June 30, 2025
OUT ON A LIMB
“Wisdom begins when you realize you don’t know what you think you know.” (Socrates)
The other morning my quiet time was disturbed by a minor ruckus in the nearby Jatropa tree. What I first took to be a particularly clumsy mating dance turned out to be two fledgling sparrows trying to get a foothold on the tree’s spindly limbs. That accomplished, they settled their puffed-up feathers for a few minutes before launching on a wobbly course to the rooftop opposite, and thence out of sight. A few minutes later I spotted a third fledgling hopping around nervously on an adjacent roof beam, seemingly working up the courage to dash to the same tree. Which it did, momentarily. And, after similarly gathering its composure, suddenly darted off in the direction of its feathered friends.
This little scenario got me thinking of the stops and starts on the spiritual journey — how one flounders around, hopping from one tract or thesis or teacher to another, searching for a spiritual home. It has lately been easier to track my own spiritual trajectory by rereading passages from the memoir I wrote a few years ago, and that a friend recently returned to me. After skimming over a few chapters, my first observation was: “If I had to write this again, I wouldn’t.” Then, rather than be embarrassed for having committed to print what was really just a passing phase in a lifelong process, I gave myself kudos for admitting that I no longer know what I thought I knew!
The thing that best sums up where I see myself today, some four decades after starting my spiritual journey, is a comment David Brooks makes in his “Moral Bucket List”. He describes an end goal on the road to character as having “achieved a settled philosophy about fundamental things.” In terms of my own philosophy, I’ve learned that tolerance, acceptance, compassion and understanding go a long way to keeping me balanced and happy.
I’ve learned to trust my inner compass. To place greater value on time spent with friends and family than on personal goals and achievements. (Though I’m inordinately proud of having biked in this year’s Lavaman relay…) Meaningful dialogue means a great deal to me. But I’m also better at enjoying my own company.
More importantly, I’m not so in thrall to my big important story. I’ve just begun to understand what Socrates meant by: “Wisdom begins when you realize you don’t know what you think you know.” Unbeknownst to my ego, I’ve made a shift from wanting to teach what I know to wanting to learn what I don’t know. Ruumet calls this the “apotheosis of the ego.” It is a time when so much of what mattered to me when I was younger — particularly how I was perceived by other people — no longer motivates me. I no longer daydream about being a famous artist and/or influential writer. Instead, what now motivates me is to start my day in a mood of keen attentiveness and profound gratitude.
Most days begin with a journal entry, jotting down whatever thoughts or feelings come to mind as I’m waking — sometimes I’ll also analyse a dream — all in an attempt to start my day with maximum clarity. Then I chant the mantra that was given to me in 1993 by Swami Sivananda Radha Saraswati, to dissipate any residual emotional energy. Not many people I knew in the early ‘80s were “into” the things that intrigued me; Kundalini and Dream yoga, Vedanta philosophy, Buddhist psychology, and other esoteric teachings. The latter disciplines and practices better prepared me for the time we lost most of our possessions, money and sense of security in the economic downturn of the early ‘80s. After losing most of our possessions and money (including the family business) in that downturn, I realized that the truly important things, my marriage and family, were still standing.
This was brought home even more clearly when, at eighteen months of age, our youngest child contracted meningitis and was hospitalized for close to a month. Such a health scare brought my priorities into sharp focus, and now, four decades later (and despite having felt out of step with my surroundings for much of that time), I’m reaping the benefits of having committed to a spiritual path for the better part of my adult life. As twenty-one of my nearest and dearest gather to celebrate my 75th birthday, I look around with wonder, and immense gratitude for all the experiences we’ve shared, all the hills and valleys we’ve surmounted, all the ways I’ve learned to live more consciously in the context of family and community.
Socrates also said: “The secret of happiness, you see, is not found in seeking more, but in developing the capacity to enjoy less.” I did not win the Nobel prize. My face never graced the cover of Time Magazine. My paintings didn’t break records at Christie’s. I was never featured in O magazine, nor hosted my own TV show. And I never had huge crowds paying blind homage to me.
Thank goodness for small mercies.
And Happy Birthday to me!