A	Course	in	Miracles
	states	that	love	restores	reason	and
not	the	other	way	around. Sometimes	the	value	of	a	liaison	with	a	younger	person	is	that	they	remind
us	we’re	not	dead	yet. They	bring	energy	like	the	sun	breaking	through,	after
too	much	fog	and	rain	had	made	us	think	that	the	light	might	not	ever	return. They	bring	the	sun	because	they	still	
are
	the	sun. Having	not	yet	experienced
their	own	late	afternoon,	they	don’t	trigger	the	grief	you	feel	over	what
happened	during	yours. A	relationship	might	not	be	something	that	lasts	a	lifetime,	but	that	doesn’t
mean	it’s	not	a	temple	experience. The	sanctity	of	a	connection	is	determined
by	how	much	respect	and	honor	we	show	it. People	are	drawn	to	people
whom	they	can	learn	from,	and	intimacy	is	a	deep	learning. Years	together
can	be	a	deep	learning,	and	three	days	in	Paris	where	all	you	do	is	eat	and
sleep	and	make	love	and	pray	and	talk	about	everything	that’s	ever	happened
to	you	can	also	be	a	deep	learning. The	only	thing	that	ruins	that	one	is	when
someone	doesn’t	know	how	to	let	what	happened	in	Paris	be	simply	that. It
takes	a	high	level	of	spiritual	as	well	as	emotional	evolution	to	be	able	to	go
deep	with	someone	with	whom	the	connection	is	best	kept	limited	in	time. I’m	not	justifying	casual	sex	here;	the	sex	in	this	case	would	be	anything	but
casual. This	isn’t	that	“what	happens	in	Vegas	stays	in	Vegas.”	It’s	that	“what
happens	in	Paris	stays	in	our	hearts	to	bless	us	forever.”
And	by	the	way:	if	it	happened	in	Las	Vegas,	that’s	okay,	too. T
HERE	ARE	MANY	MANSIONS	IN	THE	ROMANTIC	HOUSE	OF	LOVE
. The	exchange	is	uniquely
wonderful	with	someone	who	knows	the	lyrics	to	the	same	songs	you	do. I
think	of	one	who	has	walked	the	path	with	me	when	it	was	smooth	and	when
it	was	rocky,	when	it	was	cool	to	know	me	and	when	it	was	cool	to	put	me
down,	when	I	was	laughing	like	a	loon	and	when	I	was	crying	like	a	child. He
is	the	one	who	has	
seen
	me. That	is	the	ultimate	value,	I	think,	of
relationships	that	move	through	the	years	without	dissolving. Someone	bears
witness	to	your	life. You	don’t	experience	yourself	in	a	vacuum;	someone	else
knows	your	story. They	were	as	excited	as	you	were	when	something
marvelous	happened	to	you,	and	they	never	said,	“I	told	you	so,”	when	youdid	something	stupid	you	would	later	regret. They	have	faith	in	the	longer
narrative	of	your	life. They’ve	seen	you	grow	from	your	losses	as	well	as	your
wins. The	key	to	long-term	relationships	is	letting	someone	be	different	today
than	they	were	yesterday. I	think	one	of	the	main	reasons	for	divorce	is	that
couples	don’t	always	create	the	emotional	space	between	them	to	allow	for
constant	and	continuous	change. When	people	say,	“We	grew	apart,”	it’s	often
a	sign	that	when	they	entered	the	marriage,	their	emotional	contract	didn’t
include	this	clause:	“I’ll	let	you	grow. You’ll	let	me	grow. We’ll	learn	from
each	other,	and	we	can	grow	together.”
At	midlife	we	all	need	to	shed	our	skin	and	grow	a	new	one. The	soul
hungers	for	a	chance	to	expand	itself. The	tragedy	between	partners	is	when
they	don’t	know	enough	to	honor	this	need,	recognizing	that	it	carries	within
it	a	chance	to	regreen	the	relationship. I	once	knew	a	man	who	left	his	wife	because	he	felt	that	he	couldn’t
become	
himself
	in	the	marriage. He	felt	that	he	couldn’t	find	his	manhood
within	the	context	of	their	connection,	as	if	she	took	up	too	much	of	the
oxygen. He	felt	that	in	leaving	her,	he	was	going	through	a	male	initiation	of
sorts. Then	and	only	then	could	he	become	the	man	he	wanted	to	be. But	I	felt	in	observing	them	that	perhaps	the	truest	initiation	into	his
manhood	would	have	been	if,	within	the	context	of	the	marriage,	he’d	owned
his	own	power	enough	to	simply	tell	her	to	back	off. A	real	man	does	set
boundaries. A	real	man	does	demand	his	own	psychic	space. A	real	man	does
not	let	a	woman	dominate	or	control	him. But	a	real	man	
claims
	all	that	for
himself;	he	doesn’t	just	slink	away	and	call	leaving	his	marriage	some
assumption	of	male	power. Sometimes	marriages	are	simply	over—the	maximum	opportunity	for
learning	has	occurred,	and	it’s	time	to	let	go—but	sometimes	people	leave	for
no	other	reason	than	that	their	spouses	aren’t	providing	them	with	what	only
they	can	provide	for	themselves. The	fact	that	a	relationship	is	reminding	you
that	you’re	not	strong	enough	yet	isn’t	of	itself	a	
bad
	thing. It’s	part	of	the
value	of	the	relationship	that	it’s	showing	you	to	yourself. Moving	on	to
another	situation	where	you’re	stuck	in	the	same	pattern	but	can	easily
pretend	you’re	not	has	never	in	my	experience	provided	clarity	or	strength. I’ve	gained	a	lot	in	my	life	from	moving	on,	when	moving	on	was	the	call
of	my	soul. I’ve	gained	just	as	much	from	staying	in	the	struggle	with	self
while	standing	still,	when	my	soul	made	it	clear	that	this	was	where	Ibelonged	for	now	…	that	the	real	problem	was	not	with	him	but	with	you-
know-who. And	it	is	incredible,	once	you’ve	made	the	breakthrough	or	made
the	change,	when	the	person	in	front	of	you	is	the	same	one	who	was	there
before. I	once	had	a	relationship	with	a	man	who	told	me	often,	“You’re	so	hard	to
please.”	It	was	an	ongoing	issue	that	became	a	major	one,	as	I’d	always	find	a
way	to	create	a	problem	where	there	didn’t	have	to	be	one. I	got	the	point	and
sought	to	address	within	myself	why	I	was	behaving	in	such	a	self-defeating
way,	why	I	was	so	invested	in	that	drama	and	so	forth. I	asked	for	God’s	help,
tried	to	snap	out	of	it,	and	modified	my	behavior	as	best	I	could. One	day
many	months	later,	I	asked	my	friend	for	another	serving	of	half-and-half	in
my	coffee,	to	which	he	responded	laughingly,	“You’re	so	hard	to	please.”	I
had	made	it. I	had	changed. And	he	was	still	there. Dear	God,
I	surrender	to	You	my	relationships. Please	purify	my	thoughts	about	them,
so	only	love	remains. In	this,	and	in	all	things,	dear	God,
may	Your	will	alone
be	done. Amen
*I	told	him	about	a	book	called	
Advice	to	a	Young	Wife	from	an	Old
Mistress,
	and	shared	with	him	how	much	I	had	learned	from	psychologist	Pat
Allen	in	Southern	California.Chapter	Eight
A
BRAHAM	,	
M
ARTIN,	AND
J
OHN
W
ith	the	attack	on	the	World	Trade	Center	on	9/11,	anyone	who	needed	to
grow	up	and	basically	hadn’t	done	it	yet,	did. The	prolonged	post-adolescence
of	at	least	one	generation	ended	at	last. On	that	day,	the	music	died. And	now	what	will	we	do? Everyone	I	know	is	waiting	for	the	world	to
change. It’s	unbelievable	how	far	we’ve	fallen. In	the	1960s	we	listened	to	the	likes
of	Bobby	Kennedy	and	Martin	Luther	King,	Jr.,	articulate	the	vision	of	an
America,	and	a	world,	delivered	to	its	highest	possibility. We	provided	music
that	was	a	perfect	soundtrack	to	their	dreams,	singing	“All	You	Need	Is	Love”
at	political	rallies. It’s	true	that	many	of	us	were	stoned	out	of	our	minds	at	the
time—but	we’re	not	now,	and	that	means	something. It	might	have	taken	us
40	years,	but	we’ve	finally	matured	to	the	point	where	we’re	ready	to
manifest	dreams	we	embraced	a	long	time	ago. What	took	us	so	long? Why	40	years? What	stopped	us? More	than	anything,	I	think,	murder	stopped	us. The	voices	of	Bobby
Kennedy	and	Martin	Luther	King,	Jr.,	along	with	the	four	students	at	Kent
State	University,	were	silenced	violently	and	abruptly	right	in	front	of	our
eyes. Those	bullets	weren’t	just	for	them;	psychically	they	were	for	all	of	us,
and	we	knew	it. The	unspoken	message	of	those	assassinations	could	not	have
been	louder. There	would	be	no	further	protest. We	were	to	go	home	now. We
could	do	whatever	we	wanted	to	do	within	the	private	sector,	but	were	to
leave	the	public	sector	to	whoever	wanted	it	so	much	that	they	were	willing	to
kill	in	order	to	control	it. And	leave	it	alone	we	did. A	generation	with	as	much	talent	and	privilege
as	any	that	has	ever	walked	the	earth	poured	the	majority	of	our	gifts	into
private	concerns—mostly	things	of	ultimate	irrelevance—while	mostly
leaving	the	political	sphere	to	others. And	for	a	few	decades,	that	seemed	towork. America	can	be	likened	to	a	house,	in	which	many	of	us	ran	to	the
second	floor	(art,	spirituality,	careers,	
fun
)	and	left	the	downstairs	(traditional
politics)	to	less	inspired	thinkers. We	kidded	ourselves	that	it	was	an	okay
arrangement,	until	those	of	us	on	the	balcony	began	to	smell	the	unmistakable
odor	of	a	house	burning	down. Shouldn’t	someone	about	now	be	yelling,	“Fire!”? Collectively,	our	script	has	been	returned	to	us	for	a	rewrite. We	get	another
chance	to	determine	the	end. The	first	time	around,	we	allowed	ourselves	to
be	silenced. It	remains	to	be	seen	if	we	will	be	silenced	now. Dear	God,
At	this	time	of	global	peril,
may	I	be	a	conduit	of	Your	miracles. Heal	me	that	I
might	heal	others,
and	help	bring	forth
a	more	beautiful	world. Amen
D
URING	HIS	SECOND	TERM	IN	OFFICE
,	President	Bill	Clinton	proposed	a	national
conversation	about	race. People	tried	their	best	to	live	up	to	the	proposition,
but	soon	enough	the	idea	seemed	to	fizzle. From	a	transformational
perspective—one	that	recognizes	the	importance	of	psychological,	emotional,
and	spiritual	factors,	as	well	as	material	ones—this	came	as	no	surprise. You
can’t	have	a	real	“conversation”	about	race—one	that’s	authentic	and
meaningful,	with	any	hope	of	real	breakthrough—unless	some	of	the	people
involved	have	a	chance	to	express	anger	that’s	been	built	up	over	hundreds	of
years. Having	led	spiritual	support	groups	for	more	than	20	years,	I’ve	had	a	bit	of
experience	facilitating	the	kind	of	sacred	space	that	allows	for	deep
conversation. A	unique	energy	must	be	brought	forth	in	such	groups,	ensuring
the	emotional	safety	and	well-being	of	all	its	participants. Most	of	us	have	felt
this	kind	of	energy	in	therapy,	during	religious	ritual,	or	what	have	you. It’s	a
distinctly	different	vibration	from	normal	conversation,	stemming	from	a
different	set	of	brain	waves.When	Mary	was	looking	for	her	son	Jesus,	she	found	him	in	the	temple. And	there	was	a	reason	for	that. No	soul	finds	any	soul	except	in	sacred
space. Within	that	space,	all	is	revealed—total	communication	is	given	and
received,	and	miracles	occur	naturally. Until	we	reach	that	depth	of	dialogue
within	ourselves	and	with	others,	there	can	be	no	deeper	breakthroughs
regarding	our	most	urgent	problems. What	will	
not
	solve	today’s	problems	is
conventional	thought. What	will	
not
	solve	today’s	problems	is	old	tried-and-
no-longer-true	formulas. What	will	
not
	solve	today’s	problems	is	endless
attack	and	defense. What	will	
not
	solve	today’s	problems	is	shallow
conversation. What	
will
	solve	today’s	problems	is	new	consciousness,	from	which	will
emerge	new	thinking	and	new	hope. The	planet	needs	a	new	story,	and	so	do
we. Who	would	be	better	to	help	create	a	new	story	for	the	planet	than	those	of
us	who	just	happen	to	be	involved	with	creating	a	new	story	for	ourselves? A
problem	of	midlife	is	the	temptation	to	be	redundant,	simply	imitating
ourselves	by	doing	the	same	things	we’ve	always	done	but	with	less	verve. But	the	pulse	of	the	moment—both	personally	and	globally—is	to	let	go	now
of	what	needs	to	be	let	go,	to	disenthrall	ourselves	of	what	used	to	be,	and
embrace	a	radically	new	kind	of	life. It	is	there	for	us. It’s	there	for	us	as
individuals,	and	it’s	there	for	us	as	a	species. It’s	alive	in	our	imagination,	and
we	can	claim	it	if	we	wish	to. Each	of	us	is	coded	to	play	a	maximally
effective	role	helping	to	change	the	world,	to	the	extent	to	which	we	are
willing	to	
be	changed. I	was	once	privy	to	a	fascinating	moment	at	a	private	party,	where	I	saw	the
musical	producer	and	performer	Babyface	sit	strumming	a	guitar	and	singing
his	song	“Change	the	World,”	while	former	mayor	of	Atlanta,	UN
ambassador,	and	civil-rights	legend	Andrew	Young	sat	a	few	feet	away,
listening	and	staring	out	into	the	distance. One	man	sang	of	wanting	to	change
the	world,	while	the	other	had	memories	of	how	much	he’d	already	tried. Yet
both	received	their	intimations	of	possibility	from	the	same	internal	source,
from	which	all	of	us	should	now	be	drawing	our	inspiration	and	hope. Real	vision	comes	not	from	what	we	see	in	the	past	or	the	future;	it	emerges
from	what	we	see	within. The	soul	is	the	only	safe	repository	for	our	dreams
of	a	reborn	world. It	is	the	soul	that	will	direct	us—no	matter	what	our	age—
to	the	role	we	can	best	play	in	realigning	the	earth	with	the	consciousness	of
heaven. We	have	within	us,	through	an	internal	guidance	system	created	byGod	Himself,	all	the	instructions	we	need	in	order	to	midwife	a	new	world. Both	our	temporal	and	eternal	selves	are	programmed	perfectly	for	what	we
need	to	do	now. And	I	do	mean	now. Dear	God,
Please	prepare	me,
heart	and	soul,
to	bring	light	into	darkened	times. Amen
H
ISTORY	MOVES	FORWARD	ONE	INSIGHT	AT	A	TIME
. From	the	Jewish	embrace	of	a
monotheistic	God	to	Buddha’s	vision	of	compassion;	from	the	teaching	of
Jesus	that	God	is	love	to	Martin	Luther’s	insistence	that	we	can	talk	to	Him
ourselves;	from	the	individual’s	creative	genius	spurred	by	the	Italian
Renaissance	to	the	philosophical	maturity	of	the	European	Enlightenment;
from	the	genius	of	the	American	Experiment	to	the	invention	of	quantum
physics—the	march	of	armies	is	creatively	small	compared	to	the	march	of
ideas. And	that	is	the	purpose	of	time,	for	both	the	individual	and	the	species:
that	as	life	progresses,	our	understanding	can	mature. All	of	us	take	two	steps	forward	and	one	step	back	at	times,	but	there	is
nevertheless	an	evolutionary	impulse—within	every	heart,	every	cell,	and
every	aspect	of	life—marching	ahead	despite	all	resistance. Our	task	is	to
consciously	conspire	with	that	impulse,	in	full	partnership	with	the	force	of
love	at	the	center	of	all	things,	entwined	with	its	divine	pulsation	and	heat,
both	riding	and	directing	the	wave	by	which	humanity	shall	rise	up	at	last. I
T’S	AMAZING	HOW	MANY	PEOPLE	TODAY
	do	not	take	it	for	granted	that	the	planet	will
survive	the	next	50	years. Whether	from	weather	disasters	or	military
misadventures,	there	are	so	many	ways	we	could	be	destroyed. Rationally,	this	is	certainly	true. But	spiritual	power	is	nonrational. That’s
not	to	say	it’s	
irrational;
	just	nonrational. It	springs	forth	from	a	quantum
field	not	limited	by	mortal	circumstances. The	catastrophic	possibilities	that
threaten	the	world	today	reflect	who	we	have	been	until	now,	and	they’ll	stay
the	way	they	are	for	as	long	as	we	stay	the	way	
we
	are. The	possibility	for	a
miraculous	change	in	global	affairs	reflects	the	possibility	for	miraculous
change	in	us.Spiritual	transformation,	not	human	manipulation,	is	the	only	level
fundamentally	deep	enough	to	alter	the	now	dangerous	trajectory	of	human
history. We	can’t	just	“fix”	our	way	out	of	what’s	going	on	now. We	need	a
miracle,	which	we	will	only	have	if	we	ourselves	become	miracle	workers. Miracles	occur	naturally	in	the	presence	of	love. In	our	natural	state,	we	
are
miracle	workers	because	love	is	who	we	are. Talk	about	personal
transformation—the	journey	from	fear	to	love—is	not	a	narcissistic	exercise. It’s	not	fuzzy	thinking	or	soft-brained	New	Ageism. It’s	the	most	necessary
component	to	our	re-creating	human	society	and	affecting	the	course	of
history. The	problem	with	the	world	is	that	we’ve	been	torn	from	our	original
nature. Torn	from	ourselves,	we	become	addicts. Torn	from	each	other,	we
become	abusers. Torn	from	the	earth,	we	become	its	destroyers. And	that	tear
—a	separation	from	our	divine	oneness—is	not	a	metaphor. It	is	not	a	symbol. It	is	a	literal,	vicious,	insidiously	progressive	disease	of	the	human	spirit. It	is
force
. And	it	has	at	its	command	the	same	sophisticated	level	of	mental
operating	skills	as	does	the	better	part	of	us. It	is	our	dark	side,	and
underestimating	its	sway	is	naive. I	gave	a	talk	once	where	I	mentioned	the	word	
evil. A	woman	then	stood	up
in	the	back	of	the	room	and	said,	“I	don’t	believe	in	evil. Where	some	see
evil,	I	see	wounding	and	pain.”	I	told	her	that	the	the	pain	she	refers	to	is
often	the	
cause
	of	evil,	absolutely. But	I	don’t	understand	where
acknowledging	the	cause	involves	denying	the	effect. Were	the	witch-burnings	not	evil? Is	genocide	not	evil? Are	children	having
their	throats	slit,	or	being	bought	and	sold	as	sex	slaves,	or	having	their	limbs
cut	off	one	by	one,	not	evil? Is	a	man	tied	up	in	his	basement,	forced	to	hear
the	sounds	of	his	wife	and	daughters	raped	repeatedly	and	then	set	on	fire,	not
evil? Where	do	we	get	this	notion	that	it	could	somehow	be	“spiritual”	to
minimize	evil? As	a	student	of	
A	Course	in	Miracles,
	I	certainly	understand	that	in	Reality,
all	that	exists	is	love. But	the	planet	we	live	on	is	
not
	ultimate	reality;	it	is	a
mass	illusion,	as	powerful	in	its	effects	as	is	the	truth. And	here,	in	this
collective	illusion,	what-is-not	love	still	holds	sway. The	ego,	according	to	
A
Course	in	Miracles,
	is	suspicious	at	best	and	vicious	at	worst. The	miracle	minded	are	not	naïve	about	darkness;	we	don’t	just	carry
around	cans	of	pink	paint	and	pour	it	over	everything	so	we	can	pretend
things	are	fine. We	can’t	invoke	the	dawn	if	we	deny	that	night	occurred.What	could	possibly	serve	darkness	more	than	people	failing	to	realize	its	sly
and	insidious	nature? A	serious	grown-up	is	not	someone	who	looks	away
from	the	pain	of	the	world;	a	serious	grown-up	is	someone	who	sees	the	point
of	our	lives	as	committing	ourselves	to	healing	it. That,	in	a	way,	is	what	our	generation	had	to	learn. In	a	part	of	the	world
where	we	had	it	so	easy,	perhaps	we	subconsciously	manifest	our	own	private
hells	to	make	sure	we	would	finally	wake	up	to	the	hell	of	so	many	people
elsewhere. Maybe	we	needed	a	bridge	in	Minnesota	to	fall,	so	we	could	begin
to	imagine	what	it	feels	like	to	have	your	city,	your	country,	your	bridges,
your	hospitals,	your	markets,	your	schools,	and	your	children	bombarded
every	single	day. Perhaps	we	will	come	collectively	to	the	place	many	of	us	have	been	in	the
privacy	of	our	own	hearts,	crying	out	with	horror,	
“Oh	my	God,	what	have	we
done? !”
