Applied Spirituality: Seeing Through the Illusion of Our Separateness: Vol. I the Intermediate Level

By Robert Colacurcio

This volume is a compilation of six smaller books that were published between 2012
and 2014. They were written as though I were taking dictation. Some higher power
unlocked the gates of inspiration and articulation, and I wrote almost continuously for
three hours every day without ever fi rst composing an outline for any of these books.
Instead of coming out as gibberish, they form a coherent, and I feel, cogent whole,
and so I have grouped them together in one volume. Performance excellence in any
fi eld requires, among other things, a clear goal that can be methodically approached
incrementally in manageable steps and stages. Without a clear goal, there can be no
cogent methodology. Accomplishment in the practice of a spiritual discipline that leads
to excellent results is no diff erent. Together these books off er a clear goal and method
for accomplishing what I feel is the universal target of every valid form of spiritual
practice, namely, seeing through the illusion of our separateness. This goal is universal
to every form of spiritual aspiration.
The methods outlined in this book, therefore, bypass every form of sectarianism. They
can be applied and practiced by anyone of any faith who is sincerely motivated to
deepen in the spirit that unites us all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503559196

Robert Colacurcio

Robert Colacurcio has been practicing the methodology of the Buddha’s spiritual technology for over thirty five years under the guidance of some of the most accomplished meditation masters in the Vajrayana lineage of Buddhism. Earlier in his life he studied to become a Jesuit priest, and earned his PhD from Fordham University in philosophy. His spiritual background includes two years at the New York Zendo, extensive study in the Human Potential Movement under the direction of Claudio Naranjo and Oscar Ichazo. His journey then took him to a Sufi commune learning the disciplines of the Russian savant, G.I. Gurdjieff. He is also deeply indebted to the works of Carlos Castaneda, Robert Pirsig and Jane Roberts. He currently lives with his wife, Carol, in a suburb of Richmond, Virginia, and delights with pride in the growth and constant source of revelation that are his children and grandchildren

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Copyright © 2015 by Robert Colacurcio.

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CONTENTS

DEMYSTIFYING MYSTICISM: GRATITUDE AS GIFT

Introduction

Chapter One   Get in the Game

Chapter Two   The Gift of New Beginnings

Chapter Three   Morning or Mourning

Chapter Four   Change It Up

Chapter Five   Do You Believe in Grace?

Chapter Six   Taking It For Granite

Chapter Seven   The Gift of Tears

Chapter Eight   Deeper Waters Than Tears

Chapter Nine   The Mouse That Roared

Chapter Ten   Offer It Now

Chapter Eleven   Offer It Again

Chapter Twelve   Give It Away

Chapter Thirteen   Introduction to Sacred Space

Chapter Fourteen   Sacred Space: Not Spaced Out

Chapter Fifteen   Sacred Space: Keeping It Real

Chapter Sixteen   Sacred Space: Reality Check

Chapter Seventeen   Sacred Space: The Challenge of Boredom

Chapter Eighteen   Sacred Space: Abundance

Epilogue

Afterword

DISTRACTION, NO TRACTION

Preface

Introduction

Chapter One   Presence of Mind vs. the Detour of Distraction

Chapter Two   Purposefulness or the Erosion of Meaning

Chapter Three   Looking for One’s Ultimate Purpose

Chapter Four   The Search for Ultimate Spiritual Purpose

Chapter Five   Distraction as a Strategy

Chapter Six   Mindfulness as a Competing Strategy

Chapter Seven   Spiritual Technology: Mindfulness 101

Chapter Eight   Spiritual Technology: Mindfulness 202

Chapter Nine   Fear as Friend or Foe of Mindfulness

Chapter Ten   Pure Intention and Mindfulness

Chapter Eleven   The Scope of Pure Intention

Chapter Twelve   Mindfulness: Mine, Yours, Ours

Chapter Thirteen   Mindfulness as Gratitude

Chapter Fourteen   Presence as Coalescence

Final Dedication

THE VIRTUAL SELF:

BEYOND THE GAP IN BUDDHIST PHILOSOPHY

Preface

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Chapter 1   The Problem of Self Identity

Chapter 2   The Problem of Self Identity: the Limits of Perfection

Chapter 3   Identity as Abstraction

Chapter 4   The Self as Mirror Image

Chapter 5   The Ground as Radiant Space

Chapter 6   When the Self is Not a Thing

Chapter 7   Paying Attention to What is Important

Chapter 8   Introduction: Being Beyond the Limits of Self Nature

Chapter 9   The Effort of Being at Ease

Chapter 10   Ethics

Chapter 11   The Gap

Chapter 12   The Being at the Gap

Chapter 13   The Virtual Self

Chapter 14   Introduction to Sacred Space

Chapter 15   Sacred Space: Sense of Direction

Chapter 16   Sacred Space: Skirting the Gap

Chapter 17   Sacred Space: New Beginnings

Chapter 18   Sacred Space: Readiness

Chapter 19   Sacred Space: Fruition

Chapter 20   Sacred Space: The Present as Benefactor

Epilogue A

Epilogue B

Afterword

THE TRANSLUCENT IMAGINATION

Preface

Introduction

Chapter I   The Translucent Imagination

Chapter II   The Method of the Translucent Imagination

Chapter III   The This Way or That Dilemma

Chapter IV   Overcoming Distraction

Chapter V   The Participatory Imagination

Chapter VI   Apart vs. A Part

Chapter VII   Interlude: Pilgrimage as Paradigm

Chapter VIII   The Poverty of the Reflective Imagination

Chapter IX   What Comes Next

Chapter X   Celestial Space vs. Sacred Space

Chapter XI   The Bodhisattva Points the Way

Chapter XII   And a Child Shall Lead Them

Chapter XIII   The Virtual Self

Chapter XIV   Blinded by the Light

Epilogue

DYING TO BE REBORN:

SIMILARITIES AND PARALLELS BETWEEN

THE BIRTH AND DEATH PROCESS.

