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December 2003
Selected works of Richard Rose
Essays, poems, opinions and humor on seeking
Peace of Mind Despite Success, by Richard Rose
This is the first part of a public talk given by Richard Rose at Irwin, PA in 1984.
And I want you to feel free to ask questions. What you have
in any group when you give a talk are people of different
interests and different levels of interest. I'm talking this
stuff every day, and it gets to a point where I'm so familiar
with it I just presume everybody that I talk to understands what
I'm saying. And lots of times there is a percentage of people
with no real rapport with what I'm saying, and their language is
different.
At the last talk I gave over in Pittsburgh I sensed that
there were some very sincere people there -- and I'm inclined to
be rather blunt with a lot of things that I say -- and I had kind
of an afterthought in the back of my head, "Be careful. Don't
say certain things tonight." Because there's some people there
that might be hurt. Their pet theology is everything they've got
in the world, and if you give that a kick that's no good.
Now for young people -- I think young people need to be
shocked out of ruts that they might get into. But when you get
somebody that's sixty, seventy, eighty years of age....
I often think of my mother as a case. My mother was a very
devout Catholic and had her concept of where she was going after
death all mapped out for herself. And I had to stand by her
bedside as she died, and I kept biting my tongue from
saying anything. Because I was afraid that even consolation
might betray the fact that I didn't believe what she believed
about where she was going. Which is the best thing to do.
I used to give talks up at Kent, Ohio and I'd ask a few
people, "What are you interested in?" People weren't interested
in esoteric philosophy. That was back in the early seventies.
They were interested in dynamic characters like Don Juan, a lot
of them were reading Alan Watts. But they were not interested in
a really deep research into the heavier Zen writers like
Suzuki or the deeper philosophies put out by people like Paul
Brunton or Gurdjieff. They didn't even know their names. And
consequently if you start quoting Gurdjieff and three fourths of
the people have never heard his name, you're wasting your time.
So we have to break every once in awhile and let somebody
ask some questions, and then we'll try to draw a parallel about
what that fellow said and what his contribution was. Incidentally, I
think Gurdjieff made a tremendous contribution to psychology. I
think he's the greatest psychologist produced up until 1950. [Gurdjieff died late in 1949 - Ed.]
I've got a little special message I'd like to bring, if I
can get it across tonight, and that is the importance of what
we're doing, or what I'm trying to do, let's put it that way.
Again, it's difficult to get that across, because we're talking
in terms of people's valuations of a common commodity, being
wisdom, or achievement on a philosophic line. So anybody that
ever dabbles in a philosophic direction is going to have a
different idea of what he thinks is valuable.
We have a case just yesterday or the day before, where the
young Kennedy boy [David] overdosed and perished, and he had all the
stuff at his disposal in the line of wealth in order to create an
environment. He could have created any environment he had wanted
with his wealth, but somehow his thinking still wasn't clear, and
he settled on something that made him miserable.
Last night on television Ted Kennedy's remark was, "I hope
he is more at peace where he is now than what he was before."
That he found peace, at least, someplace.
But anyhow this book (The Albigen Papers) was a story of
notes I had taken -- I was fifty-five years of age when the book
first came out. Now those were notes that were taken from the
time I was a young man, and I had never put them into any form at
all except a heap of notes. I had started to put them together
and type them out, and I was going through quite a labor of
sorting them and trying to keep from repeating myself, because
many the notes over a period of years repeated things I had noted
before.
In the meantime I got an opportunity to speak up here in
Pittsburgh, at the Theosophical Society -- it was the first time I
had talked on the subject. Just about that time was when the 8-1/2 by 11 copies came out.
Well, things started happening. Some boys hitchhiked over
from Kent to hear me talk -- I knew the father of one of the boys
-- they went back and set up talks for me at Kent State, and from
then I went it seemed very rapidly from one university to
another, and by 1973 I was putting the book out in a 5 by 8 [i.e., professionally printed and bound]
instead of the 8-1/2 by 11 format.
