Monday, July 08, 2024

 

           

                                                         The Emerald Buddha

 

Edna Leana and I entered and found our way to a vacant place on the floor. Some monks came in and knelt a few feet in front of us. They carried with them offerings of flowers, undoubtedly from devotees, and they prayed and meditated as well. As is my habit in such situations, I closed my eyes and attempted to establish a state of inner silence in order to be open to the very powerful energy of the temple. Edna Leana and I sat for perhaps an hour, during which time I began to feel that it was the distance of the Emerald Buddha from the activity below that gave this Wat its unique experience. From his height, which for me is synonymous with his state of consciousness, he seemed absorbed in that state of absolute Reality and consciousness where all creation is non-existent. Below him, people were respectful or not—one woman walked around talking on her cell phone. But to the Emerald Buddha none of it seemed to matter because he was not conscious of any of it. It led me to consider the question, what, if anything, really does matter?

 Viewed from the perspective that in the end, when the final goal is attained and only eternal reality exists, then how important really is all this, i.e. all that the world holds so dear, all the distinctions we make and the significance we place on things, all of our strivings, good or bad, high or low, righteous or lewd? Sitting in this Wat, I tried to fathom the Beyond State of Divine Vacuum the Buddha called Nirvana. I remember that Gurdjieff once said something to the effect that, “He who takes everything seriously cannot be very serious.” Perhaps my contemplation creates a perspective to his simple remark? 

                                                        

 

                                                                 The Emerald Buddha 

                                                         (In Nirvikalpa Samadhi)

                                                                                                          By Michael Kovitz 

 Birth and breath,

Life and death,

The sacred and the mundane,

 

Joys and sorrows,

Good and bad,

Curses and prayers,

Pass beneath you —

 

I look up to glimpse you

Ensconced in your heavenly tower.

I wonder: When you see only everything,

Does this everything include nothing?

 

I close my eyes and watch my thoughts,

Does any of it really matter?

 

Your presence beyond reminds me,

My world is dust crumbling into dust —

I contemplate,

What is seeing everything without seeing nothing?

 

 

 

                                                                                                © copyright 2006 Michael Kovitz

 

    

 

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Monday, December 25, 2023

The Harper

 

In his Masnavi, Rumi tells the story of the harper. The harper was a musician with a beautiful voice, “sweet as that of the angel Israfil.” He was, therefore, very successful and sought after by many to perform at feasts, festivals, and all manner of special occasions. But over time and with age, his voice lost its charm, and no one would employ him.

In despair and hoping for relief, he went to the burial grounds to play his harp for God. When he finished playing, he fell asleep and had a dream that he was in heaven. At the same time a divine voice spoke to the Khalifa Omar.[1]

The voice told Omar to go to the burial ground where he would find an old man and to assist him. Omar went to the burial ground, found the old man, and gave him money promising that he would always have more when it was needed. With that, the old man cast away his harp, saying that it had diverted him from God, and expressed great contrition for his past sins.

But Omar corrected him, telling him that his worldly journey was now over and that he should not give way to contrition for the past as he had now entered into the state of ecstasy and intoxication of union with God, and in this exalted state regard to past and future should be swept away.

At this point the story ends, but not really, and another begins, the story of Mustafa. This is very common to the Masnavi. Rumi often enters correctives in the form of tangents, deflections, and contradictions. I believe this is because Rumi is sensitive to the fact that when truth is conveyed through a form, like a story or a parable or a discourse, etc., it becomes as if set in stone and over time becomes its own opposite.

It is also not uncommon to encounter in Rumi’s writing the technique of a story within a story. Who was Mustafa? It’s a common name in the Islamic world. It means the chosen one, and here it is in reference to the Prophet Muhammad and the night of his marriage to Safiyya. But Rumi is not speaking about worldly marriage for here, the bride is God, and the wedding night signifies Mustafa’s union with God. Likening this union to a blissful sleep, Mustafa’s morning prayers were put off till noon, and this brings up the question of fault, both Mustafa’s putting off of his prayers and Rumi’s for referring to God as a bride.

