a better steward of the abundant resources I have been blessed with.
I could start by being more like the lilies of the field and give up worrying. How foolish I feel to worry when I am sitting in a house with indoor plumbing, full of food with a grocery store full of even more food just a few blocks away. I could keep my eyes and ears open for opportunities to share, to meet a need, to lend a hand, to offer comfort.
And yes, I could pay my taxes with a willing spirit. Warren Buffett says the tax code is unjust if it allows him to pay less taxes than his secretary. I’m not in his league, but I understand what he is saying. If I enjoy the benefits of living in a state and in a country that I love, and I do, then I should step up gratefully to pay my fair share. (Please note that I am speaking about a principle here, not the specifics of our politics or our tax system.)
He who knows enough is enough will always have enough. –Tao Te Ching
related post: Contentment: Priceless
[I might be away from my computer over the weekend. If there is a delay in publishing your comments, please know that they are valuable and valued.]
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Sunday, April 1, 2012
But I Do Want
The Lord is my shepherd
I shall not want
He makes me lie down in green pastures
He leads me beside still waters
He restores my soul
He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake
Even though I walk though the valley of death
I will fear no evil
For you are with me
Your rod and staff, they comfort me
You prepare a table for me in the presence of my enemies
You anoint my head with oil
My cup overflows
Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever
–Psalm 23
I went to church today with a heart in pain. I can’t quit thinking about the death of Trayvon Martin on February 26 in Florida. 17 year old Trayvon was walking home from a store with Skittles and iced tea when he was shot and killed by a self-appointed neighborhood watch captain armed with a handgun.
Last night I called a friend. She and I are the same age. We both grew up in Memphis. We remember segregated schools and the early years of integration. We remember the day Martin Luther King, Jr, was killed in our city. We remember his dream. But we are different. She is black and I’m white.
She grew up with three brothers and has a son and two grandsons. I asked her how her parents prepared her brothers to be young black men in the South, how she prepared her son, and how her daughters have prepared her grandsons. She told me that her brothers were taught to be careful about where they went, not to react if someone said something hurtful, not to stand up for themselves if someone accused them of something, not to fight back.
I don’t have a brother, but if I did have one, my mother would not have taught him those things. He would have felt free to go where he pleased, to respond to an insult, to defend himself against injustice. My mother would never have worried that if he went to a neighborhood store, he would be shot on the way home because he looked “suspicious.”
I look at my infant grandson and wonder what his parents will teach him. He is Chinese and African American. What will he need to know to be safe? Who will see him as “other”? Who will fear him or hate him because of his skin color? Who will want to do him harm?
When we sang the 23rd Psalm in church this morning, I could not sing the words “I shall not want.” On the contrary, I do want. I want my grandson to be safe. And your grandson. I want all children to be safe. Safe from violence and hatred and poverty and hunger and abuse and fear. Oh yes, I do want. Very much.
Being at church this morning felt wrong. I felt like a hypocrite. How could I be here when people, many of whom claim to be people of faith, my faith, do such terrible things to each other?
Then the minister stood to invite people to the table of communion, and his words answered my prayer. I wish I could remember them as eloquently as he spoke them, but here is the essence of what he said.
“You are welcome here. If you are a member of this church or visiting for the first time, you are welcome here. If you are a follower of Jesus or not sure who he was, you are welcome here. If you have deep faith in God or are full of questions, you are welcome here. If your life is going great or if your life is all messed up, you are welcome here. If you are repentant, unrepentant, or if you don’t even know what that means, you are welcome here. All are welcome at this table.”
That’s when all our children will be safe. Not when the table is prepared for us in the presence of our enemies, but when we look around us and no longer see enemies. When we scoot over and make room for everyone at the table. When we say, “Come. Sit next to me. Let’s eat together.”
related posts: There is No Them; Who is a Terrorist?
I shall not want
He makes me lie down in green pastures
He leads me beside still waters
He restores my soul
He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake
Even though I walk though the valley of death
I will fear no evil
For you are with me
Your rod and staff, they comfort me
You prepare a table for me in the presence of my enemies
You anoint my head with oil
My cup overflows
Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever
–Psalm 23
I went to church today with a heart in pain. I can’t quit thinking about the death of Trayvon Martin on February 26 in Florida. 17 year old Trayvon was walking home from a store with Skittles and iced tea when he was shot and killed by a self-appointed neighborhood watch captain armed with a handgun.
