Unc's piece has triggered some reflection and thoughts on similar
themes. That I may end up at a different point is not in any way a
critique of Unc's views but more a celebration of the diversity of how
life flows through us.
A few months after Unc groked (a common word of that year and era)
his "cognition" in the Greek theatre, I found myself, a 17 year old
high school seeker, hitchhiking across the bay to sit and hear the
same man in white cloth sit in the Berkeley Community Theatre talking
of life as bliss. A view that grabbed my attention.
And that "peaceful people created a peaceful world". A view that
greatly appealed to me - having spent part of that summer with Joan
Baez and company at her Institute for the Study of Non-Violence in
Carmel Valley -- spending the days, sitting on the floor, discussing
war, violence, peace, philosophy, politics, non-violence history,
tactics and spiritual roots, gandhi, inner and world transformation,
social change, oppression, poverty, and more and more .. with a
eclectic band of seekers -- all 5-10 years older than me. And sleeping
outside, under the starry sky, after late night discussions of the
most broad nature. And spending an hour a day "meditating" -- part of
the Intitutes ciriculum. No instruction other than sit silently and
see what happens.
When someone asked, "Maharishi, Is this IT?" -- and EVERYONE KNEW what
IT was (remember this was two months after the Summer of Love -- in
Berekely -- a nexus of the radical inner revolution of views and
perspectives going on at the time -- manifesting in a flourishing of
creative lifestyles and "trips" (trip meaning your life gig, your
path)). While the 2000 people in attendance may have given 2000
different definitions if IT, all definitions had a common thread and
everyone in their own heads KNEW what IT meant.
MMY said, quietly, confidently, definitively, "Yes, this is IT". Long
silence. The audience was soaking it in. I was sold. Perhaps in the
best and worst senses of the word. I sought IT so much and had spent
several ardent teen years among the inner revolution of the Bay Area
in 1965-67 SEEKING. I was ready for IT. The man promised IT. A leap of
faith, perhaps intuition, perhaps youthful enthusiasm, but I was sold.
All the pieces fell together that night at the BCT. But my naicient,
emerging critical faculties were put on hold a bit. A trajectory with
regards to TM that would continue and deepen over the years. With the
positive effect of becoming totally committed. With the negative
effect of well, being totally committed. Too long. Beyond the clues
everywhere that there were cracks in the cosmic egg. At least for me.
And my life.
And a few weeks later when I was initiated, I walked around my high
school (an interesting -- place in retrospect, though at the time a
bit boring -- i was banging on the walls to get out -- where several
girls had dated members of the Grateful Dead, a guy (student) used to
sit in at keyboard when PigPen didn't show up when the Dead rehearsed
at the heliport in nearby Sausalito, one guy's dad was Bobby Kennedy's
campaign manager, another girls dad was head of the US 9th circuit
court of appeals, one kids grandfather was a nobel prize winning
writer, another dad became a US senator a few yeas later) with the
biggest grin on my face -- I could not NOT smile. Wow. Maybe I
actually had stumbled upon IT. (While a good part of my my school was
tripping on acid -- during school hours. It made French class really
special).
I LOVED meditation. A vast new inner world of Silence. I could not
wait to wake up to do it. And come home to do it. And I starting
reading Science of Being. And a few months later the Gita when it was
published. Whew. So many new concepts. Absolute. Prana. Karma. Dharma.
Mind blowing. An analogy caught my attention: people seek happiness
like trying to quench thirst by licking morning dew drops in the
garden. ("Morning Dew" -- the grateful dead was even showing up in the
Science of Being -- Heavy!) When thre was an ocean of water to drink.
An image that would stay with me for years. Perhaps a parallel life
metaphor for me as "The mind is drawn to ever-increasing levels of
bliss." was to Unc.
And here is where my take on it all diverges fron Unc's, Not a better
view, not a view i am debating, just a different view. "The mind is
drawn to ever-increasing levels of bliss INWARDS." Inwards is the key
word in my mind. Inwards towards that inner Ocean of Bliss. Not
outwards dancing around licking the drops from the morning dew.
