Quest Magazine

Printed in the Winter 2013 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Boyd, Tim. "Viewpoint: Why Can't We All Get Along?" Quest  101. 1 (Winter 2013): pg. 8.

 By Tim Boyd

Recently I have found myself wondering.  The text of the question would be something like, "Why do we keep repeating these same mistakes?", or "When will we ever learn?", or in the famous words of the late Rodney King, "Why can't we all get along?". The catalyst for this line of thinking is not some recent event, or some despondency over the state of the world. It is just one of those persistent questions that reemerges from time to time. Pick a day, any day, look around you and see if it isn't a question worth asking. Whether it is the world news, the office, or the home, if we really look at it we see that there is work we need to do. 

Any parent with a young child can tell you that this "why" line of inquiry is challenging. If persisted in, it has a way of ending up at the door of the unknowable. Why is the sky blue? Because the molecules in the earth's atmosphere scatter the blue waves more than the rest of the spectrum. Why do the molecules scatter the blue waves more than the rest of the spectrum? Because it is the nature of oxygen and nitrogen to absorb the other waves. Why is it  the nature of oxygen and nitrogen to absorb the other waves. Because... It all leads to one or two ultimate answers, either "I don't know", or  "God made it that way, and don't ask me any more questions!" 

As with many things perhaps it is not the specific answers which are valuable, but the process of exploration and openness that comes with questioning. The fact that any question, diligently pursued, must naturally exceed our intellectual grasp should not deter us.  In the words of the poet Robert Browning, "A man's reach should exceed his grasp, or what's a heaven for". Our quest for knowledge begins with an assumption — that it is possible to know. Really, it is deeper than a mere assumption. Somewhere inside of us there is an intuitive, unassailable awareness that all knowledge is available to us.

Not too long ago while cleaning around the house I got something in my eye. Try as I might I could not get it out. All of the usual methods and tricks just could not dislodge it. I had no idea what it was, but I knew it was big. Honestly, it felt like a boulder had lodged itself in my eye. After a day and a night of constant discomfort I went to an eye doctor. He sat me down in his chair, focused the light on my eye, rolled back the eye lid, and removed the offending object. The sense of relief was immediate. For the past twenty-four hours I had gone about my normal duties doing my best to give them the proper attention, but the whole time my thoughts had been centered on the throbbing discomfort in my eye. When I asked the doctor to show me the particle I was amazed at its size. It was no bigger than the period at the end of this sentence. 

Thinking about it later, the whole thing seemed a bit incongruous. A particle that almost required a magnifying glass to be seen, something maybe one one-millionth the size of my body had fully taken over the field of my attention. The physical discomfort it entailed fixed my attention, first on the pain, and second on how to get away from it. Ideally, I was looking for a cure, but in the short term I would have settled for something to dull the pain or distract me from the suffering. 

When Buddha had his awakening and he delivered his first teaching, the first of his Four Noble Truths was the truth of suffering. It was an expression of the fact that living in the realms of body, emotion, and mind necessarily involves suffering on many levels, from the grossest physical pains to the subtle, pervasive awareness that nothing is constant or secure. During his life he often referred to himself as a doctor saying that his work was to prescribe a cure for this most basic of human maladies. In countless ways he noted that our methods for distracting ourselves from suffering, or dulling our sensitivity to it were not merely unproductive, but assured that the basic condition would continue and even grow. 

Some familiarity with the ageless wisdom teachings gives a sense of how we might approach the problem. They describe the process by which all things come into being. Simply put, there is Spirit, the One Life, which clothes itself in ever denser layers of "matter",  each successive layer serving as the vehicle for the expression of the previous, less material one. We are composed of everything from highest spirit to lowest matter. What we describe as our personalities — the combination of physical, emotional, and mental attributes — are the densest vehicles for the hidden spirit. A variety of terms have been used to identify these different vehicles of consciousness — koshas, principles, planes, fields, even "bodies". In the terminology of Theosophy we have the atma, buddhi, manas...progression. The central idea is that this process has its beginning and ending in Spirit — the One Life. 

