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 ✨14 Years Ago…

…I’m in Rishikesh, India, at a hostel that sits on the banks of the Ganges river. I’ve been traveling for five months and I’m nearing the end of my travels in this wild and sacred land.

On my first day in Rishikesh, I decide to go out and explore. To leave the hostel, it’s necessary to cross the courtyard and go through a wooden doorway that leads to the street. As I’m crossing the courtyard, my consciousness suddenly descends into slow motion, and I find myself captivated by the ambulation of a lithe woman. She’s strolling down the street, and our paths are about to intersect exactly when I walk through the doorway of the courtyard. She’s in slow motion. I’m in slow motion. The universe is in slow motion, and time and space are conspiring to intersect our paths toward imminent connection.

As I walk through the doorway she is directly in front of me. Her head turns suddenly to meet my eyes and I casually say hello. To my great surprise, she violently startles, physically draws back, and appears deeply confronted by my approach.

I myself am shocked, for multiple reasons… First, the dramatic shift in my consciousness clearly has no correlation to whether or not this woman wants to connect with me.  Second, it’s not until I am face-to-face with her that I realize something quite radical has just transpired; the entire time I had been watching her walk down the street I was viewing her THROUGH the brick wall that encapsulates the courtyard!  I was having the experience of watching her walk down the street, but from her perspective, I was a strange man suddenly appearing from out of nowhere.

She speaks in a voice that is almost yelling, “Can I help you?!”

I’m flabbergasted and try to sputter coherent words, “Well, I…, um…, wanted to…”. My words don’t have a chance to ascend to the full potential of their nonsense before she is yelling again, “What do you want?!”

Ah, yes, well, about that… It’s quite simple; I went into a profoundly altered state of consciousness in which I began to view you in real time through that brick wall over there, and then magically imbued our imminent convergence with deep meaning and potentiated purpose, culminating in this jackass moment where I am now flagrantly failing in the simple attempt to say hello to you…

I pause, taking in the fact that this encounter is shockingly lower on her awesome scale than I could have anticipated, and quickly course-correct, “I’m so sorry to have bothered you…”

I’m not sure if she attempted to spit on me, or if the amplitude of her relief forced an inordinate amount of air suddenly through her lips, but she seems to approve of my response and significantly relaxes. As her scathing grimace is radiantly transforming into general disgust, I give the customary hand-to-heart bow and perform a new-age ninja retreat into the dusty whir of the morning India streets…

✨A Couple Weeks Ago…

…in Boulder, CO, I was having dinner with my father while we were waiting all day for the brakes on his car to be serviced. As we exit the restaurant I pause and say to my dad, “You see that woman over there with the red sweater? I once had an extraordinary encounter with her in India…”

I tell him the whole story, and while he’s unabashedly observing her, something simple and deep is unfolding in my heart: I feel a great love and appreciation for him. Love comes pouring out of my being toward this 85 year old embodiment of scientific curiosity and artistic engagement. I inwardly bow in gratitude to him, and to this woman whom I encountered in India years ago, who now seems to be the protagonist not only of a supernatural encounter, but also the blossoming of deep care and affection for my father.

✨Just This Morning…

…I woke up from a dream in which I could see my mother’s eyes; just her eyes.

Not the eyes of the woman who is currently battling dementia and generally exists in a state of heightened agitation and fear; No… No!  A young woman, maybe 18 years of age, razor sharp in her mind, exploding with presence and potential. The eyes of a luminous tempest who knows she can do anything and is completely awake to her power and purpose in this world.

As I look into those eyes, they are steady, calm and crackling with aliveness, while at the same time deeply comforting, as if holding me in an ocean of compassion and understanding.  In that way that cannot be explained through conventional forms of speech, her eyes communicate to me a simple, benign truth; 

She loves me, and she is going to die.

Yes…Yes…She loves me, I love her, and she is going to die, and its totally ok…

✨Right Now In My Bed…

…I am writing this story, wondering if I’ll allow my mind to thread these events together into the fabric of a coherent narrative. But, quite honestly, I don’t want to… I don’t want to jump ahead of this moment in time. I don’t want to miss what’s happening now by trying to anticipate what’s going to happen next, or rationally understand what’s happened in the past. Time and space are slowing way down again; slowing down so much that all that’s left is the fertile, simple and expansive ground of Now…

…I’m here now…

Now!

Thank you

Don’t stay at home; stay Home

Did you notice that the sun came up today?  

It didn’t. 

Well, at least not from the perspective of the Earth itself, or the sun, or anywhere in the entire Milky Way Galaxy… The sun only, ever comes up from the perspective of a human being on the surface of the Earth looking out at space during the rotation of the Earth.  Saying the sun comes up is really only a statement that’s true from a particular perspective within a particular set of circumstances. Take the singular human perspective out of the equation and saying that the sun comes up is actually a false statement.