Then,	in	a	moment	of	genuine	sorrow	for	ways	we	have	behaved	so
irresponsibly,	we	will	begin	to	atone	as	a	nation,	and	as	a	civilization,	in	the
way	that	so	many	of	us	have	atoned	as	individuals. We	will	recognize	that	we
were	wrong,	surrender	our	souls	to	God,	and	pray	fervently	for	another
chance. Dear	God,
Please	forgive	us	for	the	wounded	earth,
and	the	needless	suffering	that
afflicts	its	people	today. Intercede	on	behalf	of	our	better	selves
and	repair	the	damage	done. Replace	our	fear	with	hope,	dear	God,
and	turn	all	hate	to	love. Amen
D
ESCARTES	SAID
,	“I	
THINK,	THEREFORE
	I	
AM
.”	The	way	I	see	it,	I’m	connected	to	God,
therefore	I	am. Without	my	faith,	I	feel	that	I’d	be	nothing	but	a	disconnected
array	of	thoughts	and	feelings	without	any	sense	of	true	meaning	or	purpose. I	don’t	mean	that	without	my	religion	I’d	be	nothing—although	I	think	Iwould	be	less. I	mean	I	derive	my	emotional	security	from	my	belief	that	I’m
not	alone	in	the	universe—that	I’m	supported	by	what	Martin	Luther	King,
Jr.,	called	“cosmic	companionship.”	I	can’t	imagine	how	cold	this	world	must
feel—particularly	these	days—for	those	who	have	no	larger,	otherworldly
context	for	their	human	existence. Without	a	spiritual	perspective,	I	don’t
know	how	people	do	it. Every	once	in	a	while,	people	ask	me	what	I	think	I	would	have	done	with
my	life	if	I	hadn’t	found	
A	Course	in	Miracles. I	usually	mention	Edina	on	the
British	TV	comedy	
Absolutely	Fabulous. If	you	haven’t	seen	it,	trust	me—not
a	pretty	sight. Like	that	character,	some	people	get	stuck	in	life,	circling	over
and	over	to	the	same	old	spots	because	they	can’t	find	the	door	to	another
realm	of	options. Most	of	us	at	one	point	or	another	can	relate	to	that. All	I
know	is	that	the	only	escape	for	me	has	been	a	door	I	cannot	open	by	myself. In	college,	I	took	classes	where	I	read	books	about	philosophical	states	of
“ennui,”	a	sense	of	isolation	in	the	universe	and	existential	despair. But	at	that
point	in	my	life	I	couldn’t	fully	appreciate	what	any	of	that	meant. It’s	only
with	the	passage	of	years,	as	each	layer	of	worldly	illusion	falls	away	before
your	eyes,	that	you	come	to	appreciate	an	otherworldly	constant. Unless	you
have	contact	with	a	higher	power,	the	lower	ones	can	really	do	you	in. And	once	you’ve	gotten	old	enough,	you’re	not	too	proud	to	ask	for	help. I’m	amused	when	I	hear	someone	say	that	faith	is	just	a	crutch. I	figure	if
your	leg	is	broken,	then	it	would	be	nice	to	have	that	crutch. And	you	only
use	it	until	you’re	ready	to	get	back	on	your	own	two	feet. Relying	on	God
doesn’t	mean	that	you’re	relying	on	something	outside	yourself. It	means	that
you’re	relying	on	the	Truth	of	All	Things,	a	higher	power	whose	throne	is	not
out	there	somewhere	but	inside	your	heart. You’re	relying	on	the	power	of
compassion	and	nonjudgment. You’re	relying	on	objective,	discernible	laws
of	the	universe;	faith	that	love	produces	miracles	is	no	different	from	faith
that	gravity	makes	things	fall. If	I	have	a	choice	between	relying	on	a	divine	Creator	or	relying	on	the
false	powers	of	a	confused	and	pain-filled	world,	then	I	choose	the	former
anytime. Sometimes	when	I	wake	up	in	the	morning,	I	can	feel	my	soul	reach
up	to	God,	my	mind	uttering	phrases	such	as	
All	I	want	is	the	peace	of	God
before	I	even	reach	for	the	
A	Course	in	Miracles
	workbook	that	I	keep	next	to
my	bed. I’m	hardly	some	contemporary	version	of	Saint	Teresa,	mind	you—
I’m	just	exhausted	from	a	life	of	searching	for	anything	but	the	be-all	and
end-all. My	soul	has	been	thrown	against	so	many	rocky	cliffs,	and	I	finally
realized	I	was	the	wind. Who	else	but	God	could	calm	the	tempest	in	mysoul? And	I	have	a	feeling,	having	been	calm	for	certain	moments	and	certain
hours	and	certain	days,	that	what	happens	when	I	achieve	that	state	is	not	just
useful	to	me,	but	to	Him	as	well. At	least,	that	is	what	I	pray	for. E
VERY	PROBLEM	IS	A	CHALLENGE	TO	BECOME
	a	better	person. Imagine,	then,	what	we’re
being	challenged	to	become	in	order	to	turn	history	around	at	this	time. What
quantum	leap	will	transition	us	from	the	level	of	consciousness	at	which	we
created	our	problems	to	a	level	of	consciousness	at	which	we’re	able	to
miraculously	solve	them? Who	is	it	we	are	destined	to	be,	that	in	our	presence
the	dense	thought-forms	of	hate	will	simply	drop	away? That’s	what	is	so	exhilarating	about	this	moment. Given	that	God	has	an
answer	to	every	problem	the	moment	it	occurs,	then	there	exists	in	His	mind
an	absolute	plan—a	blueprint	for	our	salvation—already	etched	in	full	upon
our	hearts. According	to	that	plan,	we’ll	be	individually	and	collectively
redeemed	and	set	upon	a	new	path	of	evolution. All	the	old	notions	will	die
away,	and	the	human	race	will	remember	at	last	that	we	were	conceived	in
love;	we	are	here	to	love;	and	one	way	or	another,	we’ll	remember	to	love. One	of	the	most	important	things	that	any	of	us	can	do	to	help	the	world	are
to	pray	and	meditate	consistently. Prayer,	according	to	
A	Course	in	Miracles,
is	the	conduit	of	miracles. It	changes	us,	and	through	us,	the	entire	world. No
one	who	prays	and	meditates	consistently	doesn’t	give	a	damn	what	happens. The	first	reason	we	pray	and	meditate	is	to	handle	the	darkness	of	the
world,	strengthening	our	resistance	to	rampant	chaos	and	negativity. In	this
time	of	historical	phase	transition,	many	people	are	experiencing	a	low-grade
panic	they’re	not	even	aware	of. All	of	us	should	surround	ourselves	with	a
shield	of	light,	and	prayer	and	meditation	provide	it. Interestingly,	however,	we	don’t	just	pray	and	meditate	so	we	can	handle
the	darkness. We	do	it	also	so	we	can	handle	the	light. Our	nervous	systems
are	being	bombarded	today	by	forces	of	light	streaming	down	in	response	to
humanity’s	prayers	for	help,	but	a	nervous	system	unprepared	for	such	an
onrush	can	become	overloaded. It	does	us	little	good	if	we	succeed	at	calling
forth	miracles,	yet	are	psychologically	and	emotionally	unprepared	to	receive
them	when	they	arrive. Prayer	not	only	calls	forth	our	good,	but	prepares	us	to
handle	it	once	it	comes. As	Martin	Luther	King,	Jr.,	said,	“[We	need]	a	qualitative	change	in	our
souls	as	well	as	a	quantitative	change	in	our	lives.”	Many	people	say	we’re
being	called	by	the	dictates	of	sustainability	to	live	materially	smaller	lives,and	perhaps	this	is	true. But	spiritually,	we’re	being	called	to	live	
bigger
	lives,
to	which	our	resistance	is	at	least	as	strong. I	once	heard	author	Stedman	Graham	suggest	that	even	the	most
accomplished	among	us	aren’t	yet	living	at	100	percent. His	point	lingered
with	me. I	wondered	where	the	other	20	percent	is	if	we	feel	that	we’re	only
living	at	80. Does	it	exist	on	a	shelf	somewhere	as	pure	potentiality,	waiting
to	be	brought	down	when	we’re	ready	to	make	it	manifest? Was	it	put	in	a
corner	of	God’s	Mind	for	safekeeping? And	if	we	open	the	flood	gates	to	our
full	potential	now,	do	we	get	to	retrieve	whatever	possibilities	we	failed	to
manifest	over	the	last	30	years? When	we	don’t	grow	in	certain	areas,	we	can	experience	a	kind	of	“flat
line”	while	those	around	us	gradually	climb	as	in	a	diagonal	line	on	a	graph. Yet	once	we	awaken	to	whatever	awareness	returns	us	to	the	natural	arc	of	our
soul	growth,	we	make	a	direct	vertical	ascent	to	the	place	we	were	supposed
to	be—where	we	
would
	have	been,	had	we	not	tarried. This	often	happens
when	people	get	sober;	all	of	a	sudden,	positive	energy	springs	forth	that
they’d	suppressed	during	the	years	they	were	using. Even	if	you’re	not	an	addict,	just	by	living	in	this	society	you’ve	been	privy
to	an	addictive	system. President	Bush	was	right	when	he	pronounced
America	to	be	“addicted	to	oil”	(and	probably	a	few	other	things	as	well),	and
the	dysfunctional	patterns	spawned	by	that	addiction	extend	like	tentacles	into
all	our	lives. If	a	parent	is	an	alcoholic,	his	or	her	children	carry	the
psychological	weight	of	the	addict’s	unprocessed	issues. If	someone	steals	a
presidential	election,	the	citizens	of	the	country	carry	the	psychological
weight	of	that	guilty	secret. If	a	nation	invades	another	country	for	control	of
its	oil,	then	its	citizens	bear	the	collective	karma	and	resulting	guilt	of	being
involuntary	accomplices	to	what’s	now	euphemistically	called	“regime
change”	but	in	ancient	times	would	have	been	more	aptly	referred	to	as
“pillage	and	plunder.”	These	forces	and	many	others	have	played	on	our
psyches,	suppressing	the	emergence	of	our	better	selves. No	wonder	so	many
of	us	have	gotten	depressed	or	emotionally	checked	out. These	are	very,	very
critical	times. It’s	time	to	get	emotionally	and	psychologically	sober	now	…	to	awaken
from	the	stupor	of	the	last	few	decades. To	claim	the	percentage	of	our
potential	that	we	haven’t	yet	manifested	and	go	for	that	100	percent. The	race
is	on. This	is	it. Let’s	pray. Let’s	go. O
UR	PROBLEM	ISN’T	THAT	WE	DON’T	THINK	LOVE
	is	an	important	thing;	our	problem	isthat	we	don’t	think	it’s	the	
most
	important	thing. There	are	lots	and	lots	of
distractions	out	there. But	something	happens	when	you’ve	lived	through	enough. Children
suffering	needlessly	…	kids	going	off	to	war	…	people	dying	of	hunger	in	a
world	of	plenty—lesser	issues	begin	to	pale	in	comparison. A	day	comes
when	you	look	at	the	news	and	say,	
What	the	hell	are	we	doing?! It’s	horrible	to	contemplate,	but	terrorists	know	what	
they’re
	doing. I	can’t
imagine	a	kind-of,	sort-of,	when-it’s-convenient,	casually	committed	terrorist. Terrorists	have	an	agenda,	that’s	for	sure,	and	they’ll	do	whatever	it	takes	to
further	it. Yet	our	biggest	problem	isn’t	just	that	a	relatively	few	people	hate
with	conviction;	it’s	that	not	enough	of	us	
love
	with	conviction. With	every	thought	of	love,	we	participate	in	the	creation	of	a	unified	field
of	exponentially	greater	possibility	for	everyone. When	a	butterfly	flaps	its
wings	near	the	tip	of	South	America,	it	affects	the	wind	patterns	near	the
North	Pole. And	the	same	is	true	in	the	realm	of	consciousness:	Every	miracle
you	work	in	your	life	is	a	blessing	on	life	itself. A	couple	of	years	ago	the	Amish	of	Pennsylvania,	who	eschew	all	worldly
power,	showed	us	all	what	love	really	is. If	the	world	survives,	I	credit	them. When	some	of	their	little	girls	were	bound	and	shot	dead	by	a	crazed	gunman,
they	forgave	him. Let	me	repeat	that:	They	
forgave
	him. On	that	day	our
entire	country	knew,	without	a	doubt,	that	we	were	in	the	presence	of	the	real
thing. Hard-boiled	newscasters	and	commentators,	who	don’t	get	humble	and
authentic	and	sincere	for	anybody,	got	humble	and	sincere	and	authentic	as
they	reported	this	story. According	to	
A	Course	in	Miracles,
	all	minds	are	joined. No	mind	could	be
apprised	of	the	Amish	reaction	to	their	enormous	tragedy	and	not	be
transformed. By	their	own	demonstration	of	grace,	the	Amish	graced	us	all. Our	souls	were	touched	not	only	by	their	grief	but	by	their	spirituality	as	well. By	holding	to	the	light,	they	transcended	darkness	…	and	not	just	for
themselves. A	truer	crucifixion	of	the	Christ	could	not	occur,	nor	a	truer
resurrection	either. And	in	the	case	of	Jesus,	as	well	as	his	true	disciples	the
Amish,	millions	more	were	lifted	up. Love	is	to	fear	what	light	is	to	darkness;	in	the	presence	of	one,	the	other
disappears. When	enough	of	us	stand	in	the	light	of	true	love—not	a
simplistic	love,	but	the	strong	and	extraordinary	love	of	God—then	all	war
will	cease. But	not	until	then. Until	enough	of	us	learn	to	love	as	God	loves,
creating	a	force	field	of	holiness	to	purify	the	earth	and	dissolve	its	evil,	thenwe’re	going	to	continue	our	march	toward	planetary	disaster. Love	
is
	the
answer. Yet	look	at	how	terrifying	that	thought	is	to	the	ego. We	find	that
notion—that	love	is	our	salvation—more	frightening	than	war,	do	we	not? We
resist	it	more	than	we	resist	nuclear	disaster. And	why? Because	the	love	of
which	I	speak	is	one	that	would	transcend	the	ego,	and	the	world	we	live	in	is
the	ego’s	delight. The	ego	knows	that	by	embracing	love,	we’re	destroying	
it. But	those	are	our	only	choices,	really:	the	ego	will	survive,	or	we	will. N
OT	EVERYONE	HAS	MONEY	OR	WORLDLY	POWER
,	but	all	of	us	have	equal	capacity	to
think,	intend,	and	pray	with	conviction. Love	is	an	ever-renewable	spiritual
resource. We	wouldn’t	have	to	worry	so	much	about	the	state	of	the	world	if
we	felt	more	universal	agreement	among	us	that	we’ll	all	do	whatever	we	can
to	heal	it. No	matter	who	we	are,	we	have	things	we’re	supposed	to	do	to	fulfill	the
calling	of	our	souls. But	the	soul’s	calling	isn’t	a	broad	revelation	that	will	be
written	in	large	letters	across	the	sky. Rather,	it’s	a	challenge	to	be	the	person
we’re	capable	of	being	in	any	given	moment. We	never	know	what
conversation	or	encounter	could	lead	to	what,	as	long	as	we’re	showing	up	for
it	as	best	we	can. God’s	universe	is	itself	one	big	loving	intention,	and	when
you	align	your	own	intentions	with	His,	you	set	in	motion	a	kind	of	wind	at
your	back. Hatred	and	fear	don’t	have	this	cosmic	support;	while	they	have	power,
they	don’t	have	
spiritual
	power. And	they’re	spiritually	powerless	when
confronted	by	a	genuine	love. There	are	terrible	things	in	the	news	today,	but
as	much	darkness	as	there	is	out	there,	there	is	more	love	
in	here. Perhaps
that’s	what	the	bigger	problems	of	the	world	are	here	for,	in	some	way:	They
challenge	us	to	dig	deeper	into	ourselves	for	who	we	really	are	and	how	we
might	choose	to	live	differently. Martin	Luther	King,	Jr.,	said	that	it’s	time	to
inject	a	new	kind	of	love	into	the	veins	of	human	civilization. That	love	
is
rising	up	today. It’s	a	new	kind	of	thinking,	a	great	turning	of	the	heart. In	every	area—from	medicine	to	education	to	business	to	media	to	politics
to	the	arts—there	are	people	expressing	new,	more	enlightened	modes	of
being	and	behavior. And	each	of	us,	no	matter	who	we	are,	can	align
ourselves	with	a	better	idea. Whether	it’s	something	as	simple	as	using	a
different	kind	of	lightbulb	in	response	to	global	warming	or	working	to
rebuild	a	neighborhood	school,	joining	in	a	group	meditation	or	forgiving
those	who	have	trespassed	against	us,	we	can	participate	in	a	new	wave	of
creation. When	we	consciously	dedicate	ourselves	to	creating	a	more	lovingplanet,	then	that	which	is	not	love	will	fall	of	its	own	dead	weight. And	when	all	of	this	comes	together,	the	world	will	change	in	the	twinkling
of	an	eye. Dear	God,
I	place	the	world	in	Your	hands. Please	use	me
to	make	things	right. Amen
Chapter	Nine
W
E	
A
RE	THE	
W
ORLD
P
articularly	as	we	get	older,	our	spirits	as	well	as	our	bodies	need	more	quiet
time,	more	reflection,	more	immersion	in	the	magic	of	just	
being. That
doesn’t	mean	we’re	retreating	from	the	world,	so	much	as	we’re	moving	into
