From
Struggle to Passion: An Autobiography (2004)
by Patrick J. Harbula
I stumbled along Hollywood Boulevard
on a chilly November morning in 1977, drearily gazing down
at the entertainment icons I’d seen a thousand times.
My faded, dirty blue jeans and untrimmed beard fit right in
with the character of the once sparkling but now seedy streets.
My trance-like focus that gazed through my scruffy hair and
just ahead of my footsteps, blurred out the stark reality
of the rest of the world. I recognized every name and where
each star resided on the walk, even celebrities unknown to
me before I had seen their names etched in immortalized glory.
Their familiarity warmed me as though they were members of
my distant family. I was the black sheep of this illustrious
clan, however, the outcast, the one who didn’t make
it and perhaps never would.
My
feet stopped suddenly as I instinctively reached down to pick
up a cigarette butt. This was a good one—almost half
of it intact and still round, a great find amidst the innumerable
amount of stubby ones smashed by inconsiderate feet unaware
of the invaluable pleasure they can give to the tobacco-less,
penniless, and forgotten. My cold fingers fumbled to pull
a book of matches from my pocket. I struck a match and lit
the end of the stunted cigarette, dragging the smoke deep
into my lungs. The first hit of the day. It was comforting,
nurturing; ironically, like a breath of fresh air.
Living on the street at twenty-one, I had to admit that drugs
had played a large part in my fate. I started smoking pot
at thirteen, an average of three times a day (and frequently
as many as five or six). I experimented with just about every
drug imaginable. First I used the uppers, whites, or bennies,
as we called them, until I got too nervous and irritable.
I advanced to the downers until I became too spacey. Then
I moved on—to hallucinogens, LSD, and mescaline mostly.
After about six months of expanding my mind, I realized I
had little left of it. Each time I recognized that a particular
drug was unhealthy for me, I would give it up immediately
. . . and then go looking for another one. I had to try them
all before I could get it into my head that all drugs have
nasty side effects, especially when used with such high frequency
and dosage.
At eighteen, I moved out of my mother’s home (my father
died when I was seven). A year later, I gave up community
college for a lucrative career in dealing cocaine; at least,
it would have been lucrative if I hadn’t snorted all
the profits by supporting my $100-a-day habit.
When I turned twenty-one, I gave up selling and using coke,
which was the hardest drug of all to step away from. It took
me a little longer to realize its unhealthy effects, not only
because my ability to assess had become impaired but also
because my rationalization techniques had reached a level
of mastery. In addition to losing my job, residence, and important
relationships, I had seen many of my friends lose their jobs,
cars, and other belongings to buy drugs from me. All along
I rationalized that I was just providing a product, and it
wasn’t my fault if others couldn’t handle it in
a responsible way . . . like me.
There
were other, more subtle influences that played a crucial role
in my landing on the street. While I may have had some seemingly
positive motives for the path I had chosen—mind expansion,
the peaceful ideals of the drug counterculture—I had
used drugs to escape my own feelings of inadequacy. I was
aware of my low self-esteem, or to put it bluntly, self-hatred,
during my teen years. I knew that my chronic shyness as a
child also pointed to some kind of wound that I couldn’t
really put my finger on.
I also knew that I had unconsciously wanted to become destitute
in order to feel what it was like for the downtrodden, an
experience not common to someone like me, born in a white,
middle-class family in the San Fernando Valley. Compassionate
by nature, and always one who needed to experience in order
to fully learn, I derived a strange satisfaction in the humility
of realizing that I was no better than the shunned homeless.
I learned from first-hand experience that anyone, yes anyone,
could end up where I had arrived. With the right circumstances—a
succession of losses, debilitating illness, chemical imbalance,
or other traumas (all of which I had observed in my street
companions, things that could happen to anyone) could result
in the most undesirable of circumstances.
