One day, a few days after the liberation, I walked through the country past flowering meadows, for miles and miles, toward the market town near the camp.  Larks rose to the sky and I could hear their joyous song.  There was no one to be seen for miles around; there was nothing but the wide earth and sky and the larks’ jubilation and the freedom of space.  I stopped, looked around, and up to the sky—and then I went down on my knees.  At that moment there was very little I knew of myself or of the world—I had but one sentence in mind—always the same:  “I called to the Lord from my narrow prison and He answered me in the freedom of space.”  How long I knelt there and repeated this sentence memory can no longer recall.  But I know that on that day, in that hour, my new life started.  Step for step I progressed, until I again became a human being.—Viktor Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning

    When we pursue a spiritual practice, we are often looking for ways to relieve our suffering, ways to feel whole, ways to be happy.  Too often, though, we find ourselves looking for “perfect” practices and results—which often lead to frustration and disappointment.

    How do we pursue perfect results?  I find people often expect to see themselves “improve” their lives at a certain rate—which rarely has anything to do with how human beings grow and change.  They set up a rapid schedule and practices that are supposed to provide instant results; easy steps; a minimal amount of time; lots of fun; instant equanimity; and a pain killer for their own suffering.  When these expectations aren’t met, they assume they are too flawed to lead a spiritual life—or that pursuing a spiritual life is not worth the effort.

    The irony is that they are flawed.  We are all flawed.  But we are unable to see the perfection in our “flawed-ness.”  We are perfect creatures for pursuing the spiritual life:  our impatience, desires for instant results, ongoing suffering, and lack of continual equanimity make us ideal candidates for taking the path of spirit.  We just don’t see the beauty and perfection of our own imperfection.

    At book signings in the last few months, a couple of people told me how difficult it was to find the perfect spiritual community.  I kindly told them that they never would find it.  But I also told them that every imperfect person in a community is our teacher:  the person who irritates us, the one who doesn’t pay attention, the one who’s always late, the one who likes to boss others around—those people are our spiritual teachers.  They mirror back to us our own imperfections, and since we are either reluctant or unable to see our own imperfections, we say they’re not spiritual!  And if we are not involved with community, we miss the “perfect” opportunity of learning those lessons we experience over time as we become more and more intimate with our spiritual friends.

    Maybe the “settling” I experienced when I first began to practice provided me with early motivation to continue on this path.  But over the years I’ve struggled with restlessness, boredom, lack of time, and being tired.  The major key to my continuing over the years, though, was my growing sense of liberation from the depth of my own suffering and my maturing connection to the Ultimate.  I also watched my willingness to look into my meditation experience with curiosity, with all the thinking that can come up—“Yup, today I’m really restless, and I’ll just keep sitting here until my time is up—when is that darn bell going to go off—maybe I didn’t set it right---it must be time by now—oh I’ve got to remember to call so-and-so tomorrow……….” and on and on and on.  I realized that the “perfection” was my willingness to put myself on the cushion, no matter whether I felt like it, no matter whether it felt comfortable to do on that particular day, no matter whether I’d rather do something else more fun.  That there was no such thing as “doing meditation perfectly.”  I could embrace my frustration, my restlessness, my mindless meandering, because some days I was just plain, perfectly human.

    If you are a person seeking the perfect path, you are likely setting yourself up for disappointment. The paradox is that your path already is perfect—with all its ups and downs, difficulties, confusions, and doubt.  If you stay with it, you will discover that although the path may not always be easy, it is an awesome, fulfilling, and a humbling experience.  Those who pursue a dedicated spiritual path know it is often revealing, unpredictable, nourishing and liberating, and those who persevere in the midst of desires for perfection and quick results are the ones who experience the deepest life of spirit. 

A comment from last month’s issue, “The Language of Spiritual Practice”—A powerful piece.  My experience, following a minority path, is that too often conversations with others could lead to a defensive mode on my part as they are often on the "I'm right" attack.  I've found no better way to keep the conversation positive than the listen and learn mode you are encouraging.  Humans are territorial animals both physically and mentally and it seems rare that a person truly celebrates our diversity.  Too bad, since we have so much to learn from one another. I've enjoyed each of your newsletters and this one spoke particularly
powerfully to me.  Thanks once again, Larry Spencer

 To hear Susan discuss her book, The Deepest Spiritual Life, call BookTalk toll free at 888-355-0600, code #2677.

August 20, 2003 - 7:30 to 8:30 pm, Bookstar, 12136 Ventura Blvd., Studio City, CA  (818) 505-9528