Last night I called a friend. She and I are the same age. We both grew up in Memphis. We remember segregated schools and the early years of integration. We remember the day Martin Luther King, Jr, was killed in our city. We remember his dream. But we are different. She is black and I’m white.
She grew up with three brothers and has a son and two grandsons. I asked her how her parents prepared her brothers to be young black men in the South, how she prepared her son, and how her daughters have prepared her grandsons. She told me that her brothers were taught to be careful about where they went, not to react if someone said something hurtful, not to stand up for themselves if someone accused them of something, not to fight back.
I don’t have a brother, but if I did have one, my mother would not have taught him those things. He would have felt free to go where he pleased, to respond to an insult, to defend himself against injustice. My mother would never have worried that if he went to a neighborhood store, he would be shot on the way home because he looked “suspicious.”
I look at my infant grandson and wonder what his parents will teach him. He is Chinese and African American. What will he need to know to be safe? Who will see him as “other”? Who will fear him or hate him because of his skin color? Who will want to do him harm?
When we sang the 23rd Psalm in church this morning, I could not sing the words “I shall not want.” On the contrary, I do want. I want my grandson to be safe. And your grandson. I want all children to be safe. Safe from violence and hatred and poverty and hunger and abuse and fear. Oh yes, I do want. Very much.
Being at church this morning felt wrong. I felt like a hypocrite. How could I be here when people, many of whom claim to be people of faith, my faith, do such terrible things to each other?
Then the minister stood to invite people to the table of communion, and his words answered my prayer. I wish I could remember them as eloquently as he spoke them, but here is the essence of what he said.
“You are welcome here. If you are a member of this church or visiting for the first time, you are welcome here. If you are a follower of Jesus or not sure who he was, you are welcome here. If you have deep faith in God or are full of questions, you are welcome here. If your life is going great or if your life is all messed up, you are welcome here. If you are repentant, unrepentant, or if you don’t even know what that means, you are welcome here. All are welcome at this table.”
That’s when all our children will be safe. Not when the table is prepared for us in the presence of our enemies, but when we look around us and no longer see enemies. When we scoot over and make room for everyone at the table. When we say, “Come. Sit next to me. Let’s eat together.”
related posts: There is No Them; Who is a Terrorist?
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Radical Forgiveness
Forgiveness is the path to happiness. –A Course in Miracles
I led a women’s retreat last fall. The theme of the retreat was four radical spiritual practices that lead to radical joy. One of the practices is radical forgiveness.
What do you think when you think of the word “radical”? Maybe the radical protesters of the 60s, radical fundamentalists, the radical left, radical change, and these days, free radicals. The word comes from the Latin word meaning “root.” It can mean fundamental, or extreme, or not ordinary.
Keeping that in mind, what would a radical spiritual practice be? Well, something that is not traditional. If we think about forgiveness, what does traditional forgiveness look like? If I think of forgiving someone, I probably start by thinking that person did something bad to me. Forgiving that person would mean releasing that person from my judgment, releasing the hold that the transgression has on my heart.
The Bible tells me I should forgive, as do many faiths as well as secular wisdom. But it’s not easy. I can dredge up things from long ago – a best friend who hurt my feelings, a broken promise, a forgotten invitation, a betrayal of confidence – that still sting. A few years ago, someone who was upset with me about something that was happening between us right then, burst forth with complaints about things I had done as a teenager. And while the accusations were valid, all I could think was, Gosh, haven’t I improved at all in the last forty years?
What is the power these wrongs have over us? Why is it that I believe so strongly that forgiveness is a good idea, and yet still nurse wounds long past? I wonder if it doesn’t start with the definition of forgive.
The definitions I found focus on granting pardon, or ceasing to blame or resent. These definitions assume that a wrong has been committed. If it has been committed against me, then I must be a victim.
