over a hundred trained ([M15],288) with automatic weapons. Eleven armed watch towers ([M15],291) were built.

Eventually, bugging and wiretapping equipment ([M15],288) was installed. For followers who had thoughts of leaving the ranch mind-altering drugs ([M15],290) were prescribed. Such drugs were also mixed in the food ([M15],292-3) of thousands of homeless people who were bussed to the ranch to help win a local election. As legal troubles increased, some followers ([M15],295) plotted the murder of a local political official. Traditional Measures of Mystical Truth Mysticism is powerful. Historically, its ideals and ideas, its practice and theory, have shown themselves capable of deeply influencing the lives of individuals and entire civilizations. Unfortunately, what is powerful is often dangerous, too. For example, nuclear energy and biogenetic engineering are very powerful and very dangerous. Mysticism's power demands safeguards. If it is to remain healthy and sane, a mystical culture must always guard itself against ills such as superstition, charlatanry, mystification, degeneracy, and antiintellectualism. How? One safeguard is evaluating the alleged mystics themselves. Are they interested in God or their followers' bodies and money? Are they above liking and disliking or very much drawn to people and things? A later chapter discusses how mystics themselves might be examined. Another safeguard is testing and evaluating not the alleged mystic but rather their observations and statements. But how can alleged mystical statements be tested? How can we judge the private visions of an individual? And how are we to distinguish the assertions of healthy mystics from deranged mystics? It's the function of a way of knowing to test and verify statements. As we've seen, a way of knowing is a way of answering questions such as: "How can I acquire knowledge? How can I be sure my knowledge is true?" Applied to mysticism these questions become: "How can I acquire knowledge of God? How can I be sure my knowledge is true? How can the mystical be differentiated from the magical, psychic, occult, and demonic? How can healthy mysticism be distinguished from unhealthy or perverted mysticism?" But which way of knowing should we use to judge alleged mystical statements? Traditionally, religion's way of knowing has been used to evaluate such statements. Typically, religious systems accept as true only mystical visions and experiences that agree with their divine, complete, and final scripture. That is, mystical declarations are subjected to the test of religious orthodoxy; experiences and statements that disagree with scripture are declared wrong, and the alleged mystics are subjected to varying degrees of rejection - from 1

disbelief to condemnation to torture to death. Measuring statements against scripture has a few shortcomings. First, it inherits all the shortcomings of the revelational way of knowing. Second, it's sometimes sadistic: condemning writings should be sufficient, is it also necessary to torture and murder the writer? Third, it sometimes condemns seers whose only "crime" is seeing clearly, and honestly telling what they see. That is, mystics are sometime condemned for their truthfulness, vision, and forthrightness. For first-hand knowledge often disagrees with second-hand knowledge. Suppose some official keepers of the "Truth" know New York City only by books they've read. Suppose they choose a list of canonical books, "true" books, about the city. Suppose they "harmonize" any disagreements among the books with appropriate hermeneutic principles. Finally, suppose they solemnly declare the result the "One and Only Truth." Anyone who actually travels to New York is liable to see things that don't agree with the "Truth." And anyone who has the forthrightness to tell what they saw may suffer at the hands of the official "Truth" keepers. Mystics have often expressed truths which did not fit into their religion's established dogma or world view - and suffered the consequences. The Scientific Way of Knowing as the Standard Today, there's another way of knowing, the scientific way. Physics, chemistry, sociology, psychology, anthropology, and many other fields accept it as their way of knowing. Some previously followed a way of knowing much like the way used by religion: they relied on authority to decide truth. Let's look at some examples. As we've seen, physics once accepted a way of knowing similar to the revelational way. Aristotle's teachings were once believed because they were Aristotle's teachings. Eventually, physics abandoned that way of knowing and adopted the scientific way. How much more advanced would we be today if physics had changed its way of knowing earlier? We can only guess, but it's suggestive that
Aristarchus of Samos, about 270 B.C., proposed a system identical with the Copernican . . . [I]t attracted few, if any, followers, however, and there was talk of a charge of impiety being brought against him. ([T02],30).

Today, only a few fields still use the revelational way of knowing. One is astrology, which doesn't accept the scientific way of knowing and therefore is not a science. In contrast, geometry long ago abandoned the revelational way and accepted a method of knowing that eventually evolved into science's way. Because it did, even Euclid, perhaps the greatest geometer of all time, couldn't merely declare something true - he had to prove it. And his geometric theorems remained open to question, criticism, revision and

refinement. For example, for over two thousand years geometry was based on the work of Euclid: geometry was Euclidian geometry. Yet, when mathematicians discovered Non-Euclidian geometries in the nineteenth century, they weren't declared heretics or burned at the stake. No doubt some people initially questioned the usefulness of the new geometries. Eventually, however, Einstein based his theory of Relativity on one of them. For fields such as physics that once accepted the revelational way of knowing, adopting the scientific way has proven a great step forward. In field after field the revelational way of knowing has been abandoned for a superior way of knowing, the scientific way. And in field after field, this change has led to great progress. So, even though alleged mystical statements have traditionally been evaluated with religion's way of knowing we can ask if science can evaluate such statements. That is, can the scientific way of knowing be used to decide religious questions and questions of ultimate value? If it can, then science may someday be able to discuss topics that presently lie outside of its domain, inside the domain of religion. It may someday be able to create a "scientific religion." But is it reasonable - and is it in keeping with the spirit of science - to ask science to discuss "supernatural" questions? Arthur Compton, who won the Nobel Prize in physics, was one scientist who believed it was. Compton believed the scientific method could be applied to part of the religious domain, to what he calls the "supernatural" realm of "visions and hope and faith."
Those whose thinking is disciplined by science, like all others, need a basis for the good life . . . They need a faith to live by. . . . [V]isions and hope and faith are not a part of science. . . . They are beyond the nature that science knows. Of such is the true "supernatural" that gives meaning to life. This supernatural is as real as the natural world of science and is consistent with the most rigorous application of the scientific method. ([C15],369).

Of course, Compton's "supernatural" realm isn't the same as religion's domain, because most religions include more than visions, hope and faith: they include dogmas and a God who is a Person. Religion Without Dogma or a God Who Is a Person The scientific way of knowing rejects blind faith and insists on understanding and proof. Therefore, a religion that wanted to employ it couldn't teach its truth or revelation is beyond the power of the human mind to discover, understand, criticize, test, modify, or reject. Instead, all of its beliefs would be subject to testing by the scientific way of knowing. And any belief that couldn't be proven would have to be abandoned or, at best, accepted as a theoretical construct. 3

Perhaps existing religions could justify abandoning dogma as intellectual humility. After all, religion has sometimes insisted on some dogma (that the sun rotates around the earth, for example) which it later admitted was wrong. So perhaps existing dogmas could be relabeled as the official expression of religious truth according to admittedly fallible human thinkers. Dogma, then, might be downgraded from divine, unerring truth to ideas that are open to adaptation and change, able to conform to new insights and truths. But could existing religions ever abandon their Gods who are Persons? Would they have to? Would a religion necessarily have to abandon the idea of a God who is a Person if it sought to employ the scientific way of knowing? Gods who are Persons may be divided into two types: Gods like Jehovah and Allah who have not assumed human form, and Gods like Jesus and Krishna who have. The scientific way of knowing does not recognize superhuman god-men. Mozart, his almost supernatural musical gift notwithstanding, was still an ordinary fallible mortal. Gauss, his huge mathematical gift notwithstanding, was one, too. The ideas and theories of Mozart and Gauss are subject to disagreement, correction, and revision. Therefore, because the scientific way of knowing insists on understanding and rejects blind faith, the dogma that Jesus or Krishna was God in human form is incompatible, because the dogma is based on faith and not open to scientific testing or proof. What about Gods like Jehovah and Allah, for whom no human incarnation is claimed? As we've seen, there's natural monism and religious monism. The two types of monism have much in common. In fact, a scientific religion can be built upon the common area they share. But neither type of monism accepts a God who is a Person as the ultimate entity. Natural monism ignores such a God entirely; religious monism stipulates a Godhead, an Ultimate Ground of Existence, upon which all Gods who are Persons depend for their existence. Therefore, a scientific religion built on monism probably wouldn't include any actual Gods who are Persons. As we'll see later, however, a scientific religion might emphasize an aspect of the Uncreated that is very similar to Gods who are Persons. In fact, the idea of Gods who are Persons may have originally derived from this aspect of the Real: they may be this aspect of the Uncreated, misperceived or misunderstood. But isn't the idea of a God who is a Person a necessary part of religion? Albert Einstein, for one, didn't think it was. In fact, he believed the highest type of religion was free of this idea. Einstein described three types of religion: a primitive "religion of fear" ([E03],37), a more advanced "moral religion" ([E03],37), and a third type, "cosmic religious feeling" ([E03],38), which has 4

. . . no anthropomorphic conception of God . . . no dogma and no God conceived in man's image . . . ([E03],38).

Einstein believed that

. . . teachers of religion must have the stature to give up the doctrine of a personal God . . . ([E03],48) and that [t]he main source of the present-day conflicts between the spheres of religion and of science lies in this concept of a personal God. ([E03],47).

And he believed science could help "purify" religion of the idea of a God who is a Person, as well as give our life spiritual meaning.
. . . [S]cience not only purifies the religious impulse of the dross of its anthropomorphism but also contributes to a religious spiritualization of our understanding of life. ([E03],49).

Would a religion without dogma and a God who is a Person still be a religion? It would. In fact, a few existing religions already meet these requirements. Some Buddhist groups make no claims to revealed truths or to founding by a god-man or God who is a Person. To these sects, Buddha was a man who discovered certain important truths in a natural, human way, just as Euclid, Einstein, or Gauss made their discoveries. Some ultra-liberal Christian groups, and perhaps analogous groups in other religions, have similar beliefs. Such groups might easily apply the scientific way of knowing to the religious domain. However, most major religions, which believe in Gods who are Persons and in revealed, unchangeable scripture, would have to change what they've taught for hundreds, even thousands, of years to meet the requirements of the scientific way of knowing. They probably never will. But there's another possibility: science itself could extend its domain by applying its way of knowing to the raw data that the mystics provide, the descriptions of their experiences. If it did, the extension would include some of what has traditionally been in the domain of religion. The extension would be a scientific religion. What would a scientific religion be like? Like any other scientific discipline, it would have the following elements: 1) its domain of knowing, 2) its raw facts, the outcomes of experiment and observation, 3) its generalizations of fact, that is, hypotheses and laws, and 4) its explanations of fact, theories. Let's discuss each element in turn. The Domain of Knowing Biology's domain of knowing is living creatures. Sociology's domain of knowing is groups of people. What would be a scientific religion's domain? We've seen that science's domain already includes the Ultimate 5

Ground of Existence, because the eternal Basis of the universe is already studied objectively, "from the outside," by nuclear physics and, in a sense, by all the sciences. Now, through the acquisition of a scientific religion, science's domain would gain the study of the Uncaused Cause "from within." Direct experience - mystical experience - of the Eternal Root would be incorporated into science's domain. A scientific religion would use the instrument of mystical awareness to study and explore the Eternal Ground of Existence. But mystical experience isn't limited to the Eternal. Some mystics describe the Root as It relates to the external universe. And others describe the Center as It relates to our deepest selves. Therefore, a scientific religion might have something to say about the external universe and our deepest selves, too. Questions such as Who are we? Why are we here? What is our place in this world? and What happens when we die? could be addressed and perhaps answered. Moreover, mystics have recommended certain values, attitudes, and actions, and have censured others. Either explicitly or implicitly, they've addressed the questions What is the best way to live one's life? What is life's greatest good? and How can life's greatest good be obtained? Therefore, these questions, as well as the morals and ethics that derive from them, might also fall within the scope of a scientific religion. As we've seen, Gods who are Persons would not be in the domain of a scientific religion. Therefore, no claims would be made about Gods such as Jesus and Jehovah, Krishna and Allah. Statements such as Jesus is the only begotten Son of God, Jews are God's chosen people, Muhammad is the Seal of the Prophets, etc., would remain in the domain of religion. God, may be taken as a symbol of consciousness as well. Second, we have two kinds of selves: a single, eternal, real, absolute Self and a set of changing, temporal, phenomenal, relative selves, often called the ego. Like the water underlying the ocean's foam, our Self is the Substance that stands under our self, or selves, the ego. As Ramakrishna declares:
The water and its bubble are one. The bubble has its birth in the water, floats on it, and ultimately is resolved into it. So also the individual ego and the supreme Spirit are one and the same. The difference is in degree; the one is dependent, the other independent. ([T04],11).

Like a relative self, a bubble is born, changes, and dies. Like our eternal, absolute personal self, the water is the basis, the substance, that remains. So while the bubbles that comprise our ego may temporarily disappear in deep sleep, the underlying awareness, like water, remains.

Following many other writers, we'll use capitalization to differentiate awareness, our true Self, from the ego or personality, which is commonly considered a person's self. A secular person may see capitalization merely as a device for distinguishing our true essence from the ego. Some religious people, however, may also see it as distinguishing deity, the part of us that's God, from our lesser selves. Third, truly knowing our own deepest Self is equivalent to knowing God, to enlightenment. Thus the Tao Te Ching's teaches
Knowing others is wisdom; Knowing the self is enlightenment. ([L01],ch.33).

Similarly,

[i]t is an axiom of the Sufis that what is not in a man he cannot know. The gnostic . . . could not know God and all the mysteries of the universe, unless he found them in himself. . . . In knowing himself as he really is, he knows God . . . ([N11],84-5).

Lastly, since our absolute Self is the world's Substance, the enlighten person sees
[t]his entire world, verily, is the self; other than the self, there is nothing. He sees all as the self, even as (one sees) pots, etc., as (but) clay. ([S09],69).

In fact, the entire mystical journey may be described as a process of Self-realization, a process where the ego awakens to, and eventually comes to know - comes to directly experience - its own basis, its higher, absolute Self. No Absolute Personal Identity Earlier, we decided that an absolute personal identity must be something that's unique, unchanging and absolute, something that I am rather than something I possess. The Eternal certainly is unique, unchanging and absolute. Moreover, It's something I am (or, better, I am something that It is) rather than something I possess. In fact, It's my deepest, realest self. But we also decided that an absolute personal identity should be unique to me because if two people have it then "I" would mean both of us. Is the Eternal in any sense unique to me? Can it differentiate me from everyone else? No. The spark of the Eternal that creates me in no way differs from the spark that creates you. The Eternal is one, undifferentiated, the same. So even if each and every one of us has a consciousness, a soul, an Ultimate Ground of Existence that's identical, It cannot be our absolute personal identity. So where is my unique, unchanging, absolute and distinct identity? It's nowhere to be found! Writes Nicholson:
There is no real existence apart from God. Man is an emanation or a reflexion or a mode of Absolute Being. What he thinks of as individuality is in truth not-being;

([N11],154).

Thus, "I" as an enduring and distinct personal identity doesn't really exist! Thus, as Ramakrishna observed:
[J]ust as when one goes on removing the coats of an onion nothing is left over; so, in order to ascertain the self, when one goes on eliminating the body, the mind, the intellect, etc. and makes sure that none of these is the self, one finds that there is nothing separate called "I" but everything is He (God) and nothing but He . . . ([S01],394).

A different line of reasoning seems to have led Buddha to a similar insight. As we've seen, Buddha places consciousness in the same category as body, heart, and mind; that is, as caused and having a dependent type of existence.
Have I not said, with many examples, that consciousness is not independent but comes about through the Chain of Causation and cannot arise without a cause? ([W07],64).

and

[I]s consciousness permanent or impermanent? Impermanent . . . Now what is impermanent . . . is it proper to regard that thus: "This is mine. This am I. this is my self"? Surely not . . . ([B09],271).

He taught that a human being consists of five elements: body, feelings, perceptions, tendencies, and consciousness. Because ([B16],122) none of these, individually or in combination, is a self, there is no such thing as self. Thus
. . . early Buddhists did not believe in a permanent self or ego . . . ([B16],122).

Rather, Buddhists believe the five elements

. . . come together at birth, are dispersed at death, and therefore can be regarded only as convenient names for those basic elements of a human being, all of which are impermanent, involve suffering, and have no ego. ([B16],122).

So Buddha denies the existence of any absolute identity, distinct or otherwise, to a human being. If, like Buddha, we consider consciousness changeable and conditioned then we have no absolute identity. On the other hand, if we consider consciousness identical to the Eternal then we have no distinct absolute personal identity. In either case, these word of Buddha apply:
Just as the word 'chariot' is but a mode of expression for axle, wheels, the chariot-body and other constituents in their proper combination, so a living being is the appearance of the groups with the four elements as they are joined in a unit. There is no self

in the carriage and there is no self in man . . . The thought of self is an error and all existences are as hollow as the plantain tree and as empty as twirling water bubbles. ([C04],115),

and

The foolish man conceives the idea of 'self', the wise man sees there is no ground on which to build the idea of 'self' . . . ([C04],242),

although I would substitute "unenlightened" for "foolish." The enlightened person, on the other hand, has realized their true Self. As Nicholson writes:
Gnosis, then, is unification, realisation of the fact that the appearance of 'otherness' beside Oneness is a false and deluding dream. . . . Gnosis proclaims that 'I' is a figure of speech . . . ([N11],85).

Thus, someone who has looked deeply into the basis of their own personal existence realizes they possess no unique, unchanging, absolute and distinct self. In Buddhism, the insight that absolute personal selfhood has, in fact, no real basis (i.e., doesn't actually exist) is labeled "nonself." Buddha identified three traits that inhere in all entities: impermanence, suffering, and nonself. We've already seen entities lack permanence and always include yin traits that may considered as imperfections conducive to suffering. Now we've seen how the third trait, nonself, applies to us. Later, we'll see how it applies in general. Two Views of Absolute Personal Identity We have many relative personal identities, many relative selves, selves that are created, change, and eventually vanish. Relative personal identities exist (just as waves exists), but they do not reach all the way down to the ultimate level. On the ultimate level, God exists. And on that ultimate level, there's only one Entity. So, we can follow Buddha and say we have no absolute personal identity, since our identity is a created, transitory, created thing. Or we can follow Hindu Vedanta and say we have a common absolute personal identity, and it's identical with God. But to say we have a distinct absolute personal identity - different from God and from other people's personal identity - and to say this personal identity is eternal, seems to say that more than one entity exists at the ultimate level. Moreover, it says that our union with God can only be partial, that we shall forever be in some measure separate from God. There are religions that say this - Christianity is one, the Yoga philosophy that underlies the Hindu Yoga Sutras (refer, for example [Y01]) by Patanjali is another - but I do not believe it, and it's not part of the monist world view being presented. I realize that saying either we're really God or we really don't exist is a non-intuitive idea that goes against common sense but those are the only two alternatives 9

monism allows. Moreover, that's exactly what many mystics see. So, we may take two attitudes toward our absolute personal identity: the first, that it exists and is identical with the Real; the second, that we have no absolute personal identity. Mystics have employed both viewpoints. The second attitude - that we have no absolute personal identity is the safer attitude, but it's more discontinuous with our normal way of thinking. The first attitude - that our true Self is the Absolute - has historically been the more dangerous choice. Such identification was often interpreted by followers of a God who is a Person as the blasphemous claim "I am God." Their response was not always charitable. Therefore, the viewpoint that we have no true Self, that only God exists, is safer. Followers of a God who is a Person might interpret this claim as displaying intense - even excessive - humility. But I know of no case where a mystic suffered torture or death for excessive meekness. Yet the second attitude demands we give up the idea of the thing nearest and dearest to us, the idea of our own self enduring over time. For if the relative selves are the only selves we possess, then we have no enduring unchanging self. The person we were at five years of age is dead and gone. True, the person we are now has descended from that person in a more intimate sense than we've descended from our ancestors, but we've descended nonetheless. We are not that person, but someone different. Just as the candle flame or whirlpool is descended from, but something different than, the candle flame or whirlpool of a moment ago. This viewpoint, by the way, in a sense answers the afterlife problem - we need not be concerned with the afterlife since we do not even endure over one lifetime. Only a descendent of the person we are now endures. But it's not a complete answer since the existence of an afterlife is still an open question. Possibly, a descendent endures, in some sense or another, beyond death. Possibly, it does not. (A later chapter returns to these questions.) But in either case, strictly speaking we are dead and gone as soon as we lose or acquire one or another relative self. Just as adding or subtracting a single letter changes a word into another word or just a series of nonsense letters, adding or subtracting a relative self changes us into a different person. Although the first viewpoint is more dangerous, it accords more with our normal way of thinking. We are accustomed to referring to our self, to assuming we have a self. This viewpoint says, indeed, we have a self and moreover that self is quite close to, and even identical with, God's Self. What prevents this viewpoint from leading to megalomania is the essential qualifications that, first, our Self is no different than the Self of anyone else and, second, we don't, in any real sense, "possess" this Self since the Self can be the possessor but never the possession. 10

The Ego as Possession If all of the above seems shocking or silly, recall our empirical, everyday identity is not being denied. Certainly, our relative selves exist. Certainly, an "I" exists in the conversational and practical sense. What is being denied, however, is an identity that is eternally separate and distinct from God. On the ultimate level, there is nothing unchanging that distinguishes me from you or anybody or anything else. On the ultimate level, nothing but the Eternal exists. Of course, in everyday life it's quite useful, even necessary, to use the concept of personal self. The word "I" is useful, even if what it refers to doesn't exist in the deepest sense. Sometimes an inferred entity, a theoretical construct, is known not to exist but is nonetheless used. As an example, imagine a checker board where only one square is empty. We could keep track of which piece is moved where, but if we are only interested in which square is empty, we could track the location of the "hole" instead. As pieces are shifted, the hole moves from one square to another. Something similar is done in semiconductor electronics, where a missing electron is tracked. What actually happens is an electron hops from a full atom to the atom with the "hole" (missing electron), thereby transferring the hole in the reverse direction, to the full atom. But instead of concentrating on what's actually happening, it's easier and more useful to follow the motion of the hole. Thus, something lacking positive existence is considered as having positive existence, an interesting parallel to Augustine's view of evil. Thus, a distinct absolute personal identity is an inferred entity, a theoretical construct, that, in fact, doesn't actually exist. "I" as it's used in the everyday sense is a theoretical construct that doesn't really exist. This was implied by and easily follows from two quotes we saw in the fourth chapter:
God . . . is not one Being among others, but . . . dwells on a plane where there is nothing whatever besides Himself. ([D08],4),

and

For all other things, ourselves included, compared to that pure and perfect Substance, are not even shadows. ([A06],101).