a	deeper	experience	of	it. For	the	world	is	in	fact	a	whole	lot	bigger	than	what
we	see	with	our	physical	eyes. Part	of	the	value	of	the	aging	process—and	I
did	say	that,	yes:	the	
value
	of	the	aging	process—is	that	it	delivers	us
naturally	to	realms	in	which	we’re	not	quite	so	tethered	to	the	realities	of	the
material	world. It’s	not	so	much	that	we’re	“losing	it”	as	that	we’re	
finding
	it. I	find	it	utterly	liberating	to	have	forgotten	certain	things;	thank	
God
	I	forgot
them! And	that’s	not	to	minimize	scary	monsters	such	as	the	fear	of
Alzheimer’s. It’s	just	to	keep	some	of	our	changes	in	perspective. I	don’t	think	as	quickly	as	I	used	to,	I’m	sure	of	it. Nor	do	I	speak	as
quickly	or	move	as	quickly. But	it	seems	to	me	that	I	
think
	more	deeply. It’s
like	I	understand	things	in	the	round. I	
WOKE	UP	ONCE	TO	A	LATE-NIGHT	EPIPHANY	THAT	SHONE
	like	a	neon	pronouncement:	that
the	key	to	human	salvation	lies	in	our	living	for	each	other. I	know,	I	know. Hardly	new. But	at	the	moment	it	came	to	me,	it	seemed	big	and	profound. Obviously	we’ve	all	heard	the	concept	before,	but	aren’t	we	stymied	by
what	it	actually	means? Does	it	mean	that	we’re	supposed	to	give	all	of	our
possessions	to	the	poor? How	does	that	work	in	terms	of	our	worldly
responsibilities? Are	we	not	supposed	to	have	a	home	for	our	children? Aren’t
we	supposed	to	provide	for	them? And	is	it	bad	to	enjoy	nice	things? In	
A	Course	in	Miracles,
	it	says:	“To	have,	give	all	to	all.”	But	sometimes
you	look	at	the	material	world	and	think,	
Well,	surely	it	can’t	mean	that…	. The	line	I	heard	in	my	head	that	night	was	not	“Give	away	everything	you
own.”	It	was	“Live	for	others.”	And	I’ve	wondered	what	the	world	would
look	like	if	we	did. We’ve	been	so	thoroughly	programmed	to	look	out	for	number	one,	asthough	“me”	is	so	much	more	important	than	“we.”	But	the	shift	from	living
for	ourselves	to	living	for	others	is	clearly	the	spiritual	imperative	calling
humanity	back	to	the	garden. What,	then,	about	healthy	boundaries? Does	living	for	others	mean	I’m	to
give	everyone	everything—as	in	my	time,	my	energy,	my	money,	my	heart? I’ve	tried	to	do	that	…	be	the	paragon	of	self-sacrifice	…	never	having	time
for	myself,	making	myself	wrong	for	wanting	to	take	care	of	me,	always
running	around	trying	to	please	or	do	for	others. And	it	got	me	nowhere. If
anything,	it	left	me	angry,	resentful,	vulnerable	to	thieves,	and	feeling	much
more	stuck	in	a	rut	on	my	spiritual	path	as	opposed	to	being	sped	up	on	it. Wrecked	half	the	time,	I	rarely	showed	up	as	my	best	for	anyone. Healthy	boundaries	
are
	loving;	they	show	respect	both	to	the	person	who
sets	them	and	to	the	person	who’s	asked	to	honor	them. I	think	it’s	best	to
seek	a	balanced	life,	at	peace	with	ourselves	and	our	own	loved	ones;	then
when	we	do	turn	our	attention	to	the	world,	we	can	bring	so	much	more	to	it. We	bring	a	higher	version	of	ourselves. According	to	
A	Course	in	Miracles,
	sacrifice	has	no	place	in	God’s
universe. Taking	care	of	ourselves	in	a	righteous	way	
is
	meaningful	service	to
a	greater	task	because	we	cannot	give	what	we	cannot	be. From	that	space	of
peace,	and	the	moderate	behavior	it	produces,	comes	more	than	enough
money	and	time	and	energy	to	give	to	the	world. Service	is	very	serious	work,
but	codependency	it	is	not. So	how,	then,	do	we	live	for	others? The	best	I	can	come	up	with	is	that
service	is	a	way	of	being. It	means	I	can	make	the	person	who	just	carried	my
bags	into	the	hotel	room	feel	how	much	I	truly	appreciate	what	he	did	for	me. Tip	him	generously	as	well,	of	course,	but	match	the	tip	with	an	attitude	of
honor	for	what	he	does. Both	are	important. It	means	that	in	any	moment,	as
part	of	my	spiritual	practice,	I	can	do	what	I	can	to	show	love	and	respect	for
the	person	in	front	of	me,	or	on	the	phone	with	me,	or	whatever. Most	of	us	have	more	contact	with	other	human	beings	each	day	than	we
might	realize,	and	with	every	encounter,	there’s	a	chance	for	a	miracle. There’s	the	person	behind	the	counter	when	you	bought	your	coffee. The
person	on	the	phone	when	you	made	that	call	about	getting	your	dryer
serviced. The	person	who	washes	the	windows	in	your	office	building. It
might	not	seem	like	much,	this	tiny	little	droplet	of	compassion	added	to	the
universe	when	you	show	up	more	kindly,	but	the	important	point	is	not	what	it
did	for	the	universe. The	point	is	what	it	did	for	
you
—it	changed	
you
—and
that	is	how	it	shifts	your	world.Holiness	is	determined	by	a	shift	in	purpose. Anything	we	do	that	honors
only	ourselves	is	simply	a	spiritual	dead	end. There’s	no	cosmic	blessing
supporting	it. But	anything	done	with	others	in	mind—even	if	it	involves
caring	for	ourselves	so	we	can	be	more	prepared	and	available	for	service	to
others—carries	the	blessing	of	a	loving	universe. Consider	a	vacation,	for	instance. It	betters	you	to	give	your	body	and	mind
a	rest	every	once	in	a	while. A	holiday	increases	the	healthy	bonds	among
partners,	mates,	friends,	and	family. The	principle	of	service	doesn’t	require
you	to	avoid	joyous	opportunities;	if	anything,	joyous	people	are	more
productive. The	more	you	care	for	the	world	around	you,	the	more	the
universe	is	likely	to	provide	the	rest	that	feeds	your	soul	and	keeps	you	going. There’s	time	for	fun,	and	there’s	time	for	work. The	relationship	between
the	two	seems	to	be	a	pattern	within	all	natural	systems;	you	can	feel	it	in
your	gut	whether	you’re	on	or	off	track. When	your	life	is	all	fun	and	no
work,	you	feel	unclean	somehow. When	it’s	all	work	and	no	fun,	you’re	out	of
balance	and	hardly	of	use	to	anyone. In	fact,	it’s	because	the	problems	of	the
world	
are
	so	serious	that	we	need	to	do	whatever	it	takes	to	lighten	up
sometimes. One	of	the	ways	you	know	you’re	in	the	flow	is	if	you’re
seriously	of	service	and	seriously	enjoying	yourself	at	the	same	time. It	feels
right	because	it	
is
	right. At	the	deepest	level,	our	needs	are	all	one. I
N	THE	LAST	FEW	YEARS	WE’VE	SEEN	AN	INTERESTING	TREND
:	The	“second	career”	has
become	a	new	buzz. People	who	have	spent	20,	30,	or	40	years	achieving	one
thing	then	take	up	something	else. What	used	to	be	seen	as	retirement	age	is
now	seen,	if	the	person	wishes,	as	simply	career	Phase	Two. Rather	than
thinking	of	the	second	career	as	an	anticlimax	or	“just	a	little	something	I	do
to	stay	busy,”	people	end	up	seeing	the	first,	perhaps	more	flashy	work	as	a
prelude	to	something	more	important	that	they’re	meant	to	be	doing	with	their
lives. They	view	achievements	that	were	the	height	of	their	material	success
to	have	been	preparation	for	an	even	greater	success—the	means	by	which
they	learned	the	skills	they’d	ultimately	need	to	make	their	biggest
contribution	to	the	world. The	new	midlife	becomes	a	time	when	the	
Sturm	und	Drang
	of	our	more
youthful	years	is	alchemized	into	the	highest	manifestation	of	our	talents:
something	useful	not	only	to	ourselves	but	to	others. It	might	take	ten	years	to
discover	how	to	build	a	business	and	then	another	ten	to	learn	how	to	be	the
most	compassionate	human	being—add	ten	more	to	find	out	how	to	be	the
best	mate	or	parent,	and	somewhere	around	our	50s	or	60s	we’re	ready	to	liveour	most	shining	lives. From	people	who	have	hated	their	jobs	for	decades	and	now	burst	free	at
last	to	live	their	true	calling	to	those	who	have	loved	their	careers	but	still
reach	for	something	more	meaningful	in	midlife	or	beyond,	something	is
happening,	making	it	clear	to	everyone	that	closing	shop	is	not	the	pulse	of
this	moment. An	interesting	example	of	the	second-career	phenomenon	is	Bob	Daly—
who,	after	serving	as	the	chairman	and	CEO	of	Warner	Bros.	for	19	years,
decided	to	resign	and	eventually	became	chairman	of	the	board	of	Save	the
Children. Having	achieved	a	job	that	by	modern	American	standards	would
be	considered	the	height	of	success,	he	now	defines	“success”	in	a	more
expanded	way. Daly	lived	the	American	dream	and	then	added	to	it. He	started	his	career
right	after	high	school,	working	in	the	accounting	department	at	CBS	for	its
lowest-paying	job	of	$41	a	week. Progressing	from	there,	he	lived	out	the
career	fantasies	of	a	generation. Loving	television,	he	ended	up	running	a
television	network. Loving	movies,	he	ended	up	running	a	movie	studio. Loving	baseball,	he	eventually	bought	a	piece	of	the	Los	Angeles	Dodgers
and	ran	it	for	years. Yet	clearly,	he	says,	the	best	is	what	he’s	doing	now. Daly	says	that	he’s	never	looked	back,	never	wondered	if	he	made	the
wrong	decision	by	leaving	the	pinnacle	of	the	corporate	world. Save	the
Children	has	opened	him	up	to	a	world	he	knew	nothing	about. Most	people,
he	says,	know	neither	the	scope	of	suffering	among	the	children	of	the	world
or	the	scope	of	the	humanitarian	efforts	to	save	them:	“You	see	a	few	clips	on
TV,	but	you	don’t	really	know. Once	you’re	in	the	room	with	people	who
have	been	doing	this	their	whole	lives,	who	have	decided	from	college	that
money	would	not	motivate	them,	you	just	think,	
These	people	are	so	special. “I	made	plenty	of	money	in	my	life,	and	I	was	very	happy	and	had
tremendous	satisfaction,”	he	continues. “But	this	might	be	the	most	rewarding
thing	I’ve	ever	done.”	He’s	getting	what	he	calls	more	“psyche	income”	now,
with	the	satisfaction	of	knowing	that	he’s	using	his	prodigious	managerial
strengths	to	help	alleviate	the	suffering	of	children	around	the	world. Daly’s	departure	from	Warner	Bros.	caused	a	debate	among	his	friends:
“They	understood	my	wanting	to	go	run	the	Dodgers. But	this…	? Some
people	understood,	but	some	people	thought	I	was	insane.”
Bob	Daly	is	part	of	a	new	trend—among	his	peers,	his	fellow	Americans,
and	his	contemporaries. From	those	who	give	time	as	volunteers	to	those	whogive	vast	amounts	of	money,	there	is	a	growing	realization	that	each	of	us
needs	to	do	what	we	can	to	address	humanity’s	most	urgent	problems. Daly
senses	something	good	in	the	air:	“Charity,”	he	says,	“has	become	chic.”
And	that	is	a	very	good	thing. A	new	tide	of	humanitarian	passion	is	on	the
rise,	as	a	sleeping	giant	of	a	generation	has	begun	to	awaken,	registering	with
alarm	that	while	it	slept,	huge	problems	were	brewing. A	50-year-old	today	might	have	20,	30,	or	even	40	good	work	years	left. We	still	have	time. But	this	is	a	moment	on	the	planet,	if	ever	there	was	one,
when	all	hands	are	needed	on	deck. And	it’s	not	just	young	hands,	with	their
physical	power,	that	are	needed. Also	needed	are	the	hands	of	those	who	are
guided	by	the	wisdom	only	years	can	bring. If	we’re	anywhere	near	midlife
today,	we	carry	within	us	a	memory	of	a	time	when	the	world	we	live	in
seemed	more	full	of	hope. That	hope	is	missing	now,	and	our	job	is	to	restore
it. At	the	beginning	of	2007,	I	had	the	thrill	of	attending	a	New	Year’s
celebration	in	honor	of	the	opening	of	Oprah	Winfrey’s	Leadership	Academy
for	Girls	in	South	Africa. Oprah	often	quotes	Emily	Dickenson’s	line	of	“I
dwell	in	Possibility.”	Clearly	she	does,	opening	greater	spaces	of	possibility
for	millions	of	others	as	well. I	am	one	of	them. And	on	that	visit	to	Africa,
new	doors	of	understanding	were	opened	in	my	heart. While	traveling	in	the	bush,	we	stopped	in	various	places	to	rest. I	will
always	remember	how	we	washed	our	hands:	Imagine	being	greeted	by	a
beautiful	African	woman	in	her	native	clothes,	holding	a	wooden-and-brass
pitcher	and	bowl. You	slightly	reach	out	your	hands	so	that	she	can	pour	soap
on	them	for	you;	afterwards,	she	pours	warm	water	over	them,	the	bowl
catching	the	water	as	it	falls. Washing	your	hands	has	become	something
more	than	that;	it	has	become	some	sensual	ritual	full	of	meaning	and	grace. You’re	receiving	more	than	soap	and	water;	you’re	washing	away	more	than
your	physical	dirt. If	the	woman	had	been	washing	my	feet	or	I’d	been
washing	hers,	I	could	not	have	felt	more	absolved	or	blessed. All	these	years
I’d	been	washing	my	hands,	and	it	was	though	I’d	never	really	known	what	I
was	doing. One	day	after	a	safari	ride,	having	heard	a	priestess	call	us	home	to
humanity’s	cradle	(“Your	umbilical	cord	is	buried	here”),	we	were	treated	to	a
spectacular	feast	under	a	tent	lit	by	candlelight. Someone	at	my	dinner	table
mentioned	how	the	kings	and	queens	of	old	African	tribes	had	been	the	first
to	be	taken	into	slavery. I	looked	around	at	the	other	guests,	including	some	of
the	leading	artistic	and	cultural	figures	of	contemporary	African-Americansociety,	and	I	mused	that	they	were	at	least	figuratively	those	kings	and
queens	reincarnated,	come	back	now	to	reclaim	their	connection	to	Africa. The	descendants	of	slaves	had	risen	to	such	prominence	and	glory	that	they
could	return	to	their	ancestral	land	with	privilege	unimaginable	
200	years	ago. As	dinner	ended,	dancers	came	out	to	perform. Gradually	they	magnetized
the	dinner	guests	from	their	seats;	black	Hollywood	stars	began	dancing	with
native	Africans	to	their	native	beats. Lifetimes	loosened	before	my	eyes,	and	I
felt	privy	to	a	genuinely	prophetic	moment. Watching	modern	and	ancient
worlds	share	molecules,	I	felt	God	stretching	out	His	hand	in	what	felt	like	a
final	offer	to	humanity. We’re	being	assigned	a	task	that,	if	performed	well,
carries	such	fundamental	redemption	potential	that	it	will	cancel	out
otherwise	inevitable	and	terrible	consequences	of	our	behavior	as	a	species. I	got	it. I	saw	it. I	heard	it. I	felt	it. A-F-R-I-C-A. There’s	something	about
saving	the	mother	continent	that	will	help	save	her	children	everywhere. Dear	God,
In	these	momentous	times,
please	pave	a	path
by	which	the	world
can	repair	itself
before	it	is	too	late. Use	me,
in	any	way	You	wish,
to	turn	the	dark	into	light..
Amen
T
HE	POVERTY	IN	THE	WORLD	TODAY	IS	STAGGERING
:	350	million	children	in	this	world	go
to	sleep	hungry	every	night. The	amount	of	sheer	human	despair	on	this
planet	makes	the	status	quo	unsustainable. We	are	now	in	the	midst	of	a	great	revolution,	a	quantum	leap	from	one	era
of	human	history	to	another. Things	are	going	to	be	radically	different	over
the	next	few	years,	as	we	will	enter	either	a	new	age	of	darkness	or	a	new	age
of	light. I	remember	when	Barbra	Streisand	used	to	sing	“The	Best	Things	in	LifeAre	Free.”	And	so	are	the	most	powerful	things. Compassion. Reading	to
children. Mercy. Tender	touch. Sweet	thoughts. Forgiveness. Prayers. Meditation. Love. Respect. Peace. These	things	cost	a	lot:	B-52s. Long-range	missiles. Military	helicopters. Tanks. AK-47s. Artillery	guns. Field	cannons. F-16s. Rotary-wing	aircraft. Littoral	combat	ships. Joint	strike	fighters. Artificial	limbs. War. The	chilling	truth	is	that	if	we	do	not	end	war,	war	is	likely	to	end	us. In	the
words	of	Albert	Einstein,	“I	know	not	with	what	weapons	World	War	III	will
be	fought,	but	World	War	IV	will	be	fought	with	sticks	and	stones.”
