Anima intelleciva . . . est substantia unicuique homini individualiter propria at spiritualis.

Many, many years ago I was embroiled in Latin and Greek languages while studying for a degree in philosophy. Not very often do I have occasion to recall something of this past life. The quote above loosely translates to – “a rational or intelligent soul is the very proper and spiritual substance of each and every human being as an individual.” What that means to me is that each one of us is not only intelligent by nature, but that each of us has a unique or individual perspective on reality—my emphasis is on individualiter. The quote’s author (Joseph Gredt) placed his emphasis, as is customary in the Latin tongue, on the last word spiritualis. Interpreting the sense of this emphasis after my own fashion, I conclude that this individual perspective is spiritual at its very core. Now you don’t have to buy into this codification of the soul that goes back to Aristotle and before him for two more millenniums of religious belief. But even the recent blip in this tradition introduced by materialistic science has begun to revert to the old wisdom which could be—and has been—called the perennial philosophy. Quantum physics has introduced us to a transcendent realm that appears to operate outside of time and to explain that intuitive realm from which we draw inspiration. Some have named it the quantum self. As a writer, I call that realm my muse. Others call it god. Whatever name you give the transcendent as the source of insight and intuition, it is apparent that we are all subjects at its court. We are both different in our individuality and alike in our spirituality.

Now, not quite so long ago, in the middle of a yoga class, my instructor began to philosophize on the spiritual underpinnings of yoga. I found his intellectualizing interesting, but somewhat distracting to learning the asanas. After the class he apologized for his remarks. Suddenly it hit me: my initial reaction, not his remarks, was completely inappropriate. I walked up to him and said, “You should never have to apologize for expressing your personal truth.” This young man—wise beyond his years—was sharing with us the meaning he had found in his yoga practice. The gift he was presenting to us was indeed unique in its personal and (yes) spiritual perspective. His initial revelatory insight was realized years before I met him. Undoubtedly, it was a turning point in his life. When he shared it with us in that class, he was manifesting the truest expression of his self—of his soul. The same insight that gave his life direction and meaning also touched the spirit of his students. We felt uplifted. For we all alike search for meaning in our individual lives and the personal authenticity it gives to us.

You were probably wondering where I was going with this “personal truth” theme. Well, I want to draw a dichotomy that is perhaps more vivid today than ever before because of mass media and social networking. We all know people who seem to know what they are about and pursue life with a passion. I know a woman who found meaning in life through her music. She shares that experience daily in classrooms where she teaches nearly 800 children each week. That same yoga instructor I just referenced now shares his yoga wisdom with students in Paris, Spain, Portugal and India as well as with us in the United States. I know a married couple who found shared meaning in their lives together not only in raising two beautiful children but also in exemplifying wholeness in body and soul. The husband started a company dedicated to the principles of naturopathy; the wife teaches Qi Gong to women and leads workshops in deep and sustainable healing. My point is that it is in our very nature to find meaning—our personal truth—and to make it the basis for that more subtle spiritual life that can connect us with our fellow humans. Oddly, we too often recognize this truth in its absence—the dark side of my dichotomy—specifically in the inauthenticity of those whose lives reflect no inner core. Sometimes we see this vacuity in our politicians, business leaders, and that strange pseudonym “celebrities.” Regrettably, some have yet to find any worthwhile truth to live by other than the thoughtless bromides of money, status, prestige, fame, power, and so on. Most especially, the pursuit of power for its own sake is a rakish, self-serving agenda that connects on no spiritual level with anyone. Those who adopt these delusions are inauthentic. They deny the basis of their humanity and can be truly called soulless.

I think it was Toynbee who once said that the American people are better than the politicians that govern them. Of course, that generalization does not apply in every case. But I wonder what meaning can be found in Washington nihilism—or “obstructionism,” in contemporary parlance. If there is no recognized common ground, then there must not be any shared meaning—that is, no valid, common perspective on anything. Rather, I believe, the tendency to oppose other perspectives out of hand is a denial of our true nature: a delusion born of inflated egos. Each of us has a responsibility to discover our personal truth and to live accordingly. If I’m right about that, then we must be open to all perspectives authentically expressed and lived. In our daily lives we make friends based upon common interests. We share lives with significant others based upon the same principle and mutual love. We inherently know the role of authenticity in these relations. So why do we put up with those who not only “behave badly” in the public domain but betray their very nature?

