 Y Not 2K?by Alan Cohen The question du jour is not, “What do I need to do to protect myself from the coming disaster?” but, “What part of the mind, individually and collectively, would take something as bright and beautiful as a new millennium, and try to turn it into a tragedy?” A Course in Miracles teaches that "pure love calls forth everything unlike itself," and likewise great change is always perceived as a threat to the fearful mind. But the Course also tells us "all change is good" and "trust is the bedrock of the entire thought system of the teacher of God." As I hear more talk of chaos on the eve of the millennium, I see en masse a pattern I have noticed in my own life. Whenever I am about to make a quantum leap spiritually, socially, or materially, a streak of resistance bubbles forth, screaming, “You can’t do that! You’re stepping into the unknown! Hold onto the familiar while you still can!” When I have the presence of mind to move ahead with faith, that shrieking voice is revealed to be not that of divine guidance, but ancient fear. So I have learned how to make fear my friend. When it shows up, I know I am about to step out of the circle that once circumscribed my world, and discover a bigger universe. I am not surprised, then, that the changing of a year, decade, century, and millennium should call forth massive unrest. I am reminded of a time when I was about to move from one house to another, and had cleared all of my furniture out of my living room. My dog, sensing the world she had known was now in disarray, became extremely nervous, and, in an uncustomary manner, chased my car down the driveway when I made a simple trip to the store. She did not realize all was well, the change was good, and the next home she would live in, would offer her an even bigger yard and more room to play. What surprises me is the extent which spiritually-minded people are selling out to hype and hysteria. Recently I attended a party where Y2K took over the discussion, and quickly the energy field became infiltrated with the vibration of sensationalism, self-defensiveness, and small-mindedness. In contrast to the loving and empowering discussion that preceded it, suddenly lack, powerlessness, and personal interests dominated. Speakers took macabre pleasure in gloating over alleged statistics of the backlog in generator availability, how much money Bank of America is paying to ward off Y2K woes, and minutia of previous obscure computer failures. Calmly I left the room. I have come too far on my spiritual path to meander down the highway of fear. Many years ago I studied with a psychic teacher who made many authoritative predictions about the end times to come. Claiming to have been psychically visited by Nostradamus, the teacher issued dates and gory details of many worldwide calamities and disasters to take place between 1981 and 2000. Motivated largely by fear and self-protection, over a hundred students got together and formed a survival community. We bought land in a remote area, dug and built underground bunkers, buried huge gas tanks, and bought tons of survival food. I was personally responsible for ordering the food, which eventually filled a barn. We worked long and hard to ready ourselves for economic collapse, worldwide famine, and nuclear fallout. Thank God we never got guns. One day, after about five years, I had two sudden realizations: (1) I had sold my faith out to fear, and as I immersed myself in protection from a future disaster, I was missing out on the beauty and abundance available in that moment: and (2) the predictions the teacher made for that time period had not come to pass. I decided there had to be more to life than living in a cold dank bunker, and would rather live in joy, appreciation, and celebration, rather than protecting myself from a looming doomsday. Peacefully I left. Twenty years have come and passed since the day the end of the world was announced. None of the teacher’s predictions materialized. The teacher was sincere, and truly sought to help the students build a better world. But the information was incorrect. Either it came from a faulty source, or there was a consciousness shift that changed the dynamics of the game. But there was a hidden blessing. I loved being a part of a spiritual community. I felt deeply enriched working side by side with my peers, and, aside from the disaster scenario, we had great times. We sang, meditated, laughed, and grew together as a family. I look back on those community years as some of the most nourishing of my life. Now I think hardly at all about the survival element, and think very fondly about the family element. So in the long run I gained a great deal — not from the disaster, but from the love. We don’t need to scare ourselves to get together. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt, and it’s too small. But we can look fear in the eye and ask, "What is the deeper lesson here?" ¤ |