In	a	world	where	the	means	and	amount	of	means	of	mass	destruction	are
so	extraordinary	(the	destructive	capacity	of	the	entirety	of	WWII	is	like	a
grain	of	sand	compared	to	our	destructive	capacity	today),	war	is	no	longer	a
sustainable	or	even,	in	the	long	term,	
survivable
	option	for	the	human	race. In
the	words	of	Congressman	Dennis	Kucinich,	“We	must	challenge	the	belief
that	war	is	inevitable.”	It	is	the	moral	task	of	our	generation—not	our
children’s	generation	or	their	children’s	generation	(there	is	no	time	for	that)
—to	take	a	stand	for	a	world	that	has	moved	beyond	the	insane,	self-
destructive	militarism	that	dominates	international	relations	today. I	can’t
believe	that	even	now,	American	leaders	are	talking	about	war	like	it’s	a	little
boy’s	set	of	Legos. In	truth,	war	only	creates	victims. The	people	who	are	killed	are	victims
and	the	people	who	are	sent	to	do	the	killing	are	victims	as	well. Post-
traumatic	stress	means	not	only	the	trauma	of	remembering	having	seen
people	killed;	it	just	as	often	means	the	trauma	of	remembering	
having	killed. War	is	monstrous	and	should	be	seen	as	such. To	go	into	war	as	anything
other	than	a	truly	last	resort,	much	less	for	cooked-up	reasons—or	to	greet	it
with	rallying	cries	like	it’s	a	sports	event—are	the	signs	of	a	nation	having
lost	its	heart,	for	sure,	and	possibly	its	mind. This	attitude	is	not	pacifism	per	se. We’re	living	in	an	era	that	poses	a	new
set	of	questions. Other	generations	could	argue	about	the	moral	validity	of
this	war	or	that	war;	we	don’t	have	the	luxury	of	that	debate. Our	moral
challenge	is	to	move	beyond	war,	period. Some	seem	to	think	that	we	can	continue	to	manufacture	more	nuclear
bombs,	put	weapons	into	outer	space,	create	ever-more-pernicious	methods	of
chemical	warfare,	and	make	further	sales	of	arms	to	other	countries	to	the
tune	of	hundreds	of	millions	of	dollars—not	to	mention	embark	on	further
military	misadventures—without	ultimately	starting	to	lose	our	own	cities	andour	own	people	in	massive	numbers. Such	people	are	either	in	such	denial,	or
so	blind,	or	possessed	of	such	cold	hearts,	that	they	should	never	again	be
endowed	with	either	our	governance	or	our	trust. Anyone	who	doesn’t	understand	the	wave	of	new	thinking	and	enlightened
perspective	that’s	sweeping	the	planet	today	is	someone	whose	time	in	power
should	end. There’s	a	new	conversation	in	the	air,	and	all	of	us	should
contribute	our	voices	to	it	as	best	we	can. It	is	time	to	redesign	the	world—not
along	traditional	economic	geopolitical	lines,	but	along	deeply	humanitarian
ones—in	which	the	amelioration	of	unnecessary	human	suffering	becomes	the
new	organizing	principle	of	human	civilization. It’s	easy	to	laugh	at	baby	boomers	when	we	say	such	things. After	all,	isn’t
that	what	we	said	in	the	’60s? And	what	did	that	lead	to? Well,	it	led	to	the
end	of	one	war,	and	that’s	not	nothing. And	it	arguably	would	have	led	to
much	more,	had	Bobby	Kennedy	and	Martin	Luther	King,	Jr.,	not	died	in	part
for	believing	it. The	mistake	of	the	’60s	generation	wasn’t	that	we	didn’t	have
the	right	goal;	it	was	that	we	didn’t	yet	realize	that	we	ourselves	must	be	the
means	by	which	the	goal	is	achieved. In	the	words	of	Gandhi,	“The	end	is
inherent	in	the	means.”	We	must	
be
	the	change	we	want	to	see	happen	in	the
world,	
because	otherwise	the	change	will	not	happen. We	didn’t	know	that
then	but	we	know	it	now. We’re	more	sophisticated	about	politics,	and	we’re
more	sophisticated	about	love. We’re	becoming	what	author	Andrew	Harvey
calls	“sacred	activists.”	We	got	here	late,	but	we	got	here. We	arrive	with	gray	hair	and	irony:	The	generation	that	declared	war	on
hypocrisy	has	become	among	the	most	hypocritical	of	all;	the	generation	that
sought	to	replace	guns	with	flowers	has	more	often	replaced	flowers	with
guns;	and	looking	at	the	clock,	we	have	about	ten	minutes	left	to	awake	from
our	stupor	and	retrieve	our	moxie. Our	greatest	failure	now	isn’t	one	of	politics	so	much	as	of	imagination. We
need	to	
imagine
	a	world	at	peace,	and	then	work	backward	from	there. The
world	can	only	be	at	peace	when	more	of	its	people	are	fed,	housed,	and
educated;	when	more	of	its	people	are	given	the	medical	care	they	need;	when
more	of	its	women	are	free;	when	more	of	its	opportunities	are	available	to
more	of	its	population;	and	when	more	of	its	resources	are	shared	equitably. These	things	wouldn’t	just	“be	nice”—they’re	essential	keys	to	a	survivable
future. Imagine,	for	a	moment,	the	$600	billion	or	more	a	year	that	the	United
States	now	spends	on	our	military	and	defense	(and	that	does	not	include	the
war	in	Iraq). Going	back	30	years,	what	if	we’d	spent	the	majority	of	that
money	on	such	humanitarian	concerns	as	mentioned	above? What	if	morepeople	in	the	world	had	seen	American-flag	decals	on	schools,	roads,	and
hospitals	in	their	communities	than	on	military	installations? Would	it	have
been	so	easy,	then,	to	stir	up	so	much	hate	against	us? Is	it	possible	that	there
wouldn’t	even	have	been	a	
9/11? Such	questions	are	ridiculed	by	the	political	status	quo,	but	at	this	point	no
conscious	person	is	stopped	by	the	derision	of	the	status	quo. Those	who	look
at	the	world	today	through	a	lens	more	relevant	to	the	way	things	were	60
years	ago	are	not	the	ones	to	lead	us	forward. We’ll	move	forward	only	with	a
new	vision	of	where	we	want	to	go. And	there	is	no	way	we	can	get	there	if
we	forget	our	deep	humanity. We	need	to	do	more	than	just	defeat	an	enemy;
we	need	to	create	more	friends. In	the	words	of	Martin	Luther	King,	Jr.,	we
must	make	the	world	a	“beloved	community.”
Politics	and	economics	have	to	mirror	our	spirituality	or	else	they	mock	it. Humanity	will	change;	the	only	issue	is	whether	we	do	so	because	we	grow	in
wisdom	or	because	the	pain	of	not	changing	becomes	so	intense	that	we	will
have	no	choice. A	nuclear	bomb	would	ruin	everyone’s	day	and	everyone’s
business. There	is	nothing	astute—financially,	or	in	any	other	way—about
doing	whatever	we	want	to	do	without	worrying	about	its	effect	on	others. Such	thinking	shoud	be	repudiated	now. It’s	time	to	transcend	modernity’s
limited	perspective	and	lay	claim	to	a	more	enlightened	worldview. It’s	said	that	when	Ralph	Waldo	Emerson	visited	Henry	David	Thoreau	in
jail	after	he	was	sentenced	for	his	protests	against	the	Mexican-American
War,	he	asked	his	friend	what	he	was	doing	in	there—and	Thoreau	responded,
“What	are	you	doing	
out	there? ”	That’s	how	it	feels	to	be	someone	shouting
“Foul!”	at	the	top	of	your	lungs	today;	anyone	who	isn’t	doing	so	must	be
nuts. Age	gives	you	a	sense	that	what	you	know	is	what	you	know,	and	whoever
doesn’t	agree	with	you	no	longer	has	the	power	to	make	you	change	your
mind	or	shut	you	up. The	only	justification	you	need	for	having	an	opinion	is
that	it’s	your	opinion. You	might	be	right	and	you	might	be	wrong,	but	under
no	condition	will	you	be	silent	about	what	you	believe	any	longer. As	Jesus
said	in	the	Gospel	of	Thomas:	“That	which	you	have	will	save	you	if	you
bring	it	forth	from	yourselves. That	which	you	do	not	have	within	you	will
kill	you	if	you	do	not	bring	it	forth.”
One	of	the	ways	we	can	give	birth	to	a	new	world	is	by	speaking	it	into
existence. And	
love
	is	not	a	weak	word. One	word,	one	prayer,	one	book,	one
speech,	one	conversation,	one	poem,	one	script,	one	song	at	a	time	
…	we	will
speak	of	love,	and	our	word	will	prevail.“M
INE	EYES	HAVE	SEEN	THE	GLORY
	of	the	coming	of	the	Lord:	/	He	is	trampling	out
the	vintage	where	the	grapes	of	wrath	are	stored;	/	He	hath	loosed	the	fateful
lightning	of	His	terrible	swift	sword:	/	His	truth	is	marching	on.”
I	remember	watching	Judy	Garland	sing	those	lyrics	to	“The	Battle	Hymn
of	the	Republic”	on	television	after	the	assassination	of	President	Kennedy. I
was	too	young	to	appreciate	the	full	import	of	what	was	happening,	but	I
could	tell	from	my	parents’	tears	and	Judy	Garland’s	performance	that	this
situation	was	bad,	and	that	it	was	history. A	mental	snapshot	of	Garland
singing	that	song	has	stayed	in	my	head	for	over	40	years. Its	message	is	still
one	of	my	favorite	affirmations	that	no	matter	what	happens,	no	matter	how
much	cruelty	or	injustice	fills	the	world,	God’s	truth	will	somehow	prevail. I	have	a	friend	who	has	been	in	prison	since	she	was	17	years	old. She	is
now	34. Her	crime	was	that	she	drove	the	car	in	a	marijuana	sale	during
which	someone	was	killed. Later	that	night,	after	more	than	nine	hours	of
intense	interrogation	by	the	Detroit	police,	a	confession	to	having
masterminded	the	drug	sale	was	manipulated	out	of	her. (“Just	sign	here,	and
you	can	go	home	to	your	mother.”)	No	reading	of	Miranda	rights;	no	presence
of	counsel. And	now	this	beautiful	woman,	who	at	the	age	of	17	would	not	in
a	million	years	have	known	how	to	deal	with	police	pressure,	sits	in	a	prison
cell	unable	to	procure	the	commutation	of	her	sentence	that	any	reasonable
person’s	interpretation	of	justice	would	demand. She	dreams,	and	many
dream	for	her,	that	the	day	will	come	when	she’s	released	from	the	hell	of	her
confinement	and	is	free	to	live	out	the	rest	of	her	days	with	some	version	of	a
normal	life. I	once	asked	her	what	she	wanted	to	do	when	she	got	out	of	prison. I	told
her	that	as	soon	as	she’d	visited	with	her	family,	I’d	take	her	anywhere	she
wanted	to	go. I	was	thinking	a	spa. A	beach. Wherever. Her	response? Get	ready	for	this. Her	eyes	brightened. “CVS	pharmacy,”	she	said. “I	would	love	to	go	to
CVS. I	would	love	to	be	able	to	pick	out	my	own	shade	of	lipstick. I	hear	they
have	a	lot	of	them	there. We	only	get	one	shade	in	here.”
Her	eyes	were	bright	with	hope;	my	eyes	were	bright	with	tears. And	on	any	day	when	I	feel	that	my	life	isn’t	exactly	what	I’d	wish	for	in
this	way	or	that,	I	think	of	Toni. If	you	still	have	the	chance	to	get	up	each
day,	do	basically	what	you	want	to	do,	and	make	every	attempt	to	make	right
what	went	wrong	before,	then	you’re	still	in	the	game. Some	people	mademistakes	in	their	past	for	which	they	cannot	just	atone	and	start	over. In	order	to	“[trample]	out	the	vintage	where	the	grapes	of	wrath	are	stored”
(cancel	out	hate)	and	“[loose]	the	fateful	lightning	of	His	terrible	swift	sword”
(
karma
	and	
justice
	are	gentler	words,	but	I’m	not	going	to	edit	Julia	Ward
Howe),	God	needs	our	help	as	much	as	we	need	His. Later	in	the	song,	Howe
wrote:	“As	He	died	to	make	men	holy,	let	us	live	to	make	men	free.”	If	only. God	needs	us	to	surrender	ourselves	to	be	used	for	His	purposes. And	in
order	to	be	of	use	to	Him,	we	need	to	be	channels	through	which	He	can
operate. That	is	why	we	do	what	we	do—not	only	for	ourselves,	but	for	Toni
and	the	millions	like	her	who	we	know	in	our	hearts	could	so	easily	have	been
us. A
ND	THEN,	OF	COURSE,	AT	THE	END	OF	ALL	THIS
—after	all	the	years	of	yearning	and	strife,
achievement	and	disappointment—we	will	lay	down	the	body. All	of	us	hope
for	that	tunnel	of	light,	the	otherworldly	peace	we’ve	read	about,	and	the	joy
of	feeling	that	in	the	final	analysis,	this	lifetime	wasn’t	bad	at	all. Death	has	been	called	our	“next	adventure,”	and	the	older	we	get,	the	more
that	seems	to	ring	true. In	the	words	of	Carl	Jung,	
“Shrinking	away	from
death	is	something	unhealthy	and	abnormal	which	robs	the	second	half	of	life
of	its	purpose.”	That	doesn’t	mean	death	is	something	to	be	excited	about,
necessarily. But	it’s	something	to	be	accepted	in	faith—faith	that	nothing
exists	outside	the	love	of	God,	the	perfection	of	God,	or	the	plan	of	God. If
He	has	us	leave	here,	then	it’s	by	definition	into	greater	light. For	myself,	the	greatest	sorrow	of	death	is	the	thought	of	leaving	those	I
love	the	most. But	then	I	think	of	those	I	love	who	have	already	died,	whom
I’ll	get	to	see	again. And	I	think	of	those	I	might	leave	behind	when	I	die,	but
who	themselves	will	cross	over	and	join	me	on	the	other	side	one	day. The
smallest	child,	even	if	blessed	with	the	longest	life,	will	someday	die. So
whether	our	train	is	faster	or	slower,	we’re	all	on	our	way	to	the	same
destination. And	in	God’s	universe,	the	only	destination	is	Love. Knowing	that	we	will	die	doesn’t	make	life	less	important;	in	fact,	it	makes
it	more	important. The	realization	of	our	mortality	creates	a	sense	of	urgency
to	use	life	wisely,	to	appreciate	it	fully,	to	love	more	deeply	while	we’re	still
here	and	we	still	can. There	is	a	magical	thinking	to	youth:	Most	young
people	have	the	secret	thought	that	they’re	the	one	who’s	going	to	cheat
death. (“Death	wouldn’t	dare	take	me!”)	And	with	that	false	sense	that	life
will	last	forever	comes	a	casual	disregard	for	how	serious	it	is. When	I	wasyoung,	the	only	things	I	took	seriously	were	seriously	unimportant	things. It
was	only	with	age	that	I	came	to	see	how	important,	how	very	truly
important,	is	the	simple	existence	of	life	itself. When	you’re	young	it	never	occurs	to	you	that	when	you	call	a	friend	it’s
not	one	of	an	endless	number	of	times	you’ll	have	the	chance	to	do	so. Once
you	fully	appreciate	that	every	experience	in	the	material	world	is	finite,	you
realize	how	amazing	it	is	just	to	be	able	to	make	a	phone	call. As	my	friend
Sarah	often	says,	“Time’s	a-wastin’.”	Isn’t	that	the	truth. We	presume	on	things	we	have	no	idea	are	so	fleeting. When	we’re	young,
we	don’t	know—except	intellectually,	and	even	then	we	don’t	really	believe	it
—that	we	won’t	always	have	endless	energy	or	glow. When	age	forces	us	to
see	how	much	is	now	gone,	we	are	shocked	and	hurt	to	realize	all	the	things
that	are	over	and	will	not	come	again. But	then	something	happens	when	the	shock	wears	off	…	something	subtle
yet	immense. What	happens	is	counter	to	the	thinking	of	the	world. We’d
always	seen	older	people	at	dinner	or	at	the	theater,	and	we	looked	down	on
their	diminished	lives	with	pity. What	we	failed	to	realize—how	could	we
then?—	was	that	many	of	these	men	and	women	were	existing	in	a	parallel
universe	where	they	looked	at	
us
	as	the	pitiable	ones,	having	not	yet	realized
what	life	was	about	or	even	really	for. They	were	having,	perhaps,	more	fun
than	we	knew. They	were	seeing,	perhaps,	what	we	had	not	yet	seen. What
has	happened	now	is	that	we’ve	entered	their	room. And	it	isn’t	what	we	had
expected. It’s	whatever	we	
want
	it	to	be. Dear	God,
As	I	age,
make	me	ever	more
the	person	You	would	have	me	be. For	I	would	know	the	joy	of	life
before	my	days	are	done. Amen
I	
INTERVIEWED	A	WOMAN	ON	MY	RADIO	SHOW
	who’d	had	lupus	for	two	decades;	had
been	married	to	a	man	for	many	years	who	told	her	on	Christmas	Eve,	while
she	was	wrapping	her	small	children’s	presents,	that	he	didn’t	want	to	bemarried	anymore;	had	lost	one	of	her	children	suddenly	in	a	violent	accident;
and	is	now	married	to	a	practicing	alcoholic. I	felt	such	admiration	for	her	that
she	simply	wakes	up	each	morning	to	face	another	day. Any	one	of	those
things	might	have	knocked	me	out	for	years. I	don’t	know	what	it	is	that	keeps	us	coming	back	up. When	I	think	of	what
people	have	experienced—from	Auschwitz	to	Rwanda	to	Iraq	to	everyday
Americans	just	trying	to	survive—I	can	hardly	stand	it. Sometimes	I	think
that	the	oceans	are	a	material	manifestation	of	humanity’s	tears. Clearly	there
is	some	tenacity,	some	deeper	longing	to	keep	keeping	on,	that	lies	at	the
heart	of	the	human	experience. I	don’t	think	we	cleave	to	life	for	no	other
reason	than	that	we’re	afraid	of	death. I	think	we	cleave	to	life	out	of	a	deeper
knowing	that	there	is	something	about	it	that	has	not	happened	yet. Like
salmon	rushing	upstream,	we	instinctively	know	that	we	are	here	to	continue
the	process	of	life. That	we	
are
	the	process	of	life. And	as	such,	we’re	here	to
contribute	to	a	larger	drama	than	our	individual	selves	could	ever	fathom,
much	less	describe. At	the	end	of	Stanley	Kubrick’s	movie	masterpiece	
2001:	A	Space	Odyssey,
an	infant	is	seen	floating	through	outer	space. Surely	that	is	the	ultimate	goal
here:	the	birth	of	a	new	humanity. Yet	if	that	child	is	to	be	born,	someone
needs	to	parent	it—and	that	means	you	and	me. Conceived	in	our	minds	and
hearts,	it	will	be	breast-fed	by	our	compassionate	action. And	this	new
delightful	and	delighted	being	is	gestating	inside	us	all. Wars	and	rumors	of
war	abound,	that	is	true. But	people	continue	to	fall	in	love. People	continue
to	atone	for	their	mistakes. People	continue	to	forgive	and	to	ask	for
forgiveness. And	people	continue	to	hope	and	pray. The	point,	when	staring
death	in	the	face,	is	to	proclaim	more	life. And	we	are	doing	that. I	believe	in	a	compassionate	God,	for	Whom	it	takes	only	one	moment’s
epiphany,	one	moment’s	prayer,	one	moment’s	genuine	and	humble	desire	to
do	right	by	love	to	inspire	His	intervention	in	the	irresponsible	drama	of	a
reckless	humanity. As	we	look	not	back	nor	forward,	but	deep	within,	we	see
a	light	that	is	greater	than	the	darkness	of	the	world,	a	hope	that	surpasses	the
understanding	of	the	world,	and	a	love	that	is	greater	than	the	hatred	in	the
world. Seeing	that	light,	we	shall	follow	that	light	through	the	birth	canal	toward
humanity’s	rebirth. While	our	labor	is	long	and	in	some	ways	hard,	we	are
being	born	to	something	huge	and	precious. We	are	being	born	to	our	own
true	selves. And	we	will	never	settle,	ever	again,	for	being	less	than	we	truly
are.Dear	God,
May	love	prevail. Amen
A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS
There’s	usually	only	one	name	on	the	cover,	but	most	every	book	is	in	some
way	a	collective	effort. Never	was	that	more	true	for	me	than	in	writing	this
one. My	deepest	thanks	to:
Maya	Labos,	for	starting	the	ball	rolling	that	would	bring	me	to	Hay	House. While	not	a	literal	homecoming,	it’s	a	homecoming	nevertheless. Reid	Tracy,	for	offering	me	a	home. Louise	Hay,	for	being	so	hot	and	happening	at	80. Shannon	Littrell,	for	generous	and	insightful	help	with	the	manuscript. Jill	Kramer,	Amy	Rose	Grigoriou,	Courtney	Pavone,	Jacqui	Clark,
Margarete	Nielsen,	and	Jeannie	Liberati	at	Hay	House—for	a	profound	blend
of	excellence	and	kindness. Wendy	Carlton,	for	the	wonderful,	tough	editing	that	both	teaches	and
inspires	me.
