F@#$%g Worth It

Many years ago I began to change course, steering my ship toward spiritual books, yoga, meditation, and anything else that offered light at the end of the dark tunnel of confusion that was my life. Nothing was terribly wrong. Quite the opposite: I was an average, decent, good young man, I think. My life just lacked meaning. I was a salad with no dressing, a phone with poor reception. My personal relationships were difficult on all fronts, and I simply was not in a good place. Basically, life sucked.

I began to read, to explore, to do yoga, to meditate, and little by little, it became easier to handle my self-created “dramas.”

It’s been about thirteen years since then, and while I am more comfortable in my older, semi-permeable skin and I’m in a better and healthier place overall, I never feel like I have mastered any of the spiritual lessons that I have been working on. I never feel 100 percent satisfied with my learning curve or with myself. I am that dissatisfied customer in the store of my own life, bitching and making a scene at the cash register.


I always try to be compassionate, but at times I catch myself looking the other way when someone is begging for food or money.

I always try to give my seat to the elderly, but I easily pass judgment on other people in the subway car.

I always tell myself that I should be volunteering at a homeless shelter or donating to a worthy cause, but my life gets in the way and I simply forget.


I always try to be open and to give my full attention to anyone who needs it, but sometimes it is hard to stop the internal dialogue and just listen.

I always try to see everyone as a reflection of the greater good, but I still struggle with a blacklist of people whom it is difficult for me to forgive.

I always try to be conscious of the emotions that pass over my heart, but at times I am an ogre that I don’t even recognize in the mirror.

I still shut down occasionally and feel small, insignificant, and overwhelmed.

I often feel that I am running out of time and won’t be able to complete my learning program. I catch myself manipulating life, over and over. I keep trying to train this puppy to go on the wee-wee pads and not anywhere else. Sometimes I feel like maybe I am trying too hard.

I’m not really sure that I will ever “master” all the spiritual lessons I’ve been working on. I will probably keep working on them until the day I die (my final savasana). I don’t think I’ll ever have a feeling of intense satisfaction after practicing any of the teachings. Perhaps it is in the intense feeling of discomfort that the practice blesses you with its gift.

I think one of the reasons that I won’t fully master my lessons is because there will always be room for improvement, for growth. Because in those moments when I look in the mirror and see my shortcomings, see my un-Photoshopped image, I understand that each of us has a big load of BS on our shoulders. Once we realize that, we can better relate to one another.

It doesn’t matter if I always feel that I could have done better; what matters is that I am still trusting and trying. Even if I don’t agree with the timing or effectiveness of my life’s lessons about compassion, forgiveness, and gratitude, at least I know that I’m working on them. I’m not the sole captain of this ship—just one hand on deck.

And if my learning has not kept up with the pace of New York City and that makes me sweeter, more sensitive, more compassionate and understanding toward my fellow human beings who go through exactly the same internal hells as I do, then so be it. My life and its lessons, as a real New Yorker would say, have been f@#$%g worth it.