Siddhearta's Essence of 2020.

I am not going to lie, 2020 was a challenging year. In Buddhist practice we often find this sentiment:

Transform obstacles into the path of awakening. 

Well, 2020 decided to just throw everything at us at once. How do we stay present, generous, receptive and kind amidst a global pandemic, natural disasters, rampant job loss, economic fallout, social unrest, homeschooling, and oh, an election year? Chances are you don't. And that's okay, that's why we call it a practice. You practice being present, practice being kind, practice being generous, practice being receptive. You practice and you fail, a lot. 

This year was particularly challenging for me. I lost my father-in-law and two close friends to non-COVID related deaths. One of my regular practices is to engage in the traditional Buddhist 49 days of practice after someone dies, as a way to show up for them as they transition through the death process into their next life. It allows for a natural way to grieve, while also honoring the connection that you have and still have after someone has passed from this life. At one point in August after I had been doing the practice daily since mid-May, I began to wonder if I would ever stop doing the practice. My father-in-law and two close friends died in successive months, and this was accompanied by the many other people I knew through work or through acquaintances that died due to COVID-19. My 49 day practice ended up coming to a close at the end of August, and yet how many have we lost since then...

2020 forced all of us to reconsider how we show up in the world. We were forced to reshape our lives, change the way we work, learn, interact. Things that we used to do are no longer options, and things we never imagined doing have become normal (wearing a mask at work all day). In one way, we have all come to appreciate what matters most in our lives, and we have all slowed down a bit to take advantage of those things. 

Despite all of the challenges of this year, there were still opportunities that came to light. Our Sangha has transformed into a thriving online community, though we no doubt look forward to the chance to reconnect again for retreats in person. We also started the Dharma Conversations Podcast this year and have published over a dozen episodes so far. I also finished up editing a book for my teacher, Younge Khachab Rinpoche, expected to be released this spring. Stay tuned for more details. 

As I look back at this past year, I realize how fortunate me and my family have been and I am grateful that I have such a supportive network of family and friends. It is hard to imagine having to navigate the uncertainty of this year without those connections. Much was lost this year and it is easier to appreciate just how precious and fragile this life really is. I am also tired and weary and would like a break, and I am sure you would too. Hang in there, find some time for yourself, recognize your own needs amidst all of the chaos. Give yourself the needed break of putting aside all the media, the worrisome thoughts and stories. Don't punish yourself with unnecessary expectations. It is enough to be present amidst uncertainty,  without a clear handle of how things are going to work out or when this is all going to be over. 

Here are some of my better posts from this year:

For your practice: 

Spacious Awareness
A metaphor for timeless awareness.
The Royal Seat of Akanishtha.
The journey to the center of it all. 
Carry on.
Exploring mind and its nature. 
Two pespectives on mind. 
Fulfillment, found. 

Pandemic contemplations:

In search of the normal day.
Last chance to share thanks. 
Not doing is hard work. 

Conscious Leadership and institutional racism

"I am not a leader."
I am a contribution. 
#BlackLivesMatter. *Conditional terms apply
Conscious citizens of the world
Model of conscious leadership
Five elements of conscious leadership

Last chance to share thanks.

Working in a community pharmacy, you get used to the presence of death in the community you serve. You see obituaries of elderly persons you have been coming to your pharmacy for years. You serve cancer patients for months or years and then one day they just stop coming in. Weeks or months later you might hear from a family member or neighbor that they have passed away. We get voicemails in the middle of the night, letting us know that someone has passed away. Hospice calls. Doctors call to share the news. Young husbands and wives stop by to share the news that their spouse has died unexpectedly. You hear parents sharing stories of their kids dying due to accidents or health complications. Death is ever-present and there is no right time or right circumstance. Death is certain, but the time of death is uncertain.

This weekend, one of our long time elderly patients called to thank us for our years of service. He had been diagnosed with the coronavirus and the prognosis was not good. He was quarantined in isolation and he wanted to pass along his thanks while he still had the chance.

We are facing what could be one of the largest pandemics in modern history. Many will die, and they will die in isolation, separated from their family and friends at the moment of death.

We all must set out on the journey of death and dying alone. Where we are setting off to none can follow. Being prepared for that journey is important. Coming to terms with death is never easy, but the more open we can be to the presence of death in our lives, the easier it is to be grateful and share thanks while we still have the chance.

