The Oxygen Mask

It’s perhaps the most famous safety announcement of all time - “Put on your own oxygen mask first.” It’s also a widely used metaphor for what to do in a crisis.

Here in the land of individualism and meritocracy, we Americans tend to take this metaphor to heart; at least the first part of the statement. Generally speaking, our interpretation seems to be “me first.” Full stop.

Regardless of the carrier you fly, the oxygen mask announcement essentially states: “Please place the mask over your own mouth and nose first, before assisting others.” The gist is, “If you can’t breathe, you’re of little use in helping your child, loved one, or fellow passenger.” But the message is not akin to simply stating, “save yourself.”

The implication is clear: In case of emergency, once you’re breathing correctly, your next responsibility is to help anyone else in need. Yes, save yourself, then get busy saving others.

Many of us talk about the “taking care our ourselves first” part, but we’re not always as comfortable with the assisting others part. If you’re a parent or travel with family members that may require help, you likely think about this safety instruction differently. But the reality is, no matter who we are, we are all ultimately on the journey together.

The homeless, the addicted, the conspiracy theorist , the immigrant (legal or otherwise), and even the privileged among us - they are all fellow passengers and helping them get “oxygen” is our moral responsibility.

One of the infamous statements of last year’s protest movement is, “I can’t breathe.” These three words have become a rallying cry and if you look closely, there are many among us who are also saying this sentiment in some way, shape, or form.

The homeless person is essentially saying, “I can no longer stand on my own two feet.” The addicted individual is really saying, “I am traumatized and will do anything to escape.” The jobless and economically disadvantaged are basically saying, “I can barely keep my head above water.” Those that have suffered abuse, neglect, and racism are in effect saying, “I am wounded and devastated.” Even some prosperous individuals can feel so disconnected at times they feel “homeless.” In essence, many of the poor, deprived, oppressed, and brokenhearted among us cannot breathe - in some cases, literally.

I don’t know what it’s like to be homeless or the victim of racism. I’ve never been destitute, incarcerated, or addicted to an illicit substance. But I do know what it’s like to have a broken heart. I can tell you first hand, having your heart shattered feels a lot like not being able to breathe. In that way I can relate.

If we’re willing, most of us can relate to heartbreak, shame, or trauma and once you can relate to and empathize with others, it’s easier to breathe. As the adage goes, once we’re breathing properly, we can start assisting those that are having difficulty doing so on their own.

We are increasingly a divided society and many seem to only want to help those that think, look, or vote like they do. This is seen in our political discourse where some decry “America first” while others seek to “cancel” those that don’t follow their rules, have a different opinion, or have made a past mistake.

It’s understandable that when we feel threatened, we look to protect our own. But such thinking is also short-sided and outdated in the construct of the world we now inhabit. If climate change, the COVID-19 virus, the new information age, and global economy teaches us anything, these issues tell us that ultimately, there are no real borders. In a global crisis, there is no us and them. In a true emergency, there are no democrats and republicans, rich and poor, or woke individuals and canceled.

I have a friend who uses the hashtag #humanityfirst (thanks for the idea Matt) in many of his posts. He’s right. No one really comes first, humanity does. We are all on this mother ship earth together. We are all fellow passengers and we must stop patronizing, demonizing, and hating the “other” side. The real moral dilemma of our time is when so many of our fellow passengers are suffering and lacking oxygen, what are we doing about it?

I’m sure there are some who are looking at me and saying, ‘that’s a cute little metaphor Eric, but c’mon, it’s a little naive don’t you think?’

No, I don’t. I fundamentally believe that love is the answer and that love doesn’t stop at your front door, neighborhood boundary, prison walls, or national borders. We need to support our neighbors, educate criminals, help the addicted and homeless, and even, dare I say, love our enemies (I read that somewhere).

