A Spirit of Sacrifice

About ten years ago, I began my spiritual quest in earnest.

I had reached my personal level of endurance for the "status quo" of my life, and knew that the only way I was going to survive was to dramatically change things. In fact, I was so desperate that "survival" didn't even really matter to me that much, even though I knew I would never deliberately attempt to physically hurt myself or commit suicide. But, in my misery, I prayed to God, nearly constantly, to take my life away from me — in a peaceful and painless way — because I just couldn't stand the unhappiness and emotional pain any more.

It's hard to admit that, knowing how many people who love me will ultimately see that I was that willing to leave it all behind. Our attachments to our loved ones are so strong that some people see them as impermeable and "fixed," regardless of their ultimate dysfunction. When it comes down to a matter of survival, though, breaking up a toxic relationship — or taking a risk by choosing distance from your "blood" relatives — may be the only answer. Regardless of what some people will insist, a path that takes us away from home is not necessarily un-Godly or "evil." In fact, Jesus said "leave ALL and follow me" in many different ways, and asserted that he had come to make "strife" between daughter and mother . . . not peace. The Buddha was a prince who was raised in comfort and wealth . . . completely sheltered to the realities of death and disease by his parents. He left his young wife and infant son, and the palace life he had always known, to seek spiritual truths and real hardship in the wilderness. In India, it is culturally accepted that, at some point in life, a householder will become interested in the spiritual life (especially once he or she is older, and the duties to the family have been fulfilled.) But, even for the younger people in India, it is not necessarily shameful to become a mendicant or a dervish, and to wander the world penniless and homeless looking for God.

In our Western culture, it seems so shocking and embarrassing to consider that automatically suspicion is raised. I left home, myself, shortly after my marriage broke up. My husband took custody of my young daughter, and I deliberately became homeless. My other family relationships were very toxic to me, and I had nowhere to turn that made me feel safe — so I chose a "flop house" instead. Believe it or not, a cot in a shelter, next to active drug addicts and prostitutes, made me happier than the "family home" I had been living in with my mother and other family members. This, of course, led people in my life to assume that I, too, was a drug addict or worse. In fact, the whole time I was homeless I was clean and sober, financially supporting myself legally, and finally learning about the realities of life for many, many people. This experience was immensely fulfilling. It wasn't easy, to be sure, but in the end I was profoundly stricken with a feeling of gratefulness for everything that God provides to me, on a daily basis — the good and the bad.

This was a big change for a person who, a few years before this, had trouble giving up her favorite snacks from Starbucks for a short period of fasting!! I had been told by a spiritual teacher that "sacrifice" was necessary in spiritual life . . . and I had been trying to understand what that meant for a while. In a comfortable, New England suburb, with a college education and lots of other advantages, the idea of "sacrifice" was hard for me to grasp. Does that mean that I should hold off on the next designer pocketbook purchase until it goes on markdown? Does it mean that I try and become a vegetarian and start recycling my newspapers?

Ultimately, the idea of sacrifice, to me, meant absolutely nothing about food, money, or "social causes." The sacrifice that has meant the most to me, and the one that has taken me farthest in spiritual life, was my sacrifice of pride. The humiliation I have endured for taking the "road less traveled" has been colossal. Instead of comfortably taking my place among the "soccer moms" I know, or the professionals I used to work with long ago at places like MIT, I have been following a path of extreme challenge and change. I have completely lost my reputation as a "normal" person. People in my life have not even bothered to whisper when they talk about me behind my back!! I've been accused of all sorts of untrue things, and have been rejected outright and called "crazy" many, many times. I have finally started to find it comical. I have decided that others are getting such a charge out of denigrating me that I really have to keep up the craziness so that nobody in my life starts getting bored!!

It was my daring to "speak out" that caused all this controversy. Recently, I accused my parents, very publicly, of doing a really bad job while I was growing up. Then, I started looking up "friends" who had been judging me and ignoring me for years, and told them what I really thought of them. Then, I got into a loud fight with my husband — and for the umpteenth time the "little men in the white coats" came to put me in a mental hospital. Funny thing is that I have been diagnosed with (accused of is a better description) having bi-polar disorder . . . but in reality it seems that truthfulness is a mental illness these days. In fact, the hospitals won't even keep me any more, nor will they force me to take medication, because there is no evidence that I am dangerous to myself or anybody else.

My behavior has ruined my "standing in the community," however. This bothered me, a lot, for many years while I was dealing with other aspects of my illness. I used to do the "normal" thing . . . and try to "hide it in the pantry with my cupcakes." Letting go of the pride . . . of being respected as a good mom, good daughter, good worker, good neighbor . . . etc., etc., etc., was very painful — regardless of the inadequate nature of the definitions of "good" I was embracing.

This is the nature of sacrifice in a very profound way. The men and women who join the Marines and fight for America's freedom are rarely put in the position of "humiliation" for their sacrifice. In fact, in life and in death they are usually glorified for it. But, in a spiritual battle, it is the ego that has to be fought and destroyed . . . and humiliation is a very effective tool for fighting that. Like I said, above, I am struck with a profound sense of gratefulness for everything God provides, good and bad. Ultimately, my pride is meaningless . . . there's no point in trying to protect it.