the pathless path

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Yikes! Just realized the contents of Reasons for Hope was broken! It’s fixed now!

Reasons for Hope is a great collection of "hopeful stories," collected by my buddy Boogie Jack Gaskill. I contributed one of the stories. Right click on the link and save the pdf file.

I only see what I think I see

I’ve been reading a new OSHO book, called Emotional Wellness. It’s basically a discussion about becoming whole. The part I’ve read so far is quite close to what we talk about here.

I’ll paraphrase.

While men and women are fundamentally different, both possess both Yin and Yang energies, which, ideally, would be in balance. Like the yin/yang symbol. Not only are the sides equal – they each contain aspects of the other.

OSHO argues that men operate from reason and women from emotion, which is a bit of an over-exaggeration.

Anyway, each side has both useful and not-so-useful aspects.

Reason has given us science, inventions, cures, etc., but has also given us wars, weapons, and death camps. Emotions give us a felt-sense of what the world is about, but also cause us to so focus in on the stories I tell myself about what I am feeling, that logic and clarity fly out the window.

If these two ways of viewing life are in balance, we would have access to a much more functional way of being.

However, in order for this to work, we must discover an additional piece, which could be called consciousness, presence, or my personal favourite, the Watcher. (I mention that it’s my favourite mostly because I wrote a free booklet by that name, which is available to you here.)

One way to access the Watcher, or to be present, is through meditation. As I just sit, I notice the coming and going of thoughts, feelings, and emotions. The essence of sitting is not to try to stop any of this, but to simply observe the arising, the charge, and the passing of each thing.

Thoughts, feelings, and emotions are real, in that they are observable (by me) and sensed (by me,) but have neither meaning, nor power.

Meaning – all meaning is ascribed meaning. OSHO calls this rationalization. Reason, as a process, leads from a to b to c. Rationalization takes ‘a’ and demands that others see what I see. As soon as my way of thinking moves from "what I’m thinking" to "true," I am in trouble.

Or, as an emotion arises, if I observe it, it comes, it waves at me, and it goes. If I latch on to it and attach meaning through panic, or up the ante, or blame others for it, I have once again moved into "stupidville."

Power – the things that go on inside of us are phenomena – things that are occurring. In my book, Half Asleep in the Buddha Hall, I describe phenomena as, "Look! There! A thing!" Not a thing with meaning, just a thing.

Therefore, feelings, thoughts, and emotions cannot legislate behaviour.

So, if I am noticing anger arising in me, I can own it, and maybe go pound a pillow. The anger, however, cannot make me do something, like yell at Dar, or be obnoxious. Just becuase I think something, I do not have to do it, although I could choose to.

The Watcher is what we are. Watching is pure consciousness. It’s that which says, "Wow. Are you ever making yourself angry" -  in a totally calm, unattached "voice." (The Bible, remarkably, calls this the "small voice of stillness!")

The Watcher sees, hears, feels, yet does not react. It is the essence of us, and is universal, and therefore not really us at all. The more you live your life from this understanding and way of being, the more rich, vibrant and juicy you become, because you see that you have feelings, for example, but are not your feelings.

Here’s a Story for You

Last night I was watching a documentary on Harvey Milk. Somehow, that led me to think about my first year at Elmhurst College, as I pursued my BA, in 1968.

I arrived in Illinois at 17.5, having grown up in Buffalo. My parents were liberals politically and religiously, and they saw to it that I received a liberal schooling – civil rights was as much a part of me as my blood.

Steve, Randy, ca. 1968

The school was a hotbed for anti-war and civil rights stuff, and I arrived just after the infamous Chicago Democratic Convention. Having been a Bobby Kennedy supporter, my nerves were a bit raw.

I ended up in a dorm room with 2 roommates – Randy and Steve. Both were small town boys. Steve was righteously odd. He’d race into the room 3x a day, and grab a can of Right Guard, and spray a goodly dose all over his armpits – while still wearing his tee-shirt. I suggested taking off the shirt. He replied, "That’s the way we do it in Ankney!"

By October, Randy and I had moved to a double room, leaving Steve to a couple of other cowboys.

Long story short, Randy and I became best friends. I spent time with him and his family, in Southern Illinois, in January of 69. First time I ate venison. While we were there, he broke up with his girlfriend.

In April, I noticed that Randy was leaving letters out on his desk, and talking about going to England, "to meet someone," in the summer. He was excited. I was curious (nosy) and would glance at the letters as I (frequently) walked by his desk. It was clear the Randy was writing to someone, and was planning quite the erotic holiday in England. I was glad for him.

One evening, Randy was a work, and I was writing an essay. I needed his dictionary, and wandered over to his desk. Another letter from England, wide open, on his desk, turned to the back page. I glanced down. It was signed, "All my love."

"George."

"George???????????????????????"

I grabbed the letter, looked more closely, attempted briefly to come up with a "George" must be short for "Georgina," and then collapsed on my chair.

Randy, I suddenly realized, was gay.

I freaked.

I had met a lot of people in my travels in the Movement, but to my knowledge (silly me) never a gay person. Now, this was 1969, and some years before Harvey Milk became the first openly gay city legislator in the US. Gays were closeted, mostly, and way, way out of my wheelhouse.

I had no point of reference. At all.

In keeping with the top part of this article, my reason was overwhelmed, and all that was left was my emotion, which was panic, fear, and terror. Randy had become alien to me, the "other," and I was afraid of what he might do to me.

Thankfully, my nascent Watcher got my attention.

"Call your favourite professor!" I raced for the pay phone. (This was pre cell phones, boys and girls. )

Dr. Rose was a friend. We talked a lot. So I had his home number.

He listened, as I copped to spying on Randy, and listened some more as I almost screamed, "What do I do???"

Dr. Rose said, "How long have you known Randy?"  Me: "Almost a year."

Him: "How long do you suppose he’s been gay?"  Me: "A while, I guess."

Him: "Has he ever made a pass at you?"  Me: "Nope."

Him: "So Randy is just as he was. What’s changed?"

Silence. Then, my Watcher smiled.

Me!: "I changed. I got more information, blew it out of proportion, and scared myself. He’s the same, and I just freaked myself out."

Him: "Yup. Now, all that’s left is to decide if you can expand yourself to include gays in your ‘normal’ category. If you can get over yourself, you’ll stay friends."

And that’s what happened.

We talked when he got home, and I realized that he was the same person I’d known since September. We stayed close friends, and I realized that sexual orientation or activities were no longer issues for me. I learned to make “being human” equal to “normal,” or something.

I saw Randy again that summer, on a road trip I’ll have to describe some day, and then he moved to San Francisco. We communicated by letter, and phone, and he visited once in the early 80s.

By 1985 or so, we’d lost touch.

In 1988, I got a letter from his mom. Randy had died of AIDS. She nursed him to the end. She wrote that he didn’t want to worry me, and didn’t want me hopping on a plane and seeing him bedridden and dying, so he asked her to write after he died.

He was my friend, and still is.

Thank "god" for The Watcher, for Dr. Rose, for my parents, and for my willingness to have a breath. My reason failed, my emotions went into overdrive, and The Watcher watched, breathed, and offered me a way back into presence.

The Watcher has never failed me. So long as I stop, listen, and breathe.

I owe Randy, big time.

Related posts:

1. Getting in Touch
2. Mirror
3. Drop Your Story
4. 6 Ways to Deepen Relationships
5. The Dance of Relationships

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