Epiphany

Image courtesy of NASA.gov

Some years ago, I was in the Villa de Papa (the Pope’s Villa­—and don’t worry, it wasn’t really the Pope’s villa, that was just the name of the hotel), in Rome.

One of the eight airlines I flew for in my past life was a cargo outfit flying A300-B4-F’s (for those of you who aren’t aviation aficionados, it’s an old, big, fat French jet we pilots used to call “The Before-Christ.”) We flew all over Europe on contract with DHL (something called a “wet-lease” because it includes fuel).

Like a typical cargo pilot, I’d just slept away the day in my cozy little room, and I was lying in my bed with that floating post-sleep feeling, when I had one of those out-of-this-world experiences.

I saw a band representing time curve in on itself to form a circle. This circle started to spin, and fused into a man-sized translucent globe of blue light, filling most of the small space in my room. And no, I wasn’t on drugs.

So I walked into this floating sphere and became its epicenter. Everything made sense.

Don’t ask me how, but I knew the experience wouldn’t last, so I started asking myself a barrage of impossible questions.

I’d ask a question and the answer would be yes. I’d ask the opposite question, and the answer was still yes. The crazy thing was that these seemingly contradictory affirmative answers weren’t fazing me in the least.

Like this was some perfectly normal occurrence for a pilot who sleeps all day in the Pope’s Villa, which isn’t really the Pope’s Villa.

(Cargo pilots rarely see the light of day, and like vampires, they appear to have been born around the time Da Vinci drew his first sketch of a glider. I’m glad I only did the cargo-thing for two years, otherwise my nine-month-old son would be mistaking my hair for cotton candy about now.)

So I had this epiphany, but I only realized the intensity of the experience after it was all over. My belief system shaken to the core, I tried make sense of it all—to hold on to some conclusion­­. A treasure I could carry with me in life.

What I took from that experience—my conclusion—was that everything is true from a certain perspective, but that there is only one truth, and that truth can never be comprehended with thought, only through experience.

But ironically, I’d just converted what I’d perceived as an experience of truth into word-based thoughts that amounted to a multitude of partial truths.

When I saw what I’d done, I realized I had to learn to let go. It wasn’t easy at first, but eventually, whenever I’d have an epiphany and I’d think, “That’s it! I’ve finally got the one answer to everything!” another thought would soon follow, “Who are you kidding, buddy?”

Those who-are-you-kidding thoughts were mini-epiphanies in and of themselves, and they’d clear my mind, helping me through the process of letting go. 

Epiphanies are, in terms of the ego, literally to die for. They can obliterate past beliefs and conclusions, leaving the mind temporarily free to experience life without the obstruction of psychological thought.

But epiphanies are fleeting. The experience becomes a memory, and soon most do what I did at the Pope’s Villa: they hold on. And the longer they hold on, the longer they suffer.

Unless we learn to let go of conclusions and beliefs, or alternatively burn them at the altar of inquiry, we condemn ourselves to a lesser experience of existence.

We choose suffering.

Suffering leads to a deep yearning for peace. Some of us hold on to our epiphany-based conclusions, hoping they will serve as a gateway to that peace.

I’ve been on that path. The path of hope. The path of a “better future.” It’s never gotten me anywhere. I always am where I started.

The way I see it, lasting peace is no longer knowing how to hold on.

What is your experience?

False Prophets

“Beware of false prophets who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are savage wolves.”

—Matthiew 7:15

For thousands of years, presumed enlightened sages, gurus, and teachers have been talking about freedom from the ego. They used different words: freedom from suffering, liberation, enlightenment, moksha, nirvana, Zen—but all are basically different expressions for the same thing.

In the past, the stereotype guru came from India, had enough facial hair to put Rip Van Winkle to shame, and catered to hippies with almost as much hair, as well as people who called themselves devotees, followers, or disciples, and who were, for the most part, not independent thinkers.

Since I was sixteen, I’ve read a lot of books by teachers, gurus, non-teachers, call them what you will. I’ve listening to them speak, either live or on video. I even flew to Zurich, Switzerland, and met privately with Elisabeth Haich and Selvarajan Yesudian.

I was intrigued by the writings of J. Krishnamurti. He was one of the first to set himself apart from the mainstream. He insisted he wasn’t a guru or a teacher. I think he might have approved of the terms speaker and writer, nothing more.

