e g r e g o r e s

"Graciously bestow upon all men felicity, the summit of which is the knowledge of the Gods." [Julian, Oration to the Mother of the Gods]

"Everyone has a light", part deux

[this is a continuation of an earlier post]

Master Yunmen said, “Everyone has a light.” Really? Even if that is true, the fact remains that we walk through this world as if we were in constant darkness. We pollute, commit acts of violence, accumulate wealth while others starve, etc. We constantly feel lonely, angry, betrayed, abused, etc. None of this is news to anyone. But sometimes, miraculously, this darkness is pierced by the light – and no amount of being told that the light is everywhere all the time can substitute for the actual experience of seeing the light for oneself. More specifically, even though everyone has a light it is a very rare experience, a great treasure, when we see that light coming from someone else. In her song “Pulse” Ani Difranco refers first to an artificial light (“the hallway light”) and says that “this is nothing compared to the dawn” – but then she goes on to say that even the light of the sun is “nothing compared to the light which seeps” from her beloved lying asleep beside her. And as she sleepily and lovingly bathes in that light Ani feels that she would be willing to give her own breath, her own pulse, for the sake of the one that she loves.

Love – whether it is the love of friendship (that is, true, deep, loving friendship), or the more romantic, sexual variety – is a great mystery. In fact it is the ultimate mystery of our very existence – the mystery of self and other. To experience true love, true intimacy, even one time, even fleetingly, is to taste what the Buddha called anatman – “no self”. In that intimacy the friend/lover finds her true self in the beloved other – and in that same instant self and other cease to exist as neatly separable beings. It is not just deep friendship and romantic love that have this quality of dissolving the boundary between self and other. Perhaps more than any other relationship that of parent and child also pulls back the curtain to reveal the emptiness behind the veil of self. But all of these relationships are universal (or very nearly so) to all human beings. In that case most of us have seen the light. And yet. Even having experienced the deepest of intimacy, the greatest and highest of spiritual treasures, the ego still exists. Grasping, loneliness, envy, anger, despair – all still exist. Love does not “fix” the ego, but it does provide a light that shines the way – a different way. As the old Buddhist cliché tells us – it is a finger pointing to the moon.

Ganto and Seppo had a friendship like that: a deep friendship that was, in a sense, based on nothing whatsoever. Unconditional love is just that – not conditioned by anything. This is not some far-away unattainable goal. Newborn infants are able to survive only because of unconditional love. True friends who will do anything for one another – despite all their faults as human beings – have that kind of love. Even a horny love-struck teenager gets a taste of it.

The story of Seppo’s great enlightenment experience is often explained in terms that are decidedly “dualistic”. For example – Ganto is enlightenend and Seppo is not. Or – at the beginning Seppo is not enlightened – and then later he is. The word dualism gets thrown around a lot, so let me state, as clearly as I can, how I mean this term. To me, dualism means the idea that there is something in the universe, or, more specifically, something inside of us, that needs to be gotten rid of. Any kind of world-view that seeks to identify, and then eliminate, all the “bad stuff” – that is what I call dualism. Enlightenment is not like that at all – it is not something that Ganto has but Seppo lacks. Much less is it something that Ganto can give to Seppo. The enlightened mind is nothing other than the mind which does not seek to get rid of anything at all.

What is Ganto up to when he pokes fun at his friend? “You look just like a road-side shrine, sitting there like that.” Some commentators even go so far as to assert that Ganto and his teacher (who is also Seppo’s teacher) have contrived this whole trip just to bring about Seppo’s enlightenment! But there is nothing calculating at all about either Ganto or Seppo – they are both of them unimpeachably just being themselves. And, as true friends, Ganto is even more Ganto when he is with Seppo – and vice versa. This is the opposite of how we are with anyone else, anyone who is not a true friend. With anyone other than a true friend we constantly betray ourselves – we hide our light. Of course, being human, we are also capable (all too capable – as Nietzsche might say) of betraying ourselves even with those who love us – but at least with a true friend we are more likely to relax and naturally be just who and what we are (whatever that is).

Another “dualistic” interpretation of the story of Ganto and Seppo is that Ganto’s way of living is somehow superior to Seppo’s. Ganto, according to this analysis, acts the way an enlightened person is supposed to act – carefree and spontaneous. Seppo, on the other hand, acts the way an unenlightened person acts – he is neurotic and uptight, his “mind is not at rest” as he himself puts it. As is often the case with dualism, there is some truth to this. Sure, Seppo and everyone else might be happier if he lightened up a little. But Seppo’s great virtue is that he cannot lie to himself. He cannot pretend to “be cool”. He is already being true to himself.

The worst possible misrepresentation of this story would be to think that Seppo changes into something else as a result of his awakening. And here is the other great mystery, alongside that of self and other. The mystery of returning to your true self. This is the great mystery of coming back, coming home, to the human realm; a journey that is only possible within the human realm itself.

There are times, many times, in our lives when we rely completely and desperately on those that we love and who love us. But there is great reciprocity in that reliance. The parent who holds a helpless, completely dependent child against his body is brought to life by that connection. The light is not diminished by shining. And two friends who travel together, like Seppo and Ganto, will see and do many things that they would have never experienced on their own.

[the pic of ani difranco is from here]

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