“If the doors of perception were cleansed
every thing would appear to
man as it is, Infinite.
For man has closed himself up,
till he sees all
things thro' narrow chinks of his cavern.”
―
William Blake,
The Marriage of Heaven and Hell
“Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a
blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child
-- our own two eyes. All is a miracle.”
―
Thich Nhat Hanh
I've been a Geek all my life. As a kid, I was curious. Extremely curious. I was fascinated by the critters, trees, flowers, rocks, winds, clouds, the moon, the stars. I wanted to know the names of everything.
I wanted to understand it all.
I loved the hands-on
exploration of science and technology, too. I wanted to know how it all worked.
Whenever the opportunity presented itself, I took things apart to see how each part related to each other part. I wanted to know how something did what it did.
In elementary
school, I found a discarded box camera in the alley, scurried home, and promptly took it apart. I then wondered why the world looked upside down as I gazed through one of the lens. So, I grabbed my science textbook and skipped ahead to the chapter on light. Soon, I had figured out how to use two of the newly freed lenses, some cardboard and scotch tape to make a telescope. Then, each evening, I charted the position of Jupiter as it moved through the sky outside my bedroom window -- until another interest took center stage. (I think it was baseball.)
Thankfully, I was usually acknowledged by various adults in my world for my zeal to learn.
Yet,
like many of us, my earliest perceptions of the spiritual dimension of
life were not supported. Instead, they were consistently ignored, dismissed -- or
squashed. In a society that mostly doesn't believe in the existence of a subtle realm of unseen, formless entities and energies, it seemed clear that my parents, foster parents, social workers, and teachers didn't seem to have a clue.
I suppose that should come as no surprise.
The dominant culture in the western world has been immersed for centuries in a worldview increasingly shaped by capitalism and scientific materialism. What has been presented as spirituality has been saturated with
a distorted, often white supremacist, highly judgmental, dogmatic form of Christianity, relegated to horror stories about unseen malevolent spirits, or dismissed as mere superstition.
The way most folks view and experience their lives has been shaped in the cauldron of these cultural forces.
Scientific materialism denied the existence of a spiritual dimension of life. Capitalism presented the world as a competition among separate individuals over limited resources. And, rather than support an exploration of the spiritual dimension that exists in the midst of each moment, Christianity taught that the primary spiritual goal was an eternal life in a Heaven that existed only for those who have died. Furthermore, entering Heaven demanded conformity to a specific set of beliefs -- and obedience to an authoritarian power structure that enforced a restrictive set of rules, sometimes violently. (I attended Catholic school for five days before I bailed.)
Even worse, perhaps, Christian Heaven was presented as an exclusive club -- reserved for members only. According to
the prevailing doctrine, the rest of humanity was doomed to spend an eternity in a cruel torture chamber called hell. For some Christians this horrible fate included Christians from other denominations!
WTF?
As a kid, this version of a God of Love never made sense to me. Yet, my heart was drawn to something. I was drawn to something in early childhood at Passover Sedar as I gazed at the empty chair set for Elijah. A few years later, after my mother had converted to Catholicism, I felt something at the first Mass I attended. Then, as the chaos of my childhood years continued, I felt something at the chapel services of the Baptist children's home and summer camp my younger siblings and I lived in.
Yet, there was an energy embedded in the belly of the Christianity I experienced in those settings that rang tilt. The fire and brimstone Fall and Redemption focus of the gatherings didn't reflect the Love that I read that Jesus was teaching. In fact, I came to think
that Jesus would still be turning over in his grave at such blasphemous bullshit -- if only he had stayed there.
Beyond Belief
Now, at
age 78, I'm still a Geek. For more than half a century, I've focused a
lot of time and attention on the exploration of the spiritual dimension
of life. Over the years this exploration of spirituality has included decades of meditation, time in residence at several spiritual communities and handfuls of intensive retreats with a number of teachers.
I also continue to pour through volumes of the spiritual literature, humanistic psychology, philosophy, neuroscience and modern physics. I've got stacks of books in various stages of reading, re-reading, and research notes strewn around my apartment. When my eyes tire, the internet delivers dharma talks, interviews and discussions.
Perhaps, most importantly I've sustained a personal daily meditation practice for decades, and now meet with a small circle of kindred spirits for meditation and support every weekday morning on Zoom.
In doing so, I continue to make a committed effort to cleanse the doors of perception.
I'm grateful to be able to say that I get at least a little taste of the open, spacious, miraculous
nature of life most every day -- on and off the zafu. When I remember to come into the present moment
with an open heart and a clear mind, I am aware of an infinitely expansive dimension of being. From what I've seen, it's clear, luminous, benevolent Presence embraces all that is, ever
has been -- and could possibly ever be. In the vast expanse of open awareness, Reality asserts itself
-- and it glows. It's beyond belief.
Contrary to what some folks say, you don't have to die to go to Heaven. The Sacred exists right here in our midst.
Although I didn't have a way to express it, I sensed this as a kid. (You probably did, too!)