Take some time to reach out to your elderly friends and relatives. Call your neighbor, see how they are doing. We are all facing some challenging weeks and months ahead, but the elderly are especially worried and at significant risk.

You never know when it is your last chance to give thanks.

Learning to navigate life and death.

Our days seem to be ruled by disorder and chaos. Our culture is one in which we are constantly busy in the search of becoming and being something other, continuously moving away from the present and away from ourselves in search of something better.

The world around us seems to be coming apart, and yet there is a marked sense of creation and emergent potential. All around us we see the effects of change, based on an evolution of values, tastes and desires.

Navigating this chaos and disorder can be overwhelming. Every time we think we have made progress or found a firm footing, the ground underneath us changes and moves. At one time the world changed slowly, generation after generation living much the same. Now things seem to change by the days and weeks with no 'catching up' in sight. In an effort to be more present in our lives, we struggle against ourselves and find time slipping away. No matter how much we fight against the tides of change, there is nothing to hold onto and all we are left with is fear and uncertainty about the future, our future, the future of the world and the future of humanity. In the face of change and disorder, what will we, it, and I become?

In Tibetan, we find this word bardo (Tib. བར་དོ་), which is often translated as intermediate state. Usually we talk about the bardo as the transition state between this life and the next, the liminal space of the afterlife. The bardo is an in-between state, a threshold between one state and the next. In a sense, we can understand the bardo as a doorway, in which we cross over from one life into the next. We let go of the old world, the one that we knew, and step into the new and unseen.

As a threshold, the bardo represents a liminal state in which subliminal conditioning creates our experience. This in-between state of the afterlife is simply the mind experiencing itself, or the mind experiencing its appearances. Much like a dream, we have little control over what is appearing to the mind in the bardo. Taking these appearances as our reality, we get caught up in the throes of mind and end up in a powerless and fearful state. Powerless because we have no control.

Having not trained in understanding how the mind works and how the contents of our experience are not in fact the 'self', we have no choice but to suffer the bardo. In this case, we will desparately be looking for a way out, not being particularly intentional about the conditions or motivations for our next life or the next form our life takes.

The bardo is commonly understood this way in Tibetan Buddhism, but there are actually six bardos (or liminal spaces) that we can experience: 1) the liminal space of this life (from birth to death), 2) the liminal space of dreams, 3) the liminal space of meditative absorption, 4) the liminal space of dying (from last breath to dawning of luminosity), 5) the liminal space of the luminous true nature of reality, 6) the liminal space of becoming (taking on new life form).

The essence of the bardo is this liminal, in-between state; between birth and death, waking and sleeping, inhaling and exhaling, destruction and creation, becoming and being. If you take a close look at time, you will find time itself is liminal space, between one moment and then next. As we learn to spend time in this liminal state, the bardo of the ever-present reality, we have an opportunity to break free from the machinations of mind and our experience. We have an opportunity to encounter timelessness, the eternal now of the continuously unfolding present.

In this liminal state of lucid, open presence, you experience the body, but know you are not the body. If your body changes somehow, 'you' don't change with it. There is some aspect of 'you' that is not your body. You experience sensations, but know an aspect of awareness that is not those sensations. Sensations are an object of your awareness. You might notice your perception of things, but know you are not your perception. You encounter thoughts and ideas, but know you are not your thoughts and ideas. You encounter the five senses, but know you are not those experiences of the five senses.

As lucid, open presence, you witness the contents of your experience, but know 'you' are not the contents of your experience. Amidst a sea of change, you are discovering the ground of being. But the real question is, who is this 'you'? If you look for it, where can you find it? Any chance to grab hold of this elusive 'self' results in not finding anything to hold onto. The mind as clear awareness is like water running through your fingers, there is an experience of mind but nothing to hold onto.

When we have certainty that there is nothing to find, nothing to hold onto, nothing to call 'our own', then we simply rest with that ever-present clear awareness. This is the ground from which we can reorient ourselves and choose our way forward. No longer overwhelmed by the subliminal contents appearing in your experience, you are able to respond to the ever unfolding reality rather than react out of habits and conditioning. This ever-present awareness is a vehicle for navigating the bardo of this life, the bardo of death, and the bardo of this moment. It is the basis for participating in the creation of the world, of dancing in the eternal now between the world falling apart around us and the one emerging through our individual and collective actions.

