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In this evening’s sitting, Michael reads Old Turtle and the Broken Truth by Douglas Wood. It’s an enjoyable story that, among other things, points out the spiritual hazards of ethnocentrism and how limited truth falls apart under the weight of Absolute Truth.

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I’ve been reading and listening to lots of conflict over the past several days. Along with the recent killing of the doctor who performs abortions as well as yesterday’s shooting at the Holocaust Museum, it got me thinking about some writing I did on this topic.

…in today’s global religious culture, we find major attachments to division and resistance not only between groups of people but perhaps, more importantly, between people and their sense of God. Most churches do not operate from a place of interconnection with the Divine, but they rather have a tradition of relating to both God and each other from a hierarchical place of separation. Most traditions tend to view God as something apart from what we experience each moment as ourselves. We pray to God rather than living as a conscious expression of Him. And yet, for many, to recognize ourselves as expressions of all that is holy is considered blasphemy. In truth, seeing ourselves as separate from God in any way indicates that our ego, either singularly or collectively, is at work. Churches, mosques, temples, and all the other traditional organizations that fixate, codify, and dogmatize their ideology will only impede an Awakening, since their work centers itself around the convictions and attachments of the ego. These convictions lead to absolute certitude, and certitude eventually leads to violence. As such, if a government or religion decides to identify itself with a system of institutional separation it will only generate more clinging and, in turn, more resistance, more anger, and more suffering, for more people. And yet, this is exactly the situation that the world seems to be in: people are forced to commit themselves to a stunted spirituality or to nothing in particular. In either case, we feel less connected to each other and ourselves, while our spiritual landscape becomes more and more barren.

It surprises me in my discussions with people how their spiritual lives seem to reflect a felt sense of this frustration. The places they worshipped as youngsters seem irrelevant to the way they live in today’s world. And yet they yearn for some type of shared spiritual connection.

A couple of more pieces on the ongoing saga of Osel Hita Torres who recently left monastic life and his tradition:

Over at the Guardian, Victoria Coren offers up an interesting bit of analysis:

…you have to know what you are rejecting. Otherwise, the rejection has no meaning. So my advice to the gurus of Buddhism, who have been drumming their fingers for it, I am sure, is to be hopeful rather than worried. All spiritual leaders need their time in the wilderness. If Osel Torres spends the next five years trying to get into the film industry, listening to Hendrix and watching people bounce desperately around in smoky boxes, then returns to the path of the Preservation of the Mahayana Tradition, he could grow up into the greatest lama of all time.

Time magazine has also picked up on this story:

The abdication of the anointed tulku is a significant embarrassment to the group he was supposed to head, the powerhouse Foundation for the Preservation of the Monastic Tradition (FPMT), the foremost Tibetan teaching organization in the West. It also challenges Westerners who have adopted Buddhism to find more sophisticated ways of understanding its magical side.

Time goes on to quote Robert Thurman on the issue:

Robert Thurman, a Buddhist scholar, former monk and friend of the Dalai Lama, recounts that when told years ago that Hita was to receive a traditional Buddhist education in India he expressed concern. Thurman’s argument: “If he wanted Tibetan traditional [education] he could have reincarnated in a Tibetan family in exile.” The result of the misplacement, he says, is that Hita “has broken away in a full-blown identity crisis.” Thurman thinks that after some time in our “busy postmodern world,” Hita may see the value of the Tibetan tradition, “which he will then be able to approach or not, of his own free choice.” And, he adds, “More power to him!”

Ah, reincarnation. Sacred truth or egoic refuge?

No Self

Originally uploaded by Michael G. McAlister

Self

Originally uploaded by Michael G. McAlister

I thought I’d share this exchange I just had with a reader:

Michael, for some reason, issues of guru abuse are coming at me from every direction. I just had a good friend call me asking to talk – she has been with a guru here in the Bay Area for 7 years and is thinking of leaving her community. Her community is devotional to this woman named “S.” It sounds like from what my friend says that there has been emotional abuse from her guru. Her community sounds like a confusing jumble of projections and power struggles. I’m confused b/c I know some people (Ken Wilbur?) say that cruelty from gurus is compassionate and done purposefully so that the devotee can wake up. Even though my friend agrees with this viewpoint, her guru has said some things quite cruel to her that she says don’t sound true. So she is losing trust in S. Her guru will also not allow for others in the community to question her correctness on any issue. That does not sound right to me. There are other things as well that I’m confused about…. I realize nothing is black and white, all or nothing. But I’m really questioning what the hell is enlightenment if it can look like what S is teaching.

My response:

For one, your friend should leave if there is abuse. In all cases, abuse
derails the process. While I’ve never once heard Wilber endorse guru
cruelty, if he did, he should reconsider.

Second, confusing “jumbles” of power struggles show up all the time in
community. We, at Infinite Smile, have been lucky so far but should also
be aware of stuff like this showing up as we grow. That said, teacher and
community should work together as a container for radical shifts in the
way students meet the world. So any organization that doesn’t reflect
kindness inherently defiles what’s most important in the process of
awakening.

