“There are those who have made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. He who is able to accept this, let him accept it.”
–Matthew 19:12
Ever since I read this yesterday I’ve been contemplating its meaning- whether in the shower or watching Galaxy Quest with my son or even staring into the fridge wondering what I’m having for lunch.
Like the metaphorical eunuch, can I cut off my false dreams, painful thoughts, and delusional fantasies? Is this cutting off even possible? I’m intrigued. I’m scared. I’ve crushed some thoughts to my chest like an old rag doll – doesn’t matter if it’s coming apart at the seams. Doesn’t matter if it offers nothing in return for my devotion… I don’t want to let go.
Looking back, I see how loss was part of the journey and even sowed the seeds for future joy. Intellectually I get that. Emotionally, letting go can feel as if I am giving up on purpose. And yet there is something in me that dares to know the truth. Maybe the modern day eunuch questions his thinking and the thoughts release him. Maybe questioning is the fire that heats the blade. Maybe the eunuchs know.
My theory has always been that at some point, something will arrive and reward my patience, my suffering.
At least that’s how I thought it worked. Except these days I’m feeling restless. I’m dreaming of mesas and blue sky. I’m wondering if I can choose differently. Deal myself a new hand.
The tickets to Truth or Consequences, New Mexico lay on my kitchen table. I bought them last week, knowing nothing about the area but intrigued by the name.
I walk to the sink and pour out my stale coffee. There’s a trembling in my body that I don’t recognize. Something did happen to me (or perhaps through me). My suffering isn’t gone but I don’t mind taking it with me.
“But it feels so real… this whole being human thing. And I haven’t accomplished anything. It’s embarrassing, really. Heartbreaking.”
“Oh, god, you really believe that matters! Hold on, I have to wipe my eyes.
“So not to be insensitive, but how long do you really think you have on earth? At the outside, say 90 years or thereabouts? Would you even want to be around longer? Never mind, not relevant. Bottom line, you are literally the twitch of a blink of a cosmic eye. There’s only one reason you’re here and everything else is filler. You can judge that filler as good or bad. Accomplished or tragic. But Life isn’t judging you and there is no prize for Best Human.”
“You make sense, but you’re a rooster so really, I’m probably just talking to myself.”
“If that makes you feel better. I am a rooster, true. But wise as the stars, my friend. Wise as the… But hey, you believe in concepts that make no sense anyway. Am I just a rooster? Appearances can be deceiving.”
“I’m so lost… Wait. What’s the one thing I’m here for then? Was that rooster speak or do you really know?”
“Being lost is fantastic. It just means your stories have less glue. And the one thing? Remember City Slickers?”
“The movie? Where Curly holds up a finger?!”
“That’s where I was going except… and here’s a hint… the one thing has nothing to do with accomplishment. NOTHING to do with it.”
“So find my one thing…”
“Except that it’s not a thing, right? It’s more a state, a north star. Makes sense? Just don’t compare your one thing to someone else’s.”
“Because I rock, I talk to roosters, and my one thing is more than enough. That about it?”
“If my beak was flexible you’d see me smile… but allow me to just say, hell yeah. You totally got this.”
It’s not that dreams are bad, they’re just not real. Not nearly as amazing as waking up.
On the one hand you have the familiar: your deep unhappiness, your pain, your familiar burdens. You’re mostly ok with that because you have dreams. Dreams of Better, More, Different, Improved.
And when you’re used to living small, you need dreams. I did. I do. But there comes a point when you need to choose the red pill. Or is it the blue one?
You choose to wake up and let your blankie go… you embrace your pain and your hurt. You don’t imagine a better future. You find your peace, your Self, in the present. Right where you’ve always been.
And maybe this time you’re able to face that like a warrior, like someone who remembers we’re not given more than we can handle. As long as you have you, is it (any of it) really so bad? Remember yourself? That sweet, amazing person who has been longing for your attention, possibly for years? Yeah. She’s right there. She has some things to say. And it has nothing to do with future achievement.
In Bodh Gaya, past shimmering water, rice paddies, and red-clay hamlets I found Buddha sitting crossed-legged beneath the distinctive heart-shaped leaves of the Bodhi tree. Eyes closed in seeming meditation, he said, “Welcome, sister. I can tell you have a lot on your mind.”
