A Personal Journey of Evolving Consciousness

Born in 1951, I was part of the leading charge of baby boomers growing into the sixties. Contrary to the myth of that decade that stated "if you remember it, you couldn't have been there", I still do retain fleeting glimpses of that time. It was nothing if not turbulent. I entered that ten year stretch of my life a starry eyed child of the fifties, filled with my parents ambitions for me. I left it a dark, surly, aging teenager, desperately searching for meaning in life.

I didn't know where I would find it, but I kept peering under rocks, rummaging through rubbish, opening different doors, looking for something to hold onto in the midst of everything that seemed so meaningless. What I did know was that my heart was not inspired by the Middle American dream that surrounded me.

Entering University in the fall of '69 I began to meet others who were picking through the same detritus of society. "What is all this about?", we were asking. It was an explosion of questioning and being introduced to new ideas. Whether it was studying Marxism, reading Nietzsche, Sartre, or a host of others, we felt challenged by new perspectives of being. Personally though, I really did feel bombarded. It often was hard to handle. Truth be told, I didn't handle it very well at all.

There was, however, one corner of my intellectual universe that calmed me, introducing me to the notion of "aha!" I developed an interest in Buddhist philosophy. Through reading the works of Shunryu Suzuki, Daisetz Suzuki, Allan Watts, and others, I found that I was constantly saying to myself "This speaks to me! This makes sense!" Not having been raised in a particularly spiritual home, by the age of twenty I had harshly judged all organized religion. I could not abide the bible-thumping guilt that I heard coming out of so many pulpits. It was adding fuel to our societal discord, splitting us into "us versus them - we are the chosen ones you are not" camps. It was part of the problem.

I heard no words in Buddhism, however, that spoke in such disrespectful tones. It didn't ask us to consider what divided us, but rather, what brought us together. The one phrase I loved from Allan Watts at the time was "As the ocean waves, the universe peoples." We were but points of exquisite light of universal consciousness. This spoke to my sense of uniqueness in experiencing "my" consciousness, whilst simultaneously breathing life and meaning into what was beyond. Yes, I was intimately connected with all that surrounded me. I was embarking, ever so slowly, on a path of appreciation of non-duality.

Over the years I found much debris on this path. I would choose dead end branches heading into the bushes, or leading to swamps. Sometimes the adventure was fun, other times, not so much. I would get lost, and need to confront my aloneness as I tripped and stumbled down a dark road. I was fortunate, however, to meet the occasional guide along the way.

Although I knew meditation to be an integral part of Buddhism, I spent more time reading about it, rather than actually doing it. It was part of the "practice", but that was where I seemed to get stuck. Having totally (and I mean totally) rejected the dogmatism and ritual of organized religion, I found it virtually impossible to integrate into my life the concept of doing something because I was supposed to. I would do what I wanted, thank you very much.

I also, however, had the sense of something missing. Over the years I articulated to myself and close friends my recognition that a religious or spiritual community was greater than its "dogma". It provided community, a sense of connection with others. This was something I did not have in my life.

Recently, I have met another one of those precious guides I spoke of earlier, Dr. Ian Prattis. He was giving a talk at a local community meeting hosted by Interfaith Sandy Hill last fall. In response to a question I posed about the "how" of becoming more engaged in social change he invited me to the Pine Gate Sangha. I really had no idea what to expect, but he seemed like a wonderful individual. I had first heard him speak on CBC radio about two years ago as he discussed his recently published book "Failsafe - Saving the Earth from Ourselves".

What I am discovering is that missing link of "community", or, in Buddhist terms, the Sangha. For me, I feel like I am coming home. Don't get me wrong. It is not that Pine Gate, per se, is home. Community is home, or, once again to switch to the Buddhist term, Sangha is home. Home is a place to nurture the seeds of life. Home is where you garden. Yes, I can garden on my own, without others, but I am finding it so much more enriching as I garden with others. This is what I am learning about at Pine Gate, as I garden and nurture in community, in Sangha. And, believe it or not, I've actually started the process of integrating meditation into my life! Home is where you make it, and, Pine Gate is becoming part of my home.

Religion, Faith, and Other Sensitive Concepts

Although ostensibly raised in a traditional "Anglican" home, I was never inculcated with any particular faith as a child. God was a non-subject as I grew up, at least in my home. I essentially viewed it as one more subject of study, which I did, taking a survey course on religion and ethics offered by the Department of Religion at Queen's University while I was an undergraduate.

