Spirituality and Self-Worth

By Amoda Maa Jeevan, author of Embodied Enlightenment

A surprising number of people, especially in today’s materially oriented world, experience a lack of self-worth.

There’s a common belief, even in spiritual circles, that not having enough money is a sign of unworthiness. This usually translates into “I am unable to receive,” “I don’t love myself,” or “I’m not good enough.” What often follows is an attempt to improve self-worth in order to attract more money in order to feel abundant, and therefore to believe yourself to be worthy. Sometimes this works (at least for a while), but mostly it does not.

The acquisition of psychological and spiritual tools for fixing yourself and getting what you want in order to feel better about yourself is a huge error of attention. By giving allegiance to the story of “me” and “my life,” the ping-pong of feeling worthy and feeling unworthy is prolonged. It’s a perpetuation of the seeking mechanism, and there is no fulfillment in this.

True fulfillment comes only when you awaken out of the dream of separation. When you fulfill your inner purpose of awakening to your true nature as the unboundedness of being, the polarity of worthiness and unworthiness collapses into the totality of now. You do not need to feel abundant, because abundance is here as the fullness of this moment. There is no one to judge you as worthy or unworthy. It was only ever yourself judging yourself. When you awaken out of the dream of separation, this is seen to be ludicrous (and a waste of time)!

When you stop right here and rest deeply in the softness of your belly, in the gentle throb of your heartbeat, in the pregnant pause between each breath, in the alive awakeness of now, you may well discover that this moment is rich beyond measure, and that there is no limit to abundance.

Embodied EnlightenmentAmoda Maa Jeevan is the author of Embodied Enlightenment: Living Your Awakening in Every Moment, published by New Harbinger Publications. Copyright 2017.

I Come to Call You Home by Mooji

I come to call you home. Those who have a place for my words or my voice inside their heart, you already know or you will soon come to this place. You will discover its completeness, its joy and its fullness. I have come to call you away from suffering, from fear, from a life of sorrow, into your own divine Being. I have not come to give you any stories so as to excite your imagination or to sign you up for some long course or to call you into some membership. I have come to show you the unchanging and ever-present Truth and to remind you that you are already That, you are not separate, that the sense of separation from God, from Truth, is mere imagination believed into existence. This is how suffering is born. Know it is possible to wake up out of this long dream.

There is no one person on this planet who is apart from the Truth in their heart. The world is so diverse and extreme in its expressions; the greatest good and the greatest evil is here, and in this diverse forest of existence, you must find your way home. Many voices come to call us. I take it we are here together because of the power of God, the power of love and the power of Truth acting upon our hearts. I have not come to call you halfway home, but to call you fully home. I love to watch the beings awakening from the hypnosis of conditioning, from the fear of both death and life, by recognising their true nature.

Heaven is inside your own heart.

Take courage. Being free is neither difficult nor distant. I know it has often been conceived, perceived and presented to be rare, remote and difficult, but all that is delusion—a great seeming. I don’t know why awakening happens in one heart so completely and in another there is some delay or postponement. I am not deeply concerned about this. But I know that the voice that calls you is true, and where you are being called to is real and true. Heaven is inside your own heart. This is why I am here.

I don’t delight in the imaginary. I need nothing from your past. This is not how I know you. I don’t know you through your story. I know you through your heart—through your own divine Being. It is all that really corresponds with me, and it is my true connection with you—not a connection formed through ideology or philosophy, but a connection with the living power of God. It is this that I respond to, and it is only this that I know. I can only remind you; I can only point to that. The rest must somehow come from you in response to my pointing in order to complete this yoga of true understanding.

Sometimes, a feeling of tiredness, lethargy and resistance comes, and I want you to be aware of that. Do not fight with that, but rather keep your attention in the place that I have been pointing to—the silence of being.

It is not I who makes satsang successful at raising the beings from the sleep of ignorance of the Self to the bright joy of awakening; it is us together—you bringing forward your own truthfulness, your own deep yearning and your thirst for righteousness. It is this that causes everything to come alive, to sparkle with new possibilities. In my view, there is nothing higher in the human kingdom than discovering our divine nature. As everything else is perishable, find that which is imperishable, and fall completely in love with That.

Don’t go to sleep until the night of ignorance disappears forever. Remember, the light, peace and presence of the Lord shines inside your heart eternally.

White Fire Book CoverThis is an excerpt from White Fire: Spiritual Insights and Teachings of Advaita Zen Master Mooji, published by New Harbinger Publications. Copyright 2017.

Artists of Life

By Mark Matousek, author of Writing to Awaken—available now!

I was leading a writing retreat in Italy recently when one of the students—a professional psychologist, longtime practitioner of Buddhism, and would-be memoirist—posed a question that’s frequently asked: Why is writing a spiritual practice?