Preface

Introduction

Chapter One   Infancy Adjustments Here and Hereafter

Chapter Two   Divestiture

Chapter Three   Some Misconceptions About the Afterlife

Chapter Four   The Learning Curve of Adjustments in the Afterlife

Chapter Five   The Downside of the Learning Curve

Chapter Six   Soul Food

Chapter Seven   The Wisdom of Emptiness

Chapter Eight   The Emptiness of Wisdom

Chapter Nine   The Wisdom of Emptiness Revisited

Chapter Ten   The Game of Life

Chapter Eleven   The Laughter of Children and the Wisdom of Emptiness

Afterword

Epilogue A

Epilogue B

REINCARNATION: A PASSAGE THROUGH TIME

Introduction

Chapter One   Two Opposing Positions

Chapter Two   The Artifice of Time

Chapter Three   The Politics of the Soul

Chapter Four   Dispositional Space: the Temporal Distension of the Present Moment

Chapter Five   Finding Timelessness Through Innocence

Chapter Six   The Unique Timelessness of the Human Soul

Chapter Seven   The Crack in our Picture of Heaven

Chapter Eight   The Soul as Spirit-in-Matter

Chapter Nine   The Hardest Habit of All

Chapter Ten   The Virtual Self and the Passage Through Time

References to Chapters One to Ten

Final Dedication

For her caring and careful reading of my writing

this book is dedicated to my sister Judy.

Demystifying Mysticism:

Gratitude as Gift

This book is dedicated to all who aspire to a deeper relationship with the truth and spirit that lies just beneath the surface appearance of things.

Introduction

The great mystics of history are like the mountain tops of spirituality. Their lofty tops are often veiled in mist rising high above the clouds. Those of us with more than a curious interest in things of the Spirit offer them an acclaim which they don’t ask for or require. The brightness of their achievement is too bright to look at directly, and what we can look at, we see as through a filter. The filter protects our eyes from being blinded by their light, even though it is reflected light from the Divine Son. Protected, yes, but also unclear, we make up for what we can’t see clearly. The Superstar status of the Mystics—if you run in circles where spirituality is held in esteem beyond any game in town—is celebrated and given mythological status because it is not clearly understood.

This book is not about the Superstars of Mysticism. Rather it is about clarifying some of the confusion that is filtered down to us on the lower levels of God’s holy mountain. Everyone is moving somewhere, in one direction or another, on this mountain. This book is written for those who want to pick up the pace on their journey up the mountain. I call this subset of the upwardly mobile in spirit the mystically inclined.¹ Although the phrase is borrowed from a friend, those of you who take to the topics in this book will readily, I believe, own this description as apropos of your upwardly mobile spirit. You are definitely on the incline of the mountain. Mysticism is an honored, if vaguely understood, part of your spiritual heritage. The idea of demystifying mysticism appeals to you, since your inclination is always towards greater clarity. And, truth be told, if the situation was appropriate and the conversation turned towards these subjects, you might even own up to wanting to have some of whatever the Mystics were drinking that energized their life with such abundant spiritual vitality.

This book is, therefore, more like a primer in lower case mysticism. It offers information about what mysticism (not Mysticism) looks like when opened to view by those of us below the clouds on the mountain. This perspective also offers a spiritual technology designed to assist the mystically inclined in developing attitudes and habits that give added pace to one’s journey up the mountain. The readers I have in mind often find themselves sitting in the pew next to folks who look just like them, except they have no desire to match your inclined pace. Unlike you, they are perfectly OK with owning a spiritual status quo.

Although there are some concepts in this book that may be difficult, especially if you are meeting them for the first time, I have tried to keep the language simple and the presentation straight forward. Nevertheless, as we all know, easy to say is often hard to do. Even lower case mysticism is an achievement that requires considerable effort. The payoff is the gift of gratitude that you will come to know, both as giver and receiver, with every step you take up that holy mountain.

There is only one requirement that I ask of my readers. You must be willing to ask the kinds of questions that challenge the status quo. Real answers—those that have a vital impact on one’s life—come only to questions. Otherwise, what you read will probably just leave you with breeze-by information. Good questions lead to good answers; better questions to better answers, and the very best questions lead to superlatively good answers. These are the ones that impact life the most. So I ask the reader to entertain a lot of questions. My hope is that one or two will snag a really good life changing answer.

Chapter One

GET IN THE GAME

Any sport contest requires some preliminaries. Not least but absolutely fundamental is that the contestants show up. There is no game if there is a no-show. In the game of life, if there is the assumption that being alive fulfills the requirement of showing up, then it is our task in this chapter to question that assumption.

First, can we agree to use the metaphor game of life for the dash that symbolizes the course of life between the date of birth to one side and the date of death on the other? If calling life a game seems frivolous, then we ought to pause now and examine this label. Let’s consider an alternative. For example, the business of life is my job. Is the underlying root metaphor of economics more appealing and apt? Since so much of one’s life is either spent in school preparing for work, and then finding, keeping, succeeding, advancing and finally retiring from probably a lot of jobs, the argument for life as the business of work has a strong basis in fact. However, something equally fundamental as the need to work balks at the idea that work is the best way to essentialize the purpose or meaning of life. From my own experience, I can only report the following. As I was nearing retirement, I told everyone that it would take about 72 hours before I had forgotten, for all practical purposes, the job I did for the past 31 years. Actually, it only took 48 hours! Even though I really enjoyed my job and the challenges that it offered, when I finally stopped doing it I was staggered by the realization that life is not about work. Of course, I already believed this; and throughout a successful business career, I clearly distinguished between my identity as a sales professional and my identity as a human being. I worked to live; I didn’t live to work. Nevertheless, when the obligations of a work day relaxed, I was startled with a sense of spacious openness. My childhood before compulsory schooling came back to me with fresh memories of a freedom from any compulsories, except for showing up on time at meals with face and hands scrubbed. I took to calling this renewed spacious freedom my second childhood. I began to enjoy myself so much that I started to feel a little guilty. Was this guilt the last vestiges of a Catholic indoctrination, which if it didn’t directly foster guilt, canonized suffering as a path to holiness? Too much pleasure became indicative of not being serious about the imitation of Christ. Hence the guilt.