So as we approach the level of the Uncaused Cause, the level where nothing exists but the Ultimate Ground of Existence, then of necessity we approach a level where our separate existence and identity vanish. Perhaps this is why Ramana Maharshi says:
One cannot see God and yet retain individuality. ([P12],213).

Another point: whether our non-distinct absolute identity is our

11

awareness or soul, or whether it fails to exist at all, it follows our body, feelings, and thoughts are our possessions rather then our selves. Therefore, referring to the body, feelings, and thoughts as possessions, as something other than ourselves, would be appropriate. Some mystics have done so. For example, the Christian mystic Henry Suso (1295-1365) typically writes of himself - or rather his body, emotions, and thoughts - in the third person ([U01],218). He calls them the "Servitor." Thus, Suso is speaking of himself when he writes:
One night after matins, the Servitor being seated in his chair and plunged in deep thought, he was rapt from his senses. ([U01],404).

Swami Rama Tirtha is another mystic who habitually refers to himself in the third person - as "Rama" or "he" rather than "I". Of the many examples that can be given, one is particularly interesting. (Note: "he" in the first sentence refers to Rama, not the scientists.)
The scientists may or may not agree today with Rama, but he is fully convinced that even the smallest particle of the dust of this universe is a storehouse of energy which may be possible to be released, under suitable conditions, more or less like fire from fuelwood or like heat from coal. In other words, energy is condensed into matter which can be reconverted into energy which is stored in it. ([P14],109).

These words were spoken in 1905, about the time Einstein was coming to the same conclusion. A Living, Conscious Absolute If our consciousness isn't the Everlasting then we have no enduring identity, no absolute personal identity. But what if consciousness is the Absolute? Then the Absolute and consciousness are one and the same. If our consciousness is the Absolute, then the Absolute is in some sense conscious. In a sense, It's alive. Therefore, It might have some of the attributes we usually associate with persons. In other words, It might have a personal side as well as an impersonal side. Therefore, thinking of and relating to the Eternal in a personal way, as if It is in some sense an actual, distinct Person might make sense. Someone who regards the Root as if It's a distinct Person is obviously similar to someone who regards their God as an actual Person. That is, believing the impersonal Ultimate Ground of Existence has a conscious, personal aspect is very close to believing in a God who is a Person. There is a difference, but is it important? The next chapter, which investigates the relationship of the Eternal to the "supernatural," explores this question.

12

9
- The God Who is a Person Chapter Summary: This chapter explores the idea of relating to God as if He/She is a Person and relating to the Uncreated as if It is a Person. The power of such ideas of God is discussed, as well as their advantages and disadvantages. We've discussed the relationship of the Real to our external and internal worlds. What of Its relationship to the supernatural? Does a supernatural realm even exist? In particular, do Gods who are Persons exist? Let's begin our discussion of these questions by examining some more ideas about the perennial philosophy. As distilled by Aldous Huxley, the perennial philosophy's "highest common factor" is ([S18],13) a nucleus of four fundamental principles and an fifth optional principle. The first principle says the world of people and things is a manifestation of a single Eternal Ground without Which it could not exist; the second, that we can directly experience this Ground and even consciously unite with it; the third, that we possess two selves, an ego and a Self. We've already discussed these ideas. The fourth principle, which we'll see more about later, is that life's ultimate end and aim is unitive knowledge of the Eternal. Huxley's fifth principle is of concern to us in this chapter. We'll begin discussing it by briefly re-examining the first principle. Monism and Gods who are Persons The first principle says that everything is a manifestation of one Eternal Substance, a single Reality. It's been called "pantheism" and "monism." Religious monism is the idea that God is the One and only, the sole Reality, the One without a second. We've seen a monist description of the universe and ourselves. In contrast to monism, monotheism is the more familiar idea that some God who is a Person, a Person supreme among all persons, has created the universe but remains distinct from it. In monotheism, God is one entity among many. God, people, animals, and inanimate objects all exist and are distinct. So, in monotheism there is only one God. In monism there is only One. Period. Religious monism says that everything - us, a lamp, a worm - has the same Ultimate Ground of Existence, God. It may seem absurd when it's first encountered, perhaps because the idea of God as some Person is so ingrained. In his youth, Swami Vivekananda met the monist viewpoint in the teachings of Ramakrishna. He was less than impressed.
What's the difference . . . between this and atheism? How can a created soul think of itself as the Creator? What could be a greater sin? What's this nonsense about I am God, you are God, everything that is born

13

and dies is God? The authors of these books must have been mad - how else could they have written such stuff? ([I04],205).

Vivekananda's statements were based on a misunderstanding of monism. Saying the God which is not a Person is the Ultimate Substance of both any person and any God who is a Person doesn't say the two are equal or identical. Just as saying both ice and steam are water doesn't say they're equal or identical. Ice and steam are different, but share a common ground. People and Gods who are Persons are different but share a common Ground. So, monism doesn't equate the creature with any God who is a Person. It doesn't equate any human soul with the Creator. And it doesn't confuse a God who is a Person, the Creator of the universe who is distinct from it, with the God which is not a Person, the creator and upholder of the universe at this very moment in the sense of being its Eternal Substance. Rather monism maintains a distinction between these pairs of very different ideas. For example, Shankara, one of religious monism's foremost spokesman, carefully maintained the distinction between the creature and "Iswara," his term for the God who is a Person. In an introduction to his Crest-Jewel of Discrimination, the translators write:
We can become Brahman, since Brahman is present in us always. But we can never become Iswara, because Iswara is above and distinct from our human personality. . . . [W]e can never become rulers of the universe - for that is Iswara's function. ([S11],23-4).

They even label ([S11],24) the desire to become Iswara as madness and Lucifer's sin. However, they seem to slightly misstate our relation to Brahman, perhaps for the sake of the parallelism "we can become Brahman . . . But we can never become Iswara." In fact, we already are Brahman, the Source, the Ultimate Ground of Existence. Our conscious realization of this fact is all that's lacking. Our ego has not yet realized its Basis. So monism doesn't, as the young Vivekananda feared, teach that a person can become some God who is a Person, just as it doesn't teach that a person can become a rock. However, it does say that people, Gods who are Persons, and rocks all lack the ultimate reality possessed by the Real. It denies the ultimate reality of people, the universe, and Gods who are separate, distinct Persons, calling them "Maya," illusions, projections of Uncreated Light. As Ramana Maharshi taught:
The Self alone exists and is real. The world, the individual and God are . . . imaginary creations in the Self. They appear and disappear simultaneously. Actually, the Self alone is the world, the "I" and God. All that exists is only a manifestation of the Supreme. ([T03],16).

14

The idea that the God who is a Person isn't fully real also occurred to certain early, heretical Christians who
. . . insisted on discriminating between the popular image of God - as master, king, lord, creator, and judge - and what that image represented - God understood as the ultimate source of all being . . . . "the depth" . . . an invisible, incomprehensible primal principle. ([P01],38). . . . God is but the highest Appearance or Manifestation of the Absolute. ([D08],40).

Similarly, "Dionysius" taught, in the words of Rolt, that So from the monist point of view, the God who is a Person and mundane entities have this in common - their existence is grounded, as is all entities, in the Ultimate Ground of Existence. Later in his life, Vivekananda came to understand monism. He shocked Christians by claiming there was no essential difference between Jesus and the lowliest of God's creatures, since they are both manifestations of the same Godhead, the same Eternal Substance. The Religious Monist Since Gods who are Persons aren't absolutely and ultimately real, why not just dispense with them entirely? A certain kind of religious seeker often does. This kind of person is usually capable of deeply loving entities which are just abstractions to other people, such as Truth, Love, or the Ultimate Ground of Existence. For someone with this temperament such things are quite real. For example, the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche
. . . lived with his intellectual problems as with realities, he experienced a similar emotional commitment to them as other men experience to their wife and children. ([N12],11).

Imagine someone with Nietzsche's temperament who is also religious. Isn't it likely they'd naturally relate to God intellectually and philosophically? For example, might they not tend to think of God as the Root and Source? And might they not prefer this relationship over an emotional one where, for example, they are the child and God is the Divine Parent? Certain mystics of Nietzsche's temperament have found the intellectual and philosophical approach congenial. They've been as devoted to the God which is not a Person as Nietzsche was to his intellectual pursuits, and as other people are to their spouses and children. For such mystics, Huxley's first four principles - his "simple working hypothesis" - are sufficient. Their religion doesn't require a God who is a Person.
A man who can practice what the Indians call Jnana yoga (the metaphysical discipline of discrimination between the Real and the apparent) asks for nothing

15

more. This simple working hypothesis is enough for his purposes. ([S18],17).

Someone who discriminates between the Real and the unreal practices what's called "Jnana yoga" in India. So, they're a "Jnana yogi." Typically, the jnana yogi is a religious person with an introverted, cerebrotonia personality. They're strong in intellect, and often wary of emotion. I could use the term "jnana yogi" to refer to such an individual. Although it's a Hindu term, such individuals appear in any culture. Instead, I'll use the term "religious monist" or simply "monist." Monists naturally tend to philosophical and metaphysical approaches to Reality. They often disdain highly emotional presentations of religion based on the life of some religious Personality or Incarnation. Sometimes they even condemn such presentations as mere histrionics. For instance, Totapuri, one of Ramakrishna's teachers, criticized him for worshiping Krishna with dancing, chanting, and clapping hands. Totapuri sarcastically asked ([L07],166-7) if Ramakrishna was clapping bread dough between his hands. Totapuri was a strict monist. He regarded Gods who are Persons as mythological, that is, as having less real existence than you or I. Are Gods who are Persons mythological? Or are They real? We've seen that our own existence and identity vanish as we approach the level of the One and the All. The existence of God considered as an individual Person, as one entity among many, necessarily suffers the same fate.
. . . Brahman only appears as Iswara when viewed by the relative ignorance of Maya. Iswara has the same degree of reality as Maya has. ([S11],23).

All manifestations exist in the Ultimate Ground of Existence and lose their separate existence and identity as we approach the Absolute. Yet we may say the same thing in a more positive way: Gods who are Persons may be as real as you, or I, or the world we see around us. Gods who are Persons may have a more than mythological existence, they may have an existence as real as anything else. Of course, they might just as well fail to exist at all. Without proof, a scientific religion could neither deny or affirm the existence of separate Gods who are Persons. The Optional Principle Huxley believed the religious monist was the exception rather than the rule. He wrote Jnana yoga was
. . . exceedingly difficult and can hardly be practiced, at any rate in the preliminary stages of the spiritual life, except by persons endowed with a particular kind of mental constitution. . . . ([S18],17).

Many religious believers don't possess the monist temperament. 16

They aren't capable of loving Truth in the "abstract." Many people, however, are capable of loving a God who is a Person. They find it easier loving someone like Jesus, who died for us, or the cute baby Krishna. In other words, many believers are capable of practicing a religion which includes some form of Huxley's fifth principle. This principle affirms
. . . the existence of one or more human Incarnations of the Divine Ground, by whose mediation and grace the worshiper is helped to achieve his goal - that unitive knowledge of the Godhead, which is man's eternal life and beatitude. ([S18],17).

From the fifth principle follows the bulk of popular religious belief and practice. In Christianity and Hinduism, the story of an Incarnation's life is scripture; reverence and devotion for an Incarnation is piety; and pleas to an Incarnation are prayer. And if we take "Incarnation" in a wide sense, if we view any God who is a Person as an Incarnation of the God which is not a Person, then we find a similar situation in Judaism and Islam. That is, Jewish and Islamic scripture consists of records of the actions of an "Incarnation" (Jehovah and Allah), as well as the actions of prophets. Again, reverence and devotion for an Incarnation are piety, and pleas to an Incarnation are prayer. Even Buddhism has, in a sense, an Incarnation. Buddhism is perhaps the most impersonal and "unreligious" of religions, so much so that some adherents claim it's not religion at all, but a philosophy. Geoffrey Parrinder describes such believers when he writes:
It is common nowadays for Buddhist apologists, in East and West, to claim that the Buddha was only a man, or a man like us . . . ([W07],6).

Yet the needs of some Buddhists have forced Buddhism to undergo some measure of "personalization," so much so that Parrinder (perhaps overstating the situation) continues:
. . . but no Buddhist thought this in the previous two thousand years, since the Buddha was for him the object of faith and the means of salvation . . . Functionally he is the Supreme Being . . . ([W07],5-6).

In any case, belief in some God who is a Person underlies religion as practiced by - and God as worshiped by - the great majority of believers. So, religion as it's usually practiced is based on the perennial philosophy's fifth principle, a principle Huxley called optional since some temperaments don't need it. But for most individuals the fifth principle isn't optional at all. It's required. If they're to have any religion at all, it will be a religion based on the fifth principle. For many, monotheism in its most real and actual form is essential. Emotional attachment to some God who is a Person may be their primary, or only, motivation for living a religious life, and for 17

pursuing a spiritual quest. The Power of the Personal Aspect Belief in Gods who are Persons is quite powerful. Its influence in civilizations, past and present, is obvious: much of the world's population lives within walking distance of a building dedicated to some God who is a Person. Such Gods play a vital role in the lives of many, if not most, religious people. They function as focus of worship, parent, friend, protector, judge, or teacher. Their most important function, however, may be as a bridge to the Unchangeable, the Real. As Underhill observes:
The peculiar virtue of . . . Christian philosophy, that which marks its superiority to the more coldly selfconsistent systems of Greece, is the fact that it restates the truths of metaphysics in terms of personality: thus offering a third term, a "living mediator" between the Unknowable God, the unconditioned Absolute, and the conditioned self. ([U01],104).

What's the value of re-stating "the truths of metaphysics in terms of personality"? To some religious monists there's none. They have no need of a mediator, and prefer to approach the Unconditioned directly. But to monists who seek to use emotions as well as intellect in the journey to vision of the Real, the personification of metaphysical truths can be quite valuable. Transforming one's entire person is a difficult, long-term process. Changing one's daily life to reflect religious and philosophical truths can be an arduous task. Emotions are a powerful aid to this transformation, even to those of the cerebral, jnana temperament. One way the religious monist can engage their emotions is to regard the Uncreated Light as if It were a Person. Erwin Goodenough describes some ancient people who seemed to have regarded their Gods in this way. In By Light, Light, a book about Hellenistic Judaism, whose most famous exponent was Philo, he writes:
. . . it is not the mythology itself which matters but the mythology as a symbol of metaphysical truth. The mystery is not a path to Isis or Attis; it is a path to Reality, Existence, Knowledge, Life, of which Isis or Attis is the symbol. The value of Isis, that is, is to make the intellectual concept emotionally realizable, something which can be taken out of the cold words of formulation and made radiantly alive within the longing hearts of mankind . . . ([G01],1).

So, some ancients didn't regard Isis or Attis as actual Gods who are Persons, as real, distinct personalities, as separate Entities. Rather Isis and Attis functioned as personifications of the Ultimate Ground

18

of Existence. Those ancients used the "personal aspect" of the Eternal to help make higher truths "emotionally realizable" and "radiantly alive." Goodenough observes certain Hellenistic Christians employed the same device. These Christians regarded Christ as a personification of the Eternal Light.
The same process is illustrated in Christianity. The early Christians seem to have been content with the mythological assertion that Jesus was the Son of God and would return from the clouds to assert his power . . . Such a religion in itself meant nothing to the Hellenistic religious thinkers. Christ almost at once became to them the Logos, the Sophia . . . ([G01],2).

Logos and Sophia, of course, were Greek philosophical concepts. Goodenough continues that after this transformation
. . . Christianity became another and more adequate means of making emotionally real and accessible the old Hellenistic abstractions . . . ([G01],2).

Now, he observes,

. . . it was ready to conquer the Graeco-Roman world. ([G01],2).

Actual and Operational Monotheism We've seen that the separate existence of you, I, the universe, and Gods who are Persons vanishes when we approach the Absolute. For someone temperamentally suited to the worship of a God who is a Person, this leaves two unsatisfactory choices. First, they can choose to worship the ultimately real God which is not a Person. Second, they can choose to worship some ultimately unreal God who is a Person. A very poor choice indeed. There is, however, an alternative. Someone might choose to relate to, and even to worship, the Self-Existent as if It were alive and conscious, as if It were a Person. We've seen that consciousness may be considered identical with the Absolute. If we turn this around, we can say the Self-Existent is Consciousness, is conscious and living. Thus the Root and Source may be regarded as a Person, as Friend or constant Companion or Spouse, for example, or as Mother and Father. After all, the Source gives "birth" to us at this very moment. Our existence depends on the Self-Existent more fully and intimately than it depends on our parents. For we'll continue existing after our parents are gone. But we couldn't continue to exist if the Ultimate Ground of Existence ceased to exist. So, the Real is our Father and Mother in a very actual and literal sense. For It creates us and keeps us at this very moment, and is with us always. So we can think of the God who is not a Person as a Person, as Mother, Father, Companion, Friend or Spouse, if we desire. If we want, It can be a living, conscious Father and Mother, an eternal 19

Companion and Friend, even a Spouse. So, a monist who has no belief in God as an actual, separate Person, as one entity among others, might nonetheless choose to think of, and even worship, the Absolute and Source as if It was a Person. After all, a person still has some emotions no matter how mindcentered they are. True, some monists choose to ignore their emotional faculties and approach God solely through their intellect. They choose to regard and worship the Real as an entirely nonpersonal Entity. But others, even if they're predominately mindcentered, choose to also use their emotions in the journey to God. They choose to sometimes regard the Ultimate Ground of Existence as Mother or Father, Friend or Spouse. Such a choice provides them with an Entity able to attract both heart and mind. Such a God (who is like a Person) truly is eternal, omnipresent, the Mother and Father of all. Thus we may distinguish the actual monotheism of the monotheist from the "operational monotheism" of some religious monist. Operational monotheism is a type of monism. It acknowledges the separate God who is a Person as ultimately, ontologically false. But it nonetheless worships the Uncreated as if It is a separate entity, a Person among persons.
. . . [T]o conceive one's self as separate from God is an error: yet only when one sees oneself as separate from God, can one reach out to God. (Palmer, Oriental Mysticism, in [U01],108).

