Meditation

Enlightenment In The Trash Heap And Enlightened Garbagemen

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Around 2003, remarking upon the all the mystical and meditative books available, I said “someone could probably achieve enlightenment on their own.” The remarkable rare texts, deep analyses, and thoughtful translations were stunning to me. No monk, magician, or meditator could match what we could get with a trip to the right bookstore, a catalog, and a few clicks online.

This is not to say it would be easy – one would need dedication and research. One could doubtlessly make mistakes, as I did examining various Taoist practices (let’s just say physical pain and leave it at that). This is also not to say that learning from a person is inferior, it’s merely that enlightened teachers seemed in short supply. But the knowledge was there, and it was impressive and humbling.

At least one could get pretty far along, I’d figure.

(The fact I am of the opinion there is an identifiable form of enlightenment is something for another time, of course. I like to keep these columns of a reasonable size).

As time went on, I came to realize that even if I was right – and I arrogantly assume I am more likely right than not – it’s gotten harder because of all the damn stuff out there.

How much could a seeker dig up that is Theosophy wearing a funny hat and carrying a fake ID? What books are out there that are merely well-designed rehashes, Robin Hood’s barn’s of meditation and contemplation? How much is manipulative near-criminal bullshit designed to pull you into a very criminal cult – or help you found one?

Then you’re up to your armpits in podcasts, TikTok videos, and people trying to sell you something! There’s distractions beyond books – and things that may be helpful that look like distractions! Even if Sturgeon’s law wasn’t true, it’d all be more than a bit much.

It makes me understand why some sages and such grab a pile of books and high-tail it to a shack. Or the modern equivalent, which I guess is a studio apartment.

For modern seekers of spiritual knowledge, sincere people who want to learn and grow and attain some kind of Enlightenment, you can’t rely on the market. You have to research and talk, be skeptical and test, and above all walk that line of skepticism and enthusiasm. We’ve given the spiritual seekers all the tools the could need, and scattered them inside a junkyard.

In many ways, this just reveals the value of having fellow spiritual seekers to work with and consult with. We need people to talk to, to recommend things to us and to recommend things to. We need people to sort through the bullshit for us and with us, people we can trust.

Any enlightened teachers out there are probably pretty busy not just teaching but helping people avoid and filter bullshit on a level unseen in history.

Maybe it’d make them harder to recognize because they’re helping clean up the trash.

– Xenofact

Meditation Is Rebellion

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Like many people I meditate. My specific technique is based on Thomas Cleary’s translation of The Secret of The Golden Flower. I breathe slow and regular, mind on breath, tuning it all the time, returning my mind to the breath when distracted. There is more to be said – I mean this is from an entire book said to be written by Lu Dong-Bin himself – but that’s the basics.

I often think about meditations (and yes, I realize the irony). Recently, I realized this simple process sometime feels like rebellion.

I’m sitting there just breathing and watching myself breathe. I’m not busy trying to be my idea of myself. I’m not trying to be what other people expected me to be. I’m there, but I’m not being any one of the me’s I could be. Just breathing.

I’m not doing anything but breathing and watching. I’m not doing anything or taking any action or making anything. I’m not a job or a position or part of the economy or whatever. Just breathing.

I’m not “doing it perfectly.” I’m just doing what I do, mind on breath and breath on mind. There’s no “perfection” or someone else telling me what to do. In fact, The Secret of the Golden Flower doesn’t even talk perfection (it’s a very pleasant read, honestly).

I’m not even doing some deep metaphysical analysis or exercise – that’d be a distraction from my mind on my breath and my breath on my mind. There I am, engaged in what some would think of as a mystical act, I’m not particularly mystical or acting. Yes, things may happen, but it’s not the goal.

There’s something incredibly rebellious about just being there but not trying to be or do anything. The pure realness of the experience is unclassifiable.

So, that’s a small bit of sharing from me to you – I assume if you read my writings you mediate or consider it. Maybe it’ll give you a way to look at your meditation with a fresher, different, view.

And you can also ask what you and I are rebelling against.

– Xenofact

And So Words Become Part of Us

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I have many copies of the Tao Te Ching in my library.  I found joy in reading different translations because I found new insights each time and learned about the different translators.  One copy could provide lessons no other could, and together they were more powerful.

Regretfully, I had not read any of my copies in a while.  When I remediated this, I found something interesting happening after reading two or three translations – I felt the words in the book as much as I read them.  This feeling helped me gain insights and even led to some well-needed behavior and personal changes to deal with certain challenges.

(Specifically, this happened while reading the Red Pine translation, an excellent one, but one to read after you’ve gone through some easier translations)

In my younger years, I would read philosophical and meditative writings and then be frustrated at how hard it was to “change myself.”  With study and time, I found that personal growth or exploring mental and mystical spaces took work.  Mental and mystical journeys are oft one foot in front of another, and trying to jump ahead risks frustration or delusion.

Words inspire, guide, and inform but they are not a destination.  Now I saw they were also their own form of meditation.

I realized my reading of the Tao Te Ching had been a kind of exercise or meditation.  Anyone familiar with the book knows the small chapters, well-translated, can be very evocative.  I had soaked these in by reading and rereading nearly two dozen different copies, and now reading them brought forth lessons old and new.  The words had become part of me.

Reading words and trying to bash our thoughts into place to follow them is too easy to do and usually fails.  These experiences are a reminder that reading and rereading (or hearing and rehearing) wise words and transformative thoughts is a meditation.  We have to give words time to work their way into our minds, to be analyzed, felt, and understood.

I’m sure we’ve all heard stories of sages, holy men, hermits, and mystics who would read and reread a certain book.  Now I understand their efforts much more.

– Xenofact