So why can't we all get along? One of the reasons has been expressed in a variety of ways across spiritual traditions. It has also been expressed in the wisdom of popular common sense phrases. One such phrase is "the squeaky wheel gets the grease" - the idea that the loudest voice will be heard and attended to. In our case that voice is the clamor of desires and thoughts constantly calling out to be heard and satisfied. The technical term used to designate this dimension of human consciousness is kama-manas — the mind of desire. Even though the most powerful dimensions of our being lie outside of this narrow band of consciousness, we find ourselves habituated to serving the wants of this desiring mind which by its very nature continually places us in conflict with countless others whose differing desires seem to compete with ours. 

H. P. Blavatsky, in The Secret Doctrine, put her finger on the problem and its solution.

"Whatever plane our consciousness may be acting in, both we and the things belonging to that plane are, for the time being, our only realities. As we rise in the scale of development we perceive that during the stages through which we have passed we mistook shadows for realities, and the upward progress of the Ego is a series of progressive awakenings, each advance bringing with it the idea that now, at last, we have reached "reality"; but only when we shall have reached the absolute Consciousness, and blended our own with it, shall we be free from the delusions produced by Maya [illusion].

I have known people living in major cities who never left their neighborhood, never traveled so far as downtown. I have also known people who have traveled around the world, but never met or talked with the people who support their luxurious lifestyle, those that they viewed as servants — cooks, waiters, bell hops, drivers, farmers. In both our outer and inner life we tend to suffer from a lack of exposure. We are often content to find comfort in the familiarity of our current condition rather than risk the unknown.

The ray of hope for all of us is found in a simple fact. When it becomes clear that the suffering we experience and the collateral suffering we cause through our unintelligent living is just too much, we will decide that we have had enough. In the words of civil rights activist  Fannie Lou Hamer, "All of my life I've been sick and tired, but now I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired". The extremity of our discomfort drives us to find a better way. When this realization finally dawns on us we embark on the great experiment of self transformation. It is then that we  respond to the wisdom teachings and begin to acquaint ourselves with deeper dimensions of our own being. We study what has been said about these deeper layers. We take quiet time to first approach them, then immerse ourselves in that "field" that Rumi described as "out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing". Gradually we can establish a "new normal" for ourselves, a state that no longer requires conflict and competition for us to feel alive. This possibility is something which is available to us at any moment. In our quieter moments when we are alone and still we can sometimes feel it. As Dane Rudhyar writes in his  book, Occult Preparations for a New Age:

The Ocean of Infinite Potentiality surrounds us; we live, move, and have our being in it, but most of us refuse to feel, refuse to see, so wrapt are we in our frantic agitation, our fear, our masochistic concentration on how much we suffer. Such a suffering is in vain and calls for endless repetition. We must become still, and "feel" the soundless sound of the vast tides of spirit lapping at the shores of our consciousness, or perhaps beating at the jagged rocks of our pride and our greed. We must turn our consciousness toward this inner sea and try to sense the end of a cycle of experience peacefully moving into the yet imprecise and unfocused beginning of a new cycle. We must dare to summon the potentiality of an essentially new and, for us unprecedented beginning.

Peace.

Printed in the Winter 2013 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Boyd, Tim. "Presidents Diary" Quest  101. 1 (Winter 2013): pg. 34.

By Tim Boyd

In July we held our Summer National Convention (SNC) at Olcott. It seems like ancient history now, but just one year ago our convention was built around the Dalai Lama's visit. This year's meeting was stellar.  In the past when the meetings ended, on a few occasions I found myself saying, "this is the best conference we have had." Whatever I may have said previously will have to be corrected because this year's was the best conference we have had. Really. The convention theme was "Science, History, and Healing — the Many Faces of the Ageless Wisdom". It featured theosophical historian Michael Gomes, physicist and movie icon Amit Goswami, director of the Krotona school Maria Parisen, healer and clairvoyant Robyn Finseth, director of research for the groundbreaking Heartmath Institute Rollin McCraty, and no less than Joy Mills herself.