There is no awakening within the bounds of time. We awaken to eternally present clear awareness in the luminous liminal space of the true nature of reality. Furthermore, there is no one who is awakened. There is only lucid, open presence on the threshold of being, in which there is a perpetual letting go and stepping into.

This is how to navigate life and death.

Lifetimes after lifetime.

Whether you realize it or not, right now you are cycling through endless cycles of birth, death and rebirth.

A door opens. A chance encounter. A new dawn.

The play of life unfolds in moments. Constantly searching for the next one perpetuates the cycle of becoming. We all have the habit of trying to make something of ourselves, not seeing what we already are.

The wasteland.

Charnel grounds are a recurring theme and symbol that appear in many of the stories of meditation masters and great teachers of the past. It is said that great masters like Garab Dorje, Shri Singha and Padmasambhava all spent many years in charnel grounds after the nature of their own mind was revealed to them.

The charnel ground represents the wasteland that is the final result of this human life. The presence of death and loss cannot be overlooked or hidden. No matter how beautiful or meaningful the work that we have done in this life, no matter how much we have cherished our loved ones, all of us must go through this devastation and loss. The charnel ground also directly challenges this notion of the ego, the importance that we place on who we are and what we do.

The best solution to being in the charnel ground seems to be to get out of it. We want to get away and hide the whole thing. If we don't look at it and don't get too close, maybe it's not going to be there to torment us. Yet the actual solution comes from living fully in the charnel ground and using the resourcefulness of our own practice to dance with whatever is coming up in our experience.

You can be sure that when you feel like everything is falling apart and your world is turning into a charnel ground, you are being called to a deeper presence in the world.

Recognize that moment. Rediscover the ground of your renewal and resilience. That is the essential if you are to learn how to find complete resolution while living in the charnel ground. When you learn to skillfully work with the intense appearances of the charnel ground, you will find that it has become a pure land in which you can manifest your activity and accomplish your aims. 

Becoming.

Becoming is one of the twelve links of dependent origination.  It immediately follows craving and fixation and is part of the larger cycle leading to birth, aging, sickness and death.

The source of becoming lies in suffering, pain and dissatisfaction. Our unresolved condition leads to the experience of a deep satisfaction and the desire to escape that pain and sorrow. Craving and desire gradually build and grow in our mind until we eventually become fixated and attached.

Atttachment can take many forms. We can be attached to physical forms, ideas, perceptions, and routines. We can be fixated on food, habits, mental states or feelings. Anything that we perceive to be a solution to the suffering we are trying to escape.

That attachment gives rise to becoming. Becoming forges new tendencies, new actions (karma!). It becomes the patterning that eventually gives rise to a new life.

We continually cycle through these experiences. Birth isn't just our birth into this life. We are always going through the cycles of birth and death. We enter into new relationships, new jobs, new endeavors. We manifest new aspirations, accomplish new goals.

Birth is the result of becoming. We live hundreds of lifetimes in this one life.

Birth always leads to aging, sickness and death. We eventually grow tired of the way things are. We start to notice the problems and inadequacy of situations. Things start falling apart. The truth of suffering once again becomes apparent in our lives.

The habit that we have is to then start the process of craving and desire all over again. Seeking out a new rebirth. Seeking out a better life.

In our confusion, we cycle again and again.

I hope.

I hope to be there when my daughter grows old.

I hope to see her fall in love, to be there when her heart is broken and then made whole again.

I hope to see her succeed, to build things, to make her impact on the world.

I hope to be there when things are falling apart, when times are tough and chances seem slim.

I hope to see her being a goof ball. To see her laugh and try new things.

I hope to see her figuring things out, diving into problems and charting a new course.

I hope to see her sitting by the water, nothing more to do.

I hope to see her listen deeply, to witness her acts of kindness and her generosity with others.

We never know the hour or circumstances of our death. This life is like a child's shoelace, quick to come undone.

I hope I am blessed with the privilege of growing old, to be able to be present in the lives of my loved ones.

We can never be sure of what the future holds for us. We can only practice being present now and enjoying this brief moment that we have together. 

Your corpse will be beautiful.

You have lived well. 

You've eaten healthy foods.  Enjoyed a disciplined diet.  You have exercised and maintained a fit physique.  Your skin is vibrant, your teeth a brilliant white.  Your hair is always well groomed and trimmed.  Your style, well, it's you.

