The Face on the Altar

 The Face on the Altar

By Cheeseburger Buddha

There was another dream—perhaps the most vivid of all—that came to me during a week-long sesshin at the San Francisco Zen Center.

In the dream, I was lying on the lawn of the Museum of Natural History in San Francisco. It was peaceful. I rose and began walking toward the museum’s entrance. As I approached, I saw great men and women of history—Mahatma Gandhi, John F. Kennedy, Albert Einstein—standing casually outside, as though conversing across time.

Inside, two individuals appeared and silently ushered me through the grand hallway toward an immense altar. A brilliant, blinding light descended from above, obscuring the top portion of it. The presence was divine and beyond comprehension.

As we reached the altar, one of my guides turned to me and warned,
“Whatever you do, do not look up at the figure on the altar.”

I began to bow.

Once.
Twice.

And then… I looked up.

I had to.

There, illuminated in the blinding light, was my own face staring back at me.

The moment I recognized it, the dream dissolved.

I was abruptly back in the Zendo, back in my aching body, feeling every knot, every fatigue, every weight of seven days of silent meditation.

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Two dreams remain with me.
In one, I stood sword in hand, facing my nemesis. I dropped the weapon and took upon myself his skull, becoming him.
In this one, I bowed at the altar of the divine… and saw myself.

In both, the line between self and other disappeared.

There is no enemy.
There is no higher being.
Only the formless mystery within ourselves, waiting to be seen—and remembered.

And sometimes, to see it, one must bow…
…and still break the rule.

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