A couple of weeks after our convention ended it was time for the International Theosophy Conference (ITC). A year ago we had agreed to host the event at Olcott. The ITC is an international meeting that every year for more than a decade has brought together members from the Theosophical diaspora — the various Theosophical groups that have formed during the history of the movement. This year there were attendees from the Point Loma group based in Holland, the United Lodge of Theosophists, Alexandria West, the Paracelsan Order, and numerous individuals with diverse affiliations. In all a little over one-hundred people attended with participants coming from Europe, North and South America, and Africa. 

Immediately after the ITC closed my wife, Lily, and I were on a plane then a ferry headed for Camp Indralaya on Orcas Island in Puget Sound. I had been asked to participate in a program they call "Connections". My long time friend and TS coworker, Linda Jo Pym, before she died had suggested to me and to the event planners that I might be a good fit. Although I can't speak for the folks who attended, I can say for me that it was a wonderful experience. My part was to lead the daily discussions. The Connections program brings together about 70 people from age eight to eighty years old — families, friends, longtime camp members, new attendees — for a week of discussions, work, performance, and play. Everybody pitches in to make it happen — cooking, cleaning, working on building renovations, in the garden, playing spirited volleyball, the ones who didn't play were cheering for and occasionally critiquing those of us who did. It is a fine example of Theosophy in action. I have been invited back next year. A no-brainer. 

Every year for the past eleven, the first Saturday after Labor Day has been the time for our open house festival, TheosoFest. Historically during the summer months we have curtailed our programing in preparation for the SNC. Our programs resume in September. TheosoFest has been our way of kicking off the new season, inviting the local community to come out for a day of fun, a variety of talks on theosophical subjects, food, children's activities, meditation workshops, and vendors of all types. It is always a big deal for us that requires months of planning. The day's activities officially begin at 10 and go until 5 in the afternoon. The program for the day evolves from year to year. This year we had almost 40 talks presented at five locations on campus. The main categories were 45 minute Theosophy and related subjects, 45 minute meditation talk and practice, and a day of 15 minute talks in a large tent outdoors. Again this year we also had a well attended "Kids Korner" that featured a full day of kid friendly activities - yoga, storytelling, face painting, live music, even "Herbal Medicine for Kids" with Dr. Martha Libster. This year we had almost 1600 people attend. 

Also in September we had two significant inter-religious events. The first was an event which featured the Bahai religion. One-hundred years ago Abdul Baha, the son of the founder of the Bahai faith and leader of the faith at that time, visited the United States. During that visit on a number of occasions he met with theosophical groups. Valerie Dana who is the director of the Bahai National Assembly in the USA gave a Thursday night talk. During her talk she read from one of Abdul Baha's messages delivered at the Washington DC Theosophical Society. She also took time to elaborate on  some of the aspects of the Bahai faith. As the newest of the major world religions (dating back to 1863 and having six-million followers) it is quite remarkable how many important similarities it shares with Theosophy. 

A few days later we hosted the Inter-religious Prayers for Peace. This is a twice yearly event that brings together people from across the spectrum of religions to share prayers from their various traditions. The program is organized by Mahzer Ahmed, a long time friend of the TSA and recent member, who was born and educated in India and comes from the tradition of Islam. Mahzer has been active on the interfaith scene for years with the Parliament of World Religions and in numerous other outreach avenues. She and her husband, Hamid, founded a mosque in the local area. The meeting was quite well attended. When the prayers ended everyone was invited to our dining area for an Indian meal prepared by none other than Mahzer herself. We should have more programs like this — fattening the spirit and the body. 