Speaking of false statements, they say we need to stay at home in order to create more safety for ourselves and our fellow humans. If you’re like me you’ve already asked yourself the question, “Is social distancing and staying at home really what’s best for myself and our planet?” If you’re like me, then you’ve already registered, at a very deep level, that something may be terribly askew with this perspective… If you have the sense that something may be off, wrong, out of balance, or muther-friggin FUBAR, then I’d love to offer an alternate perspective on how to take our local and global authorities advice.

Disclaimer: I want it to be clear that I have an intense interest in the safety and well-being of all people/beings, and that this writing is one way that I feel I can be of service to others at this time. I’m not saying it’s the right way or the best way, it just happens to be an unconventional, uncommon and unpopular way… 

The advice that our governments are telling us is (in my opinion) utterly ridiculous and completely unsustainable, from the conventional perspective of individual people living separate, cross-pollinating lives. It hasn’t, doesn’t, and never will be effective in creating more health and well being, because the very premise that we are separate individuals is false. Trying to keep everyone separate from everyone else in order to facilitate well-being is like trying to solve alcoholism by guzzling vodka; it’s literally trying to solve a problem with the exact source of that problem. It’s insanity.

Let’s take a quick moment to prove this for ourselves:

Observe all of the most painful experiences of your life (or even the mildly inconvenient) and recognize that all of those experiences had built into them the sense of separation and an intense sense of being an individual person(ality). Once you notice that being a separate person(ality) is at the center of all your experiences of suffering it then becomes possible to free yourself from the confines of that perspective; ie, to free yourself from suffering. In short, if you’re interested in not suffering anymore, investigate WHO is suffering.

Ok, back to the main meal, the part of this that really matters.

What happens if I take a different or less common perspective? What happens when I take the perspective of Consciousness (or Reality, God, Buddha, The Universe, The Tao, etc), which is never and could never be separate. What happens when I acknowledge the truth of my direct experience, free from thought or memory, just exactly as it is? 

Nothing in consciousness is ever separate from anything else in consciousness. Consciousness itself is the experience of being aware. And once you realize that the experience of being aware is the most fundamental aspect of all experience, a simple and stunning fact becomes clear; I AM ALREADY HOME! Another way to say that is that I-AM is home. The experience I-AM, or being aware, is ground zero, the one place you could not leave even if you tried.   So, when your government (or your mom) tells you to stay at home that is actually profound advice, advice that I am also sincerely encouraging.

I’m suggesting that the sense I-AM is Home. Why? Because it’s the only experience you cannot depart from. Being aware is the only experience (it’s not really an experience, but I’m not going to explain that now) you cannot NOT have. Again, prove this for yourself by answering this question, “Tell me about an experience you weren’t aware of?”  You can’t do it. Or, just try right now to not be aware.  You can’t do it because there are no experiences separate from the knowing of them. There is no such thing as experience without awareness; it is literally impossible to not be aware, therefore it is literally impossible to not always, already be at home.

Staying home is an invitation to investigate the only thing that never changes; Consciousness (The sense of being aware).  Notice that all experiences change. Circumstances and conditions change. Thoughts, feelings/emotions, sensations, perceptions, activities, and relationships all change. The awareness that knows all these experiences never changes.

Consciousness is your home because it cannot be disturbed and it never comes or goes. You want certainty? Fix your mind in that which doesn’t change. You want safety?  Put your mind in that which is indestructible. You want freedom?  Widen your gaze to that which has no borders or boundaries. You want love? Open your heart to that which receives all things unconditionally. You think things are crazy and out of control?  Recognize that what is aware of crazy is itself completely at peace in every moment…

Don’t be a separate self who stays in temporary, insecure structures like your house or your personality. 

Don’t stand on the horizon of consciousness watching the world rise and fall. Stay Home. Be the shining itself. Let your attention rest back into its source; the ever-present I-AM…

Soft, Simple, Safe Sanctuary

I’m slumping down into my window seat on an outrageously early flight to Boston and the thought occurs to me, “Please don’t let it be someone boring and uninteresting sitting next to me…”

Somehow I heard myself thinking and wondered if a different intention for this flight would be more condusive to having a pleasant time, but I was so exhausted from lack of sleep that all I could muster was, “Actually, I’d like to sit next to a super hot woman who is kind and openhearted.” I chuckled to myself at the ridiculousness of this thought and minutes later was fast asleep.

At some point I roused from a very deep rest and was momentarily disoriented. Disoriented first because I don’t normally sleep so deeply on a plane, and also disoriented because there seemed to be something missing… It took me a moment to realize that what was different was a lack of inner noise or tension, and in the space where that agitation usually exists was a warm, gentle peacefulness; a freedom from the normal stress and strain usually running through my system.