Rumi tells us as much when he says, “Impute it not as a fault if I call Him, ‘Bride,” to which the Beloved replies, “Speak on, tis fault only to him who sees faults. But how can the Pure Hidden Spirit notice faults? Faults seem so only to ignorant creatures, but not in the sight of the Lord of Benignity.”

Then, returning to the story of the Prophet, Rumi explains that God ‘sees’ differently than a common person and what appears a fault to man may be something quite different to God.

How can the Pure Hidden Spirit notice faults? Faults (may) seem so to ignorant creatures, but not in the sight of the Lord of Benignity. Blasphemy even may be wisdom in the Creator’s sight.”

Then quoting the sages, Rumi closes with, “’The bodies of the righteous are as pure souls.’ Their words, their actions, their praises, are all as a pure soul without spot or blemish.”

But the discussion is not yet finished, and this is where Rumi returns to the story of the harper, beautifully connecting it with the discussion of the Prophet’s wedding night and Rumi’s fault.

Remember how in the beginning, the Khalifa Omar, responding to the divine voice that spoke to him, relieved the harper of all his worldly difficulties and plunged him into the ultimate dream state of union with God? Awaking from the dream, the harper was filled with contrition for his past sins, but Omar reminded him that he was now free of his former self and that the past no longer existed for him.

“But Omar corrected him, telling him that his worldly journey was now over and that he should not give way to contrition for the past as he had now entered into the state of ecstasy and intoxication of union with God, and in this exalted state regard to past and future should be swept away.”

But apparently, the harper is unable or unwilling to comply with Omar’s correction and is unable or unwilling to give up his contrition. Now, in part two of the Harper’s Tale, Omar reminds him that “Past and future are what veil God from our sight. Burn up both of them with fire!” I’m reminded of a statement by Gurdjieff that the most difficult thing for a man to give up is his own suffering…

What follows is some of the most beautiful writing I have discovered in the Masnavi. Upon seeing the harper’s contrition as an act of ego that keeps him from union with God, Omar’s says,

“This wailing of yours shows that you are still in a state of sobriety which savors of memories past; past and future are what veil God from our sight, burn up both of them with fire.”

“While circumambulating the house you are a stranger, but when you enter the house, you are at home.”

“Oh, you who seek to be contrite for the past, how will you be contrite for this contrition?”

For those who are unfamiliar with Rumi, the Masnavi is divided into six different books—each with its own prologue. Thie prologue in Book I is the famous story of the reed flute and its complaints and lamentations for being pulled as a reed from it home in the reed bed.  

This plaint of the flute is fire, not air. Let him who lacks this fire be accounted dead! Tis the fire of love that inspires the flute, tis the ferment of love that possesses the wine.”

Rumi is speaking about the journey of the soul’s consciousness from unconsciousness to illusory consciousness, and from illusory consciousness to consciousness of Self. The state of illusory consciousness is what we call creation, the dream state of the soul in which the reed experiences having been pulled from the reed bed –the state of unconscious God.[2]

Now, in the Harper’s tale, speaking of the Harper’s inability to relinquish identification with the sense of otherness from God—from Self—Rumi revives the story of the reed flute.

How long will you be partitioned by these segments (of past and future) as a reed? So long as a reed has partitions, it is not privy to secrets, nor can it sing in response to lip and breathing.”

I believe that Omar is referring to a particular state of the soul in illusion when he reminds the harper that he must give up his identification with his former reed state and embrace his reed-flute state so that he may fully sing the song of the Soul. This state of the soul, this limbo, this junction, is something akin to what Gurdjieff use to call ‘sitting between two chairs.’ Sitting between two chairs is a very uncomfortable state. 

