“I have been and still am a seeker, but I have ceased to question stars and books; I have begun to listen to the teaching my blood whispers to me.”
― Hermann Hesse, Demian: Die Geschichte von Emil Sinclairs Jugend
Not long after my husband’s cancer diagnosis, an urge came upon me to pare down, to ready myself for the siege. His prognosis: Less than 3 years. I didn’t have any spare time.
I went through my book shelves, throwing hundreds of spiritual books into boxes. Once that was done, Bob and I went to a bookstore called The Owl. It gave people fair deals on used books. The place used to be a Steak and Ale restaurant. It had a faux facade that was supposed to make you think of merry olde England. But that did not happen.
I still remember the place. I had come across some juicy titles here, some not readily available books, some autobiographies that were especially good. But now I had no time for that.
And there was something else. The store leased out its rooms to psychics, astrologers and others of that New Age persuasion. This is what online nonduality has become. A faux gathering place for people to pretend to be teachers. But it is for profit. Never forget that.
I was to learn that if I wanted God, I was out of luck. God was unavailable, especially in one of these rent-a-room buildings where He was said to be. Oh, don’t give me that “God is everywhere” mumbo jumbo. That’s called spinning. He is everywhere but He doesn’t read your palm. He made it, for God’s sake.
But back to the essay. I pared down and that proved to be a smart move for me. I found my writing voice. It is short and sweet. I instinctively shied away from buzz words like “pointers, enlightenment and awakening.” Instead I wrote the raw and gritty facts that I was experiencing.
Bob’s cancer took me to the front lines once again. I had been there before with our daughter. I knew that we were in this together but that I would end up alone. And so it is with the spiritual path. At some point it becomes a journey of “the alone to the Alone.” The path steepens and everyone falls away. You are indeed alone.
During Bob’s ordeal I met my friend Peter. He reinforced the truth. When the suffering becomes intolerable, you simply let go. It would have been laughable for him to enter one of those rooms.
This is a stripped down version of what happened to Peter. He became bigger than the sky. And the sky needs no human teacher doling out the knowledge in bits and pieces. It has become what it was all along.