Two ways of being

It has long been a roadblock to my formation of a cohesive paradigm that there seem to be two useful ways of being in this universe. The one, which we will call Horizons-being in honor of a personal development class I took, consists of getting off your lazy ass and willing whatever it is you want into existence. As it turns out, this way of being is remarkably effective. If one wants a better job, for example, it really does work to simply declare it and throw your intention behind it. The problem lies in the fact that there is another, equally fundamental way of being that I will call zen-being for obvious reasons. I believe, for example, that there are certain things we are not meant to have right now and will not achieve through even the clearest and most forceful pursuit. For instance, my current experience is that Horizons-being does not serve me in the search for love. At the same time, can I really justify sitting still and waiting for love to fall into my lap? The conflict between these two equally legitimate ways of being has been a source of confusion for me, and as a result I have vacillated and achieved nothing important--until now.

Here's a passage from the Bhagavad Gita that finally cleared it up for me:

"Therefore, without being attached to the fruits of activities, one should act as a matter of duty, for by working without attachment one attains the Supreme."
3:19, Bhaktivedanta translation.

An important distinction is drawn here between our actions and the results of our actions. It is impossible (or at least undesirable) to function completely without taking action. While it would be possible for me to minimize action to the very barest of essentials by adopting a monastic lifestyle, I refuse on the grounds that I am determined to actively share my light with others. I can, however (and please don't think of me as some profound sage; this just occurred to me yesterday although I've been familiar with this text for years), eliminate the desperate, grabbing aspect of whatever action I take. Say, for instance, that I want to meet a romantic match. Horizons-being would involve constantly chatting up complete strangers and not taking no for an answer. Allow me tell you that, although I am handsome, fun and smart, this hasn't worked. Zen-being, on the other hand, would involve complete acceptance of solitude and indifference to romance. While I don't claim to have ever been this zen, it doesn't matter because I really am not okay with, in twenty years, not having an intimate other to hold and confide in, "I'm scared." No matter how many other good things I have in my life, I refuse to play alone. What the Bhagavad Gita suggests, however, is that one can act in concert with one's goals without getting broken and turbulent when things don't look as expected. I know, for instance, that the surest sign of an action's growth value is its scariness. Therefore, it is incumbent upon me to talk to people whom I find attractive in the name of my own growth. I needn't, however, become disjointed and beat myself up for not being committed when I get the stiff-arm.

Allow me to put it in my own words: I can only confidently say that what exists in my life is meant to exist if I have taken the action that I am meant to take. If I have refrained from action out of fear, pride, or comfort, then what exists in my life is not what is meant to exist. If I have acted bravely and honorably, then I can be certain that whatever my life looks like, it is meant to look that way.

And I am so energized by these words that I think it just possible you can feel my spirit vibrate as you read them. Whoever reads this, I love you.