A group of people formed, and at one time there were over a
hundred what I considered dedicated people, who were living the
life. The were using The Albigen Papers as a guide for their
life, and it worked. The amazing thing about it is that you don't look for
amazing things to happen. You don't go into it saying, "I'm
going to put so much energy into this and I will get X amount of
returns." That's not the formula.
There is a definite formula in the book. But the book is a
handbook. It's a handbook for a lifestyle. And to
have things happen, to put all the energy into the venture you
can possibly put into it, without any egotistical idea that you
should have what you want. You should have a reservation, that
if that's in the cards, if that's part of the master plan, part
of the engineer's blueprint, then we say "good," we'll rejoice.
If it's not in the cards, we'll keep on working anyhow.
So this is a rough idea of the attitude that a person would
have from the book.
The book is jammed. It's a condensed thing, because it was
notes I had made, just like I'm using notes here to talk by so
that I don't forget something. But it was pretty much condensed
because I was doing the typing myself and my coordination wasn't
too good. So I was making mistakes, and I would shorten the
sentences so I could get the thing over with sometimes, I think.
In the book was a list of laws, which I had noted. Some of
them you're acquainted with, some of them you may not be
acquainted with. I'll mention a couple of them to show you the
scope of the thing:
"The Law of Proportional Returns." Now this has to do
with any type of success. I maintain that these things in the
book apply -- basically they were written for philosophic reasons
-- but the application of them will fit into any lifestyle or any
plan of life, whether it's economic, financial, or a power
struggle, even.
As I said, the procedure has to be selfless to succeed.
This is one of the great blocks that stops people from really
having success.
I could not get this through my head when I was younger. It
was slow sinking in, I think, because when a person is in their
late teens and twenties, up to the time they're about thirty,
they have the conviction that they can bull through with their
shoulders and create a wedge in the plan, the social pattern, and
make a place for themselves, and chop out a little area in which
they will get rich and get happy, and everything they want will
be there, and they're going to do it all with sheer
determination, will power, etcetera.
They've got a few other little things, too, like knowing the
right people, and that sort of thing.
But I realized -- it just came as a sort of a hunch -- I had
been doing this -- I'd been bulling my way through for many years.
And I was in my late twenties when I came to the conclusion just
by accident.
I didn't have too much love for humanity, but I had a lot of
anger for fraudulence, for hucksters. And throughout this
business of esoteric philosophy, and with religious people as
well....
I mean we have the multi-millionaires on TV. And they're
getting the money to pay for the TV space from little old ladies
who can't afford to pay, in my estimation.
... So we've got hucksters and we've got phonies and we've
got sometimes sexual deviants, where that's the only thing they
can work at and at the same time get their sexual partners
without too much trouble; get them inside the sphere of their
religious preaching.
And I'm not exaggerating. I found these things in my own
search. You're going along somewhere and you think somebody is
sincere, and you find they've got an ulterior motive; they don't
have a motive for truth at all. They've got a personal motive.
And when you get them cornered....
I was rather dismayed one time when I was hitch-hiking up
from Butler. I had gone down to Butler for a walk, and one of
the parents of one of the priests picked me up and gave me a ride
back. He said, "You from the seminary?"
And I said, "Yes."
And he said, "My son is down there. That's a wonderful
place," he said. "He'll never go hungry."
And I thought, "Jesus! Is that what it is?"
A feed bag -- just a place to eat. This is what he was
looking at. Security. I read this book The Nun's Story, about a
nun that became a doctor and went down to Africa and took care of
sick people and that sort of thing. In her book she mentions
that the convent was full of women who came from poor families
who couldn't afford to feed them. They couldn't afford to keep
them, so they encouraged them to join the monastery.