For those who aren’t spiritually minded please forgive the analogy, but the oxygen mask metaphor also parallels another famous human survival rule – “love your neighbor as yourself.” Have we really stopped lately to think which neighbors? I’m not a theologian, but I am pretty sure the “Golden Rule” refers to ALL of our neighbors. But from my view, much of our current attitude goes something like this: My needs first, then my family, community, and country (or at least the half of the country that agrees with me).

Many feel like the ship is sinking or the plane is losing oxygen at this moment. The state of the country, health of the planet, and the constitution of our collective character all seem to be in a perilous and precarious condition. It’s hard to disagree with this assessment. Things do appear to be drastic and urgent and if the oxygen mask hasn’t dropped for you yet, my guess is it will sooner or later. But if you look closely, the remedy is right there in the airline safety announcement.

Step one. Put on your mask. Love. Forgive. Express gratitude and humility. Breathe.

Step two: Help your neighbor do the same.

Net worth

As I remember my Father who passed away two years ago today, I am reminded of the many enduring lessons he taught me. Above all, that love matters most. Thinking of you Dad, today and every day.

Since he was a young man, my Dad had the goal of having a net worth of a million dollars. 

Throughout his professional life, Dad was tenacious, motivated, and successful, and by the time he was my age, he achieved his goal. But when he got there he invariably asked the question one asks at the top of a mountain - “Now what?” As driven as he was, Dad simply strove for more - the next million dollars, the bigger house, the newer car, the higher mountaintop.

In my career in fitness, I’ve seen this cycle many times - set a goal, reach a goal, find momentary satisfaction (and subsequent disappointment), and then set another goal. Losing weight, running a marathon, or earning a million dollars are all worthwhile pursuits I suppose, but if I’ve learned anything through the years, I’ve learned that there is no “there.” Every peak has a valley and it’s actually those valleys that determine our true net worth.

My nickname for Dad growing up was “The General.” Back then Pop liked to kick ass and take names. He was in charge and didn’t mince words. Like any good commander, he was bound and determined to reach his goals and he almost always did. But The General also lost some tough battles and had some bad luck along the way - markets, timing, and his health had other ideas. It was in that valley of setback and failure that Dad had to wrestle with a much more important question; “what is my true net worth?”

I don’t want to speak for Pop, but I’m convinced that Dad’s financial misfortunes and health challenges actually increased his ‘net worth’ so to speak. 

From my perspective, as Dad aged, he learned that his real worth wasn’t listed on a financial statement, his resume, or determined by what street he lived on. He became less of a general and more of a chaplain. Instead of barking orders and conquering goals, Dad sought to listen more, serve others, and love fiercely. He worked on being a better man - more humble, introspective, and generous. In turn he became less driven, less angry, and less opinionated - well, not less opinionated, but he tried!

Dad’s journey and example made an impression on me but I’ve had to learn the lessons of self-worth on my own terms. When I was in my teens, I put my net worth into being popular so I worked on being funny, well liked, and going with the crowd. When I was in my twenties, I valued being “successful” so worked on being a good corporate salesman and making money. When I was in my thirties, I put my focus on my physique, so I started voraciously exercising, running, and boxing. In my forties, I put much of my stock into my creativity and my spirituality so I dove into spiritual direction, researching, and writing. 

But as Dad experienced, life had other ideas for me than simply reaching goals. As I learned the hard way, failure has had a lot more to teach us than success; failure allows for humility and empathy to open our hearts. 

As I approach 50, my net worth on paper isn’t very impressive. Like the vast majority of people on the planet I don’t have a million dollars (the million dollar benchmark of Dad’s generation has now probably been supplanted by at least two million dollars anyhow). I may never achieve Dad’s financial status, but I know that the bigger question is, what if I do? Then what? I know that this question will never go away with material needs, wants, and desires. 

The truth is that there’s no stack of money big enough. There’s no perfect body, fastest race, or highest mountain. There’s no family loving enough, church righteous enough, or safe haven safe enough that determines your actual worth.