She seemed both curious and skeptical. I’d been talking about Writing to Awaken, my teaching method and recent book, and the discovery I made thirty years ago that writing is a spiritual practice as powerful as meditation, yoga, prayer, or any contemplative tradition I had encountered. Transformational writing focuses on telling the truth, probing profound questions about who we are, and discovering the meaning of our lives. Like all forms of spiritual practice, Writing to Awaken requires introspection, quiet, and patience—mindfulness, too—as well as the faith that by looking at oneself in the mirror of the page, one comes to see not only her depths, but also her connection to something larger than herself.

My dubious student seemed unconvinced. “You’re using the term spiritual loosely, I presume.”

I assured her that while she found it ludicrous to put writing and meditation on the same level, it was not exactly a new idea. For millennia, seekers (including writers) have followed the Delphic Oracle’s injunction to “Know thyself.” Some have devoted themselves to prayer. Others have used ritual practices (yoga, sitting, pilgrimage, etc.). Another group of enlightenment-minded seekers has been drawn to the ancient art of self-inquiry in verbal form, on paper, in dialogue, or both.

A century after the birth of Christ, the Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius wrote in The Meditations, “You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.” Two centuries later, in Confessions, Saint Augustine lamented, “Men go abroad to wonder at the heights of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of the rivers…and they pass by themselves without wondering.” This long tradition of questioning, and using the page as a stage for self-revelation, for undoing the knots of human existence and reaching beyond them to insight, has continued without pause to the present day.

I related as much to my skeptical student, which seemed to satisfy her for the moment. What I did not add were the healing benefits of writing that mimic spiritual practices, including meditation. In laboratory experiments, expressive writing has been proven to lower stress, strengthen the immune system, increase mindfulness, and enlarge our capacity for empathy and compassion. These are also the qualities an artist brings to her work.

When you tell the truth, your story changes. When your story changes, your life is transformed.

All forms of creative expression are spiritual and healing in nature, in fact. If the purpose of spirituality is liberation, to open and connect us to the greater whole, then any creativity in us is bound to overlap with the spiritual impulse. A writer is a seeker who uses language; a painter is a seeker who uses paint. As long as the creator (lowercase “c”) remembers that it is spirit that’s driving her quest, then her work will reflect that divinity—that spark of freedom and truthfulness. Whether one creates for others or only for oneself, the calls to creativity and spirituality are more or less identical: to expand beyond the little Me in order to know ourselves better; to become vehicles of beauty and love in the world.

Buy the book from newharbinger.com

Another quality joins creativity and spiritual life: both of them happen in the dark. Each time you sit down to write, or engage in any creative endeavor, you step into the unknown. You place a wary toe into the Void and enter that fruitful darkness (the “cloud of unknowing”). Longtime seekers are well aware that the greatest spiritual growth happens in darkened, difficult times, when it feels like nothing is happening and all you want to do is give up. It is just when “unknowing” hits its darkest point that the light tends to appear on its own, the heart lifts, and the spirit reveals something unexpected. Thomas Merton, the Benedictine monk, wrote, “Prayer and love are learned in the hour when prayer becomes impossible and the heart has turned to stone.”

The same goes for creativity, which only comes from not knowing; the minute a person thinks she’s a master, she ceases to be an artist. The true artist is always beginning, awaiting surprises; she never forgets that the work is practice—nothing less and nothing more—and that creating is its own reward. The seeker recognizes, too, that each step toward wisdom is worth the discomfort, because the path is its own reward, promising to keep one engaged with life, dissatisfied with a surface existence, and aware that spirit is always creative.

That’s how writing saved my life: by giving me entrée to myself, providing a place where I could drop the mask and see myself as I really was. When we learn to tell the truth, whatever the medium, we never see ourselves the same way again. The mirror cracks and the light gets in. That’s why I like to say, as I have in Writing to Awaken, “When you tell the truth, your story changes. When your story changes, your life is transformed.”

On the final day of our retreat, the skeptical student broke down in tears while reading a piece in front of the group, describing her troubled family life. “I’ve never told that story before,” she admitted to her fellow writers, adding that her heart “felt lighter for having put this story down on paper.” Now, she could see her own lies, she said, and maybe even do something about them.

What could be wiser—more awakened—than that?

Mark Matousek is author of two award-winning memoirs, Sex Death Enlightenment and The Boy He Left Behind. He has collaborated with Sogyal Rinpoche, Andrew Harvey, and Ram Dass, and has contributed to numerous anthologies and publications. A popular lecturer and writing teacher, Matousek is on the faculty of the New York Open Center and the Esalen Institute (among others), and has presented twice at the Science and Nonduality (SAND) conference. His workshops, classes, and mentoring have helped thousands of people around the world, focusing on personal awakening and creative excellence through self-inquiry and writing.