The month closed with our second annual staff picnic, again organized by Mark and Kim Roemmich. It was a relaxing day for walks in the forest preserve, plenty of barbecue delights, and our annual round of bacci ball. Last year we made the mistake of dividing teams into male and female. It turned out to be a humbling disproof of any idea of male superiority. This year no myths were exploded. We played mixed teams. Last year's picnic claimed perfection on all counts. This year was its equal, just a little colder weather. Mark has promised that next year he will take care of the weather. I didn't ask how.

Printed in the Winter 2013 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Smoley, Richard. "From the Editor's Desk" Quest  101. 1 (Winter 2013): pg. 2.

Abundant food is one of the great blessings of our era. Unfortunately, the very quantity and variety of the food that's available to us create problems for our inner lives.

A hundred years ago foreigners regularly commented about the puritanism that Americans displayed about sex. Much has changed since then. We have become remarkably frank about sex. You can stand in the supermarket checkout line and see the blurbs on covers for women's magazines about having incredible orgasms and discovering the hottest sex secrets men don't want you to know. On the other hand, over the last generation it seems that a great deal of the discomfort towards sex that Americans once felt has been displaced onto food. Today food in practically all its forms induces a tremendous amount of anxiety. Advertisers even play to this occasionally. A few years ago a brand of especially rich ice cream used the slogan "Enjoy the guilt."

 Granted, there are reasons for this anxiety. Obesity rates are high and continue to soar higher. And many of our biggest health problems—diabetes, heart disease, and some forms of cancer—are caused by bad dietary habits. But it seems that everywhere you turn, there seems to be some reason for not feeling right about the foods you eat. This is true even of things that are usually considered beneficial. Fruits and vegetables cause fear because of the pesticide residues they may have in them. Rice, I learn from a recent issue of Consumer Reports, has been found to contain high quantities of arsenic. Even wheat, the most universal of foodstuffs, has come under suspicion, as increasing numbers of health problems have been traced to gluten.

Much of this apprehension is well-grounded, but soon a subtle dynamic comes into play. We feel guilty about eating something; this guilt makes us feel bad; and the bad feeling is itself a kind of punishment. Thus having paid the price for our behavior by beating ourselves up internally, we feel free to repeat the behavior. I suspect that many types of eating disorder have their root in this cycle.

The point is that guilt is not a solution for our food-borne anxieties; it is in large part the cause of them. While there is certainly every reason to consider one's dietary choices soberly and consciously, it's also wise to be realistic with yourself about what you are and aren't going to eat and make peace with yourself accordingly.

 What, then, about those who have made conscious and spiritually informed choices about their diet? Such people include Theosophists who practice vegetarianism. I would imagine that people in this category (and I am not among them) feel considerably less guilt and anxiety about food than most people. And certainly the decision to avoid meat is often inspired by the highest and most praiseworthy ideals, as Will Tuttle's article in this issue shows. But problems intrude here as well.

From an inner point of view, if you're following a diet that you consider to be superior to those of ordinary people, it can pose a subtle but powerful spiritual temptation. That temptation is known as pride. A number of the vegetarian Theosophists that I know occasionally give off a certain "stink of holiness" about their dietary practice, no matter how elevated its goals may be in and of themselves. While this attitude is sometimes unpleasant for others to be around, its greatest difficulty may be for those who practice it. It's a very short step from saying "Vegetarianism makes me a better person" to saying "Vegetarianism makes me a better person than people who eat meat." This kind of self-superiority can pose severe obstacles on the spiritual path.

 From an external point of view, the problem is similar. Some may find it tempting to sermonize about their practice. Not long ago, a seasoned observer of the Chicago spiritual scene said to me, "Whenever I go to the Theosophical Society, somebody gives me a lecture on vegetarianism." (Admittedly, this is probably less true today than it was years back.) For the most part, this simply doesn't work. As a rule people don't like preaching and won't be convinced by it. Preaching to the converted is so popular because it is the only kind that works; otherwise the hearer either stops paying attention or becomes even more firmly rooted in his resistance. I suspect that many people have been turned off to the Theosophical Society over the years not because of vegetarianism, but because of smugness about vegetarianism.