Your net worth isn’t how big your bank account is. It isn’t how many friends you have, your artistic talent, or your charitable and professional legacy. In my view, your net worth isn’t determined by what team you’re on (your political affiliation or your spiritual beliefs). 

When we were young, Dad stressed striving, saving, and success. As I learned, these qualities will inevitably make you more comfortable and likely more popular as a result. But as Dad got older, his actions taught me that your real net worth isn’t about how much comfort you achieve or how much love you receive. Your true net worth is the sum of the love you share.

As I learned from Dad, each one of us has an abundant capacity to express love and love is our one true unlimited resource. Only love will make us whole. 

The Cure for Contempt

I had a panic attack once. It was Halloween night about 10 years ago and as was customary back then, I went to my best friend’s house to join him in taking his kids out trick or treating. At the time, I was starting out in my first marriage and I knew my friend and his wife weren’t supportive of the union. Still, they graciously invited us over to participate in the Halloween festivities.

The trick or treating went fine and the conversations were civil, but there was a strained and forced awkwardness to the evening. I felt a bit off physically and by the time I ended up back home, I turned around and headed straight to the hospital.

My chest had started burning and tightening. I felt light-headed and my breathing was labored and shallow. I felt like a stranger in my own body. At the emergency room, they ran several tests and after monitoring me for a few hours they found nothing concerning. In the middle of the night they sent me home.

The doctors told me that I likely I had a panic attack and/or a severe case of heartburn. Thankfully my physical heart wasn’t damaged, but although I didn’t know it yet, my heart was broken nonetheless.

Over the course of the ensuing months as the tightness persisted, I learned to calm my breathing and remind myself that nothing was physically wrong with me. But all of the yoga, meditation, and breathing exercises still couldn’t solve the dilemma. They say that the body keeps the score and my body knew that something in my “heart” was wrong before I did. That burning in the chest continued until I finally admitted the truth and got to work.

I’ll spare you the details, but in a word my first marriage was utterly contemptuous. After day in and day out of judgment and finger pointing, at some point you cross a line of spite that’s hard to come back from. You almost forget what side you’re on or how it even started; you just know that the ‘other’ person is the enemy.

In my case, I was swimming in a sea of hatred and I was drowning. I went into survival mode knowing that getting safely to shore meant getting rid of the poisonous venom in my heart and removing myself from the relationship.

Contempt is simply not a survivable situation. This is not a theory, but a scientifically validated opinion. John Gottman has been one of the foremost marriage psychologists for decades. He’s published dozens of peer reviewed research papers and written several books on the topic. Gottman’s studies can predict with over 90% accuracy whether couples will stay married or end up in divorce. Much of his work can be paraphrased with the statement: “Contempt kills relationships.”

As I found out the hard way, contempt can end your marriage. I also learned that contempt can literally make you sick. Studies show that those in a contemptuous relationship are more likely to have weakened immune systems and suffer from infectious illnesses. Is it possible that the pandemic we’re suffering through is so widespread partially because of such hatred? It’s worth considering.

Contempt is beyond disgust or distaste. Contempt is a cancer that poisons everything in its path. Contempt doesn’t care if you’ve been victimized, oppressed, or judged. Contempt doesn’t care if you’re “right.” Contempt afflicts the accuser and accused alike. Contempt is hatred, pure and simple. As Dr. Gottman points out, “unions” do not survive hatred - Not marriages, families, organizations, or countries.

When I recognized that contempt in my own heart, I knew it was time for a drastic change. My first instinct was to leave. For those that have ever been in an abusive relationship or a hateful marriage, sometimes you have to put on your own oxygen mask first and make it to safety. So I left my marriage, my job, my hometown, and I started fresh. But leaving was just the beginning.

I still had to get the venom out of my heart and removing the toxins required eradicating the disdain from my consciousness. I stopped drinking for a year, meditated and exercised daily, and started working on spiritual direction. It took a little time, but the poison finally dissipated and left my body and mind.

