In this mystic’s very first blog post I expressed a burning desire to know the great mysteries of the Universe and beyond, implying that this may not be possible in the traditional sense of a person who attains knowledge. Put it another way: if all the phenomena of existence were to suddenly appear in your consciousness, in your “head,” you think the light bulb might blow? Sounds a bit ridiculous, right?
The Buddha in his lifetime is known for not responding to metaphysical questions such as is the cosmos infinite or not, or what happens after our physical death. These have been labeled as questions which tend not to edification. This piece from Loveofallwisdom.com provides summary and perspective as illustrated using the parable of the poison arrow. The idea is that there is nothing wrong about being curious, but our actions in the here and now define who we are, both individually and collectively. The parable of the poison arrow, a man asking questions about the origin of the arrow running through him, and refusing to get it pulled out until his questions are answered, has deep implications regarding the human condition. Could the poison arrow, at times, be a self-inflicted wound?
It seems convincing that there are two separate compartments to our reality in this world (for those unenlightened.) There is the seeming “self” with all its attendant pluses and minuses and there is the other, or as Tom Petty called it, “the great wide open.” This paragraph may seem like a slight detour, but I want to touch on the allure or intoxication of inquiry, spiritual or otherwise. After all, we are a big-brained and inquiring species. This mystic would argue that a fundamental pull toward spiritual practices is a deep yearning to know, to “go home.” The other fundamental pull is for those suffering greatly who step on the path seeking relief. Perhaps the right dose of metaphysics for one on a spiritual journey or “the path” is what keeps one interested and motivated. The same might be said about reading scripture or spiritual books. It seems like “the path” eventually leads toward a fundamental process that de-emphasizes cognition over direct awareness. This is where those drawn to the path for different reasons find themselves on common ground. That common ground is the world as it is, messy as it is, and seemingly futile-to-ask-metaphysical-questions as it is. It is hinted at by the following passage from Dogen’s fascicle, Spring and Autumn:
Dongshan was asked by a monk, “When cold or heat comes, how can we avoid it?”
Dongshan said, “Why don’t you go where there is no cold or heat?”
The monk said, “What do you mean by ‘where there is no cold or heat’?”
Dongshan said, “When it is cold, cold finishes the monk. When it is hot, heat demolishes the monk.”
Dogen concludes: “Even in the secular world the understanding of sun and moon, and how to abide with all things, varies according to sages, learned people, virtuous people, and ignorant people. Don’t think that cold and heat in the buddha way are the same as the cold and heat that ignorant people talk about. Investigate this directly.”
It seems like the hustle and bustle of “modern” life and advances in science and technology are a very separate “place” from what happens “inside” ourselves and amongst ourselves where strife and discord, if not war, exist. This will go on as long as there is self and other, subject and object. One thing this mystic is convinced of is that it is indeed difficult to open up to the world and make a better world if we are lost in our own pain. All of us (well most of us) have old poison arrows and asking the right questions is key for their removal. In fact, any spiritual practice has to include attending to the suffering self in order to attend to the suffering of others. There is a beautiful recorded dharma talk by Sallie Jiko Tisdale entitled The Poison Arrow. In the talk she covers how our karma and collective karma shapes our world view. She describes that we often act like a Samurai who accidentally dropped his sword into the water while on a boat and then notched the side of the boat where he dropped it. Oops! She emphasizes that we all have aspects of our selves that are like “the Samurai without the sword.” The lost sword might be a lost love, not having the body we wish we would have, or something much darker that has caused pain and loss in the past, or is continuing to do so in the present. Making peace with the present by asking the right questions and realizing that you may never have that sword again is a key. I leave you today with this gatha, from Christina Feldman:
May I rest in not knowing.
May I find ease in stillness.
May I be equally near all things.
Little Known Mystic 