Trembling at being plucked out of my reality and finding myself in 6th century northeastern India, I took a deep breath and sat down in front of Siddhartha. For some reason, I knew exactly where I was and who was in front of me. A part of my mind wanted to question that, but a larger part of me didn’t care how I knew. Buddha looked nothing like the pictures I’d seen, but his radiant energy left no doubt. I had so many questions I didn’t know where to start.
I blurted, “You should probably know I’m not Buddhist.”
Translucent amber eyes opened. I felt a waterfall of love wash over me. “Buddhism, Christianity… they’re just words. What’s in your heart? Don’t think about it first.”
I flashed back to what brought me here, sitting in front of this awakened holy man. One moment I was at the cash register of a vegetarian café, about to place my order, and the next I found myself in this ancient forest. It must have happened after I saw the laughing Buddha statue and rubbed his belly for good luck (I was just following the instructions on the sign at the register!).
Coppersmith barbets, small birds with green bodies, yellow cheeks, and red heads called out in metallic tuk, tuk, tuks, reminiscent of a copper sheet being beaten. The scent of what I swear was Nag Champa incense wafted in the breeze. If this was a hallucination, it was a damn fine one.
Feeling my stomach tighten, I leaned forward. Either way, this was my chance to get some answers. “Can you foresee my future? Or are you just going to tell me to look within? I’ve tried that. It was a bust.”
“So, you think there’s a ‘you.’ No wonder you feel so dissatisfied!” He giggled.
“You just used the word ‘you’! This right here is why religion is so confusing. Eastern religion most of all.” I bit my lip. “For once I’d just like a straight answer.”
“Hmmm.” He tilted his head. “I can see the future sometimes but since we’re breaking the rules… Here’s the fortune in your fortune cookie: You’re going to live a long life.”
I tightened my fists. The burning question was what kind of life.
He continued. “Yes, a long life. You’ll make some bad choices, some smart choices, and then you’ll come to a ‘big decision.’ I’m not talking about a new job or how to grow your 401k.” He settled deeper into himself. “You’re going to decide if you’ll become … me. And that question will come up again and again until it gets answered.”
“What does that mean – Are you saying I need to become a Buddha?” I was so lost.
“Are you happy?” He countered.
“If I’m being honest, it feels as if something’s missing from my life. Like I’m hurrying toward a bus stop but never finding it. I just keep running, searching, knowing that if I could just catch this bus, I’d get to where I’m supposed to be. Or doing what I’m supposed to be doing. It’s a muddle.”
“I see you know what unhappiness feels like. You’re not alone. Human beings can’t help but think it’s all about ‘me’.” He reached out his index finger and touched the spot between my eyebrows. “Me, me, me… so much misery from this little word.”
As he spoke, I felt my sense of self drop away. Without any label, I saw life expressing itself. Just life. There was no sense of loss, no sense of right or wrong. Chaos had its place. It was so clear. Peace also had its place. And nothing was personal. Yet everything was intensely part of my experience.
In a few short minutes, it was over. I felt myself return to my body. To the small self which constantly fought for answers and control. It was weaker now, less dense. I could continue to struggle, try to wrestle life into my limited understanding of it or I could learn to let go. Like the Buddha. Like Jesus. Like nature itself. Effortless effort a yoga teacher once called it. I never understood that at the time.
The incense started to burn my eyes. A vibration started at the base of my spine like the singing of a Tibetan bowl. Our time was almost up.
The light around me grew brighter and brighter. I could barely see Buddha’s outline as I became engulfed in golden flame. “Om mani padme hum, sister. Learn to be compassionate to your amazing self.” He opened one eye and winked. “Just remember… being the Buddha is no excuse to let loose on the donuts. A big belly is optional. And one more thing… I believe in you.”
The buzzing sensation grew louder until I couldn’t think. As quick as a snap, I was back at the café. “Well, miss, have you decided yet?”
Can there be anything sweeter than the kiss of a mind gone mad?
What magisty of noise and purpose!
Do you think God loves the crazies?
Those folks with hearts bigger than Texas and minds that have no idea what to do with them?
What about our bodies?
Do they forgive us our overindulgence, our stuffing down of pain?
Vows of suffering and poverty…
What place do they play in the soul’s evolution?
Can we chose again this lifetime?
Will we burn in hell?
Oh, those shackles of thought
…No story ever told is true
April Belle 