But what if we question that assumption? What if no wrong has been committed? A Course in Miracles teaches that all perception of attack is based on a mistaken belief that we are separate from each other. Our whole view of the world is a creation of our egos, based in a past that isn’t real. Forgiveness is the miracle that corrects that mistake.
Hmm, I can get my head around this sometimes for a few moments when I am in a very deep kumbaya place of oneness. But much of the time, I am in a world of separate people who sometimes hurt my feelings or irritate me. When I am in pain, it’s hard to shift my world view to erase perceived transgressions as though they never happened.
But what if I could transform them? Not by traditional forgiveness that maintains a wronged victim model, but by radical forgiveness that is based on a victimless model that leads to gratitude. Gratitude...not a word we often associate with forgiveness.
Here’s how it might work.
1. First I have to acknowledge what has happened. Tell my story and feel my feelings about it. I’ll use an example from childhood when my best friend sided with the popular kids at a party, joining them in making fun of me, and excluding me from the group. It still hurts.
2. That hurt can manifest as anger and judgment, and create an obstacle to forgiveness. I can increase my suffering by trying to control what I can’t control. I might want my friend to behave differently. I might want her to be sorry. I might want her to stand up for me and tell off all those prissy little you know whats. So the next step is to befriend my pain rather than trying to deny it. The Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh teaches us to cradle our feelings like a baby.
3. Once my pain is honored and soothed, I can begin to look below the feelings at the underlying facts. Is there another way to look at them? Instead of judging my friend’s actions as selfish and mean, could I consider that she wanted the same things I did – to be popular, to belong, to be liked, to be accepted, to be valued? Might some of my anger towards her mask envy because she was included and I wasn’t? When I start considering other interpretations, my heart softens and I begin to feel compassion instead of condemnation.
4. So far we are still using the model of wronged victim, but here is where the radical part begins. Is it possible that what happened actually benefitted me in some way? For me to consider this, I have to loosen my grip on my victim identity. In what way is my life better because of what happened? What comes to mind is how that event shaped my views about inclusion. I won’t claim to be always compassionate, but whenever I see anyone being left out, being teased or bullied, I don’t hesitate to stand up for that person. And if I am in a group, I am more sensitive to issues of inclusion, making sure that everyone has a place at the table. As a parent, I was more attuned to these issues in the lives of my children, helping them cope if they were the targets, and imposing quick justice and education if they targeted others.
5. Thinking of that long ago event in this light transforms my friend’s actions from an attack to a gift. The pain is transformed into compassion. I am transformed from a victim to a more sensitive friend, a wiser parent, a more aware person. Forgiveness is transformed into the pearl of gratitude. And gratitude leads to joy.
It is a miracle, after all. And all miracles are radical.
You meant it for harm, but God meant it for good. –Genesis 50:20
related posts: New Best Friend; The F Word; Forgiveness, the Final Frontier
I led a women’s retreat last fall. The theme of the retreat was four radical spiritual practices that lead to radical joy. One of the practices is radical forgiveness.
What do you think when you think of the word “radical”? Maybe the radical protesters of the 60s, radical fundamentalists, the radical left, radical change, and these days, free radicals. The word comes from the Latin word meaning “root.” It can mean fundamental, or extreme, or not ordinary.
Keeping that in mind, what would a radical spiritual practice be? Well, something that is not traditional. If we think about forgiveness, what does traditional forgiveness look like? If I think of forgiving someone, I probably start by thinking that person did something bad to me. Forgiving that person would mean releasing that person from my judgment, releasing the hold that the transgression has on my heart.
The Bible tells me I should forgive, as do many faiths as well as secular wisdom. But it’s not easy. I can dredge up things from long ago – a best friend who hurt my feelings, a broken promise, a forgotten invitation, a betrayal of confidence – that still sting. A few years ago, someone who was upset with me about something that was happening between us right then, burst forth with complaints about things I had done as a teenager. And while the accusations were valid, all I could think was, Gosh, haven’t I improved at all in the last forty years?
What is the power these wrongs have over us? Why is it that I believe so strongly that forgiveness is a good idea, and yet still nurse wounds long past? I wonder if it doesn’t start with the definition of forgive.