Years later when I heard Joseph Campbell and his theme of "follow your
bliss" -- I thought "nice phrase" and he is saying follow your dharma
- manifest your inner world. But I thought what he said might be
confused with the INNER bliss - which was different from the what
Campbell was talking about -- which in essence were the outer dew
drops of bliss.
Which are good things too. Especially when infused with the INNER
bliss. Playing in the morning dew is a great thing. But its play. To
me, its was the minor thing, swimming in the INNER ocean
was the major thing. And FUSING the two, creating aquaducts from the
inner ocean to the outer garden of morning dew drops -- that was the
REAL thing, the real challenge and life undertaking. Not to spend life
only licking those few dew drops in the garden.
My challenge became not to follow ones bliss, but rather to have bliss
follow me. Not that Bliss (Pure Consciousness) changes or follows.
Like the sun, it is constant. But ones inner reflector can change. The
task for me has been to allow the Sun to be reflected, creating the
dazzling intense, concentrated, bright from all angles, sunlight in a
hall of facing mirrors phenomenon everywhere, shining in every nook
and cranny of my life, 24/7. Inclding the (previously seen as) dark,
dismal, ugly and suffering part. Especially that part.
For me, then following ones bliss, chasing the dew drops, become
irrelevant. Parallel to Jim's recent post, for some time I have
secretly relished the hard parts of life to see if I can ride the
bliss wave through it. Follow ones Batan death march. Can I still
drink from the inner ocean when the morning dew in the garden is gone
and the garden has become a withered dump? Like the ashram at
Rishikesh. The Grateful Dead art I post today is a metaphor for that.
The world is dead, and yet the glee, the smiling skull shines through.
Kali dancing on my corpse (my outer world) as I AM that bliss. Some
seeds of Catharism perhaps.
And to complete the (parallell) story(ies). I moved too. 8 years ago.
Moved from paradise. Really. Paradise. I will spare the descriptions
but it knocks the socks off Uncs and Devang's recent paradises. :) I
still mourn a bit the death of that past life. Just to point out the
"dark" side of moving. Its GREAT when yuo get the rush of "on to new
vistas" jag, but that wears of after a while -- and eventually day to
day realities set in.
But I am in a new paradise. Few sane people would ever complain. But
there is that lingering -- I used to be able to ... But thats the
past. And the residue of chasing dew drops. For every drop of sweet
necter in the dew drops, there is an underbelly of bitter aftertaste.
I find I am happier when I rely on the inner ocean, not the outer dew
to quench my thirst. And when the bliss remains when the dew drops are
replaced by flying torrents of smelly shit (after hitting the
proverbial fan) then I know life is good. Shit happens. Bliss endures.
"Follow your Shit" i say, and "Hope the Bliss follows you".
--- In [email protected], TurquoiseB <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
>
>
> [ I wrote this yesterday night, but didn't post it
> at that time because it didn't seem to "fit" with
> the topics being discussed. It still doesn't, but
> here goes anyway. If Edg and Curtis can write about
> their everyday lives as if they were some kind of
> spiritual sadhana, I guess I can, too. - Unc ]
>
> "The mind is drawn to ever-increasing levels of bliss."
> Or something to that effect. That's what the man said.
>
> Those are the first words that Maharishi spoke that
> really *resonated* with me, all those years ago in the
> Greek Theater in Los Angeles, 1967. For me, a BTDT
> hippie searching for a saner path through life than
> psychedelics, those words really "caught the wave" of
> my life. At 21, I had *done* sex, drugs, and rock 'n
> roll, right on the front lines of all three war zones,
> and none of them (despite their undeniable charms)
> had taken me where they had promised. So I was in
> search of Something Else, another goal and path to
> focus on to inspire me to keep on keepin' on. And
> Maharishi just *nailed* it with that phrase.