In addition to this religious upbringing, the Protestant work ethic was also in play. This I had to admit. God helps those who help themselves, and shows his favor in the material rewards of their successful enterprises. This ethic marries its pragmatic counterpart: work is what works. Americans are more thoroughly indoctrinated in the value of work than Catholics ever were in the merits of suffering. I had to acknowledge it was no mean accomplishment to preserve a felt distinction between my identity as a human being and my identity as a worker valued for his productive contribution to society.

In another place I discuss what I consider to be an artificial distinction between being and doing.² It is artificial because the qualities that the contemplative mind identifies and values in just being in the here-and-now also make their contribution in any pragmatic effort to just go do it and get things done that work. Conversely, the results-oriented characteristics of the pragmatic mind are actually also integral to the contemplative mind practicing a form of spiritual technology. This meditative mind state nets empirical results which manifest in behavioral changes of all sorts. It works to achieve very practical results.

Be that as it may, from an anecdotal survey of folks approaching retirement, my observation is that it is not uncommon to find that many people are nervous, skeptical, hesitant and even afraid of the prospect of stopping work. Of course, there may be real financial concerns that play into these defensive feelings. However, apart from that and seen clearly when financial security is not an issue, is a sense of personal loss. This loss has to do with one’s sense of self and identity. The doing of one’s work life has become so much a part of the being one takes to be oneself that the thought of not doing one’s work seems to equate with ceasing to be who one is. The business of life is my job shows its unappealing side when life itself seems not worth it without work.

Children at Play is a road sign advising us to be more alert and slow down. If the root metaphor of economics is not able to essentialize our deeper instincts for what life is all about, perhaps children at play is a viable alternative. Before a stubborn adult persona rejects this suggestion out of hand, consider some things Jesus had to say. Take, for example, the following Gospel passages: Lk. 10:21, Mt. 19:14, Mt. 18:1-5. In the first, seventy of his disciples have just joyfully returned from their first successful missionary outreach, and Jesus himself rejoices and gives thanks that power has been given to children and hidden from the wise and prudent. Jesus then concludes his acknowledgement of their good work by saying, Happy the eyes that see what you see. I tell you many prophets and kings wished to see what you see and never saw it, to hear what you hear and never heard it. (Lk. 10:23-24) In other words, there is something about childlike openness that permits the sight and hearing that results in true power.

In the second passage (Mt. 19:14), Jesus has to rebuke his disciples for trying to keep the children away; probably they were just trying to protect Jesus from being disturbed. Jesus said, Let them come… for such is the kingdom of heaven. And Luke makes the further point by having Jesus say that unless you receive the kingdom of God like a little child, in no way shall you enter it. (Lk. 18:17)

The third passage (Mt. 18:1-5) is the strongest yet regarding children and entrance into the kingdom. In answer to the disciples’ question about who is the greatest, Jesus set a child in their midst and said, Unless you turn around and become like little children, you shall not enter the kingdom of heaven.

What are we to conclude from this? While we may dispute the exact characteristics to prize as childlikeness and which to disdain as childishness, especially in adults, I think it is clear that Jesus was not touting the virtues of a work ethic nor the values of the doing approach of pragmatism.

At this point I would like to propose an hypothesis for the reader’s reflection and consideration, namely: people are most themselves when they achieve the seriousness of children at play. The Gospel writers tended to interpret the advent of the kingdom of heaven as a near event, but when it didn’t happen that way, the meaning of the kingdom had to be somewhat modified. With the approach of each millennial milestone, there are those who eagerly anticipate the end of days and the Lord of the kingdom appearing in the heavens. I am not working with such an interpretation. Rather, my interpretation aligns itself with Jesus’ message of life more abundant. I have come that you might have life and have it more abundantly (Jn. 10:10). This interpretation regards children at play as giving evidence of all the vital signs that adults also prize when life is abundant. The hypothesis suggests that people really come into their own when they drop their artifice and poses. So much of adult behavior is stiff and stylized by years of artificial posturing so as to win friends and influence people. Children at play are not poseurs; there is no cliché or artifice about them. This is partly why we find such delight in watching them at play. Their youthful innocence is provocative; it provokes something inside us to respond in kind. We sense the potential for life abundant that we see the children actually display.

We are naturally grateful for the witness of children at play. Without saying anything, they speak volumes. Their life energy and the melody of their laughter by-passes our conceptual codification for what life is all about. Let’s give a closer look to see why this witness to youthful innocence gives rise to such natural gratitude. Something deep inside us responds gratefully to such provocation. Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, was the witness Jesus gave. If greatness in the kingdom of abundant life is revealed by the child, perhaps we need to evaluate the evidence of the witness more carefully.

First, let’s begin with new beginnings. Children witness to the fact that the abundant life of youthful energy is characterized by new beginnings. Nature makes it a requirement. Children by nature have to make so many new beginnings daily that it becomes second nature to do so. Just think of all the things children begin to do for the first time that we now take for granted: walking, talking, small motor coordination, the alphabet, shapes and spatial recognition. All these and so many more take place within a social context where interaction with peers and adults is begun and new skills learned every day. When was the last time you challenged yourself to make a new beginning as formidable as any one of these? One of the secrets of the abundant life is new beginnings. Children are young not because they haven’t aged yet. They are young because they are youthful; that is, they are full of the youthful zest which makes new beginnings second nature to them.

A classic little book by Suzuki Roshi called Zen Mind, Beginners Mind captures this trait and promotes the practice of zen meditation as a way for adults to recapture it. The beginner’s mind is not burdened with old baggage: Been there, done that. Children must face challenges for the first time; if they feel fear, it is because of an unknown. Adults need to bring adult capabilities to the beginner’s mind; their fear ought to be in response to the question, So, what’s new? when all they can say is Same ole, same ole. The real fear that adults ought to face down is not the unknown, but the known, that which we think we know so well that there is nothing new about it. The challenge adults face is that the gate to the kingdom of abundant life seems locked. The gate only appears to be locked when the now is not new. A line from Suzuki Roshi’s book captures the adult dilemma this way. In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s there are few.

