The body, mind, and soul are also seen as separate entities by the ego, even though they, like everything else, are actually aspects of the same Infinity. Body is our personally felt physical vessel of the infinity of Spirit in this world of form. Mind is our personally felt conceptual vessel of Spirit in this world of form. Soul is our personally felt sense of Spirit in this world of form. So body, mind, and soul are all actually personal attachments within the deeper context of a single, impersonal Spirit, in the same way that human faces are all essentially slight variations on a single, impersonal face. So a more complete picture might be to suggest that all things are simultaneously distinct and at the same time part of the deep singularity of the All.

Recognizing this simultaneous separation and union usually leads us straight into the heart of one of the great contemplative Big Questions: “Who am I?” There isn’t a standard way of answering this question that has ever satisfied human curiosity. But through this kind of questioning we can uncover who, or even better, what we are not. The desires of the body and the thoughts of the mind, as well as the experiences of the soul, are part of “I’s” experience, but they are not really “I.” The real “I” is a radiant interplay of all these separate things that are ultimately never separate from the infinity of Spirit. Your body, for instance, may feel pain, or your mind may wrestle with thoughts of alienation, or your soul may intuit a great disconnect, but these perceptions are not “I,” they are simply perceptions felt by a thing we call “I.”

“So what is the real ‘I’ then?” I once asked a Hindu teacher who was sitting on the steps of a temple in Bhaktapur, Nepal. I was told this particular person was a “real” master by one of the locals, so I figured I would ask him a tough question to get things rolling.

He turned toward me, leaned in close and said, “The real ‘I’ is located where your question comes from.”

I had no idea what he meant. It must have showed, since he pointed his finger at my face and chuckled, revealing to me and the rest of the world a mouth with only a few teeth. I couldn’t help but smile back, but I was frustrated. I had always been able to do pretty well when it came to figuring stuff out and getting some type of intellectual understanding of things. But this whole Dharma thing, this spiritual quest, was kicking me pretty hard. I just couldn’t grasp it.

The Hindu on the steps had nothing else to say to me on that day. But I learned from our exchange that not grasping meant not getting in the way of the questioning. This is the whole point of the work. The core of the teaching can’t be grasped with the mind or anything else, and the realization of this points us in the direction of a profound truth that any of us can uncover regardless of our IQ score. Think of these questions: If you can observe any disturbance or any bliss in the body, the mind, or the soul, then what is doing the observing? What is it that observes the perceptions of body, mind, and soul in the first place? Quick answers from sharp intellects don’t really have much relevance here since they are simply interpretations of what the mind is thinking. The thinking, in other words, can be observed. What is observing the thinking that you are experiencing right now?

Be encouraged if you can’t uncover an answer. Not knowing, according to Buddhist tradition, sets us up perfectly for Enlightenment since it cultivates our capacity to surrender into a place of alert curiosity. By patiently and fearlessly sitting still with this wonder, we are invariably shown what we truly are. Having said this, we should be careful of a common trap that ego uses to keep us from developing this unattached relationship to Enlightenment. Simply put, we need to be very careful not to confuse Enlightenment with whatever grand perceptions we gain as we sit in stillness. Often we mistake peak experiences perceived by the body and mind as Spirit itself. The deep felt sense of grace, for example, that often accompanies a profound experiential opening to Truth is often amazingly blissful. So it is common for the ego to identify its profound experience with Enlightenment, when in fact the experience itself is still confined to one’s individual experience. This point is critical: Enlightenment must not be confused with a state of bliss. Enlightenment occurs when our attachments to the experiences of both the body and mind fall away entirely and Realization itself breaks down all boundaries of any subject and object. This recognition continually supports an impersonal Knowing that everything is all One. Only when we see that any experience of spiritual recognition is only pointing us toward Enlightenment but is not itself Enlightenment will there be an opening to the awakened context about which the mystics have written. William Blake, for example, points this out beautifully when he says, “We are led to believe a lie, when we see with and not through the eye.” Confusing our perceptions of any experience with the experience itself, in other words, keeps us bound by that in us which is always and forever limited.

This isn’t to say that the bliss any of us might feel during meditation, or after a yoga class, or in the arms of our beloved isn’t a spiritual event. Of course it is. In fact, there isn’t anything that is not a spiritual event. But any spiritual euphoria or peak experiences that we might have are merely our personal senses of bliss rather than an Awakening to Truth itself. This is because our senses are centered and oriented in personal experience. In fact, our senses are typically just an expression of our most basic egocentricity. On the other hand, authentic spiritual practice systematically exposes the egocentric contraction to the openness of the unquantifiable Infinity that is always and already the essence of everything. The witnessing of our senses, in other words, is exactly prior to the senses and is therefore forever beyond their influence. Unfortunately for the ego, Awakening to this insight cannot be understood as a personal experience since “understanding it,” or “grasping it,” awkwardly attempts to force the Infinite into the boundary of our own mind.