You can be sure about one thing-

Your corpse will be beautiful.  

Time to heal.

We are sick.  Divided. 

This infection runs deep.  Much deeper than we expected, certainly more than we would like to acknowledge.

It doesn't look good.  We don't feel good.  Our future is uncertain. 

We sit, alone in the darkness, wondering how this could happen.  To us. 

Alone, grasping for any words than may grant a moment of solace. 

Alone.  In the darkness. 

People rarely talk about their experience conversing with death.  They don't like to acknowledge the possibility themselves, so it is often too awkward to talk about it with others.  Yet, one who is conversant with death knows one thing to be true.

Make being alone and in the darkness your friend. 

This space, this 3am empty world, with its shadows and resonant hum is often your only home.  It may often manifest as torment in all its variety, but it is yours and you make of it what you will.

Make friends with it.  Make friends with your own mind. 

It is in this space that you will discover what you need to continue to push forward.  It is here, that you discover how to be healthy when you know a cure is not possible.

We are sick, but we are not going to turn our lives over to this sickness.  Our future is uncertain, but for now, we sit in darkness.    

I know this life will come to pass.

Morning dew beneath your toes.
Light rays of sunshine, illuminating worlds.
Gentle breeze, rustling leaves.
Drip by drip,
Deep pools of samadhi.
A slow meandering walk, going nowhere,
holding hands,
big step, another step.
Way to go.
A smile, a glance, a friendly wave.
Doors open.
Off to work, working,
hurried, intense, what am I forgetting?
Panting dog, a warm cuddle.
Engine roars, silence.
Excitement, laughs,
tending, caring, picking up the pieces.
Holding, waiting,
there you go.
Rising moon.
Moments lasting eons,
hours gone in a flash.
Coming, going,
unceasing.
Inhale.  Exhale.

I know this life will come to pass.

Healing.

It is important to know that healing doesn't mean to cure.

We can have wounds, even open wounds, and be healed. 

Someday, this might be important to know. 

A garland of lives.

The continuum of lives is neither one nor many.
Manifold expressions arise in all their diversity
from the single sphere of original purity.

Grateful for the opportunity.

I was just about to head out and drive to work today when my dog needed to go to the bathroom.  I let her out and she was back in a minute. 

So I left.

As I was driving to work, about to cross the Ballard bridge, I saw a terrible accident up ahead.  Several cars were involved in the accident and it did not look good.  A cop car was at the scene and there was an ambulance racing up from behind in the distance. 

I couldn't help but think, what if I had left a minute sooner?

Our life is so precious.  We can never be sure of the time and circumstances of our death.  We do our best to control all the variables, but when death arrives we have no choice.

Take a moment to express gratitude today.

Be thankful that you were able to share this day, how fortunate we are to have this opportunity, and how important it is that we use every day as if it is our last. 

Bardo.

བར་དོ་
Tibetan: bardo
English: intermediate state, in-between, gap

The bardo is a commonly used term to refer to the gap between lives, that in-between state where one life has ended and the other has yet to begin. 

The bardo is often a terrifying state. 

We don't feel comfortable there.  We are propelled by all of our past actions and intentions, but we have lost our previous form.  We have yet to take a new form, so we feel as though we have lost our ground. 

Our mind grasps after illusory appearances, hoping to find something that sticks, something that we can become.  We yearn for form. 

We yearn for what is next.

Fundamentally, this is the mind grasping at experience.  Fixating on identity, we suffer in the bardo. 

This experience is similar to one's practice in meditation.  In meditation we experience all of our past thoughts, actions and feelings.  We experience fixation on our body, its sensations and pain.  The practice is to learn to let go.  To let them be as they are. 

As thoughts and emotions arise, we recognize them as the play of the mind and learn to relax.  As appearances entice us, we learn to let them fall away.  As hope and doubt stir, we rest in ease and contentment. 

This helps us maintain freedom in the bardo.  We can abide there, timelessly, content and at peace. 

And at some point we will see a form unfold in which we can make an impact, be generous, benefit others and fulfill our intention. 

At that moment we enter the bardo of becoming and we take on a new life. 

At that moment we arise from our meditation. 

Own it.

What are you?

Angry.
Tired.
Scared.
Stuck.
In pain.
Disappointed.
Suffering.
Unfulfilled.
Happy.
Content.
Anxious.
Sad.
Uncertain.
Sick.
Dying.

