Barry, I enjoyed this as well as your piece on taking criticism of a guru as criticism of a person personally.
The only piece I have to add is that path for me implies teleology. A path has a place it goes that is at the end of the path and could be called the goal of the path. My life doesn't look like that since I stepped "off the path." I prefer the model set up for martial artists which is that of a Bushido code of conduct, principles to guide your life. Although unlike the martial artists, mine are selected by me and not the badass head of the dojo. It ends up that these organizing principles do guide my life in the direction of better. (again self-defined but so obvious that they are not really up for dispute) But since my life's "path" leads to disability (hopefully short) and death (hopefully merciful) that model doesn't seem too useful for me now. I am just wandering, guided by my own principles. I have plenty of short term goals that I pursue, but a life without the guiding principle of teleology hanging over my head like the sward of Damocles (Totally pretentious reference I know, but what a F'ing image!) seems to suit me. I am not on the Yellow brick road, but am romping in the poppies but not, you know as a "friend of Dorthy" (not that there is anything wrong with it). http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RG2keYgBiZc (Please note that the solution for the poppy induced sleep is "snow" which provides us with the perfect metaphorical reference to the speed-ball that ended up in John Belushi's arm on the last night of his...path I guess. --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, turquoiseb <no_reply@...> wrote: > > The path. We spiritual types throw that word around a lot. And many of > us have the ability to tell who is "on the path" and who is "off the > path." Or at least some say they do. Me, I'm less convinced, because > many of the highest conversations I've ever had were with people who > were not on my particular spiritual path, or even had one of their own > that they could put a name to. And yet all of these conversations seemed > to me to be "on the path." > > A good conversation, to me, is one that flows easily, and leaves all > participants in it not only satisfied with it, but having learned a > little something. I've had those conversations with fellow students or > with my teachers when I was pursuing a formal spiritual path, and I've > had them with strangers in bars who had no path to speak of. The flow, > the mutual respect, and the openness to learn something were the > important thing. One of the things that makes for a good conversation > for me, in fact, is when the question of path never even comes up. > Nothing squelches a potentially good conversation more than one party in > it feeling the need to invoke the name of his teacher or his spiritual > path every 2-3 minutes. > > Being me, I tend to associate the really good conversations I've had > with the places in which I had them. And I've noticed over time that > some places -- restaurants, bars, saloons, power places in nature, > churches and even brothels -- tend to *generate* good conversations. And > I'm not alone in that assessment; I once found myself sitting at the bar > at Yab Yum (at the time the most famous brothel in Amsterdam, and to > which I had free access because I'd done a favor for its owner, not > because I was patronizing its wares) next to a highly-ranked English > diplomat, a Swiss industrialist worth billions, and a rock star who will > go unnamed except that I was not surprised to see him there. > > We got to talking about why we all came here regularly to drink (none > seemed terribly interested in the establishment's main product), and of > course everyone mentioned the obvious -- the decor, and its Old World > elegance. We're talking a *lovely* bar, reflecting all of the best of > Dutch tradition, but also decorated with authentic Asian art. We're > talking statues of Buddhas and dakinis and gods and goddesses that rival > any in the Asian Wing of Amsterdam's most famous art museum. The "moving > decor," in the form of some of the most beautiful women any of us had > ever seen, was of course mentioned, and didn't hurt. But finally it was > the rock star who nailed it, and who thus jump-started the real meat of > the good conversation that followed it. He said, in his distinctive > lower-class British accent, "I come here because I always have just the > BEST conversations here." Bingo. I probably learned as much from what > was said afterwards as I have from all of the talks I've ever heard from > any of my spiritual teachers combined. The conversation just *nailed* > the fact that for all four of us -- on completely different paths or the > lack of one -- we all had found a similar path: we just *loved* good > conversations. In our respective memories, we "punctuated our life > story" with the good conversations we've had. > > Besides Yab Yum, the power place that has generated the most > consistently good conversations for me is the bar at the La Posada hotel > in Santa Fe. Again, it's a lovely bar, decor-wise. The hotel occupies > one of the oldest mansions in Santa Fe; one of Santa Fe's richest > families lived in the mansion for many years. The matron of this family > -- Julia -- committed suicide there and has been repeatedly viewed as > still hanging around, as a ghost. That alone makes for an interesting > bar. > > [ To avoid any "Now he's saying he sees ghosts" nonsense, I shall state > for the record that I never once saw Julia, even though this bar and > hotel were among my most frequent hangouts in Santa Fe. I even went to > the trouble of staying in her former room one night, because that was > where the ghost made her most frequent appearances. Stayed up much of > the night waiting. Didn't see a damned thing. The only > out-of-the-ordinary thing I can report is that when I woke up the next > morning my hat was filled with urine. But that could have happened at > any of the hotels I stay in. :-) ] > > I loved this bar because it encapsulated for me one of the things I > loved most about Santa Fe: its essential, bottom-line sense of equality. > At this bar -- and in Santa Fe itself -- it didn't really matter Who You > Were In Who's Who; all that mattered was who you were. All of the > regulars wore the same jeans and T-shirts. You couldn't tell by looking > at them whether they owned the multi-million dollar palace on the hill, > or were one of the workmen helping to rebuild it, or were the drug > dealer shared by both. And you couldn't tell from their conversations, > either, because it never came up. Your value at this particular bar was > whether you could hold up your end of the conversation. Period. > > I learned a lot in that bar, on subjects ranging from politics to God, > and not once did I hear anyone bring up their "path," or spiritual > pedigree. If a former spiritual teacher or organization was ever > referenced, it was just in passing, never "for effect," as if to say, > "Hey, I studied with such-and-such...you should go 'Whoa' and weight my > words more heavily because of this." I can honestly say that from my > side the names Maharishi and Rama were never uttered in this bar. And I > had good conversations there anyway. > > *Everybody's* got a path. And IMO we can learn from all of them. To > believe otherwise -- and that one should mainly (or only) hang with > those who share your particular path -- seems to me to be an excellent > method for closing oneself off from the opportunity to learn from others > on different paths. >
