Living without Entitlement

Two Ways of Being

It’s that liminal moment here in Southern Oregon between winter and summer. The forsythia is blossoming, daffodils are blooming, trees are budding, the days have grown noticeably longer. The turkey vultures have migrated over the Siskiyous, as they do in the spring, and are back here now, cruising on the air currents. The other day, a multitude of frogs were chirping enthusiastically in the creek. And then this morning it was snowing. One minute the sun is out warming everything, then it grows dark and cold again. This evening, graupel poured down in sheets, pinging on the roof and coating the ground with a magical carpet of white pellets. Rain washed them away, and then again it was snowing.

Soon enough it will be summer again, season of wildfires, heat and smoke, and then before we know it, next winter will be here. Endless cycles of birth and death, sleeping and waking, repeating yet never in exactly the same way twice. The outer weather and the inner, the shifting moods of both—this one bottomless moment displaying it all, the ever-unfolding dance of life that never departs from right here, right now.

In this dance, I’ve been especially interested lately in the contrast between the open awake spacious presence into which I often dissolve and a familiar state of self-righteous upset over something that feels important to me, whether it is my dietary preferences and their ethical implications, the war in Ukraine, the spread of false information, or the dangerous excesses of both right and left. This movement between the open heart of spacious presence and the closed mind of self-righteous upset has been of interest to me for many decades, but it seems to be especially so in recent months. I find myself noticing how exactly I shift from one state to the other, what triggers and reinforces each, what each one feels like, and how they each affect the world.

On several occasions, I’ve heard a spiritual teacher named Mooji say, “Live as though you have no rights and no entitlements, and you’ll appreciate all that comes.” He has said, “This is a very generous statement because it challenges so much of our conditioning. My point in this is that we never expect things or push life about, so your heart becomes very silent and vast and empty and very aware of the beauty of life.” These words have stayed with me like a koan.

This is a very radical proposal, one that could certainly raise people’s hackles and be easily misunderstood, because as Mooji acknowledges, it flies in the face of many aspects of modern culture. We are often obsessed with our rights and entitlements, and it seems this obsession is growing, not diminishing. Perhaps it helps that Mooji is a black man and not a white man saying this. Because I’m certainly very glad for the many movements that have advocated for social justice and equal rights, and for all the people who have spoken up against abuse in both personal and public situations rather than simply allowing themselves or someone else to be treated poorly. I’m guessing that Mooji isn’t trying to say that all of that should be abandoned, that oppressed or marginalized groups should happily accept their oppression and allow it to continue unchallenged, or that anyone suffering abuse should meekly submit to more of it. Rather, I think he’s pointing to a shift in attitude in which we can still speak up about something that isn’t right, but if we do, we come from a very different place. It's that difference between open awake spacious presence and angry, entitled, pushy, self-righteous upset.

When I feel that I’m right about something or that I’m entitled to something, what happens?  I become focused on what’s wrong, what needs to be different. It feels tight, judgmental, aggressive, full of resistance—and it creates a sense of separation and conflict. I feel I deserve something that I’m not getting, or that the world is going wrong in some way that must be corrected. There’s a lot of ego in this state, a strong conviction that I’m right and others are wrong. Others are wronging me (or something I identify with or care about). I think many of us feel this way when we read the news, or when the service somewhere isn’t what we expect, or when someone doesn’t respond to us in the way we want. We become a bit like a two-year old throwing a temper tantrum—maybe outwardly and visibly, or maybe only internally and invisibly, or maybe in some passive-aggressive way that masquerades as kindness and love.

But there is another possibility. When we see how painful all this is, perhaps the momentum stops. There is a sudden stillness and we open into spacious presence. Simply being here, no longer caught in the storylines and the smog of emotion-thought, but instead tuned in to the energetic qualities of the moment, awake as this vast listening presence. We’re no longer fighting for or against anything. We’re no longer a separate beleaguered little “me.” We are simply this vast openness, Here-Now, present and aware, open to everything, beholding it all with awareness. That awareness is a kind of unconditional love that allows everything to be as it is, that clings to nothing, and that has space for something new to emerge. But we’re not expecting anything new, or waiting for anything different. We know that the world will always contain the light and the dark, and we are at peace with that. We are the space that beholds it all, and that meets it all with love.