Operational monotheism is actually a form of monism. It's a pseudo-monotheism. The Eternal is regarded as a Person, even though the believer realizes It is not actually a Person. The Dual Aspects A monist who practices operational monotheism regards the Eternal as if It were a Person. Such a monist emphasizes the "personal aspect" of the Ultimate Ground of Existence. Thus we may distinguish two sides or aspects of the One. When we regard It as an non-personal Entity, we emphasize It's impersonal aspect. When we regard It as a Person, we emphasize It's personal aspect. It may seem paradoxical to regard an "It" as a Person, to regard the God which is not a Person as a Person. But the God which is not a Person is also the God which is not a Thing. Thinking of the Uncreated as a Person is as accurate, or inaccurate, as thinking of the Real as a Thing. The Self-Existent is like a person and like a thing. Yet It is neither. In engineering there are stable and unstable balances. A ball in the bottom of a bowl is in a state of stable balance: shake the bowl and the ball moves but eventually returns to balance. A ball at the top of an inverted bowl, or on the peak of a mountain, is in a state of

20

unstable balance. Disturb the ball and it doesn't eventually return to the top. Instead, it rolls to one side or another and stays there. Only with effort is the ball returned to the mountain peak. The idea that the Eternal Reality has a living, conscious, Personal aspect and yet is not an actual person, not one entity among many, seems to put the mind into an unstable balance. The mind tends to fall to one side or other of this truth. On one side, the tendency is to think of the Eternal as a non-personal Energy which one may regard as a Person (especially if one is a rather fuzzy thinker). On the other side, the tendency is to think of the Eternal as really a Person among other persons, a person who theoretically has non-personal qualities - of no great consequence. A mind trying to hold on to the dual nature of this situation often falls to one side or the other. It seems the dual aspects of the Ultimate Ground of Existence, the impersonal aspect and the living, consciousness aspect, both represent It imperfectly. To use a familiar analogy from physics, the twin ideas of "particle" and "wave" both represent light imperfectly. Light is a physical entity which has both a particle nature and a wave nature. Yet light is truly neither particle nor wave. In the same way, the Eternal truly has both a personal aspect and an impersonal aspect. Yet the Real is truly neither person nor thing. Starting now, I'll use the phrase "God who is not a Person" to emphasize the Self-Existent's dual aspects, personal and impersonal. So the phrase "God which is not a Person" refers exclusively to the impersonal aspect of the Real, as it has throughout this book. And "God who is not a Person" refers to both the personal and impersonal aspects of the Ultimate Substance. And as always, "God who is a Person" refers to some God such as Jesus, Krishna, Jehovah, or Allah. The phrase "God who is not a Person" attempts to remind us of the Eternal's dual aspects. It's easy to forget one aspect or the other. When this happens, confusion and misunderstanding often result. Two instances follow where an author apparently failed to fully grasp the idea of the Self-Existent's dual aspects. One author was writing about Ramakrishna; the other, Guru Nanak. Confusion of Actual and Operational Monotheism Sri Ramakrishna worshiped the Eternal as Mother, specifically the Hindu goddess Mother Kali. He deeply yearned for direct experience. He prayed and wept for it and eventually in his frustration almost went mad. He felt ([S01],143) as if his heart and mind were being wrung like a wet towel. Sometimes bystanders assumed he grieved the loss of his human mother, and offered their sympathy. In fact, he grieved that he had not yet had the vision of God. Eventually, driven by longing and despair Ramakrishna resolved to end his life. As he reached for a sword,
. . . suddenly I had the wonderful vision of the Mother .

21

. . I did not know what happened then in the external world . . . But, in my heart of hearts, there was flowing a current of intense bliss, never experienced before, and I had the immediate knowledge of the light, that was Mother. . . . It was as if houses, doors, temples and all other things vanished altogether; as if there was nothing anywhere! And what I saw, was a boundless infinite conscious sea of light! However far and in whatever direction I looked, I found a continuous succession of effulgent waves coming forward, raging and storming . . . ([S01],143).

Ramakrishna declared he had "immediate knowledge of the light, that was Mother." He described his vision as a vision of shining conscious Light. He had prayed for the Mother to reveal herself, and the Mother, Brahman, the Uncreated Light, had revealed Herself - as a shining ocean of Light and Consciousness. The situation seems clear. Christopher Isherwood's Ramakrishna and His Disciples recounts the story of Ramakrishna's life. In it, Isherwood writes:
Ramakrishna knew that Mother Kali was not other than Brahman. ([I04],118).

Presumably then Isherwood knew "Mother Kali" was a personalized label for the God who is not a Person. Yet he wonders if Ramakrishna also saw a woman in his vision, specifically Kali. He writes:
It is not quite clear from Ramakrishna's narrative whether or not he actually saw the form of Mother Kali in the midst of this vision of shining consciousness. ([I04],65).

Did Ramakrishna see a woman in his vision? Both Isherwood ([I04],65) and no less than a direct disciple of Ramakrishna decide he did. Why? Because afterwards
. . . as soon as he had the slightest external consciousness . . . . he, we are told, uttered repeatedly the word 'Mother' in a plaintive voice. ([S01],143).

Lack of appreciation of the Eternal Light's dual aspects forces "Mother" to be taken as Mother Kali, a God who is a Person. Lack of appreciation leads to confusion and uncertainty since Ramakrishna talks of the Mother yet describes an experience of Light. Who was the God Ramakrishna longed for? Was it some God who is a Person, specifically a Hindu goddess, Mother Kali? Or was it the Self-Existent, in his own words
. . . the universal Mother, consisting of the effulgence of pure consciousness . . . ([S01],255)? . . . is Light, but not the light that we perceive, not material light. ([G03],307).

I believe it was the Real. Once, he had declared Brahman He had also said 22

[t]he attainment of the Absolute is called the Knowledge of Brahman . . . ([G03],307),

I believe Ramakrishna wanted - and finally received - first-hand knowledge of Brahman, a direct experience of the Uncreated Light. Ramakrishna was, I believe, a monist practicing operational monotheism. So if the dual nature is understood there is no cause for confusion. The Mother is the Uncreated Light. Thus there is no reason to suppose Ramakrishna also saw some female image. The Mother he referred to was the Mother of the Universe, the Uncreated and Eternal Light. Like Ramakrishna, Guru Nanak, the founder of the Sikh religion, also seems to have known the dual aspects, the personal and impersonal aspects of God. In Guru Nanak and the Sikh Religion, W. McLeod writes ([M09],164) that God for Nanak was "the one" and that Nanak often affirmed "There is no other." McLeod wonders if such statements should be understood in a monotheistic sense Does it refer to the uniqueness of God, to His absolute difference in essence from all other beings . . . ([M09],164).

- or in a monist sense -

. . . or does it denote the unity which denies ultimate reality to all phenomenal existence? ([M09],164).

McLeod chooses monotheism.

If we are compelled to choose between these polar conceptions our choice must settle upon the former alternative. Guru Nanak's thought cannot be made to conform to the categories of advaita doctrine without equating his concept of God with the ultimately unreal Isvara of Sankara's philosophy . . . ([M09],164-5).

Nonetheless McLeod finds elements of monism in Nanak's teaching.

Nanak himself explicitly declares notions of 'duality' . . . the essence of man's problem, and the overcoming of such notions to be a vital aspect of man's quest for salvation. Moreover, we must also acknowledge the stress which he lays upon divine immanence and upon the fundamental importance of this immanent revelation in the quest for salvation. ([M09],165).

Again, there's confusion. Nanak wasn't a monist but often spoke like one anyway. Is it Nanak's statements which are confused and inconsistent? Or is it their interpretation? If the two aspects of the Uncreated are understood, then Nanak's beliefs are neither inconsistent nor confusing. If Nanak is seen as a monist who often used an "operational-monotheistic" mode of speaking, then there is no confusion. Nor is there a compulsion to choose between the "polar conceptions" of monism and monotheism. Guru Nanak, I believe, was an operational monist. Unrecognized Experience of the Personal Aspect? 23

The dual aspects are easily forgotten, even by the spiritually aware. The mind easily slips to one side or the other of the unstable balance. It's natural, therefore, that the personal aspect of the Eternal might over time in the minds of the average believer become some God who is a Person. In Judaism and Christianity Yahweh is the name of a God who is a Person. How did the word "Yahweh" come to be connected with God? In Exodus 3:14 we read
And God said unto Moses, I AM THAT I AM: and he said, Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, I AM hath sent me unto you. ([H08], Ex3:14).

A footnote explains

I am who am: apparently this utterance is the source of the word Yahweh, the proper personal name of the God of Israel. It is commonly explained in reference to God as the absolute and necessary Being. It may be understood of God as the Source of all created beings. ([N02],61).

Thus the phrase "I am who am" may have once referred to the Source, the Root, the Ultimate Ground of Existence. That is, "Yahweh" may have originally indicated the personal aspect of the self-existent and eternal Reality. In time, however, it became the name of a God who is a Person, a God separate from creation, one Entity among others. In the mind of the average believer, the Eternal's personal aspect is liable to change into a separate, distinct Person. Conversely, in the minds of the mystics a separate, distinct God who is a Person tends to change into a personal aspect of the Eternal. Nicholson describes this phenomena when he writes the Sufi's
Light, Knowledge, and Love . . . rest upon a pantheistic faith which deposed the One transcendent God of Islam and worshiped in His stead One Real Being who dwells and works everywhere . . . ([N11],8).

So, we may describe experience of a God who is a Person as unrecognized experience of the personal aspect of the Uncreated, as unrecognized experience of the personal side of the God which is not a Person. In other words, as unrecognized experience of the God who is not a Person. Ramakrishna spoke of such experience when he said:
For the bhakta He assumes forms. But he is formless for the Jnani. ([T04],3).

A Bhakta yogi uses a heart-centered approach to the Eternal, who usually is some God who is a Person. Someone who practices Bhakti yoga uses the emotions to draw nearer to God. Ramakrishna continues:
. . . Brahman, Existence-Knowledge-Bliss Absolute, is

24

like a shoreless ocean. In the ocean visible blocks of ice are formed here and there by intense cold. Similarly, under the cooling influence, so to speak, of the bhakti of Its worshipers, the Infinite transforms Itself into the finite and appears before the worshiper as God with form. That is to say, God reveals Himself to His bhaktas as an embodied Person. Again, as, on the rising of the sun, the ice in the ocean melts away, so, on the awakening of jnana, the embodied God melts back into the infinite and formless Brahman. . . . But mark this: form and formlessness belong to one and the same Reality. ([T04],3-4).

Notice that "blocks of ice are formed" and "the Infinite transforms Itself into the finite." We've seen the problem with God actually being a Person is that personhood is too limited and finite. So perhaps "transforms" is too strong a word. Perhaps the Infinite appears as a finite Person, but remains infinite nonetheless. Of course, there are different kinds of limited, separate existences. A person is a distinct, separate entity, just as a block of ice is a distinct, separate entity. Yet a person is higher in the "Great Chain of Being" than a rock. Similarly, a God who is a Person is higher than a person. Yet all three are still limited, distinct, separate manifestations of the Uncreated Light. All three are "blocks of ice" in the shoreless ocean of Uncreated Light. So angels, demons, Gods who are Persons, and other "supernatural" entities - if they exist - are no more supernatural than a rock. Since the Ultimate Ground of Existence underlies their existence as It underlies the existence of the rock, one is no more above nature - i.e, super-natural - than the other. Therefore the entire realm of existence - rocks, angels, and Gods who are Persons - is united, one. It is all natural. Or, if you prefer, it's all supernatural since the God which is not a Person underlies it all. Therefore, the "supernatural" realm is actually a part of the natural universe. However, mentally dividing the natural realm into the interior domain, the exterior domain, and the "supernatural" domain may still be useful on occasion. It should be remember, however, that the "supernatural" realm is actually a part of the natural universe, even if the double quotes are omitted. The quote also has "He assumes forms." Plural. There are many different Gods who are Persons in the same ocean of Uncreated Light, even as there are many different blocks of ice in the ocean. This brings us again to a question raised in a previous chapter: why mystical experiences of the God which is not a Person generally agree, while experiences of Gods who are Persons often disagree. It's because the Self-Existent assumes different forms for different worshipers. 25

As a young boy, I heard a T.V. talk show host describe his trip to Japan. He remarked some Christian statues of Jesus and Mary there had oriental features, particularly eyes. At the time, this amused me; I thought such statues ridiculous. Only later did I realize the distinctly Western, Caucasian appearance of the statues of Jesus, Mary, and the saints I had seen. Our Gods who are Persons are Gods who are persons like us. But suppose creatures existed on another planet and looked like, say, spiders. And suppose these creatures would experience an uncontrollable revulsion at the sight of a human. Then their mystics who experienced a God who is Person would probably experience a God who was a spider, not a human. Therefore, Gods who are Persons are, to some extent, our own creations. I don't mean they are entirely our creation, that they are mythological. I mean only that our personalities and limitations condition our experience, that the Eternal seen as some God who is a Person is not seen as It is in Itself. It's seen in a form It assumes for our benefit, as a accommodation to our limitations. Therefore, there can be as many Gods who are Persons as there are people (or spiders) to see them. As Rufus Jones remarked:
. . . there is always a profound subjective aspect of interpretation of the Divine . . . in terms of the expectation of the individual, and in terms of the prevailing climate of opinion. ([J02],86-7).

I once knew a man who with perfect sincerity believed Jesus had been tall, light-skinned, blond-haired and blue-eyed. I could, no doubt, find someone else who believes Jesus was short, brown of skin, hair, perhaps eyes, too. Do these two people have the same God who is a Person? Suppose each of them became a mystic, intent on direct experience of their God. Suppose they worshiped and prayed constantly, hoping for an experience of God. Would it be surprising if one experienced a tall, blond-haired Jesus, the other, a short, brownskinned Jesus? After all, if the Eternal assumes a form for our benefit, might it not assume the form we wish to see? Advantages of Monism and Operational Monotheism Relating to the Eternal as if It's a Person is obviously very similar to relating to a God who is an actual Person. There's a difference, but is it important? The difference may not be important to the average believer. Someone who only knows of a God who is a Person can progress quite far in religious or even mystical life. As Shankara writes:
Devotion to . . . the Personal God, may lead a man very far . . . it may make him into a saint. ([S11],23),

More than that, it may make him a mystic who achieves first-hand knowledge of God, or some restricted kind of "union." Many saints

26

and mystics have known nothing of the God which is not a Person. Yet, experience of the Eternal is obviously less conditioned by the experiencer. It's purer, truer, and more universal than experience of some God who is a Person. Therefore, Shankara describes such experience as a higher goal than monotheism offers.
But this is not the ultimate knowledge. To be completely enlightened is to go beyond Iswara, to know the Impersonal Reality behind the personal divine Appearance. ([S11],23).

To know the Reality behind the appearance of Gods who are Persons implies either first-hand or unitive knowledge of the Ultimate Ground of Existence. Many mystics, Meister Eckhart, for one, valued union far above first-hand knowledge. In fact, Eckhart placed the Godhead so far above any God who is a Person he wrote:
. . . I pray God to rid me of God, for my essential being is above God . . . ([M12],219).

This phrase is no doubt shocking as translated. To understand it properly, we must understand Eckhart's ideas of "God" and "Godhead." Eckhart drew a sharp distinction between the God who is a Person and the Ultimate Ground of Existence. In fact, Rufus Jones claimed ([J03],224) this distinction was at the very core of Eckhart's thought, which he described as follows:
He whom we call "God" is the Divine Nature manifested and revealed in personal character, but behind this Revelation there must be a revealer - One who makes the revelation and is the Ground of it, just as behind our self-as-known there must be a self-asknower - a deeper ego which knows the me and its processes. Now the Ground out of which the revelation proceeds is the central mystery - is the Godhead. . . . This unrevealable Godhead is the Source and Fount of all that is . . . ([J03],225).

Eckhart, it seems, had direct experience of the Godhead. He wrote:

When I still stood in my first cause, I had no God, I was cause of myself. . . . But when by free will I went out and received my created being, then I had a God. ([M12],116).

When Eckhart's Consciousness was united with the Real, the First Cause, there was no separate, distinct God who is a Person. When It descended to the plane of duality, then the universe, Eckhart's ego, and a God who is a Person all reappeared. And so we see why he "prayed to God to rid him of God." Eckhart prayed to stay united with the Real, and not to fall back into duality where a separate God who is a Person exists. Though "for my essential being is above God" is true, I much prefer "for God's 27

essential being is above God" or "for the Godhead is above any God who is a Person." All three versions express the same thought - that the Godhead is above any God who is a Person - but the last two avoid the appearance of blasphemy. In any version, the meaning is the same: the Godhead, the God which is not a Person, is the Ground of, the Source of, the Basis of and therefore above - any God Who is a Person. Shankara and Eckhart agree: experience of the God which is not a Person is above experience of any God who is a Person. So, for mystics who seek the highest goal, union with the Eternal, the distinction between the Eternal Substance and Gods who are Persons may be important. The distinction may also be important to a scientific religion. We've seen Gods who are Persons are subjective, to some extent. That's why they're experienced differently by different people. The God which is not a Person, on the other hand, is objective. Different mystics experience the same Reality. Therefore, the more universal and objective God which is not a Person is a better foundation for a scientific religion than some particular God who is a Person. Science has found itself more able to study objective phenomena. Physics and chemistry, for example, are often predictive and exact while psychology and sociology often aren't. Therefore, an emerging scientific religion might decide to study the objective Ultimate Ground of Existence, rather than the multitude of different Gods who are Persons. The distinction could also be important if the human race ever encountered another intelligent species. Any species who can experience some God who is a Person would, presumably, be able to experience Its Ground, too. That is, any species which possesses consciousness would be able to experience God in the same way, as the Eternal Light, Consciousness Itself. The God which is not a Person might be the only God different species could have in common.

10
- Kinds of Existence Chapter Summary: This chapter examines some philosophical concepts - component entity, relative existence, action, voidness and emptiness - that apply to the universe, personal identity, and Gods who are Persons. The ideas of absolute existence and identity are also explored. The chapter concludes by summarizing Part II and introducing Part III. The previous three chapters discussed the relationship of the Real to the universe, to ourselves, and to the supernatural, particularly to 28

Gods who are Persons. We investigated the Eternal's relationship to three domains: the exterior natural universe, the interior natural universe, and the "supernatural." Although they differ, the three domains all exist in the world of appearance, above the level of the Ultimate Ground of Existence. Therefore, the entire realm of existence is united. The three domains the external world of rocks and other people, the internal world of emotions, thoughts, and consciousness, and (if it exists) the "supernatural" world of angels, demons, and God who are Persons are actually sub-domains of a single realm of existence, which is a manifestation of a single Ultimate Ground of Existence. This chapter explores concepts which apply in general to the world of appearances, and so to perhaps more than one sub-domain. It presents a somewhat theoretical and abstract discussion of the general relationship between relative entities and the Absolute. And it introduces a few new ideas which apply to entities in general. Ideas such as compound entity, component entity, relative existence, and action are discussed. These concepts are from the philosophical field of ontology, a field which discusses theories of existence or being. Ontology discusses various types of being (existence), such as real being, logical being, ideal being, necessary being, contingent being, etc. One might suppose, therefore, an "ontological argument" is a discussion in the field of ontology. This term, however, has historically been used to refer to a particular argument ([C08],399401) for the existence of God advanced by Anselm, a Christian saint. Aquinas and Kant considered Anselm's "ontological argument" faulty. The ontological arguments of this chapter are, I trust, sounder. Component Entities and Relative Existence The world contains many entities, some apparently simple and having no parts, others obviously compounded of two or more parts. Water for example seems to be a simple entity, an entity which contains no parts. Houses and cars, on the other hand, are entities compounded of smaller parts which are entities in their own right. A house has windows, a distinct sub-entity; a car has a steering wheel. We'll label any entity which has separate parts a "compound entity" since it's not simply one thing but compounded of different parts. "Component" is a synonym for "part." So a compound entity is also a component entity. I'll use the terms "component entity" and "compound entity" interchangeably. Let's investigate a particular component entity, a table. A table is a component entity because it's a combination of components or parts. Its components are its top and four legs. "Relative existence" is another new term. Not only is a table a component entity, it has relative existence. Why? Because more than a top and four legs are needed to make a table. What's needed in 29

addition is for the table's components to have the proper relation relative to each other. Each corner of the top must have a leg, and all legs must be pointing in the same direction. If some legs are fastened pointing down, and others are fastened pointing up, then we don't have a table. Instead, we have a bunch of parts which could make a table if they assumed the correct relation relative to each other. A car is another example of a component entity with relative existence. Imagine a car has been completely disassembled. The individual components, the nuts and bolts, the engine and transmission parts, the fenders and hood, are all piled in one large heap. The pistons that should be in the engine are lying on top of the windshield, the steering wheel sits on top of the spare tire. The heap is not a car. All the pieces, all the components, of the car exist, but they don't have the proper relation relative to each other for a car to exist. So tables and cars are component entities which possess relative existence. For them to exist, their components must exist and must have the proper relation relative to each other. Indeed, for any material object to exist, it's relative components, the various atoms, must exist and maintain the proper relation. Change the relation and a different object comes into existence.
Just as, for instance, the letters a, e, and r make up the words are, era, ear, area, and rear, so the elements carbon, hydrogen and oxygen appear in a pad of paper, a rubber eraser, a blob of glue, a paste of laundry starch, a lump of sugar and a dry Martini. ([L02],29).

