Recently, I spoke at Chris Guillebeau’s World Domination Summit, where 3000 people who yearn to make the world a better place gather to inspire one another and compare notes. My talk was, in part, about sacred activism, how we can find and fulfill our spiritual mission and allow our gifts and talents to be used in service to our life purpose. As part of my call to spiritual action to those in the WDS community, I shared something I wrote about in my upcoming book The Anatomy of a Calling.
Once upon a time, I had the crazy thought that I had to save the world single-handedly. I won’t bother to list the number of ways this thought was misguided. Wait. Strike that. I’ll list a few ways in which I might have been totally off base.
What if it’s only my ego yearning to feel worthy that drives me to feel like it’s my responsibility to save the world?
What if I’m just judging the world as wrong, when on some cosmic level, it is perfect the way it is?
What if it’s impossible for any one person to save the world—yet paradoxically, it’s also the only way the world can be changed?
What if Margaret Mead was right when she said, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has?”
What if it really takes a village to create a movement—and movements are what we need to really shift consciousness and lead to genuine change?
What if we can’t really change the world from the same egoic consciousness that created the problems in the first place? What if global transformation is only possible with a radical shift in human consciousness?
Certainly, you can make an argument that there are many things in the world in need of changing, but if you dive into the non-dual teachings of the spiritual realm, you can also make a case for how everything that is falling apart has cosmic significance, how as a species, perhaps we have chosen to journey this far into the disruption of Oneness, this far away from Love Itself, just so we can choose as a collective to participate in a revolution of love. (Listen to Charles Eisenstein and I explore this issue in a free teleclass The Revolution Is Love).
Perhaps Love Itself is yearning to reclaim its role as the central operating principle of our lives, and when we let it, it leaps us into inspired actions that change the world.
I travel a lot, and I meet the most well-intentioned, beautiful beings who are fighting against the injustices of the world. They stand for ending sexual violence against women, the destruction of Gaia, climate change, social inequality, and any number of other very good causes. I appreciate that these people are DOING something to heal the world. Their passion seems admirable and their commitment and self-sacrifice command respect.
Yet, I find something about the energy of some forms of activism weighing heavy on my heart.
We’ve all met the angry feminists that lash out at men, the rainforest activists who judge those who drill in the Amazon, and the Occupy activists who hate the 1%. But how can we possibly co-create a more beautiful world if we’re coming from the energy of judgment and hate? As one of my spiritual teachers said, (forgive her language), "Fighting for peace is like f*cking for virginity."
When I was in Australia speaking at the Uplift Festival in December, 70 spiritual self-help leaders, elders from the indigenous tribes of five different nations, and change-the-world activists spent a week before the festival participating in an ongoing conversation about the intersection of spirituality and activism. How do we marry the principles of "Being" that we learn through our spiritual practices with the practices of "Doing" embodied by many activists on the front lines of global change? Are we better off sitting on our meditation pillows, raising the vibration of the planet and emitting frequencies of love into the world? Or do we need to get off our pillows and go DO something? Is there a way to be even more effective by merging the two?
He broke your heart, violated your trust, betrayed your confidence, ignored your needs, and disrespected you. When you tell your friends, they shake their heads, clucking, shaming. You’re better off without him. He doesn’t deserve you. You can do better than him. You make up a story, one that casts him as the villain and you as the victim of his dastardly deeds. It’s a good story, the kind they make movies about. You feel righteous when you kick him to the curb. You did the right thing, they all say. There’s lots more fish in the sea.
But deep down, there’s hurt underneath the anger. And beneath the hurt lies Something Larger, something that understands why he did it, something you’d have to reckon with if you acknowledged it, something that disrupts your story. So you stick to your story, ignoring what lies beyond it. It’s easier that way. You have to protect yourself, after all.
But I ask you this. What would Love do?
I haven’t written much about it publicly because it’s been so intense and confusing and extraordinary, but for almost a year, I have been involved in what others describe to me as a “twin flame” or “soul twin” relationship. Dennis and I are not a “couple” in any traditional sense of the word. He’s a gay man. I’m a straight woman. Both of us have recently experienced divorces from our partners, so we are technically “single,” but a number of factors keep us from getting involved in a typical romantic relationship.
And yet, we are both learning more about love than either of us ever had in our other conventional relationships. Before last January, I had never heard of a “twin flame” or a “soul twin.” Of course, the term “soulmate” gets bantered about, but I’m told this is not the same thing. A soulmate may be someone with whom you’ve had a deep soul connection and perhaps been involved with in past lives. Such a relationship may have a lot of karma attached to it, so such relationships can be quite intense and deeply loving.
But apparently (I say apparently because my ego mind still argues about whether such a relationship is really “real”), twin flames are different and much more rare. I can’t quite grok people’s explanations of what a twin flame is. Some say you’re one soul split and incarnated into two bodies. Others say you’ve just had many many past lives together so the link between you is like high speed internet through a direct cable. Some say you’re from the same soul family in the spirit realm, but you rarely incarnate together, that one partner of such a relationship usually stays in the spirit realm to act as a guide for the other, and if both parts of the pair incarnate together, it’s because they’ve been called into spiritual service in an extraordinary way. None of these explanations make sense to my rational doctor’s mind. And yet, something feels true about this with Dennis and I. The link between us feels like more than an emotional bond or an energetic cord. It feels skeletal.