Posted: 23/3/2013
The Faith
"It had become clear to me that I had no hope of the bliss of the world to come save through a God-fearing life and the withdrawal of myself from vain desire. It was clear to me too that the key to all this was to sever the attachment of the heart to worldly things by leaving the mansion of deception and returning to that of eternity, and to advance towards God Most High with all earnestness."
— Abu Hamid al-Ghazali, al-Munqidh, p.98 (Eng. trans. by Watt)
Like the Buddha several thousand years before him, Al-Ghazali acknowledges the problem of "vain desire"—this is the second principle of the Buddha’s Four Noble Truths: that suffering is caused by desire.
This realization is what frees man from the chains of this material realm where nothing is permanent and all is but fleeting mirages—clouds in an empty sky.
In Zen practice, the mind is put under very close scrutiny—not by resisting it, nor entertaining it, but simply by not validating or judging it. No desire to attach or detach. The mind is the source of desire. Thoughts and consciousness arise endlessly every moment of our lives, yet we are mostly unaware of them. Thus, we are led by them unconsciously. They become the substance of our waking dreams.
In zazen, we simply sit and observe. We bring bare attention to the mind. When the mental noise subsides, we begin to sense the stillness in the ‘gap’—and it is in that space we may catch a glimpse of the Truth, or our Original Nature.
Why is this understanding so crucial to me?
It is the culmination of my years of study. It feels like graduating—at least in a spiritual sense—knowing a little more. Detachment from the material world is not about denial. It is not negating what is. Rather, it is acknowledging what is not. It has taken me many years to arrive at this simple fact of life, guided by two vastly different teachers of faith—each trying to awaken the sleeping multitude of their times from the darkness of ignorance: the Buddha, and the Prophet of Allah (PBUH).
Hence the crux of the matter: Read. Iqra! Learn. Seek to understand the deeper meaning of your life—what is hidden from you through neglect and unconscious living. The Atman. The Ruh. The Soul. The center of the Universe.
"That which is a Universe far greater exists within you, and you think you are small and insignificant."
— Imam Ali (RA)
Ali, the Prophet’s nephew, is said to be “the key to knowledge,” while the Prophet (PBUH) is the archive itself.
Read Eckhart Tolle, or Jiddu Krishnamurti. Read Huxley, or the Dalai Lama. Read the Holy Books. See how they all point in the same direction—toward peace among mankind, toward reducing suffering and increasing happiness. Toward rest—for the world has been spinning in chaos for far too long.
I spent many sleepless years trying to make sense of this nonsense we call life. At times I felt like a man possessed—obsessed with my own mind, my thoughts, my perceptions. I watched my mind replay and relive moments again and again, trying to make things right, to learn something, to make peace with what had transpired.
And so it went—episode after episode, playing out in the theater of my mind. Until some form of resolution was reached, and that episode faded into the background. But only to be replaced by another. And on it goes. Isn’t this how most of us live? Seeing life through the multiple lenses of memory and assumption, half-asleep?
Years ago, during the painful period of my divorce, I was saved by someone who encouraged me to continue my education. (I’ve shared this story in an earlier blog, so I won’t repeat it here.) But I realized that nothing is ever truly resolved in the mind. The mind just files it all away, like some massive library of memory, accessible at will—sometimes even when you don’t want it. Sometimes, without warning, old thoughts bubble up and... boom! More ramblings. More arguments. More justifications. More mental chatter.
A never-ending story.
This has been my His-Story. The road that led me to my sanctuary—my Dharma position, my place in the sun, my home base. I live now among friends and relatives who accept me as I am. And I feel free—free to continue researching this thing called life, even if I no longer feel compelled to.
I will continue to blog for as long as I am able. This is my way of letting go—of unburdening myself from years of accumulated thoughts, knowledge, memories, and habits. From East to West, across cultures and lifetimes of decisions—this is what I share with my readers, if it makes for interesting reading.
As I’ve always said, this is the journey of one man’s self-discovery, albeit through the side and back doors of religion. A walk into the spiritual unknown, where the mind is no more.
I want to find my way through—with awareness, free of unconsciousness. I refuse to be led by the nose toward my grave, like cattle to slaughter. I wish to die of my self before I am physically dead.
That which I call "myself" is still a construct of my thoughts. A projection of the mind. A man who thinks he is not who he thinks he is.
Yes, it’s a long, long road. One that has no end until the Fat Lady sings the blues and the cards are laid bare on the table. Past, present, and future flashing before your eyes—and you are no more.
What do you say then?
“See? I was right, you were wrong!”?
Oops.
Will the mind continue even beyond the grave? Will it chatter on endlessly as it does now? Or will we grow wings and float like lobotomized angels into paradise? Will the two angels who meet us in the grave be fearsome creatures meant to terrify our already terrified minds? Or will they be merciful and gentle, dissolving our fear?
Who knows?
I don’t even fully understand this life, how could I possibly comprehend the afterlife promised in Scripture?
So this has been the journey. The gravy train I rode through this life. My test. My study. My effort to share it all with the world through this medium of the Internet. My thoughts are not mine alone—they echo the voices of greater minds, from long before me, and even in my own time.
To the Buddhas, the Sufis, the Saints and Walis of Allah…
To my teachers, my spiritual guides, in Islam and Buddhism…
I dedicate this journey.
Thank you.
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