_OceanofPDF.com_The_Age_of_Miracles_-_Marianne_Williamson.txt
Summarize the following text section accurately and concisely. Maintain specific details and numerical information, and use anti-repetition mechanisms:

        A	Course	in	Miracles
	states	that	love	restores	reason	and
not	the	other	way	around. Sometimes	the	value	of	a	liaison	with	a	younger	person	is	that	they	remind
us	we’re	not	dead	yet. They	bring	energy	like	the	sun	breaking	through,	after
too	much	fog	and	rain	had	made	us	think	that	the	light	might	not	ever	return. They	bring	the	sun	because	they	still	
are
	the	sun. Having	not	yet	experienced
their	own	late	afternoon,	they	don’t	trigger	the	grief	you	feel	over	what
happened	during	yours. A	relationship	might	not	be	something	that	lasts	a	lifetime,	but	that	doesn’t
mean	it’s	not	a	temple	experience. The	sanctity	of	a	connection	is	determined
by	how	much	respect	and	honor	we	show	it. People	are	drawn	to	people
whom	they	can	learn	from,	and	intimacy	is	a	deep	learning. Years	together
can	be	a	deep	learning,	and	three	days	in	Paris	where	all	you	do	is	eat	and
sleep	and	make	love	and	pray	and	talk	about	everything	that’s	ever	happened
to	you	can	also	be	a	deep	learning. The	only	thing	that	ruins	that	one	is	when
someone	doesn’t	know	how	to	let	what	happened	in	Paris	be	simply	that. It
takes	a	high	level	of	spiritual	as	well	as	emotional	evolution	to	be	able	to	go
deep	with	someone	with	whom	the	connection	is	best	kept	limited	in	time. I’m	not	justifying	casual	sex	here;	the	sex	in	this	case	would	be	anything	but
casual. This	isn’t	that	“what	happens	in	Vegas	stays	in	Vegas. ”	It’s	that	“what
happens	in	Paris	stays	in	our	hearts	to	bless	us	forever. ”
And	by	the	way:	if	it	happened	in	Las	Vegas,	that’s	okay,	too. T
HERE	ARE	MANY	MANSIONS	IN	THE	ROMANTIC	HOUSE	OF	LOVE. The	exchange	is	uniquely
wonderful	with	someone	who	knows	the	lyrics	to	the	same	songs	you	do. I
think	of	one	who	has	walked	the	path	with	me	when	it	was	smooth	and	when
it	was	rocky,	when	it	was	cool	to	know	me	and	when	it	was	cool	to	put	me
down,	when	I	was	laughing	like	a	loon	and	when	I	was	crying	like	a	child. He
is	the	one	who	has	
seen
	me. That	is	the	ultimate	value,	I	think,	of
relationships	that	move	through	the	years	without	dissolving. Someone	bears
witness	to	your	life. You	don’t	experience	yourself	in	a	vacuum;	someone	else
knows	your	story. They	were	as	excited	as	you	were	when	something
marvelous	happened	to	you,	and	they	never	said,	“I	told	you	so,”	when	youdid	something	stupid	you	would	later	regret. They	have	faith	in	the	longer
narrative	of	your	life. They’ve	seen	you	grow	from	your	losses	as	well	as	your
wins. The	key	to	long-term	relationships	is	letting	someone	be	different	today
than	they	were	yesterday. I	think	one	of	the	main	reasons	for	divorce	is	that
couples	don’t	always	create	the	emotional	space	between	them	to	allow	for
constant	and	continuous	change. When	people	say,	“We	grew	apart,”	it’s	often
a	sign	that	when	they	entered	the	marriage,	their	emotional	contract	didn’t
include	this	clause:	“I’ll	let	you	grow. You’ll	let	me	grow. We’ll	learn	from
each	other,	and	we	can	grow	together. ”
At	midlife	we	all	need	to	shed	our	skin	and	grow	a	new	one. The	soul
hungers	for	a	chance	to	expand	itself. The	tragedy	between	partners	is	when
they	don’t	know	enough	to	honor	this	need,	recognizing	that	it	carries	within
it	a	chance	to	regreen	the	relationship. I	once	knew	a	man	who	left	his	wife	because	he	felt	that	he	couldn’t
become	
himself
	in	the	marriage. He	felt	that	he	couldn’t	find	his	manhood
within	the	context	of	their	connection,	as	if	she	took	up	too	much	of	the
oxygen. He	felt	that	in	leaving	her,	he	was	going	through	a	male	initiation	of
sorts. Then	and	only	then	could	he	become	the	man	he	wanted	to	be. But	I	felt	in	observing	them	that	perhaps	the	truest	initiation	into	his
manhood	would	have	been	if,	within	the	context	of	the	marriage,	he’d	owned
his	own	power	enough	to	simply	tell	her	to	back	off. A	real	man	does	set
boundaries. A	real	man	does	demand	his	own	psychic	space. A	real	man	does
not	let	a	woman	dominate	or	control	him. But	a	real	man	
claims
	all	that	for
himself;	he	doesn’t	just	slink	away	and	call	leaving	his	marriage	some
assumption	of	male	power. Sometimes	marriages	are	simply	over—the	maximum	opportunity	for
learning	has	occurred,	and	it’s	time	to	let	go—but	sometimes	people	leave	for
no	other	reason	than	that	their	spouses	aren’t	providing	them	with	what	only
they	can	provide	for	themselves. The	fact	that	a	relationship	is	reminding	you
that	you’re	not	strong	enough	yet	isn’t	of	itself	a	
bad
	thing. It’s	part	of	the
value	of	the	relationship	that	it’s	showing	you	to	yourself. Moving	on	to
another	situation	where	you’re	stuck	in	the	same	pattern	but	can	easily
pretend	you’re	not	has	never	in	my	experience	provided	clarity	or	strength. I’ve	gained	a	lot	in	my	life	from	moving	on,	when	moving	on	was	the	call
of	my	soul. I’ve	gained	just	as	much	from	staying	in	the	struggle	with	self
while	standing	still,	when	my	soul	made	it	clear	that	this	was	where	Ibelonged	for	now	…	that	the	real	problem	was	not	with	him	but	with	you-
know-who. And	it	is	incredible,	once	you’ve	made	the	breakthrough	or	made
the	change,	when	the	person	in	front	of	you	is	the	same	one	who	was	there
before. I	once	had	a	relationship	with	a	man	who	told	me	often,	“You’re	so	hard	to
please. ”	It	was	an	ongoing	issue	that	became	a	major	one,	as	I’d	always	find	a
way	to	create	a	problem	where	there	didn’t	have	to	be	one. I	got	the	point	and
sought	to	address	within	myself	why	I	was	behaving	in	such	a	self-defeating
way,	why	I	was	so	invested	in	that	drama	and	so	forth. I	asked	for	God’s	help,
tried	to	snap	out	of	it,	and	modified	my	behavior	as	best	I	could. One	day
many	months	later,	I	asked	my	friend	for	another	serving	of	half-and-half	in
my	coffee,	to	which	he	responded	laughingly,	“You’re	so	hard	to	please. ”	I
had	made	it. I	had	changed. And	he	was	still	there. Dear	God,
I	surrender	to	You	my	relationships. Please	purify	my	thoughts	about	them,
so	only	love	remains. In	this,	and	in	all	things,	dear	God,
may	Your	will	alone
be	done. Amen
*I	told	him	about	a	book	called	
Advice	to	a	Young	Wife	from	an	Old
Mistress,
	and	shared	with	him	how	much	I	had	learned	from	psychologist	Pat
Allen	in	Southern	California. Chapter	Eight
A
BRAHAM	,	
M
ARTIN,	AND
J
OHN
W
ith	the	attack	on	the	World	Trade	Center	on	9/11,	anyone	who	needed	to
grow	up	and	basically	hadn’t	done	it	yet,	did. The	prolonged	post-adolescence
of	at	least	one	generation	ended	at	last. On	that	day,	the	music	died. And	now	what	will	we	do. Everyone	I	know	is	waiting	for	the	world	to
change. It’s	unbelievable	how	far	we’ve	fallen. In	the	1960s	we	listened	to	the	likes
of	Bobby	Kennedy	and	Martin	Luther	King,	Jr. ,	articulate	the	vision	of	an
America,	and	a	world,	delivered	to	its	highest	possibility. We	provided	music
that	was	a	perfect	soundtrack	to	their	dreams,	singing	“All	You	Need	Is	Love”
at	political	rallies. It’s	true	that	many	of	us	were	stoned	out	of	our	minds	at	the
time—but	we’re	not	now,	and	that	means	something. It	might	have	taken	us
40	years,	but	we’ve	finally	matured	to	the	point	where	we’re	ready	to
manifest	dreams	we	embraced	a	long	time	ago. What	took	us	so	long. Why	40	years. What	stopped	us. More	than	anything,	I	think,	murder	stopped	us. The	voices	of	Bobby
Kennedy	and	Martin	Luther	King,	Jr. ,	along	with	the	four	students	at	Kent
State	University,	were	silenced	violently	and	abruptly	right	in	front	of	our
eyes. Those	bullets	weren’t	just	for	them;	psychically	they	were	for	all	of	us,
and	we	knew	it. The	unspoken	message	of	those	assassinations	could	not	have
been	louder. There	would	be	no	further	protest. We	were	to	go	home	now. We
could	do	whatever	we	wanted	to	do	within	the	private	sector,	but	were	to
leave	the	public	sector	to	whoever	wanted	it	so	much	that	they	were	willing	to
kill	in	order	to	control	it. And	leave	it	alone	we	did. A	generation	with	as	much	talent	and	privilege
as	any	that	has	ever	walked	the	earth	poured	the	majority	of	our	gifts	into
private	concerns—mostly	things	of	ultimate	irrelevance—while	mostly
leaving	the	political	sphere	to	others. And	for	a	few	decades,	that	seemed	towork. America	can	be	likened	to	a	house,	in	which	many	of	us	ran	to	the
second	floor	(art,	spirituality,	careers,	
fun
)	and	left	the	downstairs	(traditional
politics)	to	less	inspired	thinkers. We	kidded	ourselves	that	it	was	an	okay
arrangement,	until	those	of	us	on	the	balcony	began	to	smell	the	unmistakable
odor	of	a	house	burning	down. Shouldn’t	someone	about	now	be	yelling,	“Fire. ”. Collectively,	our	script	has	been	returned	to	us	for	a	rewrite. We	get	another
chance	to	determine	the	end. The	first	time	around,	we	allowed	ourselves	to
be	silenced. It	remains	to	be	seen	if	we	will	be	silenced	now. Dear	God,
At	this	time	of	global	peril,
may	I	be	a	conduit	of	Your	miracles. Heal	me	that	I
might	heal	others,
and	help	bring	forth
a	more	beautiful	world. Amen
D
URING	HIS	SECOND	TERM	IN	OFFICE
,	President	Bill	Clinton	proposed	a	national
conversation	about	race. People	tried	their	best	to	live	up	to	the	proposition,
but	soon	enough	the	idea	seemed	to	fizzle. From	a	transformational
perspective—one	that	recognizes	the	importance	of	psychological,	emotional,
and	spiritual	factors,	as	well	as	material	ones—this	came	as	no	surprise. You
can’t	have	a	real	“conversation”	about	race—one	that’s	authentic	and
meaningful,	with	any	hope	of	real	breakthrough—unless	some	of	the	people
involved	have	a	chance	to	express	anger	that’s	been	built	up	over	hundreds	of
years. Having	led	spiritual	support	groups	for	more	than	20	years,	I’ve	had	a	bit	of
experience	facilitating	the	kind	of	sacred	space	that	allows	for	deep
conversation. A	unique	energy	must	be	brought	forth	in	such	groups,	ensuring
the	emotional	safety	and	well-being	of	all	its	participants. Most	of	us	have	felt
this	kind	of	energy	in	therapy,	during	religious	ritual,	or	what	have	you. It’s	a
distinctly	different	vibration	from	normal	conversation,	stemming	from	a
different	set	of	brain	waves. When	Mary	was	looking	for	her	son	Jesus,	she	found	him	in	the	temple. And	there	was	a	reason	for	that. No	soul	finds	any	soul	except	in	sacred
space. Within	that	space,	all	is	revealed—total	communication	is	given	and
received,	and	miracles	occur	naturally. Until	we	reach	that	depth	of	dialogue
within	ourselves	and	with	others,	there	can	be	no	deeper	breakthroughs
regarding	our	most	urgent	problems. What	will	
not
	solve	today’s	problems	is
conventional	thought. What	will	
not
	solve	today’s	problems	is	old	tried-and-
no-longer-true	formulas. What	will	
not
	solve	today’s	problems	is	endless
attack	and	defense. What	will	
not
	solve	today’s	problems	is	shallow
conversation. What	
will
	solve	today’s	problems	is	new	consciousness,	from	which	will
emerge	new	thinking	and	new	hope. The	planet	needs	a	new	story,	and	so	do
we. Who	would	be	better	to	help	create	a	new	story	for	the	planet	than	those	of
us	who	just	happen	to	be	involved	with	creating	a	new	story	for	ourselves. A
problem	of	midlife	is	the	temptation	to	be	redundant,	simply	imitating
ourselves	by	doing	the	same	things	we’ve	always	done	but	with	less	verve. But	the	pulse	of	the	moment—both	personally	and	globally—is	to	let	go	now
of	what	needs	to	be	let	go,	to	disenthrall	ourselves	of	what	used	to	be,	and
embrace	a	radically	new	kind	of	life. It	is	there	for	us. It’s	there	for	us	as
individuals,	and	it’s	there	for	us	as	a	species. It’s	alive	in	our	imagination,	and
we	can	claim	it	if	we	wish	to. Each	of	us	is	coded	to	play	a	maximally
effective	role	helping	to	change	the	world,	to	the	extent	to	which	we	are
willing	to	
be	changed. I	was	once	privy	to	a	fascinating	moment	at	a	private	party,	where	I	saw	the
musical	producer	and	performer	Babyface	sit	strumming	a	guitar	and	singing
his	song	“Change	the	World,”	while	former	mayor	of	Atlanta,	UN
ambassador,	and	civil-rights	legend	Andrew	Young	sat	a	few	feet	away,
listening	and	staring	out	into	the	distance. One	man	sang	of	wanting	to	change
the	world,	while	the	other	had	memories	of	how	much	he’d	already	tried. Yet
both	received	their	intimations	of	possibility	from	the	same	internal	source,
from	which	all	of	us	should	now	be	drawing	our	inspiration	and	hope. Real	vision	comes	not	from	what	we	see	in	the	past	or	the	future;	it	emerges
from	what	we	see	within. The	soul	is	the	only	safe	repository	for	our	dreams
of	a	reborn	world. It	is	the	soul	that	will	direct	us—no	matter	what	our	age—
to	the	role	we	can	best	play	in	realigning	the	earth	with	the	consciousness	of
heaven. We	have	within	us,	through	an	internal	guidance	system	created	byGod	Himself,	all	the	instructions	we	need	in	order	to	midwife	a	new	world. Both	our	temporal	and	eternal	selves	are	programmed	perfectly	for	what	we
need	to	do	now. And	I	do	mean	now. Dear	God,
Please	prepare	me,
heart	and	soul,
to	bring	light	into	darkened	times. Amen
H
ISTORY	MOVES	FORWARD	ONE	INSIGHT	AT	A	TIME. From	the	Jewish	embrace	of	a
monotheistic	God	to	Buddha’s	vision	of	compassion;	from	the	teaching	of
Jesus	that	God	is	love	to	Martin	Luther’s	insistence	that	we	can	talk	to	Him
ourselves;	from	the	individual’s	creative	genius	spurred	by	the	Italian
Renaissance	to	the	philosophical	maturity	of	the	European	Enlightenment;
from	the	genius	of	the	American	Experiment	to	the	invention	of	quantum
physics—the	march	of	armies	is	creatively	small	compared	to	the	march	of
ideas. And	that	is	the	purpose	of	time,	for	both	the	individual	and	the	species:
that	as	life	progresses,	our	understanding	can	mature. All	of	us	take	two	steps	forward	and	one	step	back	at	times,	but	there	is
nevertheless	an	evolutionary	impulse—within	every	heart,	every	cell,	and
every	aspect	of	life—marching	ahead	despite	all	resistance. Our	task	is	to
consciously	conspire	with	that	impulse,	in	full	partnership	with	the	force	of
love	at	the	center	of	all	things,	entwined	with	its	divine	pulsation	and	heat,
both	riding	and	directing	the	wave	by	which	humanity	shall	rise	up	at	last. I
T’S	AMAZING	HOW	MANY	PEOPLE	TODAY
	do	not	take	it	for	granted	that	the	planet	will
survive	the	next	50	years. Whether	from	weather	disasters	or	military
misadventures,	there	are	so	many	ways	we	could	be	destroyed. Rationally,	this	is	certainly	true. But	spiritual	power	is	nonrational. That’s
not	to	say	it’s	
irrational;
	just	nonrational. It	springs	forth	from	a	quantum
field	not	limited	by	mortal	circumstances. The	catastrophic	possibilities	that
threaten	the	world	today	reflect	who	we	have	been	until	now,	and	they’ll	stay
the	way	they	are	for	as	long	as	we	stay	the	way	
we
	are. The	possibility	for	a
miraculous	change	in	global	affairs	reflects	the	possibility	for	miraculous
change	in	us. Spiritual	transformation,	not	human	manipulation,	is	the	only	level
fundamentally	deep	enough	to	alter	the	now	dangerous	trajectory	of	human
history. We	can’t	just	“fix”	our	way	out	of	what’s	going	on	now. We	need	a
miracle,	which	we	will	only	have	if	we	ourselves	become	miracle	workers. Miracles	occur	naturally	in	the	presence	of	love. In	our	natural	state,	we	
are
miracle	workers	because	love	is	who	we	are. Talk	about	personal
transformation—the	journey	from	fear	to	love—is	not	a	narcissistic	exercise. It’s	not	fuzzy	thinking	or	soft-brained	New	Ageism. It’s	the	most	necessary
component	to	our	re-creating	human	society	and	affecting	the	course	of
history. The	problem	with	the	world	is	that	we’ve	been	torn	from	our	original
nature. Torn	from	ourselves,	we	become	addicts. Torn	from	each	other,	we
become	abusers. Torn	from	the	earth,	we	become	its	destroyers. And	that	tear
—a	separation	from	our	divine	oneness—is	not	a	metaphor. It	is	not	a	symbol. It	is	a	literal,	vicious,	insidiously	progressive	disease	of	the	human	spirit. It	is
force. And	it	has	at	its	command	the	same	sophisticated	level	of	mental
operating	skills	as	does	the	better	part	of	us. It	is	our	dark	side,	and
underestimating	its	sway	is	naive. I	gave	a	talk	once	where	I	mentioned	the	word	
evil. A	woman	then	stood	up
in	the	back	of	the	room	and	said,	“I	don’t	believe	in	evil. Where	some	see
evil,	I	see	wounding	and	pain. ”	I	told	her	that	the	the	pain	she	refers	to	is
often	the	
cause
	of	evil,	absolutely. But	I	don’t	understand	where
acknowledging	the	cause	involves	denying	the	effect. Were	the	witch-burnings	not	evil. Is	genocide	not	evil. Are	children	having
their	throats	slit,	or	being	bought	and	sold	as	sex	slaves,	or	having	their	limbs
cut	off	one	by	one,	not	evil. Is	a	man	tied	up	in	his	basement,	forced	to	hear
the	sounds	of	his	wife	and	daughters	raped	repeatedly	and	then	set	on	fire,	not
evil. Where	do	we	get	this	notion	that	it	could	somehow	be	“spiritual”	to
minimize	evil. As	a	student	of	
A	Course	in	Miracles,
	I	certainly	understand	that	in	Reality,
all	that	exists	is	love. But	the	planet	we	live	on	is	
not
	ultimate	reality;	it	is	a
mass	illusion,	as	powerful	in	its	effects	as	is	the	truth. And	here,	in	this
collective	illusion,	what-is-not	love	still	holds	sway. The	ego,	according	to	
A
Course	in	Miracles,
	is	suspicious	at	best	and	vicious	at	worst. The	miracle	minded	are	not	naïve	about	darkness;	we	don’t	just	carry
around	cans	of	pink	paint	and	pour	it	over	everything	so	we	can	pretend
