Oren's Epiphany

Could it be that the distinctions of happiness and sadness, right and wrong, the just and unjust, the sacred and profane, are all merely illusions? Could it be that all things "good and bad" are just temporal reflections from a vast ground of unity, like fishes leaping from an eternal lake? This lake itself knows no distinctions. This lake is like the Garden of Eden before distinctions were made. What if these distinctions were resolved back into the equanimity from which they came? Then the current pains of the world would be only growing pains. Verily, all pains would be but growing pains.

2,500 years ago the sage Chuang Tzu, perhaps perched on a misty mountain top in picturesque Guangxi Provence, said everything that could ever be said:

"The knowledge of the ancients was perfect. How perfect? At first, they did not know that there were things. This is the most perfect knowledge; nothing can be added. Next, they knew there were things, but did not yet make distinctions. Next, they made distinctions, but did not yet pass judgments. When judgments were passed, Tao was destroyed."

Equanimity was the sword the patriarchs like Chuang Tzu used to get back to Tao. One who learns to see without distinctions and judgments will have eyes like comets and a mind with no boundaries. One's thoughts will be like flashes of lightening from the chasms of Eternity. Even one glimpse is enough.

In the late 1950s, on an Iroquois Indian reservation in upstate New York, a young Native American named Oren Lyons had such a glimpse. He became the first of the Iroquois to graduate from college, and when he returned to the reservation he was treated with reverence and respect by the others. Several weeks after he returned, one of the elders took him fishing on the lake. They were drifting underneath the rising morning sun, lazily watching their lines.

“You must be very proud of yourself," the elder said. "It’s really quite an achievement, the degree. You have learned about art, world history and philosophy -- things of the modern world about which the rest of us know very little. But tell me, Oren, do you know who you are?”

The young man was smart and he knew some in the reservation thought he had lost touch with his roots.

“Well of course I know who I am. I am Oren Lyons of the Iroquois people. I will never forget where I came from!”

“Oh, that’s nice to hear, Oren. But that’s not who you really are. Tell me now, who are you really, behind the name and beyond the skin?”

The young man paused. He wasn't sure which answer the elder wanted to hear. The only way to answer such a question is to use the whole of one's being.

“Well, I suppose I am really just a material body, illumined by the Great Sprit.”

“No, no! You still don’t get it. The highest teachings of these universities teach many great things, but in the end they are just illusions of magicians, for they don’t teach you who you really are.

“You see that pine tree on the bank of the lake there, Oren? You are that pine tree ... You see that eagle circling in the wind? You are that eagle ... You see the day break star casting an orange hue on the horizon, and the blue sky that stretches like a dome above us? You are that horizon and sky.”

When the elder finished speaking, the young man sat in silence staring into the changing morning sky. The sky was staring back at him, and he didn't know whom was staring at whom.

You are not one with everything at the level of form necessarily, but at the level of consciousness. That is the mystical revelation. Remember that magnificent quote from Meister Eckhart?

“That love with which I love God, is the same love with which God loves me.”

So also, that power with which the "Great Spirit" is manifesting the world is the same power with which you are manifesting your life. They are one and the same. The consciousness of Mother Earth is your own. The skies are your lungs and the rivers are your veins. The origin of the wind and fire is your own origin, and if you don't realize this you will run with the wind, burn with the fire and perish with the body. Even if you do realize this, you will not become omnipotent and almighty -- you will not be able to move mountains with your fingertips! You may, however, connect with that energy which moves through all things. That is sufficient enough.

One who sees himself as everything
Is fit to be guardian of the world.
One who loves himself as everyone
Is fit to be teacher of the world.
-- from the Tao Te Ching

Sour Dough & Wine

A young lady pushing a stroller entered the train and sat down beside me. Her baby had cerulean blue eyes, alert and innocent. By contrast, the mother’s sad brown eyes betrayed her own smile, which seemed defeated, as though it were held up from her pride rather than her heart. I uttered the obligatory: "How're ya doing?"

I got the obligatory response: "I'm OK."

But "OK" wasn't good enough for me today. Today was a day of unconquerable optimism. It was a day of, as Henry Miller would say, turning sour dough into bread, and bread into wine and wine into song!

"Just OK?" I asked, slightly understatedly.

She answered: "Oh, I never believe people when they say they are 'great.' I can never answer 'great' or 'very well' because it just wouldn't be honest. I'm just OK, la."

"Well what's keeping you from saying great?" I asked.

"Well, for starters, working too many hours at a job I don't like and am underpaid at. That's for starters." I could see that I hit the right button. I was about to say something, but she was already off and running like a rocket that not even NASA could stop. The government was racist. The streets were dangerous. The school system was inept. It was a machine gun full of problems and the bullets were aimed at my head.

"Can I tell you a quick story?" I interjected.

"Why? Does my sob story bore you?"

"No, just listen." I was finally able to ease her finger off the trigger.

“Once there was a famous thief who came to see a great Yogi deep in the Himalayas. The thief had begun to feel guilt over his crimes, but he still had an ego as high and wide as Everest. When he reached the Yogi's abode, he asked: ‘Is there a heaven, where honest men go? Is there a hell, full of thieves and liars like me?’

‘Who are you?’ the Yogi asked.

‘I am the greatest thief alive!’ boasted the thief.

‘You, a great thief? I think not. You look like a beggar to me!’ the Yogi mocked.

The thief’s quick temper seized him. He became so angry, he drew his dagger and was about to thrust it at the Yogi.

‘Is that your dagger? You probably could not even skin a potato with that!’ the Yogi taunted.

The thief became enraged and swung the dagger at the Yogi's throat. The Yogi tilted his head back, exposing his throat, and shouted: ‘Now open the gates of hell!!!’

In that instant, the thief held back and dropped the dagger. He was so astounded by the master's fearlessness, that he bowed and touched his feet.

‘Now open the gates of heaven,’ said the Yogi.”

"Nice story. But what's the point?" she asked me.

"The Yogi answered the thief’s question. All the realms of heaven and hell, the whole pantheon of gods, they all exist inside. Emotionally speaking, you create your own heaven and hell," I said.

"Yeah, sure. But I’m not a thief. What's that got to do with me?" she asked.

"The Yogi wasn't talking to the thief, he was talking to you. This is practical human psychology. In other words, the perception you have of the world depends on the perception you have of yourself. A lawyer looks at others as potential clients, a doctor looks at them as potential patients, a Yoga instructor as potential students! This is a demanding way to live, full of expectations on others and the world. When we depend on others for security and happiness there is no freedom in that.

"The Native Americans say that there are two wolves in every heart. One is freedom, the other is fear,” I added.

“So, which one wins out?" she asked.

"The one you feed more," I answered.

“Yeah well, sometimes you have to eat bitter before you taste sweet, isn‘t it?” she quoted the Chinese proverb.

When we arrived at the next stop, she got up and exited the train. Some days you cannot turn sour dough into wine!