Yesterday, during my coaching session, Karpo asked me to visualize doing HugNation to an audience of 100,000.
(Normally there are around 20 people there.)
It was a powerful feeling.
With twenty, I sense the participants as glowing dots distributed around the globe. I see little outposts of love scattered around the world – fighting back the darkness.
Radio towers sending out concentric circles – slowly fading as they eventually circle the planet and connect.
But 100,000 felt different.
It made the world feel smaller.
It made the outposts into cities.
And instead of fighting back the dark, they are actively spreading the light.
Not out of any missionary zealotry, but because it cannot be helped.
This is how my world view has shifted.
I no longer feel compelled to change the world.
I once believed that the highest calling was righting the world’s wrongs.
Over time, this obvious path started to get muddy.
Doesn’t every conqueror, missionary and terrorist share this same philosophy?
With the exception of extremes like slavery and torture, who is to define what is “wrong?”
History is filled with well-meaning people.
It has become clear to me that activism must come from the way we live. And not simply in the actions of our day-to-day. I mean in the space we hold for ourselves and the intention we bring to those daily actions.
Every one of us is a radio tower walking through the world. Our words and actions ripple out from us and affect all we encounter. Our path is our sermon. If we soften the sharp edges of our socialized ego self, the vibrations we send out become stronger and more pure. People are affected by them, not by an outward attempt to fix/change/teach but by a sort of love osmosis.
It will affect people if it is pure. This is a stark contrast to going door to door with pamphlets and lectures. This is going step by step with every action being a part of life of purpose.
I saw this vividly in the time I spent with my grandfather. After decades of preaching, he had no shortage of flowery phrases and nuggets of wisdom. But his power was not in his words.
Grandpa’s most profound lessons radiated from his presence. You could feel his calm. You could sense his appreciation. So as he shared a story it was never the content that mattered, it was the energy he brought to it.
Gratitude. Appreciation. Love. Awe. Humility.
Every person walks through the world as a product of his socialization. There is no pamphlet or sacred book that applies to us all. But the peace of a holy man can be felt, regardless of the stories he believes. This is the kind of activism that I believe can change the world…
By not trying to change the world at all. But by working to purify our own light, and then shine it as bright as possible as we walk our personal path.
If our light is true, it will illuminate others.
But having the GOAL of illuminating others shows the same arrogance as any zealot in history.
Occasionally I have been contacted by someone who says, “Thank you for sharing X. It helped me to see Y in myself.” Or some other acknowledgment that my path has illuminated their path.
I admit, there is nothing that makes me feel better.
The irony is not lost on me:
My ego loves the feeling…of helping someone strip away unhealthy parts of their ego.
I struggle with this.
Wayne Dyer calls it “Ambition with purpose,” and I suppose it *is* much better than ambition clouded by greed or separateness.
It is a fine line to walk.
And one I imagine I will work on every day.
“Ambition with purpose.”
Karpo had me really sit with this image of HugNation 100,000 strong.
All of the above feelings swirled through me: pride, humility, hope, fear.
He had me stand up and feel it.
I held my hands out, palms open and lifted my face to the sun.
It was an odd feeling of power and smallness.
Of being a general and pawn.
Of feeling a part of the infinite One and also being insignificantly nothing.
Like a mountain and the breeze. Massive and formless at the same time.
I opened my eyes and became fixated on the trees in front of me. Each branch held perfection.
I was reminded of my grandfather’s tendency to stop mid-sentence and comment on a nearby tree.
I felt close to him. To the trees. To those 100,000. And to everything else.
And the concentric circles radiating out from me glowed a powerfully pure light.
Dec 17, 2009.