I came back this time, to the most affluent superpower nation on earth. What does that say about me? That I am nearing the end of my path, or that I am too immature to handle third-world deprivation? Frank Sinatra’s voice is bouncing around in my head, "If I can make it here, I can make it anywhere…" And while I am not in New York City, the message is not lost on me.

If I am buffaloed by this, The Promised Land, what hope remains of achieving my goal of breaking the birth/death cycle? Abundant food, clean water, salubrious climate, air-conditioned housing, and civil liberties abound, yet I feel that I am not succeeding in this fertile environment. Am I weak, lazy, or too principled to buy into the softness, enjoy the ease?

It all scares the crap out of me, given my singular determination to defeat my ego and hone my soul to the point of worthiness necessary to avoid another incarnation. To be forever rejoined with The Source has been my desire. Losing my focus, to the point of wanting to run screaming from every aspect of western society, has fostered a concern in me, that I have failed. And having failed, am doomed to repeat this lifetime, or another version, in much less hospitable climes. Am I simply being superstitious? Perhaps by interjecting Protestantism and its inevitable guilt into my ultimate fate, I find myself wanting.

How many times have I determined this existence sorely lacking? How many times has it generated more questions than answers? Left me feeling empty? Puzzled? Confused? My lack of satisfaction with this set of circumstances has me frustrated, ad infinitum.

Why can I not make it here? Why am I not making it here? Is the frustration the crux of the lesson? Is my soul too juvenile for these parameters, or am I thwarting my own capacity for development? Am I fit, or unfit? Ready, or over my head?

What, if any, is the alternative? Counting grains of rice, all the livelong day, in some archaic mental hospital? What is the intended locus of my focus? Who screwed up - my spirit guides, or me? Was I thrust unprepared on this scene, or am I the one botching it up? My intentions are noble. My response is questionable.

So what is it for me? Promotion or demotion? Moving on, or moving back? Am I destined another thirty years in my current identity to get my spiritual house in order, or is my end quickly approaching, to facilitate the speedy beginning of my next crack at it?

I do not even know for certain what I am capable of enduring…what I may have endured in previous lifetimes. My station on the path is completely hidden from me. Have I passed most of my major tests, or do innumerable, more difficult ones lie ahead? I can only assume that which awaits me, and probably incorrectly and incomplete at best. Am I barely out of the gate, or coming down the home stretch? And would I really wish to know the answer to that particular question? In this instance, ignorance is indeed bliss.

I am a man of character, with many flaws. I am a generous soul, with selfish desires. I am a defender of the weak, with the lust of a warrior. Toss a coin. My fate rests on its narrow edge. I could see it going either way, as I find myself grossly unqualified to assess my own progress (whatever progress it was deemed that I was to be making).

From somewhere, the notion occurs that this train of thought is taking me on a one-way trip, to a dark destination—a place devoid of hope and happiness. I do not want to end up there, but my mind keeps hurtling me toward calamity. And in my desperation, I understand that my mind has become the Devil. Spinning out of control, it has convinced me that it is in a position to judge my soul, and find it deficient. My mind has steered me away from the assurance that I am part of God’s Perfect Universe, and that by association, my soul is perfect, within that creation. My insidious mind must be severely curtailed, and reason and inspiration must now have my ear. My heart and soul must captain my ship.

Then, fortuitously, The Wisdom of The Universe speaks to me through the voice of my wife, saying, "Everyone is doing the best that they can at any given moment, with what they have available."

Everyone? Really? I have heard her reassuring comments scores of times, but can it be true? Everyone? Doing the best that they can? And suddenly I realize that I want to fully believe what she is resolutely declaring, because I am included in that "everyone."

I want to come to acceptance of my efforts being my best efforts. That instead of just shuffling my feet along and stumbling through this journey on earth, that each and every day, I am putting my best foot forward. That there is no alternative, there is no failed attempt, only my best effort, time and again. I want to live in the knowledge that I am doing the best that I know to do, and I can ask no more of myself than that.

As I muse on this revelation, another gem comes to me, courtesy of my Far Eastern neighbors, and that is, "Everything is as it should be." On the surface, this six-word maxim rings of a simple admonition given to placate a child, but the full implications carry much more weight. In my case, in my world, if everything is as it should be (orderly, following an established plan, inter-connected to achieve a desired result), and if I am truly functioning at my highest capacity for good, then my feelings of inadequacy have no basis in reality. In a nutshell, I’m O.K., you’re O.K.

I also take comfort in a line from a Sufi poem, attributed to Hafiz. "The place where you are right now, God has circled on a map for you." Yes, God loves me, takes note of me, even when my mind convinces me that I am not worthy of such recognition…that my actions could somehow void God’s unconditional love. How ridiculous!

The end result of this reversal of negative thinking, provides a flood of relief! No more performance anxiety. No more second-guessing myself and my role in The Universe. And no more judging others, or judging myself by comparison to them. I can live and let live, with assurance and the peace of mind that Nature undoubtedly intended.