We might think that this is much too passive in the face of personal, social or global injustice, but it doesn’t feel passive. It feels very alert and alive. In this openness, there are no boundaries, no divisions, no walls, no opposites. And because we are not really separate, I believe this openness has an effect far beyond our own lives. We transmit something very different in this openness than what we transmit when we are filled with judgment, expectation, and entitlement. In this spacious, open-hearted place, we feel gratitude for everything, even the things we don’t like. Instead of being filled with complaints and judgments, we are full of appreciation. We see beauty in everything. Everything is grace because we see it as grace. As Rumi said: “What hurts you blesses you.” In this open place, we know that. And if we are moved to take action or speak out, we do it in a very different way. We come from love.

Yes, hatred, resentment, anger, fear, entitlement and everything else are all part of life. It’s all what is, it’s all something the universe is doing, and in some way it all belongs, it all goes together. But in open awake spacious presence, we know that, we realize (make real) that perspective. Yes, there is only here-now-being, whatever form it takes, and there is a huge difference between “being here now” (present, awake, open) and being lost in the trance of separation and entitlement. Both are true. It’s all one seamless happening, and there are differences that make a huge difference. Not one, not two.

As my friend and teacher Toni Packer put it: “The essence [of this work] is to come upon a profound kind of listening and openness that reveals the intense power and momentum of our human conditioning, how we are caught up and attached to ideas about ourselves and each other, how violently we defend these ideas—not just individually but collectively—and how this defense keeps us isolated from each other and from ourselves. The other aspect of this listening is to come upon an inner/outer silence—stillness—spaciousness in which there is no sense of separation or limitation, outside or inside.”

There is no finish-line in the awakening journey, no end point. It isn’t about being perfect, keeping score, or judging ourselves for falling short. Part of being human is that we do fall short, again and again. It seems to be in the nature of consciousness that it does get hypnotized by the story of separation and conflict, resentment and entitlement. This happens. This is somehow part of the dance. But in any moment, and always only NOW, there is the possibility to stop. To be still. To open. To let go of our defenses, our resistance, our ideas of how everything should be, and to simply be present. And then, everything changes in the most marvelous way.

Update on The Witch Trials

In my last newsletter, I mentioned and recommended an on-going podcast on The Free Press called The Witch Trials of JK Rowling, hosted by Megan Phelps-Roper, who grew up in and eventually left the infamous Westboro Baptist Church. The podcast deals with issues of polarization, belief and certainty, the impact of social media, the breakdown of civil discourse, the cancellation and demonization of people, and the possibility of constructive dialog. I was very happy to find that the installment that was released this past week, Chapter 6, is devoted entirely to conversations that Megan has with a transwoman named Natalie (aka ContraPoints, who has a large YouTube following) and a 17-year-old young transman named Noah. Both are very intelligent, articulate, insightful, open-minded people who discuss what they find troubling about Rowling's views and why they see it as bigotry, even if it isn’t the overt, obvious kind of bigotry, and they do all this with compassion, humor, and hope and appreciation for Rowling. The next episode will be Rowling's response to what these two people have said. I’m very curious how that will go. My own opinions about how some of the demands of the transgender movement may impact women, and about the use of medical interventions on children and teens, have changed many times over. I can appreciate both the concerns that Rowling has expressed and those of Natalie and Noah. I can see it from different sides. As I mentioned in my previous newsletter, I seriously considered transitioning myself, I have trans people in my life, I consider myself nonbinary or genderqueer, I certainly want a world that fully accepts trans people, and I care deeply about women and children. I also care about the polarization and demonization that is so rampant now around this and so many other issues, how I play into it and get caught up in it, how it can shift and open up, and how this presence that we all share is truly beyond all these labels and divisions. On so many levels, I find this podcast fascinating. I also really loved Megan’s book Unfollow and recommend it highly.

What Else Have I Been Reading?

Run Towards the Danger by Sarah Polley (a truly great book!)
Women Talking (the novel) by Miriam Toews (on which the movie is based)

Thank you all for being here and for listening.