This morning while walking I realized that there are dueling opinions about the state of the world (mine and the greater one) that play out in my head. There’s the complainer and the praiser—the first is dissatisfied with my body, my thoughts, my environments, accomplishments, attitudes, my neighbors, friends, the president, air, water and noise pollution, and on and on and on. This one, the kvetcher, seems to think it’s important to be vigilant about what’s not perfect, dilapidated, sliding, tainted and just NOT RIGHT. There’s some kind of belief that enumerating these less-than-perfect attributes is important—that be doing so one (well, I) will be in a better position to improve them. If I don’t remind myself 20-30 times a day that my back would feel better, I’d drop a dress size and extend my life a few months if I lost twenty pounds, well then, I’m not doing my job, which is, of course, to improve, to attain what I know is possible and best for myself. Otherwise, gulp, I’ve failed, I’m a loser and I’ll be back next time around weighing 350 pounds and have to deal with it all over again, only worse.

At our house here in L.A. we have a beautiful oval-shaped swimming pool in the back and a hot tub that we bought when we moved here. This morning, after walking the dogs and watering the plants I was feeling hot and sweaty so I jumped in the pool (which was pretty cold, since we don’t heat it) and then in the hot tub for a while, then back in the pool. Afterwards, I sat outside, relaxed, enjoying the sun. I realized it had been a couple of weeks since I had slowed down long enough to really see the world around me—the way the light plays off the water, the brilliant orange flower draping over the wall, the shimmer of the fichus leaves against the sky. Oh, I had noticed, but I hadn’t seen, hadn’t taken them in. My head had been too full of stuff that needs to get done, stuff I need to figure out, stuff I believe or don’t believe, blah, blah, blah. You know what I mean.

So, sitting there I felt the presence of gratitude, of the praiser, inside—in awe of the wonder of existence. I started thinking about the difference between the perception of how screwed up everything is and the perception that everything is just as it is supposed to be. Listening to the traffic out on the street and thinking of the people in the cars, in the malls, at work, at home, all across the country and the globe—thinking how few of them, how very few of them, ever stop, ever give over to the fragility of their lives, the precious moments that slip by, slip by, and are gone. It made me wonder what would happen if, instead of the bravado and posturing of politicians (like what we witnessed at the U.N. this week), these leaders, these men and women went together on a retreat to meditate, chant, write, speak in a scared circle, tell their stories, if they got real, and felt each other and the pain inside each other’s hearts. I wonder what would happen if each of us vowed to go past the fear and anger that masks our vulnerability and decided it was okay to weep at the sight of beauty, to sing out the truth, to affirm every moment of every day that what is here, what is now, will not always be, that we are here only temporarily and what we do while we are here is the legacy we leave those who come after us—our children and their children.

I’m not sure if the complainer will ever completely fade out of my head. She’s pretty tenacious. I’m thinking though, if I make the effort to slow down and catch up with myself, take in what “is” and see it as so very right and so very perfect—I might just get the upper hand. I’m not naive enough to think that I’ll see President Bush and Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez sit side by side in a seminar to learn “nonviolent communication” and heal their differences. It does occur to me though, that the most important work being done on this planet today is by those who attend those conferences, who do go to meditation and poetry and yoga retreats. As often as it has been quoted, what MhaAtma Ghandi said will always ring true, “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” It’s the only thing we really have control over, our hearts, our minds, the way we see each other as we walk down the street, the way we see ourselves when we look in the mirror. Why not live in kindness, in hope, in gratitude? Why not?