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With the new millennium upon us, I found myself thinking about what things best illustrate where we're at, consciousness-wise. After all, we're ushering in the century that will see the accomplishment of this shift in consciousness that we're all creating here. What evidence is there right now that it's actually happening?
I looked to the media. The growing number of instances of the word channeling appearing casually in sentences (as in, "... Bob Hoskins, channeling something of the sheet music salesman he played two decades ago..." and "What are you... channeling Jesse Helms?") wasn't it.
It wasn't any of the millions of stories about the Internet's explosive growth, or the reference to it being "the biggest experiment in anarchy," either. Besides, this references misses the mark because, if anything, the Internet is the biggest experiment in autonomy and self governance, not non-governance.
And it wasn't even the recent article entitled, "Time, Space Obsolete in New View of Universe", which described how an increasing number of scientists are embracing the "mysterious" idea of string theory; how it rejects some familiar notions and includes the existence of eleven dimensions. I admit this was close, but not the big enchilada, not even eleven of them.
It was Dilbert. The popular Scott Adams cartoon about the cubicle-dwelling anti-hero computer nerd summed it all up for me. In it, a young Dilbert approaches his mom and asks her, "Mom, can I go skateboarding at the construction site?"
"No," says mom.
"Why not? Everyone else does it."
"If everyone jumped off a cliff, would you do that?"
"Well, that would depend on many factors, including height, training, and equipment. But if 100% of the people who jumped off cliffs said they enjoyed it, as in my skateboard example, then I would conclude that it was safe. A better question might have been, 'If everyone wore clothes, would you do that?" Dilbert replies, and then, alone in the last panel, thinks, "Her credibility gets worse every day."
Conformity to moral code is such a powerful underlying assumption in everyday life that it is often invisible. Many of the people celebrating the new millennium, like me, were raised in extreme, morally-driven, conformist circumstances (who remembers the blasé nature of the "duck and cover" atom bomb drills in school?) and is the generation seeing perhaps most of the changes brought about this shift. There are many signs of tremendous change for the planet as a whole. But what this means to us as individuals is perhaps the most compelling quality of our shift experience. What does it mean for us?
As we come more and more to terms with our multidimensional nature and connection to each other — and to everything — we begin to question our own personal versions of why we do things and why we don't. We're used to doing things because everyone else does. Sure, there's lots of reasons for wearing clothes — for warmth, fashion, they're handy for attaching brooches, scout badges and military medals — but when did each of us ever seriously consider whether or not we really wanted to without laughing or thinking that it was positively immoral to even think it? Or have found other reasons, like embarrassment about the shapes of our bodies, that stop our thought processes cold? Although this example is extreme, it not outside the realm of possibilities for the kinds of changes we may consider... changes that may have to do with what we call moral behavior.
The fabric of morality has never looked more frayed. We've seen moral imperatives fail time and time again, for even if we were able to separate the greys of moral judgment into blacks and whites, there has never been a point where we've all agreed on one moral code in every instance. After all, we're individuals with unique perspectives and ways of creating our realities.
But that's easier said than done. Who doesn't want a peaceful, beautiful world? I may choose to recycle because I believe it contributes to the health of the planet, but I have to remind myself that it "matters not" when I see someone else throwing trash out of their car window, because there is no cause and effect, and invited them into my reality for the purpose of my own noticing, and that I'm only responsible for myself. What I need to be careful of is the very common habit of inflicting my own brand of morality on others. After all, isn't the utopian ideal completely subjective, too?
Accepting the uniqueness of ourselves and others — with all of our supposed imperfections — is the facilitator for the shift and runs counter to the idea of imposing moral standards on each other. And somehow, somehow, by doing this, I release myself from the requirements I've put on myself in my quest to find society's idea of how I should be. Because at the heart of the matter, I have to trust that All That Is knows what It's doing if for no other reason than it beats the hell out of the alternative. I trust that the autonomy it brings results in a harmonious world, even if it's just because we believe it is.
"If it's not fun, just don't do it" is beginning to be the center of my personal philosophy. This single expression has helped me make all kinds of decisions, from unsubscribing to PETA (too many upsetting images of abused animals) to avoiding the six o'clock news (too many upsetting images of abused people) to quitting jobs (too many upsetting images of an abused me). Call me irresponsible if you want; if it bothers you, you may want to pay attention. Anti-heroes and autonomy are the order of the day. It's time for jumping off cliffs of our own creation.
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