Walking Alone

This is chapter 5. Click here to start from the first chapter.

The best things that I have discovered in books about mystical awakening served only as an echo and a reflection for that blazing explosion of insight. The words served only a small purpose – they were simply a reminder. No expression of truth can ever compare to the silent, direct encounter with pure truth, in clear consciousness. 

That which already exists, before we wiseacre about it, so utterly transcends anything we could possibly say, write, explain or draw in a picture. The encounter with pure love is not possible to describe in a book, and it is impossible to read that knowing out of a book, and then transfer it directly into reality. We can only sense it, and call upon its reality from within our own center.

From reading just a few paragraphs of any given book, I could tell whether the author was speaking from experience, or simply regurgitating someone else’s truth. I could “smell” the authenticity. Scientific papers and philosophical ramblings have become wearisome for me now, but the words of the mystics have become like food and water. Some mystics, like Kabir, Ramana Maharshi, and William Blake, are like golden honey to me. They speak the poetry of the beyond. In them, I found a pure sound, a clear echo, but I never found a teacher. I walked alone.

For example, consider the words of George Gurdjieff: “Change of knowledge comes from change of being. Knowledge in itself is nothing.” 

During the awakening, there was far too much information to download all at once, rationally. In fact, it was not exactly information at all. It was a quality of seeing, rather than a detailed describing, cataloguing and quantifying of what was seen. It was a glimpse of the endless. Knowing stretched off into corridors without beginning or end. 

This direct knowing was to touch a cosmic kind of mind, like a small child touching a mystery of great complexity. I felt as if I had stumbled upon a dimension where all thoughts are instantly available, whereas before I was using an apparatus designed for limits and relative facts. I had come home, and realized my vastness. I had reconnected with eternity, at the center of life itself.

I realized that through the process of education, and through my life, I had become so deeply enmeshed, so identified with my thoughts that wisdom had become unavailable. To know the truth one has to surrender mind. One has to encounter being, and become the knowing.

I could see that all my life I had been divided, inwardly. Now there was unification, and this unification brought the knowing. Things like morality, self-worth, the place of self and other, the afterlife, life’s meaning and the nature of love became a knowing, rather than a mechanical repetition of facts and theories from books. It was no longer speculation, or the attempt to digest faith. It was unmistakable, and lived, and therefore real. 

One of my very first insights was into the truth in religions and philosophies. I realized, with childlike simplicity, that they are all right. Each one is true, in a very limited sense. Each one is completely wrong too, and there was no conflict in that for me. It was so obvious – the words, the ceremonies, the traditions, the songs, the way of worship – are all relative and limited. That to which they point is universal. 

It was impossible to make it ‘my own,’ all in an instant. It was nothing like reading a book. It was not like finishing a book, and then writing a review or a synopsis. No, this was knowledge of a different order, and it feels like I have been unwrapping this gorgeous gift for many years now, always surprised and delighted by a new reminder, a new reflection, a fresh glimpse of a new depth. 

It seems almost as if it only becomes clear to me now when I try to share it with another being; yet it is a paradox of simplicity, always here in my center.

The central-point remains simple, wordless. It remains vast as the night sky, unaffected by my puny voice, untroubled by my belief in its reality, or my non-believing. How could it possibly judge my little thoughts and beliefs? 

The books I have enjoyed most are the more honest, the least theoretical, and these books sometimes approach the center. They have a fragrance of the real between their pages. Sometimes other books, though valuable in their own way, remain far from that center, expounding endless theories and imaginings. 

The heart knows better. It is all so exquisitely simple, so real, so deeply buried that words can never dig deep enough. Yet the central point is right here in the open.  It is me, as I wonder in All. It is just this, and this is not the same for one single moment, and this never changes.  

To see this, one has to let go of the mind, and look, with sincere intensity at what really is. Find the center point of “me” – and I am there.

We keep on missing it in life, because it is so intimate. It is so close to us, that we cannot see it. This truth is the place from which we are looking, searching, weighing, believing, or disbelieving. It is already here, before we encounter it in the words, the people, the teachers, the traditions. It is that which is searching for the truth, that which finds the truth, and that which laughs at the whole idea of seeking, forgetting, remembering or finding.

In the last few years, with a mushrooming global awakening energy, the range of information available has become so large that I can’t hope to digest all of it in what is left of this lifetime. At the same time, it feels as if everyone is saying exactly the same thing, with varying degrees of clarity, so it makes no difference at all. 