I think that my mother thought I was crippled and wouldn't
be able to earn a living. She encouraged me to go because she
thought I was weak. Which I was. But I managed to get my health
built up and do a little work. (Laughs)
But out of this picture that I grew up in, I determined....
I got angry. As I said, I didn't have much sympathy at first for
humanity, but I had a lot of anger for these people who were
parasitical. So I just had an inborn determination to make it
known.
And I didn't have too good of tools. I wasn't illiterate,
but at the same time I wasn't used to writing philosophy. But I
made up my mind to get the point across if I had to write it
longhand and Xerox it and hand it out for nothing. To get the
thing across.
So, as a result of that -- that was automatically a gesture
of concern for my fellowman. And I didn't even know it at the
time. Because from that point on I worked for the future in
which I would be able to help somebody else.
And only then did it start to pay off. It wasn't too many
years after that that something happened. I had an experience
which confirmed my search.
OK. We've got these laws, as I said, that I encountered,
and they started manifesting themselves; and I think they're
good to know, because they're applicable to almost anything, to
any venture that you want to get into.
One of them is the Law of Proportional Returns -- which we're
all acquainted with. In other words, if you put so many pounds
of coal into a steam engine, you can predict the amount of energy
you're going to get out of that steam engine. That's the Law of
Proportional Returns.
If you do so much work as a salesman and keep it up -- they
call it "throwing mud at the ceiling" -- some of it will stick.
It will eventually pay off, and you will become successful by
putting out the energy.
The next one is the Law of the Ladder. This refers to the
business of helping other people. That you can only help the
person on the ladder rung below you, and can only be helped by the
person on the ladder rung above you. And any attempt to reach
too far down results in crucifixion. And any attempt to reach up
too far would not work because you would despise the man on the
second rung above you. You can only understand the one right
above you.
There's another law, and that is the Law of Friendship.
To be continued....
These words are shed
Fall is the wisest season,
*
"Home"
*
Bonsai is marriage
*
A weight descends upon me,
*
We play at life
*
Light stabbing through blackness
In this desert is Self.
Faith and Discovery, by Shawn Nevins
I will use an analogy, and let you substitute terms. You hear stories of Shangri-La, dream of it, and perhaps for a moment glimpse it inside your self. There are maps, and maps of ways to make your own map, yet you only venture out on the weekends. You fear straying too far from the familiar, fear the rest of your life will suffer, fear what others will think, and fear loss. A bird in hand is worth two in the bush, but is a bird in hand worth more than transcending the hunt for food?
"I'm not sure," you say. You want assurance of Shangri-La before you set out in search of it. You want what can only come about when you set foot in Shangri-La. Shangri-La is inside and beyond you and can only be known for certain after you have journeyed and arrived.
Well, then search for that of which you are sure. Write out what you do each day and what are the goals of those actions. What assurances are there about those goals? Their transience should be obvious. Do you wish to bet your life on transience or search for something more? You are already a naked emperor.
Those who are honest, realize there is only one hope. They have no need of faith. They walk inward, away from transience, toward discovery and surety.
Today I Was Happy, So I Made This Poem
As the plump squirrel scampers
I Died at 10:52 A.M., by Victor D. Solow
When I left home with my wife last March 23 to go for a ten-minute jog, I did not know that I would be gone for two weeks. My trip was the one that all of us must make eventually, from which only a rare few return. In my case a series of events occurred so extraordinarily timed to allow my eventual survival that words like "luck" or "coincidence" no longer seem applicable.
It was a beautiful Saturday morning. We had jogged and were driving back home to Mamaroneck, NY, along the Boston Post Road. It was 10:52 a.m. I had just stopped at a red light, opposite a gas station. My long, strange trip was about to start, and I must now use my wife's words to describe what happened for the next few minutes:
"I pulled on the emergency brake, pleading with him to hang on, shouting for help. The light changed and traffic moved around my car. No one noticed me. My husband's color had now turned gray-green; his mouth hung open, but his eyes continued seemingly to view an astounding scene. I frantically tried to pull him to the other seat so I could drive him to the hospital. Then my cries for help attracted Frank Colangelo, proprietor of the gas station, who telephoned the police."