The definitions I found focus on granting pardon, or ceasing to blame or resent. These definitions assume that a wrong has been committed. If it has been committed against me, then I must be a victim.
But what if we question that assumption? What if no wrong has been committed? A Course in Miracles teaches that all perception of attack is based on a mistaken belief that we are separate from each other. Our whole view of the world is a creation of our egos, based in a past that isn’t real. Forgiveness is the miracle that corrects that mistake.
Hmm, I can get my head around this sometimes for a few moments when I am in a very deep kumbaya place of oneness. But much of the time, I am in a world of separate people who sometimes hurt my feelings or irritate me. When I am in pain, it’s hard to shift my world view to erase perceived transgressions as though they never happened.
But what if I could transform them? Not by traditional forgiveness that maintains a wronged victim model, but by radical forgiveness that is based on a victimless model that leads to gratitude. Gratitude...not a word we often associate with forgiveness.
Here’s how it might work.
1. First I have to acknowledge what has happened. Tell my story and feel my feelings about it. I’ll use an example from childhood when my best friend sided with the popular kids at a party, joining them in making fun of me, and excluding me from the group. It still hurts.
2. That hurt can manifest as anger and judgment, and create an obstacle to forgiveness. I can increase my suffering by trying to control what I can’t control. I might want my friend to behave differently. I might want her to be sorry. I might want her to stand up for me and tell off all those prissy little you know whats. So the next step is to befriend my pain rather than trying to deny it. The Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh teaches us to cradle our feelings like a baby.
3. Once my pain is honored and soothed, I can begin to look below the feelings at the underlying facts. Is there another way to look at them? Instead of judging my friend’s actions as selfish and mean, could I consider that she wanted the same things I did – to be popular, to belong, to be liked, to be accepted, to be valued? Might some of my anger towards her mask envy because she was included and I wasn’t? When I start considering other interpretations, my heart softens and I begin to feel compassion instead of condemnation.
4. So far we are still using the model of wronged victim, but here is where the radical part begins. Is it possible that what happened actually benefitted me in some way? For me to consider this, I have to loosen my grip on my victim identity. In what way is my life better because of what happened? What comes to mind is how that event shaped my views about inclusion. I won’t claim to be always compassionate, but whenever I see anyone being left out, being teased or bullied, I don’t hesitate to stand up for that person. And if I am in a group, I am more sensitive to issues of inclusion, making sure that everyone has a place at the table. As a parent, I was more attuned to these issues in the lives of my children, helping them cope if they were the targets, and imposing quick justice and education if they targeted others.
5. Thinking of that long ago event in this light transforms my friend’s actions from an attack to a gift. The pain is transformed into compassion. I am transformed from a victim to a more sensitive friend, a wiser parent, a more aware person. Forgiveness is transformed into the pearl of gratitude. And gratitude leads to joy.
It is a miracle, after all. And all miracles are radical.
You meant it for harm, but God meant it for good. –Genesis 50:20
related posts: New Best Friend; The F Word; Forgiveness, the Final Frontier
Sunday, March 25, 2012
I'm a Finder, not a Seeker
Seek and you will find. Knock and the door will be opened to you. –Matthew 7:7
At our last monthly discussion group, someone said something about focusing on the journey, not the destination. That reminded me of all the “seekers” of the 60s and early 70s. Seeking enlightenment in India, seeking experience in LSD, seeking peace at protests, seeking love in sex, seeking simplicity in going back to the land, sometimes seeking just to be seeking. “I’m a seeker” was a popular phrase.
I was one of them. I traveled the world with a backpack, I marched in Washington, I lived off the land in Montana. Always seeking.
When the topic came up at our meeting, I realized that I at some point along the way, I didn’t want to be a seeker anymore. I wanted to be a finder. The title to this blog, after all, is not seeking your happy place; it’s finding your happy place...and staying there.
So I sought and I knocked. And, as promised, the door opened and I found. I found what Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz found. Home. My happy place. Right where it has always been. Here. Now. In this holy instant. And in this one.
Well, said the person at the meeting, that’s great, but how do you get there? That’s just it. We are here. Everyone. We can block our awareness of it, like clouds block the sun, but the sun shines on whether we see it or not.