I have no worries about any of that, because even after only a year or two, I became quite sick of reading about it, and switched over to writing about it, or playing guitar, juggling, creating poems, drawing squiggles and vines, or dancing tai chi, or walking, or simply breathing about it instead. 

Then I would feel hungry again, and devour more books and articles, more stories and in more recent times, interviews on podcasts. Most of that was junk food. Some of it was a hearty meal, and one or two books have become like little treasures. So it has continued, and probably will continue. Who knows? I think the surprise is the thing. Our river is so enchanting, so surprising, and so fresh. 

At one point, about two years ago, after hermitting for most of these years, quietly ghostwriting about this subject, I began to feel a friendly urge to find other people who might understand me. That is when I began to discover the scope of the world’s awakening, which is happening right now. I feel that this piece is now long overdue. Then again, perhaps the timing is perfect, since the universe has ways of managing these sorts of things.

Life has never returned to ‘normal,’ at least, not inwardly. Outwardly, nothing much changed at all. 

My new ‘normal’ is nowhere close to that ecstatic afternoon. There is no longer the same accumulation of tension here, and so there can be no comparable explosion of relief – and that was a big part of the emotional energy shift on that day. It was such a relief! Like holding a spiritual pee for a century, and then finally – ahhh. 

My new normal can best be described as an abiding peacefulness, sprinkled by moments of great joy and wonder, interspersed with other moments that range through all the regular human emotions. There are dull times, there are grey times, there are bright times. I love them all. The difference is that nothing clings here anymore. All are burned in the permanent fire of awareness. 

No anger finds a foothold for long. No regret worms its way back into the core of me. No pain – and there is pain – but none of it becomes suffering anymore. No ideas grab my mind for long, not even the wonderful ideas, or the deeply terrifying ones. There is little frustration left, though I can still sense it in there, deep down somewhere. This too shall pass. I’m in no hurry anymore. I have nowhere to be. Where on this earth would I go? When could I possibly get there? I can only laugh at the idea.

I still have to pay the rent, I still have chores, there are still people all over the world who behave in mean, terrible and unconscious ways. There is still mindless TV, the vapid content on the internet, and hate and anger and sickness too. The traffic still gets snarled up, the world mind is still neurotic, and there is still the constant barrage of adverts for meaningless crap, lies upon lies upon lies, and there are still news outlets fearmongering people into sleepless worry – oh yes, of course, all of it still sucks, just as it did before. I find it amazing that people can engage in such insanity, and take themselves so seriously while doing so. I think that is beautiful too, and it might well be important, somehow, and this too shall pass. 

My ‘drive’ has all but evaporated. I seldom plan for the future. I find the company of birds, animals, streams, trees and small children the most wholesome. I don’t mind people, they once again fascinate me, and I am far more inclined to help out than to sit by and criticize. All of this happened naturally, organically, and quickly – more or less. Some parts are taking longer than other parts. So be it. Perhaps it will never end – and of course, it will not. If anything, we go back to square one, forgetting the whole journey again. Our river makes sense, doesn’t it?

I avoid self-improvement, for there is clearly nothing I can possibly add to all this perfect wonder, all around me, and within me, all the time. I might dabble with some poetry. I might write up a piece like this – why not? It’s fun. My life has improved tremendously through following what I love, and what feels good in the body. The neurotic controller is muzzled, most of the time.

I have had much time to ponder what it all means. I started to somehow engineer my life differently, deliberately, so that I would have the time to ponder. I reclaimed the time of my life as mine. That required many things that would seem like big sacrifices, and it was well worth it. Simultaneously, life has conspired to lend a hand, or point out new directions, or thwart my efforts. There is no longer a bloody struggle between me and the events of my life, for they are one. It’s no longer David versus Goliath. It’s more like the love dance of Radha and Krishna. 

Words and phrases that come close to naming this awakening experience include: Samadhi, bodhi, mystical experience, satori, sudden spontaneous awakening, transcendence, no-mind, kundalini rising (awakening), religious experience, turia, nirvikalpa, the fourth state, the peace of god that transcends all thought – and quite a few more phrases from different contextual frameworks besides these. Please remember, these are just words – empty in themselves. 

After some digging, I discovered that my experience, unbelievable as it seemed to me, was not a brand new thing. (How could I not have known this? How can anyone not know this?) On the day that it happened to me, I simply had no context for it. That may have been a great blessing. I would certainly have botched the whole thing had I tried to engineer it. Fortunately, it out-engineered me. 