I hadn’t thought about that burning sensation in my chest for some time until I noticed it rearing its ugly head again recently. I immediately recognized the feeling - tightness, agitation, and a searing heat across my chest. I knew better than to ask my doctor or evaluate my diet. Thankfully, I’m now in a healthy and harmonious marriage, so it wasn’t that. After pondering the feeling, I realized that this time what’s making me literally feel sick is the hatred in my own country.

The primal part of me just wants to flee like I did back when I was surrounded by a wall of contempt in my first marriage. Sometimes I daydream of a sunny beach in Mexico as my next home, but changing locations won’t change the fact that I am an American and love my country. I’ll still have that tightness in my chest even on a beach in Mexico unless I do the work of removing the toxins from my thinking.

Ultimately there’s only one cure for contempt. It sounds a bit trite and pollyannaish to simply say “love, empathy, or understanding.” Truthfully, it’s a pretty tall order to love in the face of hate, seek peace in the face of injustice, or find forgiveness in the face of inequality. But make no mistake, loving, forgiving and letting go is the work. And the moment we say “but what about?” (the economy, the Supreme Court, or whatever your hot-button issue is) we stop doing the work.

There are no issues or exceptions that justify doubling down on contempt, because once you are infected with contempt, you cannot possibly see clearly. Besides, the ignorant and hateful are way better at it than you are. It’s what MLK, Gandhi, and Mandela all understood to be absolute - hate simply cannot stand in the face of love and forgiveness. We must let the ignorance and hate be theirs.

Only love offers the cure for contempt.

The Language of Love

As I have been watching the events and occurrences of this year, I find myself struggling to find the right balance. I feel a yearning to act and to speak out, but I also feel apprehensive at times - like I’m not sure what to say. In reflecting on the volatility of our country and the fragility of life, many unanswered questions come to mind: What’s the right thing to do moving forward? How do we repair wrongs of the past? How do we speak with those with whom there’s seemingly little or no common ground?

What is the right language for this moment?

My late Father taught me that what’s most important isn’t my opinion, what my friends think of me, how I vote, or even how I pray - What matters most is how I love. In short, the “language” I use will define the path I am on and the actions I take.

Though we all have the capacity to speak and demonstrate it, love is a language that is not always our primary expression. Ego, pride, anger, judgment, and regret are voices that sometimes drown out our native tongue.

The truth is no matter what our differences, origins, or opinions, we all have the ability to communicate in a common language of grace, acceptance, and empathy. This language called love reminds me of a powerful story I recall from 20 years ago involving one of my childhood idols, Bono.

As arguably the biggest rock star in the world back in 2001, “Bono” (Paul David Hewson of U2 fame) sat down to lunch with an unabashed racist and narrow-minded bigot.

At that time, there was a global pandemic that was decimating the continent of Africa. As we know by now, pandemics know no borders, but AIDS by the year 2000 was largely controlled, treatable, and preventable in wealthy and developed nations. In poverty stricken Africa however, AIDS was still a death sentence for millions.

Feeling that something drastic needed to be done, Bono decided to throw the full weight of his fame and influence behind the issue. He sought bipartisan support and funding to combat the pandemic. Standing in his way was Republican Senator Jesse Helms.

According to the Forbes article “I will follow”, there was no greater opponent of AIDS funding at that time than Senator Helms. Helms, a conservative evangelical, had harshly spoken out against the LGBT community calling them “perverts” and “weak, morally sick wretches.” He referred to AIDS as “a gay disease.” I won’t even mention his deplorable and toxic views on race.

In response, did Bono galvanize his global base of millions of fans and try to shame Senator Helms out of office? Did he call Helms out as the racist bigot he was? Did he belittle the religious right? Did he encourage his followers to show up at state capitals to protest with guns?

