by Hew Dalrymple

Created on: March 21, 2009

Spiritual Insights to practice altruism in our spiritual path

Altruism: The quality of unselfish concern for the welfare of others.

Selfish: Concern chiefly, or only for one's self at the expense of the welfare of others

Spiritual: Concerned with or affecting the spirit or soul.

My wife and I were playing scrabble. She was beating me as usual. I disputed a word she had spelled with a double l', and the dictionary was called for to help settle the matter. The word was altruistic. On this particular occasion I was well armed with the philosophy of Ayn Rand, having just read her Atlas Shrugged' and The Fountainhead'. Altruism was not depicted in a positive light when practiced in a capitalist economy. Next Saturday was the final for the Rowing Regatta; I was the Stroke (That's the guy or gal at the rear end, the first oar, which set the pace for the powerhouse crew behind)

The big day turned out to be fine, but the wind was like a knife in butter, slicing the surface of the bay and then returning as a gust to scalp its prey. Would it be cancelled? We won our heat by nearly a length over a partly sheltered half mile. The big race was to be just under a mile, across that choppy bay and scheduled three and a half hours away. Our number 7 oar had friends watching the race from a yacht and the crew had been invited aboard for a hot drink and stretch our legs. Sounded like a good idea, so we pulled along to their leeside, up oars on our bow side to get within boarding range. Well, can you imagine what would happen to a racing shell with all its support on the one side suddenly lifted off the water. Yes, it rolled gracefully over, dumping 1,500 pounds of muscle and no brains into the bay. Getting the craft to shore, emptying the water, keeping ourselves warm in wet clothes was a challenge to the moral of all, and the coxswain was very close to getting a thick ear by the time we had that hot drink.?

Treacherous winds, churning waves, and a racing shell don't mix well, and all six finalists had difficulty in lining up. The starter's gun left no smoke(I can remember noticing that) After the finely coordinated short stokes designed to move the craft quickly from resting, we settled into the reach, catch-pull rhythm, accompanied by the whoosh of the outward breath of eight men, working as one. The rhythm of that boat reached an early peak and then I' wasn't there. Eight minds working as one left no room for individual thought, my body working on automatic pilot until 100 yards

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