Good morning,
Years ago when I asked a friend to help guide me through a spiritual program of action, his response to me was, “Yes. Thanks for asking. I’d love to.” After I thanked him for agreeing to help me, he said: “I can’t wait to watch you wake up.”
At first I felt a tad offended. What do you mean, wake up? I thought. I am awake! Functioning well. Active. Good job. Sober. In a relationship. Creative. Some external notches of success. What did he mean, wake up?
Over the years, as my friend and I went through the work together, I realized that waking up meant I’d focus less on increasing the material and more on decreasing the intrinsic (e.g., fear, the need to be right, the need to know, taking actions solely to please others, control, etc.).
It’s been a little while since I’ve consistently and consciously prioritized the ways of being my friend encouraged me to try. But the other day, I came across a piece of writing that brought me back to that inner place where my friend so graciously guided me years before.
In a short essay titled “On Waking Up” – from his book Awareness: The Perils and Opportunities of Reality – the renowned therapist/Jesuit Priest/author Anthony de Mello defines “waking up” means to him:
“Spirituality means waking up. Most people, even though they don’t know it, are asleep. They’re born asleep, they live asleep, they marry in their sleep, they breed children in their sleep, they die in their sleep without ever waking up.”
These first few sentences of his piece are fine yet vague. It’s in this short anecdote where I really got what he meant:
“Last year on Spanish television I heard a story about this gentleman who knocks on his son’s door. ‘Jaime,’ he says, ‘wake up!’ Jaime answers, ‘I don’t want to get up, Papa.’
The father shouts, ‘Get up, you have to go to school.’ Jaime says, ‘I don’t want to go to school.’ ‘Why not?’ asks the father. ‘Three reasons,’ says Jaime. ‘First, because it’s so dull; second, the kids tease me; and third, I hate school.’ And the father says, ‘Well, I am going to give you three reasons why you must go to school. First, because it is your duty; second, because you are forty-five years old, and third, because you are the headmaster.’ Wake up! Wake up! You’ve grown up. You’re too big to be asleep.”
The paradox of “being asleep” is that it most likely takes something outside of me (another person or an unexpected situation) to show me the truth. But once I discover that I’m sleepwalking, it’s only me that can wake myself from the stupor. People can shout at me from the rooftops: “Wake up! Wake up! Go to work! Love your life! Enjoy your freedom!” But I usually can’t just think myself into becoming awake. I usually need to take actions contrary to what I feel like doing in order to get to this more awakened place. And many times these actions come at the suggestion of a respected and trusted person. But who wants to do what they don’t want to do?
No one will do the work for me. No one’s coming to save me. But with the lovingkindness and guidance of people in my life who care about me, I can slowly start to see what’s really going on and give myself a chance to open my eyes a little more each day.
In what ways might you be asleep? In what ways are you waking up? Who in your life helps you see the differences between the two?
Until next time,
Matt
P.S. Thank you to those who respond to my weekly letters. If you’d like to turn your personal message to me into a public comment here, I would be very grateful!
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Good morning, Matt. Thank you for your most recent posting. Great insights and metaphor about sleepwalking through life. Your recent postings reflect a crispness in thought and expression. Less is indeed more!! Love, Larry