I also realized that if anyone, no matter how well-prepared
for success, could end up homeless, that anyone, no matter
how well-prepared for failure, could end up successful, could
end up living a life of purpose, passion, and freedom. As
I continued down the boulevard watching the bag ladies and
pimps go about their business, I decided that there must be
a better way to live. There must be more to life than this.
In that defining moment on that chilly November morning, I
vowed that I would pull myself out of it no matter what it
would take.
Three years earlier, for a brief one-year period when I first
moved out on my own, I gave up all drugs, even pot, and took
up meditation. Perhaps it was this practice, which I have
continued to use to this day, that got me through the cocaine
addiction and led me to enough self-understanding to choose
another path.
I landed a job stringing tennis rackets and later teaching
tennis lessons to groups of kids at a public club, skills
I owed to working for my mother years before who was a life-long
tennis pro. I fell in love with it and eventually became an
effective and popular teaching pro. I used some of the same
visualization techniques in my teaching that had kept me sane
through the rough times and led me toward a more purposeful
life. I taught people how to attain a meditative state while
playing tennis. This is the dynamic often referred to in sports
lingo as “the zone” and is described as a state
of increased awareness where everything is moving in slow
motion and mastery is effortless. Most athletes experience
this rare state spontaneously. The technique that I loosely
called Zen tennis is a way of consciously putting oneself
in this blissful and effective frame of mind.
The
first time I introduced the process to Bob, who later became
one of my star students, we both slipped into the magical
state.
“Watch the ball closer than you ever have before,”
I instructed. “Try seeing the rotation of the ball after
it bounces. Try watching the seam of the ball as it comes
toward your racket.”
His consistency immediately increased. I was silent for a
few moments as the rally continued.
“Now, expand your peripheral vision. See the lines and
the cracks on the surface of the court without reducing your
focus on the ball. . . . Now, widen your peripheral vision
to include the net, the fences, the trees outside of the court.
. . . Be aware of the sounds of the birds, cars driving by.
Become completely aware of the total experience in this moment.”
As I spoke these words, I practiced the technique myself.
A sense of freedom filled the game as I could sense us both
slipping into the zone. I ceased shouting the instructions,
as they were no longer needed. His game had elevated far above
the highest level that I had ever observed him play. His shots
were crisper, deeper, and he made fewer errors.
As I had experienced countless times before, my own movement
flowed effortlessly. My body knew exactly how to make the
most efficient and wisest shot. No competitive agenda existed,
only pure enjoyment in the ever-present moment. We played
like we were one being, breathing in and out as the ball rhythmically
swayed back and forth across the net. The super-conscious
intention was not to better the other but to produce the most
enjoyable experience for both.
When we finally stopped, our eyes met as we smiled.
“Wow! That was amazing,” Bob said softly.
Bob and other students went on to win tournaments using this
unique process, and others simply used it to improve their
technique and increase their enjoyment of the sport. This
was my first experience of empowering others professionally.
The joy and success gained from teaching these techniques
over the course of about eight years inspired my desire to
touch more people with the freedom that could be achieved
through the practice. I had already given up all drugs, then
cigarettes, then alcohol, done a great deal of study in metaphysics,
had begun training in spiritual psychology, and had been teaching
a meditation class for a couple years. I suggested to my class
that we launch a magazine dedicated to spiritual and metaphysical
principles. The seven people in the meditation class, none
of whom had any experience in publishing, became the first
staff of Meditation magazine (and later Better World magazine),
a national consumer magazine that was published from 1985
to 1992.
In the early days of the magazine, we often engaged in heated
arguments about what articles to offer in a forthcoming issue.
I recognized after some time that we were actually fighting
about how to create peace in the world. As a result of this
epiphany, I learned that our work is less about the product
or end result than it is about the process of creation. The
perceived goal of any business or venture of any kind is really
an opportunity to interact with others in a creative (even
if some jobs seem mundane) way that inspires us to grow as
we accomplish the goal. I vowed to always focus on applying
my vision for the world to my immediate surroundings. Sometimes
I succeeded and sometimes I failed, but I have continued to
improve both in intention and effectiveness.