I have personally observed that this state manifests on the level of ordinary human consciousness in the expression of objective conscience. Objective conscience is the response to objective morality. Objective morality is the same as objective Truth. This conscience, this morality, is beyond and untouched by social mores and cultural distinction. It is not amenable to any form of outer coercion or convincing. This conscience, this morality, never argues, it just states the truth. But at times, for some individuals, it can be pushed so far down beneath the surface of awareness that the individual is barely aware of it. The purpose of this avoidance of conscience is the avoidance of pain. Conscience is often quite painful to the self, but not to the Self, and the Self being God, ultimately and always eventually breaks free and one becomes aware of choice.   

This state of sitting between two chairs manifests at the higher levels of human subtle and mental consciousness as well. It reaches its summit in what Meher Baba describes as the sixth plane of consciousness. The sixth plane is the final stage of consciousness before the ultimate state of God Realization—the seventh plane. Here, the individual consciousness sees God everywhere and in everything and yet does not see itself as God. This is the expression of duality at the highest level, the highest state of sitting between two chairs. Can you imagine? As Kabir said, “Until you experience it, it is not true.” And as impossible as it is to describe that state, how much more impossible would it be to describe the state of Union with God? Rumi concludes the story of the harper this way,

The heart of the harper was emancipated, and he was freed from weeping and rejoicing. His old life died, and he was regenerated, and amazement fell upon him for he was exalted above earth and heaven, an uplifting of the heart surpassing all uplifting. I cannot describe it—if you can, speak on.

“Ecstasy and words beyond all ecstatic words; Immersion in the Lord of Glory! Immersion from which there was no extrication—as it were identification with the Very Ocean.”

 



[1] Omar was Khalifa approximately in the 14th-15th Century. The title Khalifa has many meanings, but at the time it signified a divine leader—a Master).

 

[2] Another example of this same story is told in the Cole Porter song, Begin the Beguine.


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Wednesday, September 06, 2023

The Quest for Happiness

I sent this quote to a friend the other day. I felt that it was totally in keeping with the teaching of the Perfect Masters and Meher Baba. “But the whole point is to get pleasure and be able to keep it. Whoever can do this has nothing to learn. But the way to it is lies through suffering.” – G.I. Gurdjieff

My friend replied that he read it and shared it with his wife. He said that she would replace the word pleasure with joy. I too was somewhat ambivalent about Gurdjieff’s use of the word pleasure, though I understood that he was speaking at a particular time to a particular group of people. I asked my friend if he thought that the word happiness might be a good substitute. He replied that happiness was very consistent with Meher Baba’s teachings.

But whether we call it pleasure, joy, happiness, bliss, peace, etc., can we agree that if we look deep inside ourselves for the goal and motivator of the actions of our lives, that it is in fact the quest for this pleasure, joy, happiness, bliss, peace happiness?

I find everything in Gurdjieff’s statement significant. First, the qualification, “and to be able to keep it.” This is significant because it has been my experience that in life, nothing stays the same for very long. Moments of happiness, joy, bliss, etc. are fleeting, as are the moments of suffering that often follow.

There is a story I heard from Christopher Freemantle about the great King Solomon (a Perfect Master). People would come to him with their problems. He would listen but say nothing. He just sat there listening while slowly turning an ornate gold and jewel-encrusted ring around his finger.

There was one man who had come to him many times with his problems. They were indeed serious and weighty problems. As usual, King Solomon said nothing, just sat there turning the ring. One day the man could take the Master’s silence no longer and complained. Hearing the complaint King Solomon removed the ring from his finger and passed it to the man. Inside the ring was engraved, “This too shall pass.” This too shall pass, this too shall pass, this too shall pass…

In life, in the world, everything passes, everything changes, and every stick has two ends. Every stick has two ends—that’s another saying I heard attributed to Gurdjieff. It speaks to illusion’s reality of duality. At the other end of the stick of pleasure is pain, at the other end of the stick of attraction is repulsion, at the other end of the stick of wealth is poverty, etc. You can’t pick up just one end of the stick without picking up the whole stick. You always get the whole stick.