Not exactly. Instead of using his platform to shout back at Helms, Bono invited him to lunch. He then tirelessly met with evangelical leaders and listened to them. He cited Bible versus about poverty and respectfully spoke their language. In learning how to work with his adversaries, Bono commented: “When you have a person who may appear rigidly opposed to something, look for ways to widen the aperture of their narrow idealistic view.”

Elaborating on his response, Bono continued: “I've learned to speak in a lot of tongues, and I can live with the bellicose language of some fervent, fire-breathing Christians...It's not my language, but actually, I don't mind how people come to this, to the front line on this. People have different motivations. I surprise myself [about] how much I've learned from conservatives, not coming from that vein, even conservative Christians whose beliefs I don't share.”

The rest is, as they say, history. Senator Helms became a staunch and vocal supporter of AIDS funding and research. He even became a fan of U2. With global support, Africa in turn has made incredible strides in the fight against AIDS.

Bono’s selfless actions led to significant progress on the global AIDS crisis. But did his efforts also excuse Helm’s blatantly racist and bigoted past? What about justice and punishment? What about being right? After all, while Martin Luther King Jr. preached that, “Only love” (can drive out hate) he also said, “there comes a time when silence is betrayal.”

How and when to speak up and out are fair questions, especially in our current political climate. But as Dr. King stated and as Bono demonstrated in his work fighting the AIDS pandemic, to make real progress and effect lasting change, sometimes you have to meet people where they are at - even if those people are reprehensible in your view.

Still, it’s tempting to see being right as the most important thing. It’s no secret that we all love to be right. We even receive a rush of dopamine when we read something that mirrors our own opinion. Certainly, it’s natural to surround yourself with others that share your beliefs. It’s undoubtedly courageous to speak out and stand for justice.

But only talking to like-minded individuals that share your opinion simply creates an echo chamber, not progress. And drawing a line in the sand isn’t necessarily the same as getting something done.

More than anything right now, we need to speak the language of love. Narrow-mindedness, hatred, bigotry, and selfishness, and aren’t working. While silence certainly isn’t the answer, neither is hatefully shouting back. If your enemy is filled with judgment and hate, let it be their hate. Contempt, racism, injustice, and even apathy will die with those that refuse to let these qualities go. But only love can actually heal these conditions and make rights out of wrongs. Hate simply cannot survive in the face of love.

Look, I don’t know much about the science of global pandemics. I don’t what it’s like to be the victim of senseless racism or blatant discrimination. I can’t comprehend what it’s like to carry the burden of hundreds of years of oppression and persecution. I don’t have the answers to our political dysfunction and I certainly don’t know much about being a rock star or a US senator. But I do know that no matter what the situation is, my job is to listen with humility, stand up for justice, and speak with the language of love. I don’t have all of the answers, but I do know that love is the answer.

Groundhog Day

Lately I’ve been feeling like Bill Murray in the movie Groundhog Day. In recent weeks it’s the same routine, the same uncertainty, and the same boredom day in and day out.

Every night it feels like I’m watching a rerun of the previous night’s evening news - COVID-19, the failing economy, and the anger on both sides of the open or not debate. It’s as if tonight’s news could have been two months ago or two months from now. Like Groundhog Day, life seems to be stuck at a standstill and on auto repeat.

The illusion of feeling stuck in an endless day is enough to drive one mad. As Einstein once said, “The separation between past, present and future is only an illusion, although a convincing one.” Of course, time isn’t really stuck and there is movement, but it’s easy to feel hopeless if you look in the wrong places.

When I have faced vast uncertainty in my life - Losing my job, the end of a close relationship, the passing of a loved one, a global pandemic, two things tend to happen. First, the days get really long and I’m prone to escape these endless hours with distractions and numbing. Secondly, I spend much of my time ruminating and dwelling on the past or future. Looking back, I rehash my missteps and fall into the pratfalls of guilt and shame. When I’m not looking back, I turn my gaze towards the what’s to come. My brain keeps me up at night spinning in a merry go round of yet unanswered questions: “What’s going to happen? Where will I go? What will I do? What if this pain never ends?” The list goes on.