Children at play are characterized by spontaneity, creativity and joy. Implicit in this combination is also a desire to share, if not always in the play itself, then in recounting the playful activity to another later. When these components unite in any given activity, there is a for itself quality that requires no outside justification and expects none. The evidence for this is in the complete satisfaction one feels, whether child or adult, during and after. By contrast, imagine any activity billed or promoted as play, but which has any of the above qualities missing. Then what you have may be extolled or justified for any number of its inherent or consequential benefits, but it is not the natural play of children. What is absent from the natural play of children is negative competition and hostile aggression. Notice the absence of these qualities whenever people, young or old, are engaged in natural play. The artifices of self promotion, characterized by dominance and the premium placed on winning, relax in a moment that often has a timeless quality. When the energy of spontaneity and creativity are at play without aggressive or hostile competition, one can readily experience this timeless quality. At play it is easy to be in the timeless quality of the now. The beginner’s mind is readily able to find something new once the adult habits of negative competition and hostile aggressiveness are allowed to relax.

Play is the work of children; it is serious business, demanding, challenging, exhausting. It is also filled with abundant life that is both the key to the gate of the kingdom as well as evidence of being already inside.

Perhaps the reader is ready now to make a judgment about our hypothesis: adults are most themselves when they achieve the seriousness of children at play. If you can find evidence in your own experience to verify this hypothesis, perhaps then we can reconsider our game of life metaphor. Life is the game that challenges us to find the key to abundance. The paradox is that children own less but have more of this abundance. To get in the game of life requires that we first show up. Children at play witness to something essential about what it means to really show up. When the game is played with spontaneity, creativity and joy these are all the ingredients that any adult requires to be serious about coming into a life more abundant. Let’s get in the game by beginning at the beginning, playing with the seriousness of children at play.

Chapter Two

THE GIFT OF NEW BEGINNINGS

Perhaps it is not a shock to learn how much we rely on our memory and personal history for mental stability and orientation in the world. A short bout of amnesia would be a shock, but the idea that memory is crucial to our identity is not. Only when we start to have those occasional lapses of memory—what did I come into the kitchen for?—do we reflect on how much trust we place in the sharp accuracy of memory. Maybe we even have thought that a prodigious memory would be a great blessing; we could really ace those game shows like Jeopardy. And taking it to the limit, how might we make use of an eidetic memory—photographic recall of everything ever seen, heard or read—to better our social and financial standing! Recall, however, that when asked about the key to the kingdom of heaven, Jesus didn’t summon an aged savant with a prodigious memory; he brought a child into their midst. Children are short on memories but long on possibilities. If it seems that loss of memory would be catastrophic, think about not being able to begin anything new. What if you were locked in a kind of perpetual Groundhog Day from which there was no escape because there was only the past and the repetition of it?

The Buddha tells a story that I want to adapt for purposes of this chapter. In his version, people are taken to an island where jewels of all kinds are plentiful, in plain sight, and free for the taking. They are told that the boat to pick them up can return at any time; it doesn’t run on schedule. When it does come, they may take on board whatever jewels they can carry; and the jewels are theirs to keep. At first, the people are like children on an Easter egg hunt, pocketing and setting aside all the jewels they can find. But when days and months go by without the boat returning—since the jewels are so plentiful, more than enough for everyone—the people lose interest and direct their attention to other aspects of life on the island. After some time, the boat reappears without warning and the whistle signals immediate departure. Imagine the mad scramble as each person tries to locate the stash they have squirreled away somewhere. Wearing only shorts, perhaps, there are few pockets to fill plus one’s hands to carry away the jewels. Once on board, imagine your family gathers and is aghast to learn that Uncle Joe has returned without even one jewel. He spent his time on the island like he always does back home; he broods about how life has treated him so unfairly. But Joe, they say, you missed your chance to turn your life around. It was there for the taking. What were you thinking!?

In the Buddha’s version, this story is told in the context of a three fold Dharma teaching. 1) The working basis of your body will certainly die. 2) We have no knowledge of when death will occur. 3) Since nothing counter to the virtuous practice of the Dharma will be of any benefit when we do die, we should reinforce our resolve to practice in a virtuous manner swiftly. The island is the golden opportunity presented by being alive as a human being. The sudden return of the boat is death. The jewels you take are the virtues practiced over a lifetime.

In my adaptation, I want at least one of the jewels to represent new beginnings. Without the ability to make new beginnings, even precious stones become like a Midas curse. Midas couldn’t escape from making everything he touched turn to gold. It only seems great until there is no dewy green grass underfoot, only small knife-like slivers that slice at your feet. The wonderful variation of tree trunks and leaves becomes the monotony of identical gold leaf. One golden apple, yes, but when the color and taste of every fruit and vegetable is gold—there is a gag that comes out of one’s mouth, but it’s just not funny. New beginnings are the antidote to the potential curse of a prodigious memory. We probably all know or have met someone like Uncle Joe. His prodigious memory is not his curse; rather he is stuck in a memory loop of his own making; and the ride he is on is not one you’d pay for at an amusement park. There is nothing amusing about Joe’s returning to the boat empty handed, without even one jewel to show for his time on the island.

When my wife and I were thinking about having children, I asked myself a serious question. Why do this? Perhaps because I had been a teacher and have always been an avid student, the answer that resonated most with me was because there is much that these kids will be able to teach me. Parenting is nothing if not a learning process, and I truly believe my children have taught me at least as much as I have taught them.

Children have so much to teach each of us, and the gift that I want to acknowledge in this chapter is their demonstration of how to make new beginnings. We began this topic last chapter discussing children at play. There I said that the challenge adults face is that the gate to the kingdom seems to be locked, but it only appears locked when the now is not new. The jewel that we can pick up from watching children is their ability to be present in the now as a new beginning.