Our task is not to seek; our task is to remove, to remove everything that blocks us from the light. Unlike the sun, though, this light is not out there. It’s inside. The eternal flame that burns in my soul and yours. Sculptors say that when they look at a piece of marble, they see the form inside and simply chip away at the outside until the beauty is revealed.
So it is with us. We chip away until we see our own reflection, right there where it always was. So beautiful. So perfect. Shining free.
For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face. Now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. –1 Corinthians 13:12
Related post: You Can Go Home Again
At our last monthly discussion group, someone said something about focusing on the journey, not the destination. That reminded me of all the “seekers” of the 60s and early 70s. Seeking enlightenment in India, seeking experience in LSD, seeking peace at protests, seeking love in sex, seeking simplicity in going back to the land, sometimes seeking just to be seeking. “I’m a seeker” was a popular phrase.
I was one of them. I traveled the world with a backpack, I marched in Washington, I lived off the land in Montana. Always seeking.
When the topic came up at our meeting, I realized that I at some point along the way, I didn’t want to be a seeker anymore. I wanted to be a finder. The title to this blog, after all, is not seeking your happy place; it’s finding your happy place...and staying there.
So I sought and I knocked. And, as promised, the door opened and I found. I found what Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz found. Home. My happy place. Right where it has always been. Here. Now. In this holy instant. And in this one.
Well, said the person at the meeting, that’s great, but how do you get there? That’s just it. We are here. Everyone. We can block our awareness of it, like clouds block the sun, but the sun shines on whether we see it or not.
Our task is not to seek; our task is to remove, to remove everything that blocks us from the light. Unlike the sun, though, this light is not out there. It’s inside. The eternal flame that burns in my soul and yours. Sculptors say that when they look at a piece of marble, they see the form inside and simply chip away at the outside until the beauty is revealed.
So it is with us. We chip away until we see our own reflection, right there where it always was. So beautiful. So perfect. Shining free.
For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face. Now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. –1 Corinthians 13:12
Related post: You Can Go Home Again
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Why Men Are Scared To Be Happy
Today's post is a guest post from Stuart Mills in the UK. You might know Stuart from his site Unlock the Door. He has recently launched a new site Limitless Believing.
Man – the breadwinner, hunter-gatherer, and proverbial ‘tough cookie’ of the family.
Men in today’s world are perceived differently than how they used to be – in years gone by, men were expected to provide for the family, to not show any signs of weakness, and to make all the decisions whilst the wife and/or servants did all the chores.
In present-day society however, men are different. Homosexuality is now widely accepted in the western world, men are no longer the sole breadwinner of the family, and some fashions even have men wearing make-up.
But what is this doing to men?
What Today’s Society Is Doing To Men
Men of all ages are feeling the transformational effects of the society of today, whether they agree with it or not.
It’s now socially acceptable for a man to wear the colour pink, although this would have been frowned upon and laughed at 50 years ago. It’s also OK for a man to stay at home all day and lounge around doing nothing, when 100 years ago, this would be criticised.
A number of other things are OK for men to do or be, and yet if you look back at the Victorian era, or even the World Wars, these things just weren’t acceptable at all. Some would even be shocking.
The effect that the changes in society are having on women is, overall, good – women are earning more in the workplace, whereas in the past they weren’t even allowed in the workplace. Women have more rights as human beings, they’re allowed to dress how they wish, and they’re free to say whatever they choose. The effects of society on men, however, are not as beneficial.
Men, as a group, are suffering from confusion over who they are meant to be. With the ever-increasing divergence of what men can, and can’t do, the role of the man is no longer crystal clear. Like with women, men’s accepted behaviours have widened, but this means that the roles of the two genders are balancing out. Men no longer have ‘power’ and ‘authority’, and this means that they begin to lose their perceived identity.
More importantly, they begin to lose their happiness.
Why Do Men Struggle To Be Happy?
The feeling that men can be happy is perfectly justified – men, like every other creature on this planet that can understand happiness, deserve happiness as a right. However, a lot of men struggle to be happy in the world of today, instead preferring to put happiness aside for the sake of other pursuits.