Of course, atoms themselves are component objects. Their components are various subatomic particles. Words themselves are an excellent illustration of component entities and relative existence. The word "are" has components: the letters "a", "r", and "e". But more than the components are needed for "are" to exist. What's needed is a proper relation between its components, its letters. Confuse the relation and the word "are" vanishes; in its place an entirely different word - "era" or "ear" appears. The concept of relative existence is obviously closely related to the concept of component entity. Are the two equivalent? There is a logical principle which says if everything which is A is also B and everything which is B is also A, then A and B are equivalent. For example, if every group of 12 similar items is a dozen, and every dozen has 12 similar items, then the ideas of "dozen" and "twelve" are equivalent. Let's apply this principle. Anything with relative existence is also a component entity (everything A is B), since if parts have the right relation relative to each other then parts certainly exist. Conversely, considering a component entity as one thing implies a relation (everything B is A),

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however weak, between the components in question. For example, if a dozen donuts are thought of as a single component entity, then each individual donut is related to the others by being one of the same dozen. It could be questioned whether the relationship between the donuts is a real relationship, but we'll have no need to split hairs that fine; for our purposes, all component entities have relative existence, and anything with relative existence is a component entity. So component entity and relative existence are equivalent concepts, just like twelve and dozen. In contrast to the Self-Existent which has independent and permanent existence, component entities have an dependent and transitory type of existence. It's easy to see why. A component entity depends for its existence on the continued existence and right relation of its components. As soon as one of its parts ceases to exist or loses its proper relation to the others, the component entity itself ceases to exist. As soon as one letter ceases to exist, "are" ceases to exist. The same applies to solid material objects. I'll use a somewhat bogus disappearing trick to illustrate. Find a willing friend and claim you're going to make something disappear before their eyes. Curl your fingers into your palm and fold your thumb over them. Show this to your friend and ask what it is. After they admit it's a fist, slowly open your hand. The fist disappears. Of course, your friend is unimpressed. After all, all you've done is open your hand. A fist is a component entity (its components are the different parts of a human hand, the palm and fingers) with relative existence (for a fist to exist, the hand's components must have the proper relation to each other, fingers curled into palm, thumb over fingers.) A fist has an unstable, transitory, and dependent type of existence since, as soon as the fingers and palm lose their proper relation to each other (you open your hand), the fist ceases to exist. The fist comes into existence and then goes out of existence - although the underlying substance of the fist, its ground of existence, that is, the hand, exists all the while. Realizing the transitory nature of component entities, realizing "all things must pass," is basic to Buddhism, by the way. Buddha taught:
All compound things are transitory: they grow and they decay. ([C04],158),

and:

. . . [I]t remains a fact and the fixed and necessary constitution of being that all conformations are transitory. ([C04],80).

Indeed, his last words were:

Decay is inherent in all component things! Work out your salvation with diligence! ([B16],118).

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Actions Component entities with relative existence can be thought of in a more dynamic way: as actions. The action of holding the fingers in a certain way constitutes a fist. As another example consider Harvard University, which was founded in 1640. A little arithmetic will tell us how long Harvard has existed. Things aren't so easy, however, when we try to decide exactly what has existed since 1640. Certainly, none of Harvard's present students or professors were alive in 1640. Harvard today may or may not occupy a building dating back to 1640. Suppose (I don't know if this is true or not) not one of Harvard's presents buildings existed in 1640. Then what has existed since 1640? That is, exactly what constitutes Harvard University? Harvard University is an action, a process, a flow of students, professors, teaching, research, buildings, money, and academic degrees. Like the flowing water which constitutes a fountain or whirlpool, the fountain and whirlpool we call Harvard has been turning since 1640. If the flow stopped - if the students, faculty, and administration one day decided to stop the educational process and enter the real estate business - then Harvard University would cease to exist on that day. The people and buildings would still exist yet, like the fist and the whirlpool, Harvard University would vanish. If we generalize "act" to include static states, cars and tables may also be thought of as actions. Just as the dynamic act of folding the fingers together creates the fist, the static "act" of maintaining the fingers together allows the fist to continue existing. Similarly, the dynamic act of assembling the components creates the car or table. The static act of the components maintaining a continuing right relation allows the car or table to continue existing. Cars and tables are also actions on a deeper level since their subatomic components are actions. In the past, matter was thought of as something solid and static. A glass breaks into smaller glass particles, a rock may be ground into gravel. In each case, the "stuff" remains, solid, stable, and unmoving. It seemed matter was the antithesis of action. But the
. . . discovery that mass is nothing but a form of energy has forced us to modify our concept of a particle in an essential way. In modern physics, mass is no longer associated with a material substance, and hence particles are not seen as consisting of any basic 'stuff', but as bundles of energy. Since energy, however, is associated with activity, with processes, the implication is that the nature of subatomic particles is intrinsically dynamic. ([C03],202-3).

Today, according to quantum theory,

. . . particles are also waves . . . [P]articles are

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represented . . . by wave packets. . . . [M]atter is . . . never quiescent, but always in a state of motion. . . . Modern physics . . . pictures matter not at all as passive and inert, but as being in a continuous dancing and vibrating motion . . . ([C03],192-4).

Thus,

Modern physics has . . . revealed that every subatomic particle not only performs an energy dance, but also is an energy dance . . . ([C03],224).

Thus, material objects may be thought of as processes, dances of energy, actions. The Universe as an Action It's a small step from seeing matter as a dance of Energy to seeing the entire universe as such. Mystics have often taken this step. For instance, in India creation is described as the dance of the god Shiva, a symbol of the Absolute. And the Ashtavakra Gita pictures the universe's objects as waves and bubbles of the Eternal.
As waves, foam and bubbles are not different from water, so in the light of true knowledge, the Universe, born of the Self, is not different from the Self. (II,4,[A10],6).

The contemporary philosopher and theologian Alan Watts expressed this idea in the form of a children's story.
God also likes to play hide-and-seek, but because there is nothing outside God, he has no one but himself to play with. But he gets over this difficulty by pretending that he is not himself. This is his way of hiding from himself. He pretends that he is you and I and the people in the world, all the animals, all the plants, all the rocks, and all the stars. ([W02],14).

The universe as a wave on the ocean of God. God playing hide and seek. The images express the universe as an action, a dance, a wave, or a play of the God who is not a Person. Just as waves are a motion of the water, this universe is a motion of the God who is not a Person. There's another analogy which expresses the relationship between the Eternal and the universe. In a movie, one and only one thing visually exists - light projected on the screen. Although men, women, children, animals, houses, trees, and a thousand other things appear to exist, in reality only light exists. This fact is so obvious we habitually forget it. Mystics have tried to express a similarly forgotten truth about the universe and the God which is not a Person. Any man, woman, child, animal, house, tree, or other object, like figures on a movie screen, are images of an identical Source and Root. As Attar, a 12th century Sufi poet, wrote:
Although you seem to see many beings, in reality

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there is only one. . . ([A12],115).

The God which is not a Person "dances" this world into creation. When the mind of the dreamer is quiet there is no dream. Similarly, when the projector has no film, the screen is lit but bare of images. The light is still. When the mind begins to "dance", however, it creates images and a dream results. Similarly, when the film is loaded and running, the light dances and the movie begins. So, God dreams the world, dances it into creation. And just as light is the ground of the images on the screen, just as the mind of the dreamer is the ground of the dream images, the God which is not a Person is the ground of existence of this universe. Action, dance, wave, and play suggest the energies of God. We previously saw the Hesychastic distinction between God's essence and His energies, and the analogy of fire's heat, light, and sound to fire itself. Rufus Jones drew a similar distinction in speaking of the thought of Clement of Alexandria.
God, in His essential being, is transcendent, but dynamically He is immanent and near. The doctrine of an immanent God - God as Logos or Spirit, moving through all life and in immediate relation with the souls of men, is fundamental to Clement's thought . . . [H]e was . . . influenced . . . by the teaching of St. John and St. Paul. "In the beginning was the Logos; all things were made by Him." "In God we live and move and are." ([J02],48-9).

So God the Father is like fire, the thing-in-itself. And the Father's Son, the Logos, Christ, is like the fire's energies; the Logos is the dynamic energies of God which creates all things. The Spirit is those same dynamic energies experienced inside one's self. So our exterior and interior worlds are plays of the Uncreated Light, as is the "supernatural" world. The God who is not a Person assumes forms such as rocks, thoughts, and perhaps angels and Gods who are Persons. All such entities are actions brought into existence by an act, a play of the Eternal. They are all waves on an eternal ocean of Uncreated Light. As Angelus Silesius wrote:
It is as if God played a game immersed in contemplation; and from this game all worlds arose in endless variation. ([B05],55).

All worlds - the natural and the "supernatural" - are actions, plays of Eternal Energy. Voidness and Emptiness Fists, tables, cars, fountains, whirlpools and Harvard University are actions. They are component entities with an impermanent, unstable type of existence. They come into existence from nowhere and then vanish without a trace. And when they vanish, they don't "go"

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anywhere, they simply cease to be. When someone stops singing, the singing doesn't go anywhere, it simply ceases to be. When water is running down a drain, a whirlpool exists. When the water has run out, the whirlpool ceases to exist. When the water is turned off, a fountain of water ceases to exist. There is something unsettling about things like fists, fountains and whirlpools which pop into and out of existence so easily. Such chimerical entities seem to have a kind of existence which borders on illusion. It's easy to feel whirlpools aren't, in some sense, fully real. Realness, we feel, implies solidity and stability, and realness is what we often prefer. Who, for instance, would advance money to a business that just popped into existence yesterday and might pop out of existence tomorrow, rather than to an established firm? If a home could be built which might pop out of existence at any time, would anyone buy it? Actions and component entities have a type of existence which is less than fully real. As we look deeply into component entities, down below the level where their components exist, we see that, in the ultimate, ontological sense, they don't really exist at all. They are void and empty of real existence. As Nicholson writes:
Phenomena, as such, are not-being and only derive a contingent existence from the qualities of Absolute Being by which they are irradiated. The sensible world resembles the fiery circle made by a single spark whirling round rapidly. ([N11],82).

An example from the writings of Buddhadasa, a contemporary Buddhist monk, will illustrate how something which seems quite real is an appearance like the fiery circle. It might seem there are different kinds of water, such as rain water, well water, stream water, and river water. However, if we analyze each kind of water, we'll eventually find that there is really only one kind. If we disregard extraneous trace elements we find that each kind of water is identical.
If you proceed further with your analysis of pure water, you will conclude that there is no water - only two parts of hydrogen and one part of oxygen. Hydrogen and oxygen are not water. . . . [W]ater has disappeared. It is void, empty . . . For one who has penetrated to the truth at this level there is no such thing as water. ([B13],88-9).

So water, which seems to possess no parts, has parts - one part oxygen and two parts hydrogen. Moreover, (if I correctly remember my college chemistry) these parts must be in proper relative relation to each other - the two hydrogen atoms each attached to the oxygen atom with a 105 degree angle between them - for water to exist. If a molecule composed of one oxygen atom attached to a hydrogen atom attached to another hydrogen atom could exist chemically, it wouldn't be water. Thus, water is a component entity. Or water may be called 35

an action, for just as the fingers and thumb must remain in a certain position relative to each other for a fist to exist, the hydrogen and oxygen atoms must remain in a certain position relative to each other for water to exist. Voidness and emptiness are the lot of all entities with only relative existence. So, in a sense the entire physical universe lacks a real existence. In a sense it's false and unreal.
. . . [T]he physical world operates under one fundamental law of maya, the principle of relativity and duality. God, the Sole Life, is Absolute Unity; to appear as the separate and diverse manifestations of a creation He wears a false or unreal veil. That illusory dualistic veil is maya. ([Y02],310).

A word about a potentially confusing point: the Eternal is sometimes called empty or void but with an entirely different meaning. As Buddhadasa writes:
The ultimately real is empty, not in the sense that it is vacuous, but in that it transcends any attempt to dichotomize or conceptualize it. ([B13],18).

Johannes Scotus Erigena, a 9th Century Christian philosopher, had a similar idea.
Therefore so long as it is understood to be incomprehensible by reason of its transcendence it is not unreasonably called "Nothing" . . . ([E05],681A,308).

The meaning might be clearer if "No thing" had be used instead of "Nothing." "Void" or "Empty" would have also served. Erigena continues:
[B]ut when it begins to appear in its theophanies it is said to proceed, as it were, out of nothing into something ([E05],681A,308).

A theophany is

[a] manifestation or appearance of a deity or of the gods to man. ([F08],1389).

Erigena believed

. . . every visible and invisible creature can be called a theophany, that is, a divine apparition. ([E05],681A,308).

Therefore, every rock, thought, angel, and God who is a Person is a manifestation of Uncreated Light. Absolute Existence Even water, though apparently a pure and simple substance, is actually an action, a component entity with relative existence. Is everything an action? Does everything have only relative existence? Is everything void and empty of real existence? Or is there something which isn't a component entity, which possesses full and real existence? 36

If something exists but has no parts, then it can't be a component entity and it can't have relative existence - there are simply no parts to be related. Such an entity could have full and real existence. Is there anything which isn't a component entity. Is there anything which has no parts? If we use "pure" in the sense of "unmixed," and "simple" in the sense of "composed of only one substance or element," then the question may be rephrased, is there anything that's pure and simple? On the material level science has found only one entity that's pure and simple. What of thoughts and emotions, might not they be pure and simple? An obvious view is since thoughts apparently come into and go out of existence, they're actions. Therefore they possess only relative existence. There is, however, another view going back to Plato which sees thoughts and ideas, especially mathematical concepts, as pre-existing.
According to Platonism, mathematical objects are real. Their existence is an objective fact, quite independent of our knowledge of them. . . . They exist outside the space and time of physical existence. They are immutable - they were not created, and they will not change or disappear. . . . [A] mathematician is an empirical scientist like a geologist; he cannot invent anything, because it is all there already. All he can do is discover. ([D04],318)

In Infinity and the Mind, mathematician Rudy Rucker proposes a similar concept, a "mindscape" where all thoughts already exist. In this view, when we think a thought our mind's eye sees that alreadyexisting thought in the mindscape, just as we see an already existing rock as we walk across some landscape.
Just as a rock is already in the Universe, whether or not someone is handling it, an idea is already in the Mindscape, whether or not someone is thinking it. ([R06],36).

When our mind's eye turns away or moves from a thought, we cease to think it. Just as when we walk far enough past the rock, we cease to see it. Yet both rock and thought continue to exist in the landscape and mindscape respectively. A similar idea, of course, could be proposed for emotions. So thoughts and emotions may actually be pre-existing, unchanging entities, rather than actions that pop into and out of existence. Of course, they wouldn't be pure and simple if they were component entities. Are they? Some thoughts do seem compound. The thought "I am hungry," for example, involves at least two components, the thought "I" and the thought "hungry." But what about the simple thought "hungry"? What about emotions such as love or fear? Are they simple entities? Are some thoughts and emotions pure and simple entities? I don't know, 37

although my inclination is to consider only the Real as Pure and Simple. If we suppose some emotions and thoughts are pure, simple, selfexistent entities, then we seem to approach Plato's idea of eternal Ideas or Forms. Even though this idea has a respectable intellectual lineage, it doesn't appear in many of the systems of belief upon which the perennial philosophy is based. So we won't use it in this book. So we'll assume thought and emotions have relative existence. Therefore, there's only one entity which isn't a component entity, the Ultimate Ground of Existence which is pure, simple, and one. Since the Source is one, It has no parts, and thus is not a component entity. If the Root doesn't have relative existence, what kind of existence does it have? What other kinds of existence are there? Absolute is frequently taken as an opposite of relative. What might the term "absolute existence" mean? We've seen how relative existence implies parts in a certain relation, which implies a precarious type of existence since the parts may lose their special relation, causing the component entity to cease existing. Absolute existence, therefore, should imply something which has no parts, is pure and simple, and furthermore doesn't have an existence dependent on anything. In other words, absolute existence is existence pure and simple, self-contained existence with no dependencies on anything else, such as components and their relation. As we've seen, the Self-Existent has these characteristics, and so is in possession of absolute existence. We've also seen component entities don't really exist below the level of their components. On the subatomic scale, water does not cannot - exist. This is why compound entities' existence is called void and empty. There's no level, however, below the level of the Root and Ultimate Ground of Existence. Therefore, the existence of the Source isn't void or empty. The Self-Existent fully and really exists. Thus It deserves the names the "Real," "Ultimate Reality," "Eternal Reality," and "Absolute Reality".
The Brahman, the one substance which alone is eternally pure, eternally awakened, unlimited by time, space, and causation, is absolutely real. ([S01],254).

Discrimination Our chain of reasoning has shown the inner and outer worlds we know are unreal, in a sense. Only the Eternal is fully real. In Hindu religious literature, such reasoning is called discrimination. Today the word "discrimination" usually suggests bigotry and hatred. In contemporary society, the phrase "practicing discrimination" is an accusation rather than a compliment since it

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refers to the social evils of racial, sexual, or ethnic discrimination. For example, the first definition of "discriminate" in a dictionary is
1. to make a distinction in favor of or against a person or thing on a categorical basis rather than according to actual merit. ([R01],379).

However, an wider meaning appears next.

2. to note or observe a difference; distinguish accurately. ([R01],379).

In the past the word "discrimination" was often used in the second sense, as a compliment to a person's refinement and discernment. The discriminating tastes of the gourmet, for example, can distinguish a fine wine from an ordinary wine; a sharp business person can tell the difference between a legitimate deal and a scam; a critical reasoner can separate the valid argument from sophistry; a competent engineer can discriminate between solid ground able to support a heavy building and sandy, unstable soil which can not. Looking for a good used car, unmechanically inclined people push their mechanical discriminative ability to the limit. In the religious sense "discrimination" refers to spiritual discernment. The ancient Christian monk, Evagrios, for instance, in his Texts on Discrimination in respect of Passions and Thoughts ([P13],VI,38), warns against "demons" such as avarice, gluttony, pride, anger, dejection, and unchastity. A religious seeker should learn to discriminate helpful passions and thoughts from unhelpful ones, but the highest type of religious discrimination is
. . . the reasoning by which one knows that God alone is real and all else is unreal. Real means eternal, and unreal means impermanent. He who has acquired discrimination knows that God is the only Substance and all else is non-existent. . . . Through discrimination between the Real and the unreal one seeks to know God. ([G03],327).

Identity or Self We've already discussed our own identity. Let's now investigate the identity of actions and component entities. Do actions have an identity? If I fold my hand again have I made the same fist? It may seem I have since I'm using the same hand, but with other actions the answer isn't so obvious. Consider the whirlpool created when water runs down a drain. The whirlpool is an action of the water just as fist is an action of my hand. Now plug the drain, come back the next day and unplug it. A whirlpool is created again. Is it the same whirlpool? It's hard to imagine how a whirlpool could have an identity. The water which composes it is always changing, always flowing. If you feel it is the

39

same whirlpool, then what about the following? After I plug the drain, I move all the water to another sink or bathtub and open the drain. Is it the same whirlpool now? What if I move the water and mix in an equal amount of chlorine. Same whirlpool? It can be difficult or impossible finding an identity in actions such as fists or whirlpools. What about more substantial actions? What, for example, about Harvard University? Does it have an identity? We've seen Harvard University has been in existence since 1640. We've also seen the difficulty involved in trying to determine what has been in existence since that year. Just like a fountain or whirlpool, what we call "Harvard University" is a flow of students, professors, buildings, money, etc. Has any one thing persisted over those years that deserves to be called "Harvard University?" In other words, does Harvard University have an identity? If we try to find the enduring reality behind Harvard, the thing or things that were Harvard in 1640 and still are Harvard today, we fail. No one person or thing has been Harvard University over the years. Its identity - such as it is - consists in the educational action of a multitude of components - students, professors, buildings, money, and degrees. It a strict sense Harvard University has no identity. So attaching the idea of identity to actions is impossible. Actions lack a real identity, a real self. To be sure, for conversational and practical purposes, we use the terms whirlpool, fist, and Harvard University, and, in the practical sense, they exist. However, it's difficult or impossible to define their identity - to define exactly what exists - since they don't really exist in an ultimate sense. Assigning them a more than conversational, practical identity is impossible. But what about simple, solid entities such as tables and cars? Does any component entity have an identity? Certainly we feel it's the same table, the same car, that existed when we last saw them. And certainly they have a conversational and practical type of identity. But it's a weak kind of identity since the very existence of component entities itself is so weak. Since a table's components (it's a component entity . . .) must maintain the same relation to each other (. . . possessing relative existence) for the table to keep existing, if we disassemble the table it ceases to exist as a table. So any identity the table had must cease too. If the table is reassembled, is it the same table? If you believe it is, then what if we put the legs on different corners? Is it still the same table? Strictly, since the legs are now in different positions, it's a different table. In a more common sense view, however, the table with switched legs is the same since the same "stuff," the same top and legs, exist. (Common sense because if the legs of a table were rearranged, hardly anyone would claim it was now a brand new, freshly manufactured table - unless they were trying to dishonestly sell it for a higher price!) However, if the table were ground into 40

sawdust its "stuff" would still exist (as sawdust), but the table would not. Would it be the same table if it were reduced to sawdust? No, since it wouldn't be a table at all. Yet, the feeling may be that the table does have some sort of identity. "It" is really there, existing from one moment to the next, the same. Physicist Arthur Eddington discussed this question, not about tables but about elephants. How do we know, he asks, if the elephant we saw a moment ago is the same elephant we see now? We can, of course, measure the elephant in all sorts of ways - weight, height, color, and others. Each of these measurements yields a pointer reading on a scale, a ruler, or some other measurement device. If it's the same elephant, the measurements should be approximately equal over a short time. However, might not an entirely different elephant have the same weight, height, etc.?
Two readings may be equal, but it is meaningless to inquire if they are identical; if then the elephant is a bundle of pointer readings, how can we ask whether it is continually the identical bundle? ([E01],256).

