This
Page 19
There is a famous story that is told about the origin of Zen Buddhism in which the Buddha, Siddhārtha Gautama, presents a wordless sermon by simply holding up a white flower before his disciples. The only one to understand the sermon was the disciple Mahākāśyapa, who is said to have smiled in response.
The secret at the heart of that and every flower is the direct wisdom of suchness—it is the experience of THIS.
To realize the beholder is the beheld is the secret at the heart of every rose.
The entire universe is being presented at every moment as the Buddha’s wordless sermon. Every flower, blade of grass, sunbeam, heartbeat, and period at the end of a sentence is Incarnation—Word becoming flesh, void becoming form. Our direct awareness of it all is the Goddess gazing at and as herself, fully and wildly naked and THIS. He is the crucified one, broken and poured out for the good and possibility of the world. She is the wounded one who eats of the fruit of knowledge in order to give birth to herself, even if that means temporarily lying to herself in the form of serpents and other forms of embodied patriarchy like popes, priests, and presidents. It is in the full and direct experience of THIS that Wisdom rings out:
In this moment, Behold thyself, resplendent Queen who is everything and everyone. Thou art seen. Thou art known. Thou art loved.
I love the mixture of all these myths and metaphors that have formed my experience of this magnificent existence. Holding them loosely, I feel like a child again. Unencumbered. Free to play, to sing, to dance before I knew what “good” playing, singing, or dancing was supposed to look like.
My daughter Amelie has a fairy garden in our backyard. I don’t know exactly where it is or what marvels it holds. She doesn’t feel the need to show me that, and that’s okay with me. I know it’s a secret place for her that is magical and special and as real as anything else because it’s part of her imagination and therefore her experience.
The way I see it now, all of our myths and worldviews, all of our religions and political structures, every language and book and empire—they’re all our fairy gardens, constructs of imagination that allow us to have the experiences that are to happen in this particular game of God-made-flesh. If we don’t hold on too fiercely, we’ll grow up eventually and the gardens will evolve. Maybe someday I’ll see that all of my running about from tree to tree is immature and will find the need to constrict my usage of metaphors. But now I feel young, alive, and free. I am like a young seedling who fell from the branches of these great and wise elders. Much of the time, I run around with various twigs from different trees in my hand—Vishnu Dass, lover of Christ, student of the Buddha. Perhaps I too often do not give the ancient stories the respect they deserve—thinking that I can casually dismiss entire branches of these giants with a chuckle and a turn of the head, and mindlessly opt instead for the flexibility and logging potential of the younger and less-established trees. But I am still learning. I am still listening. And as all those commercials for the United Church of Christ say, “God is still speaking.”
So what kind of games will God play with this life I’m experiencing? I would enjoy spending my life playing in a way that results in less suffering for people who are really deeply trapped within it. I’d love to spend my imagination on delightful games like making music, writing books, and having silly dance parties with my girls rather than on other games like boredom, war, or hatred. I’d love to play like a child who loses himself in his play, but not to the point where I lose the knowledge that it is a game. I’d love to live the kind of life that Guru Jesus taught us about—a life to the fullest. A life with more love than fear. More faith than cynicism. Jesus knew that the full reality of THIS was beyond words, so rather than formulating doctrines or dogmas made of words that most of us forget are inherently made of stories, he usually told the stories more directly.
And that’s why, in writing this book, I didn’t want to just give you words and ideas. I wanted to also share with you some of my story, because that’s where I’ve experienced THIS. And as such, it is your story, too. The words, ideas, and fairy gardens are lovely enough, but they are abstractions, not the truth itself. All of the words in this book are just more myths to play with and then let go of. I’m no guru for you to follow. I’m just God playing the part of a flighty, absurdist musician living in Los Angeles. I have no life-changing wisdom to offer you that hasn’t been written a thousand times before, but I, too, have looked at the flowers and seen that there is nothing to worry about. I, like you, too, perhaps, beloved, have felt deep betrayal, crippling depression, and tremendous pain, and yet here I am, still alive and with magical twenty-one-chromosomed baby gloob on my chest, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. How could I? Have you heard this Music? It’s everything.
9. Reaching the Source
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48. Hafiz, “This Place Where You Are Now,” in The Gift: Poems by Hafiz, the Great Sufi Master, trans. Daniel Ladinsky (New York: Penguin, 1999).
Acknowledgments
Lisa, Guzlam, Isla, my soul, my heart, thank you for sharing your life with me and teaching me so much about THIS.
Amelie, my fairy princess. You make my life magical, and I love you more than words can say.
Lu, you are God’s very kiss on my cheek. Never stop being a rascal.
Mom and dad. I am so proud to be your son. Part of me hopes that you don’t read this book, as there are parts of it that you probably will not enjoy reading very much, but I want you and everyone else to know how happy I am to have parents like you. This book contains a lot of my old drama, but there was so much more good than bad in my life, and I will always be grateful to both of you for all the love and life that you gave me.
Mike McHargue, my business partner and dearest friend, you are a strange and wonderful creature, and you make my life so rich. Your thoughts and perspectives have always sharpened and challenged me, and this book is definitely better for it.
Robert, David, Lissa, what a joy to be your big brother. You all make me proud. Don’t tell mom about the mushrooms part in the book.
Nancy, your editing was a lifesaver for this book. To work with someone who “sees” was very important for me, and I am so happy to have come across your path. Thank you for all the hard work and inspiring conversation.
To Chris, Jan, and everybody else at Roundtree, thank you for partnering with me on this endeavor. Not many publishing companies would extend the trust and freedom that I felt working with you. Thank you for believing in me and in this book. I’m honored to be able to share it with the world with you.
To all my friends and family and listeners and readers and meditators: thank you for making my life the most magnificent journey I could imagine. This book is for you.
Text copyright © 2019 Michael Gungor
Jacket and interior illustrations copyright © 2019 Regina Shklovsky and Rob Dolgaard
Case art copyright © 2019 Shutterstock
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available.
ISBN: 978-1-944903-81-7 (e-book)
ISBN: 978-1-944903-61-9 (paperback)
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Publisher: Chris Gruener
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Managing Editor: Jan Hughes
Editorial Assistant: Mason Harper
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10. Returning to the World
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