 What's the solution? Personally, I don't care for salesmanship. I believe it is possible to live and embody one's values without turning them into a commodity to be marketed. It makes me think of the Sufi order known as the "way of blame"—a group whose members make every effort to appear irreligious and nonobservant even though they are in fact highly devout. Should you become a secret vegetarian? Probably not. But there are times when it's valuable to know when to remain silent.

Richard Smoley

Printed in the Winter 2013 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Gillis, Anne Sermons. "Demonizing Food" Quest  101. 1 (Winter 2013): pg. 28-31.

By Anne Sermons Gillis

One of the less-examined areas of addiction is food addiction. It is estimated that eight million Americans have an eating disorder–seven million women and one million men. Celebrities with eating disorders include Elton John, Princess Diana, Nicole Richie, Jane Fonda, Joan Rivers, Britney Spears, and Lynn Redgrave. Eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of any mental illness.

In addition to eating disorders, we have disordered eating. We use food to cover up emotions and to dull emotional pain. Some authorities believe that over 65 percent of women and 45 percent of men have disordered eating patterns. These statistics point to a startling truth: our relationship with food is sick.

Over the past sixty years, the American diet has dramatically shifted. People moved away from nature and turned to the high-tech world. Technology spawned agribusiness, replaced family farms, and touched and changed all areas of human consumption. We exchanged Grandma's homegrown, love-filled butterbeans for a convenient microwavable pouch. Demeter and Ceres no longer bless our crops; instead, the Goddess is a steel-winged, poison-spraying angel who targets unwanted weeds and insects. This activity supposedly ensures a plentiful harvest.

Some people believe poor health is a direct result of pesticides, herbicides, and processed foods. After all, most processed foods contain sugar, white flour, unhealthy fats, or salt. Maybe this is not the whole truth. Maybe it is not changes in our food production or eating fast food that makes us unhealthy. Consider this thought. We allowed our food to be mass-produced, poisoned, and lose quality because we were already sick. Unhealthy food and food production are not the source of the problem. The sickness of our souls is reflected in the sickness of our foods. Sick people grow and eat sick food. People in harmony with themselves grow, buy, and eat nourishing food.

There's more to our food dilemma. There are so many opposing theories about foods that it is hard for to discern the healthy from the harmful. Probiotics are beneficial, but the yogurt I thought was a superfood turns out to be a mucus-forming, acid-based product. Countries whose people eat a diet high in dairy- and animal-based products have the highest rates of osteoporosis. What am I to believe? The whole-wheat organic bread I've been making for forty years has gluten. Turns out a lot of folks can't tolerate gluten.

Given the conflicting data, we turn food into demons. The problem with demonizing food is that our demons end up chasing us like the hounds of heaven. The age-old story is told in Genesis: when Adam and Eve were instructed to leave the apples alone, apples became the most desirable fruit in the garden. They could have eaten anything else, but what did they go for? They made a beeline for the apple tree. Adam and Eve revealed the forbidden fruit syndrome: what you can't have is what you will want the most.

Can you see why diets that cut out certain foods eventually fail? I have a friend who tries every new diet on the planet. When she gets ready to go on a diet, she starts eating more junk food—and greater quantities of food. It only takes the anticipation of a diet to spark her bingeing behavior. My friend knows she won't be allowed to eat certain foods, so the forbidden foods became even more appealing. Then she diets to lose the weight gained as a result of going on the diet in the first place.

Grandmother Rosa is a South American–born indigenous elder. Her liveliness captured the spiritually hungry at a medicine gathering in the '90s. Grandmother's spirit told her to stop making food her enemy. "Love all the food you eat," she was told. It didn't matter whether she ate bean sprouts or chocolate; she was to respect and love it all. Her change in attitude created amazing results. Not only did Grandmother Rosa lose weight, she lost the desire for many foods that didn't support her physical health. There is a big difference between sacrificing and losing desire. When we approach food from a point of sacrifice, we thwart our ability to achieve our goals.