Eddington concludes

. . . the test of identity is clearly outside the present domain of physics. The only test lying purely in the domain of physics is that of continuity . . . ([E01],256).

On first sight this argument may seem unconvincing. After all, couldn't the elephant be marked in some unique way so we'd be sure the elephant we saw today was the same one we saw yesterday? The issue, however, is much deeper. It rests on the assumption the atoms which compose the elephant remain the same. This assumption has often been held. For example, Schrodinger wrote that all proponents of atomic theory from the Greeks to the nineteenth century believed
. . . atoms are individuals, identifiable, small bodies just like the coarse palpable objects in our environment. ([S06],17).

However, as scientists investigated the deeper nature of atoms, they were forced to abandon the idea that an atom is
. . . an individual entity which in principle retains its 'sameness' for ever. Quite the contrary, we are now obliged to assert that the ultimate constituents of matter have no 'sameness' at all. When you observe a particle . . . now and here, this is to be regarded in principle as an isolated event. ([S06],17).

Might the word "event" be replaced by "action"? Schrodinger continued:

Even if you do observe a similar particle a very short time later at a spot very near to the first, and even if you have every reason to assume a causal connection between the first and the second observation, there is no true, unambiguous meaning in the assertion that it

41

is the same particle . . . ([S06],17).

If individual atoms fail to have an identity, how can anything composed of them - an elephant, for instance - possess an identity? Buddha recognized compound entities lack an identity:
All compound things lack a self . . . ([C04],158).

He did, however, grant a kind of conditional identity to compound entities, comparing their identity to that of a candle flame.
. . . [T]he flame of to-day is in a certain sense the same as the flame of yesterday, and in another sense it is different at every moment. ([C04],156).

In the sense of continuity, the flame now has descended from the flame of a moment ago, the whirlpool now is the descendent of the whirlpool of the past, "the child is father to the man" - but the child is not the same as the man. Previously, we saw the only absolute identity we possess is our Consciousness which we equated with the Ultimate Ground of Existence. Of course, if the Real didn't have an identity Itself, then it certainly couldn't function as our identity. Does the Absolute have an identity? First, the Root actually and truly exists, as opposed to actions which have the temporary, unstable type of existence. Second, the Source is simple, pure, and has no components or parts. Thirdly, the Unconditioned is eternal and unchanging, so what It is today, It was yesterday and will be tomorrow. So It remains the same under different conditions. So the Root and Source has an identity. This idea has found expression in mystical literature. For example, the Islamic Sufis Abu Sa'id al-Kharraz and Abu Nasr al-Sarraj taught only God has the right to say "I." ([E06],10). And, the Sufi Bayazid wrote:
. . . the only real identity is God . . . God is the only one who has the right to say "I am." ([E06],26).

Looking Back, Looking Ahead - II In this chapter we saw that component entities: have an impermanent kind of existence dependent on the relationship of their parts; can cease to exist; in fact, are void and empty of real existence; and have no real identity. The Absolute, on the other hand, has real, permanent, independent existence, and a real identity. We've now completed Part II, so we'll take some time to stop and see where we've been and where we're going. Part I discussed the religious and scientific ways of knowing, the Ultimate Ground of Existence, and people who've had direct experience of It. It also discussed applying the scientific way of knowing to mystics' statements. 42

In the second part, we built a world view on mystical visions. We described the relationship of the outer, inner, and "supernatural" worlds to the Primal, the One. Of course, entirely different world views based on mystical visions could be constructed, as well. It's worth observing that the world view we've seen isn't fully scientific. It couldn't be because it's the world view of a single individual while science is a group effort. Replication is an essential part of science. Scientific claims must be tested by others before they're accepted. So until our world view is tested by others it can't claim to be scientific. Until it's tested, it's only a tentative, first hypothesis, a starting point. And, of course, if it's to remain scientific, it must always remain open to question and criticism, subject to change and revision, capable of adaptation and improvement. It can never stagnate into dogma. In the third and final part, we'll discuss practical consequences. The dominant questions will be: So what? Can these thoughts have practical consequences in how I live? How can these ideas and beliefs affect my life? We'll go from world view to practical consequences in steps. The first step will be describing the goals our world view contains. A world view is a kind of map, and a map shows not only what is, but what is possible. If it shows mountains, then we may think of climbing them. If it shows a sea, we may think of sailing it. Just like maps, world views differ. Some have wider scopes than others. Some world views have a limited scope in that they only discuss this world. They're silent about where we came from, what happens after death, and even our ultimate purpose here. In other world views, death is followed by heaven or hell; in others, by reincarnation; in still others, by destruction, the self just evaporates into nothingness. Obviously, if someone's world view doesn't include an afterlife then getting to heaven or obtaining a good reincarnation won't be one of their goals. It can't be since it's not on their map. On the other hand, if a person's world view includes heaven, then they may value getting there. They may undertake some actions to ensure their place in heaven. Reaching heaven may be one of their goals. Similarly, if a person's world view doesn't allow that gnosis direct experience of and even union with the Eternal - is possible, then they aren't likely to value gnosis, or even know of its existence. But, since the map which is our world view does show gnosis, we can not only value gnosis but make it a goal, a life aim. We'll discuss goals, with emphasis on gnosis. The second step will be deriving subordinate goals, things which aren't ends in themselves but means to gnosis. Someone whose goal is becoming a professional athlete might adopt the subordinate goal of 43

exercising and practicing every day. The subordinate goal isn't an end in itself. Rather it's a means for developing the skill and strength required to achieve the main goal. Similarly, a seeker of gnosis might adopt subordinate goals, certain attitudes and actions which help the journey to gnosis. The seeker will value these attitudes and actions not for their own sake, but as helps to direct experience of and union with the Eternal Light. We'll discuss various beliefs and actions which seekers of gnosis often value. Identical world view and goals don't necessarily imply identical values. For example, among those who believe in heaven, some may be so eager for heaven now they pursue martyrdom or death in a holy war, while others are content to let death come in its own time. Similarly, our world view and the goal of gnosis don't necessarily imply only one set of values. Just as mystical declarations can support various world views, our world view and the goal of gnosis can support various values. In particular, we'll see two different values systems, the so-called negative way and affirmative way. The third step will be picking out the values which have practical consequences. Some beliefs, actions, and attitudes which seekers of gnosis value have obvious practical consequences. For example, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." Others do not. For example, the major doctrinal difference between Western and Eastern Christianity is that the West believes the Holy Ghost proceeds from the Father and the Son, while the East holds to the ancient belief that the procession is from the Father alone. Values which have practical consequences are called ethics. Thus, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you" is an ethic, while "the Holy Ghost proceeds from the Father" or "the Father and Son" is not. Rather, it's a dogma. We'll discuss certain ethics which derive from our values. The last step will be deriving specific morals from our ethics. The same ethic may lead to different morals. For example, two people might share the ethic that human life is sacred and should be protected. One, however, interprets this ethic as forbidding abortion but allowing war. The other feels the fetus is not fully human but believes in pacifism. Both are implementing the same ethic in their own way. Someone who refrains from abortion but fights in a war has different morals than the person who accepts abortion but refuses to go to war. But both may have the same ethic, a respect for human life. How they express this ethic in action - that is, their morals - disagree. We'll discuss certain morals which derive from our ethics, too. So we'll be taking a "top-down approach." We'll begin at the top with our map, our world view, our mental picture of what is what. Based on our map, we'll describe potential goals. Based on our goals, we derive values. We'll pick out the values and principles which have practical consequences, the ethics. Morals are how we put our ethics 44

in practice.

Part III: Consequences

11

- Goals -

Chapter Summary: This chapter explores various types of goals, with emphasis on mystical goals. Various afterlife possibilities (heaven, hell, reincarnation) are also discussed. Lastly, it discusses how various mystical goals can motivate a spiritual quest and lead to direct experience of God. Deciding what's true is the business of a way of knowing. A world view's function is to create a map of the world and our place in it. But the number of true facts may be infinite. Which are important? Which are valuable? The number of places on a map may be numerous. Towards which are we traveling, or being carried? How are we to direct our lives? What goals should we choose? We'll begin our discussion of these questions by examining various types of goals, various types of places on the map which is our world view. We'll discuss three kinds of goals: common goals, afterlife goals, and beyond-the-show-world (transcendental) goals. Common Goals and the Afterlife Common goals are common to people around the world, irrespective of their religion or philosophy. Common goals include physical goals such as food, clothing, shelter, and wealth; emotional goals such as love, friendship, and respect; and intellectual goals such as wanting to know, understand, and discover. Many examples of common goals may be given: someone drinks water to satisfy their thirst; someone works to earn money for life's necessities and pleasures; people marry for, among other reasons, emotional fulfillment; a student goes to college to get a degree. Some common goals remain completed for only a short time: water satisfies my thirst, but my thirst soon returns; the money I earn this week soon runs out. Other common goals remain completed much longer. An academic degree, for instance, lasts a lifetime; a building may easily outlive its builder. Yet time eventually destroys the building, and death, seemingly, destroys the builder. Is death really a destroyer? Some people believe death does, in fact, bring utter destruction, that there is no afterlife, no continued existence beyond death. Even though religion offers the promise of eternal life, it actually gives, they believe, only emotional satisfactions - the assurance of justification in the sight of a God who probably doesn't exist, the fantasy of a pleasant afterlife. 45

Some reasons why this belief is not widely held are obvious. Many people find it impossible to believe our bodies, almost infinitesimal specks in the vastness of the universe, and our life spans, almost infinitesimal specks in the linesman of the universe, are all we are. Is it really true, they argue, we love, hate, hope, and strive, and none of it endures or matters? What kind of universe, they ask, could create such pitiful entities as ourselves, giving us enough intelligence to realize our own contingency, finiteness, and futility, and then utterly destroy us? Moreover, if death brings destruction, then death puts us beyond the consequences of our actions. Saint and sinner both cease to exist, with no reward for the saint and no punishment for the sinner. I use "saint" and "sinner," by the way, in a loose sense. There are probably many thoroughly non-religious people who would reject the idea that a person who dies saving a bus full of children and a madman who dies bombing a hospital and nursery school both suffer the same fate - utter destruction - with the "saint" unrewarded, the "sinner" unpunished. But if death isn't a destroyer then it must be a transformer, a deliverer into some sort of continued existence, some sort of afterlife. And if we continue to exist after death, then possibly our past actions still affect us, even as they do in this life. But how can the effects of past actions extend beyond death? One possibility is through the agency of a God who rewards and punishes. Another possibility is a more subtle mechanism where actions affect character and character affects destiny. In this view, we not only create our actions; our actions in a sense create us. Afterlife Goals If death indeed doesn't bring utter destruction, then some part of us must survive in some sort of afterlife existence. Those who believe in an afterlife existence may act with an eye to preparing for their afterlife state. That is, afterlife goals may motivate some of their actions here. It's worthwhile noting that the usual association of the afterlife with religion isn't absolutely necessary. If we find ourselves born into this world by purely natural means then it's possible we'll find ourselves born into another, after death, by purely natural means too. Those who think of themselves as the body assume that if anything survives, it's the spirit. And so they naturally associate the afterlife with religion. But we've seen how the body is a entity with relative existence, lacking an enduring identity. Therefore, it's possible our real identity - however one conceives it - persists after death through purely natural means, without the agency of a God. But since the afterlife is almost always discussed within the context of religion, we'll discuss it in that context too. 46

Many religions offer afterlife goals, such as the goal of everlasting life, of immortality, in the company of a God who is a Person. In some religions, such life begins immediately after death. In other religions, death is followed by reincarnation into another body; only after a long series of lives does the soul reach its final state, life with God. Afterlife goals include the attainment of heaven, the avoidance of hell, and the avoidance of a bad reincarnation, such as rebirth as an unfortunate person or even an animal. My family's religion offered the afterlife goals of heaven, hell, and purgatory. Even at an early age, however, I didn't find these ideas completely believable. As an 8 yearold boy sitting in a Roman Catholic catechism class, I decided if only those who were baptized and believed in Jesus could get into heaven, then, for example, someone who lived in China 5,000 years ago was forever excluded from heaven - through no fault of their own but simply because they had been born 3,000 years too early. Later, I doubted the Catholic teaching that dying with an unforgiven mortal sin resulted in eternal hell. At the time, deliberately eating meat on Friday was a mortal sin. I couldn't believe some young boy who knew it was Friday but ate a hot dog anyway might die and spend all eternity tortured in hell. (Nevertheless, I never ate hot dogs on Friday!) As I grew and saw more of the world, the very existence of heaven and hell seemed more and more doubtful. Nonetheless, I could still admire the intelligence of this explanation of why the good suffer and the evil prosper. The good sometime do evil and must suffer for it on earth so when they die they may go straight to heaven. The evil sometime do good and must be repaid on earth so when they die they may go straight to hell. The explanation's cleverness pleased me. But I had lost belief in the existence of heaven and hell. Most people, it seemed, led moderately good and moderately bad lives, lives deserving of neither the eternal bliss of heaven nor the eternal punishment of hell. Consider for instance "Pete," who died when he was seventy. Pete had never been very religious. He had an average disposition, sometimes cheerful and sometimes moody. As a father, Pete was often attentive and loving - when he wasn't too drunk. He'd committed adultery once, but felt guilty afterwards and had managed never to do it again. Yet many women were the object of his fantasies. Pete was mostly honest at business, but he paid his employees as little as possible. He wrote highly imaginative income tax returns. There were some people in town Pete didn't like, and he usually let them know it if they weren't too powerful or influential. Over his life, Pete maintained a few close friendships. These friends as well as Pete's wife and children grieved when he died. They missed him. 47

Does Pete deserve the eternal bliss of heaven in the company of God and angels? Or the eternal torment of hell in the company of Satan and demons? Or neither? Such doubts may have motivated the Roman Catholic idea of purgatory, a place where souls go who die with unforgiven nonmortal sins. Since these souls are not sinless, they do not yet deserve heaven. But since their sins are not mortal, they don't deserve hell either. So they go to purgatory. Eventually when they're cleansed of their less-than-mortal sins, they advance to heaven. For me, however, the addition of the after-death alternative of purgatory didn't help. Purgatory was only for those who had died with unforgiven non-mortal sins. The young boy who knowingly ate the hot dog and died still went to hell. Forever. Afterlife and Personal Identity Eventually after I'd come to some understanding of personal identity, I began to doubt that an individual person could dwell in heaven for all eternity. Believers in a God who is a Person often interpret immortality as perpetual existence for their own personal identity. However, if personal identity does not consist of the Eternal - if it's changing and transitory, and forever distinct from the Eternal - then which relative personality or personalities get "frozen" into immortality? A woman, "Anna," is 12 years old when her 30 year-old mother dies. Anna herself lives to see ninety. During those 90 years, Anna is many different people: infant, child, adolescent, student, woman, wife, mother, attorney, Sunday school teacher, bridge player, grandmother, etc. At various times of her life, Anna is naive, sophisticated, generous, stingy, serious, playful, frivolous, patient, quick-tempered, trusting, suspicious, etc. Suppose a few traits such as jealousy, pride, sloth, or impatience appear in most, or all, of the people Anna is. That is, suppose Anna has a few characteristic vices. Which of Anna's personalities, which of her traits, are given immortality in heaven? Just one or, in some way, all of them? Is her characteristic jealous streak, her tendency to pride and arrogance, her slothfulness, or impatience incorporated into her heavenly personality? Certainly, most people don't picture heaven with prideful, arrogant, slothful, or impatient residents. Are, then, only Ann's good qualities included in her heavenly personality? By the way, I'm assuming qualities such as honesty, patience, kindness, charity, and love are compatible with life in heaven, and qualities such as lust, hatred, greed, envy, sloth, and malice are not. Many religions where God is thought of as a Person have such a morality. Later I'll discuss morality for followers of the God who is not a Person. For 78 years, Anna looks forward to seeing her mother in heaven. 48

But when Anna reaches heaven, will she have to assume the body and personality of her 12 year-old self to meet her long deceased mother? What if Anna would rather have the body and personality of her fortyfifth year? How could she relate to her mother, whose body and personality were set at 30? Moreover, Anna's own children and grandchildren look forward to seeing her in heaven. Her children look forward to seeing Anna as she was in middle age; her grandchildren hope to see sweet, old granny Annie with the silver hair. When they all are in heaven, which body and personality does Anna have? How can Anna's different earthly personalities, the frivolous and naive child, the serious and sophisticated adult, fuse to form one single person, a person purified of Anna's characteristic faults and vices? Isn't an essentially new person created if Anna's purified and fused heavenly personality has only Anna's good elements, and lacks the bad? Doesn't the transformation produce an essentially new person, only distantly related to the many people Anna was on earth? Further, if we assume Anna is somehow transformed into a purified and fused person then we may ask: does a purified and fused person remain the same forever, throughout all eternity? If it does, it would forever lack any good qualities that Anna never acquired on earth. Or, at least, they'd be underdeveloped. For example, suppose Anna never learnt patience. Then even though her heavenly personality might never be obviously impatient, would it have perfect loving patience? How would a personality which was never patient on earth acquire perfect patience in heaven? It would have to be able to change, to evolve. Suppose heaven's fused and purified personalities can evolve, can acquire or bring to perfection any good qualities they lacked on earth. Eventually, after they've acquired and perfected all the virtues, they would be very similar to each other, if not identical. The originally distinct mother and child would have evolved into two, essentially identical persons. Purified of all vices and possessing all virtues, any heavenly person seeing another would merely see its own reflection. Anna and her mother would have evolved into two identically perfect and perfectly identical persons. Reincarnation Proponents of reincarnation believe the process of purification and evolution just described occurs over a series of lives, on earth or elsewhere. Slowly, life after life, we move closer to our ultimate destination: experience of, and eventual union with, the One. Only when we've reached the level of purity enjoyed by the Absolute, they say, may our consciousness merge with the One; for only then is the purified soul identical to the One. Thus the merging doesn't change the Unchangeable, or add to the One. Here, too, the assumption is the 49

One possesses all the moral virtues in the highest degree and we too must acquire them before we may merge with It. Although reincarnation is often thought to be an Eastern belief, it's been held in the West as well. In Plato's Phaedo, for example, Socrates says
. . . the living come from the dead, just as the dead come from the living . . . the souls of the dead must exist in some place out of which they come again. (Phaedo 72A, [D07],VI,424).

A more contemporary expression occurs in the modern fable Jonathan Livingston Seagull.
Most of us came along ever so slowly. We went from one world into another that was almost exactly like it, forgetting right away where we had come from, not caring where we were headed, living for the moment. Do you have any idea how many lives we must have gone through before we even got the first idea that there is more to life than eating, or fighting, or power in the Flock? A thousand lives, Jon, ten thousand! And then another hundred lives until we began to learn that there is such a thing as perfection, and another hundred again to get the idea that our purpose for living is to find that perfection and show it forth. . . . [W]e choose our next world through what we learn in this one. Learn nothing, and the next world is the same as this one, all the same limitations and lead weights to overcome. ([B01],53-4).

