I am.

Initially it all seemed rather mystical and mysterious. Especially coming to it with no experience, having spent minimal time with biblical and spiritual ‘scripture’, either ancient or contemporary.  And now, while less mystical and mysterious, and far more somatically visceral, I am still learning and choosing the language to describe my experience and knowledge.  

I offer an example from early on the process:

Student: “I’m hateful and underserving.”

Teacher: “Where are your hands?”

Student: “Why, they are stroking your face.”

Teacher: “This is not the act of someone who is incapable of loving. This is not the movement of someone who is hateful and undeserving.”  

In this simple instant, the student gained knowledge of himself previously unrecognized.  Known is his tremendous capacity for love that is part of the complexity of the iceberg that lays in darkness below the surface.  He can feel this and once embodied, he can’t unlearn it.  And yes, there is this uncomfortable ‘undertone’ period.  I don’t want to call it ‘transition’ because that makes it sound like the objective of this work to reach a destination of blissful permanence instead of a path to oneself. Nonetheless, it is a time where it’s all very confusing and in order to progress the student must gradually acknowledge the fallacy in how he had been living. This is the most painful aspect of this spiritual development. At this point it was as if he entered an infancy stage, wanting to throw the toys out of the pram as he screeched at his teacher, “You makes it look so easy!”

There is more self-knowledge to be had, always. As this is gained, and because the teacher is assisting with this, along the way there is a temptation to put the teacher on a pedestal. Guru. Saint. Savior. The teacher consistently reminds him he is on a similar journey.

The student reads voraciously: Martin Buber, Papaji, Adyashanti, Gangaji, Abraham Heschel, Gabor Mate, Ram Dass, the Ketuvim, Ramana Maharshi, Nisargadatta Maharaj, Maimonides. Initially he does this because he is still, at some level, looking for the mystical formula to fix, the path to bliss. Eventually he realizes these ancient and contemporary “scriptures” are simply another invitation to meet himself.

His teacher hosts gatherings of lovely human beings, a satsang spiritual salon of sorts, which further his reflection and knowing and fuel his curiosity.  He begins to realize he no longer lives from the surface alone. Over time, he feels the body between his arms, between his shoulders, the body that fills his chest, the body that is supported by strong cycling legs, it is as if he can feel himself lurching this body forward, connected as one with that around him, in open stance, questioning, “How can I bring love here?” “Can we laugh here?” “How do we move together and dance here?”

Is he awake? Enlightened? I dunno.  Certainly something is profoundly different in his experience of himself and his experience of emotion. Whether sadness or elation, it is welcome. He often experiences a sense of oneness with this surroundings. While he experiences this in an embodied sense, he often remains in awe.

It has been some time since he has greeted his teacher in person, but he recalls that when he does, he takes on the physical embodiment of his own grandfather as he cups his teacher’s face in his hands, kisses his beard in an effort to say, “Do you know how much you are loved? Do you truly get what you have shown me? Again, no pedestal, just deep gratitude and love emanating from the life that I am.”