When Seconds Count
It was now 10:55 -- three minutes had elapsed since my heart arrest. A first-aid manual reads, "When breathing and heartbeat stop and are not artificially started, death is inevitable. Therefore, artificial resuscitation must be started immediately. Seconds count." Time was running out. In another 60 seconds my brain cells could start to die.
Now came the first of the coincidences: Before police headquarters could radio the emergency call, Officer James Donnellan, cruising along the Boston Post Road, arrived at the intersection where our car seemed stalled. Checking me for pulse, and respiration, and finding neither, he pulled me from the car with the help of Mr. Colangelo, and immediately started cardiopulmonary resuscitation.
In the meantime, the police alert had reached Officer Michael Sena, who chanced to be cruising just half a mile from the scene. He reached me in less than half a minute. From his car Sena yanked an oxygen tank and an apparatus with a mask which is used to force air into the lungs. Within seconds he had the mask over my face. Donnellan continued with heart massage. Sena later told me, "I was sure we were just going through the motions. I would have bet my job that you were gone."
Police headquarters also alerted the emergency rescue squad via high-pitched radio signal on the small alert boxes all squad members carry on their belts. When his warning signal went off, Tom McCann, volunteer fireman and trained emergency medical technician, was conducting a fire inspection. He looked up and saw Officers Donnellan and Sena working on a "body" less than 50 yards away. McCann made the right connection and raced over, arriving just ten seconds after his alarm sounded.
"I tried the carotid pulse -- you had no pulse," McCann later said. "There was no breathing. Your eyes were open, and your pupils were dilated -- a bad sign!" Dilated pupils indicate that blood is not reaching the brain. It can mean that death has occurred.
It was 10:56. McCann, who weighs 270 pounds, began to give me a no-nonsense heart massage.
Perfect Timing
The strange coincidences continued. The emergency-squad warning beeper went off at the exact moment when Peter Brehmer, Ronald Capasso, Chip Rigano, and Richard and Paul Torpey were meeting at the firehouse to change shifts. A moment later and they would have left. The ambulance was right there. Everybody piled in. Manned by five trained first-aid technicians, the ambulance arrived three minutes later. It was 10:59.
When I was being moved into the ambulance, United Hospital in Port Chester, six miles distant, was radioed. The hospital called a "Code 99" over its loudspeaker system, signaling all available personnel into the Emergency Room. Here, an ideal combination of specialists was available: when I arrived, two internists, two surgeons, two technicians from the cardiology department, two respiratory therapists and four nurses were waiting. Dr. Harold Roth later said: "The patient at that point was dead by available standards. There was no measurable pulse, he was not breathing, and he appeared to have no vital signs whatever."
11:10 a.m. A cardiac monitor was attached; a tube supplying pure oxygen was placed in my wind-pipe; intravenous injections were started. An electric-shock apparatus was then attached to my chest.
11:14. The first electric shock was powerful enough to lift my body inches off the operating table. But there was no result; my heart still showed no activity.
11:15. A second electric shock was applied -- a final try. Twenty-three minutes had elapsed since my heart had stopped. Now, excitement exploded around the operating table as an irregular heart rhythm suddenly showed on the monitor. To everyone's amazement, I sat bolt upright and started to get off the table. I had to be restrained.
"There ... and Back"
Sometime later I was aware that my eyes were open. But I was still part of another world. It seemed that by chance I had been given this human body and it was difficult to wear. Dr. Roth later related: "I came to see you in the Coronary Care Unit. You were perfectly conscious. I asked how you felt, and your response was: 'I feel like I've been there and I've come back.' It was true: you were there and now you were back."