things	are	fine. We	can’t	invoke	the	dawn	if	we	deny	that	night	occurred. What	could	possibly	serve	darkness	more	than	people	failing	to	realize	its	sly
and	insidious	nature. A	serious	grown-up	is	not	someone	who	looks	away
from	the	pain	of	the	world;	a	serious	grown-up	is	someone	who	sees	the	point
of	our	lives	as	committing	ourselves	to	healing	it. That,	in	a	way,	is	what	our	generation	had	to	learn. In	a	part	of	the	world
where	we	had	it	so	easy,	perhaps	we	subconsciously	manifest	our	own	private
hells	to	make	sure	we	would	finally	wake	up	to	the	hell	of	so	many	people
elsewhere. Maybe	we	needed	a	bridge	in	Minnesota	to	fall,	so	we	could	begin
to	imagine	what	it	feels	like	to	have	your	city,	your	country,	your	bridges,
your	hospitals,	your	markets,	your	schools,	and	your	children	bombarded
every	single	day. Perhaps	we	will	come	collectively	to	the	place	many	of	us	have	been	in	the
privacy	of	our	own	hearts,	crying	out	with	horror,	
“Oh	my	God,	what	have	we
done. ”
Then,	in	a	moment	of	genuine	sorrow	for	ways	we	have	behaved	so
irresponsibly,	we	will	begin	to	atone	as	a	nation,	and	as	a	civilization,	in	the
way	that	so	many	of	us	have	atoned	as	individuals. We	will	recognize	that	we
were	wrong,	surrender	our	souls	to	God,	and	pray	fervently	for	another
chance. Dear	God,
Please	forgive	us	for	the	wounded	earth,
and	the	needless	suffering	that
afflicts	its	people	today. Intercede	on	behalf	of	our	better	selves
and	repair	the	damage	done. Replace	our	fear	with	hope,	dear	God,
and	turn	all	hate	to	love. Amen
D
ESCARTES	SAID
,	“I	
THINK,	THEREFORE
	I	
AM. ”	The	way	I	see	it,	I’m	connected	to	God,
therefore	I	am. Without	my	faith,	I	feel	that	I’d	be	nothing	but	a	disconnected
array	of	thoughts	and	feelings	without	any	sense	of	true	meaning	or	purpose. I	don’t	mean	that	without	my	religion	I’d	be	nothing—although	I	think	Iwould	be	less. I	mean	I	derive	my	emotional	security	from	my	belief	that	I’m
not	alone	in	the	universe—that	I’m	supported	by	what	Martin	Luther	King,
Jr. ,	called	“cosmic	companionship. ”	I	can’t	imagine	how	cold	this	world	must
feel—particularly	these	days—for	those	who	have	no	larger,	otherworldly
context	for	their	human	existence. Without	a	spiritual	perspective,	I	don’t
know	how	people	do	it. Every	once	in	a	while,	people	ask	me	what	I	think	I	would	have	done	with
my	life	if	I	hadn’t	found	
A	Course	in	Miracles. I	usually	mention	Edina	on	the
British	TV	comedy	
Absolutely	Fabulous. If	you	haven’t	seen	it,	trust	me—not
a	pretty	sight. Like	that	character,	some	people	get	stuck	in	life,	circling	over
and	over	to	the	same	old	spots	because	they	can’t	find	the	door	to	another
realm	of	options. Most	of	us	at	one	point	or	another	can	relate	to	that. All	I
know	is	that	the	only	escape	for	me	has	been	a	door	I	cannot	open	by	myself. In	college,	I	took	classes	where	I	read	books	about	philosophical	states	of
“ennui,”	a	sense	of	isolation	in	the	universe	and	existential	despair. But	at	that
point	in	my	life	I	couldn’t	fully	appreciate	what	any	of	that	meant. It’s	only
with	the	passage	of	years,	as	each	layer	of	worldly	illusion	falls	away	before
your	eyes,	that	you	come	to	appreciate	an	otherworldly	constant. Unless	you
have	contact	with	a	higher	power,	the	lower	ones	can	really	do	you	in. And	once	you’ve	gotten	old	enough,	you’re	not	too	proud	to	ask	for	help. I’m	amused	when	I	hear	someone	say	that	faith	is	just	a	crutch. I	figure	if
your	leg	is	broken,	then	it	would	be	nice	to	have	that	crutch. And	you	only
use	it	until	you’re	ready	to	get	back	on	your	own	two	feet. Relying	on	God
doesn’t	mean	that	you’re	relying	on	something	outside	yourself. It	means	that
you’re	relying	on	the	Truth	of	All	Things,	a	higher	power	whose	throne	is	not
out	there	somewhere	but	inside	your	heart. You’re	relying	on	the	power	of
compassion	and	nonjudgment. You’re	relying	on	objective,	discernible	laws
of	the	universe;	faith	that	love	produces	miracles	is	no	different	from	faith
that	gravity	makes	things	fall. If	I	have	a	choice	between	relying	on	a	divine	Creator	or	relying	on	the
false	powers	of	a	confused	and	pain-filled	world,	then	I	choose	the	former
anytime. Sometimes	when	I	wake	up	in	the	morning,	I	can	feel	my	soul	reach
up	to	God,	my	mind	uttering	phrases	such	as	
All	I	want	is	the	peace	of	God
before	I	even	reach	for	the	
A	Course	in	Miracles
	workbook	that	I	keep	next	to
my	bed. I’m	hardly	some	contemporary	version	of	Saint	Teresa,	mind	you—
I’m	just	exhausted	from	a	life	of	searching	for	anything	but	the	be-all	and
end-all. My	soul	has	been	thrown	against	so	many	rocky	cliffs,	and	I	finally
realized	I	was	the	wind. Who	else	but	God	could	calm	the	tempest	in	mysoul. And	I	have	a	feeling,	having	been	calm	for	certain	moments	and	certain
hours	and	certain	days,	that	what	happens	when	I	achieve	that	state	is	not	just
useful	to	me,	but	to	Him	as	well. At	least,	that	is	what	I	pray	for. E
VERY	PROBLEM	IS	A	CHALLENGE	TO	BECOME
	a	better	person. Imagine,	then,	what	we’re
being	challenged	to	become	in	order	to	turn	history	around	at	this	time. What
quantum	leap	will	transition	us	from	the	level	of	consciousness	at	which	we
created	our	problems	to	a	level	of	consciousness	at	which	we’re	able	to
miraculously	solve	them. Who	is	it	we	are	destined	to	be,	that	in	our	presence
the	dense	thought-forms	of	hate	will	simply	drop	away. That’s	what	is	so	exhilarating	about	this	moment. Given	that	God	has	an
answer	to	every	problem	the	moment	it	occurs,	then	there	exists	in	His	mind
an	absolute	plan—a	blueprint	for	our	salvation—already	etched	in	full	upon
our	hearts. According	to	that	plan,	we’ll	be	individually	and	collectively
redeemed	and	set	upon	a	new	path	of	evolution. All	the	old	notions	will	die
away,	and	the	human	race	will	remember	at	last	that	we	were	conceived	in
love;	we	are	here	to	love;	and	one	way	or	another,	we’ll	remember	to	love. One	of	the	most	important	things	that	any	of	us	can	do	to	help	the	world	are
to	pray	and	meditate	consistently. Prayer,	according	to	
A	Course	in	Miracles,
is	the	conduit	of	miracles. It	changes	us,	and	through	us,	the	entire	world. No
one	who	prays	and	meditates	consistently	doesn’t	give	a	damn	what	happens. The	first	reason	we	pray	and	meditate	is	to	handle	the	darkness	of	the
world,	strengthening	our	resistance	to	rampant	chaos	and	negativity. In	this
time	of	historical	phase	transition,	many	people	are	experiencing	a	low-grade
panic	they’re	not	even	aware	of. All	of	us	should	surround	ourselves	with	a
shield	of	light,	and	prayer	and	meditation	provide	it. Interestingly,	however,	we	don’t	just	pray	and	meditate	so	we	can	handle
the	darkness. We	do	it	also	so	we	can	handle	the	light. Our	nervous	systems
are	being	bombarded	today	by	forces	of	light	streaming	down	in	response	to
humanity’s	prayers	for	help,	but	a	nervous	system	unprepared	for	such	an
onrush	can	become	overloaded. It	does	us	little	good	if	we	succeed	at	calling
forth	miracles,	yet	are	psychologically	and	emotionally	unprepared	to	receive
them	when	they	arrive. Prayer	not	only	calls	forth	our	good,	but	prepares	us	to
handle	it	once	it	comes. As	Martin	Luther	King,	Jr. ,	said,	“[We	need]	a	qualitative	change	in	our
souls	as	well	as	a	quantitative	change	in	our	lives. ”	Many	people	say	we’re
being	called	by	the	dictates	of	sustainability	to	live	materially	smaller	lives,and	perhaps	this	is	true. But	spiritually,	we’re	being	called	to	live	
bigger
	lives,
to	which	our	resistance	is	at	least	as	strong. I	once	heard	author	Stedman	Graham	suggest	that	even	the	most
accomplished	among	us	aren’t	yet	living	at	100	percent. His	point	lingered
with	me. I	wondered	where	the	other	20	percent	is	if	we	feel	that	we’re	only
living	at	80. Does	it	exist	on	a	shelf	somewhere	as	pure	potentiality,	waiting
to	be	brought	down	when	we’re	ready	to	make	it	manifest. Was	it	put	in	a
corner	of	God’s	Mind	for	safekeeping. And	if	we	open	the	flood	gates	to	our
full	potential	now,	do	we	get	to	retrieve	whatever	possibilities	we	failed	to
manifest	over	the	last	30	years. When	we	don’t	grow	in	certain	areas,	we	can	experience	a	kind	of	“flat
line”	while	those	around	us	gradually	climb	as	in	a	diagonal	line	on	a	graph. Yet	once	we	awaken	to	whatever	awareness	returns	us	to	the	natural	arc	of	our
soul	growth,	we	make	a	direct	vertical	ascent	to	the	place	we	were	supposed
to	be—where	we	
would
	have	been,	had	we	not	tarried. This	often	happens
when	people	get	sober;	all	of	a	sudden,	positive	energy	springs	forth	that
they’d	suppressed	during	the	years	they	were	using. Even	if	you’re	not	an	addict,	just	by	living	in	this	society	you’ve	been	privy
to	an	addictive	system. President	Bush	was	right	when	he	pronounced
America	to	be	“addicted	to	oil”	(and	probably	a	few	other	things	as	well),	and
the	dysfunctional	patterns	spawned	by	that	addiction	extend	like	tentacles	into
all	our	lives. If	a	parent	is	an	alcoholic,	his	or	her	children	carry	the
psychological	weight	of	the	addict’s	unprocessed	issues. If	someone	steals	a
presidential	election,	the	citizens	of	the	country	carry	the	psychological
weight	of	that	guilty	secret. If	a	nation	invades	another	country	for	control	of
its	oil,	then	its	citizens	bear	the	collective	karma	and	resulting	guilt	of	being
involuntary	accomplices	to	what’s	now	euphemistically	called	“regime
change”	but	in	ancient	times	would	have	been	more	aptly	referred	to	as
“pillage	and	plunder. ”	These	forces	and	many	others	have	played	on	our
psyches,	suppressing	the	emergence	of	our	better	selves. No	wonder	so	many
of	us	have	gotten	depressed	or	emotionally	checked	out. These	are	very,	very
critical	times. It’s	time	to	get	emotionally	and	psychologically	sober	now	…	to	awaken
from	the	stupor	of	the	last	few	decades. To	claim	the	percentage	of	our
potential	that	we	haven’t	yet	manifested	and	go	for	that	100	percent. The	race
is	on. This	is	it. Let’s	pray. Let’s	go. O
UR	PROBLEM	ISN’T	THAT	WE	DON’T	THINK	LOVE
	is	an	important	thing;	our	problem	isthat	we	don’t	think	it’s	the	
most
	important	thing. There	are	lots	and	lots	of
distractions	out	there. But	something	happens	when	you’ve	lived	through	enough. Children
suffering	needlessly	…	kids	going	off	to	war	…	people	dying	of	hunger	in	a
world	of	plenty—lesser	issues	begin	to	pale	in	comparison. A	day	comes
when	you	look	at	the	news	and	say,	
What	the	hell	are	we	doing. It’s	horrible	to	contemplate,	but	terrorists	know	what	
they’re
	doing. I	can’t
imagine	a	kind-of,	sort-of,	when-it’s-convenient,	casually	committed	terrorist. Terrorists	have	an	agenda,	that’s	for	sure,	and	they’ll	do	whatever	it	takes	to
further	it. Yet	our	biggest	problem	isn’t	just	that	a	relatively	few	people	hate
with	conviction;	it’s	that	not	enough	of	us	
love
	with	conviction. With	every	thought	of	love,	we	participate	in	the	creation	of	a	unified	field
of	exponentially	greater	possibility	for	everyone. When	a	butterfly	flaps	its
wings	near	the	tip	of	South	America,	it	affects	the	wind	patterns	near	the
North	Pole. And	the	same	is	true	in	the	realm	of	consciousness:	Every	miracle
you	work	in	your	life	is	a	blessing	on	life	itself. A	couple	of	years	ago	the	Amish	of	Pennsylvania,	who	eschew	all	worldly
power,	showed	us	all	what	love	really	is. If	the	world	survives,	I	credit	them. When	some	of	their	little	girls	were	bound	and	shot	dead	by	a	crazed	gunman,
they	forgave	him. Let	me	repeat	that:	They	
forgave
	him. On	that	day	our
entire	country	knew,	without	a	doubt,	that	we	were	in	the	presence	of	the	real
thing. Hard-boiled	newscasters	and	commentators,	who	don’t	get	humble	and
authentic	and	sincere	for	anybody,	got	humble	and	sincere	and	authentic	as
they	reported	this	story. According	to	
A	Course	in	Miracles,
	all	minds	are	joined. No	mind	could	be
apprised	of	the	Amish	reaction	to	their	enormous	tragedy	and	not	be
transformed. By	their	own	demonstration	of	grace,	the	Amish	graced	us	all. Our	souls	were	touched	not	only	by	their	grief	but	by	their	spirituality	as	well. By	holding	to	the	light,	they	transcended	darkness	…	and	not	just	for
themselves. A	truer	crucifixion	of	the	Christ	could	not	occur,	nor	a	truer
resurrection	either. And	in	the	case	of	Jesus,	as	well	as	his	true	disciples	the
Amish,	millions	more	were	lifted	up. Love	is	to	fear	what	light	is	to	darkness;	in	the	presence	of	one,	the	other
disappears. When	enough	of	us	stand	in	the	light	of	true	love—not	a
simplistic	love,	but	the	strong	and	extraordinary	love	of	God—then	all	war
will	cease. But	not	until	then. Until	enough	of	us	learn	to	love	as	God	loves,
creating	a	force	field	of	holiness	to	purify	the	earth	and	dissolve	its	evil,	thenwe’re	going	to	continue	our	march	toward	planetary	disaster. Love	
is
	the
answer. Yet	look	at	how	terrifying	that	thought	is	to	the	ego. We	find	that
notion—that	love	is	our	salvation—more	frightening	than	war,	do	we	not. We
resist	it	more	than	we	resist	nuclear	disaster. And	why. Because	the	love	of
which	I	speak	is	one	that	would	transcend	the	ego,	and	the	world	we	live	in	is
the	ego’s	delight. The	ego	knows	that	by	embracing	love,	we’re	destroying	
it. But	those	are	our	only	choices,	really:	the	ego	will	survive,	or	we	will. N
OT	EVERYONE	HAS	MONEY	OR	WORLDLY	POWER
,	but	all	of	us	have	equal	capacity	to
think,	intend,	and	pray	with	conviction. Love	is	an	ever-renewable	spiritual
resource. We	wouldn’t	have	to	worry	so	much	about	the	state	of	the	world	if
we	felt	more	universal	agreement	among	us	that	we’ll	all	do	whatever	we	can
to	heal	it. No	matter	who	we	are,	we	have	things	we’re	supposed	to	do	to	fulfill	the
calling	of	our	souls. But	the	soul’s	calling	isn’t	a	broad	revelation	that	will	be
written	in	large	letters	across	the	sky. Rather,	it’s	a	challenge	to	be	the	person
we’re	capable	of	being	in	any	given	moment. We	never	know	what
conversation	or	encounter	could	lead	to	what,	as	long	as	we’re	showing	up	for
it	as	best	we	can. God’s	universe	is	itself	one	big	loving	intention,	and	when
you	align	your	own	intentions	with	His,	you	set	in	motion	a	kind	of	wind	at
your	back. Hatred	and	fear	don’t	have	this	cosmic	support;	while	they	have	power,
they	don’t	have	
spiritual
	power. And	they’re	spiritually	powerless	when
confronted	by	a	genuine	love. There	are	terrible	things	in	the	news	today,	but
as	much	darkness	as	there	is	out	there,	there	is	more	love	
in	here. Perhaps
that’s	what	the	bigger	problems	of	the	world	are	here	for,	in	some	way:	They
challenge	us	to	dig	deeper	into	ourselves	for	who	we	really	are	and	how	we
might	choose	to	live	differently. Martin	Luther	King,	Jr. ,	said	that	it’s	time	to
inject	a	new	kind	of	love	into	the	veins	of	human	civilization. That	love	
is
rising	up	today. It’s	a	new	kind	of	thinking,	a	great	turning	of	the	heart. In	every	area—from	medicine	to	education	to	business	to	media	to	politics
to	the	arts—there	are	people	expressing	new,	more	enlightened	modes	of
being	and	behavior. And	each	of	us,	no	matter	who	we	are,	can	align
ourselves	with	a	better	idea. Whether	it’s	something	as	simple	as	using	a
different	kind	of	lightbulb	in	response	to	global	warming	or	working	to
rebuild	a	neighborhood	school,	joining	in	a	group	meditation	or	forgiving
those	who	have	trespassed	against	us,	we	can	participate	in	a	new	wave	of
creation. When	we	consciously	dedicate	ourselves	to	creating	a	more	lovingplanet,	then	that	which	is	not	love	will	fall	of	its	own	dead	weight. And	when	all	of	this	comes	together,	the	world	will	change	in	the	twinkling
of	an	eye. Dear	God,
I	place	the	world	in	Your	hands. Please	use	me
to	make	things	right. Amen
Chapter	Nine
W
E	
A
RE	THE	
W
ORLD
P
articularly	as	we	get	older,	our	spirits	as	well	as	our	bodies	need	more	quiet
time,	more	reflection,	more	immersion	in	the	magic	of	just	
being. That
doesn’t	mean	we’re	retreating	from	the	world,	so	much	as	we’re	moving	into
a	deeper	experience	of	it. For	the	world	is	in	fact	a	whole	lot	bigger	than	what
we	see	with	our	physical	eyes. Part	of	the	value	of	the	aging	process—and	I
did	say	that,	yes:	the	
value
	of	the	aging	process—is	that	it	delivers	us
naturally	to	realms	in	which	we’re	not	quite	so	tethered	to	the	realities	of	the
material	world. It’s	not	so	much	that	we’re	“losing	it”	as	that	we’re	
finding
	it. I	find	it	utterly	liberating	to	have	forgotten	certain	things;	thank	
God
	I	forgot
them. And	that’s	not	to	minimize	scary	monsters	such	as	the	fear	of
Alzheimer’s. It’s	just	to	keep	some	of	our	changes	in	perspective. I	don’t	think	as	quickly	as	I	used	to,	I’m	sure	of	it. Nor	do	I	speak	as
quickly	or	move	as	quickly. But	it	seems	to	me	that	I	
think
	more	deeply. It’s
like	I	understand	things	in	the	round. I	
WOKE	UP	ONCE	TO	A	LATE-NIGHT	EPIPHANY	THAT	SHONE
	like	a	neon	pronouncement:	that
the	key	to	human	salvation	lies	in	our	living	for	each	other. I	know,	I	know. Hardly	new. But	at	the	moment	it	came	to	me,	it	seemed	big	and	profound. Obviously	we’ve	all	heard	the	concept	before,	but	aren’t	we	stymied	by
what	it	actually	means. Does	it	mean	that	we’re	supposed	to	give	all	of	our
possessions	to	the	poor. How	does	that	work	in	terms	of	our	worldly
responsibilities. Are	we	not	supposed	to	have	a	home	for	our	children. Aren’t
we	supposed	to	provide	for	them. And	is	it	bad	to	enjoy	nice	things. In	
A	Course	in	Miracles,
	it	says:	“To	have,	give	all	to	all. ”	But	sometimes
