Agonize Over the State of Affairs Or Do This Counterintuitive Thing Instead

Issue 53

Aug 08, 2021

Some of the most sensitive and compassionate people, some of the most enthusiastic and articulate champions of a multi-racial, multi-ethnic democratic America that works for everyone, are often missing an opportunity. I’d hazard a guess that there isn’t a one of us writing or reading this who doesn’t or hasn’t fit into this category so no judgment whatsoever, ever. Our shared experience of missing an opportunity is derived from the oh so common trap we fall into when we agonize over the state of affairs. The new-consciousness opportunity, not surprisingly, is to transform our agonizing from something that’s extremely unproductive into something that’s pleasingly productive, if not a little counterintuitive.

Whether we’re agonizing over climate or health care or racial inequity or criminal justice or income inequality or anything else on the exhaustive list of terribles or, even, all of the above, today, conscious politics practitioner, is about looking beyond the agony trap. For simplicity’s sake, we will use just one of the issues — the one we call homelessness — as grist.

Take a moment to recall, if you will, that problems are caused by deficits of consciousness and solved with infusions of consciousness. The issue we call homelessness is, for argument’s sake, a “problem.” The deficit of consciousness that undergirds it or, more accurately, a deficit of consciousness, one component of it, is the belief that we humans are separate — from Spirit, from the planet, from one another. It qualifies as a deficit of consciousness because it simply isn’t true (see: quantum physics.)

An infusion of consciousness, then, a component of it anyway, is believing (knowing) that we are all connected. That was easy! And, again, for simplicity’s sake, we’ll stick to this one infusion for today. So say I find myself in the trap of chronically agonizing in one way or another about the issue we call homelessness and I truly believe that we are all connected. What might I do? The question applies to any of us who otherwise, for all intents and purposes, have a place to live and call home, a place to sleep every night. If that’s you, I encourage you to answer what, if anything, this awareness inspires in you. If it’s me, I basically just want everyone to have some version of a place to call home. My belief that we are all connected recalls an image of a rising tide lifting all boats. Agonizing, I reason, would contribute more to the sinking of all boats. So I guess I pretty much have to do the opposite of agonize. Hmm. That already feels a little counterintuitive, but I go ahead and create a new practice.

I am essentially doing it for and on behalf of those who cannot do it for themselves, a choice I make because of my unwavering belief that we are all connected — so how I think and feel matters to more than just me.

Now, when I return home from wherever I’ve been, I take note of all it means to me to experience being housed. I conjure the comfort. I relish the security. I luxuriate in the peace and the sanctity. I appreciate having a place where I can rest and rejuvenate. I consider what it means to have a kitchen replete with plumbing and electricity. I appreciate the experience of having a toilet and a shower, heat and air conditioning. I take note that I can be my Self here. I think all of this and, most importantly, I feel all of this on purpose, for as long and as often as I possibly can. I cultivate it as a consciousness. I am essentially doing it for and on behalf of those cannot do it for themselves, a choice I make because of my unwavering belief that we are all connected — so how I think and feel matters to more than just me. In many ways, this practice is really nothing more than a super-sized prayer on steroids, though prayer plays a role for me as well. May we all know what it’s like to move around in this world and return, at will, to whatever version of home most suits us. May we all experience safety and security. And stability.

Now, when I go to sleep, I revel in the breadth and depth of the experience of sleeping in a comfy, cozy bed every single night, no question. I delight in being able to modulate the temperature in the room so it’s right for me. I soak up the feelings of clean and dry. And warm. Again, I conjure all the feelings, on purpose, on behalf of those who cannot do it for themselves. To contribute to the rising of the tide. May we all sleep safely and peacefully and know deep rest.

Not only can this practice seem counterintuitive, it can also feel rather unsatisfying. For all our effort, for all our intentionality, we don’t quite see the results of what we’re doing out there. It does not seem to be reducing the number of unhoused people in the neighborhood or in the city or in the country overall, even though I’ve been at this for a month, I might say. That means I have to trust, I have to have faith that this all makes sense and is worthy of my effort. Fortunately, faith and trust are hallmarks of the new consciousness so I’m down. And whether or not I can ever construct a straight line between my efforts and unhoused people feeling them and, thus, attracting housing to themselves, is almost secondary to the positive effect this practice is already having on me. That means it has to be doing something to raise that tide.

Anyone with the room and space for chronic agonizing, for worrying and fretting and feeling pain, is one hundred percent available for this project. It only gets more impactful as more and more of us adopt it, no doubt. And regular readers of these pages will note that, yes, this absolutely qualifies as one of those “me things” — something we can do on our own, individually, within the context of a massive “we thing” that otherwise seems too big for us to address. (It isn’t.)

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