Let’s get small

I remember when Steve Martin released a comedy album titled “Let’s Get Small.” It’s really just the advice I need. Too often I tend to get caught up in “bigness.” My mind fixes on “the big picture,” and likes to get drunk on “big ideas.” While I think there are a heck of a lot of people who would do well to think outside their little boxes, with me, it’s a bit different.

After I had the letdown from my cosmic inspiration a few days ago, I remembered stuff which I really knew full well. Don’t seek “enlightenment.” Instead practice the presence of God in everything, every moment. That divine awareness is enlightenment. Last month, for a while, I actually had experienced some freedom from the wanting engine. How easily it comes back!

But there’s help all around. A friend emailed me with the helpful advice to not focus on the grand finale, but appreciate all the little experiences.

Rumi wrote:
> The mystery does not get clearer by repeating the question,
nor is it bought with going to amazing places.

> Until you’ve kept you eyes
and your wanting still for fifty years,
> you don’t begin to cross over from confusion.

In the *Gospel of Thomas,* Jesus says,
>Come to know what is in front of you,
and that which is hidden from you will become clear to you.
>For there is nothing hidden
that will not become manifest.

And Mother Teresa:
>We can do no great deeds.
>We can only do small things with great love.

Dang Experiences!

Some seekers seemed to be blessed by having few “mystical experiences” along the way. I’m not one of them. You name it, and it’s happened to me (or so it seems–really there’s a lot that *hasn’t* happened to me, thank God). The problem is that I don’t want “experiences,” I want the transformation of awakening. Theosis. Enlightenment. The Big “E.” Most of my experiences tend to be intellectual or emotional in nature. As my teacher reminds me, they can help encourage me to stay on the path. And as he also reminds me, they are not what I’m seeking.

Sometimes I feel like giving up. It seems impossible to move beyond my thoughts and feelings. No matter how inspirational or “insightful,” thoughts are just thoughts. I sometimes despair of being able to move past thought. My meditation is filled with thought. I seldom am able to experience “the witness” for more than a few seconds.

In *Hardcore Zen,* Brad Warner writes with unusual candor about some of his deceptive experiences, and how his teacher helped him to move past. I’m fortunate to have a teacher who’s helping me the same way. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I could just think my way in. Dang experiences!

Be Thankful!

It strikes me that Thanksgiving is most spiritual American holiday. Christmas has largely become the holiday of merchandise, and Easter is too, to a lesser extent. All Saint’s Eve—once the day of remembering all the heroes of the Christian faith—has become almost totally lost in Halloween.

Holidays like Pentecost and Ascension just aren’t celebrated much, except for a few words in the churches that note them (which is quite a far cry from all).

Amid the gorging and the football, there’s also something more subtle and wonderful thriving in Thanksgiving—calling people together to share time with each other and focus, for at least a few minutes, on everything that’s right, instead of everything that’s wrong.

Thanksgiving is not specifically Christian, Muslim, Jewish or Buddhist. It belongs to everyone. Thanksgiving’s only theme is gratitude, which is at the root of all true worship.

If you have loved ones, be thankful!
If you have food, be thankful!
If you are alive, be thankful!

What am I?

A friend of mine at work passed out a questionnaire she wrote for a class about language, race, and “social class.” Needless to say, I had fun with it.

One really good part was the question “Does your language reflect your race?”
I wrote: What’s my race? Caucasian? Anglo-German? Human? I don’t know if my language reflects my race, but it does reflect *me.* In the course of a day I might use mostly Standard American English (with a few Ebonic phrases) a few words Spanish or German words, and if the subject warrants, a dash of Sanskrit. What race is that?

Then, it asked me to identify my “social class.” I was genuinely confused. I had hoped notions of “social class” sank with the Titanic, but here I was, being asked to identify my “class.” What the hell does that mean? Is it where I am, socially? Oh, well…
I wrote: “… working middle-income techno-geek nerd-mystic living alone in Ghent.”