Let’s be clear that I am not romanticizing children in the abstract. In no way are they models of zen meditation. Zen is a corrective for the adult crust of stale habit that has clouded perception. Children, of course, can be manic, and though this is less characteristic, they also get bored. What attracts our adult attention, and is one of the things we find so attractive about children, is their ability to engage. Let’s hold in sad reserve the exceptions: the hollow-eyed children from war zones or the almost reptilian stare of child soldiers, urban street survivors or those about to succumb to starvation. Fortunately, there is still a very large center range on the child spectrum where the manic or bored are at one extreme and the war-torn or hunger-ravaged are at the other. Let’s focus on the kids on your mantle piece or your sister’s rogues’ gallery. What is so engaging about children at play is that it’s not boring to watch them be so seriously engaged. Why is this? With adults, the so-so serious are often the so-so boring. The seriousness of children at play reveals the novelty of nature at work. It is almost like watching time lapse photography. We see the flower of childhood unfolding right before our eyes. The blocks are being stacked to new heights; the tea party table is set for new guests; the train track is laid down with fresh inventiveness. Half an hour later for the boys—probably longer for the girls—they’re engaged with equal energy and intensity in something else. Tomorrow the blocks will go still higher; the tea party will invite new guests, and the train track will make daring arabesques that will amaze even a civil engineer.

The energy of youth is provocative; it provokes the feeling of being fresh and new in adults. We watch—or get down on the floor when asked—and feel the simple blessing of the present moment. Children at play give adults the gift of now. How wonderfully renewed it feels to be momentarily in the simple sunshine of the present, freed from the clouds that darken our past and the storms that threaten our future. Children at play slip past crusty adult defenses and give us a taste of vital signs being renewed in spite of ourselves.

If you have ever been totally enthralled and perfectly at peace watching children at play, don’t let anyone tell you that you have never had a mystical moment. If one of the things we reverence about mystics is their ability to enter and enjoy sacred space, give yourself a little credit now. If our religious tradition has exposed us at all to the spirituality of the mystics, chances are we regard them as on the fringes of religious practice; and no question, we place them on the far edges of normal human experience. So it’s time for a little reality check. On the one hand, the mystics are far out. On the other hand, children at play have given you an experience of sacred space close up. It’s a wonderful conundrum to realize you’ve been somewhere that you’d swear you’d never been. The demystification of mysticism is going to be just like that: finding the extraordinary in the ordinary. Or rather, we realize that the perceptual mistake was to consider it ordinary in the first place.

In his little book, The Doors of Perception, Aldous Huxley quotes William Blake saying, If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is, infinite.³ Huxley went on to report his fresh and new perceptual experiences during a guided mescaline drug trip.

The experience awakened him to the adult obfuscation that was the usual filter on his perception. We don’t need a drug trip to come to this same awakening. However, even as ordinary grit and grime won’t come clean without some serious scrubbing, so the doors of perception to the extraordinary in the ordinary won’t clear without some effort. But you know how it is with a really filthy glass door. The first cleaning inspires a second once the view to the outside comes into focus. Then the afternoon sun makes the last smudges show up, and we are charmed by the results of our third effort.

The demystification of mysticism will be a process of revealing how our adult filters make us misperceive the mystical jewels right at hand and regard them as merely the common place shards of ordinary experience. Gratitude will arise as both a natural response to this extraordinary gift, but more than giving thanks, gratitude will give us the key to go deeper. Gratitude is the key to clearing the doors of perception so as to be able to make the new beginning which sees the now as the doorway to the infinite. There is nothing more mystical than that!

Chapter Three

MORNING OR MOURNING

The mourning dove sings a plaintive dactyl—long, short-short. For the longest time, however, I imagined I was hearing a hoot owl, and when someone corrected my mistake, I felt a little let down, even betrayed. All those bright, clear mornings whose signature was this song, and I misperceived the author. It seemed like an artificial shift of allegiance; I loved the image of the wise old owl, but the dove was, well, sweet but dumb.

Such a trifle of memory; get over it, Bob. Gradually I did replace the mistaken owl memory with the corrected image of the mourning dove. I had made my own little mythological tableau out of a past memory, and now I had to clean it up based on better information. A contemporary folk singer, Alanis Morissette, has a folksy way of putting it. She says, I think of the past as a little sister, I love her—but she could benefit from a couple more showers.⁴ Apparently it was more than the memories of her home life that could benefit from a little clean up.

The point is that we get attached to our version of the past. Over time we do a kind of photoshop on our memories until it’s not so much what really did happen that’s important as the effect the memory continues to have on us. Historians point out the way our collective memory has mythologized the Pilgrims, especially the event that we now celebrate as Thanksgiving. Scripture scholars similarly point out the mythological tableau that we have created around the Nativity of Jesus. The details have now been so lovingly composed that the true meaning of Christmas, according to Bart Erhman, professor of religious studies at the University of North Carolina, lies not in what really did happen, but in what really does happen in the lives of those who believe that stories such as these can convey a greater truth.⁵ Perhaps I would have been better served not knowing it was a dove; the image of an owl out of sight added such a magical note to those springtime mornings of childhood, especially now that I know it’s a mourning dove and not a morning dove.

Since our discussion of the demystification of mysticism has begun with a consideration of the new beginnings that are natural to children, let’s segue to morning as a repetitive new beginning available to adults each day.

Maybe you can mentally add the melody to Cat Stevens’ song, Morning Has Broken. The first stanza reads:

"Morning has broken like the first morning

Blackbird has spoken like the first bird.

Praise for them singing, praise for the morning,

Praise for them springing, fresh from the world."⁶

Realistically, now, unless you are in bed waking up beside a new first love or anticipating your first day on a much sought after new job, your morning wake up probably does not have such a lyrical accompaniment. It’s rather waking up next to the person you’ve been married to for thirty years—or ten that feels like thirty. It’s waking up to the job you secretly wish a pink slip would give you an excuse to leave. Or maybe it’s worse than that. Perhaps you imagine your marriage or your job is about to be terminated, but the reality is your doctor has just told you that you have a terminal disease. Then it’s mourning has broken . . . and let’s see you make a mystical moment out of that!