During my early twenties I developed an abiding interest in Buddhism, and have written about it previously. I cultivated a fond appreciation of its non-theistic approach to explaining reality. It spoke to my search for a sense of moral compass without insisting that I accept any particular dogmatic preaching. I realized that I could be "moral" without the requirement of "faith".

Just a couple of weeks ago I picked up an interesting textbook during one of my regular prowls through my neighbourhood Sally Ann. Titled simply "World Religions - Western Traditions", it is edited by Willard G. Oxtoby and first published in 2002. Some of it I find tedious, as I can't always follow the various names and tribes that are mentioned. (Will I ever understand the diference between the Kenites, the Kenizzites and the Kadmonites?) However, much of it is quite enlightening, as history.

I was reading this book this past weekend as I traveled by bus back from Toronto. A young man sat next to me, and we soon struck up a conversation. He was immediately curious about my reading material, particularly fascinated in that it covered his own religion, Islam. I conveyed how I was learning more about how Jews, Christians and Muslims all prayed to the same God, that they were all "of the book".

The conversation then turned to the question of my own "faith". A peaceful smile came over his face as he told me how important it was for Jews, Christians and Muslims to appreciate how their faiths are inextricably linked through God. Apparently, he had assumed I was Christian. I mentioned my interest in Buddhist philosophy, but decided I didn't want to delve more deeply into the issue. At this point I reminded myself of another chat I had had with a Muslim acquaintance, who was quite shocked and distraught when he heard that I didn't actually believe in a supreme being. "You must believe in God!" he exclaimed, incredulously. The term "non-theistic" had no place in his reality. It was only the intervention of our mutual friend that directed the discussion to safer ground.

I tell this story because for me it relates to how sensitive many of us are about the issue of faith and religion. It clearly touches deeply within the core of many. I mean no disrespect to others when I reject the concept of religious or spiritual "faith" in a "higher power" or "supreme being". I simply don't have it.

For some, it seems that being without "faith" is equivalent to being without morals or direction. If I don't believe in God, I must be misguided and lost. From the perspective of many, I need to be saved. Well, I don't feel lost at all, thank you very much. I may have more questions than answers, but I actually think that is a very healthy way to engage in the world. I view questions of ethics and morality as fundamental to every step I take on this planet. I may not always make the correct choices, but I question my behaviour every day on issues that matter.

I usually find myself shying away from discussing this topic, particularly with my friends who "believe", largely out of fear of being disrespectful of their "faith". I do not wish to be shy about this any longer. I find it so curious how over countless centuries humanity has developed its entire belief structure on a collection of stories handed down, re-interpreted and re-transcribed over time based on dreams and visions described by a handful of influential and perhaps unusual individuals 2-3,000 or more years ago. We argue incessantly over the correct interpretation of our daily news, yet Christians, Jews and Muslims accept on "faith" what has been passed on in their various holy books over a millennia or more. We then proceed to kill each other over conflicts between these various interpretations of who "God" gave or did not give some land to, or who he holds in highest esteem. Incredible. And to think we call ourselves civilized.

When I read, for example, the story of Abram's conversation with God in Genesis 17 it is just that; A Story. It, and the rest of the Book of Genesis tells a fascinating tale, but I don't believe for a minute that it in anyway relates to real conversations that someone had with "God" or with the beginnings of the universe. God didn't create the universe in seven days a few thousand years ago. People were not visited by "Angels" nor have conversations with "God". They had dreams, quite powerful and perhaps really scary dreams, but dreams nonetheless. Being good story tellers, and quite likely influential members of their respective communities, they were able to weave such experiences into a developing belief structure as to the nature of the universe. They sought a way to explain the unexplainable. Bertrand Russell describes it well in Proposed Roads to Freedom:

What a man believes upon grossly insufficient evidence is an index into his desires — desires of which he himself is often unconscious. If a man is offered a fact which goes against his instincts, he will scrutinize it closely, and unless the evidence is overwhelming, he will refuse to believe it. If, on the other hand, he is offered something which affords a reason for acting in accordance to his instincts, he will accept it even on the slightest evidence. The origin of myths is explained in this way.