Good.  Own it.

Now you know where to start your practice.

Life and death.

When a soldier trains, he understands that it is a matter of life and death.  He knows that his hard work and practice may be the very thing that keeps him alive, allows him to take his stand and fight the battle.  The soldier may not know if the battle is tomorrow or never coming, he trains the same. 

We don't have that same sense of urgency.  Our battles don't seem to hang on the precipice of life and death.

But how many lifetimes have we let pass?  How many moments do we let slip away?  How many days, weeks, months and years?

Train.

Train with the intensity, precision and focus of a well-trained soldier. 

Five Elements Yoga.

The ancient wisdom traditions are all connected to the concept of working with the elements.  Man and nature are intimately intertwined and their deep insight into that nature evokes a strong connection with the world around them.  The five elements are earth, water, fire, wind and space.  This may seem like an archaic and primitive understanding of the universe, but let's look at the manifestation of these five elements.

External world
We are all familiar with the qualities of the elements in the phenomenal world.  Earth is solid, water is fluid and cohesive, fire is radiant and hot, wind/air is constantly moving even when not apparent, and space is the container in which all of this plays itself out.  Each of these can be further examined in terms of their characteristics and qualities as far as the mind can elaborate.  

Physical Matter
Solid, liquid, heat and gas.  We are all familiar with the physical properties of matter from elementary school.  Earth is solid, water is liquid, fire is heat and wind is gas.  Of course don't forget space which accommodates all of these states.  The interesting thing here is that we start to see that all of these five elements are present in one element- water.  Ice has more earth properties, water is water and water vapor is the wind element.  All of these states manifest based on the amount of heat or fire in the system, which itself is contained by space.  So if this is true for water, what about iron? 

Atomic Particles
Let's look at an atom.  Earth is the nucleus, water is the chemical bonds that creates a sense of cohesion, fire is the heat or energy of the system and wind is the constant movement of the atom.   Space pervades the entire particle.  You are probably better at quantum physics than I am, so please explore deeper. 

Our own bodies
Our own bodies are composed of physical matter, earth.  Of course we are 70% water, blaze with the heat of the fire element at 98.6' F, are 100% energy (wind) and 99% space (may need to check my math).  Much of Ayurveda and traditional Chinese medicine is based on the balance of the five elements and how imbalances effect the rest of the system.  Interesting stuff if you like to read. 

Personal experience
We all have experience feeling grounded, a predominance of the earth element.  With the water element we feel connected, experience a deep sense of peace and calm.  Fire is creative, an inner radiance and intuition.  Wind is thoughts and concepts.  Space is all-pervasive.  Too much earth and we feel heavy and tired.  Too much water and we are emotional wrecks.  Too much fire and we get angry and hot tempered.  Too much wind and we are agitated and restless.  Too much space and we are, well, spaced out.  

Meditation
All five elements are naturally present in our own awareness.  With the earth element we discover a natural meditative stability.  The water element is a calm and peaceful mind.  The fire element is an inner radiance and clarity.  The wind element is movement even within stillness.  The space element is the expanse of awareness without center or limit.  

Dissolution
When the elements dissolve, either in our meditation or at the time of death, we can recognize their dissolution which serves as markers on the path.  Earth dissolves into water and appearances have a mirage-like quality.  Water dissolves into fire and we experience wafts of smoke-like images.  Fire dissolves into wind and we experience firefly-like appearances.  Wind dissolves into space and we experience the clear light nature of mind, an innate calm and utterly lucid awareness like the deep blue sky just before sunrise.  Rest in that state.  

Death
We should become familiar with the dissolution of the physical elements at the time of death, both concerning our own death and also supporting our loved ones as they set out on the journey.  The dissolution of the earth element is marked by losing your strength and outer movements.  The dissolution of water is when the saliva and urine is no longer produced, the body becomes dry and water is no longer accepted or needed.  The dissolution of fire is when the heat of the body recedes to the heart center, the body slowly continuing its process of shutting down.  The dissolution of wind is the gradual slowing of the inhale and exhale, leading up to the final breath as a long exhale.  It is important not to disturb the body at this time, because the person is starting to experience the inner dissolution of the elements leading up to and culminating in the clear light nature of mind.  Their ability to recognize and abide in that nature of mind determines their next rebirth, if they become swept away in appearances or remorse the winds of karma will start to stir and helplessly propel you along on your journey.  This is why it is important to practice and familiarize yourself with these five elements in this life, when you can still act of your own volition.