>
> In retrospect, I suspect that even at the time, I
> "signed on" more to that phrase, and that lifestyle,
> than I "signed on" with Maharishi personally. But I
> followed the path suggested by that phrase, and him,
> and with heart, for fourteen years. And when the
> time came when ever-increasing levels of bliss were
> no longer found within the TM movement and with
> Maharishi, I followed the spirit of what he had
> said that day in the Greek Theater in Los Angeles,
> even though it drew me away from him.
>
> I followed the bliss, not the man who had told me
> about the bliss. And I thank him, in my way, for
> being the first person in my life to ever put the
> simple truth of "Follow your bliss" into words,
> by living the truth of those words in my own life.
>
> I have pretty much *always* followed my bliss. Damn
> making sense. Damn tradition. Damn career. Damn what
> anyone else thinks of the irrational decisions I am
> making. If the decisions lead me in the direction of
> greater bliss (in my *own* definition of bliss, that
> is, not anyone else's definition), then at this point
> I really don't see the percentage in *not* following
> the bliss.
>
> Doing so has worked out rather well for me for forty
> years now. I've had one phwam! of a life as a result
> of following Maharishi's advice about paying attention
> to that which seems to offer increasing levels of
> bliss.
>
> This is all relevant to me today because yesterday
> I signed a lease on an apartment in a beach town
> in Spain, and will be moving there in September.
> To do this I will be leaving One Of My Best Designs
> For Paradise So Far, in favor of another, hopefully
> a more evolved design.
>
> I mean, I live right now inside one of my fantasies
> from earlier in my life, in a tiny medieval village
> where the heretics I am interested in as a writer
> and as a spiritual seeker once trod. I live in an
> apartment built on the original 10th-century city
> walls in an apartment that costs me 450 Euros a
> month, and would continue to cost me that for the
> rest of my life. That is my agreement with the
> Crumbs, should I choose to stay *for* the rest of
> my days. That's quite an offer. The village is
> wonderful, the offer is wonderful, and the Crumbs
> are wonderful, and I'm moving to Spain anyway.
> Go figure.
>
> Following one's bliss is all about that ineffable
> quality of life that you can't put into words, try
> as you might. For me, making this decision, it's
> all about silence. How do you put *that* into words?
> I stand on the ramparts of Sauve tonight and I feel
> the level of silence here, and I marvel at its depth.
> And then I take a deep breath and remember the
> silence in Sitges...present in the most crowded
> chiringuito, in the noisiest nightclub street, or,
> moments later, in the deserted square in front of
> the 15th-century church, gazing out to sea, and
> there is just simply No Question about which level
> of silence draws me more.
>
> I've tried my best to fight it. I've taken this
> decision through all the sane, rational, intellectual
> hoops, and moving to Spain makes no sense at all. It's
> folly. But I'm moving anyway, and it's all about the
> silence.
>
> The apartment I'll be living in there is on one of
> the busiest streets in town, a block from the beach,
> and full of crowds at all hours of the day or night.
> But step inside the door and close it and miraculously,
> the noise of that world just Goes Away and opens into
> a pretty wonderful apartment. And then that apartment
> opens onto The Garden.
>
> It was The Garden that did it. It's immense, lovely,
> private, and with a level of silence in it that is
> astounding. I sit in The Garden, only steps away from
> the busiest street in a busy beach town, and samadhi
> just overtakes me. It overtook me in the real estate
> agent's office when I first saw it in a photograph of
> the property. The moment I saw that photograph, I knew
> I was a goner. Seeing the actual property was like an
> afterthought, a formality that I had to go through,
> even though the decision had been made. It was that
> sudden. Go figure.
>
> So, although it makes no sense at all, I'm walking
> away from the way cool situation in Sauve, my current
> paradise, and "trading up" to another way cool situation
> that beckons more strongly.
>
> It could be a real letdown. I might move there and
> realize I've made a terrible mistake. But I don't
> think that's going to happen, because the "follow
> your bliss" signs are all there. I liked the selves
> that danced across my Self when I was in Sitges,
> and I'd like to see more of them dancing. I look
> forward to many moonlight conversations in The
> Garden, under the Catalunya moon, with people
> I've met for the first time that day on the
> busy, Tantric streets of Sitges.
>
