A few years ago, when the Olympic games were in Athens, I was watching them one night on T.V. The American commentator decided to give us a taste of Athenian life, so he walked down to the main square with the T.V. cameras. It was about 5pm, and the square was just filling up for the evening. There were children skipping rope and playing tag, teenagers on skateboards, mothers with babies in their arms, students drinking coffee, businessmen with newspapers and liqueurs, and old men playing chess. He strolled for a few minutes around the square, taking in the vitality and general friendliness of the scene.

What I noticed was how many people were actively engaged in talking with each other. Not the cursory cell phone kind of conversation we are so used to now, but real dialogue. It intrigued me so much that I lost interest in the games. When they were over, the same commentator went back to the square at one in the morning, “just for fun” he said. “We’ll see who’s left.”

He was astounded to find that the square was still full, and not because of the games. The mothers and young children had gone home, but they had been replaced by people of all ages who were still talking. This was quite unfathomable to the commentator. Finally he approached a white haired Greek patriarch, who stood up to speak with him. “Excuse me sir,” said the American, “could I ask you a few questions?”
“Of course,” the man beamed. “What would you like to know?” He was a remarkably tall and handsome fellow, towering above the American.
“What do you do here all night long?”
“We enjoy each other’s company,” the Greek replied. We laugh, we sing, and we engage in dialogue. We are eager to find out what is in each other’s hearts and minds.”
There was a moment of stunned silence.
“Will you be on time for work in the morning?” the American asked.
“Of course,” the patriarch replied with a huge smile. “But we Greeks have a different understanding of time and work than you North Americans.”

A few years later, I spent some time running a series of conversation cafes in our community. My intention was to bring as much of the community together as possible, and create an environment where they could engage in dialogue. I had been living in India for 25 years, where dialogue and inquiry are like part of the air you breathe. The people in India, like those in Greece, are not afraid to ask what I call ‘the big questions.’ As my teacher there used to say, “Any rickshaw driver will talk to you about God, life and the universe.”

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Let’s Turnaround

One of the themes that keeps appearing in my life and work lately has been the nature of cause and effect. How much freedom do I really have? Am I really the product of my genes, my upbringing, my conditioning and my situation? We certainly tend to think like that in our society. But is it really true?

I have asked hundreds of students and clients this question over the years: Do you really think that circumstances, people and situations determine your experience?
I’ve asked them to sit with that question in silence and wait for the truth to show itself to them. And I’ve never had anyone reply ‘Yes’ to that question. That amazes me. Every single person who took that question into their heart said ‘No, it must be that I am responsible for my own experience. I can’t make anything else the cause, otherwise I am a victim.’

But here’s where it really gets interesting. When I looked at the way I was actually living, I was amazed at how often I was thinking and behaving as if circumstances were much more powerful than I was.  (It was often my coaches that pointed this out to me, God bless them.) And I saw the same thing happening with my students and clients. I really started to wonder, “What’s going on here? Why are we not living according to what we really know to be true?”

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One of my readers, Karen Marsden, wrote and thanked me for my ‘lifeletters’ a while ago. I realized that she had come up, spontaneously, with a new name for these newsletters. Thanks Karen. And welcome to 20 new subscribers and new members of this virtual community. I’m posting some of your responses to and comments on the lifeletters in my blog, which is part of my website.
The Power of Willingness

I’ve been noticing lately the kinds of questions that arise when I’m working with people:
“Would you be willing to accept this experience just as it is?”
“Would you be willing to love yourself for feeling this?”
“Would you be willing to ask your body about this?”
“Would you be willing to live with this question and not know the answer?”
“Would you be willing just to say yes to this moment?”

A lot of the time people respond by wanting to know how, how to do whatever follows the word ‘willing.’ But that’s not the question. We really don’t have to know how. All we have to do is touch into the willingness.

About six years ago, on retreat, I discovered the power of willingness. Our facilitator had asked us to open right up and directly contact our inner experience, the whole spectrum of our feelings and thoughts, without holding back. He asked us to find out how willing we were to do that. I was in a lot of emotional pain at the time, and I realized, when he asked the question, that I wasn’t very willing at all to contact myself in that way. I was deeply discouraged by this, because I could see that without that willingness, I was stuck in a contracted place. I walked around for a while, contemplating my unhappy state, and wondering where I would find the willingness I was looking for. Then I realized something. I saw that I was willing to be unwilling. It seemed so simple, almost like nothing at the time. I simply saw that I was in a place of unwillingness because I was willing to be there.

It reminds me of Jon de Ruiter, a spiritual teacher, who talks about the liberating power of tenderness. He says that all you need to start with is a tiny droplet of tenderness. That’s what happened to me that day-I found a tiny droplet of willingness. And once I found it, it expanded and filled the whole universe. It turned into something much bigger and more potent that I had ever imagined. I realized that willingness is not something my mind produces. It’s an unconditioned quality that comes from the ground of my being.

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