Perhaps we begin by trying—to take one end without the other. This can go on for many many lifetimes, but eventually we realize it is impossible. So then we may attempt to do away with the stick altogether, to not pick up the stick in the first place. This is the road of austerity—denial, but the problem is that denial id just one end of a stick, and always on the opposite end of the stick is indulgence. We can go through many lifetimes like this, going back and forth between denial and indulgence. It’s like a pendulum. But the pendulum itself is subject to the law of duality, and that which moves will eventually become still, though this may take hundreds of lifetimes. And this is just an example of one pendulum…

At some point, however, one begins to understand that they are trapped and cannot do without help. One might begin to take religion more seriously or seek out help through therapy, spiritual teachings, spiritual teachers, etc. Perhaps one learns about and is encouraged to try the technique called non-identification or non-attachment. In other words, to not try to do away with the stick, but to pick it up and yet remain unattached to the experiences of either of its ends. This can work, but it is extremely difficult, and virtually impossible without help, and even with real help, it too, can take many lifetimes.

And so, we see the significance of the words, and be able to keep it. To be able to keep anything implies a transcendence over duality itself. Once we have achieved this then it follows that one has nothing to learn.

But Gurdjieff said that the way to it lies through suffering. Why suffering? And is not pleasure on the other end of the same stick whose end is suffering? And therefore, does not suffering itself continue to embroil one more and more in duality? So why suffering?

Meher Baba put it this way, if you are having a wonderful dream and wake up, you want to go back to sleep and recapture that dream, but if the dream is unpleasant, you only feel relief that it’s over and have no interest in revisiting it.

Meher Baba and all the Perfect Masters I have studied are very consistent on this point, life as we experience is a dream—the dream state of God. It is all illusion and delusion and however real it appears to us to be, it is not real. Yet, it is a necessary stage that the soul must experience on its journey from its deep sleep to its real, fully awake, I am God State.

If life was always pleasant, enjoyable, etc. there would be no impetus to awaken. Meher Baba explained it this way, he said that a growing dissatisfaction with life and all its dualities, both unpleasant and pleasant, combined with a growing interest and eventually all-consuming love for God is the dynamic mechanism of this awakening.

Gurdjieff used this analogy. You live in this beautiful house with many rooms on many stories. Those rooms contain unbelievable experiences of beauty and bliss. But you chose to live in the basement—the dark dank basement—and have all but forgotten even the existence of the other stories and rooms. Instead, you busy yourself making efforts to find the most pleasant places in the basement to pass your time fighting and arguing with others about meaningless things. Gurdjieff concluded by saying that the only way out of the basement is to ally oneself with someone who found their way out of the basement and is willing to show you the way.

What is the basement? It is gross consciousness—consciousness of what we call the physical universe and all its physical forms from galaxies to subatomic particles. Gross consciousness sees only the gross expressions of subtle energies and the mental projections of thoughts and feelings and desires. It sees only the outside.

What are the upper stories and rooms? They are the seven planes of higher consciousness: the first three being the planes of subtle consciousness—of energy. The innumerable powers, experiences, and possibilities of this story—this subtle world—constitute the various rooms on that story.

What is the next story—world of consciousness—beyond the subtle? It is called the Mental World and it is consists of two planes—rooms—the first being the plane wherein lies mastery of thoughts and the second being the plane wherein lies the mastery over all feelings, emotions, and desires.

Beyond this Mental World is the Seventh Plane, the plane of God Realization/Self-Realization. It is the end of the soul’s journey. It is the fully awake state of the soul. It is eternal, infinite, and the abode of all Knowledge, Power, and Bliss.

Those whose consciousness is of the subtle sphere can help others to reach that sphere, but they cannot help others to achieve states beyond their own station. Likewise, those whose consciousness is of the higher mental sphere can help others to reach that sphere, but they cannot help others to achieve the states beyond their station. Finally, to achieve the Goal, it is necessary to enlist the help of one who has themselves achieved the Goal—a Perfect Master.

