The Gilligan Dilemma

 


Gilligan had three wishes and also happened to be stranded on a deserted island with six others. He got everyone together on the beach one day. Some had their luggage, and some were just looking forward to getting off the little island.

That episode carefully built things up to this moment, and Gilligan finally said:

“I wish we were off this island.”

You see a crack forming, and the section of beach where everyone stood breaks off and floats out into the lagoon—and stops.

And there is the dilemma:

He got his one wish,
but certainly did not get what he wanted.


This is a life lesson.

If we are not careful with our own desires, we will find ourselves realizing many things—without the slightest joy.

Maybe your desires aren’t well-defined?

This is where we should consider the feelings we seek from our wishes—and wish instead for those feelings.


This was Neville Goddard’s entire message.

Eckhart Tolle pointed to the same truth. He once spoke with a woman who said she wanted a house on a hill in Malibu. He corrected her and said something like:

“No, what you want is to feel the way you think you would feel
if you had a house on a hill in Malibu.”
(Paraphrased from memory.)


If the myth of Gilligan’s adventure had been an actual account, don’t you suppose he would have felt disappointed upon getting exactly what he’d wished for?

If Gilligan had met Eckhart Tolle before making his wish, Tolle would have said:

“Now Gilligan, don’t focus on the geography.
Don’t wish simply to be off the island.

Wish instead for the feeling you would have
when you finally see your loved ones again.

Wish for that feeling.”


The Lagoon Dilemma

I’ve noticed the same dilemma—Gilligan’s dilemma—in Georgia’s wealthier people.

I am always tempted to say:

“What are you complaining about? You got your wish.

You have millions in the bank.
Your kids are scattering.
You’ve got a dreadful physical condition.
You don’t have a good marriage.
You’ve made enemies in a lot of places.

This is the lagoon, baby.
You weren’t thinking about these things
when you were after your money.”


I’ve seen the Lagoon Dilemma in Mom, too.

She made the common mistake of believing that she is her body. It’s subtle, but if you know people well enough, you can see it.

If Mom had one wish, she blew it—by making it past her 90th birthday.

It seems she assumed that she could gather joy and build good relationships if only her heart would keep beating. But when I visit the facility that’s now in charge of her body, I see that lagoon-look on her face.

Still, when she prays to God, she says:

“God, please give me more time.”

If I thought it would help, I’d give her a good Tolle-like talking to. I’d say:

“Time is not what you want.
You want to feel the way you think you would feel
if all the right things were to happen
within the time you’re pleading for.”

But it’s too late for that chat.

Mom’s skull is a fortified bunker,
where this idea of hers is protected from any reasonable intruder.

I’ve been trying to get her to let me in for many years.


Zen, and Daddy

Having Daddy to compare Mom to, I see the difference that Zen makes.

Daddy developed a far better way of looking at the world.
He considered his life story complete.

He didn’t have much money.
Never owned a new car.
His clothes were always work attire.
He was completely satisfied with a bowl of potato soup or a cup of coffee.

What did he desire?

“I just want everybody to be happy and well,”
is exactly what he would say.

Nothing more. Nothing less.


When this is your goal, you can be happy without a single tangible interference of any kind.

  • No money needed

  • No special location

  • No possessions

  • No audience

  • No outcome


But I saw Daddy when he’d gotten it wrong, earlier in his own story.

He fought with his family over this land.
He argued with neighbors about property lines.

If you had interviewed my dad back then, he’d have said:

“I just want this property, and I want everyone to stay off of it.”

But my dad wasn’t a fool. He got what he wanted—and then he reflected.

His values changed forever when he held his first grandchild.

He held Harper Lee
and just started laughing.

From that moment on, wherever she was would do.

He’d get into that black Ford truck, leave the land he’d fought so hard to keep, and go sit in a folding chair just to hold Harper.

He would have given up everything
and gone anywhere
and sat in any chair
if it meant holding that baby.


To anyone watching, it looked like the most natural thing in the world.

But to me, it was a paradigm shift in my dad’s personality.

It wasn’t magic.
It was rewiring.

He simply discovered the real secret of life.


The Secret, by What It Is Not:

  1. It is not money.

  2. It is not things.

  3. It is not your body.

  4. It is not what you are wearing.

  5. It is not possessions.

  6. It is not a place.

  7. It is not a thought or many thoughts.

  8. It has nothing to do with time (meaning the length thereof).


The Secret is Joy.

But don’t stop there.

If you go out digging for joy, you’ll be like Yukon Cornelius, tasting the tip of his pickaxe and muttering:

“Nothing.”


How I Discovered It

I found the secret in myth.

The most important myth to me is The Story of Manna.

Let me condense it:

A group of people wandering in the desert prayed for food.
The next morning, there was bread on the ground.

They didn’t know what it was, so they called it:

“Manna” — which means, What is it?

They were told to gather only what they needed for that day—and to gather for those who couldn’t.

Later, Jesus said:

“Give us this day, our daily bread.”

That was a direct reference to Manna—the daily bread from heaven.


I searched every philosophical, scientific, religious, and New Age text I could find.

And I finally discovered:

The Grand Unified Goal of the Universe is Joy.


What’s Driving the Universe?

The Universe—and/or God—and/or Love—could not experience itself without opposites, so opposites occurred.

I imagined the space where those opposites split like atoms and pushed out the universe faster than the speed of light.

It couldn’t have been Love driving it—Love is already perfect.
It wasn’t matter either. Matter came from Love.

So what was causing the expansion?

Joy.

Joy is the feeling desired by the Universe.
And it is why you are here.

You can have the joy you need.
You can give away the extra.
But you cannot store it.


God is already all Love.

God cannot become more Love by volume.
More of “all there is” doesn’t make sense.

So what would Love desire?

Joy.

Joy can only exist when there’s a choice.
Joy must have an opposite.

Love doesn’t need an opposite. Joy does.


Love is the first uncaused cause.
Consciousness is the first caused cause.
And the purpose of consciousness
is to expand the Universe by accumulating Joy.


The reason Love reflects itself is the same reason my father laughed while holding Harper.

It’s the experience of Joy
in a world where not-Joy exists.

God had to become that which did not know Himself,
in order to feel what it’s like to rediscover what He’s always been.

Like looking into a mirror—
You know who you are.
But your reflection has no idea who you are.

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