I sighed and was just about to snuggle back into slumber when something else occurred to me; my head was resting on someone’s shoulder!

I suppose I should have been startled or embarrassed, but the warmth and comfort I was wrapped in seemed to calm the slightest impulse of fear or habitual contraction.

My baby-head swiveled sleepily to peer at the origin of this sanctuary shoulder. How totally odd that a stranger would let me fall asleep on them, on an airplane…

When I looked up my eyes were met by an ocean of kindness. Staring back at me, with crystal blue eyes as still as the open sky, was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen face to face. She didn’t blink. She didn’t waiver. She just held me in her gaze in a way that seemed to shine loving acceptance into my whole being and ease any thoughts of inappropriateness or unconventional awkwardness.

I’m pretty sure I was just staring at her, mouth hanging open, eyes blinking stupidly, when her hand came up and gently rested on the side of my face, “No…” She said with some foreign accent and gently pushed my head back onto her shoulder.

Um, did she just say "no" and push my head down onto her shoulder?

My chest gushed with love and my mind shattered it’s conceptual ceiling.

I would have immediately fallen asleep again, but disbelief shot me like cupid’s arrow. I was compelled to look at her again. One, to check if in fact an impossibly hot woman was connected to the shoulder I was laying on. And two, I suppose, simply to confirm that this was a real experience I was actually participating in.

My head bobbled up again to confront the high-altitude rapture sitting next to me. Yup; a super hot and unfathomably kind woman… still staring at me.

Sigh… I chuckled again to myself, this time at the calamity unfolding in my inner experience; the retarded traffic jam that happens when beliefs collide head-on with direct experience.

I think I began to try to say something, but the beatific hand of beauty was again on my face, pushing my head down into her shoulder, “No, you rest…”

You know that skit on Saturday Night Live when motivational speaker, Matt Foley (played by actor Chris Farley) is giving a pep talk to a family and he keeps referencing his “van down by the river?” I remember watching that skit and experiencing an inner revolt because it was so gut-bustlingly funny and simultaneously so completely ridiculous that my mind didn’t know how to orient towards it. I remember saying to myself, “No, no, no, no!”, and yet, at the same time, some other part of me was excitedly saying, “Yes, yes, yes, yes!”
That’s kind of what was happening for me with this woman on this airplane; disbelief was flagrantly fraternizing with bliss! I mean, what friggin category does this experience get filed into? What in the science-fiction-cucumber-sauce is going on here, anyway?!

Luckily, God has a plan. And, part of that plan is designed around my mind not being able to figure some things out. So, the next thing I knew, my eye lids were moving down over my eyes and a smile was spreading on my angel-like face. Apparently I was going to surrender to this Goddess of Nurturing Kindness and go down for round two of fantasy dream-time.

So I did. I surrendered. In addition to consenting to more sleep (Though, in the bigger picture did I even have a choice?!), I realized that I was also consenting to allow my mind to rest as well. To allow thought and disbelief to yield to the radical truth of this moment:  I am getting exactly what I asked for, and more!

I woke up again, mildly aware of the fact that she was adjusting the blanket that she had pulled over me while I was sleeping.  Did I mention that she put a blanket on me while I was sleeping? She did. She put an actual blanket on actual me while I was actually sleeping.

What?! Who does that?! When do epically hot strangers put blankets on skinny bearded strangers on strange airplanes?!

I’ll tell you when, Sarkis: NOW.  Right NOW is when things like that happen.
Eventually I woke up and began interacting with this woman like an older-than-post-toddler human being. She was (of course) supremely kind and effortlessly conversational, turning her attention away from me only to tend to her boyfriend who apparently was ill and also besieged by her unending beneficence.

At one point I looked over at them and she was spoon feeding her boyfriend soup. I think I actually sputtered and laughed out loud because it seemed there was no limit to how wondrous this woman was; again, my mind attempting to reject the implications of a living saint being as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside…

Before the flight landed I let myself stare out the widow and marvel at life’s precision and intelligence. How amazing and magical it was that even though I had jokingly invoked the intention to sit next to an attractive, kind-hearted woman, that it had in fact been manifested and even amplified ten-fold. What a gift to be met by such presence and love by a complete stranger.  

Mmm, yes, that is accurate: a COMPLETE stranger.

I let my thoughts drift again, wondering if she was a contestant in the International Heidi Klum Lookalike Contest, or if there even was such a contest, or if there wasn’t that there should be because she would certainly take first place in that contest.

The flight had landed and “Heidi” was tending to her boyfriend as they prepared to exit the plane. Before getting up she turned to me and smiled, saying in her sexy foreign accent, “It was wonderful to meet you.” She had one of my hands in both of her hands for a brief moment, and I’m pretty sure the spasm in my torso emitted no words in response, but a big smile and a heart bursting with gratitude certainly shone my thankfulness back to her.

I don’t remember one thing we talked about nor do I remember any salient facts about her or her boyfriend at all. What I do remember was how it felt resting my head on her shoulder, and what it was like to wake up with kind hands pulling a warm blanket over me:  Soft, simple, safe sanctuary…

Super-hot, soft, simple, safe sanctuary…

How is Presence different from "being present"?

Part 1: What is Presence?

Presence is not a feeling, action, orientation, or state of being. Presence is not something I can learn, do, or achieve. It is not a time or place that I arrive at or depart from.

Presence is the ground of Being, the fabric or medium (relatively speaking) within which all of Life’s colors become visible.

Presence has no qualities or dimensions of it’s own, thereby making it the perfect and absolute “context” in which all content arises. All of my thoughts, feelings, sensations, and perceptions are rendered knowable by Presence, but Presence itself remains free from any of those modulations.

Consider, for example, if Presence was a pinkish color. Wouldn’t it makes sense that everything that was perceived within Presence would necessarily take on a pinkish hue? The sky would appear pink, my sadness would be pinky, the honed edge of my axe would have a pristine, pink-like sharpness…

It’s obvious that, in order for all experience to arise within and be known by Presence unconditionally, that Presence itself must be free of all conditions.

Because Presence is not itself a quality, dimension, or condition, but is the IS-ness within which all perceivable reality arises, then it is by definition the essential Reality that we are all swimming in. In other words, Presence is another name for Reality (Life, Being, God, Love, The Tao).


Part 2: How is Presence different from “being present”?

If Presence is the ultimate context in which all experience arises, “being present” is the action of paying attention to the content of experience. Being present is primarily a function of paying attention to some thing that is arising in Presence.

When I am being present the implied condition is that there is an object which is being attended to and a subject which is doing the attending. For example, I (the subject) am feeling hungry (the object).

It is impossible to “be present” without being either a subject or object. When I am being present I am always paying attention to some object in awareness.

For this reason, it is actually a profound conundrum to ask someone to “be present” because it implies that there is an action required to know Presence. Keep in mind that Presence is free of conditions, so even one minuscule step in any direction is a step “away” from the already direct knowing of Presence.

It is much more valid to ask someone, “What are you paying attention to?” rather than to ask them to effort to be something that is already the very ground of their being. Asking someone to “be present” is a conundrum because it is literally impossible to not be present.

In other words, I can’t be present, I AM Presence.
What is it that exists when all efforts abate? Presence.
What can I be present to? Anything and everything that’s arising.

In my opinion, it has tremendous value to know what I am being present to, and infinitely more value to inquire into the nature of Presence itself… For this reason, I invite you to dance with me in this inquiry:

“How do I know Presence if Presence is not itself a subject or an object?”
“What is it that knows Presence?”

…Thank you…

43 Yellow Houses

My father and I are driving down Rt 135 from his home in Wellesley, MA to the Beth Israel Deaconess Hospital in Needham for his daily radiation treatment. Some months ago he was diagnosed with prostate cancer and this is day three of a 44-day radiation protocol intended for his recovery.

It’s an easy 15min drive through the caffeinated, early morning suburbs and even though it’s only the third day we’ve done the drive we’ve already begun developing our daily rituals of routine.

On the first day we made the drive I comment that there seems to be an inordinate amount of yellow-painted houses on our “road to recovery”. He agrees and this triggers a delightful camaraderie where we flagrantly ridicule each neighbors choice of yellow while also marveling at the infinity of yellow-hued paints available to home owners. One shade of yellow seems to inspire visions of dog poop and impressionistic art. Another yellow harkens images of bird song and Disney movies. A third yields suspicions of CIA involvement in social media and quickly mushrooms into global-scale conspiracy theory. I relish every moment of our inconspicuous division and classification of yellows as we slowly meander to our medical destination.

On day two we are ecstatic when the monotony of puritan gray houses is disrupted by the sight of a slate-colored house with a magical, canary-yellow door; eureka! We explode into exclamations of joy and disbelief as traditional New England convention is replaced by the absurdity of a sun-colored threshold. It is a bright-eyed blessing in the din of our cloudy commute.

Being the son of my father, who is by trade an artist and creative visionary, I am compelled internally to view this door as a symbol of hope; a beacon of sunshine piercing through the rainy reality of cancer in my 81 year old father. I see this door and cannot help thinking, “He needs for there to be hope in this process. He needs to believe that a full recovery is possible.”

But that’s bullshit. For all I know he may have already mobilized an entire army of angels who are gracefully shepherding him through this experience with ease and confidence. In reality, it is me who needs to reach into the jelly bean jar of emotional colors to pull the sunny bean of hope into clear view. In fact, it is me who needs to tell myself that my dad is going to make it through this experience without too much suffering and without being compromised in his ability to suspect government involvement in all things mundane. It’s me who needs the arbitrary rituals of neighborly condemnation and in-depth discussion of consciousness vs non-duality to continue uninterrupted so my personal life can go on in relative peace.

But what good is non-dual theory if my dad has cancer? Indeed, what the fuck am I doing with my life when my dad recovers from cancer? Without cancer, then I’m just a 43 year-old Masshole living at my parents house spank’n the bologna to various shades of yellow! When Sri Ramana Maharshi (one of the greatest spiritual sages ever to grace the planet) was apparently dying of cancer and was asked what he was going to do about it, he simply replied, “What does cancer have to do with me?”

Yes, exactly; What does cancer have to do with me? And you know what the answer is?

Nothing.

Nothing, because similar to Ramana, cancer is not my business. And guess what, the specific form of treatment my dad chooses is not my business. And my dads body is not my business. And whether or not the CIA is monitoring how many lemon-scented shits I take every day is also not my business…

What, then is my business?

To love my dad. That is the only business I need concern myself with. It’s my job to get the fuck out of bed every day and drive my dad to the hospital for his treatments. To support him in the form of treatment he has chosen for himself and stand by his side as he goes through it. I don’t give a crap what color people paint their houses and it really doesn’t matter if my dad believes in aliens or eats too much sugar. It’s my job to be here because it’s what he needs, and right now what he needs is the exact shade of gold that I need.

I look outside the window of the car as we’re driving and Nature reflects a deep teaching to me: There is never only one leaf on the ground; they always fall together… They always grow together, live together, and are ultimately absorbed back into the huge Flaming-But-Hole-in-the-Sky together. That’s the way life is. Nothing is ever done alone. Nothing is ever separate from anything else. Driving with my dad every day for 44 days to get radiation treatment is not special, it’s natural. It’s what people do for each other. I don’t get in the way of Nature, and I don’t resist my role in the Great Conspiritor’s plan. I don’t add my own ketchup-colored narrative to the crystal translucence of Reality.

It’s my job to support my dad. It’s my job to know exactly how many yellow houses are on our daily healing path. To be always watchful for the ridiculous flaxen vestibule of hope and to exclaim at exactly the precise moment, “Yellow door!”

As we approach the hospital I am intently concluding my analysis of hope, “…41, …42, …43…”. Yes, I choose this. I choose to be with my dad. I choose to engage in these daily, mundane rituals so that we can chuckle and shake our heads in mirthful maligning of other peoples choices, that mirth flowing from the unconscious but poignant fact that we still possess the ability to choose…

Complete And Simple Silence

I wrote this poem after awakening out of the dream state into the waking state.  I was dreaming of Silence; peaceful, potent, and empty.  I awoke from that dream, yet the potency and immediacy of my contact with this silence did not alter.  I continued to dream the dream while I was awake.

Only a few times in my life have I continued to dream a dream into my waking reality, and this dream was particularly profound because it was absolutely simple and had no content. An experience that exists identically in dreaming and waking consciousness and is experienced consistently through the transition of dreaming to waking states is quite rare for me...  I want to share it with you


Complete And Simple Silence

I woke up today
To a complete and simple Silence
It lacked any qualities
And was not defined
By an absence of any noise

Then I woke up again in my bed
The dreamer rising again into form
From dream state to waking state
From Absolute to I

And yet
As I was born again into this world
Complete and simple Silence remained
All pervasive
All sentient

I've never dreamed about the peace of Silence
But there it was
Complete and simple in Itself
So simple that I fell effortlessly through the gap
And all there was
Was Peace

The peace of no I

The Mask and Spiritual Bypassing

Part 1: What is the Mask

There is a psychological function in all human beings whose primary function is to hide anything that is considered "bad" and instead present what is "good". We call this psychological process or phenomenon the Mask.

The Mask is anything that we consciously or unconsciously use to cover over what we believe is not worthy or welcome for display. It is a precise and strategic presentation of an idealized sense of self. It's what we think the world wants from us and what we need to present to the world in order to acquire love, approval, or appreciation. The Mask covers what we deeply fear and subsequently repress.

For example, if I grew up in a family where sadness was not ok, I might develop a fake smile which tries to cover sadness anytime it's experienced. Then, in my adult life, I will tend to default to my smiling everything-is-ok Mask whenever I encounter sadness in myself or others. In this case, smiling is the Mask and sadness is what it's attempting to cover (hide, deny, obscure, etc).

