Everyday Enlightenment, page 27
• How did it feel when you've done someone a service?
• When you do someone a favor, do you expect thanks? Is it possible you should be the one thanking them?
• Name your three best accomplishments. Pick any one of them. Can you think of at least ten people whose skills or services helped you to accomplish it? (There are many more than ten.)
• Whether or not you are paid, your work in the world is a form of service. What form of service would you most like to provide in the world? What have you done to set this in motion?
These questions serve as an entrée into a new experience of living and open the twelfth gateway within your psyche. Let's now explore what may be the ultimate purpose of human life.
Self-Service and the Leverage for Change
Social activists argue that in the real world we need to focus our efforts and energy on helping others, political action, striving to make peace among nations. Mystics claim that we will not find peace in the world until we find it within ourselves
Years ago, a single incident reconciled for me this apparent conflict between social activism and inner work. It happened during a period of intense spiritual growth work on myself—meditation, prayer, contemplation, visualization, bodywork, and self-analysis. One afternoon, as I was walking with an old man I called Socrates, we came upon several large posters on the side of a building. One showed the gaunt faces of starving children; next to it was a plea to help oppressed people around the world; the third pictured the plight of endangered species.
“You know, Socrates,” I said, pointing to the posters, “I feel guilty, or selfish, doing all this work on myself when there are so many people in need—”
Soc stopped abruptly, turned to me, and said, “Take a swing at me.”
“What do you mean, take a swing at you? Did you hear what I said?”
“Come on,” he urged, moving like a boxer, goading me. “I'll give you five dollars if you can slap me on the cheek.”
I figured this was some kind of test, so I took a swing—and found myself on the ground in a painful wrist lock. As Soc helped me to my feet, he made his point. “You notice how effective the right leverage can be?”
“Yes,” I said, shaking out my wrist. “I noticed.”
“Before you can help others, you need to understand them. Before you can understand them, you need to understand yourself. Then you will know how to exert the right leverage at the right place and at the right time. The more clarity and courage your actions reflect, the more impact your efforts will have.”
Ben Franklin once wrote, “God helps them that help themselves.” This is a self-help book in the best sense in that it can help you cultivate the heart and will to help others. As you transcend your own limitations and tendencies, you will naturally show loving-kindness to others. As your own light shines more brightly, you illuminate the world.
Rabbi Hillel wrote, “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If I am for myself alone, what am I?” If you help only yourself, constantly looking out for number one, you lose your connection to the human family and tear the fabric of which you are one thread; but if you serve only others while remaining a stranger to yourself, your service remains a hollow act of separation, a dismal chore devoid of healing power.
A Story of Service: It Is Good
James from Texas wrote:
Four years ago, on a cold and wet Sunday, where the plains of East Africa meet the forested slopes of Mount Kenya, my motorcycle broke down. Getting it to a garage cost me my last shilling. Stranded fifty miles from home, I knew no one with whom I could stay until morning, [so] I chose to spend the night in the doorway of a small church.
Near dusk, a threadbare, elderly Kikuyu man walked by and we struck up a conversation. Njoroge was the pastor of a tiny church. When he learned of my predicament, he invited me to spend the night at his house. He and his wife were squatters in a dilapidated, abandoned European farmhouse. We warmed ourselves around a cooking fire beside the porch. They apologized for having no tea to serve me. I noticed that they had nothing in which to boil water, anyway. Njoroge's wife, who spoke neither English nor Swahili, cooked me an immense mound of potatoes mixed with corn and beans.
Although my Swahili is limited, Njoroge and I talked late into the night about religion, white settlers, freedom, and the tragedy of people so desperate for firewood that they cut down the forest. Njoroge and his wife insisted that I take their bed—newspapers and cardboard covered with a blanket.
The next morning, my host served me a cup of tea he had purchased at a mud-and-thatch hut a half-mile away. Afterward, I hitchhiked home, grateful to this old man and his wife, and chastened by the knowledge that they had given me a larger portion of their belongings than I had ever given anyone, stranger or best friend.
When I returned the following weekend to retrieve my motorcycle, I took the old couple an aluminum tea kettle, a strainer, tea, and some sugar. Njoroge wasn't home, but his wife greeted me warmly. Some people say that the Kikuyu are an ungrateful people because the words “thank you” don't exist in their language. The expression they use instead means “it is good.” Njoroge's wife shyly accepted my gift and smiled, and we both said that it was good.
How Will You Spend Your Life?
Millions of people in this world have earned or inherited enough wealth so that they never again need to work for money. Some then give of their time and talent in creative service to the world. Others, because they have not yet seen their shadows or awakened their hearts, may remain self-absorbed, idling their time on amusements, esoteric pleasures, traveling, collecting sensory experiences, playing with power and status and influence. Such people are lost and need our compassion more than our misguided envy or quick judgments. Their naked pain, clothed over with the trappings of wealth or power, will eventually lead them to a form of useful service
There must be more to life than having everything!