The point of this chapter is to introduce a discussion that the influence of myth vs. reality has upon the creation of a mystical moment. The sober truth is that Cat Stevens’ mythical rendition does not correspond to your morning reality, although it’s so beautiful that you wish it could. So let’s focus on the truth of the situation—not the blackbird speaking like Eden’s first bird, but the mourning dove’s sad lament. If you are waking up to a terminal prospect of some kind, notice your change of focus. Without any practice of zen, your attention to the moment is a lot more focused. Yes, you admit, but I’d rather be distracted. My present situation is a bitch.

Recall what was so provocative about children at play. Their total engagement in the activity of the moment provokes a quickening of life energy and vitality in us; that is, if we have also allowed our own focus to be totally engaged in their play. Distraction dissipates vitality. If the I’d rather be… mantra is looping through our brain—its silent siren song calling us to be somewhere else—then we’ll miss the vital gift of the moment. Well, ok, you say, but it’s hardly fair to compare my present bitch of a situation with the observation of children at play. That’s true, the situations are very different, but the focus—or lack of it—is the same.

So, what’s the good of being so focused if what I’m focusing on is a bitch? The point of focus, in our discussion right now, is the focus itself; that is, the presence-to-itself of awareness in a heightened mode. The energy of this unusual focus is not to be wasted, and it will be a distracted waste if it is used in a querulous search for the answer to Why is this happening to me? The focused energy will also be wasted if it is used to produce a variety of negative scenarios run out into the future. The myth is that mucking around in the past or imagining hypothetical futures, even benign future scenarios, is the best way to use this moment of focused energy. It’s not. The reality is you’re here because this is where you are. The mystics are those who can buy into a deeper than surface truth because they are willing to pay attention to the truth of the moment. The truth of the moment is your focused attention in the present. Pay close attention and rest in it. The reality of the moment—whatever the evidence appears to be that is causing your distress—is also changing. The nature of impermanence guarantees this change. The question really is what is the best way to deal with what is happening; and to answer that question you must first be truly present to what is happening. Be still and know that I am the Lord, is the advice of the psalmist.⁷ I would like to add a small punctuation mark: Be still and know that I am, the Lord. The comma is the pause; the Lord is suggesting that you pause and become quiet, still and attentive to your deepest being. The suggestion is that in the power of the now, your deepest being reveals itself; that is, if you can let go of all the conceptual mucky-muck that takes the mind into the past or tripping into the future.

The mystics have paid their dues. The price of entry into the power of the now is to pay attention to what is, surrendering for the moment all the conceptual distractions that create the con of the I’d rather be… syndrome. This con has never worked, but somehow we keep believing it will. What hasn’t been tried is complete attention to the focus in the moment. Test it. Try it out. Make proof of it in your own experience. The mystic suggests that the power of the now is the power of the I AM. The power of the Lord is present in the I AM of your simple focused attention. Absent distraction, your mind can be non dual with that power. The focused attention, like the total engagement of children at play, is a tap into the wellspring of infinite possibilities. For the moment, your focused attention has cleansed the doors of your perception. The I AM of infinite possibilities is simply making itself available to you. How will you know what new beginnings may come, if you don’t really just pay attention to the point where fresh new beginnings get their start?

The demystification of mysticism in this instance is the realization that when morning breaks with the distress of something perceived as terminal, there is the gift of focused attention. We miss it; the mystic doesn’t. The universe pulls everyone up short. Suddenly the trust we placed in the status quo proves untrustworthy. We gave our reliance to something that could not support the weight. In the moment of collapse, our attention gets focused. So ordinary. Nothing mystical about it, but like a gift that goes unappreciated, we scramble to hold on to the next best thing. The best thing is the privileged moment of focused attention that can put us in non dual contact with the I AM of infinite possibilities. We scramble to reassemble the shards of a life in apparent collapse, and overlook the jewel that is the key to new beginnings.

The reliance of the mystic on the power of now is not a matter of faith. There are no authority figures who give their imprimatur, their seal of approval, to a text that asserts this is the way it is, and so it must be believed.

The verification of the power of the now is for each person to test and prove or disprove. The mystic experience is demystified once it is brought down to a level that everyone can make proof of in their own experience. Everything changes, sometimes suddenly. The universe appears to give sometimes and then take away. What the mystic perceives is the hidden gift in the take-away. Except it’s not hidden. It just goes unnoticed. Willy-nilly, we are all being schooled by life experiences. The universe invites us not to take notes, but just take notice.

Chapter Four

CHANGE IT UP

One of our well meaning but misguided myths is the New Year’s resolution. The liquor, the conviviality and the artifice that makes a big deal of the separation of one year from the next—all these conspire to create the context where major changes seem plausible and realistic. However, research is beginning to conclude what many of us have long suspected, namely, the New Year’s resolution amounts to not much more than a silly game adults play. I say not much more because often there is genuine motivation and intent to kick start an effort, but these fade, and we are fortunate if the residue is nothing more than a sour aftertaste. It turns out that science is verifying the truth of homely wisdom; it’s not a good idea to bite off more than you can chew. It turns out that Mom spoke more truth than she knew saying, Take small bites and chew them well. You’ll enjoy your food more and have better digestion. Psychologists studying the abysmal lack of follow through on most New Year’s resolutions are now saying pretty much the same thing as Mom. Begin with small efforts, something your adult mind might even dismiss as childish. Then be consistent because you can be—your resolution requiring so little time and effort. Having established this modest base, you can proceed without being dogged by frustration and guilt. You’re in the game at least. It may not even be up to organized sandlot standards yet, but at least you’re not in the bleachers or just pacing the sidelines. The myth is: New Year, Big Deal; let’s do it Big. The reality is: new year, no big deal; let’s start small, but begin something that has legs, even if they’re only childlike legs.