The important thing to understand is that it's not the specific thought, feeling, emotion, or behavior that makes it a Mask. An experience is only a Mask if it's being used to cover over some other experience that is feared and being negatively judged. In the previous example, sadness is considered bad, and so it gets masked with smiling because that's what the person believes the world wants to see instead.

In this way, anything can be a Mask. The only true indicator that it is a Mask is a nagging sense of inauthenticity in our hearts. The Mask is fake, false, "full of shit". It is a saccharine disguise whose effort creates a reciprocal suffering deep within our sense of self. Every ounce of effort put forth by the Mask eventually translates into tension and stress in the heart, mind, and body. It takes a tremendous amount of life-force energy to uphold a Mask, and this sustained, inauthentic efforting is experienced as suffering.

The Mask is a psychological defense system designed to present an "appropriate" self to ourselves and the world. If vulnerability was prohibited in my early childhood environment, then I may develop a mask of power and/or competence to prove to those around me that I am not vulnerable. In my adult life I will deny and suppress vulnerability in myself in order to win the love and approval of my primary care givers (usually my parents) and I will make every effort to appear powerful.

Similarly, in an attempt to rid myself of all vulnerability I might also avoid and condemn anyone else who exhibits or appears vulnerable. I might see someone who is expressing vulnerable feelings and automatically recoil from them in disgust. Or I may try to get them to be more powerful so that I don't have to feel the discomfort of experiencing their vulnerability. In other words, I might try to get them to mask their vulnerability with power so they fit into my world view and my personal identity isn't disturbed.

The Mask is a false self, an attempt to cover over and/or deny anything that the self deems is bad (forbidden unworthy, evil, taboo, wrong, etc)

Part 2: What is Spiritual Bypassing?

Now that we've defined the Mask, let's talk about this catchy new-age phrase called "Spiritual Bypassing". What does it actually mean?

Spiritual bypassing is the phenomenon whereby a person attempts to cover the forbidden aspects of self with a "spiritual" sense of self. Again, the idea is that somehow being "spiritual" is better than being whatever the person considers to be not spiritual.  

"Spiritual Bypassing" is just a particular kind of Mask and how that Mask functions. The "spiritual" part refers to a particular belief system that is being exalted; the belief that there are certain feelings, ideas, behaviors that express spiritual attainment or accomplishment. These feelings tend to be exclusively positive, often leaning heavily toward bliss, joy, and a very nauseating version of non-reactivity (repression of negativity). The spiritual Mask tends to assert that "It's all love, man", which, when observed, instantly reveals it's condemnation toward anything that's not love (grief, anger, sadness, evil, envy, hatred).

Basically, the orientation toward being spiritual bypasses and denies all the yucky "unspiritual" stuff by trying to rise above it. It masks and exiles anything that doesn't fit into an exclusively positive world view. Any mask can be frustrating to experience because it's foundation is inauthenticity, and our inherent longing as humans is to experience wholeness and connection. For me, spiritual bypassing is particularly distasteful because it's often shrouded in superiority.  Not only am I spiritual and denying all my own negativity, but I also believe that I am better than you because of it!

To identify what Masks might be operating within you, observe when you have a negative judgment about someone else. What is rejected in the self will always be equally rejected in others. If you notice that there is something annoying and/or repulsive about someone else try to determine specifically what it is about them that is intolerable. Once you've identified that, see if there's a way in which you condemn that same experience in yourself. Then try to identify the thought, feeling, emotion or behavior which expresses itself to mask the forbidden experience. This is one way to identify your Mask, and subsequently a very powerful way to move into deeper authenticity in your life.

Here is a small list of possible feelings/behaviors/orientations and what they may be masking:

Anger masks sadness
Arrogance masks inferiority
Beauty masks fear that I won't be accepted for who I am

Excessive do-gooding masks fear of being bad
Excessive work/busyness masks fear of intimacy/feeling

Happiness masks grief/depression

Intelligence masks ignorance

Laughter masks anxiety/discomfort/pain
Non-reactivity masks rage 

Overtalking masks fear of receiving or being seen

Openness masks fear of rejection

Perfection masks fear of failure

Power masks vulnerability
Politeness masks impulsiveness
Seduction/flirtation masks vulnerability
Submissiveness masks fear of conflict
Superiority masks inferiority
Tension masks sensation
Quiet masks anxiety/power

Leave a comment and tell me about your mask!

CLICK HERE to experience a Transformational Healing session with Sarkis Love!

www.SarkisLove.com

The Womb of Possibilities

It seems like there are rare moments in life when we are invited, often through extraordinary crisis or struggle, to surrender completely...

What if that moment was right now?  What if you didn't need to wait for the perfect circumstances to let go? What would actually happen if you lay down and let life take you...?

Before the thinking mind serves you a conveniently logical answer to these questions, take a risk, and read these words...

Maggi Hambling, Summer Wave Tunnel, 2010

The Womb of Possibilities

I want you to fuck me
I want to be destroyed by you
I want you to take me to the edge of what I can tolerate
And hold me there in the ecstatic possibility of total release

Then
Gently and tenderly
Ease back just a whisper
So I can experience the unfolding rapture
Of a full breath

I want you to make me gasp for that breath!
It is in the center of that gasping
That my will to live is born

Before that moment
Before you made me gasp
I was lost in the horror
Of my own preferences
Being tortured by an endless litany
Of self-absorbed necessities:
“I need to be loved” “I need you to accept me” “I need you to be honest with me.”

Fuck that
I need you to fuck me!
With your eyes
With your sounds
With your mountains
With your galaxies!

I need you to penetrate me completely
To take my breath away and give it back to me again, and again, and again
To remind me
That this breath was already given to me
And it will be taken away
When She
Is ready to devour me
Back into the Womb
Of Possibilities




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The Aloha Spirit

I pull into Patao Gas & Go in Wailuku, HI to get my safety check on my car. There's some confusion on where to wait so I pull into a parking space in order to get out of the road. A man who was there before me rolls down his window and seems a bit angry that I am cutting him in line. I explain my maneuver and he and another gentleman appear to visibly relax, knowing that I'm not trying to cheat them in some way...

It's a long wait before we are to be serviced, so I park my car and run across the street to buy an iced tea. While I'm there, I think of the two men in their big trucks and wonder if they'd like an iced tea as well. I decide that they do, so I buy three iced teas and return to the inspection center.

I walk up to the window of each car and hand each of the men an iced tea. Big smiles and shakas (the "shaka" is widely used hand gesture in Hawaiian culture) prevail, and we all nod and grunt to each other the way men do when confronted with outward displays of affection for each other.

For some reason the line my car is in is taking three times as long as the other line, and I'm starting to become annoyed at the wait. I'm also a bit worried because my financial situation is more tenuous than even my hippie wandering heart feels comfortable with.

Just when my agitated inner dialogue begins to fester into outward complaining, suddenly a man is standing at my window. It's the older of the gentleman whom I gave an iced tea to.

Handing me $20 is cash, he says to me, "I believe in the Aloha Spirit... You made an old man happy today." He pats me warmly on the shoulder and a deluge of grandfatherly warmth radiates from his huge Aloha Heart.

I'd been having a difficult day, so of course I burst into tears when he drives away, but since that moment the difficulty fluxed back into mild sadness from it's previous position of mind-captivating intensity.

I'm not entirely sure what the "Aloha Spirit" is, but I'm pretty sure It's radiance was shining on me today...

I am grateful. Grateful that there is real kindness and generosity that happens between human beings.
Aloha

Ps - My car did NOT pass the safety inspection
Pps - I ate a pint of Ben & Jerry's Mint Oreo Cookie iced cream when I got home



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Spirituality vs Direct Experience

Part 1: The Myth of Spirituality 

Have you ever had a spiritual experience? Have you ever heard someone talking about their spiritual teacher or their spiritual beliefs? Maybe you have a friend who, according to you and/or them, is very spiritual or living a spiritual life?

Have you also ever wondered, "What does that actually mean?"

I want to confront something that I think holds status as potentially one of the biggest mass delusions operating on this planet. I want to challenge a basic assumption that is built into the entire fabric of our daily existence:


There is no such thing as Spirituality.

Haven't you noticed?! Isn't it curious that when someone uses the word "spirituality," 95% of the time you have to wait at least a few sentences to discover or clarify what they're actually talking about? Isn't it shocking that even two people in the same faith, of the same religion, at the same time and in the same place still do not agree on what experience the word spirituality is actually pointing to?

But that's the current reality of it. Outside of vague concepts and intellectual beliefs, most people seem unable to communicate what their experience of spirituality actually is.

I understand that we need words to talk, and that talking through the use of words is one way that we communicate meaning to each other.  I also get that the word spirituality is useful as a pointer to many topics such as the human Spirit, religious beliefs or values, personal growth efforts, sacred or supernatural phenomena, or the search for meaning itself.  But, after thousands of years of searching for that meaning, the word spirituality is still elusive in delivering something worth biting into...

With risk of being burned at the stake by all the religious fundamentalists, I'd like to propose that the word "spiritual" is itself a bypassing of a more fundamental issue in the way we operate with each other: I tend to use that word when I don't know what (the bleep) I'm talking about.


Spirituality is basically a synonym for "I don't know." It is everything that is outside of my personal realm of understanding. It generally refers to experiences that cannot be consistently verified or repeated within the realm of my 5 senses. 