—Maurice Sendak
Millions of people are born into a culture of poverty. Preoccupied with the struggle for survival, dealing with pressure of relationships, assailed by worries, they are not yet free to consider the power of service to the larger world. For them, God is bread and service is the struggle to survive another day, another season. Abundance to share with others is not yet even a dream. Yet they, too, are led to sacrifice and serve in order to feed their families and cling together for the common good.
Thus the winding paths of both wealth and poverty lead to service, as do all the paths of life.
Love and Do What You Will
once you establish physical and spiritual sufficiency, and find enough free attention, self-worth, and will to cultivate a balanced, energized body; once you rise above the storms of the mind and emotions to trust your intuition, meet your shadow and face your fears, embrace both your sexuality and your humanity, and awaken your heart—you will have nothing left to do, and nothing that gives you greater meaning or joy, than simple service.
What you are is God's gift to you;
What you make of it is your gift to God.
—Anthony Della Villa
Given that no one ever perfectly masters all the gateways, and that work in each gateway contributes to mastery of all others, ask yourself: How can I begin now to share my energy, my talent, my heart, with others? What would I choose to do if I were already whole and complete? How would I spend my time, my energy, my life? What will be my priorities?
Even as we hike up, sometimes struggle up, the mountain, we can help others to do the same. Once we awaken to the reality that we are responsible for our own life, we come to realize that we are, in a larger sense, responsible for the care of our entire human family.
A Story of Service: A Simple Act of Kindness
Susan from Washington wrote:
My friend Murphy was broke. He was teaching one night class at college, and it didn't pay much. One of his students was a long-haired, barefoot-in-winter guy who looked to be in his thirties—a thoughtful, hardworking student whose life seemed generally disorganized. In this respect, he was like Murphy, who had a big warm coat and not much else besides a great education.
The barefoot student kept Murphy after class one evening with questions. When they walked outside it was snowing, and the guy asked if he could get a ride. Murphy said, Sure. As they drove toward the student's home, Murphy began talking about a beautiful piece of land he wanted to buy—a steal, but still beyond his means. The guy asked how much it cost, and Murphy told him, a little apologetically. It seemed greedy to want it, considering how little this other guy had. After all, Murphy did have his big coat, a twenty-year-old VW bug, a paycheck, and a room to live in. It wasn't a very nice room, but hell, he had shoes.
Anyway, this guy without shoes was a great listener. Murphy appreciated it, and was getting ready to see what kind of shelter or food he could offer when suddenly the guy said, “Well, I can help with the land.” Murphy smiled ‘at the jest, but the guy explained that he had a lot of money and hadn't thought of a good way to use it, except to take courses sometimes and help out people who knew what they wanted.
The guy ended up buying the land in Murphy's name on a no-interest loan. Murphy kept driving the VW bug and wearing the big old coat. He paid off the loan, built a cabin, got married, began raising kids, and got a job he adores. It began with a simple act of kindness.
The Gift of Life
Imagine for a moment that, through a strange twist of fate, you wake up one morning and find yourself imprisoned in a nameless country and for political reasons scheduled for execution at midnight. You gaze out through prison bars and see the first rays of your last sunrise. A rooster crowing in the distance sounds poignantly sweet. You feel greedy for every sight, every sound, taste, and aroma. You eat your last meal as the shadows grow long outside. And as the sun sets, you say your final farewell to the light of day, for you will never again see the sunrise. Each passing minute draws you closer to your final good-bye, your last prayer, and, finally, your last breath.
A final day awaits us all.
We may know in advance when our end is near, through declining health, a terminal illness, old age. Or we may have only a few seconds' notice, or none at all.
When the executioner raises his scythe, how many of us may want to say, “Wait! Just another moment, please! Let me take one more sweet breath! Give me one more sight, sound, touch of my beloved! Wait, please! Just one more moment!”
Now is the time to see, to listen, to touch—bring our best to life while we have the life for it. How much we have, no one can say. Life itself is a near-death experience.
Consider how we appear from nowhere, as microscopic specks on a minuscule, blue-green dot moving through the infinity of space and time. Our lives are ephemeral and brief, each of us one cell among billions on the planet, and yet we strive to love, to serve, to find meaning and fulfillment while we live. Life itself is a hero's journey.
Contemplating how we came to be here is like trying to find the ends of space. We find no answers, only wonder and awe and gratitude for being invited. Counting our blessings leads to a desire to give something back. Thus begins the path of service, the fruit of our journey, the gateway to joy.
The purpose of life is a life of purpose.
—Robert Byrne
A Story of Service: Giving and Receiving
Pete from North Carolina wrote:
I decided to pick him up because I knew it wasn't easy to get a ride if you had a dog. His name was John, and he was wearing old, dirty jeans, a beret, and no shirt. His torso was tan and lean. I was reminded of Christ's long body hanging from the cross.
He put his sheep dog named Sailor in the back. In the rearview mirror, Sailor's big stern face, with one ear hanging down and the other standing up, was deadly serious, as if he were watching over John, who had a very different demeanor.