My friend ended up putting me into a more conventional category before handing her survey results to her professor!

Now granted, I do like to mess with people when it comes to the assumptions that are usually unquestioned, but identifications are part of, (a big part of) the sickness of the world. We abbreviate reality with concepts, and then further abbreviate them with categories. We identify ourselves with certain groups, and then feel that we are separate from and superior or inferior to those who are not of those groups. We identify ourselves with our past experiences, with our past emotions, with our churches, temples, synagogues, and mosques. We identify ourselves with “races,” nations, sports teams, “social classes” and tribes. Gradually, the maze of labels becomes more “real” to us than the simple reality itself. We even fight, kill, and die for the identifications which have taken over our minds.

After reality is forgotten, it’s essential to recover the truth. I am here. I seem to looking out through eyes, and living in a body with a beating heart, and breathing air. Things that have happened are not me, they merely form a story. Those I love are simply those I love. Many things define my life, but nothing defines me. No label can capture the reality. I am. What am I? In the words of the immortal Popeye, "I yam what I yam." Or as Rumi put it:

Not Christian or Jew or Muslim,

not Hindu, Buddhist, sufi, or zen.

Not any religion or cultural system.

I am not from the East or the West,

not out of the ocean or up from the ground,

not natural or ethereal, not composed of elements at all.

I do not exist, am not an entity in this world or the next,

did not descend from Adam and Eve or any origin story.

My place is placeless, a trace of the traceless.

Neither body or soul.

I belong to the Beloved, have seen the two worlds as one,

and that one call to and know,

first, last, outer, inner, only

that breath-breathing human being.

The Essential Rumi

The Kingdom and the Empire redux

A few years ago, I posted a page on this site contrasting the Kingdom that Jesus preached with the Empire(s) that man builds. The Empire is about power, control, influence and thought. The Kingdom is about love. Even in most religious environments, the Empire is more more prominent than the Kingdom. Emperor Theodosius even went so far as to name Jesus the head of the Byzantine Empire, forgetting that Yeshua said,

"The kingdom of God does not come visibly, nor will people say, ‘Here it is, ‘ or There it is,’ because the kingdom of God is within you." —Luke 17:20-21

Yep, the words are inspiring, but if I’m really honest with myself, I’ve got to admit, I would like it to be outside of me. I’d like my leaders and teachers to bring it about. But only I can reveal it where I am. It’s not a matter of getting the right guy into office, but getting my "self " out of office. This is the real point of Christianity, to get self out of the way, so the Light of God, which is already here, can shine.

Sometimes it seems that absolutely no one understands, and when I feel that way, I have to realize that I’ve lost sight of the truth, and have become stuck on appearance. The kingdom is here right now. Despite terrorism and war, gluttony and famine, corporate greed and personal license, God is here, in every soul, waiting for the mask of the cravings, angers, and fears to break, like a butterfly shedding its chrysalis.

This is the work of the kingdom, to know that we are nothing, and in that No-thing, is everything. The only thing. One thing only. Heaven is here. How creatively we hide it! That’s Jedi life in the real world.

Freedom from Want

It’s occurred to me how much noise there is in most spiritual websites, spiritual books, and so forth. (And this one is one of the worst!) That’s because most writers, like me, try to use concepts to get beyond the concepts. We blather about this tradition and that tradition, this Scripture and that Scripture, this teacher and that, this experience and that. In addition, this blog is the "online journal" variety, sharing my downs as well as my ups.

But since the little revelation I had Sunday night, I see that the noise itself is the silence, that "samsara is nirvana." It’s hard to describe—I see garbage by the curb, and it seems as beautiful as a painting in a museum, although I still have the urge to pick it up (or wish someone else would!).

I can only laugh at the energy and time I’ve invested in spiritual "seeking." What is there to seek, when God is in everything you are, everything you see, touch, smell, and hear? Why do we seek the return of the Lord, when he said "I am with you always"?