Why do they do this? One reason is because although the roles of men and women are more balanced today, some men still feel that they need to ‘do it all’, and assume the burden or responsibility alone. Some men need to feel like ‘men’.
These men will work long hours at their job to bring more money, will bring their work home with them (either physically or mentally), and will forsake spending more time with their loved ones for the sake of earning more income for the household. This is the traditional view of men - a view that is now obsolete in today’s society, but which some men still cling to.
Why do they cling to this view? It may be down to the pressure they feel to provide – if some men aren’t providing for their loved ones, they aren’t ‘true’ men.
They will find reasons to criticise themselves for not being ‘man enough’ and taking responsibility, so they may pursue other ‘manly’ things such as drinking at the local bar, or gambling. As long as they are doing something manly, then they tell themselves that what they are doing is ‘right’.
Another reason why men struggle to be happy is because society is asking them to fulfil conflicting objectives. On the one hand, men are directed towards having a successful career and making a lot of money. On the other hand, men are advised to be ‘free’ and spend more time with their loved ones. Women are now also capable of having successful careers, so man’s exclusivity to this role has vanished.
With the role of a ‘house-husband’ being touted, and with a financial economy that is constantly criticised, it’s become apparent that men no longer know who they are, and what role they’re meant to play in society.
In other words, men aren’t happy because men don’t know what will make them happy.
What Can Men Do To Be Happy?
It’s such a shame that men base their identities on what society dictates. I myself used to think that I had to conform to what society told me to do – I assumed that I had to provide for my future family, and gain qualifications which would lead to a successful career.
Today, I have changed my outlooks and think in terms of the individual. I no longer feel pressured by outside influences because I look at everyone as an individual, rather than a mass group of society.
This is what all men can do to be happy – view everyone as an individual. We have all been conditioned by outside forces, such as our parents, teachers, and mass society, to behave in a certain way and fulfil certain obligations. As such, the man’s individuality is lost when he pursues the dreams of society rather than his own.
I’d advise disposing of the 'dream' of society, and what other people expect, and follow each person’s own individual path.
As I discussed in my latest article, other people pass on their limiting beliefs, ‘infecting’ you with limiting beliefs of your own. This stifles happiness and individuality - a large-scale infection has taken place in today’s men, caused by a changing society.
To remove this infection, and embrace happiness, you must remove the limiting belief that you’ve inherited. You must cleanse yourself and learn to love yourself for who you are, rather than what others think you should be.
Happiness comes from being true to you – in order for men to be happy, they must abandon the roles that society expects of them, once and for all. Once this is done and the man is no longer dependent on others to tell him who he is, he is free.
Millions of people worldwide are restricted from living the life of their dreams by the limiting beliefs that control them. If you want to break those limiting beliefs and live life your way, then visit Stuart Mills at Limitless Believing, and subscribe here.
[note from Galen--I will be away from the computer Friday to Sunday, so please excuse any delay in publishing your valuable and valued comments.]
Man – the breadwinner, hunter-gatherer, and proverbial ‘tough cookie’ of the family.
Men in today’s world are perceived differently than how they used to be – in years gone by, men were expected to provide for the family, to not show any signs of weakness, and to make all the decisions whilst the wife and/or servants did all the chores.
In present-day society however, men are different. Homosexuality is now widely accepted in the western world, men are no longer the sole breadwinner of the family, and some fashions even have men wearing make-up.
But what is this doing to men?
What Today’s Society Is Doing To Men
Men of all ages are feeling the transformational effects of the society of today, whether they agree with it or not.
It’s now socially acceptable for a man to wear the colour pink, although this would have been frowned upon and laughed at 50 years ago. It’s also OK for a man to stay at home all day and lounge around doing nothing, when 100 years ago, this would be criticised.
A number of other things are OK for men to do or be, and yet if you look back at the Victorian era, or even the World Wars, these things just weren’t acceptable at all. Some would even be shocking.
The effect that the changes in society are having on women is, overall, good – women are earning more in the workplace, whereas in the past they weren’t even allowed in the workplace. Women have more rights as human beings, they’re allowed to dress how they wish, and they’re free to say whatever they choose. The effects of society on men, however, are not as beneficial.
