Enlightened Endopterygota
There was a time when I would read every morsel of Nisargadatta and his disciples, listen to each Adyashanti audio track and watch all of the Mooji videos on youtube from dawn till dusk. Because I wanted what they had. I wanted to be awake. It was more than just a passing envy, I wanted so much to escape my monkey mind and end the suffering that I would meditate like I was training for a marathon. The desperation behind the practice was an irony that was lost to me in the moment.
But seeing the sages in print or media made it seem like it was possible for me. It certainly looked easy. Breathe a bit, surrender now and Zen and then you too can attain eternal peace on earth. And if watching a few Vimeos didn’t bring you to the gateless gate there are a thousand gargoyles who will be more than ecstatic to accept your gold card in exchange for their guru-4-U services. And the more you spend the faster you will get to the finish line. Right?
We want what we think they have. Because on the surface things look so good for them. They never raise their voice (well, accept Nisargadatta, because he was a special kind of monster truck master) they never get afraid, lonely, sad or get put on hold by their cable company for 81 hours.
Its the Zen version of the grass is always greener on the other side of the yin yang. And I understand that, I do. I was a desparate seeker for much of my post-adolescence-apocalyptic life. And I can’t say that I’ve stopped circling the wagons in my perimenapausal jeers. But I am more likely to see myself running on the hamster wheel and realize that I am not going to land in Oz any time soon.
For other’s attaining the state of the sage, is much like getting another scout badge. It is something they can sew on their habit and show the world that they have arrived! I suspect its like showing your AARP card at Denny’s for the grande slam early bird blue plate special. We want to be acknowledged for our achievement because somehow that makes it more real. And if its real it can’t be taken away from us. Right?
Of course its not just enlightenment that we are rushing to the edge of the ledge to catch the last train. We want a marriage license, a fixed-rate mortgage loan, and a cemetary plot by the sea … Look! I have a guarantee and it is notarized so it means something. On the flip side of Kanishka coin, the redneck and I have a public persona of the ultimate fairytale ending. That is to say, we met under unlikely circumstances and over came all odds to be together at what some would call the last inning of our lives. From the outside (translation, inside our Facebook) our love affair look easy. Every single woman I know (and some not single) has commented to me (and many to the redneck himself) that they want what I have. Because it would appear on the surface that we have found something that only exists in the pages of a romcom novel. What they don’t see of course, is the pain and suffering that exists at the very core of the thin ice that we skate upon.
When people say they want what we have, what they mean is they want the small piece of the package that shines brightly in the department store window. The reality is, we both manage chronic illness on so many levels you would need a fly’s multifacited eye to view the whole picture. For us, there is no certainty, no utopic affiance that gives either of us a sense of security. There is no place we can hide from the pain when it grips us like an anaconda.
A wise person said recently — I am sicker now, than I have been before but I am happier now than I have ever been in my lifetime. And I understood because I too feel this way each and every day. Sure I still occasionally reach for the brass ring hoping that if I grab it I will be able to get off this carousel. But I don’t spend as much time in the pipe dream as I do the waking state of this is as good as it gets. And at this point in my life, being awake is so much more exciting than the dream state of delusion.