At the time, I had no way to understand what was happening, I had never heard of spiritual awakening in that sense, I had never explored meditation, or anything of the sort; but it felt so wonderful that I simply didn’t care to name it, that first eighteen months, and so I just allowed it to take its course. 

The whole thing felt very natural and wholesome, and I had no fear whatsoever. I knew enough about psychology to understand that this was not a break from reality or a schizoid episode, though my family may have thought differently at times. Thankfully, I never spoke to a professional in the mental health care system! I had studied psychology for a year, and had read widely on the subject, and knew better than to go that route. In fact, my friends, family and my partner were oblivious to what was going on inside of me. Of course they were – for how can anyone find a frame of reference for the unknown? How can anyone truly know the mind of another, especially if they have not explored the self?

At one point, I sold all my belongings and went walking. I ended up strolling for months, 1,000 km down the coast, on a partly mangled leg (from a crippling car accident in 1998), but that’s a story for another book. It was a liberating journey, undertaken for no reason at all.

Another time I bought a mobile phone for a complete stranger, simply because it made him happy, and that made me happier still. I’m not pretending to be a saint here – no not at all – I’m too much of an honest rascal for that. I simply lost my fear of losing money, and remembered the joy of giving. I spent that money for me, more than for him. 

That coin of glorious generosity has two sides, since I ended up spending all my life’s savings, which wasn’t much to begin with, while digesting this strange, life-altering experience.  I’ve never made that money back, and don’t mind too much either, though it has practical implications. My career path had already run into a dead end. The world machine spat me out, and I was unemployed for some time. My partner freaked out, because she thought I was headed for a life on the streets. “Charity begins at home!” She cried, but that too is a long story for another time.

When I tried to speak about my awakening to most people, I would get a blank stare, and I could see the mental shutters coming down. End of conversation. Something inside of people refuses to hear. I respect that now.

I have come to understand that I really cannot help most people, in a fundamental way. They don’t actually need, or want me to help them, nor do they really care to ask for help, and that’s probably a good thing. Each one is in a bubble, until the river finds the ocean, and the ocean finds the river. I know that they are exactly who, what and where they want to be. Let it be. 

Helping people spiritually is like trying to help a compulsive gambler by lending him a hundred bucks. It’s not going to solve the problem. He needs to at least begin to see the river for flow, and only then can I help him see more. My heart is open and available to anyone who wants to share this journey, find their center, or learn to ride the energy waves, though I have nothing to sell, nothing to defend, and nothing to prove. I offer my unfolding to the world, though few will know what that means.

Realizing this was painful, and surprising, at first, so I learned to keep quiet about this wonder – even though I could so clearly see how desperately people needed to feel what I had felt, to see what I had seen, and could never un-see. There was just no way to convey it. Fruit ripens whenever it ripens, and no sooner. Who am I to impose my personal timetable on the cosmos?

None of the words and phrases in the list above, (like Samadhi) carry much meaning for people who have not tasted this experience. The words and ideas remain empty mental constructions, offering only a teasing hint of a possibility. The most devout believers are the worst skeptics. I have been trying to improve on these words, but I will admit openly, I have failed miserably, and will likely fail again here. I don’t mind.

It’s like feeding the wild birds. I like to see them fly away, so I keep doing it. I don’t owe them a thing, and they owe me less than nothing. They bless my days with their presence. That is all. 

Part of me knows this description is utterly impossible. Our shared language is not designed for this task. Another part of me, the writer-poet part, wishes to continue to refine this process, if only to clarify my own thinking, and to improve my powers of observation and expression. It’s just a game, though – so nothing serious here, and I have nothing to sell, and no one to convince. One day, just like you, I must let go of everything I think I know. 

Perhaps someone else may benefit from reading this – although I don’t know if that is even possible anymore. Then again – what is impossible for a good heart? I hope it sparks something authentic within you, at the very least. Perhaps all it can do is to show you that it is possible to walk alone. 

This may well be an egotistical thing to attempt. So be it – I undertake this in the spirit of friendliness towards the ego, and in openhearted love, with as much clarity and wisdom as I can muster. So here goes – let me try to catch hold of some of the insights.

Click here to read the next chapter: The Center of Life

Start from the beginning: Wordless Self-Reflection