The Choice of Enlightenment

 

A million stars shine coldly, by themselves,

     and wanting more, we count ourselves among them,

inconsequential.

empty the body to distance the mind, and sink back

into starless oblivion.

 

          The flight from Paris to Los Angeles was long and tiring. Sitting wearily in my aisle seat, I was relieved it was almost over. As if eager to escape the monotonies of air travel, my eyes closed and I drifted off into a semi-conscious state. Although vaguely aware of my surroundings, my mind was empty. Without emotion, thought, or a feeling of surprise, I left my body and went outside, just beyond the left wing, where I impassionately observed our plane. It was approaching the runway, and exactly when I saw the wheels touch the ground, I was jolted out of my semiconscious state. At that moment, I knew I'd had an out-of-body experience.

         Such an experience has happened to me only once during my adult life. However, reflecting upon this incident caused me to remember repeated early childhood episodes of a similar nature. They occurred when I was about six or seven years old, and although I had essentially forgotten them, having not brought them to conscious thought for decades, the incident in the plane caused me to remember them most vividly.

         As a boy, I would curl up in the fetal position on the bamboo sofa in the living room of our Santa Cruz beach house. I'd always use the same chair and the same position. I'd close my eyes and wait motionless for about 10 minutes until I lost awareness of any bodily sensation. Then I'd leave my body and float to the ceiling of the room, next to the wall bordering my sister's bedroom. I always went to the same place, about 8 yards behind my physical body, near the plate glass window that gave us a splendid view of the beach and bay. The room and its contents, including myself, would be fully visible to me. In this state I would passively view the articles in the room without emotion or thought. It was always the same. This was not an experience that particularly held my interest; I'd stay there for a minute or two before bringing myself back by opening my eyes or moving my body ever so slightly, once again becoming aware of physical sensation. I didn't realize I might be experiencing something unusual. As a child, I found hovering over the living room in a semiconscious state rather boring, and I discontinued the practice. It never occurred to me that I might some day reflect on these incidents and consider them something extraordinary.

         I've never experienced other types of psychic phenomena, such as extrasensory perception, clairvoyance, or communication with another person or animal at a distance without the aid of a telephone or computer. Only once have I ever experienced hallucinations. That one occasion occurred after staying up two nights in a row to study for finals in college at U.C. Berkeley. Nevertheless, I have had remarkable feelings of selfless unity with the world. This has happened, for example, while I'd be lying in my hammock in the back yard of our house in Encinitas, drifting off into a semiconscious state. As I'd drift off, I would become aware of the immensity of the universe and the inconsequential nature of any human being such as myself. In this state, I was no different from anyone else; it didn't matter who I was or whom I was married to; it didn't even matter if I was alive or dead. In fact nothing mattered at all. The ego had left me. It was neither upsetting nor depressing; nor was it uplifting. Like my out of body experiences, there was no conscious thought or emotional content. There was no effort. I was in an in-between state, hovering between happiness and sadness, between pain and pleasure, almost between worlds.

         Only after I'd come out of such a state would I realize that I'd experienced something remarkable. It was not until after the occasion that I realized I'd experienced something analogous to the enlightened state described by Buddha and some of the world's other prophets. This realization made the experience seem special, but there was still nothing exciting or extraordinary about the experience itself. In fact, there was a general lack of self-awareness. It was similar to my out-of-body experiences in being totally lacking in emotion, but it differed from the latter in that it included a feeling of unity--oneness with the world.

         Once my friend Paula took me to meet her Indian guru, a man she felt was enlightened. We went to his home and joined a group of about eight of his followers in discussions about the paths to enlightenment. Several of the attendees were striving to achieve such a state. The guru told us how joyfully exhilarating and fulfilling it was to experience this state. I quietly listened without comment as he elaborated on and embellished his descriptions. I felt skeptical because they didn't at all match my own experiences. So when he asked for questions or comments, I related my personal experiences, noting how totally free of emotions I was when in this egoless state. I described my perception of indifferent, emotionless oneness. He listened to me patiently, but with unquestioning surprise, and then told us humbly that his descriptions had in fact probably been excessive; mine were closer to reality. It was clear that he and I had had similar experiences and that we could relate. I left feeling self assured and confident of the validity of my experiences but questioning the value of its impact on me.

         These experiences, as well as fairly extensive philosophical and religious readings, have caused me to recognize fundamental differences between Eastern and Western thought. In the East, the selfless, enlightened state is the ultimate goal, while in the West most individuals strive for individual happiness. Heaven, or at least heaven on Earth, is the goal. But one notices other integral differences: in the East, traditionally man seeks to blend into nature, while in the West, we attempt to dominate nature. In Eastern medicine, the goal is to find a means to channel disruptive bodily energies and prevent damage, but in Western medicine, the object is to try to fix a malady only after it has been identified. In other words, "don't fix it unless it's broke." In Eastern thought, there is greater acceptance of the inevitable conclusion of life's struggles, whereas in the West we fight this outcome with all our means and might.

         Why have East and West put forth such distinctively different approaches and attitudes towards life and death? Maybe life in ancient Eastern countries such as India and China was nearly intolerable, with much pain, suffering, and loss, so escape from life was a desired goal. But in the West, where conditions were substantially better, the ancients hoped to do better than break even. Indeed, having experienced the neutral state, I, a Westerner, don't feel that this is a satisfactory goal. I want more! I want to satisfy my ego rather than lose it; I want to experience pleasure rather than merely avoid pain; I want to live life to its fullest!

         I am convinced that many ordinary people have experienced the Enlightened State I've described, but many of them have just not recognized it or even cared. Perhaps the simplest of people, with no pursuits, no ambitions, no strivings, are the most likely to find Enlightenment. And their experiences will then further their conviction that there is no reason to pursue ego-satisfying, personal goals. After all, it's of no consequence to the world if a person dies, or even if we humans destroy the Earth and its biosphere. In the flow of nature, and in the perspective of the immensity of the universe, it doesn't really matter what we do or what we destroy. It doesn't matter if we conduct ourselves in a fashion that leads to human extinction. It doesn't matter if our actions cause tremendous pain and suffering. The universe will not notice.

But to an egocentric human, such as myself, one who enjoys and identifies with our beautiful Earth and its biosphere, the loss of this beauty seems like an incredible tragedy, one that should be avoided at all costs. Whether we identify with the East or the West, I think few of us want to sacrifice or destroy the world we have come to love. Recognition of the immensity of the universe and the insignificance of planet Earth doesn't change our predilection to protect and preserve the planet and environment that provided a backdrop for our youthful dreams.