Men, as a group, are suffering from confusion over who they are meant to be. With the ever-increasing divergence of what men can, and can’t do, the role of the man is no longer crystal clear. Like with women, men’s accepted behaviours have widened, but this means that the roles of the two genders are balancing out. Men no longer have ‘power’ and ‘authority’, and this means that they begin to lose their perceived identity.
More importantly, they begin to lose their happiness.
Why Do Men Struggle To Be Happy?
The feeling that men can be happy is perfectly justified – men, like every other creature on this planet that can understand happiness, deserve happiness as a right. However, a lot of men struggle to be happy in the world of today, instead preferring to put happiness aside for the sake of other pursuits.
Why do they do this? One reason is because although the roles of men and women are more balanced today, some men still feel that they need to ‘do it all’, and assume the burden or responsibility alone. Some men need to feel like ‘men’.
These men will work long hours at their job to bring more money, will bring their work home with them (either physically or mentally), and will forsake spending more time with their loved ones for the sake of earning more income for the household. This is the traditional view of men - a view that is now obsolete in today’s society, but which some men still cling to.
Why do they cling to this view? It may be down to the pressure they feel to provide – if some men aren’t providing for their loved ones, they aren’t ‘true’ men.
They will find reasons to criticise themselves for not being ‘man enough’ and taking responsibility, so they may pursue other ‘manly’ things such as drinking at the local bar, or gambling. As long as they are doing something manly, then they tell themselves that what they are doing is ‘right’.
Another reason why men struggle to be happy is because society is asking them to fulfil conflicting objectives. On the one hand, men are directed towards having a successful career and making a lot of money. On the other hand, men are advised to be ‘free’ and spend more time with their loved ones. Women are now also capable of having successful careers, so man’s exclusivity to this role has vanished.
With the role of a ‘house-husband’ being touted, and with a financial economy that is constantly criticised, it’s become apparent that men no longer know who they are, and what role they’re meant to play in society.
In other words, men aren’t happy because men don’t know what will make them happy.
What Can Men Do To Be Happy?
It’s such a shame that men base their identities on what society dictates. I myself used to think that I had to conform to what society told me to do – I assumed that I had to provide for my future family, and gain qualifications which would lead to a successful career.
Today, I have changed my outlooks and think in terms of the individual. I no longer feel pressured by outside influences because I look at everyone as an individual, rather than a mass group of society.
This is what all men can do to be happy – view everyone as an individual. We have all been conditioned by outside forces, such as our parents, teachers, and mass society, to behave in a certain way and fulfil certain obligations. As such, the man’s individuality is lost when he pursues the dreams of society rather than his own.
I’d advise disposing of the 'dream' of society, and what other people expect, and follow each person’s own individual path.
As I discussed in my latest article, other people pass on their limiting beliefs, ‘infecting’ you with limiting beliefs of your own. This stifles happiness and individuality - a large-scale infection has taken place in today’s men, caused by a changing society.
To remove this infection, and embrace happiness, you must remove the limiting belief that you’ve inherited. You must cleanse yourself and learn to love yourself for who you are, rather than what others think you should be.
Happiness comes from being true to you – in order for men to be happy, they must abandon the roles that society expects of them, once and for all. Once this is done and the man is no longer dependent on others to tell him who he is, he is free.
Millions of people worldwide are restricted from living the life of their dreams by the limiting beliefs that control them. If you want to break those limiting beliefs and live life your way, then visit Stuart Mills at Limitless Believing, and subscribe here.
[note from Galen--I will be away from the computer Friday to Sunday, so please excuse any delay in publishing your valuable and valued comments.]
Monday, March 19, 2012
The Curiosity of Not Knowing
I was delighted when Therese at Musings and Photography asked me to write a guest post. I have long admired the matching of her photography talents with her thoughtful reflections on her photos. She suggested that I link one of her photos to some aspect of my blog.
The photo I picked is this one. Click here to continue reading.
The photo I picked is this one. Click here to continue reading.
Friday, March 16, 2012
She was Never Bored!
I was chatting recently at the breakfast table with daughters Lily and Mia about plans for the day. Mia, my string-of-firecrackers-energy kid is always amazed that I find spending several days at the cabin without phone or internet or cable appealing. Or meditating. Or enjoying a cup of hot tea and a good book. Or being retired.
