picking up a poisonous snake by the wrong end."
― Pema Chödrön
|Mahakala: Wrathful Protector of Tibetan Buddhism|
"Damn!" I thought. The stark horror in his voice didn't incline me to want to do any such thing.
Unlike Jimi, at that point I had not spend much time with the Teachers and Teachings of the Tibetan tradition where the term the Void (or Great Void) were commonly bandied about. Although I'd read a couple of translations of the Tibetan Book of the Dead, my wanderings through the Yankee Buddhist world of the 70's and 80's had primarily been focused on Zen.
Like Jimi, though, I was then drawn to practice with the folks at IMS, who drew their inspiration and practice from teachers in the Theravadan tradition. There, Nirvana seemed to be a more palatable ultimate destination.
Little did I know.
The term shunyata, most commonly translated as "emptiness" or "voidness" seems to freak a lot of folks out. It doesn't seem like a particularly appealing final resting place.
At age 74, having continued to peer into this particular diamond from every direction imaginable, it's become quite clear to me that the teachings regarding shunyata, expressed through the teachings of Pema Chodron and others -- and another 25 years of taking time to sit still doing nothing on the zafu for at least an hour most every day -- have been gently and inexorably transforming me. More and more, these teachings have grown from mere theory into an ongoing Practice.
In a recent on-line course, Pema Chodron used the term "positive groundlessness" to try to capture in words what the actual heart of shunyata may be. At the time she said she wasn't convinced she'd continue to use that term, she was just "trying it out." That, in itself, is a great teaching. It seems clear to me that what is, is beyond words.
As it is, the term "positive groundlessness" works for me just fine these days. I often find a sense of wonder and great joy as I relax, more and more, into the exquisite free fall that constitutes Life as it is.
I can't be holding onto anything at that point. I have to remain empty handed. This is the Strait Gate that Yogi Jesus alluded to toward the end of the Sermon on the Mount -- after he pointed out the various ego trips that we all are prone to manifesting ad infinitum.
Of course experiencing that is easier said than done.
Most of us are conditioned quite strongly to be self-absorbed in doing most anything except stopping to truly let go of everything (especially the thoughts going through our head), to be present to our ongoing experience. Although many of us may have had a few glimpses, it seems to takes a serious commitment and some effort extended over a period of time to finally realize that this is It. At a certain point, shazamm. You know that you don't have to die to go to heaven. This is it.
At a certain point, you see for yourself that all the stuff that Buddha and Jesus and Lao-tse and a host of others have been talking about, even been willing to die for, is True. Life is a sacred miracle. We are inseparable from infinity, constantly in the embrace of the One Love -- whether we realize it or not.
At a certain point, we find that in order to actually open to the experience of Absolute Being, we have to open to Absolute Non-Being as well. We also find that we can't grasp onto either of these concepts, because neither of them can describe what is really going on here. The Ineffable Mystery, simultaneously splits the difference and mends it. In actuality, the Truth of the Matter, what Buddha called the Middle Way, is beyond words.
Yet, like the Bee Gees once proclaimed: "It's only words and words are all I have, " -- at least that is the case as I sit here at the keyboard. Although it's always difficult to express something about a reality that flows through infinite dimensions in simple two dimensional terms, here's my humble effort:
What Is and What Is Not are not two. They are the warp and weft of the Sacred Tapestry that we are collectively weaving in every moment. You can't have One without the Other.
The more we melt away the hard-headed clinging to strong opinions about what we think is true at any one moment, the more we melt away the hardness of heart that we've developed in a misguided attempt to protect ourselves from working with Life as it is, the easier it gets to appreciate the inherent joy and wonder that is ringing silently in the midst of each moment.
Of course, it is true that the thought of non-being itself can be scary as hell. The thought of our inevitable demise -- Death -- is only one aspect of this seemingly frightful proposition. In our bipolar quest to be both free and secure, the idea that there is really nothing lasting and permanent to hold on, doesn't sit easily -- unless we take time to Sit with It.
Our whole ego dance is based on the impossible task of trying to shore ourselves up against the ongoing uncertainty that Life presents as part of the fabric of each moment. In a fitful (and primarily subconscious) attempt to prove ourselves to be real, an essentially independent entity of some sort, we have amassed a whole litany of thoughts, feelings and behaviors that, ultimately, will never provide either the freedom or the security we are grasping for.
This operates on every level imaginable.
We grasp at material objects, sensual comfort and pleasure, approval and appreciation, status, reputation, being right, wielding power. Then, we can make matters even worse. As Pema Chodron's teacher Chogyam Trungpa repeatedly pointed out, we even grasp onto Spiritual Practice as a means to secure a foothold in the endlessly shifting sands of time and space.
The rock that we pick up to throw (not to mention the rocks in our heads), are no more than swirls of energy that we have learned to perceive in a certain way. We pretty much believe that "seeing is believing" when, in actuality, it is clear that the opposite is just as true. Even at the level of our conditioned perceptions, we are constantly creating and grasping the "image" of solidity to hold onto where no such solidity fundamentally exists.
All this grasping and clinging is totally understandable, of course. It's all part of the human condition. And growing up as we have in a patently materialistic society, with few, if any, role models for Practice, we are quite fortunate to come across these Teachings at all. To actually come to embrace the ideas and adopt the practices that help cultivate the ability to navigate what Pema Chodron calls the "fundamental ambiguity of being a human being" is a rare and precious gift. Being able to really dig it is icing on the cake.
I am so grateful to the Teachers and Teachings that moved me to walk this path -- and actually Sit still long enough over a period of time to get a sense of what Alan Watts called the Wisdom of Insecurity. I've always been sort of an insecure wise guy anyhow -- and now it's a lot more fun.
It just takes Practice.
In fact, at this point, I know that it will take what the Zennies call Ceaseless Practice, because I am mostly conditioned to be a real bozo. But, after all these years I have come to trust that my heart is in the right place. In my heart of hearts, I know that I'm here to try to help out. As I continue to open my heart and clear my mind in this effort, the One Love will continue to have my back as I dance and stumble ahead toward my final curtain call. (It would be nice to go out with a bow, no?)
The Last Laugh?
I don't know where my old Dharmabum Buddhy Jimi is these days, and of course, my memory of that interaction may include a lot of projection about the "horror" he had experienced in encountering what he perceived as the Great Void. (Maybe Mahakala was whispering in his ear at the time?)
Yet, if I meet my old friend again in some dimension of time and space to somehow recreate that scene, my imagined response would be to grin and proclaim.
"No sweat man. The Void is Full of It!"