Just renounce wanting, having, needing. Live your life, meet your responsibilities, do what’s appropriate to do, and don’t resent or resist unpleasant things, or crave or try to hold onto the pleasant circumstances. A roller coaster has ups and downs, without them, the ride’s no fun at all. You wanted to go to heaven right? Open your eyes. "There" is here!

Jon, updated

I’ve made a few changes to the site this last week. I’ve jazzed up a couple of the stylesheets, revised and reposted the pages on Biblical Panentheism and Universal Salvation. Also I completely rewrote the review of Waking Life. Its vision of life as a lucid dream was something which I could not get when it first came out. Now, it’s screamingly obvious. When I’m more aware, I see that my existence is very much like a lucid dream. Ordinary life, without awareness, is like a sleep. One who’s begun to realize his true nature, begins to see it as a lucid dream, aware that he is dreaming. It’s an incredible metaphor, actually much better as metaphor than The Matrix.

I also came back to two texts with much greater understanding. The Tao Te Ching was the first Eastern religious text I had ever read. I’ve read it several times, but not in the last five years since I began meditating and exploring the nature of things. In the past, my "mysticism" was philosophical, now it’s much deeper. There’s so much in there that no one can understand deeply until they begin practicing it deeply, and then it opens up.

Also, I revisited The Gospel of Thomas again. I read that more recently, but going back again, since my practice has deepened as a quest to know my being in the Ground of Being, I understand so much more there than I ever did before. The scholars write commentary after commentary, but cannot "get" it, since it’s beyond everyone who’s not practicing.

Come to know what is in front of you, and that which is hidden from you will become clear to you. For there is nothing hidden that will not become manifest. —Thomas 5

That brings me to what really "updated" me tonight. In my last post I was quite discouraged and in a state of "spiritual indigestion." But taking Mark’s advice regarding SI was helpful— very, very helpful. As he suggested, I sat down quietly and renounced knowledge and desire from my heart. (I know nothing, I need nothing, I want absolutely nothing.) Tonight, after sitting in the quiet of that no-thing-ness for a little, something just "popped," and I realized, this is it. This is really it!

Soto Zen calls just-sitting meditation "the first enlightenment." The thing is that simply being in that awareness of Being is what enlightenment is. The abbot of The Cloud of Unknowing and the Book of Privy Counsel pretty much says the same thing, that this is the contemplative work of eternity. It’s so easy to get caught up in seeking the big, explosive, once-and-for-all "capital E" Enlightenment, which is nothing more than neurotic, clinging, desire. My teacher told me to give up wanting enlightenment, and now I think I have. I can see its here.

As Jesus said: Come to know what is in front of you, and that which is hidden from you will become clear to you.

It’s so easy. My heart overflows with gratitude. Thank You, Father.

Spiritual Indigestion

Probably the most helpful spiritual website I’ve ever seen is Pure Silence. org by Mark McCloskey. I came across this post today, and it hit home, to put it mildly.

I’m disgusted with my own "spirituality." I’m sick and tired of mysticism, I’m weary of wanting to awaken. I feel like I just want to go back to sleep.

Destroy the World, Save the Earth

I’ve got to apologize for going so long between posts. Sometimes what I want to share here in this space feels so personal, or so difficult to put into words, that I end up not doing it at all.

Something that’s been on my mind the last couple of weeks is “the world” vs. “the earth.” There’s a big, big difference between the two, and probably the easiest way to distinguish them, is simply by realizing that the world is not real. What do I mean by not “real?” Well, take a look at the earth, for contrast. Look at your friends, spouse, kids, your cat, dog or parakeet—those are real. Look at yourself. Feel your skin, your clothes, your headache or your peace. That is real. They are there. Go outside, see the cars, the grass, the sky, birds, clouds, bushes and asphalt. Real again. Better yet, give yourself a nice, total immmersion experience of reality—go canoeing in a park, or mountain biking, or swimming in the ocean, with a minimum of thinking or conversation. You’ll start to get to know the difference.

