This selection about the cure for society's problems comes from Chapter 11: Looking Into the Truth,
A Simple Trick of Grammar Can Help You Find the Truth
I really just want to have a simple, hooked-up, plugged-in knowledge of what I am: a beautifully fragile, flawed, creative, and potentially loving expression of Divine Source; along with my wife, my kids, my occupation, a nice meal on the table, and a little sunshine on my face…but it’s just not going to happen that way all of the time. I need some tools to help lift me over the self-created obstacles that block my spiritual view, especially when I like those obstacles. I need ways to trick my ego into leaving the room, so I can lock the door behind him and be happy in a room full of transcendent connectedness—a room with a view of Heaven.
In this human form, I find material life is like a vacuum—especially since it comes with so many attachments. It's easy to get sucked into all of the common biases, day-to-day definitions, and material demands of my life. While I can forget my divine connections in an instant, it seems that any time I’m not truly present, I can instantly become obsessed with all the material things that "I am supposed to be." I can quickly forget my own Divine Source.
All of the temporary aspects of my life—the externals—have always been changing, even when I don’t want them to; and it’s the instinctive, unconscious effort to control these changing parts of life that sucks us in, isn’t it? One of the best spiritual tools I’ve ever come across is a simple language trick that helps me divide what parts of my life are always changing from what parts aren't. It may be obvious to you that grammar isn’t my strong suit, but even an amateur analysis of sentence structure can help open the window in my heart up to a superior view of of The Divine, in a way.
All of the temporary aspects of my life—the externals—have always been changing, even when I don’t want them to; and it’s the instinctive, unconscious effort to control these changing parts of life that sucks us in, isn’t it? One of the best spiritual tools I’ve ever come across is a simple language trick that helps me divide what parts of my life are always changing from what parts aren't. It may be obvious to you that grammar isn’t my strong suit, but even an amateur analysis of sentence structure can help open the window in my heart up to a superior view of of The Divine, in a way.
Ramana Maharshi, a wonderful 20th century Indian swami, put his finger right on an important point of fact when he simply said (and I paraphrase): “The only important part of "I am this, or I am that" is the "I Am" part. It is always the second half—the "this or that" part that is the problem.” With that helpful grammatical foot up from the good Swami, we can see the distinction between the start of those statements we make about ourselves, "I am," and the finish, "this or that," and what an easy way it is to separate spirit from the material:
"I am bored; I am an American; I am still waiting to get paid for that job; I am victimized by my landlord; I am smarter than all of those people are; I am detaching from that; I am very spiritual."
What changes and what doesn't change in all of those statements? You'll notice the second part, the "this or that" object is what changes, or can always change. It’s the movable part. The first part, the subject "I Am" always stays the same. So if we simply drop the second part, the first part is our connection to the eternal Self—the part that we all share! In this easy, open-ended way, we’re directed straight into the mystery, the common ground that we all spring from and stand upon. It's how we are all the same. That little I Am can compassionately connect us to each other, and to all of Nature, all the plants and animals, the oceans and the Earth—even to the stars and the Universe itself. It’s a pretty big trick for such a little bit of grammar.
Then it’s hard not to notice how that second part grammatically separates us from The Divine, by opening the door to our painful regrets, fantasies, expectations, and sense of self-entitlement:
“I was once the Homecoming Queen; I was really the first person to use that technique; I am more deserving of that promotion than anyone else; I am going to lose weight.” I am quite sure that none of that really matters.
Just catching ourselves and stopping at "I am" immediately reconnects us to the real substance of Life, and appropriately disconnects us from the unnecessary desires, fears, conceits, and the like—our troublesome attachments to the vacuum of the material.
Read about this and much more in:
