Life is Meant to Bring Wisdom

New Principles, Number 1

If life has any meaning, it is this: that each event of life is meant to bring wisdom. The wise person is able to see through the events of life, to their essence, and in that, find their Soul.

I've been a fan of Ram Dass ever since I attended and recorded one of his lectures, in Toronto, back in 1982. I recently read his latest book, Still Here, which he wrote after his major stroke back in 1997. The book's title, of course, is a play on the title of his first book, Be Here Now. (Both of these books are highly recommended - a link to Amazon is below, and each title above is also linked to Amazon.) Let me note that Still Here is a great book both for people dealing with ageing and dying parents and also to help us ageing baby boomers get a handle on our own journey to death.

Anyway, here's a quote from R.D. (Still Here, pg. 17)

"In a non-traditional culture such as ours, dominated by technology, we value information far more than we do wisdom. But there is a difference between the two. Information involves the acquisition, organization, and dissemination of facts; a storing-up of physical data. But wisdom involves another equally crucial function: the emptying and quieting of the mind, the application of the heart, and the alchemy of reason and feeling. In the wisdom mode, we are not processing information, analytically or sequentially. We're standing back and viewing the whole, weighing the depth and meaning of things. The quality of wisdom is rare in our culture. More often, we have knowledgeable people who pretend to be wise, but who, unfortunately, have not cultivated the quality of mind from which wisdom truly originates."

We're not good, because wisdom is so rare, at differentiating between wisdom and information. Information, by its very nature, is a surface thing. Information gathering is like leaf gathering - there's always another leaf. Many people get caught in the, "Just as soon as I have enough information, I'll act" sort of place. Which is of course a cop-out and an impossibility. Left to our own devices, there is never enough information to do much of anything.

So, many people take that little bit of information and run with it, making decisions and living life as if there is no meaning at all. They're of the "if it feels good, do it" camp. They just plunge in, like a bulldozer in a mushroom field. And what they miss is what R.D. identifies in our quote: "the emptying and quieting of the mind, the application of the heart, and the alchemy of reason and feeling."

Notice especially that last clause - reason and feeling. We might see this as the best possible application of our minds and our bodies. For reason is not the stacking up of theories, nor the collecting of bits and pieces of information. Reason might be thought of as having an underlying sense of the meaning of a situation - a knowing that is all about the larger question of the meaning of one's life. It's a living with the depth of the questions, as opposed to being quick off the mark with answers, explanations or "ways out."

Another hint as a way to differentiate between information and wisdom: information counts, wisdom simply is. People living mostly on the information side of the equation will have lists: of how much money, how many cars, houses, toys they have. Lists of sexual conquests or activities engaged in. Lists of books read and theories discussed. Lists of techniques, lists of definitions. The information side is quantitative - the more one has, the more on is assumed to be.

I remember once sitting with a woman in Montreal, whose brother had just joined a group led by Da Free John. (He's had so many names over the years, I haven't a clue as to what he calls himself now.) Dar used to date the guy, and I still kid her that, but for the grace of God and meeting me, she'd be selling candles on street corners, but I digress. The sister had several of DFJ's books, and I flipped through them. In each book was a copy of a letter from an Indian guru, attesting that DFJ was enlightened.

Now, I saw that and of course wondered what the going rate was for such a letter. I also wondered about the need DFJ had to be declared to be wise. It seemed to me, then and now, that I should be able to read what he writes and view the way he lives his life, and from that have a pretty good indication of his wisdom. The Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval, Indian style, didn't do much for me.

So, another guide - if you tell people you are wise, you aren't. Or, to quote the Tao Te Ching: "He who knows the Tao does not speak; he who is ever ready to speak about it does not know."

Wisdom, on the other hand, is about an intuitive, felt sense of knowing - of knowledge. It is all about sitting with situations and in the stillness - evaluating them on the basis of the question: will this bring me more depth of Soul? Thus, the work of reason, of wisdom, is a path of subtlety, patience and gentleness.

Because a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.

No one, no one does this work alone. We repeat this endlessly. Some time ago, actually right after I finished the series of Into the Centre articles using Rumi quotes , I decided to buy a book of Rumi poems and stories. I ended up with The Essential Rumi. Contained therein is a real gem of a story, one which I didn't think I'd ever fit in to Into the Centre. It is called "The Importance of Gourdcrafting," and is about a servant-girl who repeatedly has sex with a donkey. (See why I wondered how I'd use it?) She'd fashioned a gourd to keep the donkey from "going too far," if you catch my drift.

Well, the servant-girl's mistress watches her in the act, and likes what she sees. Rather than ask the "expert for advice," however, the mistress thinks she has enough of the details down pat to have a great afternoon. Danger lurks, however: "The servant knew what was happening, though. "Ah, my mistress," she thought to herself, "you should not send away the expert. When you begin to work without full knowledge, you risk your life.""

As you might expect, it didn't go well. The mistress died as the donkey "pushed through." Rumi then brings the tale to this elegant conclusion:

"Don't sacrifice your life to your animal-soul! If you die of what that leads you to do, you are just like this woman on the floor. She is an image of immoderation.

Remember her, and keep your balance.

The maidservant returns and says, "Yes, you saw my pleasure, but you didn't see the gourd that put a limit on it. You opened your shop before a master taught you the craft.""

Time. Patience. Silence. Moderation. In this, and this alone, is wisdom.