But people called him the guru’s guru, and newscasters often labeled him as a philosopher. Other’s called him a world teacher. Mere speaker and writer, or world teacher, the fact remains he was a major influence to many. In 1984, Krishnamurti received the United Nations Peace Medal.

Almost everyone treated him with the reverence one would give an enlightened sage.

Believe it or not, Barnes & Noble classifies his books under Religion and Inspiration. If Krishnamurti hadn’t been cremated, he’d be doing summersaults in his grave.

Maharishi Mahesh Yogi tried what was a new approach at the time: using science and scientific methodology along with Transcendental Meditation (TM), in a kind of East meets West experiment. But almost everyone who practiced his TM technique believed that Maharashi was enlightened, and that through the TM program, they too could eventually attain this coveted state of consciousness.

Eckhart Tolle appeared on the scene in the end of the last century with a fresh perspective to an ancient subject. His first book, THE POWER OF NOW, did well at first, but really took off in 2000, when Oprah Winfrey recommended it in her magazine. THE POWER OF NOW has been translated in thirty-three languages and has sold millions of copies worldwide.

Eckhart Tolle is by far the easiest to understand of all the teachers I know. It takes genius to make the complicated simple.

He calls himself a spiritual teacher, and doesn’t make a big deal out of it. Good for him.

A year or two later, I stumbled upon Byron Katie. From what I understand—I’ve read all her books and seen numerous videos, but I’m certainly not an authority—Byron Katie does not call herself a spiritual teacher or a guru, nor does she talk directly about spiritual or religious matters, or the subject of enlightenment. 

She is a teacher of a system of inquiry (inquiry is a big Krishnamurti word if there ever was one) she calls “The Work.” I suppose this is the reason her books are found in the Barnes & Noble Self Help section, whereas Eckhart Tolle’s books are found in the New Age section. (Why in the world Krishnamurti is in the Religion and Inspiration section, I’ll never know.)

I’ve only written about one “speaker,” as well as few gurus and teachers in this post. I don’t know all the teachers—I’ve just mentioned a few I’ve encountered either directly (in person), or indirectly through their writings and recordings.

These teachers, speakers, or gurus—call them what you will—all have one thing in common: they claim, in some way or the other—usually through a sudden dramatic transformation—to have been awakened or enlightened. Some say so directly, like Eckhart Tolle; some indirectly like Krishnamurti. (I’ve never heard Krishnamurti say he was enlightened. But his journals, which are published in a book aptly entitled, KRISHNAMURTI’S JOURNAL, as well as the general consensus of those who followed him, leave little room for doubt that he is considered by most to be enlightened.

But what the hell is enlightenment anyway? I can tell you what I think it is, but that’s as worthless to me as it should be to you.

One can logically say that if you’re enlightened, you know what enlightenment is. And that’s the only way anyone can ever know what enlightenment is. So if you’re not enlightened, then how can you make the assumption that enlightenment even exists?

You might have experiences or glimpses, but that does not constitute enlightenment. Enlightenment is supposed to be a permanent state of being, not a fleeting experience.

So then, why follow anybody on a path, a non-path, or whatever, to a state of enlightenment when you don’t even know what enlightenment is? You don’t even know if the person you’re following is enlightened or just a clever actor—a savage wolf, to quote Matthew.

I’ll tell you why did. It’s simple: I didn’t.

I’ve never “followed” anybody. I’ve listened, but always with a Doubting Thomas ear. I have been my own guru, my own teacher.

Yeah, yeah. Big deal, right?

Actually, it is a big deal. I’ll tell you why:

After all these years, I’ve finally found the false prophet. I’ve found the savage wolf.

It’s me. My thoughts. When I believe my thoughts, I am ravaged by the wolf.

It’s that simple.

The Pursuit of Happiness Delusion

When I ask people what they really want out of life, the most common response is, “I just want to be happy.”

Okay, fine, you just want to be happy.

But what in the world is happiness anyway? According to Wikipedia, happiness is “a mental or emotional state of well-being characterized by positive or pleasant emotions ranging from contentment to intense joy.”

So happiness is an emotion.

You’ve got happy, and you’ve got it’s opposite, sad. Happy feels good. Sad doesn’t.

Whatever the emotion, however, you can’t feel it all the time, every single moment of the day.

It’s just not in human nature to stay happy.

Why? Because we can’t keep experiencing the same emotion all the time. It’s unnatural unbalanced, and would be exhausting.

Let me get one thing straight here: I’m a big fan of being happy. I love it. It’s awesome. I’m just thinking it wouldn’t be so awesome if happy was all there was, you know what I mean?

