On 5/31/2014 3:22 AM, TurquoiseBee turquoi...@yahoo.com [FairfieldLife]
wrote:
Good rap by Geoff Gilpin, from his blog. He deals well with one of the
not-discussed-very-often aspects of spiritual teaching. That is, that
the spiritual teacher is a junkie, hooked on a drug called spiritual
teaching.
>
The first thing to do is probably to learn /a little Tai Chi/ and be
able to hold a pose, so that you don't look like a total idiot on the
dance floor. Leading the silent meditation would be the easy part.
>
Recently, a friend invited me to join her meditation group. The four
people in her group meet every week to practice Tai Chi. They start
each session with a guided meditation.
She described me to her friends in the group as a person with a lot of
experience with meditation who might be interested in joining and
leading the sessions. The other people in the group responded
enthusiastically.
When I read the email with the invitation, I had one of those “fork in
the road” moments.
You know how, in the movies, a character has to make a crucial
decision with huge consequences? For example, a person arrives at a
Greyhound station and sees two coaches, one marked “Oshkosh” and the
other “New York City.” The movie shows the chain of events that occurs
when the character gets on one bus, then the other, resulting in
triumph or disaster.
I read that email invitation and I flashed back to my years in a
fringe religious sect. I recalled how it started—so many young and
idealistic people ready to change the world. Maharishi was upbeat and
accessible. It was like a big party.
Years passed and fewer and fewer people saw Maharishi in person. He
withdrew to a secluded compound and surrounded himself with a small
band of true believers. His teachings grew more and more bizarre. In
his final years, he occasionally appeared on video, surrounded by vast
floral displays and a computer-generated golden nimbus, to rail
against democracy and threaten doom.
In the end, Maharishi didn’t turn out well, but how many of us would
do a better job? Imagine the pressure he was under—decades of fawning
adulation by crowds projecting their hopes on him. The constant drone
of sycophants telling him what they thought he wanted to hear. The
total lack of normal human relationships. How many of us could survive
all that without cracking up?
So, I got that email invitation and I imagined myself sitting
cross-legged looking out at eager faces waiting for spiritual insight.
I hit Reply and firmly declined the offer.
If I’d taken the other bus, I doubt that I would turn out like
Maharishi. I doubt I’d ever have the opportunity. I might have even
done some good.
That’s all beside the point. I turned down the invitation to lead a
group meditation for the same reason that some people say they don’t
want to try heroin.
I might like it.
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