In
the early nineties, the U.S. economy ran into a recession
that wiped out half of our advertising base, so we decided
to cut our losses. Pulling the plug on the magazine was perhaps
the most difficult decision of my life. Even so, I had learned
a tremendous amount of skills and recognized opportunities
that could take me in many different directions. I had learned
how to manage all aspects of the magazine business. I had
become a pretty good writer and also quite proficient at teaching
spiritual psychology. I learned how to empower others through
my writing, teaching, and management strategies. We received
countless letters from those whose lives had been touched
by the messages printed in the articles we published.
I
was burned out from trying to promote my teaching and even
more burned from the pressures of managing a struggling business,
and as a result, had little interest in teaching or management
at that time. So in deciding what I wanted to do next, I concluded
that of all the activities in the magazine business, the one
I most enjoyed on a day-to-day basis was typesetting.
My decision to apply for and, ultimately, land a typesetting
position at Sage Publications, a world-renowned academic publisher,
resulted from choosing what I would enjoy most as opposed
to what I thought would bring the greatest financial reward.
I knew that I could make three to four times as much money
in advertising sales or management, both of which I did quite
well, but just thinking about those prospects turned my stomach.
I had learned through the magazine effort as well as through
much personal growth to let go of my belief that life is a
struggle.
After about a year in the typesetting position, an opportunity
for supervisor of the small typesetting department opened
up and I applied. Because of the fine job I had done in empowering
the people I worked with, I was given the position. Six months
later, I was promoted to manager of thirty-two employees,
which grew to forty-five with ongoing success. Two years later
I was promoted to director over three departments and seventy-five
employees. I managed a $4 million budget and earned a salary
double that of my wildest fantasies.
A manager came into my office one day and asked to speak to
me. “I just wanted to let you know that what you have
taught me about management, I have applied to other goals
and in my relationships, and my life has profoundly improved
as a result,” he said.
This was the greatest compliment I could have received and
one of many similar comments made by others with whom I worked
intimately over the years.
After several years of being celebrated as a star manager
and director and receiving the highest praise and financial
rewards allowed, I walked into my boss’s office for
my review. His head drooped a little and lines creased his
forehead. He avoided my eyes. What sat on his desk was not
the conventional file folder thick enough to be a seven- to
ten-page review but a thin one, like one sheet’s worth.
Could it be? No, it isn’t possible, I thought. However,
that thin file contained the same one-page document I had
handed to those I had let go (in the most compassionate way
possible) in the past.
“We are eliminating your position to cut down on expenses,”
he said with watering eyes.
Shock overcame me and numbness filled my body. At first I
had no idea what I would do next. I had to re-identify who
I was, which probably happens to anyone who loses their job
and is without an immediate alternative. It is easy to become
identified as our job. In a few days, I began to see the potential
blessing and look for opportunities that I could move toward.
Rather than going off and submitting resumes to other academic
publishers, I used my severance package to make ends meet
while I completed The Magic of the Soul: Applying Spiritual
Power to Daily Living. Trusting the lesson I had learned when
I took the typesetting position years before, I chose to do
what would bring me the most joy. Had I not lost my job and
made this choice, I would have still completed the book, but
it would never have become as valuable a tool as it did. I
never would have begun teaching workshops and classes again
if I had continued to prosper in the corporate world. I never
would have started teaching the lessons I had learned from
my long and windy path. I would not have written this article.
If my path seems a bit idyllic, it is because I have left
out much of the challenge. The lack of self-worth that led
me to escape through drugs was also my greatest challenge
all along the road to becoming a proficient tennis pro, manager,
writer, and teacher. Not feeling accepted as a child from
an alcoholic father and loving but often critical mother led
me to constantly battle my inner sense of inadequacy. But
I no longer experience my lack of self-worth as a detriment.
My feelings of not being accepted have actually become the
inspiration that has led me to empower others to recognize
their magnificence. What was at one time my greatest perceived
liability has become my greatest ally in fulfilling my mission.