It’s a cycle I have repeated many, many times throughout the years. Then something brings me back to the moment. To the present. To what I have always known – there is only now and love is the answer.

In the movie Groundhog Day when faced with the prospect of having to repeat the same day over and over again, Bill Murray’s character, Phil Connors first embraces his plight by indulging his every desire from binge eating to habitually womanizing. But eventually these distractions lose their allure and Phil becomes despondent, determining that suicide is the only choice left. But even that doesn’t work - the days keep coming. Only love offers him a way out.

Like Phil Connors, when I have felt stuck, I’ve tried almost every trick in the book (minus the robbery and suicide attempts). My indulgences range from comfort food to cold beer; YouTube clips to endless scrolling on my phone. At some point my wife inevitably pleads with me to put the phone down and be present.

It’s good advice. It’s really the only advice - There is only now, use it wisely.

Remember when you were a little kid? Your parents would tell you it was only three weeks until your birthday or three months until the family trip to Disneyland. You’d wake up every day asking, “is today the day?” But three weeks might as well have been three years to a three year old. As a small child you had no concept of time. There is no yesterday or tomorrow, only today.

As adults many are inclined to trade the wonder of living in the present for the tug of war between blissful memories and wishful thinking. We internalize regret and mull over the paralyzing uncertainty of the future. To cope with this loop of hope, fear and remorse, we tend to form “busy” lives with jobs, families, and activities.

Only discipline or a crisis breaks this cycle of busyness. The discipline of mindfulness allows you to see the truth about time and a crisis forces you to reevaluate how you use it. Sometimes a crisis is necessary to wake us up and ground us on a new foundation. Sometimes discipline is necessary to remind us what we already know - there is only now, use it wisely.

This year Punxsutawney Phil did not see his shadow and predicted an early spring. While temperatures have stayed generally above average, ironically, ‘winter’ still endures for many. Darkness feels prevalent, sickness is in the air, and we yearn for the new beginnings of spring.

I’m guessing this moment likely isn’t your favorite moment. This pandemic has brought a lot of primal fear, anger, and dysfunction to the surface. In response, maybe you’re looking back pining away for the good old busy days. Maybe you’re using your time now swimming in a sea of distractions: surfing, scrolling, and binging. Or maybe you’re up late at night paralyzed with fear about the future. 

In these present circumstances, sometimes life feels like Groundhog Day. Add in a heavy dose of fear and uncertainty and the choices can feel limited - escape the present, wish for the past, or hope for the future. All seem like reasonable choices given the climate of quarantines, protests, and social distancing.

I can’t blame you for looking back, escaping the present, or worrying about the future. I’m certainly guilty on most days. But then I remember that I only have one job - to love - my Maker, my neighbor, and myself.

Love is an activity that is only available in the present. As Phil Connors learned in that classic movie, sandwiched between meditating on the past and an imagined future, the present ultimately offers no choice but to love. When faced with immense hatred, the tumultuous Sixties, and the vast uncertainty of the future, Martin Luther king Jr. said, “We have before us the glorious opportunity to inject a new dimension of love into the veins of our civilization.” We too have this glorious opportunity.

Whether it’s real life or a movie script, the futile effort of trying to escape the moment only exacerbates our circumstances. The past is merely an unreliable memory, the future is yet an unknown mystery, and the present offers us the opportunity to go deeper and to love. There is only now, use it wisely.

The problem with perfection

Most of us have a pretty good idea what perfection looks like. Maybe we can see it, taste it, or even clearly define it. Perhaps we can even make a list citing various examples like:

• Sitting on a throne of $100 bills and never having to worry about money again.
• A flawless body complete with a chiseled mid-section and toned arms.
• A new sports car.
• A decadent meal at a three-star Michelin restaurant.
• A first-class trip to Europe.
• Michelangelo’s David, da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, or Pearl Jam’s Ten record.