I am neither a liberal nor a conservative. The policies supported by different factions reflect pragmatic solutions of societal problems and should be judged on their effectiveness. But they also reflect the purpose of their sponsors. When we elect people to represent us, we are entrusting them to act in our best interests and to be authentic in their self-representation. They win that trust during campaigns when they share with us their personal beliefs and goals: the truths by which they conduct their lives. They justify that trust by maintaining their authenticity in office, namely by adhering to the personal truths that inform their actions. So there is a distinction between how we evaluate policy and character. For example, our President’s policies have earned him an approval rating hovering around 50% for most of his term in office. However, his personal approval rating has never dropped below 70%. As statistical measures, polls have some validity. But of greater import, in my opinion, is the human connection between the governed and the governing. This connection is overlooked at our mutual peril. We need first to find our own purpose and then relate to that which we find in those we elect to serve our common interest. If my personal truth is recognized by my spiritual brethren—which is all of you—then we are communicating on a level that transcends self-serving delusions. We are being authentic and truly soulful. We should expect nothing less from those we choose to represent us.

Today, during my daily “recreational” walk, I passed through the food plaza at a local dining/retail center. A small group of musicians were embellishing the moment with languorous country music, while folks were absorbing the atmosphere as they dined at outdoor tables around a softly splashing fountain. Some were my neighbors; and others were strangers sharing the social ambience. And so did I, just passing through.

Sometimes, the mere act of making eye contact with an absolute stranger can breed an indefinite connection. But my walkthrough was not a personal, one-to-one, encounter. Instead, I felt drawn into a shared moment, more a collective than a personal experience. Now there are two things I want to say about this experience. First, in that moment I was very much aware of the “now.” Life, after all, is nothing more than an accumulation of “nows.” To not recognize that fact is to miss the “living” part of living. Secondly, my awareness of the moment was shared, though unspoken and perhaps even unspeakable. What I mean by “unspeakable” is the inability of words to adequately describe a feeling. I can tell you about the incident of my walking through the food plaza, but when you connect with the feeling I’m trying to convey, you recreate it in your imagination after your own fashion. But you can’t truly explain it either, even though you “know” what I’m feeling.

Now if you’ll bear with me, I want to make a leap of generalization. Life, at least as I have experienced it, is all about this collective awareness. As I left the food plaza, the buoyancy of my step was light; my spirit and sense of well-being rose within me; and the realization of my connection with others hit me like an epiphany. Intuitions of this sort are unpredictable: a walk in the forest can suddenly make you feel alive, as can the act of holding your infant in your arms. But sharing a moment in awareness with fellow human beings is different in degree, if not in kind. It can be, and sometimes is, an excursion into the collective unconscious—that enveloping sea out of which all insight seems to rise. In this sense, the term “unconscious” is a misnomer, as any artist or mystic will attest when they describe the source of their insight or intuition. Somehow, you feel that intangible connection with eternity that even the sting of your personal mortality can’t diminish. You are uplifted into a different plane of existence where sheer awareness overwhelms any content of thought. Now, a behavioral scientist would probably scoff at my exuberance and point out the effect of endorphins on my emotional state. But I suspect that we are seeing things from opposite sides of the equation. Do chemicals produce these feeling states, or do these feeling states trigger the chemical reaction in our bodies? I think you can read the equation from right-to-left, left-to-right, or as simultaneous interactions of the mind/body. The incident I’m describing was of the latter type. For the truly contemplative, I suspect, the intuition always initiates the more general awareness and its corresponding feeling state.

If you think my leap has gone too far, then weigh it in terms of our personal mortality. “In that sleep of death, what dreams may come,” asked Hamlet? Normal sleep is still a state of consciousness, though we are generally not aware of it. (A waking dream-state is an exception—often experienced in the moment between deep sleep and full wakefulness.) But, to answer the question, there are no dreams after death. We are mortal. And yet in the “now,” we can feel part of something greater than our very limited time on this planet would seem to allow. We can transcend the moment. For us mortals the “now” is our threshold to eternity.