This realization is the most profound statement of self-acceptance
and love that I have ever learned.
To help others clarify their purpose, I often ask, “What
is your vision of an ideal world?” and then, “What
quality or guidance didn’t you get enough of as a child?”
There is always a direct link between the two. What we didn’t
get as children is what we are inspired to create in the world.
What we struggle to develop or to heal within ourselves is
what we want to share with others.
On my first book tour about three years ago I offered a lecture
called Living Your Passion at a local library in Tahoe, California.
After conducting a short exercise to clarify purpose, I asked
people to speak up if they were still unclear. In the third
row sat a woman with shoulder-length brown hair probably in
her early thirties.
“I don’t know what my purpose or my passion is.
I’m really confused,” she said with her brows
turned downward.
“What do you love to do?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. Nothing has ever really worked
out for me.”
“What did you not get enough of when you were a child?”
“Safety from my brother’s abuse,” was her
immediate reply.
I paused a moment. A deafening silence filled the room.
“How
do you feel when you create safety for others, when you inspire
or empower someone to feel safe and secure?” I asked
as the hair rose on my arms, which happens nearly every time
a core life purpose is revealed.
Her face lit up with a tender smile. “Yes. I love to
do that,” she said. But I have tried working for women’s
centers, and I don’t feel I have been successful at
empowering others to feel safe.”
“Are you aware that you empowered everyone in this room
by taking the risk to share so openly?” I asked with
tears welling in my eyes. The entire room nodded their heads
in agreement.
At the end of the lecture, she was buying one of my books
and someone came up and said to her, “Thank you for
sharing so openly.”
I realized at an even deeper level how profound her service
had been to the group. Our eyes met in shared acknowledgment
of her power. She empowered and inspired me and will continue
to empower others as I share her story.
I owe what success I have achieved and the joy with which
I am blessed in doing the work illustrated above to believing
that anything is possible, applying spiritual principles in
my daily life, choosing what I love, and most importantly,
having a consistent intention to fulfill my purpose—to
empower others to accept themselves—to help them recognize
their own magnificence.
People tend to confuse purpose with career. Our purpose is
not our job. Our purpose is what we fulfill through our jobs.
Our purpose is the outpouring of our love, our desire to help
others, our wish to contribute. It is something that we can,
in fact, fulfill (at least to some degree) through any career
but can also fulfill in increasingly direct and enjoyable
ways as we evolve our life’s success vision.
The more consistent we become in fulfilling our purpose in
the here and now (rather than waiting until we are in the
right job or for some other condition to come about), the
clearer the path becomes of how to fulfill it in more direct
and successful ways. The joyful success that comes from contributing
to the lives of others, directly or indirectly, inspires us,
even forces us, to move forward in finding more profound and
effective ways to serve--ideal vocation. If we feel we can’t
fulfill our purpose to others at any moment in time, it means
we need to offer it to ourselves, and when we are full, it
overflows from us naturally. We can fulfill our mission in
life in this very moment and in every moment that we choose
to answer our sacred call and live in the passion of life
purpose.
I have come to the conclusion that if I could accomplish what
I have coming all the way from the streets of Hollywood, that
anyone can accomplish whatever their dream may be. I am in
ecstasy when I have the opportunity to assist others in realizing
their purpose. I have worked with underprivileged children,
corporate executives, and spiritual teachers, and the key
to everyone’s success is in this simple formula.
-
Identify and apply life purpose in consistently in the here
and now.
-
Formulate a clear and complete success vision of the dream
or ideal vocation (two, five, or even 10 years down the
line).
-
Create a practical plan for success, and take the practical
steps. One need not know all the steps or exactly how to
realize complete success. As long as the first few steps
are outlined and taken, the rest will become clear along
the road to fulfilling one’s highest passion.
Toll
Free 866-204-2261
Living
Purpose Institute
2593
Young Avenue
Thousand
Oaks, CA 91360
patrick@magicofthesoul.com
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