you	look	at	the	material	world	and	think,	
Well,	surely	it	can’t	mean	that…. The	line	I	heard	in	my	head	that	night	was	not	“Give	away	everything	you
own. ”	It	was	“Live	for	others. ”	And	I’ve	wondered	what	the	world	would
look	like	if	we	did. We’ve	been	so	thoroughly	programmed	to	look	out	for	number	one,	asthough	“me”	is	so	much	more	important	than	“we. ”	But	the	shift	from	living
for	ourselves	to	living	for	others	is	clearly	the	spiritual	imperative	calling
humanity	back	to	the	garden. What,	then,	about	healthy	boundaries. Does	living	for	others	mean	I’m	to
give	everyone	everything—as	in	my	time,	my	energy,	my	money,	my	heart. I’ve	tried	to	do	that	…	be	the	paragon	of	self-sacrifice	…	never	having	time
for	myself,	making	myself	wrong	for	wanting	to	take	care	of	me,	always
running	around	trying	to	please	or	do	for	others. And	it	got	me	nowhere. If
anything,	it	left	me	angry,	resentful,	vulnerable	to	thieves,	and	feeling	much
more	stuck	in	a	rut	on	my	spiritual	path	as	opposed	to	being	sped	up	on	it. Wrecked	half	the	time,	I	rarely	showed	up	as	my	best	for	anyone. Healthy	boundaries	
are
	loving;	they	show	respect	both	to	the	person	who
sets	them	and	to	the	person	who’s	asked	to	honor	them. I	think	it’s	best	to
seek	a	balanced	life,	at	peace	with	ourselves	and	our	own	loved	ones;	then
when	we	do	turn	our	attention	to	the	world,	we	can	bring	so	much	more	to	it. We	bring	a	higher	version	of	ourselves. According	to	
A	Course	in	Miracles,
	sacrifice	has	no	place	in	God’s
universe. Taking	care	of	ourselves	in	a	righteous	way	
is
	meaningful	service	to
a	greater	task	because	we	cannot	give	what	we	cannot	be. From	that	space	of
peace,	and	the	moderate	behavior	it	produces,	comes	more	than	enough
money	and	time	and	energy	to	give	to	the	world. Service	is	very	serious	work,
but	codependency	it	is	not. So	how,	then,	do	we	live	for	others. The	best	I	can	come	up	with	is	that
service	is	a	way	of	being. It	means	I	can	make	the	person	who	just	carried	my
bags	into	the	hotel	room	feel	how	much	I	truly	appreciate	what	he	did	for	me. Tip	him	generously	as	well,	of	course,	but	match	the	tip	with	an	attitude	of
honor	for	what	he	does. Both	are	important. It	means	that	in	any	moment,	as
part	of	my	spiritual	practice,	I	can	do	what	I	can	to	show	love	and	respect	for
the	person	in	front	of	me,	or	on	the	phone	with	me,	or	whatever. Most	of	us	have	more	contact	with	other	human	beings	each	day	than	we
might	realize,	and	with	every	encounter,	there’s	a	chance	for	a	miracle. There’s	the	person	behind	the	counter	when	you	bought	your	coffee. The
person	on	the	phone	when	you	made	that	call	about	getting	your	dryer
serviced. The	person	who	washes	the	windows	in	your	office	building. It
might	not	seem	like	much,	this	tiny	little	droplet	of	compassion	added	to	the
universe	when	you	show	up	more	kindly,	but	the	important	point	is	not	what	it
did	for	the	universe. The	point	is	what	it	did	for	
you
—it	changed	
you
—and
that	is	how	it	shifts	your	world. Holiness	is	determined	by	a	shift	in	purpose. Anything	we	do	that	honors
only	ourselves	is	simply	a	spiritual	dead	end. There’s	no	cosmic	blessing
supporting	it. But	anything	done	with	others	in	mind—even	if	it	involves
caring	for	ourselves	so	we	can	be	more	prepared	and	available	for	service	to
others—carries	the	blessing	of	a	loving	universe. Consider	a	vacation,	for	instance. It	betters	you	to	give	your	body	and	mind
a	rest	every	once	in	a	while. A	holiday	increases	the	healthy	bonds	among
partners,	mates,	friends,	and	family. The	principle	of	service	doesn’t	require
you	to	avoid	joyous	opportunities;	if	anything,	joyous	people	are	more
productive. The	more	you	care	for	the	world	around	you,	the	more	the
universe	is	likely	to	provide	the	rest	that	feeds	your	soul	and	keeps	you	going. There’s	time	for	fun,	and	there’s	time	for	work. The	relationship	between
the	two	seems	to	be	a	pattern	within	all	natural	systems;	you	can	feel	it	in
your	gut	whether	you’re	on	or	off	track. When	your	life	is	all	fun	and	no
work,	you	feel	unclean	somehow. When	it’s	all	work	and	no	fun,	you’re	out	of
balance	and	hardly	of	use	to	anyone. In	fact,	it’s	because	the	problems	of	the
world	
are
	so	serious	that	we	need	to	do	whatever	it	takes	to	lighten	up
sometimes. One	of	the	ways	you	know	you’re	in	the	flow	is	if	you’re
seriously	of	service	and	seriously	enjoying	yourself	at	the	same	time. It	feels
right	because	it	
is
	right. At	the	deepest	level,	our	needs	are	all	one. I
N	THE	LAST	FEW	YEARS	WE’VE	SEEN	AN	INTERESTING	TREND
:	The	“second	career”	has
become	a	new	buzz. People	who	have	spent	20,	30,	or	40	years	achieving	one
thing	then	take	up	something	else. What	used	to	be	seen	as	retirement	age	is
now	seen,	if	the	person	wishes,	as	simply	career	Phase	Two. Rather	than
thinking	of	the	second	career	as	an	anticlimax	or	“just	a	little	something	I	do
to	stay	busy,”	people	end	up	seeing	the	first,	perhaps	more	flashy	work	as	a
prelude	to	something	more	important	that	they’re	meant	to	be	doing	with	their
lives. They	view	achievements	that	were	the	height	of	their	material	success
to	have	been	preparation	for	an	even	greater	success—the	means	by	which
they	learned	the	skills	they’d	ultimately	need	to	make	their	biggest
contribution	to	the	world. The	new	midlife	becomes	a	time	when	the	
Sturm	und	Drang
	of	our	more
youthful	years	is	alchemized	into	the	highest	manifestation	of	our	talents:
something	useful	not	only	to	ourselves	but	to	others. It	might	take	ten	years	to
discover	how	to	build	a	business	and	then	another	ten	to	learn	how	to	be	the
most	compassionate	human	being—add	ten	more	to	find	out	how	to	be	the
best	mate	or	parent,	and	somewhere	around	our	50s	or	60s	we’re	ready	to	liveour	most	shining	lives. From	people	who	have	hated	their	jobs	for	decades	and	now	burst	free	at
last	to	live	their	true	calling	to	those	who	have	loved	their	careers	but	still
reach	for	something	more	meaningful	in	midlife	or	beyond,	something	is
happening,	making	it	clear	to	everyone	that	closing	shop	is	not	the	pulse	of
this	moment. An	interesting	example	of	the	second-career	phenomenon	is	Bob	Daly—
who,	after	serving	as	the	chairman	and	CEO	of	Warner	Bros. for	19	years,
decided	to	resign	and	eventually	became	chairman	of	the	board	of	Save	the
Children. Having	achieved	a	job	that	by	modern	American	standards	would
be	considered	the	height	of	success,	he	now	defines	“success”	in	a	more
expanded	way. Daly	lived	the	American	dream	and	then	added	to	it. He	started	his	career
right	after	high	school,	working	in	the	accounting	department	at	CBS	for	its
lowest-paying	job	of	$41	a	week. Progressing	from	there,	he	lived	out	the
career	fantasies	of	a	generation. Loving	television,	he	ended	up	running	a
television	network. Loving	movies,	he	ended	up	running	a	movie	studio. Loving	baseball,	he	eventually	bought	a	piece	of	the	Los	Angeles	Dodgers
and	ran	it	for	years. Yet	clearly,	he	says,	the	best	is	what	he’s	doing	now. Daly	says	that	he’s	never	looked	back,	never	wondered	if	he	made	the
wrong	decision	by	leaving	the	pinnacle	of	the	corporate	world. Save	the
Children	has	opened	him	up	to	a	world	he	knew	nothing	about. Most	people,
he	says,	know	neither	the	scope	of	suffering	among	the	children	of	the	world
or	the	scope	of	the	humanitarian	efforts	to	save	them:	“You	see	a	few	clips	on
TV,	but	you	don’t	really	know. Once	you’re	in	the	room	with	people	who
have	been	doing	this	their	whole	lives,	who	have	decided	from	college	that
money	would	not	motivate	them,	you	just	think,	
These	people	are	so	special. “I	made	plenty	of	money	in	my	life,	and	I	was	very	happy	and	had
tremendous	satisfaction,”	he	continues. “But	this	might	be	the	most	rewarding
thing	I’ve	ever	done. ”	He’s	getting	what	he	calls	more	“psyche	income”	now,
with	the	satisfaction	of	knowing	that	he’s	using	his	prodigious	managerial
strengths	to	help	alleviate	the	suffering	of	children	around	the	world. Daly’s	departure	from	Warner	Bros. caused	a	debate	among	his	friends:
“They	understood	my	wanting	to	go	run	the	Dodgers. But	this…. Some
people	understood,	but	some	people	thought	I	was	insane. ”
Bob	Daly	is	part	of	a	new	trend—among	his	peers,	his	fellow	Americans,
and	his	contemporaries. From	those	who	give	time	as	volunteers	to	those	whogive	vast	amounts	of	money,	there	is	a	growing	realization	that	each	of	us
needs	to	do	what	we	can	to	address	humanity’s	most	urgent	problems. Daly
senses	something	good	in	the	air:	“Charity,”	he	says,	“has	become	chic. ”
And	that	is	a	very	good	thing. A	new	tide	of	humanitarian	passion	is	on	the
rise,	as	a	sleeping	giant	of	a	generation	has	begun	to	awaken,	registering	with
alarm	that	while	it	slept,	huge	problems	were	brewing. A	50-year-old	today	might	have	20,	30,	or	even	40	good	work	years	left. We	still	have	time. But	this	is	a	moment	on	the	planet,	if	ever	there	was	one,
when	all	hands	are	needed	on	deck. And	it’s	not	just	young	hands,	with	their
physical	power,	that	are	needed. Also	needed	are	the	hands	of	those	who	are
guided	by	the	wisdom	only	years	can	bring. If	we’re	anywhere	near	midlife
today,	we	carry	within	us	a	memory	of	a	time	when	the	world	we	live	in
seemed	more	full	of	hope. That	hope	is	missing	now,	and	our	job	is	to	restore
it. At	the	beginning	of	2007,	I	had	the	thrill	of	attending	a	New	Year’s
celebration	in	honor	of	the	opening	of	Oprah	Winfrey’s	Leadership	Academy
for	Girls	in	South	Africa. Oprah	often	quotes	Emily	Dickenson’s	line	of	“I
dwell	in	Possibility. ”	Clearly	she	does,	opening	greater	spaces	of	possibility
for	millions	of	others	as	well. I	am	one	of	them. And	on	that	visit	to	Africa,
new	doors	of	understanding	were	opened	in	my	heart. While	traveling	in	the	bush,	we	stopped	in	various	places	to	rest. I	will
always	remember	how	we	washed	our	hands:	Imagine	being	greeted	by	a
beautiful	African	woman	in	her	native	clothes,	holding	a	wooden-and-brass
pitcher	and	bowl. You	slightly	reach	out	your	hands	so	that	she	can	pour	soap
on	them	for	you;	afterwards,	she	pours	warm	water	over	them,	the	bowl
catching	the	water	as	it	falls. Washing	your	hands	has	become	something
more	than	that;	it	has	become	some	sensual	ritual	full	of	meaning	and	grace. You’re	receiving	more	than	soap	and	water;	you’re	washing	away	more	than
your	physical	dirt. If	the	woman	had	been	washing	my	feet	or	I’d	been
washing	hers,	I	could	not	have	felt	more	absolved	or	blessed. All	these	years
I’d	been	washing	my	hands,	and	it	was	though	I’d	never	really	known	what	I
was	doing. One	day	after	a	safari	ride,	having	heard	a	priestess	call	us	home	to
humanity’s	cradle	(“Your	umbilical	cord	is	buried	here”),	we	were	treated	to	a
spectacular	feast	under	a	tent	lit	by	candlelight. Someone	at	my	dinner	table
mentioned	how	the	kings	and	queens	of	old	African	tribes	had	been	the	first
to	be	taken	into	slavery. I	looked	around	at	the	other	guests,	including	some	of
the	leading	artistic	and	cultural	figures	of	contemporary	African-Americansociety,	and	I	mused	that	they	were	at	least	figuratively	those	kings	and
queens	reincarnated,	come	back	now	to	reclaim	their	connection	to	Africa. The	descendants	of	slaves	had	risen	to	such	prominence	and	glory	that	they
could	return	to	their	ancestral	land	with	privilege	unimaginable	
200	years	ago. As	dinner	ended,	dancers	came	out	to	perform. Gradually	they	magnetized
the	dinner	guests	from	their	seats;	black	Hollywood	stars	began	dancing	with
native	Africans	to	their	native	beats. Lifetimes	loosened	before	my	eyes,	and	I
felt	privy	to	a	genuinely	prophetic	moment. Watching	modern	and	ancient
worlds	share	molecules,	I	felt	God	stretching	out	His	hand	in	what	felt	like	a
final	offer	to	humanity. We’re	being	assigned	a	task	that,	if	performed	well,
carries	such	fundamental	redemption	potential	that	it	will	cancel	out
otherwise	inevitable	and	terrible	consequences	of	our	behavior	as	a	species. I	got	it. I	saw	it. I	heard	it. I	felt	it. A-F-R-I-C-A. There’s	something	about
saving	the	mother	continent	that	will	help	save	her	children	everywhere. Dear	God,
In	these	momentous	times,
please	pave	a	path
by	which	the	world
can	repair	itself
before	it	is	too	late. Use	me,
in	any	way	You	wish,
to	turn	the	dark	into	light. Amen
T
HE	POVERTY	IN	THE	WORLD	TODAY	IS	STAGGERING
:	350	million	children	in	this	world	go
to	sleep	hungry	every	night. The	amount	of	sheer	human	despair	on	this
planet	makes	the	status	quo	unsustainable. We	are	now	in	the	midst	of	a	great	revolution,	a	quantum	leap	from	one	era
of	human	history	to	another. Things	are	going	to	be	radically	different	over
the	next	few	years,	as	we	will	enter	either	a	new	age	of	darkness	or	a	new	age
of	light. I	remember	when	Barbra	Streisand	used	to	sing	“The	Best	Things	in	LifeAre	Free. ”	And	so	are	the	most	powerful	things. Compassion. Reading	to
children. Mercy. Tender	touch. Sweet	thoughts. Forgiveness. Prayers. Meditation. Love. Respect. Peace. These	things	cost	a	lot:	B-52s. Long-range	missiles. Military	helicopters. Tanks. AK-47s. Artillery	guns. Field	cannons. F-16s. Rotary-wing	aircraft. Littoral	combat	ships. Joint	strike	fighters. Artificial	limbs. War. The	chilling	truth	is	that	if	we	do	not	end	war,	war	is	likely	to	end	us. In	the
words	of	Albert	Einstein,	“I	know	not	with	what	weapons	World	War	III	will
be	fought,	but	World	War	IV	will	be	fought	with	sticks	and	stones. ”
In	a	world	where	the	means	and	amount	of	means	of	mass	destruction	are
so	extraordinary	(the	destructive	capacity	of	the	entirety	of	WWII	is	like	a
grain	of	sand	compared	to	our	destructive	capacity	today),	war	is	no	longer	a
sustainable	or	even,	in	the	long	term,	
survivable
	option	for	the	human	race. In
the	words	of	Congressman	Dennis	Kucinich,	“We	must	challenge	the	belief
that	war	is	inevitable. ”	It	is	the	moral	task	of	our	generation—not	our
children’s	generation	or	their	children’s	generation	(there	is	no	time	for	that)
—to	take	a	stand	for	a	world	that	has	moved	beyond	the	insane,	self-
destructive	militarism	that	dominates	international	relations	today. I	can’t
believe	that	even	now,	American	leaders	are	talking	about	war	like	it’s	a	little
boy’s	set	of	Legos. In	truth,	war	only	creates	victims. The	people	who	are	killed	are	victims
and	the	people	who	are	sent	to	do	the	killing	are	victims	as	well. Post-
traumatic	stress	means	not	only	the	trauma	of	remembering	having	seen
people	killed;	it	just	as	often	means	the	trauma	of	remembering	
having	killed. War	is	monstrous	and	should	be	seen	as	such. To	go	into	war	as	anything
other	than	a	truly	last	resort,	much	less	for	cooked-up	reasons—or	to	greet	it
with	rallying	cries	like	it’s	a	sports	event—are	the	signs	of	a	nation	having
lost	its	heart,	for	sure,	and	possibly	its	mind. This	attitude	is	not	pacifism	per	se. We’re	living	in	an	era	that	poses	a	new
set	of	questions. Other	generations	could	argue	about	the	moral	validity	of
this	war	or	that	war;	we	don’t	have	the	luxury	of	that	debate. Our	moral
challenge	is	to	move	beyond	war,	period. Some	seem	to	think	that	we	can	continue	to	manufacture	more	nuclear
bombs,	put	weapons	into	outer	space,	create	ever-more-pernicious	methods	of
chemical	warfare,	and	make	further	sales	of	arms	to	other	countries	to	the
tune	of	hundreds	of	millions	of	dollars—not	to	mention	embark	on	further
military	misadventures—without	ultimately	starting	to	lose	our	own	cities	andour	own	people	in	massive	numbers. Such	people	are	either	in	such	denial,	or
so	blind,	or	possessed	of	such	cold	hearts,	that	they	should	never	again	be
endowed	with	either	our	governance	or	our	trust. Anyone	who	doesn’t	understand	the	wave	of	new	thinking	and	enlightened
perspective	that’s	sweeping	the	planet	today	is	someone	whose	time	in	power
should	end. There’s	a	new	conversation	in	the	air,	and	all	of	us	should
contribute	our	voices	to	it	as	best	we	can. It	is	time	to	redesign	the	world—not
along	traditional	economic	geopolitical	lines,	but	along	deeply	humanitarian
ones—in	which	the	amelioration	of	unnecessary	human	suffering	becomes	the
new	organizing	principle	of	human	civilization. It’s	easy	to	laugh	at	baby	boomers	when	we	say	such	things. After	all,	isn’t
that	what	we	said	in	the	’60s. And	what	did	that	lead	to. Well,	it	led	to	the
end	of	one	war,	and	that’s	not	nothing. And	it	arguably	would	have	led	to
much	more,	had	Bobby	Kennedy	and	Martin	Luther	King,	Jr. ,	not	died	in	part
for	believing	it. The	mistake	of	the	’60s	generation	wasn’t	that	we	didn’t	have
the	right	goal;	it	was	that	we	didn’t	yet	realize	that	we	ourselves	must	be	the
means	by	which	the	goal	is	achieved. In	the	words	of	Gandhi,	“The	end	is
inherent	in	the	means. ”	We	must	
be
	the	change	we	want	to	see	happen	in	the
world,	
because	otherwise	the	change	will	not	happen. We	didn’t	know	that
then	but	we	know	it	now. We’re	more	sophisticated	about	politics,	and	we’re
more	sophisticated	about	love. We’re	becoming	what	author	Andrew	Harvey
calls	“sacred	activists. ”	We	got	here	late,	but	we	got	here. We	arrive	with	gray	hair	and	irony:	The	generation	that	declared	war	on
hypocrisy	has	become	among	the	most	hypocritical	of	all;	the	generation	that
sought	to	replace	guns	with	flowers	has	more	often	replaced	flowers	with
guns;	and	looking	at	the	clock,	we	have	about	ten	minutes	left	to	awake	from
our	stupor	and	retrieve	our	moxie. Our	greatest	failure	now	isn’t	one	of	politics	so	much	as	of	imagination. We