I suggest an alternative to dieting and to believing in food magic. Love all the food you eat. Bless your food before you eat. In addition, spend time each day discovering who you are through prayer, contemplation, spiritual reading, and by being still and listening to inner wisdom.

Quantum physics delivered us from victimhood; it reveals that energy affects energy. Our thoughts are energy. Our food is energy. When done in openness, authenticity, and humility, prayer is a higher form of energy that affects our lives both physically and emotionally. Bring Spirit into your relationship with food. Don't pray like a beggar. "Please, please, help me, help me, help me." Don't whine. Bless your food. Bless your relationship to food. Let your trips to the grocery store be spiritual pilgrimages rather than burdensome everyday tasks. When eating out, be a radiant, joy-filled consumer rather than a holy terror to your server.

The following prayer is from my book Offbeat Prayers for the Modern Mystic. I took the prayer that my father and grandfather said and created a contemporary version. Use this prayer or find another creative and expressive form that will allow you to reestablish a wholesome attitude toward your food and your life.

New Grace 

Not only are we grateful for this food, but we are grateful to the essence that gave it form. We give thanks to that life force within the food that brings us vitality. May this food become a celebration of the immortality of life itself. May we be ever grateful for all of life's creations.

Bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies.
Bless these bodies to the service of our spirits. Amen. 

Recently, when checking out at the grocery, I had one of those quirky inspirations. I made a smiley face out of the fruits and vegetables I placed on the conveyor belt. I told the checkout woman, "Look, I made a present for you." She was delighted and shared her enthusiasm with fellow onlookers. I began to make a practice of honoring my food as I purchased it. Yesterday I made another face. I used broccoli as the hair and cucumbers as the horns. The checkout lady asked if she could disturb it to ring me up! Sometimes I just line up the groceries so they look orderly and bless the food as I place it on the conveyor belt. The first time I did this I was particularly prayerful. The man standing behind me said, "I like the way you place your groceries; you have a special way." It never occurred to me that someone would notice what I was doing.

The quality of our restaurants and grocery stores reflects the spiritual qualities of our lives. In the early '70s, I cultured my yogurt or went to the health food store on Thursdays. Dannon yogurt was delivered only one day a week, and if I didn't get there in time, I wouldn't be able to get any yogurt that week. About twenty years ago, a grocery store opened in my neighborhood. I walked the aisles looking at fresh whole-wheat breads without preservatives. Fresh herbs nestled beside organic fruits and vegetables. In fact, the vegetables and fruits made up the largest section of the store. This scene would be the norm in the west, but this store was in Memphis, Tennessee—home of Billy Bob and barbecue. I cried in gratitude. I cried because we are blessed by so many choices, because we are changing as a culture. I cried with compassion for those who cry lack in the midst of such great abundance, and I rejoiced for all that I had. I cried for those who will never see such opulence. I remembered the raging results of hunger and the look of sheer desperation in the faces of children in India, Brazil, and other Third World countries. The grocery stores of today can become our new temples when we allow the sacredness of life into our relationship with food.

It's tempting to want to straighten out our lives by embracing certain foods. Many believe food magic will fix everything, but a change in diet alone is never sufficient to heal the body. Our diets and eating habits cannot be corrected from the outside in—they must change from the inside out. As we begin to love ourselves, to appreciate our uniqueness, and to accept our dharmic place in the universe, our food regains its sacred place.

When our days and lives are consumed by planning what to eat, shopping for food, food preparation, deciding on a restaurant, eating, or cleaning up after we eat, it is important to be in harmony with food. Food is not the demon. The real demons are inside us. Our demons are the rejected and unloved parts of our Self. As soon as we can become the powerful works of spiritual art that we actually are, the demons in our foods disappear. We no longer need to project our inner fragilities onto our outer worlds. Eat well and prosper.

Anne Sermons Gillis is a member of the Houston Lodge. She is a minister, speaker, author, and life coach. She is the Ambassador of Joy and the founder of the EZosophy Philosophy.