So I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with happiness. Not at all. But like all emotions, happiness is fleeting by nature, and so it doesn’t make sense for it to become a goal.

Yet people keep telling me being happy is their goal. Like it’s something you can have all the time. The pursuit of this mythical enduring state of happiness is what motivates many of us to do things—doing things now in order to be happy in the future.

These are tough times. The economy sucks. Most of us are trying to sell when few have the money to buy. Prices are going up, but your salary or wage is staying the same, if, that is, you’re one of the lucky ones who still has a job.

Like many people these days, when I’m worrying, I’m worrying about money.

Sometimes the thought pops up: If I had money, I wouldn’t be worrying about not having money, and I’d be crazy happy.

And then, from within a silent explosion of smoke, a genie appears, telling me I have one wish and one wish only. He tells me to think carefully—

Before he can finish his sentence, I tell him what I want. I don’t need to think about it. Not for a second.

I want a billion dollars. Not a million dollars, mind you.

One.

Billion.

Dollars.

I tell the genie dude I want to be a secret billionaire. (See, to make my wish really cool, people need to think I’m just a millionaire, otherwise I’d get hit up for cash all the time, and then whole One-Wish-Genie fantasy kind of loses its mojo.)

So here I am, this billionaire who everyone thinks is just a Joe Average Millionaire, and I’m chilling in my mansion in New York, Paris, or my mountaintop home on the island of Mykonos.

(I’ll need a private jet to get from one place to the other, so I’m thinking a Gulfstream G550 will do nicely, but I haven’t done my research yet, so I’ll hold off clicking the Amazon.com BUY NOW button for just now.)

I’m smiling just typing this. But how long would the happiness last? I can’t say for sure, but I know that at some point, the momentum of the initial rush would come to a screeching halt.

Whoa, even a billion dollars won’t put me in a perpetual state of happiness?

Me thinks not: I’d be just like before, only a hell of a lot richer. I wouldn’t have any money worries anymore, sure, but something would still be missing. Something is always missing in the material world.

I’d be wondering: “So I’m a billionaire and I’m not happy. What’s the matter with me?”

And so thoughts will bubble up, telling me exactly what the problem is, and what’s missing in my life. Maybe one of those thoughts would be, “You dumbass, you should have asked for perfect health and immortality!

Few of us are truly grateful for the present moment. Sometimes I am, but it doesn’t last. I have to focus into the moment not on my thoughts. (By grateful, I don’t mean grateful in a cerebral way, I mean experiencing the present without thinking about a how things could be better in the future, or how things were better in the past.)

Many things can make people happy. But it’s not a lasting emotion. Nothing in life is lasting, especially emotions. So why make a goal of holding on to one particular emotion? I mean, even if you could experience happiness all the time, it wouldn’t be pleasant; after a while, it would be a complete overload. Too much of anything gets old fast.

You could be in the most miserable situation imaginable—in my case, being stuck in a hospital—and still experience momentary happiness without even wishing for it.

I remember when I was in the Cleveland Clinic, and this sweet lady, a volunteer with the Cleveland Clinic Caring Canines (boy that’s an alliteration if there ever was one), came by with one of those therapy dogs. A ginormous bear-like creature. In fact, he was actually called “Bear.”

I was exhausted from lack of sleep, constant “discomfort” (doctors seem to love this euphemism for the P word), and I was going through a nasty bout of painkiller withdrawal. I was seriously down in the dumps.

But when that huge dog came by, wagging a tail the size of a Christmas tree, my heart lifted...I felt this burst of happiness. It didn’t last long (Bear had to pass on his cheer to others on the floor), but in that fleeting moment, my “discomfort” had lost the battle for attention, and I wasn’t wishing for happiness, or a billion dollars, or even perfect health and immortality.

You can’t hold on to that kind of experience, and you certainly can’t have it be your life, so why have it be your goal?

Happiness comes and goes.

Sadness comes and goes.

Every feeling, every emotion, everything comes and goes.

If I’m addicted to an emotion, I could try to hold on to it or make it my goal. If you hate a feeling or emotion (anger, for instance), I could wish for it to be gone forever. But all I’d be doing is spoiling the present moment with delusions of a better future.

Maybe if that genie were to pop up when I’m still and the world isn’t spinning around in my head, maybe then I’d have the presence of mind to wish for something truly meaningful: for an enduring state of inner peace that is gratitude for the present moment.

Hell, maybe I don’t even need a genie.