The idea of reincarnation initially attracted me. I'd heard about cases like the ones in ([S24]) Twenty Cases Suggestive of Reincarnation, and been impressed. (Years later, Children Who Remember Previous Lives ([S23]), by the same author, appeared.) A representative case is as follows. A young child, Sarah, has memories of a previous life in another town, with another family. In some cases, Sarah remembers being a child in her former life; in other cases, a woman or a man. Sarah describes her former town, house, and family in detail. Her parents eventually take her to the town. Sarah immediately finds her former house and family; they are as Sarah remembered them. The person Sarah claims to have been indeed existed but died before Sarah was born. Rebirth on earth seemed a fitting fate for most souls, an appropriate reward for moderately good and moderately bad lives. At first, it also seemed to explain why some are born to good circumstances and some are born to bad: their births are simply a reward or punishment for actions in previous lives. Certainly, that seemed much fairer than supposing some infants begin their oneandonly life in loving families, nurtured materially, emotionally, morally, 50

and intellectually, while others begin their one-and-only life in hostile, deranged families, enduring material, emotional, moral, and intellectual deprivation and abuse. But seeing birth circumstances as simply a reward or punishment for behavior in past lives doesn't fit the facts. For certainly, some born to good circumstances have unprincipled, selfish, even degenerate natures. Conversely, others born to harsh circumstances have principled, loving, altruistic natures. These natures, the result of lifetimes of good and bad character development, should imply commensurate birth opportunities, but often do not. Moreover, seeing birth circumstances as a straightforward reward or punishment means an infant suffers blindness, physical deformation, or mental retardation because of actions in some past life. In effect, it says the baby deserves their fate; that innocents are, in fact, not innocent. But if life circumstances aren't a straightforward reward or punishment for past actions, then what are they? Do they occur with any rhyme or reason? Perhaps not. As we've seen, pain and suffering are an inherent part of our world. If we suppose multiple life spans, then it's probable that, in some life or another, we'll find ourselves in unfortunate circumstances. Thus birth circumstances need not reflect our evolution. Given enough lives, all of us will, in our experience of the variety this universe has to offer, experience unhappy, undesirable lives. So perhaps chance determines why someone is born into a particular situation. There is, however, another possibility. It's possible our experiences are meant to teach us something, to help us on our journey home to the Source. So, someone may be born into wealth not as a reward for previous good deeds, but as an opportunity to learn that wealth is ultimately unsatisfactory as a replacement for experience of the Absolute. After a number of such lives, this individual's desire for wealth will be quenched. A much more evolved individual, on the other hand, may be spending this life learning to transcend an unhealthy body, or learning patience and forgiveness as a member of a despised minority. However, I don't intend to promote passivity and acceptance of injustice; such an individual might just as easily be learning to fight for justice. Whether our experiences are meant to teach us something or happen at random, it is up to us to make the most of them. How we respond leaves its record in our character, and character marks how far a consciousness has progressed in its journey toward conscious reunion with the Eternal. Between Death and Birth Even if a person remembers parts of what appear to be a past life, they usually have no recollection or description of the time between death and rebirth. Life After Life paints a partial description based on the 51

near-death experience of 150 people. A composite near-death experience is as follows.

A man . . . hears himself pronounced dead . . . He begins to hear . . a loud ringing . . . and . . . feels himself moving . . . through a long dark tunnel. . . . [H]e sees his own body from a distance . . . Others come to meet and to help him. . . . [A] loving, warm spirit . . . - a being of light - appears before him. . . . He is overwhelmed by intense feelings of joy, love, and peace. . . . [H]e somehow reunites with his physical body and lives. ([M16],23-4).

Life After Life discusses similar experiences from the Bible, the writings of Plato and Swedenborg, and ([T05]) The Tibetan Book of the Dead, which has the most complete description. The Tibetan Book of the Dead claims to describe not only the immediate time after death, but the complete journey of the soul from death to rebirth as well. A summary follows. The newly disembodied consciousness encounters ([T05],89) "the fundamental Clear Light . . . the Unborn Dharma-Kaya", the ([T05],95) "Radiance of the Clear Light of Pure Reality" which is ([T05],104) "subtle, sparkling, bright, dazzling, glorious, and radiantly awesome." An editorial footnote describes ([T05],12) this Light as "The Uncreated, the Unshaped, the Unmodified" and as ([T05],11) containing "the essence of the Universe." Our Consciousness, unborn and undying, is that Light.
Thine own consciousness, shining, void, and inseparable from the Great Body of Radiance, hath no birth, nor death, and is the Immutable Light . . . ([T05],96).

If the soul can recognize and unite with the Clear Light, it will escape from Maya's show, i.e. it will attain liberation. However, most souls are unprepared to behold, much less unite with, the "radiantly awesome" Clear Light of Reality. As Huxley writes:
Following Boehme and William Law, we may say that, by unregenerate souls, the divine Light at its full blaze can be apprehended only as a burning, purgatorial fire. An almost identical doctrine is to be found in The Tibetan Book of the Dead, where the departed soul is described as shrinking in agony from the Pure Light of the Void . . . in order to rush headlong into the comforting darkness of selfhood . . . ([H10],55-6).

Thus, most souls journey through various levels of phenomenal existence, encountering peaceful and wrathful deities and a judgement, and eventually are reborn, on earth or elsewhere. What constitutes an "unregenerate" soul? What prevents a consciousness from uniting with the Real? A footnote in The Tibetan Book of the Dead discusses this question.
In the realm of the Clear Light, . . . the mentality of a

52

person dying momentarily enjoys a condition of balance, or perfect equilibrium, and of oneness. Owing to unfamiliarity with such a state, which is an ecstatic state of non-ego, . . . the consciousness-principle of the average human being lacks the power to function in it; karmic propensities becloud the consciousnessprinciple with thoughts of personality, of individualized being, of dualism, and, losing equilibrium, the consciousness-principle falls away from the Clear Light. It is ideation of ego, of self, which prevents the realization of Nirvana . . . and so the Wheel of Life continues to turn. ([T05],97).

Karmic propensities refers to our habits, which are the results of past actions. Nirvana means union with the Real. We've already seen how attachment to dualistic perception of the universe veils the One. What creates attachment to dualistic perception? Pleasure. Therefore, the yin aspect of pleasure is that desire increases and we become more enmeshed in the drama. And what creates detachment to dualistic perception? Pain. Therefore, the yang aspect of pain is that desire decreases and we draw away from the drama, we become less enmeshed in it. Therefore, pleasurable and painful entities actually have equal amounts of yang and yin. By the way, there's a more basic dualistic perception than perception of the universe: perception of our own relative selves, our ego. Individuality is still a kind of duality. A Third Kind of Goal After many lives, we tire of the show. The dancing Light which is Maya fails to amuse. Component entities are transitory; we begin to seek something which is permanent. Component entities don't really exist below the level of their components; we begin to seek the truly Existent, the Real. Component entities contain a measure of pain and are unsatisfying, at least partially; we begin to seek That which is perfectly fulfilling. Tired of perceiving the individual qualities of various thoughts, emotions, and physical objects, we seek to experience their Isness. Knowing component entities can never satisfy our thirst for the Eternal, we seek to transcend dualistic perception, to undo the flip that occurred in Eden. We wish to behold the One, the Source, the Ultimate Ground of Existence. We seek return to the Kingdom of Heaven, the Pure Land, Eden. Now, desire has been born for experience of the One, the Eternal, the Ultimate Ground of Existence. Now, longing has begun for God, for religion in the root meaning of the word - re-joining or refastening. Now,
[t]he race is precisely the flight from creatures to union with the uncreated. ([M11],89).

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[n]o man shall ever know what is true blessedness Till oneness overwhelm and swallow separateness. ([S13],53).

Thus,

[t]he wise have one wish left: to know the Whole, the Absolute. The foolish lose themselves in fragments and ignore the root. ([B05],51),

Once the desire is born in someone for gnosis, for knowledge of the Eternal, either first-hand or unitive, a quest has begun which will eventually dominate their entire life.
"Here," says Ruysbroeck on the soul which has been lit by the Uncreated Light, "there begins an eternal hunger . . . If God gave to such a man all the gifts which all the saints possess, and all that He is able to give, but without giving Himself, the craving desire of the spirit would remain hungry and unsatisfied." ([U01],265).

Is gnosis a third type of goal? It certainly isn't a common goal. It is an afterlife goal? In a sense it is, since union with God, once achieved, continues after this life. But, as Nicholson writes,
. . . the whole purpose of Sufism . . . is . . . a recovery of the original unity with The One, while still in this body. ([N11],16).

Thus, gnosis is not an afterlife goal; it's a goal which can be achieved in the here and now. It is, in fact, the fourth state of consciousness open to us in this life, where the others are the awake, dreaming, and dreamless sleep states. Therefore, gnosis is a third kind of goal, a beyond-the-show-world or transcendental goal. Of all the goals available to us, gnosis is the highest.
To surmount maya was the task assigned to the human race by the millennial prophets. To rise above the duality of creation and perceive the unity of the Creator was conceived of as man's highest goal. ([Y02],311).

Gnosis - and perhaps only gnosis - fulfills religion's promise. For it grants: salvation, since we are saved from Maya's illusion; awakening, since we awaken from the dream world of Maya; enlightenment, since the world we perceive is filled with Light; Selfrealization since we realize our true Self; and liberation, since it liberates us from yang and yin. Liberation from Maya's drama gives transcendence, the "peace which surpasses all understanding" of Christian scriptures. Entirely and Partially Transcendent Goals Gnosis is a purely transcendental goal when it's motivated by a pure 54

desire for the Eternal, a desire to know God simply for the sake of knowing God, with no other motive. Both motive and goal are grounded beyond the show world. So a desire to know and unite with the Center born of a pure love for the Ground which is our basis, the Eternal which is our Father, the Source which is our Mother, is an entirely transcendental goal. The Uncreated Light is loved for Itself, with no ulterior motive. But pure love of That which we do not yet know and have not yet experienced is difficult. Therefore, the goal of gnosis, although ultimately leading beyond this world, is often grounded in it. How can gnosis, something which is beyond the world of appearance, the world of maya, be grounded in it? By being a secondary goal, or even an unanticipated by-product of some other goal. There are religious goals, afterlife goals, and even worldly goals which lead to gnosis, some quickly, some slowly, some inescapably, and some only occasionally. A few such goals are: escape from the transitory, from duality, from suffering, or from desire; realization of Self; immortality; spiritual rebirth; universal love; and following God's will by emulating and obeying a religious saint or Incarnation. All these seemingly distinct goals may lead to gnosis. Just as the distinct goals of political power, prestige, social status, fame, or high salary might all lead someone to seek their country's presidency, apparently different goals lead to the same end, gnosis. Let's examine some of these goals. Desire for Unchanging Reality Achieving gnosis means transcending duality.

Until duality is transcended and at-one-ment realized, Enlightenment cannot be attained. ([T06],206).

Knowing the One implies recovering unitary vision. So, someone with a pure love of the Unchanging might wish to transcend duality because it's an obstacle.
If you dare call Him "Father" and live this in reality You must become a newborn child and overcome duality. ([B05],139).

In this case, both goal and motivation are still transcendental; escaping duality is a means, not an end. Sometimes, however, the desire is not so much to gain the Eternal as to be rid of duality, with its pain and imperfections, its fleeing entities with only relative existence. Like shifting sands and ocean waves, everything around us changes. It's transitory; it passes away. Moreover, the entities possessing relative existence which compose our world lack a real identity. Their very existence is dependent,

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precarious, and temporary. In fact, they don't exist at all below the level of their components. Lay not up your treasures where rust corrupts and thieves steal, advised (Mt6:19) Jesus. Don't build your house on shifting sands, he (Mt7:24-7) said, but on rock. As someone lost too long in the desert will desperately seek an oasis, someone lost too long in Maya will seek the pure Light of the Real. As someone lost at sea desperately reaches out for a boat, or a piece of wood, someone afloat in a world of fleeting, changing entities will reach out for the Eternal. When escaping duality, when escaping an endless round of existence which is less than perfectly fulfilling, is the main goal then the goal is grounded in this world and is, therefore, less than purely transcendental. Nonetheless, since escape from duality necessarily implies perception of the One, such a goal will inescapably lead to gnosis. Escape from Suffering Often, however, the goal is escape not from both yang and yin, but merely from yin, from the disagreeable, from suffering. People are usually quite willing to be rid of the painful, the disagreeable, the annoying. Giving up the pleasurable, the agreeable, the pleasing, is quite another matter. But yang and yin are inseparable and their perception - dualistic perception - is the root cause of suffering.
The conception of duality is the root of all suffering; its only cure is the perception of the unreality of all objects and the realisation of myself as One, pure Intelligence and Bliss. (II,16,[A10],8).

We ignore the One and, as a direct consequence, live in the world of duality, a world where suffering is inevitable. People who pursue the goal of escape from the yin aspects of existence, from suffering, pain, and distress, may someday realize yang and yin, pleasure and pain, are inseparable. At this point, no doubt, some will abandon their quest. Others, however, will decide to escape from yin and yang. Therefore, the goal of ending suffering, of escape from yin, may lead to gnosis. If pursued far enough, sooner or later it may lead to a turning away from duality, which in turn will lead to gnosis. Therefore, even though the goals of escape from yin and yang, or from yin alone, are this-world goals, they can lead to gnosis.

Escape from Desire But the world we live in is composed of yang and yin; can they be evaded? No, not until we perceive the Eternal. Only when we reach

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the One do we leave the "two" behind. But the desire for, the regard of, and the attachment to them can cease. They remain; but we lose our concern with them. Our concern is with the Eternal. The Bhagavad-Gita describes a person who has achieved such desirelessness as close to gnosis.
He neither longs for one thing Nor loathes its opposite; The chains of his delusion Are soon cast off. ([S18],56-7).

Therefore, someone who wishes to experience the Real, or even someone who only wishes to escape yin and yang, may come to see escape from desire as a means. And even someone who wishes only to escape suffering may eventually wish to escape desire, too. In fact, this is what happened to Buddha. In a very sheltered childhood, Buddha knew little of pain and suffering. One day, however, he realized how painful life could be. Specifically, he realized sickness comes to many, old age comes to those who don't die young, and death comes to all. Driven by his vision of a world full of pain and suffering, he set out in search of a solution. How to escape life's pain? was his question. By giving up desire, was his answer. But how to give up desire? One way is realizing the dual nature of entities, seeing that yang and yin are inseparable, that in the long run nothing is more or less desirable than another. Another way is the practice of asceticism, which we'll discuss later. Still another is the dangerous path of Tantra, which we'll also discuss. Of course, the lack of unitary awareness is the root cause of desire.
Desire returns as soon as we ignore the divine essence at our core. ([B05],105).

So perhaps the only way to genuinely extinguish desire is to achieve gnosis. In any case, vision of the One often does leave someone desireless; it often gives them
. . . a general condition of indifference, liberty, and peace, and elevation above the world, a sense of beatitude. (Delacroix, Etudes sur le Mysticisme, p.370 in [U01],330).

Unitary awareness removes us from the world of yang and yin, pleasures and pains, desire and aversion. And even a brief experience of gnosis may leave in the mystic's heart the same "Certitude. Certitude. Feeling. Joy. Peace." whose memory Pascal cherished. Not surprisingly, someone filled with such certitude, peace, love and joy may have no desires.

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Realization of Self Sometimes, an aspirant, especially one who's introverted, isn't motivated by the transitoriness or imperfection of the exterior world, since they aren't very concerned with the external world in the first place. Rather, they're concerned with themselves. They look inside and ask: Where did I come from? Where am I going? Where is my enduring identity? Who or what am I? Who am I? This question, the basis of "the question of personal identity," is also the basis of the spiritual method (refer [S19],3-14) of the Hindu sage, Ramana Maharshi, who recommended the aspirant always keep it in mind. Why? Because full realization of our true Self, the Eternal, leads to gnosis - in fact, is gnosis.
In those who have cognised the Self, illusion is dispelled, and the light of pure consciousness shines through them; their distress is at an end and they live in bliss. (XVIII,6,[A10],40).

How is someone to discover who they are? Through gnosis, in the long run. There is, however, a preliminary step. Someone who has realized who they are has gained some knowledge. Let's call this positive knowledge. And someone who realizes they don't know who they are has zero knowledge. Can a person have less than zero knowledge? Yes! They can have "negative" knowledge; they can think they know something when in fact they do not. If I realize I don't know which country Paris is in, I can go to a dictionary or encyclopaedia and find out. But if I think Paris is in Italy, I may never discover its true location. Negative knowledge can be more of a hindrance to knowledge than plain ignorance. The story of Socrates illustrates this. The oracle at Delphi declared Socrates the wisest of men. "How can this be?" thought Socrates. "I know nothing. Yet the oracle cannot lie." Socrates eventually realized he was wise because he knew the extent of his ignorance. Everyone else he met thought they knew or understood things they in fact did not. So the first step in discovering our real, enduring self is realizing that what we think of as our self - our body, our emotional or intellectual centers, our changing personality - is not really us. Moreover, it seems identification with Self and identification with self, the ego, are mutually exclusive. As the Sufi Nifari wrote:
When thou regardest thyself as existent and dost not regard Me as the Cause of thy existence, I veil My face and thine own face appears to thee. ([N11],85).

A commentary explains:

If a man regards himself as existing through God, that which is of God in him predominates over the phenomenal element and makes it pass away, so that he sees nothing but God. If, on the contrary, he

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regards himself as having an independent existence, his unreal egoism is displayed to him and the reality of God becomes hidden from him. ([N11],85-6).

If identification with Self and identification with self are indeed mutually exclusive, then identification with Self must bring a kind of "death" to the self. A person who identifies more and more with Self must identify less and less with self. In a sense they "die" to ego, to self.
Those only who do not believe, call me Gotama, but you call me the Buddha . . . And this is right, for I have in this life entered Nirvana, while the life of Gotama has been extinguished. ([C04],160).

How complete and actual is "dying to self"? Some Sufis believe the death is to the self, not of the self.
When they say, "Die before ye die," . . .[they] do not mean to assert that the lower self can be essentially destroyed, but that it can and should be purged . . . ([N11],41).

Other mystics teach an absorption in God so total that their individual self is obliterated. The Art of Dying Identification with Self leads to detachment from self. Some mystics teach the inverse relations holds too - that dying to self leads to awareness of Self. For instance, the Sufi Jalaluddin Rumi wrote:
Become pure from all attributes of self, That you may see your own bright essence ([N11],70).

And Nicholson writes:

. . . in realising the non-entity of his individual self the Sufi realises his essential oneness with God . . . ([N11],155).

In fact, he claims:

The whole of Sufism rests on the belief that when the individual self is lost, the Universal Self is found[,] . . . [T]hat ecstasy affords the only means by which the soul can directly communicate and become united with God. Asceticism, purification, love, gnosis, saintship - all the leading ideas of Sufism - are developed from this cardinal principle. ([N11],59).

Dying to self, by the way, may be the object of religious practices such as humility and obedience. Sometimes, lessened identification with self is seen as a kind of death. The Quaker John Woolman seems to have experienced gnosis in this way. Woolman's journal records a dream where he heard an angel-like voice say "John Woolman is dead." Interestingly, a question of personal identity seems to have provoked his experience.
In time of sickness . . . I was brought so near the gates of death that I forgot my name. Being then desirous to

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know who I was, I saw a mass . . . of human beings . . . I was mixed with them, and . . . henceforth I might not consider myself as a distinct or separate being. ([F01],59-60).

It was then he heard the voice. Later, he realized

"John Woolman is dead," meant no more than the death of my own will. ([F01],61).

A Quaker publication suggests:

He . . . realized that the dream had shown him the death of his individual will and his submergence into the divine unity. ([P08],28).

Woolman lost his identification with his ego when he ceased to consider himself "a distinct and separate being." He felt he'd died. Yet he still lived - not as a separate ego but submerged in "the divine unity." Thomas Kelly is another Quaker who may have had a similar experience. He wrote:
It is an overwhelming experience to fall into the hands of the living God, to be invaded to the depths of one's being by His presence, to be, without warning, wholly uprooted from all earth-born securities and assurances, and to be blown by a tempest of unbelievable power which leaves one's old proud self utterly, utterly defenseless . . . [A]s Moses knew, no man can look on God and live - live as his old self. Death comes, blessed death, death of one's alienating will. ([F01],64-5).

And the Quaker George Fox noted that a certain part of the self seems incompatible with consciousness of Eternal Light, and must die if consciousness of the Light is to live.
. . . [T]here did a pure fire appear in me . . . (ch.1,[J05],14)

wrote Fox. He then described the parts of the self which were in conflict with that Fire.
And that which could not . . . endure the fire . . . I found to be the groans of the flesh (that could not give up to the will of God) . . . and could not give up self to die by the Cross, . . . that which would cloud and veil from the presence of Christ, that which the sword of the spirit cuts down and which must die . . . (ch.1,[J05],14-15).

Immortality Those who have died to their self have mastered the "Art of Dying" to self. They've undergone a death which renders them immortal, for they have nothing to fear from the death of the physical body or of the relative selves.

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I do not face my end in fear for, knowing death must come, I let my Me die long ago and watched desire disappear. ([B05],122).

Thus a person, rather than seeking some form of immortality for their relative selves, can realize a form of immortality by transcending their own ego and identifying with their true Self, their Ultimate Ground of Existence, which already is immortal.
His life is everlasting: whoever sees it is thereby made everlasting. ([N11],7).

The idea of transcendence of the finite, contingent selves, of the ego, is found in a short story by Jorge Luis Borges, an imaginative Argentinean writer. His story The God Script tells of an Aztec priest, Tzinacan, long imprisoned by the Spaniards. One day, Tzinacan experiences
. . . union with the divinity, with the universe . . . God has been seen in a blazing light . . . ([B11],172).

Now, Tzinacan believes he can shatter his stone prison, destroy the captors who tortured him, evict all Spaniards from Mexico, rebuild the sacred pyramid, and rule the entire land. Yet he knows he never shall, for he no longer identifies with Tzinacan.
Whoever has seen the universe . . . cannot think in terms of one man, of that man's trivial fortunes or misfortunes, though he be that very man. ([B11],173).