Fortunately for me, another one of my Zen teachers was rather ruthless about this point. Years ago, I had been having a rather remarkable time during one seven-day silent meditation retreat: vivid imagery, intense emotions, and bliss beyond anything I could ever put to words. I’ve tried to write it all down of course, but each time the words only worked to diminish its essence. If only a poet were with me at the time so that I could communicate the whole of it. Then again, that would only have given me something to cling to.

Anyway, after one particularly explosive event during an early morning meditation, I met with the teacher. As I bowed to him, the sense that I was bowing to myself and the rest of the Universe arose with a brilliant clarity. There was no more me to be found. Just bowing. At least this is the best way I can describe what happened. It was strange, and yet it was as real as the curls of the smoking incense that burned in the little room where he sat. After some discussion with him, it was clear that I had experienced a kensho. This is the Japanese name for the awakening experience for which we are not supposed to strive. As much as I thought I should have jumped off of my cushion and celebrated, it was as if it didn’t really matter. The phrase “no big deal” actually came out of my mouth.

“No big deal is right,” the teacher said. “Except that it may change your life substantially, as long as you don’t do one thing.”

“What’s that?” I asked, with my attention focused fully on whatever was about to come out of him.

“As long as you don’t cling to this experience, you won’t defile where it’s pointing you.”

The teacher made a crucial point here: just because I had an experience suggesting that my ego was transcended, didn’t mean that my ego had been, in any way, permanently transcended. The work is not about simply glimpsing an opening beyond the ego. It’s about the continual practice of uncovering what the glimpse shows us. It’s about resting as the space that is before and after the ego’s grasp.

This took lots more attention than I expected. I thought for a moment, that I was done, that I’d achieved something, that I’d gained a foothold, an understanding of Enlightenment. But I soon realized that I was wrong. More talks with the teacher only got me more confused by what I’d experienced.

“You can’t put an experience of Awakening in a box and take it with you,” he said some months later. “That only lets your mind try to interpret what it can never grasp.”

Just as our conceptual minds work to diminish the fullness of Awakening, this same thing, I learned, also happens a great deal in relationship to physical practices. For instance, any exercise, or committed body or healing practice, can set us up for incredibly rich and helpful exposure to deeply personal experiences along the Path. Because of this, I wholeheartedly endorse integrating the body and mind into spiritual practice no matter which tradition you might follow. Having some kind of physical practice in our lives helps us align our living experience in a holistic way that sutures together the body with the mind. However, the traditions that emphasize denial of either the body or the mind in order to Awaken won’t take us very far. The body and mind go together in this work. In fact, without a conscious connection to body as well as mind, Awakening will always be partial. Just as we should not confuse actual Awakening with the mental experiences we have in meditation, neither should we confuse actual Awakening with feelings of euphoria brought on by any physical practice. An authentic Awakening goes past, and yet also brings along, the experiences of body and mind. Any practice that falls short of this transcendence and inclusion will trap us in the very place from which we are seeking freedom.

So how is this freedom of Awakening ever uncovered if it can’t be grasped? As we walk the Path, our work is to maintain a free-functioning position of non-grasping in relationship to everything, including the experiences that point to Awakening. When we refrain from grasping, we also refrain from defiling the things we want the most. For example, when we witness the beauty of floral blooms rather than grasping them, they have the chance to offer us, and others, their beauty. When we witness the joy of a child rather than trying to manage it, we have the opportunity to offer and receive love. The same appreciation applies as we Awaken to Truth. By not defiling the Truth as it smashes through everything we’ve ever built to protect us from its power, we Awaken to it. In other words, the minute we turn the signs that point us toward Truth into Truth, we miss a precious chance to Awaken. The sign is neither the road, nor is it the goal. It is just a sign pointing us in the direction of precisely what is beyond the road. Confusing the sign with either the direction or the road itself will always clip the wings of Awakening, and keep us from uncovering the infinitely spacious vehicle of embodied Enlightenment that we have always been.

Awakening to Truth means that we must fearlessly allow for the boundlessness of Infinity to arise continually, not just for us, but as everything. Once we do this, we begin to see that everything is Spirit. We notice the holiness of all things: that we are spiritual beings having human experiences, rather than human beings having spiritual experiences. In order to stay close to this opening, we cultivate practices that help us to meet our lives creatively as more than just inflated expressions of our egoic understanding and its corresponding attachment to the experiential glories of the mind and the body. But this opening can only be done by disarming from deep within ourselves. When we relax and drop our resistance patterns that guard against Infinity and its chaotic and divinely disastrous Love, an awakening ignites within all of us. The world changes to reflect this opening, bit by bit, as each step of this journey unfolds.

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