I have dreams every night. I always feel that I have a much more refreshing sleep when I know that I have been dreaming. It is an important means by which I work out the trials and tribulations of my day. Through my lifetime, I have experienced a handful of powerful, emotion laden dreams, some of which I have retained as a conscious memory. At no time, however, did it occur to me that I was in conversation with God or any other ephemeral being.

In Biblical times though, that was the standard interpretation given. Dreams were seen as messages coming from beyond the mortal world. God, angels or the devil were speaking to us. What other explanation could there be?

Emotional experiences really do have the feeling of touching us in our "core". We physically feel it. Who hasn't woken up from a powerful dream, shaking or sweating? When afraid, we may often feel the hair stand up on the back of our neck. Others around us may view it happening. We feel the "knot" in our stomach and physical observation can readily detect these subtle yet very real changes in our body chemistry. Powerful? Most certainly. God tapping on our shoulder or the Devil whispering in our ear? I think not.

The explanations offered for these very real and powerful experiences three thousand years ago made sense in the context of the time. They do not make the same kind of sense today.

I am attracted to and interested in all religions for the moral teachings they have to offer. Being without religious faith should not be seen as justification for immoral behaviour.

...to be continued.

Buddhist Writings and the Concept of Scripture

I was raised in what I would describe as a "secular" family, in the midst of the typical North American "Christian" mindset of 1960's. Let's just say I don't recall Bible discussions around our dinner table. If the topic of religion did come up, it was usually in the context of how fanatical views often seemed to be the root of world problems. We collectively rolled our eyes upon hearing any public proclamation that "God is on our side."

Perhaps this is what appealed to me about Buddhism. As a non-theistic religion, it isn't centred around belief in a supreme being. It is, instead, a set of moral practices to live by. Ever since Alan Watts told me in the early seventies that "as the ocean waves, the universe peoples", I have been drawn to this non-dualistic way of perceiving reality.

I have read the works of several different modern day Buddhist teachers. These have included the Dalai Lama, Lama Surya Das, Thich Nhat Hanh, and Shunryu and Daisetz Suzuki, to name a few. Thich Nhat Hanh's books are small, and easy to carry, making them easy to travel with. For me, they are as close as I will come to "reading scripture". They are teachings for my heart and soul.

Here is an excerpt from the first page of Touching Peace that spoke to me today:

Our true home is in the present moment. To live in the present moment is a miracle. The miracle is not to walk on water. The miracle is to walk on the green Earth in the present moment, to appreciate the peace and beauty that are available now. Peace is all around us- in the world and in nature-and within us-in our bodies and our spirits. Once we learn to touch this peace, we will be healed and transformed. It is not a matter of faith; it is a matter of practice. We need only to find ways to bring our body and mind back to the present moment so we can touch what is refreshing, healing, and wondrous.

I found myself reading over this early in the evening as I travelled toward Ottawa on the bus from Toronto. I would put the book down, and glance at the passing landscape. I would feel awash in appreciation of the Universe in every glistening speck of melting snow, or in the passing silhoettes of the cedar trees. Everything simultaneously the same, yet unique. The ring of cell phones against the beauty of a spring sunset. All perfect.

The final chapter opens with this:

We come to the practice of meditation seeking relief from our suffereing, and meditation can teach us how to transform our suffering and obtain basic relief. But the deepest kind of relief is the realization of nirvana. There are two dimensions to life, and we should be able to touch both. One is like a wave, and we call it the historical dimension. The other is like the water, and we call it the ultimate dimension, or nirvana. We usually touch just the wave, but when we discover how to touch the water, we receive the highest fruit that meditation can offer.

In the historical dimension, we have birth certificates and death certificates. The day your mother passes away, you suffer. If someone sits close to you and shows her concern, you feel some relief. You have her friendship, her support, her warm hand to hold. This is the world of waves. It is characterized by birth and death, ups and downs, being and non-being. A wave has a beginning and an end, but we cannot ascribe these characteristics to water. In the world of water, there is no birth or death, no being or non-being, no beginning or end. When we touch the water, we touch reality in it ultimate dimension and are liberated from all of these concepts.

To me this reads as scripture. Teachings that touch me, and simply make sense. I don't know all of the terms, I have never been one to follow dogma or ritual. One thing I have learned, though is that there is no where to go, as I am already here.