I tried to make small talk, but nothing he said in response made any sense. When I asked him about his childhood, where he had grown up, he squinted. “I remember the archery,” he said, then paused before continuing solemnly, “The Red Cross can't help me.”
I gathered that he was penniless and homeless and that he had probably been released from a mental institution. He said he'd go as far as I was going.
That night I stopped at a McDonald's. I asked if I could get him a couple of burgers. He said no, but he dug into his pocket, pulled out a quarter, and asked if I'd get him an ice-cream cone. I went inside, deciding to buy some extra burgers and then pretend to be too full to eat them.
When I came out, feeling ticklish with covert kindness, I found John and Sailor gorging on burgers from the garbage.
From the Dumpster, he said, “Do you want any?”
Late that night he said that soon time machines would be commonplace. He told me he was going to Canada to see a cousin who would give him some plywood so he could make a boat from it, and all orphans would be welcome.
I let him out under a bridge on the interstate. Clumsily, I tried to give him money, but he said no. Instead he would sell me his beret. Deal.
Five years later, I saw John again. I was driving down the interstate with a van full of kids, so I couldn't stop. Sailor was with him, one ear still up, one down. John had on a new hat, a brightly colored beret embroidered with gold. I think I helped him out a little that day; I think he helped me, too.
Follow Your Heart to Find Your Calling
When, through accident, intent, or design, you feel the call to serve others, your dilemma becomes, How can I best serve? Just as most of us search for or stumble upon a form of livelihood, so we come upon ways to make a difference in the world
Some people have written me to suggest that I make a career presenting peaceful warrior trainings to prison inmates. Others have proposed that I make youth my mission. Still others have suggested that I could do the most good working with corporate executives or with men's groups. I have in fact spoken with inmates and corporate executives and with youth and men's groups. But my calling involves working with people from all walks of life who are drawn to my writings, talks, or audio programs. There are other people who have been called to working with prison inmates, or the ill or dying, or with youth or executives in the corporate world. We each need to follow our own mission and heart's desire rather than be driven by the dictates of guilt or obligation. It is unlikely, for example, that Mother Teresa got up each day and said, “Oh, darn, I've got to go work with these lepers again.” On the contrary, she said she saw the face of Jesus in everyone she served.
Find a form of service that calls to you, that suits your abilities, aptitudes, qualities, and interests, that makes time fly, that draws forth your best effort and energy, that tells you you've arrived home and found yourself.
Service and Self-Worth
In the final gateway you have come full circle, in the sense that the action of service provides the ultimate means to establish a solid sense of self-worth, which, you have learned, can favorably impact every facet of your life—so much so that it is questionable whether the receiver or giver of service should offer the most thanks. The following letter I received several years ago stands as a testament to the power of service in helping to enhance our sense of worth and the quality of our lives
A Story of Service: Surprising Change
Todd from Kansas City wrote:
About two years ago, I called your office, Dan, and asked to speak with you. You happened to be in the office, and we spoke briefly. I remember telling you that I was twenty-eight years old, and feeling kind of lost. My girlfriend wasn't sure whether she wanted to stay with me, and I was sick of my work but didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. I'm not sure what else I said, but I remember that you said something that really irritated me. You said that I might want to consider volunteering some-where—at a hospice, or a hospital, or an organization I believed in—some kind of community service. I felt like you were brushing me off, since you didn't respond to the problems I had raised. I was really surprised how angry I was that you would make such an irrelevant suggestion that didn't help me at all.
The reason I'm writing now is that about six months after that phone conversation, I found myself volunteering at a youth center—you know, helping kids in sports. A lot of them didn't have fathers around or other male figures in their lives.
I just wanted you to know that volunteering at that youth center changed my life. Everything seems to be working better now. I don't know what happened, but I just wanted to thank you.
Ways to Serve
When you ask the question “How can I help?” you may look for a local charity or organization that accepts volunteers. They are available in every city and town. In fact, many groups and organizations can exist only if supported by a core of volunteers, and your help is needed and appreciated. Some opportunities include
• working with environmental organizations
• visiting homes for the elderly
• working with youth at recreation centers, or as a Big Brother or Big Sister
• staffing a suicide prevention hot line
• painting, repairing, or decorating a homeless or women's shelter
• helping build a home with Habitat for Humanity
• working as a teacher's aid at a local school
• helping in hospitals
• working at a hospice
• creating your own ways to serve and to help (since the preceding list only touches the tip of the iceberg).
The Internet or local library can provide a list of many possible organizations seeking volunteer help. It sometimes happens that volunteer work turns into a career, or at least helps clarify your purpose and direction, while also making a difference to others.
An act as simple as giving a gift increases serotonin levels in the blood, releasing endorphins (natural opiates) that produce a natural high. Perhaps that explains the comment of my friend, Swami Beyondananda, who said he was angry with his higher self because “it's always getting high without me.”