Many religions have the idea that ego transcendence gives a kind of immortality and deathlessness. Swami Paramananda, for example, wrote
When we thus realize Him as the underlying Reality of our being, we transcend death and become immortal. ([U03],116),

while a Buddhist monk writes

. . . the truth of nonselfhood or emptiness, makes a man immortal because it makes him free of the 'self' idea. When there is no self, how can there be death? ([B13],17).

Ego transcendence, by the way, can occur in meditative states. The Taoist philosopher Ch'i, for instance,
. . . looked strangely dazed and inert, as though only part of him were there at all. "What was happening to you?" asked his disciple . . . [S]aid Ch'i; "when you saw me just now my 'I' had lost its 'me'." ([W01],116).

We've been using "ego" to indicate our self image. It's also sometimes used in a wider sense to refer to our body, heart, and thinking centers, to all but our Self. Therefore, gnosis may be described as separating the Self from the self, the relative selves, the ego. Ch'i achieved this state when his "I" lost its "me." Yet, our ego exists in the external world - at least, in other people's external world. Therefore, separation of Self from ego may 61

also be described as separation of Self from world. And since the emotions are sometimes considered a function of the heart, and thoughts a function of the brain - both bodily organs - gnosis is sometimes pictured as separation of "I" from body. According to Plato, Socrates thought that separating "I" from body was the true aim of philosophy. Calling the process "purification" Socrates said
. . . purification is nothing but the separation of the soul from the body, . . . the habit of the soul gathering and collecting herself into herself from all sides out of the body; the dwelling in her own place alone . . . (Phaedo 67C, [D07],VI,418).

He thought

. . . the true philosophers . . . are always occupied in the practice of dying . . . (Phaedo 67C, [D07],VI,418).

Physical death separates Consciousness from physical sensations and, perhaps, emotional and intellectual sensations, for a time. The "practice of dying" of Socrates was, I believe, a meditative exercised which also temporarily separated Consciousness from physical sensations and, perhaps, emotional and intellectual sensations. Some people, it seems, are born with a Consciousness detached from the physical, emotional, and intellectual facilities. For example, a Hindu saint said
My consciousness has never associated itself with this temporary body. Before I came on this earth . . . 'I was the same'. As a little girl, 'I was the same.' I grew into womanhood; still 'I was the same.' When . . . this body married, 'I was the same.' And . . . now, 'I am the same.' Ever afterward, though the dance of creation change around me in the hall of eternity, 'I shall be the same.' ([Y02],524).

The New Birth Since some form of the individual still exists, dying to self may be experienced in a positive manner, as the birth of a new self. Thus, the art of dying, paradoxically, brings Life. As St. Symeon the New Theologian wrote:
A man who has attained the final degree of perfection is dead and yet not dead, but infinitely more alive in God with Whom he lives for he no longer lives by himself. ([W11],132).

And Meister Eckhart described his death to the temporal, finite ego as an "eternal birth."
To this end I was born, and by virtue of my birth being eternal, I shall never die. It is of the nature of this eternal birth that I have been eternally, that I am now, and shall be forever. What I am as a temporal creature is to die and come to nothingness, for it came with

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time and so with time it will pass away. ([M11],231).

Moreover, Rufus Jones wrote Eckhart teaches

. . . by a Divine birth the soul may rise to a mystical insight, which is above knowledge and which is union an experience beyond subject-object. So only does the soul escape from the show-and-shadow world. He only can arrive at reality who can rise to the Everpresent Now in which all things are together. ([J03],232).

Rebirth imagery is common in mystical writings, as well as religious literature in general. Rebirth may refer, as it does here, to the final union with the Eternal, the last step of the path. Or it may symbolize the initial awakening, the first step on the path. Eckhart's eternal birth is, of course, to be understood in the second sense. These words of Angelus Silesius, however, might apply to either birth:
Were Christ a thousand times reborn in Bethlehem's stall and not in thee, thou still art lost beyond recall. ([S13],20).

Universal Love The ancient Greek language distinguished ([M07],975-6) four different types of love: epithemia, eros, philia, and agape. In contrast, English uses the single word "love" for essentially different things. Writes Huxley:
. . . love, unfortunately, stands for everything from what happens when, on the screen, two close-ups rapturously collide to . . . when a John Woolman or a Peter Claver feels a concern about Negro slaves, because they are temples of the Holy Spirit - from . . . when crowds shout and sing and wave flags . . . to . . . when a solitary contemplative becomes absorbed in the prayer of simple regard. ([H11],83).

Let's examine a few types of love. First, there is the "love" of objects which please us, which give us pleasure. A child loves chocolate ice cream, a man loves to watch sports, a woman loves a dress. In this love, the thing is loved not for its own sake, but only for the pleasure it brings. Should the dress become torn or soiled, it's discarded. Second, there's affection between people, the love found in friendship. This love also depends on pleasure; people usually become friends because they enjoy each other's company or have common interest. Yet it doesn't depend entirely on pleasure; sometimes friends argue and cause each other pain but remain friends nevertheless. Third, there's the love between parent and child, or between very close friends. This love depends even less on pleasure. It's more selfsacrificing 63

and can withstand much trial. A parent may care for a disabled or mental-disturbed child for years. A son or daughter may tend an elderly, senile parent who doesn't even recognize them. In this love, someone may care more for the welfare of the other than for their own comfort or welfare. In an extreme case, they may even give their life for the sake of the other. Erotic love can have elements of all three kinds of love. When it's mostly the first kind of love, the kind based solely on pleasure, it's more lust than love. In fact, many people wouldn't call it love at all. For them, erotic "love" needs an element of friendship, at least, to be genuine love. Of course, erotic love may go beyond friendship and reach the closeness of the third type of love. The lower forms of love are based on pleasure derived from the object or person. The higher forms of love are not, but are still based on the other person. That is, the other person is loved because of who they are. All people in general aren't loved equally, regardless of their characteristics. Universal love is love which is independent of not only pleasure but person, too. It's love which shines like the sun, on everyone, universally, depending upon nothing. It's disinterested, not in that there's no interest in the other person but in that nothing the other person is or does will diminish it. Huxley calls ([H11],81) disinterested love charity and writes:
. . . "charity" has come, in modern English, to be synonymous with "almsgiving," and is almost never used in its original sense, as signifying the highest and most divine form of love. . . . [C]harity is disinterested, seeking no reward, nor allowing itself to be diminished by any return of evil . . . [S]ince charity is disinterested, it must of necessity be universal. ([H11],82-3).

The founder of a medieval religious order advocated such love when she recommended
[t]he sisters should not have particular friendships but should include all in their love for one another . . . ([B04],131).

How can someone develop charity, that is, universal, disinterested love? One method is to
. . . take the whole universe as the expression of the one Self. Then only our love flows to all beings and creatures in the world equally. ([P12],610).

That is, if we love the Eternal and if we see all persons as Its manifestations, then we'll naturally love all people; we'll love them for the Root which is their basis. How can we develop love of the eternal? By directly experiencing It, by gnosis. As Nicholson writes:
Gnosis and love are spiritually identical; they teach the same truths in different language. ([N11],101).

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Following a Spiritual Teacher Many people who have none of the preceding goals wish to live according to God's will. Often they try to obey the teachings and emulate the life of some religious founder or saint. This goal can lead to gnosis. For example, Gotama's direct experience of the "Unborn, Unoriginated, Uncreated, Unformed" was what made him a Buddha.
Realization of . . . the Voidness, the Unbecome, the Unborn, the Unmade, the Unformed, implies Buddhahood, Perfect Enlightenment . . . ([T05],97).

Therefore, out of a desire to follow Buddha, a Buddhist might aspire to realization of the Eternal. Similarly, Jesus spoke of the "Kingdom of Heaven," and the "Pearl of Great Price," the possession of which was worth every earthy thing. These, I believe, were references to gnosis. Moreover, unitive gnosis, by uniting a mystic with the Perfect, allows them to fulfill the command of Jesus:
Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect. (Mt 5:48,[H08],996).

Spiritual teachers, however, often speak of God in personal terms; Jesus, for example, spoke of the Father. We may wonder if emulating or following the teachings of someone who taught or revealed a God who is a Person leads to gnosis. We've seen Gods who are Persons are like blocks of ice in the infinite, eternal ocean of the Ultimate Ground of Existence, and moreover that only unitive knowledge of the Absolute in Its pure form is ultimate knowledge. Therefore, we might suppose following the teachings of Christ, Krishna, Mohammed, or some other spiritual teacher would eventually bring one to experience and knowledge of God. At first such experience and knowledge might be only of some God who is a Person. But since the Real underlies such a God, deep and intimate experience and knowledge of that God might naturally lead to the ultimate knowledge of Godhead, to That which manifests in the forms of Gods who are Persons. Therefore, the goal of practicing the teachings of some spiritual teacher, even if they teach a God who is a Person, may ultimately lead to gnosis. Summary We've examined various goals in this chapter, with emphasis on the goal of gnosis and various other goals which lead to it. The next chapter discusses various principles and values, ethics and morals which someone might adopt who has the goal of gnosis.

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12
- Values Chapter Summary: This chapter discusses various value and moral systems, with emphasis on systems appropriate to someone who desires gnosis. Various spiritual goals and motivations are also discussed. Values and morals govern much of our conduct - what we do and what we refrain from doing. How does someone who has the goal of gnosis conduct their life? What do they value? What do they avoid? This chapter discusses some of the values and morals, some the attitudes and actions, which seekers of gnosis often embrace - that is, it discusses some mystical value systems. It's not intended as a handbook for mystical life, however. Anyone seriously interested in such a life should refer to their own religious tradition, or to a few of the many recognized mystical texts in the bibliography. We'll discuss value systems which contain only common goals, then systems which contain afterlife goals as well. Finally we'll discuss mystical value systems. Common Value Systems Some value systems contain only common goals. The people who follow such systems have no afterlife or mystical goals. Their hopes and aspirations are entirely for the things of this life, for physical, emotional, and intellectual satisfactions. Of the people with common value systems some are naturally charitable, humble, forgiving, or chaste. They're kind and considerate, not for the sake of any ulterior goal, but simply because they feel that's how one ought to act. As we'll see, such people are unknowingly progressing toward gnosis. Others who follow common value systems are ruthless. Being kind, charitable, etc., isn't part of their value system, and they consider people who are to be sentimental and foolish. For those who are ruthlessly pursuing one or a few common goals morality is simple: do whatever is necessary to win. Their morality is much like the one described by Niccolo Machiavelli, medieval author of The Prince. The Prince is a classic manual of values - of "morals," if you will - for someone interested in the single-minded, utterly unscrupulous pursuit and welding of political power. Machiavelli recommends such a person not limit themselves by morals.
For there is such a difference between the way men live and the way they ought to live, that . . . anyone who determines to act in all circumstances the part of a good man must come to ruin among so many who are not good. Hence . . . he must learn how to be not good, and to use that ability or not as is required.

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([M01],141).

For example, says Machiavelli, it's not necessary to keep one's word.
A prudent ruler . . . cannot and should not observe faith when such observance is to his disadvantage and the causes that made him give his promise have vanished. ([M01],148).

And while it's best if a ruler can win the love and fear of others, if only one can be won then fear is the better choice.
. . . [S]ince men love as they please and fear as the prince pleases, a wise prince will evidently rely on what is in his own power and not on what is in the power of another. ([M01],147).

Machiavelli doesn't regard virtues as completely useless, however. Their appearance, at least, does have its uses.
It is not necessary . . . for a prince really to have all the virtues . . . but it is very necessary to seem to have them. ([M01],149).

Machiavelli's recommendations make sense if a single common goal - in his case, political power - is all someone desires. If acting morally isn't a goal itself and if no other goal demands moral action, then there is no reason to be moral. But what single goal is worthy of ruthless pursuit? Is any goal so valuable that for its sake all other considerations - morals, consideration for others, common decency - may be ignored? Fables such as the tale of King Midas dramatize the risk of achieving a poorly chosen goal. There seems to be a real danger in "putting all one's eggs in one basket," in pursuing any single goal, no matter how well chosen. Moreover, an unprincipled pursuit usually earns enemies. So even if one's own conscience permits enjoyment of a goal unscrupulously obtained, one's enemies may not. Is there any single goal worth ruthless pursuit and not liable to be lost to others? Probably not. Perhaps for these reasons, perhaps for others, most people have many goals. First of course is surviving, fitting in with others, "getting by." A common strategy is accepting the reigning ideology. If one lives in a communist country, then one is communist. If one lives in a capitalist country, one is a capitalist. If one lives in a fascist country, even perhaps a Nazi-like country bent on genocide of a certain subgroup, then one is a good fascist and, if necessary, participates in genocide. (I don't mean to condone or recommend this strategy. I merely want to acknowledge its existence and widespread use.) After survival comes enjoyment, the acquisition of desirable people such as a loving spouse, children, and congenial friends; of desirable things such as possessions and wealth; and of intangibles such as fame and creative or intellectual accomplishment, respect and power. People famous and unknown have devoted their entire lives to 67

the pursuit and enjoyment of such things. Some of the famous evidently found them unfulfilling, as their frustrated lives or even suicides demonstrate. Others, no doubt, were well satisfied with their achievements - for a time. But even if that time reached to the end of their life, death sooner or later separated them and their possessions. For death awaits all, regardless of how much or little they've won here. Therefore, many people have afterlife goals as well as common ones. Afterlife Value Systems Afterlife value systems include a goal beyond common goals and beyond the present life. Paradise and another life here, that is, heaven or a favorable incarnation are afterlife goals. Many people have some form of afterlife value system. Since our time here is limited, it's not surprising that there's widespread concern for what happens afterwards. Understandably, many people are willing to devote some small part of their time and effort to the next world. Conveniently, some religions promise heaven or a favorable incarnation in return for a minimal investment of time and money. An hour or two a week, a small donation, observance of moral and ritualistic rules which usually aren't too taxing, and one is right with God, yet available for the somewhat moderated enjoyment of this world. Some of the rules and values which allegedly lead to heaven or a better incarnation seem natural: charity, love of neighbor, honesty. Others seem quite arbitrary. For example, there is a great diversity in religious rites and observances. In particular, rules about food vary widely. For example, ham is allowed in some religions, but forbidden in others. Beef is allowed in some religions, forbidden in others, and allowed in others only if slaughtered in the ritually correct way. Some religions allow, even demand, the use of alcohol; others strictly forbid its use. Liturgies also differ. Some are somber and austere. Others, performed with candles and incense in dark churches, seem close to magic.
. . . [I]nvocative arrangements of the Names of God . . . Sacred numbers, ritual actions, perfumes, purifications, words of power, are all used . . . by institutional religion in her work of opening up the human mind to the messages of the suprasensible world. In certain minor observances, and charm-like prayers, we seem to stand on the very borderland between magician and priest. ([U01],163-4).

The Bottom-up Approach to Morals How are religious values - rules, rituals, and morals - determined? What are they based on? Religions often derive their morals and rules of conduct in a bottom-up manner. In a bottom-up approach to morals 68

we begin with the practical rules of conduct called morals and then figure out the implied ethics, values and world view. We start with morals and derive the rest. But where do the morals come from in the first place? Usually, from some God who is a Person. Bottom-up approaches are common to systems where morals are simply the will the commands - of some God who is a Person, or the dictates of some impersonal entity such as Reason or Natural Law. To act in accordance with God's (or Nature's) will is to act morally. To act otherwise offends God, and therefore is immoral and sinful. Knowing what is moral and what is not - i.e., knowing God's will - isn't a problem since there are scriptures and established churches to make it known. One problem which does arise, however, is the following: is God free to will anything at all into rightness or wrongness? or are there standards of right and wrong even God must respect? In other words, is something wrong simply because God happens to forbid it? or does God forbid it because it's already wrong, harmful or evil? Suppose we choose the first alternative and define "good" as whatever God wills. Then saying "God is always good" is merely a tautology - it's true by definition, just as if we define "dozen" to mean twelve, and then say "a dozen always had twelve things." It's true, but has little significance. It's just a kind of game with words. Moreover, if whatever God wills is good, then war, murder, sadism, torture, and rape are good when God wills them. You may feel that God never actually does will war, murder, sadism, torture, and rape. The millions throughout history who have fought holy wars, burnt heretics, and conducted inquisitions, however, would disagree. Some of them sincerely believed they were doing God's will. Didn't the invading armies of Europe's "holy" crusades and the religious leaders who organized it shout "God wills it"? On the other hand suppose we choose the second alternative and decide there are certain standards of right and wrong which even God must respect. Then God can will only what is already inherently good. In this case, God seems the discoverer of good rather than its creator. How can such a God be omnipotent? So is anything God wills good, or can God only will what's already good? It's a dilemma that's more theoretical than practical since regardless of the answer, right and wrong are forever etched into sacred scriptures in a bottom-up moral system. All a believer need do is follow them, with no explanation or justification needed or given. For example, in Exodus Yahweh commands (Ex 20:1-17) the Israelites to obey the Ten Commandments. They are to blindly follow what Yahweh commands because Yahweh commands it. With no explanation. Another question which arises in a bottom-up moral system is the following: if moral principles really are the dictates of some universal 69

God (or Reason or Natural Law) then they should be universal too. But cultures have different, sometimes vastly different, morals. The following retells a story found in the History of Herodotus.
Darius . . . found . . . the Callatians . . . customarily ate the bodies of their dead fathers. . . . [T]he Greeks practiced cremation . . . One day . . . he summoned some Greeks . . . and asked them what they would take to eat the bodies of their dead fathers. They were shocked . . . and replied that no amount of money could persuade them to do such a thing. Then Darius called in some Callatians, and . . . asked them what they would take to burn their dead fathers' bodies. They Callatians were horrified and told Darius not even to mention such a dreadful thing. ([S02],12).

Why do moral codes differ? An unassuming solution is that all moral codes are imperfect and still struggling toward the one, objective, true moral code. A more common answer says that one's own existing moral code perfectly embodies the true, objective, universal moral code, and all other moral codes are wrong. Another solution is that there is no single perfect moral code. What one calls sin, another may call virtue. If so, then morals are subjective, either to individual persons or to whole societies. Things are good or evil according to society's or the individual's taste. There are obvious problems with this approach. Many people feel the murder of innocents, the genocide of entire ethnic groups, sadism, etc., are objectively and universally wrong, not merely not to "taste." The Value of Religious Practices What's the value of religious practices? of morals? of food taboos? of rites and rituals? The religious see them as part of the optimum way to live. They believe the practices are valuable because God wants us to follow them and because a reward in the afterlife follows. Skeptics on the other hand often view religious practices as mere superstition and ignorance. Or if they take a more charitable view, they admit the practices reinforce one's sense of belonging to a community, and give the believer peace of mind and the assurance they're right with God. But many people, religious or skeptic, agree that religious values such as love, humility, charity, honesty, concern and respect for others, contribute to social harmony. In fact, many people - especially if they don't believe in any sort of existence beyond death - see teaching the community's commonly-held values as religion's main purpose. But as we'll see, some religious practices have a value beyond social harmony and integration: they can lead to gnosis. And that perhaps is their most important function, as well as religion's. Yet while religion can be a path to gnosis, it doesn't seem to go all 70

the way: it can't actually give the experience of the Ultimate Ground of Existence. Religion can't
. . . extract finality from a method which does not really seek after ultimate things. This method may and does teach men goodness, gives them happiness and health. It can even induce in them a certain exaltation in which they become aware, at any rate for a moment, of the existence of the supernatural world - a stupendous accomplishment. But it will not of itself make them citizens of that world: give to them the freedom of Reality. "The work of the Church in the world," says Patmore, "is not to teach the mysteries of life, so much as to persuade the soul to that arduous degree of purity at which God Himself becomes her teacher. The work of the Church ends when the knowledge of God begins." ([U01],164).

Religion can make us aware of the existence of the door, show us its location, and encourage us to knock. The knocking, however, is up to us. Once we decide to knock for ourselves, our value system includes a mystical goal: we have a mystical value system. Mystical Value Systems Mystical value systems are value systems which include the goal of direct experience of and, perhaps, union with God. In some, God is a Person who has left explicit instructions for how to achieve gnosis. In such a system, morality is based on the will of that God. What about systems where God isn't a Person? What basis can be given for morality in such a system, especially if good and evil are said to be ultimately illusions? Of course, a moral code could be offered with no basis or theoretical justification, as a collection of rules which in some undefined sense "should" be followed. It could be presented as something which has been found over time to promote a pleasant, harmonious life. In art, crafts, and manufacturing there are "rules of thumb," rules which have no theoretical basis but nonetheless are widely followed. Such rules, like rules handed down from on high, aren't intellectually satisfying. To be a science rather than an art, a scientific religion would require a theoretical foundation for its moral code. We'll base our mystical value system's values and morality on the idea of helps and hindrances. Helps and Hindrances

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"Norma", a 15 year-old high school girl, has a goal: she wants to be an Olympics ice skater. Norma skates at least an hour every morning before school, and feels missing a practice is a kind of "sin." The word "sin" comes from words which signify ([P01],148-9) falling short or missing the target, and for Norma missing a practice falls short of her ideal of daily practice. Of course, missing an hour's skating isn't a moral failing; so "hindrance" would be a better word than "sin." Conversely, skating each morning isn't a moral virtue, but it is a "help" toward the goal of Olympics participation. Similarly, certain thoughts and acts help our journey to gnosis; others delay it. Therefore, a value may be placed on thoughts and acts depending on whether they aid or impede our journey towards knowledge of or union with the Eternal. That is, we can construct a moral system based not on the supposed commands of some God who is a Person, but on whether the act, action, or thought in question has proven in general a help or hindrance to gnosis. The Vedantist sage's Shankara derived morals in a similar way. Shankara taught that all acts belong to the realm of Maya. Yet he divided them into those which bring us closer to seeing the One (which we are calling helps), and those that re-enforce Maya's illusion (hindrances). He called these two kinds of maya
. . . avidya . . . and vidya . . . . Avidya is that which causes us to move away from the real Self, or Brahman, drawing a veil before our sight of Truth; vidya is that which enables us to move towards Brahman by removing the veil of ignorance. ([V01],111).