A hard time followed. I could not connect with the world around me. Was I really here now, or was it an illusion? Was that other condition of being I had just experienced the reality, or was that the illusion? I would lie there and observe my body with suspicion and amazement. It seemed to be doing things of its own volition and I was a visitor within. How strange to see my hand reach out for something. Eating, drinking, watching people had a dream-like, slow-motion quality as if seen through a veil.
During those first few days I was two people. My absent-mindedness and strange detachment gave the doctors pause. Perhaps the brain had been damaged after all. Their concern is reflected in hospital records: "Retrograde amnesia and difficulty with subsequent current events was recognized.... The neurologist felt prognosis was rather guarded regarding future good judgment...."
On the sixth day there was a sudden change. When I woke up, the world around me no longer seemed so peculiar. Something in me had decided to complete the return trip. From that day on, recovery was rapid. Eight days later I was discharged from the hospital.
Questions
Now family, friends and strangers began to ask what "death was like." Could I remember what had happened during those 23 minutes when heart and breathing stopped? I found that the experience could not easily be communicated.
Later, feeling and thinking my way back into the experience, I discovered why I could not make it a simple recital of events: when I left my body I also left all sensory tools behind with which we perceive the world we take for real. But I found that I now knew certain things about my place in this our world and my relationship to that other reality. My knowing was not through my brain but with another part of me which I cannot explain.
Transcendence
The grid was like a transformer, an energy converter transporting me through form and into formlessness, beyond time and space. Now I was not in a place, nor even in a dimension, but rather in a condition of being. This new "I" was not the I which I knew, but rather a distilled essence of it, yet something vaguely familiar, something I had always known buried under a superstructure of personal fears, hopes, wants and needs. This "I" had no connection to ego. It was final, unchangeable, indivisible, indestructible pure spirit. While completely unique and individual as a fingerprint, "I" was, at the same time, part of some infinite, harmonious and ordered whole. I had been there before.
The condition "I" was in was pervaded by a sense of great stillness and deep quiet. Yet there was also a sense of something momentous about to be revealed, a further change. But there is nothing further to tell except of my sudden return to the operating table.
I would like to repeat that these experiences outside the dimensions of our known reality did not "happen" as if I were on some sort of voyage I could recollect. Rather, I discovered them afterward, rooted in my consciousness as a kind of unquestionable knowing. Being of a somewhat skeptical turn of mind, I am willing to grant the possibility that this is a leftover of some subtle form of brain damage. I know, however, that since my return from that other condition of being, many of my attitudes toward our world have changed and continue to change, almost by themselves. A recurrent nostalgia remains for that other reality, that condition of indescribable stillness and quiet where the "I" is part of a harmonious whole. The memory softens the old drives for possession, approval and success.
Postscript: I have just returned from a pleasant, slow, mile-and-a-half jog. I am sitting in our garden writing. Overhead a huge dogwood moves gently in a mild southerly breeze. Two small children, holding hands, walk down the street absorbed in their own world. I am glad I am here and now. But I know that this marvelous place of sun and wind, flowers, children and lovers, this murderous place of evil, ugliness and pain, is only one of many realities through which I must travel to distant and unknown destinations. For the time being I belong to the world and it belongs to me.
© Mrs. Victor D. Solow. Reprinted by permission. This article first appeared in the October, 1974 Reader's Digest and then in the TAT Journal Vol. 2, No. 3.
Devotion, by Bob Cergol
I made some comment at a recent SKS retreat about the two poles in paths, i.e. devotional and self-analysis (jnana) and how most of them saw a hierarchy here, with Zen being above devotion. I said I was growing in my belief that Zen was the path required for those with bigger egos. In the final analysis, a devotional path of surrender would ultimately lead to the same confrontation of identity and "giving up of the egocentric position" as the supposedly more direct path of self-definition through confrontation and challenge.