The practice of the five elements is a very simple and pragmatic way of understanding our world and our own experience.  It orients you with a bigger picture and makes the complex approachable.  Orienting yourself in this way, you can continue to investigate and elaborate on your understanding to the extent that the mind can reach, a true psychonaut. 

As long as the mind exists, their is no limit to the extent of space.   

A Meditation for the Dying.

Death can be a very difficult time, both for the dying and the grieving.  There can be feelings of helplessness, fear, uncertainty and great sadness and longing.  The Tibetan tradition has a very simple practice to help both the dying and those who are acting as their support.

Begin the meditation by lighting a candle, some incense and recalling the person in your mind's eye.  You may want to use a picture, but better is to simply feel their presence and the presence that they have had in your life. 

With each exhale,
send out your love to them,
radiating out joy and happiness.
With each inhale,
take upon yourself their fear and sadness,
wholeheartedly relieving and supporting them.
Exhale,
uplifting their minds and hearts,
giving them confidence and clarity on the path ahead.
Inhale,
relieving their doubt and uncertainty,
their pain and sorrow.
Exhale.  Give.
Inhale.  Take.
Exhale.
Inhale.

At the conclusion of the practice, make additional prayers or recite mantras and dedicate your practice.

Generally this type of practice is done for seven to forty-nine days after death to ensure and support the transition to the next life, whatever that may be.  It doesn't need to be elaborate, it can be as simple as sitting in a park, calling them to mind and sending them your love.

Exhale.

I'm busy.

That seems to be the status update of our day. 

Busy- finishing up a project at work, working overtime.
Busy- with the kids, with the family, with friends.
Busy- with errands, events, and emotional interactions.
Busy- searching, shopping and seeking solace. 

Strange isn't it, how much of your day are you 'busy' trying to create something enjoyable?  Or fun?

Our effort to stay busy is a pretty new cultural invention.  Our grandfathers used to work long hours and did harder work, but did they really describe their weekend and their life as busy?

'Busy' might be the new comfortable, even though we don't admit that we like being busy, more and more often we don't like when we are not busy.  When we are not busy, we feel uncomfortable, like we are wasting our time or that our life doesn't have value.  So we stay busy, because it makes us feel important.  It makes us feel like we are doing something, maybe even accomplishing something. 

But in our efforts to stay busy, we miss a lot of opportunity.  We miss taking the chance on new interactions, we miss doing something important, we miss making a difference in someone's life. We might like the feeling of being busy, but don't make the mistake of being busy when you could be doing something valuable.  

The only way out of this hot mess we call 'busy' is to contemplate our own impermanence.   When we realize that our life is short and death is quickly approaching, you automatically start to do what is important because you know you don't have any time to waste.

New status update to how was your weekend: It was a gift.  My life is quickly passing before my eyes and I chose to do what was the most important, I shared it. 

I shared it in my work, even though they were long days.
I shared it with my family, friends and loved ones.
I shared it on my way to do errands, at events and with those I interacted with.
I shared with myself, in a moment of solace and peaceful enjoyment. 

It was a gift, and I hope yours was a gift too. 

Fear and the Ladder.

Fear is a pretty primal instinct.  We all have it.  It is almost always there in its various shades of darkness.  We fear our loss of friends, loved ones, status or wealth.  We fear loss of face.  We definitely fear our own death.

Our natural instinct is to try to insulate ourselves from fear.  To build up our comfort zone and a nice cushion.  That is our conquest, whether it is the fear of our present discomfort and discontentment or the fear of death itself.  In vain that conquest often takes the form of an attempt to conquer nature and the outer world.  

That is where the ladder comes in (and the habit of selfishness). 

We think if we climb higher we can actually insulate ourselves from fear.  If we can work our way up, get promoted, find a better job, make more money or achieve a certain status, then we won't be so vulnerable to fear and states of loss.  We won't be so vulnerable to death. 

It is our core belief that attaining higher states of existence will free us.

That is a pretty powerful implication.  Think about that.  Think about it in the context of your own life, our culture.  Is it true?  Can we climb our way out? 

Where is the true fire escape?