In the last chapter, we woke up one morning with a terminal disease that jolted our awareness into focus. Today, let’s wake up to an ordinary day, not even New Year’s Day. Let’s imagine New Year’s is behind us, but we’ve got a little habit pattern started of first remembering and then being consistent doing the modest little effort at something new. However, the novelty is beginning to wear off. We sometimes forget, and we excuse our forgetfulness. The new thing was no big deal, remember? We’re starting to groove in an adult rut and taking it for granted. Boring, but hey, who said life was an amusement park or even a kid’s playground? Our mystic moment of intense focus has wandered off and gotten dissipated in the shallows. Nobody can accuse me of not being consistent though. Everyday, if it’s not like clockwork, at least you can see I’m working my plan. That plan is like second nature to me now, I’m so consistent… except for those occasional moments of forgetfulness. But somewhere in the back of my mind I’m bothered by a voice that repeats something I once heard about consistency being the hobgoblin of small minds. You had me thinking the mystic mind might not be such a big deal after all. You introduced children as somehow emblematic of the focused perception of the mystic, but it was a childlike mind, not a small mind, that was the key to the kingdom. Help! I’m drowning in the shallows!

If we have become OK with starting small, let’s begin with the small stuff of an ordinary morning. Remember, the key is the focus; the lock is the inattention of mindless distraction that goes unnoticed. Which hand do you brush your teeth with? If you’re right-handed, it’s probably always with the right hand. Brush with your left hand and see what happens. Just notice all the feelings that awaken. Of course, there’s some irritation and frustration. Just notice. How much concentration it takes! That’s focus, folks. What happened to the mindless distraction that went unnoticed? You actually would prefer to brush right-handed, right? You can, because you have a right hand to go back to. What if you were a Vet having lost your right arm from an IED in Iraq? Not even a prosthesis can do the small motor movement we take for granted. The key of new focus is in the lock. What happens when you turn the key? Gratitude. How amazing I have this right hand to brush my teeth with. I am grateful. Focus now. The focused energy of thanksgiving ought not to be allowed to dissipate like smoke into the air. Perhaps you’ve been stingy towards your right hand? Simone Weil once said, Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.⁸ Pay that right hand some focused attention now and put the energy of gratitude into every bone, sinew, nerve and joint. Just be grateful. You’ve just established a wonderful new relationship with a part of your body. How many times today can you notice your right hand with mindfulness? How many times can this focused attention unlock the gate to the garden of gratitude? Recall the words of Meister Eckhart that if thanks were the only prayer you said in an entire life, it would suffice; and also recall its connection with Jesus’ counsel to pray always.⁹ Not to apologize for the pun, but perhaps you never thought prayer could be so handy. The attitude of gratitude can become as second nature as the mindful use of your right hand. That would be a small but singular start to learning how to pray always.

So here’s a suggestion for a simple new beginning each morning that provokes fresh focus. Take anything that you’ve come to take for granted, and take it out of that granite block it’s been chiseled in. Just change it up.

For example, you probably always shower washing the same body parts first; start at the end and come back to your usual first. Do you always shave starting on the left side and working right or applying your cosmetics in the same order? Reverse the process. Just this little shift in focus puts a crowbar in the gears of monotonous mechanicality. Mysticism is not mechanical. It is not rote and constricted by routine. It has the fresh feeling of what is naturally fresh and new.

The Buddha, so the story goes, was gradually persuaded to leave the solitude of the forest and teach the method which leads to enlightenment. When he at first resisted, he was lobbied hard to proceed by being reminded that there were those who only had a little dust in their eyes. The doors of their perception could be wiped clean if only they were shown how to clean the dust out of their eyes. Rote perception and mechanical behavior patterns (habit patterns that just go through the motions taking everything for granted) are that dust. Actually, when the dust becomes toxic, they are more like psychological demons. One demon would have you believe that mysticism is some arcane pursuit practiced on the outer fringes of a given religious tradition, like being able to walk on hot coals or whirl like a dervish. That demon is merely an aspect of the con master who inhabits the castle of self nature. It has no interest in a focused attention that pierces the surface of things. On the contrary, its self promotional interests are aided and abetted by distraction and minimal attention. It would much prefer that rote behavior and mechanical habit patterns not be challenged in any way.

The mechanical habit patterns embedded in the promotional interests of self nature are not inclined to surrender their hold. Change at that level requires effort, and effort requires focused attention which is contrary to the path-of-least-resistance strategy of the con master in the castle of self nature.

Anyone who tries to make even these small changes in a morning routine will quickly have to acknowledge this demon. The first obstacle is not even the effort to be consistent. The first obstacle is remembering to remember to remember. Forgetfulness is the first cousin to distraction. They were raised in the same permissive family where focused attention and mindfulness practice were replaced by… well, whatever.

Among many other things, demystifying mysticism requires pest control. In this case, the pest is the monkey of the mind. Meditative traditions don’t call it monkey mind because of the mind’s ability to be quiet and still like a mongoose facing down a cobra. Monkey antics are funny at the zoo, but not when you’ve got one caged up in your mind. Practicing the simple yet profound arts of the mystic requires remembering to remember to remember. There is no better or worse about forgetfulness. It isn’t graded on the curve. Either you remember to do something or you don’t. If you forget, the only remedy is to remember next time. Fortunately, there are usually many next times to do something differently because not just our morning but our entire day is a web work of embedded habits. So you forgot to reverse the order of your shaving or your make-up ritual. Try your socks and shoes. First just remember to notice your typical habit pattern; then change it up and just notice how your focus changes.

The morning mystic practice could become a ritual like this. 1) Remember to remember… to notice a habit pattern. 2) Change it up and just notice how your focus changes. 3) Be grateful for the gift.

