Dialogues with Mystery 11

You have been shown the beginning. Satisfaction isn't the end end of desire, and even if it were, there isn't enough of what we desire for everybody to get enough. You've begun to grieve the massive loss of self, to admit you're powerless. You've been shown the end. Rabbouni has shown you that plain things like bread and prayer and weeping can be celebrations. Because of it, you can see all those around you who are in desperate need of rejoicing.  You have begun to find the others. 

 Somehow that fell short of real serenity. [bxA]  You racked your brain for solutions. It yielded much. You heard things like "Acceptance asks further questions. Can you act compassionately in the face of lack of control? Can you, because you face the same limitations as others, live unconditionally?" As true as it may have been, that wisdom, too, provided no rest.

And then it was clear. Ego still has a handhold because you've not yet begun to grieve what an inadequate medicine Wisdom is for what lacks materially. In the beginning, you'd seen the flaw: you'd created ego as a balm for the vulnerability of existence. You admitted it was a problem but you didn't change the maneuver: you continued, and are still using mental abstraction as a solution for reality's perceived shortcomings.

Reality is whole. You're the one who's fragmented. But I don't want to leave you with the problem, and no "order of operations" with which to find the answer. I don't want to state the destination, and give you no sense of how to work with where you are.

The body is a tool.  Compulsion by emotion comes with different sensations than impulsion by the Spirit.  Compulsion feels riskier--it has bought into permanence, and fears the total loss of self.  And that fear creates a tightness in the chest, a gut tied into knots, an energy blockage we're apt to call anxiety.  Impulsion is just using the gift of sensation to follow subtler and subtler energy.  Impulsion allows for times of totally identifying with the ego, and the times of transcending it.  It allows for all emotions and all thoughts, for emptiness and fullness.

The Gospel is more like the Tao than it is the full throated advertisement of miracles on the lips of a  newspaper vendor.  It is a flow of the universe, and all manifest beings find their serenity by relaxing back into it.  The Spirit is more like a vibration than it is a lightening strike.  You're used to deploying willfulness to get through life, but that's too forceful.  You'll miss all the cues.  Don't pay attention, either.  That's too transactional--nothing will grab you that hard. If you sit back--if you're willing--and just watch the universe, there will be subtler things you're asked to see.  

But for now, just be.  You're learning to cooperate with the way things are, but you've been through a tremendous amount.  Eat when you want to eat, cry when you want to cry, find empathetic people to spend time with.  Nap. Laugh. Breathe.

Dialogues with Mystery 10

We are in a hard spot together, you and I. Rabbouni died. Your grief over losing him--well, that's the easiest part. As you grieve he will descend into your self-made hells, rise again, then ascend. When that happens--and it will happen inside you--you'll no longer see him. Don't worry, this is how grief goes. You're not supposed to be able to see the one who has chosen to see the world through your eyes. True, no one told you that internalizing Jesus would involve grief. If they had, it wouldn't have made that measure of loss any more bearable. [bxA]

On top of that, there's a oneness of life, and serenity demands it be respected: the hard part's that seeing Rabbouni's death increases conscious of your own. You've lost a great deal. I know that you're numb to begin with, and that mourning the loss of your self on top of it all feels like too much to ask. But here we are: this is the work. To busy yourself internally or get demanding will only increase your suffering: keep your attention on the task of the moment. Namely, give up ego, grieve, and be honest. I'm in the painful, unpleasant business of expanding your heart, but if you're willing to listen, I'm also here to talk you through it. It's totally safe to feel everything you feel, and it's totally safe to let it go.

First, don't be surprised if you find fault with everyone and everything. When you're called to give up preference, accommodating others preferences will seem tyrannical.  You will realize, in one moment, that you need to give up judging, and in the next you'll spend emotional energy hating someone's wardrobe choices.  When it hits, the truth of it will physically hurt.  And all you've got to do is witness it.  Remember the prophet "they will look upon him whom they have pierced."  See that it was written about no one but you.