If the devotional path was all about giving oneself to "god" or "letting god manifest in one's life," then wouldn't the sincere person be constantly faced with their failings in this regard, and in examining how they are NOT doing that and how they are placing themselves above "god"? A parallel question is, "How strongly do you believe in your own power?" followed by, "Where is the evidence for that belief?"
I believe Rose advocated BOTH, but he under-emphasized the devotional or feeling side, and his students have greatly under-emphasized it. Yet it is there, very prominently, in his writings, mostly the poetry. He once said at a lecture that you had to have 'HEAT,' that emotion and a yearning desire were the furnace to fuel the search.
This subject is very much tied in, for me, with the discussions we had on becoming at the last TAT meeting.
There are two vectors in play. One is of the Permanent, the other is an echo. The path is a struggle to change the balance of power between them, regarding what will be manifested in us or given expression as us. Will the echo bounce all the way back to the source? Or will it get diffused and muffled on the return journey? An absence of a devotional element, even if it seems to have no object, indicates strong identification with ego -- which is only the echo.
So yes, I think there must be a devotional aspect in one's path. It is pursued the same as the philosophic path, i.e. a practice of inquiry into the self with total honesty.
It is difficult to speak about devotion in impersonal terms. I think [American Zen master Alfred] Pulyan is anthropomorphizing a bit when he writes poetically, "It is a fact that there is a Something that seeks us individually and personally with a humility and open simplicity we lack."
The Something to which he refers is that which is Permanent and therefore contains us, not we it. We emanate from it, not it from us. We are but an expression of it. So, in devotional language, how could the Father not love his only begotten son? How could anything in this manifested universe be anything but an echo of that One -- the infinitely complex echo portraying an endlessly complex theme of the descent into the separation of multiplicity and the return ascent into unity? I think this is the "flow of life" to which Pulyan makes reference.
Christianity seems to be a language of devotion with quite a deep esoteric aspect. In the first few pages of Matthew's gospel, I recently stopped when I read: "The light of the body is the Eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light."
From an on-line confrontation group correspondence dated November 2000.
A Childhood Story, by Robert Bossman
While reading the Richard Rose story (up to Ch. 11 so far) it
triggered a memory of a game I used to play as a child of 7 or 8
years of age. The trigger was Rose's recollection or explanation
of the "void" during his experience.
Well while lying in bed trying to fall asleep at night as a kid, I
used to imagine my house disappearing, then my city block
disappearing, then my city, then my country and all others on the
planet, then Earth itself (imagine zooming out into space), then
the planets in our solar system, our sun, then I continued
erasing the stars and other planets and galaxies until the
universe was entirely empty.
I don't know why, but from time to time I would do it again, just
to end up scaring myself shitless. Imagining that everything that ever
was or would be was no more was too overwhelming. It wasn't
even a void. Because a void to me connotes emptiness.
However, the feeling was more like the entire universe was
being squeezed into a pinprick and even that was no more ... but
and it's an important but, there was no space around it.
Something the mind cannot conceptualize. Or maybe had I let
myself go I would have.
It's tough to put into words. And it's interesting that I did
this at
such a young age. Was I remembering something as a child?
Any comments on this childhood experience are welcome. I
stopped reading the Rose story at that point as I became
frightened again.
Reprinted with permission by Robert Bossman from the Dr. Hawkins Yahoo group. The Richard Rose story referred to is "After the Absolute: The Inner Teachings of Richard Rose" by David Gold with Bart Marshall, including the Forward by Joseph Chilton Pearce, which is on OnZen.com.
Disciple: But how shall I comprehend this Ungrund (this naked Ground of the Soul, void of all Self)? Master: If thou goest about to comprehend it, then it will fly away from thee; but if thou dost surrender thyself wholly up to it, then it will abide with thee, and become the Life of thy Life, and be natural to thee." - Jacob Boehme
The Mechanics of Dreaming, by Bob Fergeson
As spiritual seekers, we should become at least as aware of how we are built inside as we are of our anatomy. Our mind and its workings should be as familiar as the wiggling toes on our feet. Sadly, this is seldom the case. Let's take a look within our machine and see what's really happening in the inner realm of thought and feeling.