Gratitude for the gift needs a fuller explanation. Say you’ve just put a deep cut in the tip of your thumb with a paring knife. Hurts like hell, bleeds even worse, but is not serious enough to require stitches. You squeeze it with a towel, gauze it, and tape it. How awkward many hand functions are that day without just the full use of your thumb. After several days, the bandage comes off; your thumb has healed, but are you grateful? Do you think: I still have a thumb! If my slight carelessness had happened around a table saw, I might not have a thumb. Thanks to all the healing properties in my body that cooperated to fix the wound. Perhaps that dish towel was none too sanitary. I could have been infected but I wasn’t. How do people manage who have lost a digit or three? Even though I feel some stiffness coming on in that hand—probably age but I hope it’s not arthritis—I can still make use of that opposable thumb in more than a thousand ways. Here’s an exercise for the next time I can spare the time: literally start enumerating—pad and pen in hand—all the different ways my thumb gives me benefit everyday. And because I’ve remembered to put it at the top of my notice pad, each item will be regarded as a gift that I’m grateful for.

The idea is that we start small, doing easy little things, in a slow, gradual but consistent effort to chisel away at the granite block of what we take for granted. With a fresh focused attention, the attitude of gratitude naturally develops. Slowly but surely we will see that the gift of gratitude naturally arises from the effort of fresh focused attention. The habit of gratitude then becomes key to clearing the dust from the doors of perception. And once that happens, the deeper worlds of mystic perception that lie just beneath the surface reality are open for exploration and enjoyment.

Chapter Five

DO YOU BELIEVE IN GRACE?

One of the fundamental assumptions I have in writing this book is that mysticism is not a matter of belief. Let me be clear: mystic perception does not require a codification of doctrine or dogma. In other words, the cornerstone of mystic perception is not necessarily a credo. Take, for example, the Nicene Creed. Originally drafted in the early 4th century at the behest of Emperor Constantine, its exact formulation was subsequently modified to accurately reflect the winners in a contest between hostile factions. The winners became the orthodox believers; the losers were the outcast Arian heretics. The Nicene Creed, as it is recited today at Mass, is the basic text around which Catholic Christians unite. Solidarity as a community of believers is founded on the acceptance of the Nicene Creed’s formula as a statement of the beliefs Catholics hold as true. Mystics may or may not hold to such a cornerstone. Be they Catholic, Protestant, Jew, Sufi, Hindu, a creedal statement may or may not be foundational; and even if it is, mysticism nevertheless is still not a matter of belief.

However, there is a foundation in belief which even mystics cannot escape. For that matter, neither can scientific materialists, agnostics or atheists. In this sense, beliefs are fundamental assumptions that inform consciousness as it looks out upon the world. We all live in the same world, sharing enough of its similarities to get by and make sense when interacting with each other. But just below this surface sameness, how each of us actually experiences the world is vastly different. Consciousness creates this formal difference, and beliefs shape consciousness. These beliefs are not creedal statements; most individuals could not formulate them even if pressed to do so. Nevertheless, they create the outlook and fundamental context in which an individual’s consciousness operates.

For example, it seems to me that everyone implicitly adopts one of two metaphysical world views. Either 1) All Is Well, or 2) All Is Not Well.

Metaphysical world views is just another way of identifying those fundamental assumptions and beliefs that inform an individual’s consciousness as it looks out on its world. In moments of sober lucidity, the first might be articulated this way:

1) The structure underlying the world of appearances is benign and benevolent. However conceived, it has the individual’s best interests at heart. When things don’t go well, the negative aspect of appearances may have absorbed one’s focus but the benign intent is not belied by the appearances. Given time and an open mind, things will come into a new focus which once more confirms the benign structure and benevolent intent beneath the appearances. All Is Well and always has been. Appearances to the contrary notwithstanding, nothing has changed except one’s ability to see and accept it.

The second world view which opposes the first might be stated thus:

2) The structure underlying the world of appearances is neutral at best but might actually be hostile, even malevolent. The force of historical circumstances is chaotic without purpose or pattern. Any period of well being arising out of the blind impermanence of things is only momentary. There is no benevolent intent beneath the surface of things because the surface is all there is. Sometimes the surface is calm, sometimes tumultuous—events might resemble ocean waves except there is no benign structure in their silent depths. All Is Not Well.

There may be no philosophical argument that can resolve or reconcile these opposing points of view. This may be just one of those fundamental alternatives where cerebral elucidation in the end just yields to temperamental preference. To give the readers a chance to reflect on which of these opposing views might be operative in their own consciousness, I want to quote from a friend’s poem titled, Cramped or Spacious.

"If you want but a single question

the answer to which more than anything else

will reveal the kind of universe—

cramped or spacious,

menacing or friendly—

in which you live and move and have your being,

ask yourself if you believe

in any kind of gracing."¹⁰

It would surprise me to learn that there has ever been a mystic who had a grim, dark, negative outlook toward life and its meaning. If you picked up this book and have read this far, I suspect you are, at least, among the mystically inclined. The reader may have noticed that when I listed the possible religious affiliations of a mystic that I didn’t mention Buddhism. It is an interesting topic to explore why, technically speaking, Buddhism can escape the classification of being called a religion. At the moment, I draw the distinction based on creedal statements. Religions formulate creedal statements that aim to capture the truth of what the community of believers holds in common. Buddhism has no such creedal statements. Allegiance to the truth of a creedal formula is not what makes a person a member of the Buddhist community. Again, this does not imply that Buddhists have no beliefs, especially those foundational beliefs that structure an outlook or world view.

Buddhists don’t have a doctrine about grace, as some religions do. The Catholic Church, for example, has a long history, dating from the 4th century, of trying to give adequate articulation to the meaning, efficacy and delivery of grace. The doctrine of grace in both the Catholic and Protestant churches arises because of the view that, since the fall of man from his natural state of grace in Eden, he is now, more or less, naturally depraved, that is, deserving of damnation without the assistance of grace. And thereby hangs the long tale of theological controversy. It originated with Tertullian and was given its most radical formulation by Augustine. Since that time, debate and controversy and heretical denunciations have created the basis for an extensive theology of the doctrine of grace.¹¹

Do you believe in grace? is the title to this chapter. I’m inclined to believe that most people’s answer to that question would not be informed by familiarity with the controversies and currently acceptable formulations of the doctrine of grace. The answer would rather spring from experience, probably very specific experiences that could even be dated. Belief in grace