To incarnate in the first place is to be nailed with Rabbouni to a cross--and if you can't move from it physically, the afflictive emotions of ego (blame, shame, remorse and resentment) will present themselves as a last-resort method of mentally fleeing your pain. I want to encourage you to thoroughly experiment with all of it. The comforts of that kind of mental abstraction are real--you'll be absolutely right about everything you blame people for.  The present moment will eventually feel too small for "being right" and "decreasing suffering" to live together.  In the end, you'll have to choose between them.  You can do everything right, and still lose. What no one tells you is: shame, blame, resentment and remorse take a toll. They create all kinds of anxiety.  And they'll make things like entitlement and craving and desire for control infinitely worse than they already are. The sad fact of desire is that there's not enough satisfaction to go around. If, on the other hand, you decide that being right all the time or being satisfied all the time isn't worth suffering through the attachments, then you and I can endure this together.

This incarnation is a high stakes game, and there are rules. Everyone's at least a little bit at fault for the web of suffering. The reach of awakening transcends each conscious soul, but that's also true of toxic denial. Maybe you're finally facing "what you did to deserve suffering" after lifetimes of evasion. Maybe you actively agreed to endure more than your share--for the good of others--then promptly forgot the whole thing in the "amnesia of becoming."  For one reason or another, it's terrifically overwhelming, and not comfortable in the least.

Make no mistake: you are being called to account. There's no reason to be afraid of this. "Sinfulness" will be only one layer of it. Underneath morality, though, the question will persist: in a climate of great pain and suffering, did you make it better or worse? When the question of existence had no logical answer, were you able to stay silent, to just watch and feel your way through it, or did you busy yourself grasping at the balm of wisdom? Love is going inside-- it's completely still and utterly silent. Only the silent and the still will see it plainly.

Grief will change a number of your emotions. You'll see that a great deal of the feeling of excitement comes from being drawn to the chaos you create. When you decide that's a real problem, you'll stop being "moved" by things. Sunsets will lose their draw. Beautiful people will age terribly. Maybe, so will you. They call the impermanence of things "the way of all the earth" for a reason. No one is off the hook.

You will remember that Rabbouni told you about this ahead of time. He sang the praises of the shifty and the the shrewd in stories about dishonest servants. Remember? They cooked the books, got caught, then forgave people's debt to widen their options. Rabbouni said not to worry, that your debt has been forgiven, and that it'll only get difficult if you don't do the same for others.This incarnation, he knew, is an experiment. The God who made us all is seeing if we can deal prudently with dishonest gain.  We will know who will give us what is our own after we're done making good choices about what belongs to another.

Ride the tide of blame and resentment until you can't afford the toll it takes in anxiety. Exploit entitlement, craving and attachment until you can't hack the isolation they produce anymore. Even those fruitless maneuvers have a teaching that can be used compassionately in different situations. Remember Gautama Buddha's early lifetimes, when living in a hell realm; he began to awaken after showing compassion to someone else who suffered with him. Remember Jesus who consoled thieves from the cross. You are getting all the lessons. You're simply getting them in packaging that's not pleasant. That way you won't get clingy again.

Where life ceases to compel a response, you'll have an opportunity. As holy writ says "offer to God the things that are within, and behold, all will be made clean for you." In another place, we read "let whoever has a willing heart bring the Lord's offering." Acting with compassion, perhaps after lifetimes of selfishness, will pay dividends in serenity. Sages say "you don't know until you know" and that's very much the case with a grieving process that's found acceptance, with a life that's free from attachment.

After lifetimes of clinging to things that made him suffer, the buddha sat under the bodhi tree.  The man with the legion of demons had been cutting himself with rocks, but after encountering Christ, he found the silence of his right mind.  Before Jesus fessed up to not wanting to die, he took bread and made poverty and grief a communal celebration.  Our job is to sit still, to look straight at the fullness of life when he approaches, and then to find the others.  

Suffering is just pain we haven't accepted yet. On the way there, Jesus threw tantrums and flipped tables.  Our anger will soften just as his did.  Jesus admitted not wanting to suffer. If anyone tells you the resurrection was the only miracle in the passion, don't believe them.  Acceptance is a miracle too.  When our own pain becomes an empty room, maybe we'll know the space Jesus was in when he said "Not As I will, but as you will."  Being asked to willingly lose a losing game is a tall order, and it's hard to know what to do with it.  For his part, Jesus wept. You and I, and all the earth--it's best if we go and do likewise.