Indra's Net

Purpose has been on my mind now for the last few weeks. I was reading an article by Stephen Cope, director of Kripalu's Institute for Extraordinary Living, as well as an author on many books about yoga. In the article, he explains the concept of Indra's Net, which at its very basic interpretation asserts that all things, all people are interconnected. It is our soul's duty to find our singular purpose, and manifest that purpose, our gift to the world. In doing so, we hold together our part of Indra's Net, and as Cope puts it, "the whole universe holds together as one great interlocking field. But it only hangs together if each of us plays our particular role."

He also says, "the gift is often paired with a wound. Strangely, our greatest strength (and greatest possibility) seems to be routinely paired with our greatest limitation--even our greatest wound. They were born together like twins. This means that many of us must discover our gift in the very heart of our suffering, our difficulty, our struggle. The Eastern contemplative traditions have a poetic way of saying this: our gift is like the lotus that is born out of the mud."

And yet, I wonder, does it have to be that heavy? Must there be a wound? Must there be such a hefty price to pay for one's calling? I'm reading My Life In France by Julia Child and in it she writes, "Those early years in France were among the best of my life. They marked a crucial period of transformation in which I found my true calling, experienced an awakening of the senses, and had such fun that I hardly stopped moving long enough to catch my breath."

Indeed! Shouldn't finding one's calling be as lovely and luscious as eating boeuf bourguignon and charlotte aux pommes? Or whipping them up amid the romance and perfume of Paris?

Maybe it's because Julia was so lighthearted that her calling came to her in such a lighthearted way. I love how she describes herself: "I was a six-foot-two-inch, thirty-six-year-old, rather loud and unserious Californian." (Has anyone ever known a serious Californian? And really, when you're a six-foot-two-inch woman, I imagine that a good sense of humor comes in handy.)

I truly believe that everything boomerangs: what you give out is what you get back. If you're giving out good humor and sunshine it comes sparkling back at you. If your mindset is one of anxiety and lack, then that's all you'll see around you is anxiety and lack.

I've been troubled by friends who seem to speak in a language of complaints when in reality, they've gotten everything they've ever wanted. Perhaps its because they are so unsatisfied with their circumstances, their jobs, their children, their homes, their health, that ironically it is their indignation that actually forces them to take the action necessary to make their dreams come true. (There is the wound that goes hand in hand with one's calling, I suppose.) But if given the choice to be unhappy and complaining all the time--and have everything I've ever wanted--or to be contented and generous with where I am in this moment--and still seeking--I am choosing the later. You all know I've spent enough time complaining on this blog, and quite frankly, the gloominess is boring. (Though I have tried to make it entertaining!) Look, we don't read novels and memoirs about folks who tediously grumbled their way to achieving their hearts desires. We root for large, almost oafish six-foot-two women with strange falsetto voices, who despite all odds, find their most authentic expression in all that is delicate, delicious, et tres charmant.

Nope, not boring at all.