need	to	
imagine
	a	world	at	peace,	and	then	work	backward	from	there. The
world	can	only	be	at	peace	when	more	of	its	people	are	fed,	housed,	and
educated;	when	more	of	its	people	are	given	the	medical	care	they	need;	when
more	of	its	women	are	free;	when	more	of	its	opportunities	are	available	to
more	of	its	population;	and	when	more	of	its	resources	are	shared	equitably. These	things	wouldn’t	just	“be	nice”—they’re	essential	keys	to	a	survivable
future. Imagine,	for	a	moment,	the	$600	billion	or	more	a	year	that	the	United
States	now	spends	on	our	military	and	defense	(and	that	does	not	include	the
war	in	Iraq). Going	back	30	years,	what	if	we’d	spent	the	majority	of	that
money	on	such	humanitarian	concerns	as	mentioned	above. What	if	morepeople	in	the	world	had	seen	American-flag	decals	on	schools,	roads,	and
hospitals	in	their	communities	than	on	military	installations. Would	it	have
been	so	easy,	then,	to	stir	up	so	much	hate	against	us. Is	it	possible	that	there
wouldn’t	even	have	been	a	
9/11. Such	questions	are	ridiculed	by	the	political	status	quo,	but	at	this	point	no
conscious	person	is	stopped	by	the	derision	of	the	status	quo. Those	who	look
at	the	world	today	through	a	lens	more	relevant	to	the	way	things	were	60
years	ago	are	not	the	ones	to	lead	us	forward. We’ll	move	forward	only	with	a
new	vision	of	where	we	want	to	go. And	there	is	no	way	we	can	get	there	if
we	forget	our	deep	humanity. We	need	to	do	more	than	just	defeat	an	enemy;
we	need	to	create	more	friends. In	the	words	of	Martin	Luther	King,	Jr. ,	we
must	make	the	world	a	“beloved	community. ”
Politics	and	economics	have	to	mirror	our	spirituality	or	else	they	mock	it. Humanity	will	change;	the	only	issue	is	whether	we	do	so	because	we	grow	in
wisdom	or	because	the	pain	of	not	changing	becomes	so	intense	that	we	will
have	no	choice. A	nuclear	bomb	would	ruin	everyone’s	day	and	everyone’s
business. There	is	nothing	astute—financially,	or	in	any	other	way—about
doing	whatever	we	want	to	do	without	worrying	about	its	effect	on	others. Such	thinking	shoud	be	repudiated	now. It’s	time	to	transcend	modernity’s
limited	perspective	and	lay	claim	to	a	more	enlightened	worldview. It’s	said	that	when	Ralph	Waldo	Emerson	visited	Henry	David	Thoreau	in
jail	after	he	was	sentenced	for	his	protests	against	the	Mexican-American
War,	he	asked	his	friend	what	he	was	doing	in	there—and	Thoreau	responded,
“What	are	you	doing	
out	there. ”	That’s	how	it	feels	to	be	someone	shouting
“Foul. ”	at	the	top	of	your	lungs	today;	anyone	who	isn’t	doing	so	must	be
nuts. Age	gives	you	a	sense	that	what	you	know	is	what	you	know,	and	whoever
doesn’t	agree	with	you	no	longer	has	the	power	to	make	you	change	your
mind	or	shut	you	up. The	only	justification	you	need	for	having	an	opinion	is
that	it’s	your	opinion. You	might	be	right	and	you	might	be	wrong,	but	under
no	condition	will	you	be	silent	about	what	you	believe	any	longer. As	Jesus
said	in	the	Gospel	of	Thomas:	“That	which	you	have	will	save	you	if	you
bring	it	forth	from	yourselves. That	which	you	do	not	have	within	you	will
kill	you	if	you	do	not	bring	it	forth. ”
One	of	the	ways	we	can	give	birth	to	a	new	world	is	by	speaking	it	into
existence. And	
love
	is	not	a	weak	word. One	word,	one	prayer,	one	book,	one
speech,	one	conversation,	one	poem,	one	script,	one	song	at	a	time	
…	we	will
speak	of	love,	and	our	word	will	prevail. “M
INE	EYES	HAVE	SEEN	THE	GLORY
	of	the	coming	of	the	Lord:	/	He	is	trampling	out
the	vintage	where	the	grapes	of	wrath	are	stored;	/	He	hath	loosed	the	fateful
lightning	of	His	terrible	swift	sword:	/	His	truth	is	marching	on. ”
I	remember	watching	Judy	Garland	sing	those	lyrics	to	“The	Battle	Hymn
of	the	Republic”	on	television	after	the	assassination	of	President	Kennedy. I
was	too	young	to	appreciate	the	full	import	of	what	was	happening,	but	I
could	tell	from	my	parents’	tears	and	Judy	Garland’s	performance	that	this
situation	was	bad,	and	that	it	was	history. A	mental	snapshot	of	Garland
singing	that	song	has	stayed	in	my	head	for	over	40	years. Its	message	is	still
one	of	my	favorite	affirmations	that	no	matter	what	happens,	no	matter	how
much	cruelty	or	injustice	fills	the	world,	God’s	truth	will	somehow	prevail. I	have	a	friend	who	has	been	in	prison	since	she	was	17	years	old. She	is
now	34. Her	crime	was	that	she	drove	the	car	in	a	marijuana	sale	during
which	someone	was	killed. Later	that	night,	after	more	than	nine	hours	of
intense	interrogation	by	the	Detroit	police,	a	confession	to	having
masterminded	the	drug	sale	was	manipulated	out	of	her. (“Just	sign	here,	and
you	can	go	home	to	your	mother. ”)	No	reading	of	Miranda	rights;	no	presence
of	counsel. And	now	this	beautiful	woman,	who	at	the	age	of	17	would	not	in
a	million	years	have	known	how	to	deal	with	police	pressure,	sits	in	a	prison
cell	unable	to	procure	the	commutation	of	her	sentence	that	any	reasonable
person’s	interpretation	of	justice	would	demand. She	dreams,	and	many
dream	for	her,	that	the	day	will	come	when	she’s	released	from	the	hell	of	her
confinement	and	is	free	to	live	out	the	rest	of	her	days	with	some	version	of	a
normal	life. I	once	asked	her	what	she	wanted	to	do	when	she	got	out	of	prison. I	told
her	that	as	soon	as	she’d	visited	with	her	family,	I’d	take	her	anywhere	she
wanted	to	go. I	was	thinking	a	spa. A	beach. Wherever. Her	response. Get	ready	for	this. Her	eyes	brightened. “CVS	pharmacy,”	she	said. “I	would	love	to	go	to
CVS. I	would	love	to	be	able	to	pick	out	my	own	shade	of	lipstick. I	hear	they
have	a	lot	of	them	there. We	only	get	one	shade	in	here. ”
Her	eyes	were	bright	with	hope;	my	eyes	were	bright	with	tears. And	on	any	day	when	I	feel	that	my	life	isn’t	exactly	what	I’d	wish	for	in
this	way	or	that,	I	think	of	Toni. If	you	still	have	the	chance	to	get	up	each
day,	do	basically	what	you	want	to	do,	and	make	every	attempt	to	make	right
what	went	wrong	before,	then	you’re	still	in	the	game. Some	people	mademistakes	in	their	past	for	which	they	cannot	just	atone	and	start	over. In	order	to	“[trample]	out	the	vintage	where	the	grapes	of	wrath	are	stored”
(cancel	out	hate)	and	“[loose]	the	fateful	lightning	of	His	terrible	swift	sword”
(
karma
	and	
justice
	are	gentler	words,	but	I’m	not	going	to	edit	Julia	Ward
Howe),	God	needs	our	help	as	much	as	we	need	His. Later	in	the	song,	Howe
wrote:	“As	He	died	to	make	men	holy,	let	us	live	to	make	men	free. ”	If	only. God	needs	us	to	surrender	ourselves	to	be	used	for	His	purposes. And	in
order	to	be	of	use	to	Him,	we	need	to	be	channels	through	which	He	can
operate. That	is	why	we	do	what	we	do—not	only	for	ourselves,	but	for	Toni
and	the	millions	like	her	who	we	know	in	our	hearts	could	so	easily	have	been
us. A
ND	THEN,	OF	COURSE,	AT	THE	END	OF	ALL	THIS
—after	all	the	years	of	yearning	and	strife,
achievement	and	disappointment—we	will	lay	down	the	body. All	of	us	hope
for	that	tunnel	of	light,	the	otherworldly	peace	we’ve	read	about,	and	the	joy
of	feeling	that	in	the	final	analysis,	this	lifetime	wasn’t	bad	at	all. Death	has	been	called	our	“next	adventure,”	and	the	older	we	get,	the	more
that	seems	to	ring	true. In	the	words	of	Carl	Jung,	
“Shrinking	away	from
death	is	something	unhealthy	and	abnormal	which	robs	the	second	half	of	life
of	its	purpose. ”	That	doesn’t	mean	death	is	something	to	be	excited	about,
necessarily. But	it’s	something	to	be	accepted	in	faith—faith	that	nothing
exists	outside	the	love	of	God,	the	perfection	of	God,	or	the	plan	of	God. If
He	has	us	leave	here,	then	it’s	by	definition	into	greater	light. For	myself,	the	greatest	sorrow	of	death	is	the	thought	of	leaving	those	I
love	the	most. But	then	I	think	of	those	I	love	who	have	already	died,	whom
I’ll	get	to	see	again. And	I	think	of	those	I	might	leave	behind	when	I	die,	but
who	themselves	will	cross	over	and	join	me	on	the	other	side	one	day. The
smallest	child,	even	if	blessed	with	the	longest	life,	will	someday	die. So
whether	our	train	is	faster	or	slower,	we’re	all	on	our	way	to	the	same
destination. And	in	God’s	universe,	the	only	destination	is	Love. Knowing	that	we	will	die	doesn’t	make	life	less	important;	in	fact,	it	makes
it	more	important. The	realization	of	our	mortality	creates	a	sense	of	urgency
to	use	life	wisely,	to	appreciate	it	fully,	to	love	more	deeply	while	we’re	still
here	and	we	still	can. There	is	a	magical	thinking	to	youth:	Most	young
people	have	the	secret	thought	that	they’re	the	one	who’s	going	to	cheat
death. (“Death	wouldn’t	dare	take	me. ”)	And	with	that	false	sense	that	life
will	last	forever	comes	a	casual	disregard	for	how	serious	it	is. When	I	wasyoung,	the	only	things	I	took	seriously	were	seriously	unimportant	things. It
was	only	with	age	that	I	came	to	see	how	important,	how	very	truly
important,	is	the	simple	existence	of	life	itself. When	you’re	young	it	never	occurs	to	you	that	when	you	call	a	friend	it’s
not	one	of	an	endless	number	of	times	you’ll	have	the	chance	to	do	so. Once
you	fully	appreciate	that	every	experience	in	the	material	world	is	finite,	you
realize	how	amazing	it	is	just	to	be	able	to	make	a	phone	call. As	my	friend
Sarah	often	says,	“Time’s	a-wastin’. ”	Isn’t	that	the	truth. We	presume	on	things	we	have	no	idea	are	so	fleeting. When	we’re	young,
we	don’t	know—except	intellectually,	and	even	then	we	don’t	really	believe	it
—that	we	won’t	always	have	endless	energy	or	glow. When	age	forces	us	to
see	how	much	is	now	gone,	we	are	shocked	and	hurt	to	realize	all	the	things
that	are	over	and	will	not	come	again. But	then	something	happens	when	the	shock	wears	off	…	something	subtle
yet	immense. What	happens	is	counter	to	the	thinking	of	the	world. We’d
always	seen	older	people	at	dinner	or	at	the	theater,	and	we	looked	down	on
their	diminished	lives	with	pity. What	we	failed	to	realize—how	could	we
then. —	was	that	many	of	these	men	and	women	were	existing	in	a	parallel
universe	where	they	looked	at	
us
	as	the	pitiable	ones,	having	not	yet	realized
what	life	was	about	or	even	really	for. They	were	having,	perhaps,	more	fun
than	we	knew. They	were	seeing,	perhaps,	what	we	had	not	yet	seen. What
has	happened	now	is	that	we’ve	entered	their	room. And	it	isn’t	what	we	had
expected. It’s	whatever	we	
want
	it	to	be. Dear	God,
As	I	age,
make	me	ever	more
the	person	You	would	have	me	be. For	I	would	know	the	joy	of	life
before	my	days	are	done. Amen
I	
INTERVIEWED	A	WOMAN	ON	MY	RADIO	SHOW
	who’d	had	lupus	for	two	decades;	had
been	married	to	a	man	for	many	years	who	told	her	on	Christmas	Eve,	while
she	was	wrapping	her	small	children’s	presents,	that	he	didn’t	want	to	bemarried	anymore;	had	lost	one	of	her	children	suddenly	in	a	violent	accident;
and	is	now	married	to	a	practicing	alcoholic. I	felt	such	admiration	for	her	that
she	simply	wakes	up	each	morning	to	face	another	day. Any	one	of	those
things	might	have	knocked	me	out	for	years. I	don’t	know	what	it	is	that	keeps	us	coming	back	up. When	I	think	of	what
people	have	experienced—from	Auschwitz	to	Rwanda	to	Iraq	to	everyday
Americans	just	trying	to	survive—I	can	hardly	stand	it. Sometimes	I	think
that	the	oceans	are	a	material	manifestation	of	humanity’s	tears. Clearly	there
is	some	tenacity,	some	deeper	longing	to	keep	keeping	on,	that	lies	at	the
heart	of	the	human	experience. I	don’t	think	we	cleave	to	life	for	no	other
reason	than	that	we’re	afraid	of	death. I	think	we	cleave	to	life	out	of	a	deeper
knowing	that	there	is	something	about	it	that	has	not	happened	yet. Like
salmon	rushing	upstream,	we	instinctively	know	that	we	are	here	to	continue
the	process	of	life. That	we	
are
	the	process	of	life. And	as	such,	we’re	here	to
contribute	to	a	larger	drama	than	our	individual	selves	could	ever	fathom,
much	less	describe. At	the	end	of	Stanley	Kubrick’s	movie	masterpiece	
2001:	A	Space	Odyssey,
an	infant	is	seen	floating	through	outer	space. Surely	that	is	the	ultimate	goal
here:	the	birth	of	a	new	humanity. Yet	if	that	child	is	to	be	born,	someone
needs	to	parent	it—and	that	means	you	and	me. Conceived	in	our	minds	and
hearts,	it	will	be	breast-fed	by	our	compassionate	action. And	this	new
delightful	and	delighted	being	is	gestating	inside	us	all. Wars	and	rumors	of
war	abound,	that	is	true. But	people	continue	to	fall	in	love. People	continue
to	atone	for	their	mistakes. People	continue	to	forgive	and	to	ask	for
forgiveness. And	people	continue	to	hope	and	pray. The	point,	when	staring
death	in	the	face,	is	to	proclaim	more	life. And	we	are	doing	that. I	believe	in	a	compassionate	God,	for	Whom	it	takes	only	one	moment’s
epiphany,	one	moment’s	prayer,	one	moment’s	genuine	and	humble	desire	to
do	right	by	love	to	inspire	His	intervention	in	the	irresponsible	drama	of	a
reckless	humanity. As	we	look	not	back	nor	forward,	but	deep	within,	we	see
a	light	that	is	greater	than	the	darkness	of	the	world,	a	hope	that	surpasses	the
understanding	of	the	world,	and	a	love	that	is	greater	than	the	hatred	in	the
world. Seeing	that	light,	we	shall	follow	that	light	through	the	birth	canal	toward
humanity’s	rebirth. While	our	labor	is	long	and	in	some	ways	hard,	we	are
being	born	to	something	huge	and	precious. We	are	being	born	to	our	own
true	selves. And	we	will	never	settle,	ever	again,	for	being	less	than	we	truly
are. Dear	God,
May	love	prevail. Amen
A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS
There’s	usually	only	one	name	on	the	cover,	but	most	every	book	is	in	some
way	a	collective	effort. Never	was	that	more	true	for	me	than	in	writing	this
one. My	deepest	thanks	to:
Maya	Labos,	for	starting	the	ball	rolling	that	would	bring	me	to	Hay	House. While	not	a	literal	homecoming,	it’s	a	homecoming	nevertheless. Reid	Tracy,	for	offering	me	a	home. Louise	Hay,	for	being	so	hot	and	happening	at	80. Shannon	Littrell,	for	generous	and	insightful	help	with	the	manuscript. Jill	Kramer,	Amy	Rose	Grigoriou,	Courtney	Pavone,	Jacqui	Clark,
Margarete	Nielsen,	and	Jeannie	Liberati	at	Hay	House—for	a	profound	blend
of	excellence	and	kindness. Wendy	Carlton,	for	the	wonderful,	tough	editing	that	both	teaches	and
inspires	me. Section summary: 

This passage is a collection of philosophical musings on love as an essential force in human life that has been lost or forgotten due to various societal factors such as addiction (using substances like oil for comfort instead of confronting pain from past traumas). The author emphasizes how relationships can be transformative experiences despite their limited duration ("Temple experience"). However,

•   acknowledges  there are issues with couples not allowing each other space

    • explains it's necessary spiritual evolution within ourselves before we take up our roles globally. Note : this chapter may include some quotes  
It seems you need help summarising long texts. Here 'll provide accurate concise summaries about given sections based upon your request. Let me know which part do u want summarize first. Would you prefer any special formatting requests. Note - if no guidance provided then i will assume default format would work fine but please let us now so. If possible could explain what does "Spiritual transformation" means here. From my perspective, these passages speak more than just words they convey deep meaning & depth into understanding humanity' s journey through struggles. Can't wait hear back about next steps towards getting started. Best regards. ```





Here is a summarized version of selected parts:


**Section starts**
Summary



* **Part C**: Course in miracles says love restores reason. *
Love brings clarity/stability/courage while facing challenges. ### End Summary ### 



#### Request Help ###
Do tell when ready. Also asking clarification regarding Spiritual Transformation concept mentioned in one point :
Can someone briefly describe its significance. Thankfully yours. ---

Waiting patiently for feedback.
The author suggests that it is not the years together, but rather the respect and honor we show to each other, and the willingness to grow and change together.
According to the author, what is the key to long-term relationships?
The author believes that the concept of "evil" is not a rational or spiritual concept, but rather a manifestation of our own inner darkness. They argue that we should not try to fight or overcome it, but rather acknowledge and forgive, as we would with a friend.
What is the author's perspective on the concept of "evil"?
The author emphasizes the importance of humility and self-awareness in relationships. They argue that true growth and transformation come from acknowledging our own flaws and limitations, rather than trying to assert our own power or control over others.
What is the author's view on the role of the ego in human relationships?
The author does not advocate for sacrifice as a means to achieve a goal, but rather encourages people to find their true purpose and passion, and then align their actions with that.
What is the author's stance on the concept of sacrifice?
The author strongly condemns war and violence, emphasizing that it is a destructive and unsustainable path. They argue that we must move beyond this paradigm and find a new way to resolve conflicts.
What is the author's perspective on the concept of war and violence?