A pristine sandy beach in Mexico with a cold drink in my hand probably tops the list for me. But whatever word, phrase, or picture you use to define perfection, it’s undoubtedly a person, place, or thing. And by definition, moments in time and material objects are ultimately temporary. Even if momentarily possible, the concept of a flawless state is fleeting. Perfection is a myth.

The origin of the word perfect is the Latin perficere “accomplish, finish, or complete” and we often use the word as a verb, meaning “to bring to full development.” However, the connotation of being complete for us as human beings is a faulty one, because there is really no such thing…just birth, death, and the in between. And while some celebrate birth as an example of perfection and others look to death for the possibility of salvation, the in between is what matters.

My grandfather used to sometimes talk about the most “successful” people he knew growing up in New York City. One was the loyal beat cop who walked his neighborhood in Yorkville and the other was a cheerful train conductor who always made it a point to learn the names of everyone on his route. Neither of these men had money, worldly possessions, or had achieved the pinnacle of professional achievement. But according to my Grandpa, each man had found true success because they displayed a genuine sense of contentment and happiness – what you might call peace of mind.

Sadly, though my Grandpa could tell a great story, he couldn’t bring into being what he knew in his heart to be truthful. Instead, his own version of success looked like the typical American interpretation - amassing money, rubbing elbows with the rich and famous, and finding your name in print somewhere. Driven by a deep sense of perfectionism, my Grandfather won prestigious awards, made a lot of money during his life, and knew a lot of distinguished people. But those perfect ideals didn’t last - He died brokenhearted, alone, and ironically, broke.

In the movie The Jerk, the character Navin (Steve Martin), thought he had made it because he finally found his own name printed somewhere important...in the phone book! Similarly, many of us also incessantly ‘look for our own names’ – the validation of likes on social media, the accolades that come with climbing the corporate ladder, or the ego stroke of the perfectly crafted selfie.

The quest for perfection is an exhausting, non-stop pursuit of trying to get ‘there,’ presenting the ideal picture, and playing the game. Even many of those who are spiritually-minded view the concept of perfection as achieved in a far-off destination called heaven.

The problem is that we live in the here and now and the only way to get there is to be here. While the teachings of the great faiths in humanity clearly relate to the present, some mistake these teachings as a private club that promises a magic kingdom of transcendence that's accessible only in the future.

To seek perfection is ultimately a road to nowhere. Planning for a future paradise gets us bogged down in a checklist of ideals and pursuits - a crusade for a perfection and bliss that seems both within our grasp and yet unattainable. This expanding expectation and desire for euphoria down the road puts the possibility of present perfection out of reach – heaven can wait.

While there is such a perfect locality, it’s not a place, destination, or object, but a state of consciousness – an awareness and openness that’s actualized by a much more important word than perfection or even salvation. That word is love.

In the Bible, it says that there are only three things that truly last: “faith, hope, and charity (love).” The Bible is also clear that the greatest of these virtues is love (1 Corinthians 13:13). Whether you believe in God, read the Bible, or think all that exists is this material world, deep down we all know that we’re here to love one another, and by one another, that means everyone – those of different faiths, beliefs, colors, and creeds. Instead of perfection, we should be seeking inclusion and compassion. Especially at this point in human history, what matters right now is love.

To be perfect is an illusion driven by a primal desire to feel necessary and validated. But satisfying the need to be needed can only be fulfilled through humility by surrendering to the present. The Beatles famously sang the lyrics, “All you need is love.” They were right. It’s abundantly clear that we need a lot less perfectionism and a lot more grace and charity. We’re all imperfect beings, but we are also all blessed with the unlimited capacity for displaying the perfect human characteristic, love.