For the first time, you can hold a powerful, effective change process in your hands.
Your Turn: An Excerpt
Introduction
The modestly framed picture on the wooden bookcase in my study reminds me. It is of a handsome man adorned in black, with a seasoned face framed by thick, combed-back black hair with the slightest hint of grey at the temples; perfectly formed black brows that could be the subject of an artist’s brush with the slightest lack of symmetry that suggests a knowing expression. Even in black and white, the picture suggests a swarthy complexion reminiscent of the people of the Russian steppes. A thick, mountainous, meticulously groomed, black mustache points upward toward his eyes, dark eyes that look into my soul. No pretense, no posturing, just a simple piece of jewelry hangs around his neck—the cross of Jesus. The picture is 50 years old.
The church was dimly lit by candles sheathed in blood-red votive glass, they hung on chains that sparkled with gold, reflecting the timidly dancing flames fueled by ancient, scented oils casting a muted illumination on the gilded saints that peered judgmentally from the altar’s iconostas. The artist who painted the saints knew the secret to hold the attention of all spiritual seekers; it was the eyes, always the eyes that followed my every step, I could not hide from the eyes.
It was the Lenten season, the time in the Russian Orthodox tradition when every soul was called to confession, to report on and repent our sins. The lecterns that held the holiest of church relics—the old and new testaments, the sacred icon of the Mother Mary—and the Panikhida table and stands where parishioners lit candles to honor the dead were covered in black cloth, a sign of mourning for the One who had been brutally slain two millennia before. The deacon’s kadilo, an ornate silver censer hung from a troika of chains containing lumps of incense atop smoldering charcoal, had left the sweet smell of Frankincense in the slightly damp and cool air. It was a setting that inspired veneration. It was my turn.
Although I could only claim a dozen trips around the sun, I viewed myself as bright, precocious, with a facile intellect that could navigate the raging waters of any challenge—I could think on my feet and plunged fearlessly into any conversation. I was charming with my elders; confident that they were buying into the persona I projected. I approached the confessional.
Behind a flimsy seemingly out-of-place privacy screen stood a simple vertical stand draped in black with an overlay of a modest priestly vestment, an apron-like brocaded garment about the width of my forearm embroidered with gold thread. On it, as if placed there by the hand of God Himself, lay an unadorned bible. I dropped to one knee—I had mastered the ceremonial dramatics of the church while serving as an altar boy—and bowed my head with measured reverence. I knew this priest and was sure that my subtle theatrics and rehearsed confession would carry me unscathed through this annual ordeal. They didn’t.
Father Alexei is what we called him. His story was the stuff of novels. With no intention of following his father into the Russian Orthodox priesthood, as a teen, he was arrested along with his father during Stalin’s purge of the church; he would never see his father again. After a year of harsh imprisonment, guards came to his cell, opened the door and told him to start walking; as he strode haltingly away he awaited the shot that never came. He heard his calling that day and after crossing Europe amidst the mayhem of World War II, hiding in barns and under bridges as Nazi troops marched overhead; without possessions, without a country, he felt no attachment. He was a man whose purpose had found him, a man completely comfortable inside of himself. And on that confessional night a privileged American boy of Russian decent discovered at the age of twelve that there was at least one man who functioned from what I now understand to be an enlightened state of consciousness. What he said penetrated my heart, changed my life forever.
Most of us have had people appear in our lives who have made a profound impact; some have encountered only a few, others have been granted the great fortune of receiving help from many. Just as I did not seek or expect the encounter with Father Alexei 50 years ago, many of the helpers seek us out, not the other way around. Each encounter serves as a reminder that we occasionally need help to find our way along this journey we call life.
The problem with waiting for help is that it isn’t always available when we believe we need it. And, if offered by people already in our lives—family, friends, teachers, employers, colleagues—the help might be tinged with a touch of self-interest; if we seek help from someone outside—helping professionals, self-help promoters, media personalities—it might prove to be superficial. So what should you do when you sense that you are off-track and help has yet to appear? The answer is simple, you should help yourself. My father’s favorite line was “God helps those who help themselves.” To help yourself you need a tool powerful enough to enable you to change the course of your life without having someone telling you what to do. You are holding such a tool in your hands.
We can all be overshadowed by everyday circumstances. Sooner or later we reach a point when we ask, “What am I doing? Where am I going? Am I happy? What should I do with the rest of my life?” These questions appear in our awareness as a warning signal that we are not living in accord with our own unique set of natural laws. Some people heed the signal and seek to adjust course, others decide it isn’t a good time—for the procrastinators the questions either return in times of crisis and are ultimately addressed with urgency and even despair or remain unresolved in this lifetime. The more we put them off, the more off-course we get, the more stressful our lives become and the more we suffer.
The fact that you have picked up this book indicates that these questions have occurred to you and you are at least considering action. So use this book as an empowering tool to help yourself even while awaiting help to appear. Use it proactively to avoid circumstances that cause you discomfort, suffering and pain; then when help does appear it can focus on your evolution rather than cleaning up the consequences of your mistakes.
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