When I told her my plans for the day, which sounded pretty low key compared to hers, she asked me the question she often asks when she contemplates my life. “Aren’t you bored?” To which I replied with my usual answer. “I am never bored!”
Mia laughed and joked that my headstone should read, “She was never bored!” Lily, bless her heart, was shocked at a reference to my future demise, especially such an irreverent one, and reprimanded Mia. But I thought it was funny and perfect. I made them promise that if I ever had a headstone, they would put that on it.
It’s true. I am never bored.
But the conversation made me reflect a bit more deeply. I tried to remember the last time I was aware of feeling bored. Oh, yes, I remembered right away. It was a time years ago when I was going through a dark spell, which I attributed to the evil doings of someone I had had a serious falling out with. I spent months blaming this other person. I thought about it, wrote about it, and talked about it to anyone I could corner to listen.
Eventually, I settled into a rut. Nothing new was happening. I was just retelling the same old victim story. Over and over. Finally, one day I listened to myself and I thought, “I am so bored! I can’t stand myself anymore. If I hear this story one more time I’m going to ... I don’t know what!” That was the end of that. And the beginning of the path that has led me to now.
I learned two things from that period. One was that focusing on myself all the time is boring. Focusing on my problems all the time is excruciatingly boring. When I tired of my story and started paying attention to other people and the world around me, life got more interesting. My own problems moved to a back seat. Later I realized that my problems were largely of my own making, and that I could make a different choice. So they disappeared altogether. Life got better and better.
The second thing I learned was that my friends are better friends than I am. They stuck by me all those months. Long suffering is the term that comes to mind. They listened to me pick apart all that had happened. Again and again. They listened to me lash out with blame in self-righteous fury. Again and again. They could have read every book on the NY Times bestseller list with the hours they spent listening to me. I am awed and humbled by their patience and compassion. I doubt I could match it.
I love my life now. I play a small role in it. The story is so much more interesting that way. And I am never bored.
Related posts: It’s Not About You; God Bless That Ol’ @#&!
When I told her my plans for the day, which sounded pretty low key compared to hers, she asked me the question she often asks when she contemplates my life. “Aren’t you bored?” To which I replied with my usual answer. “I am never bored!”
Mia laughed and joked that my headstone should read, “She was never bored!” Lily, bless her heart, was shocked at a reference to my future demise, especially such an irreverent one, and reprimanded Mia. But I thought it was funny and perfect. I made them promise that if I ever had a headstone, they would put that on it.
It’s true. I am never bored.
But the conversation made me reflect a bit more deeply. I tried to remember the last time I was aware of feeling bored. Oh, yes, I remembered right away. It was a time years ago when I was going through a dark spell, which I attributed to the evil doings of someone I had had a serious falling out with. I spent months blaming this other person. I thought about it, wrote about it, and talked about it to anyone I could corner to listen.
Eventually, I settled into a rut. Nothing new was happening. I was just retelling the same old victim story. Over and over. Finally, one day I listened to myself and I thought, “I am so bored! I can’t stand myself anymore. If I hear this story one more time I’m going to ... I don’t know what!” That was the end of that. And the beginning of the path that has led me to now.
I learned two things from that period. One was that focusing on myself all the time is boring. Focusing on my problems all the time is excruciatingly boring. When I tired of my story and started paying attention to other people and the world around me, life got more interesting. My own problems moved to a back seat. Later I realized that my problems were largely of my own making, and that I could make a different choice. So they disappeared altogether. Life got better and better.
The second thing I learned was that my friends are better friends than I am. They stuck by me all those months. Long suffering is the term that comes to mind. They listened to me pick apart all that had happened. Again and again. They listened to me lash out with blame in self-righteous fury. Again and again. They could have read every book on the NY Times bestseller list with the hours they spent listening to me. I am awed and humbled by their patience and compassion. I doubt I could match it.
I love my life now. I play a small role in it. The story is so much more interesting that way. And I am never bored.
Related posts: It’s Not About You; God Bless That Ol’ @#&!
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