What’s not real? Everything that exists only in the mind. Chances are, as soon as you start talking with someone, conversations will turn to things that have no basis in reality. Whether someone or something is “good” or “bad.” Whether something “means” something else or not. The past. That’s right, the past happened, but it is not real. Past sounds like passed for a reason. The future is obviously not real, but we devote inordinate amounts of our thoughts to it.
When you feel stress about the future, you’re feelings are real enough, but their cause is unreal. There’s some profound truth in the trite workplace sign “FEAR = False Evidence Appearing Real.”

But there’s a lot more non-reality to become aware of. Our very identities are pieces of the past we esteem and carry on with us into the present. If you ask my name, I’ll say, “Jon.” That’s a real sound, but how does it become a shorthand for me? I could have been named Douglas, Vladimir, or Akhbar. And if I so chose to, I could change it. Ask my nationality, and I’ll say “American.” What I really mean is that I was born in a part of the earth where people had agreed to recognize an organization of people as having some authority over them, and by agreement, this organization was known as the government of the United States of America.

But look at a view of the earth from space, and there are no lines drawn, no square patches colored blue, pink, or yellow, and no names written upon the land. There’s no “United States of America” there, no “Switzerland,” and no “Iraq.” What’s real are the nameless landmasses with their nameless forests, plains and deserts and the nameless oceans, lakes and rivers.

I am not my past, my name, my family, my upbringing, my country, my religion, my ideas, nor my thoughts. Neither are you. Kind of makes you wonder why all the fights about names, families, lifestyles, countries, religions, and ideologies, doesn’t it?

Meditation is an opportunity to begin stripping away the conditioning, the associations, and shared hallucinations that comprise “the world.” What are you, there in the dark, with eyes closed, with no name, no past, no future? What is that? It’s worth getting to know, because that is real. That is you.

A Breath of Hastily Denied Honesty

In an unexpected moment of candor less than two weeks ago, the President of the United States said regarding “the war on terror:” “I don’t think we can win it. But I think you can create conditions so that those who use terror are less acceptable in parts of the world.”

Knowing that such honesty doesn’t play well at the polls, the President and his handlers rapidly spun it to mean nearly the exact opposite, that the United States can and will definitely bring an end to terrorism. Of course, his opponent, John Kerry, must also pretend that such a war is winnable.

Of course the war is unwinnable, at least by the methods presently used by nations. Great Britain’s war against the Irish Republican Army has been going on for eighty years now, Israel’s against the PLO for nearly sixty, Russia’s against Chechnya for a full decade, and the list goes on. A war is winnable only if its fuel can be exhausted. The fuel of violence is resentment. How is resentment brought to an end? By either the complete and total exhaustion of one of the two warring entities, or by ending the underlying resentment that fuels the violence.

World War II was won by the utter exhaustion of the Axis powers, after the destruction of millions of people on both sides. A single entity, like a government, can indeed be brought to such exhaustion. The Taliban fell, Saddam Hussein fell. But Iraqi and American forces are now wracked by almost daily terror attacks. Al-Qaeda still commits terror attacks around the world. Afghanistan is now back in the control of local warlords financed by the opium trade, and Iraq has largely disintegrated into chaos. Brutal dictatorships like Pakistan are propped up with weapons and money to become even more dictatorial to their citizens.

This is the simple truth, which no one wants to say, and no one wants to hear: War doesn’t stop terrorism. It fuels the resentment, and for every terrorist killed, more rise up, as long as the resentment grows.

This is the bitter truth that world leaders must face, regardless of their country or party: do what is needed to end the resentment, and you will cut off terrorism at its source. It’s essential that we try to understand why our enemies hate us, and how we can change that hatred into something else.

Not a thousand American troops, nor ten thousand Iraqi civilians killed, nor any number of insurgents, militants, or terrorists killed will bring peace, as long as people are angry enough to die.

I told you you didn’t want to hear it, but that’s Jedi life in the real world.