The evolution of consciousness proceeds through association and disassociation of the soul with all the lower gross forms from stone to man. Throughout this journey, suffering is experienced. With the achievement of the human form the process of reincarnation begins. In this process, human forms, male and female, black and white, weak and strong, rich and poor, etc., etc., are experienced, discarded, and then replaced in an effort to free the consciousness of the soul from its identifications with these very forms.

Throughout this phase of the journey the experience of suffering continues. And even when the consciousness of the soul enters involution and experiences the various planes, suffering in first a subtle form and then in a mental form continues. Suffering is there throughout the entire journey of the consciousness throughout the entire dream state of the soul—what we call creation consciousness.

But what exactly is the nature of this suffering? It’s a complex thing, for there are many different forms of suffering, and not all of them are necessary! This is the important thing. Not all suffering is necessary!

But the whole point is to get pleasure and be able to keep it. Whoever can do this has nothing to learn. But the way to it is lies through suffering.” – G.I. Gurdjieff

That’s how we started this topic. In the dream state of creation, duality manifesting itself through constant change is the king, and so the ability to keep anything would be quite an accomplishment. Gurdjieff as well as the Masters are all in agreement that suffering is essential to achieve constancy, but as was discussed, there are many kinds of suffering and not all of them are necessary. In fact, almost all suffering is unnecessary and almost all suffering is unwanted. So then, why do we go on and on suffering and suffering? Gurdjieff often said, “The most difficult thing for a man to give up is his suffering.” What an irony; what a contradiction!

In 1979, I was talking to Adi K. Irani in his little office in the Avatar Meher Baba Trust Compound in Ahmednagar, India. He was saying that we are all traveling on a train that would bring us to the Goal, but we are not driving the train. All that is necessary for us to do is to stay on the train and bide our time in a pleasant and helpful way. But sometimes, Adi said, we might be enticed to get off the train. He said that Meher Baba would let us get off the train, but also, in His Infinite Mercy, He would always allow us to get back on the train. I suggested that though getting off the train was, in fact, unnecessary, once that option was taken, we would have to shift from calling it unnecessary to calling it an unnecessary necessity. Adi seemed to like that.

Leaving the train in search of pleasure always leads to suffering, and this suffering is unnecessary, but the wisdom gained from countless experiences of getting on and off the train eventually leads one to learn to stay on the train and not be lured off by the false hopes of desires. What is the most unnecessary suffering of all? My experience tells me it is worrying. Worrying is the most unnecessary suffering of all. I recall the old saying, “a coward dies a thousand deaths, a hero only one.”

 Of course, staying on the train also has its share of suffering, but this suffering is necessary.

So, what is suffering? Suffering can be physical, suffering can be mental, and suffering can be emotional. None are pleasant, and if we are honest with ourselves, none are really welcome—at least for most mere mortals. As Adi used to say, “A kiss and a kick from Meher Baba are one and the same, but I still prefer the kiss.” Don’t we all?

Now, it may seem from the way I’m talking that I actually understand what it is I’m saying, and perhaps at some level I do—understand the why and the what of suffering, its necessity, and its unnecessary necessity, and maybe most importantly, that it is all just an illusion—a dream. I can even tell myself—remind myself—of this in the midst of my own suffering.

But if this is true and I’ve learned the lesson, then why do I keep suffering; why do I need to keep suffering? So, I must be missing something, for as Hafez said, “He never tries His slave in vain.” Then what is it that I’m missing? I believe that the answer is simply this, all my understanding, all my knowledge of suffering, is limited to that section of mind that controls thinking and thoughts. The other section of mind, the domain of feeling, emotion, desires, etc., does not know the truth that the thinking section of mind knows, and it is for this knowing by the feeling section of mind that suffering continues to be essential.