If an experience stretches beyond my personal experience, that is to say, beyond my personal belief system, my mind goes into panic and tries to orient itself toward the known. My mind scrambles for safety by giving it the biggest and most robust label it can find so as to avoid confronting the vast expanse of the unknown, which the ego experiences as the annihilation of it's own existence.

I believe this movement toward using the word spiritual is an escape into the safety of the known, and simultaneously a commitment to imprisonment in the largest conceptual jail cell I've ever be in. If I experience something but I can't immediately see, touch, taste, hear, or smell it, and it doesn't fit into my pristinely decorated sense of self, it either doesn't exist or it has to be scapegoated to the nebulous zone of spirituality.

Instead of hanging out in that unknown, in that limitless space of potentiality, I retreat into the comfort of my own bedazzled cage, and then wonder why I am living this "spiritual" life yet still longing for freedom, peace, and basic connection.

I'm not ever going to feel free if I'm in a cage, even if that cage is painted with murals of God.


Part 2: Direct Experience

I invite you to make this inquiry; the next time you or someone else wants to use the word "spiritual" (or God, Love, Energy), first ask yourself, "What am I actually experiencing in this moment?" Pause and notice, “Are there any sensations in my body? Is there a dominant emotion connected to this experience? Is my mind struggling to find meaning within predetermined beliefs or concepts?” If you cannot connect to exactly what you are experiencing here and now, see if you can find the courage to let go... Just let go and be with the experience.

I think it's important to acknowledge that there is something profound and universal, that most people experience, which the mind struggles and ultimately fails to comprehend. Words like God, Spirituality, and Energy are all pointers toward that experience, but the moment that it's labeled it becomes a limited approximation of the real thing. This dilemma is much more an example of the limitation of words than it is a limitation in our ability to experience what the words are pointing to.

If I suspend the need to define, label, or in any way understand what's arising in my experience, eventually the meaning of that experience is confirmed within the direct experience itself. I believe that spirituality is ultimately a search for meaning. And, I notice that the meaning of an experience is inherent within that experience before I label it ("spiritual", or otherwise). The obvious question then becomes, "Is that label necessary for me to know the truth of what that label is pointing to?"  I implore you to check this out for yourself.

A friend came to me recently and was complaining about a painful experience she had with her friend.  My friend concludes her remarks with something like, "Trust me, he's a slime bag!"  

I love my friend, I want to support her.  Unconsciously I also want her to love, appreciate, and approve of me... As I was sitting there with her I watched my mind spin in the unknown, "What if it's true that he's a slime bag?  Maybe she is in danger.  Maybe I should do something about this...!"  

But then I noticed that, if I'm honest, I really don't know what this man is like. I've never actually met the man! I noticed my mind wanting to align with her story in order to satisfy my ego's need to feel safe and secure in my friendship with her.  Instead of defaulting to believing her, I let go of any judgment of him and returned to what I did know; that my friend is in pain and I care about her deeply. That's the only thing I know for sure.

Without the confirmation of my direct experience I am just another believer. I have to lean into some kind of blind faith or trust that my friend is being honest with me, or follow the vague shadow of past knowns and future possibilities to know what's true. Some days I might falter and seek to fill the gaping void of the unknown with judgments or well educated presuppositions, "Yeah, what an ass; he shouldn't talk to you that way!"  On a good day I might try to leap over the unknown with a healthy dose of faith, "Oh, sweetheart, it's all going to work out in the end..."  

But, on the best of days, and at the final calling..., faith always yields to direct experience.  I won't know what that man is actually like until I experience him for myself.  Similarly, if I want to be honest about my life and how I communicate it to myself and others, I need to practice sharing things that are confirmed by my direct experience.

I don't want to be a believer. I don't want to follow in anyone else's footsteps. I don't want to believe anything anyone ever tells me, no matter how spiritual or God-like it sounds. I need to prove it for myself, otherwise I am just a slave in the machine of mass suffering, oppression, and victimhood. 

If I don't taste it for myself I will still be hanging by the precarious threads of belief.  It's ok to believe as long as I'm ok with being in a position of impotence and dependability. But I don't like being in that position. I don't like being a victim. I'd rather know it for myself, then I am empowered and secure with direct knowledge. Anyone can challenge my beliefs, but no one can challenge my direct experience.

It seems to me that every atrocity that has ever transpired on this planet happened under a blood-stained banner of beliefs. I want to put that banner down. I want to have the courage to not know what this experience means or where any of it is going. I want to take responsibility for all of my labels, especially the glittery spiritual, religious, or new age ones, and stand in the fire of my own Truth.

I want abandon belief and stand in the only confirmation I will ever get; My direct experience.



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