FOUR decades ago, when I was in my teens, I was quite rebellious. Once, after a heated argument, my mom and dad warned me to watch out, 'cause once I had kids, they would be like me.
Now, sitting here, listening to the instrumental version of The Sound of Silence on Spotify, I think about one particular sore point between them and me. I used to question my mom and dad when they forbade me from doing something I wanted to do that I felt justified to do.
I used to ask: what is the meaning of life then, if all I can do is follow what they’ve set for me and I can’t do anything except obey?
Of course, no matter how much they told me they just wanted what was best for me, I couldn’t look past the seemingly endless restrictions.
Yes, I admit, I was a nightmare.
Yes, I also admit, I promised myself I would be a totally different kind of parent so I wouldn’t feel the heartache my mom and dad went through... still, I turned out well, didn’t I?
Now, sitting here, emoting to music, faced with what appears to be an insurmountable pandemic, I can not help but ask the same question from Divine Intelligence, what is the meaning of life then? What is the purpose of all this?
With all the restrictions — can not travel, have to wear the face mask and those eye-crossing face shields, can not be with friends, cannot do this, go there — there are moments when I feel that wave of frustration about to engulf me.
Are we just supposed to wait until Covid gobbles up the whole world — because the end doesn’t seem to be in sight — and I can’t help but feel this — this desire to rebel against what I’ve learned.
I’m tempted to cry buckets and give in to the grief that seems to be the predominant collective consciousness for now.
What are we doing? Where is the wisdom to all these?
Briefly, I think about the news, economies failing, hospitals full, covid numbers multiplying.
Confusion is everywhere, it’s like a waiting game. Is it going to be a matter of when one gets the virus, not if he gets it?
But then, I take a deep breath, savoring the inhale, remembering the Dammarathana in Mihintale, Sri Lanka, the way his face lit up, rapt with awe, as he focused on his intake, expelling his breath slowly...
I return to the present moment, an epiphany hits me.
Maybe this is what it is.
Appreciating the breath. Realizing that with every breath we take, we affirm our existence.
I focus on the stillness. Just breathing. Grateful I’m here. Relishing the connection.
I realize how precious is the air we breathe in.
For us to be able to inhale the exact amount of oxygen, and hydrogen and nitrogen, stars had to explode, dinosaurs had to be extinct, there had to be the right timing.
Maybe this is what must be done. We just need to quiet our minds, stop focusing on the ravages of Covid and its tentacles, and look instead at the Divine order.
Right timing. Sunrise. Sunset. Perfect timing. The earth revolving precisely in its orbit around the sun. Jupiter sized just right to protect our Earth from being obliterated by asteroids. Our distance from the sun just right so we neither fry nor freeze.
In such a well-ordered universe there can be no accidents. We have to accept that the collective consciousness created this. And keeps creating what we see.
We can uncreate it.
We just need to trust that the Divine Intelligence taking care of the universe will take care of us. We just need to deepen our connection.
Energy follows thought. The more we give our attention to what we are afraid of, the more it multiplies. Isn’t the growing number of variants and restrictions and deaths proof enough of the law of attraction?
The more we resist, the more it persists.
We need to pause. Savor the inhale. Breathe. Connect. Trust.
The Bible says: “Be still and I am there.”