Third, gurus are supposed to be relentless at pointing out clinging. This
doesn’t mean they should ever be cruel. Pushing happens and should. We
shouldn’t feel entirely comfortable with our teachers. They are not our
friends, after all. They are our guides on a treacherous journey and there
isn’t room in this work to lose our balance and either become too enamored of either the heart or the mind; the relative or the Infinite. This is serious business. Hilarious, but serious.

I notice in myself at times that I become aware of impatience
arising and thoughts that center around there not being enough time or
energy to waste on the same old stuff that students keep bringing up over and over again. Then I realize that I didn’t get
into this business for the outcomes. I got into it because I didn’t really have
any other choice.

Having said all of this, 21st century sensibilities help devotional traditions get pretty sticky. It never made much sense to me, but then again it works for some people. Regardless, total devotion to a teacher always brings out interesting qualities in both teachers and students. So what should we be looking for? One quality: trust. Are they firm? Good… this is definitely helpful. Are they cruel? This actually can reify egoic clinging in most of us, which is why I’d say “move on.” Without trust, intimacy can’t flourish. Without intimacy, the entire process becomes a “jumble” of egoic clinging.

Then the follow-up:

I think my friend is just beginning to step outside of her community’s foggy habitat
and admitting to herself that S is absolutely not flawless – and this is when the
problems began. Yikes! S was evidently enlightened through some kind of transmission from
Adi Da, but never actually worked with him. Maybe that’s part of what’s going on. She began teaching when others called on her to do so – is it a teacher’s responsibility then to not heed the call to teach until they know
they are ready? How does one know? And why do you think such a shift occurs when student has committed to one teacher?

And finally:

When is the right time to teach? Well, I’m probably not the best person to answer this as it was never my intention to teach. Short answer, I don’t know. In our situation, what started as a class on uncovering meditative stillness in a suburban hamlet became something bigger. I was fortunate in that both Infinite Smile and I have had lots of guidance from lots of people who’ve done this stuff before. I still call on people all the time for advice and I’m constantly looking at both my practice and the sangha’s “center of gravity” to make sure everything about us is reflecting a deep unity with the teaching as best as possible and thus remaining “fog free.” Of course this fog-cutting takes attention and work. For example, teachers who are surrounded by sycophantic students can easily lose sight of what’s most important, and because they are seen as peerless by all those that are around them, they can fall into the trap of becoming totally devotional to themselves and their work. This creates communities of pseudo-enlightenment, where egos that think they are awake push well-meaning practitioners into the ditch. And these ditch-dwellers simply don’t have the tools to get out even though “getting out” is precisely what is needed if enlightenment is the goal.

Over at the Intent.com, Deepak Chopra offers some analysis of Obama’s speech in Cairo:

…it was a cobweb-clearing speech. The content wasn’t exceptional. Before Muslims assumed the role of bogeyman after 9/11, any tolerant educated person realized that Islamic civilization has a great heritage. Nor is it news that the Muslim world is far more complex than the picture painted by a tiny minority of fanatical extremists. Yet to hear an American president reiterate these things had a powerful emotional effect.

The heart of the speech, once we get past its effort at reconciliation, was Obama’s candid talk about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the social obstructions in Arab society. It was bracing to hear him say that “Israel isn’t going away,” just as it was moving to hear the words, “peace be upon them” when he referred to Muhammad and Abraham. In one stroke Obama set America’s policy toward the Arab world back on a sensible, moral, even idealistic path.

He goes on to intelligently call attention to what’s ultimately needed:

Yet there is a glaring problem that the speech didn’t confront directly, which is the inability of “good” Muslims to stand up for change. “Good” is equated with devout, and that’s a huge obstacle to reform. The Muslim world has not liberated its core values from the dogmas of religion. In the name of devotion to God women are denied even basic rights; terrorists march under the banner of faith; mullahs control credulous masses of believers; education for the average citizen is totally centered on the Koran. All of these are backward trends.

As I listened to Obama, I was struck at how he was asking to be met in resetting a relationship. As he said, he can’t do it alone. To be sure, America needs to reevaluate broken policies. But all of it needs to be actively supported by the part of the Muslim community that can “lunch in  London restaurants and shop in Paris boutiques as often as they attend the mosque.”

Carrie Rickey, at the Philadelphia Inquirer writes:

Maybe you knew David Carradine from his role as the title character, the stonefaced assassin in Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill. Or maybe you knew him as Woody Guthrie, the plainspoken folk singer and folk hero in Hal Ashby’s Bound for Glory, for which he earned a deserved Golden Globe nomination (not an Oscar nom, as I incorrectly said before). Many knew him as Kwai Chang Caine in the cult TV show Kung Fu, a pupil of Shaolin monks hunted by the Chinese royal family, imparting the wisdom, “The wise man walks always with his head bowed, humble like the dust.” In that legendary role Carradine was the bridge between Eastern mysticism and American action, an early proponent of East-Meets-Western.

Perhaps no other character inspired me as a young boy than Carradine’s character, Kwai Chan Caine.

Bows, Grasshopper.