Now we have to back up a bit and get into this business of identification, and the observer. Most of us are predominately identified with either feeling or thinking, and our main sense of "I" is in one of these functions or the other. The weaker of these is usually negated, and the brunt of much abuse by the ego centered in the dominant function. The trick is to bring both of the functions into full consciousness and to get behind them. To observe them rather than just identify. To unconsciously identify with the mechanical reactions going on in the mind is to stay asleep, believing in the dream we're unconsciously creating, which is based on the previous dream, ad infinitum. Direct contact with the inner self or higher power is impossible when this chain of mechanical reaction is running rampant. Not a good way to live, if you think about it.
Let's ask the question again, and see what happens. "How do I feel?" Be quick. You have to be awake and watching before the process gets moving. Can you see the image you project of who you think you are? Now, watch the feeling center have a reaction to this image. Then the resulting modification or acceptance is applied to this image of "I." If you try this in a very relaxed state, free from stress or worry, desire and fear, you may get lucky and see nothing. You may see nothing but an attention or awareness which looks within the quiet mind, sees nothing but silence, and then looks to the now silent feeling center, and sees nothing. No reaction, because there is no unquestioned belief causing the mind to project an image, which you then identify as "you." Now, wait until you are under stress or in a bad mood, or excited and feeling good about yourself, and ask the question again. The feeling center will be sending out a constant emotional signal to the mind, which will be obliging enough to create the appropriate image. Teamwork at its best, eh? Both of these reactions, the image-making apparatus and the feeling reaction, are mind. But where are you in all of this?
The impartial observer is not found by simply denying one half of the mind-team and thus claiming the death, or victory, of one's ego because you have ceased to have emotions; or to think you have stopped thinking and entered "no-mind." Such sophistry will soon enough be put to the test. The solution lies in the trap of identification, in the misplacement of the "I." Lead the attention farther and farther within, until you have fallen behind your self, behind the mind. In this back of beyond lies Nothing, Boehme's Ungrund, pure Silence. From then on the images and emotional reactions of the mind will be seen as simply as one sees those wiggling toes.
See Bob's web sites, The Mystic Missal, the Photo Site and The Listening Attention.
These are my principles. If you don't like them, I have others.
~ Groucho Marks
Never go to a doctor whose office plants have died.
~ Billy Crystal
A sobering thought: What if at this very moment I am living up to my full potential?
~ Woody Allen
Reader Commentary:
In response to the articles written on the question: "How can a person know if he or someone else -- a prospective teacher -- has successfully completed the spiritual search?" I thought about writing about it when the call came, but found I had nothing to say. But reading the responses that did come, words do seem to come.
You can't know about somebody else, whether they are a teacher or not, unless you've found the teacher in yourself, because how else can you be sure? How else can you recognize a teacher outside yourself, if not in a small way you've found him/her in yourself. For the teacher … is the spiritual search really ever over? Jiddu Krishnamurti kept searching, his whole teaching-career was a search. He taught by searching, as it were. But then, he didn't want to be a guru in the conventional sense of the word … I think only those who are humble enough to know and admit they are still searching, can be considered real teachers. I don’t mean searching in the sense of frantically looking everywhere for a glimmer of hope, or happiness, or inspiration. I think a spiritual teacher keeps searching in the sense that each moment is new. The past doesn’t interfere. There is an interest, a looking, an observing nature there that has a lightness to it. It is calm, yet always awake, full of fire. I don’t think that is easy to recognize in somebody else, because these are inner qualities somebody has, how can you judge them from the outside?
Anyhow, I appreciate your forum. ~ Katinka Hesselink
Just read this month's forum. Excellent!! I am emailing it to a friend
Please keep up the good work. ~ Gary G.
Please
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