But like any remedy to be effective, it must be the right remedy—in this case, the right suffering and this is where the Master comes in. The Master, being Infinitely knowing, sees into every corner of the soul’s cloak of illusion and knows what the exact prescription is that will free the soul from its cloak of illusion.

There is a story about a disciple who is telling his Master about a friend he says is very spiritual. He reads spiritual books, meditates, and is seen to do good. The Master says, “Oh he sounds very spiritual, but then, gesturing with one hand he says, “but let me grab him by the throat and throw him up against the wall,” while with his other hand he makes a fist and gestures as if he is about to punch the man in the face, and says, “then we will see how spiritual the man really is!”

I know the story sounds a little crude, but the point is clear, head knowledge is fine, but it’s not enough. We need to know with the whole of ourselves and this is where life comes in. It is life that can take us to the door, but at the door one’s progress comes to a halt and the help of the Master becomes essential. It is the Master who can pull us through the door to the Goal.

Gurdjieff often evoked the analogy of a carriage, a horse, and a coachman.

 “A man as a whole with all his separately concentrated and functioning localizations, that is to say, his formed and independently educated ‘personalities,’ is almost exactly comparable to that organization for conveying a passenger, which consists of a carriage, a horse, and a coachman.” All and Everything – Beelzebub’s Tales to his Grandson, page 1192

 

In this analogy, the carriage represents the physical body, the horse represents the organization of human feeling, and the driver represents the whole totality of the manifestations of human mentation—what is generally described as thinking.

It is precisely the training of the horse that is the work of the Master. The horse cannot be trained with the same methods that work for the driver. The Master works with and through life to train the horse and for this, some suffering is necessary. But suffering, in and of itself, is never the point and unnecessary suffering, by its very nature, is never necessary. The Master works to eliminate unnecessary suffering and through the Master’s Love and Compassion, helps support the wayfarer through the trial and tribulations of the necessary suffering. The Master is always Infinitely Merciful and Eternally Benevolent.

In fact, from the very beginning of the soul’s journey of consciousness, from its earliest associations with pre-human forms—all the way back to and before the stone form, the Master is working. The Master is always working, but mostly, behind the curtain. Only at certain times, and this is generally when the soul is reaching the end of its journey, does the Master appear to the soul in order to establishes a personal relationship. This personal relationship is necessary to guide and energize the final steps of the soul’s journey. The acceptance of the Master’s help by the wayfarer is the critical factor, for this acceptance represents the acceptance of Reality by Illusion—the giving up of Illusion’s hold on the soul’s consciousness as limited and separate from Reality—from God—from Self.

 

You are like a stream that flows through all of time seeking union with


the sea. Nearing journey’s end, the stream flows into a vast desert and


is trapped in the sands. Weakening more and more, it struggles


on, but finds its way blocked by great mountains. Hopeless


and helpless, its life ebbing into the sands, the stream cries out,


‘Oh help me Lord!’ and is answered by the voice of the wind.


‘I am the wind; you must give yourself to me. In my arms I will carry


you over the mountains as a cloud and as rain you will merge with the sea.’

 

‘But I will die!’



‘You will not die! Only your dream of yourself as stream will end.

Besides, where is your choice?

A stream you can no longer be.

Give yourself to me or be lost to the sands forever’.

And so, totally helpless and without hope, exhausted beyond belief, the


stream gave itself into the arms of the wind and was carried as a


cloud beyond the mountain’s peaks. The cloud drifted over the sea


where seeing itself reflected in the water below, began to weep.


‘I await you. Come,’ welcomed the sea.

And the cloud released itself as tears of joy   


and fell as rain into the sea.


‘We are not we, but one,’ spoke the golden sea and the stream, being stream no more, heard the voice and recognized it as its own.”  – From The Voice of the Stream, a poetic rendering by Michael Kovitz of a Sufi story

 

                                                                                                     © copyright Michael Kovitz 2023


 


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