Helps and hindrances to gnosis (or any other goal) still exist, even when there's no objective God who is a Person whose will defines virtue and sin. They exist independent of any God who is a Person. Something is a help or hindrance not because of some Divine command, but rather because of the very nature of the universe. When we exercise, the result is written into our body in the form of stronger muscles, increased flexibility, or more efficient cardiovascular function. When we fail to exercise, the result is also written into our body in the form of weaker muscles, decreased flexibility, or less efficient cardiovascular function. Our body is a living record of our past physical activity. Even though Norma's actions, either practicing or not, aren't recorded in some heavenly book by a god who gives or withholds Olympics success, her actions nonetheless leave their record in her body and her level of skill. Norma carries with her the consequences of her past actions. In a similar way, our character and state of consciousness results from - is a living record of - our past thoughts, emotions and actions. And as we'll see, our character and state of consciousness is a measure

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of our progress towards gnosis. Reward and Punishment In the biblical system of good and evil, Yahweh directly distributes rewards and punishments. He punishes disobedience, eventually, and rewards virtue, sooner or later. Does the system of helps and hindrances still have rewards and punishments? In one sense, yes; in another, no. Since all entities, including our thoughts and acts, have equal yin and yang, each is equally rewarded and punished. Getting out of a warm bed early on a dark winter morning to practice is punishing; the reward is increased skill. Staying in bed and resting is rewarding; the punishment is eroded skill. In this sense, therefore, it doesn't matter which course is taken since practicing or not practicing both have their own rewards and punishments, their own yang and yin aspects. On the other hand for a person with a direction and a goal, there are rewards and punishments. For Norma, increased ability is rewarding, and deteriorated ability is punishing. She chooses to see only the rewarding aspect of practice, and dismisses the punishing aspect as simply the price required for increased ability, as "paying
Values 309

dues." Similarly, she chooses to see only the punishing aspect of missing a practice. The dual aspects underlie why some good, virtuous actions are such a pain, while some sinful, forbidden actions are so much fun. (A quip I once heard: "Everything I like is either immoral, illegal, or fattening.") Some virtuous actions have their yin aspect "up front," and some sinful actions have their yang aspects in the forefront. Later, the yang aspect of virtuous actions becomes apparent, as does the yin aspect of sinful actions. Perhaps this phenomena underlies the Christian "As you sow, so you shall reap" principle and the similar Hindu "Law of Karma." Concerning Theoretical Explanations Before using the idea of helps and hindrances to derive our mystical value system - that is, before discussing a theoretical foundation for many of the acts, thoughts, and beliefs which mystics value - let's discuss a point about theoretical explanations. Our theoretical explanation for mystical practices and attitudes will explain why the practices and attitudes are helps in the quest to gnosis. It won't necessarily explain why mystics valued these practices. Some mystics may have adopted the practices and attitudes for entirely different reasons than our theory gives. There's an analogy in nutrition. Suppose a scientist finds a primitive society's most popular recipes are also the most nutritious. 73

The scientist would say the recipes are popular because they are nutritious. The local people, however, might know nothing of nutrition. They might believe the recipes are popular because of tradition, or because some god or seer commanded it. In Diet For A Small Planet Frances Lappe writes:
The proteins our bodies use are made up of 22 amino acids, in varying combinations. Eight of these amino acids cannot be synthesized by our bodies; they must be obtained from outside sources. ([L03],66),

that is, from food. Moreover, the eight essential amino acids must be present in the proper proportion for the body to use them. In other words, proteins are component entities, and their components (the amino acids) must have the proper relation to create a protein. Given a hundred b's, o's, and d's, but only ten y's, the word "body" can be made only ten times. The remaining ninety b's, o's, and d's are useless. Similarly, if one essential amino acid is deficient, the body can't use the others. Few foods all by themselves have the perfect balance of amino acids. Suppose beans have ninety b's and o's, but only ten d's and y's. And suppose wheat has only ten b's and o's, but ninety d's and y's. Then eating beans and wheat together will be much more nutritious than eating either alone, since their amino acids complement each other. So if a scientist finds that popular recipes tend to have ingredients with complementary amino acids, for example that bean and wheat dishes are popular, the scientist would say the recipes are popular because they are more nutritious. The local people might know nothing of amino acids and complimenting protein, and say they like the recipes for entirely different reasons. Similarly, mystics may have had many different reasons for adopting the practices and attitudes we'll discuss. They might have known little or nothing of the God which is not a Person, and little or nothing of the idea of the "end of drama." The End of Drama A familiar picture of the avid seeker of God is the contemplative hermit who lives devoid of almost all possessions, in a cave, the desert, or atop some lonely mountain. The stereotype is not entirely fanciful; in the past seekers have lived that way. Some do even today. Let's attempt to understand what might motivate someone to adopt such a life. For someone whose goal is vision of, and eventual union with, the One, with Isness, the habit of seeing "the many," dualistic seeing, is a hindrance. This habit in turn is a result of our attachment to Maya's drama, of our involvement with duality and consequent ignorance of

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the One. Watch a movie and try to continuously remember the images on the screen are nothing but light. If the movie is exceptionally boring, you may succeed. If, however, the movie has lots of attraction - lots of adventure, if that is what you like, or romance, if that's your preference - you'll become absorbed in the drama, forgetting that all you're seeing is light projected onto a screen. Even when the movie turns frightening or sad, you'll probably remain absorbed, feeling the appropriate fright or sadness. Only if the movie turns very disagreeable - frightening, sad, or boring beyond endurance - will the thought return "it's only a movie, it's only a play of light." So it is with us and the Eternal. When life is going well, when there are lots of interesting things occurring, it's a rare individual who seeks the Eternal, the Light behind the show. Even when life is going badly, many do not turn to the Reality behind the illusion. For what prevents turning to the Root is not whether life is pleasant or unpleasant, but how deeply the individual is absorbed in life's drama. Attachment to the show, the appearance, the illusion, - the world hinders our perception of the Reality standing behind it, the Eternal Substance. How might someone completely dedicated to the goal of vision of and eventual union with the One conduct the movie which is their life? One straightforward way is to reduce involvement with duality, the drama which diverts perception of the One to perception of the many. Reduction of drama may be accomplished by withdrawal from the world and society to a life of solitude and quiet. Of course, desires and passions wouldn't be satisfied in such a life, so they would have to be somehow transcended, even uprooted. Poverty would eliminate most of the things which absorb our attention; solitude would eliminate the people which absorb our attention. Obviously, solitude would also imply abstinence from sexual intercourse if not complete chastity. Emotions, thoughts, and fantasies are just as much a movie and drama as the exterior world. Someone completely dedicated to union with the One, therefore, might seek to control, still, and quiet them, too. Indeed,
[i]t is a common teaching of mystic writers that introversion is effected by a successive silencing of the faculties . . . till . . . the very being of the soul . . . comes into immediate relation with the Ultimate Reality which is God. ([B17],33).

Moreover, awareness must be freed from consciousness of the ego. Our body, emotions, and thoughts exist in the world of Maya. That is, our very own self, the ego, is a perishable entity with only relative existence. Our egos are waves on the Eternal ocean of existence, but are not themselves the ocean.

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Eventually, when Awareness has been freed from all that's relative, It becomes aware, not of any impermanent entity with only relative existence, but of Itself.
. . . the unitive state is the culmination of the simplifying process by which the soul is gradually isolated from all that is foreign to itself, from all that is not God. ([N11],149).

Thus, for the sake of perception of the Eternal in Its pure state an aspirant may practice detachment of Consciousness from the show world. They may reduce to a minimum their involvement in, and perception of, any and all created entities, even their own self. Such practices constitute an apparent rejection of creation, which is viewed negatively as a veil, a hindrance to vision of the One. Not surprisingly therefore this way to pure vision of the Source has been called the Negative Way. It will be helpful to investigate the practices of the Negative Way in more detail. Since withdrawal from society and created entities, the practice of silence and solitude, poverty and chastity, the control of emotions and the mind, all motivated by the desire for direct experience of the Root, constitute (surely, not coincidently) the main values of the strictest cloistered and hermetical monastic traditions, we'll turn to them for our illustrations. In the religions in which it exists, monasticism is often considered the most radical, demanding, and direct way to vision of and union with the Eternal. Monasticism has three forms: life within a monastic community (cenobitic), life with the companionship of a few others (cloistered), and the life of solitude (eremitical). Of course, monastic communities with a scholarly or humanitarian function can't always observe solitude and silence. But many monastic situations have these characteristics: detachment from the world and society, fasting and abstinence, poverty, the practice of solitude, silence, and continual prayer, the battle against passions and desires, the fight to control the heart and mind, indifference to created entities, all motivated by the search for vision of, and eventually conscious union with, the Real. Renunciation and Monastic Withdrawal An obvious step for reducing attachment to drama, and the first step in many monastic traditions, is reducing physical involvement with the external world to a minimum.
. . . [I]t was the universal conviction of the ancients . . . separation from the world constituted the climate . . . essential to the pursuit of monastic life. ([P09],193).

For example, The Ladder of Divine Ascent ([C09]), a famous Orthodox Christian work on the monastic life describing thirty stages of the soul's journey back to God, begins with withdrawal to a quiet place. Historically and stereotypically, monastics have withdrawn to a

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cave, mountain, desert, forest or cloistered monastic cell. The life of Julian of Norwich, who lived during the ([J06],22) "Golden Age of the English Recluse," offers a vivid illustration. Julian was an anchoress, a religious seeker who pursued the search for God almost entirely alone.
The anchorite's ideal was a renunciation of the world so complete that all thought of the world and its cares would be totally banished from his mind, leaving him free to fill his mind and heart with God alone. ([P09],386).

To become an anchoress, Julian first petitioned her bishop. Then, a Mass, probably a Mass of the Dead, was said for her.
In the Exeter rite the whole service strongly resembled an actual burial service . . . ([J07],xxxviii).

Next, Julian was led to the anchorhold, a enclosed suite of rooms about the size of an apartment, perhaps provided with an open air courtyard.
. . . [T]he In Paradisum was chanted as the postulant walked into the anchorhold, and the prayers for the commendation of a departed soul were said over the prostrate body of the newly-enclosed . . . The occupant of the anchorhold was now officially 'dead to the world'. ([J07],xxxviii).

Dead to the world but ([J06],23) "alive unto God." An anchoress didn't necessarily maintain absolute physical solitude, however; she might have a servant who purchased food, for example. Moreover, she could even have an occasional visitor. Nonetheless, each anchoress was considered sealed in their anchorhold for life.
Some ran away, of course; some went mad; the great majority were faithful unto physical death . . . What did they do? Fundamentally, they prayed . . . Julian cannot have been unique in the quality of the prayer life she lived: many another found that he was in fact alone with God, and was raised to great heights of prayer. ([J06],24)

Not all monastics are anchorites, of course. Many live retired from the world in the company of a few like-minded brethren. A famous example is Mount Athos, an Eastern Orthodox group of monastic communities. ([S12] describes Mount Athos in words and pictures.)
Hermit monks came to Mount Athos as early as the ninth century. The first monastery, Great Lavra, was founded by St. Athanasios in 963 . . . By 1400, 19 of the 20 monasteries active today had been completed. . . . Some 1,500 monks now inhabit the Holy Mountain. ([N01],740).

The monks live in Mount Athos's ancient monasteries; the hermits in its small huts and caves. 77

In the West, the Carmelites, Carthusians, and other orders still follow a strict monastic life. Originally hermetical, Carmelite life eventually became more communal. Then, Teresa of Avila, the ([C10],42) "greatest mystic of her day," founded a reform order, closer to the original ideal, and closer too to the life Julian led. Teresa
. . . insisted upon enclosure . . . and limited the opportunities for nuns to receive visitors . . . ([B04],132).

She also

. . . stressed voluntary poverty and the ascetic lifestyle it entailed . . . ([B04],131-2).

Like Julian, Carmelite nuns and the hermits of Mount Athos live in a world with few enticements to their attention. They've reduced to a minimum their involvement with physical entities having only relative existence. Such material poverty is an integral part of monasticism.
The abandonment of material goods was an essential ingredient of the renunciation involved in the monastic vocation from the very beginning. ([P09],247).

Voluntary poverty is often recommended by the enlightened. Jesus, for example, advised his followers:
Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: (Mt 6:19-20,[H08]),

and: For

. . . go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor . . . (Mt 19:21,[H08]). . . . [i]t is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God. (Mt 19:24,[H08]).

Why should this be so? Should a Christian view created things as inherently evil? Hardly. After all, Genesis 1:31 teaches God surveyed all He had created and saw it was good. But involvement with and attachment to such objects seems to prevent attachment to the Eternal.
For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. (Mt 6:21,[H08]).

Poverty and Detachment Poverty involves more than physical

. . . detachment from all that is worldly and unreal . . . True poverty is not merely lack of wealth, but lack of desire for wealth . . . ([N11],36-7).

Detachment, the giving up of desire for, involvement and concern 78

with, and attachment to any created entity, is the second step in The Ladder of Divine Ascent. As hesychastic monks have found,
. . . the first step . . . in the long process of returning to God is to cut oneself off from all extrinsic attachments and then to tie the self to God in one's heart. But before there can be attachment to God there must be detachment from the world. ([M02],52).

Before we can clearly see the movie as a play of light, we must first become unattached to seeing the various forms - the people and objects - the play of light creates. Similarly, before we can clearly see the world as a play of the Uncreated Light - and so come to see the Uncreated Light Itself - we must first become unattached to seeing the various forms, the people and objects, the play of Uncreated Light creates. The Eternal Light is Reality, but Its play creates entities with relative existence, entities which are, in comparison, unreal. Detachment from the play gives us discrimination, enabling us to distinguish the Real from the unreal. For example, as Teresa
. . . severed her attachments to things of the world, so her experience of . . . God deepened. ([B04],121).

Religious teachers, therefore, often advise detachment. Buddha suggested his followers cease desiring any entity with only relative existence.
For that which is impermanent, brother, you must put away desire. . . . For that which is suffering, brother, you must put away desire. . . . For that which is no self, brother, you must put away desire. . . . ([B08],65). . . . if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also. (Mt 5:40,[H08]).

Jesus, too, seems to have taught a similar detachment. More generally, he recommended

Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. (Mt 6:24,[H08]).

In short,

Take therefore no thought for the morrow . . . (Mt 6:34,[H08]).

Passionlessness And Thoughtlessness The world's exterior show isn't the only play of the Eternal to which we are subject. And desires with respect to it aren't our only desires. Inside of us is a drama of emotions and thoughts, memories and fantasies. These too are impermanent entities having only relative existence; their perception therefore is also a hindrance to perception of the Eternal. So, to completely free Awareness, we must detach It from the internal drama, from passions and other emotions, from thoughts, memories, and fantasies.

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Thus, "in the earnest exercise of mystic contemplation," "Dionysius" recommends one should
. . . leave the senses and the activities of the intellect and all things that the senses or the intellect can perceive . . . ([D08],191).

Similarly, hesychasm recommends one should ([M02],76) "contain the mind in the heart, freed of all imaginings." For
. . . the mind, in order to reach true contemplation, must begin by emptying itself of all thoughts, whether they be good or bad. ([M02],113). . . . the control of thought-waves in the mind. ([H09],11),

In fact, Patanjali, in his Yoga Sutras, defines yoga as Passions of course also exist in the drama, and so must be abandoned, too. Thus, Islam's Sufis seek fana, a term which includes both passionlessness and thoughtlessness, and sometimes refers to gnosis as well. Fana is
1. A moral transformation of the soul through the extinction of all its passions and desires. . . . 2. . . . passing-away of the mind from all objects of perception, thoughts, actions, and feelings through its concentration upon the thought of God. . . . 3. The cessation of all conscious thought. ([N11],60-1).

Detachment from the Ego, Detachment from World To withdraw from the drama, an Awareness must be freed of everything external or internal which is not the Eternal. The play of the Eternal includes more than objects and people, more than feelings and thoughts. It also includes our relative selves, the ego. For as we've seen, our selves are changing entities with only relative existence. They are part of the drama. Awareness, the Self, must be detached from the ego, the self, if It is to be free of the drama. Therefore, religious teachers often condemn pride and arrogance, recommending instead detachment from ego in the form of humility, meekness, and self-surrender. Jesus, for example, taught
Blessed are the meek . . . (Mt 5:5,[H08]),

and and

. . . whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. (Mt 5:39,[H08]), And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain. (Mt 5:41,[H08]).

Moreover, he held the person who serves others the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Similarly, Teresa of Avila
. . . rejected the principles of honor and lineage as incompatible with the religious life. For Teresa, obsession with one's reputation was a particularly

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insidious example of attachment to "things of the world. ([B04],127).

So

[l]ike many of the great religious reformers, Teresa replaced honor with its reverse, humility, as the value most appropriate to the spiritual life. ([B04],130).

In her convents, wrote ([B04],127) Teresa, "All the sisters must be equals." And the author of The Ladder of Divine Ascent recommended
. . . patience in annoyances, unmurmuring endurance of scorn, disregard of insults, and the habit, when wronged, of bearing it sturdily; when slandered, of not being indignant; when humiliated, not to be angry . . . ([C09],13).

Detachment from ego, in the form of humility and eventemperedness, helps dying to self and the consequent new birth of awareness of Self. It gives independence from external circumstances, making one a "king" of the interior world. The usual image of a king is someone who has power and control of the external world. On a king's command, buildings are constructed, people are knighted, wars are fought, etc. But such a person might have little or no control of their own interior world; they might be unable to resist anger, lust, greed, gluttony, etc. A king of the interior world, on the other hand, has power and control over their own interior world. The ancient Stoics seem to have held the ideal of the interior king. For them
. . . sovereignty over oneself ceased to be a civic virtue and became an end unto itself. Autonomy secured inner peace and made a man independent of Fortune . . . This was preeminently the Stoic ideal . . . ([H07],v1,36).

And Buddha had an analogous idea. He considered various negative states to be "defilements" and suggested ([B10],180-2) one should "cleanse the mind of obstructive mental states" such as ill-will, sloth, and torpor, restlessness and worry, dejection, and coveting for the world. The Negative and Affirmative Ways One criticism of the negative way is that it's life-denying. Is it? Yes, if life is identified with drama, the picture show of events, feelings, and thoughts that absorbs most of us. In fact, that's it purpose. DramaValues 319

denying, however, is more accurate, for far from denying life, the goal of the negative way is the life which never ends, conscious union with the Eternal.

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Another criticism is that it's not always available. Some religions don't have a monastic tradition. For some people, a retired, private life, in effect, a private cloister, may be the only option. Indeed, many people have pursued the negative way in that manner.
. . . [M]en and women have built their own cloister in the midst of the worldly activity around them. ([N03],v4,263).

Many people have lived in the world yet practiced renunciation, withdrawal, poverty, detachment, passionlessness, desirelessness, and mental stillness. So monasticism isn't the only way to God. As Parrinder observes, there have been
. . . noted lay men and women living in the world yet famed for their mystical devotions and writings. ([P05],187).

The most serious criticism of the negative way, however, is it's open to only the few. Many people, myself included, aren't able (or, at least, aren't willing) to make the radical life changes it demands. Complete dedication to beyond-the-show-world goals is itself beyond most of us. So, what about us? How can we move towards gnosis? For us, there's another way, the affirmative way. In the negative way, creation is denied and withdrawn from. It's considered an obstacle, a veil, a hindrance to perception of the Eternal. Siddhartha, protagonist of Hermann Hesse's novel of the same name, once held this attitude.
"This," he said, handling it, "is a stone . . . Previously I should have said: This stone is just a stone; it has no value, it belongs to the world of Maya . . ." ([H05],145).

Siddhartha saw that the play of the Uncreated Light, creation, veils the Eternal. Yet it embodies the Real, too. Like a diamond which holds and reflects light, the world around us holds and reflects the Eternal Light. Eventually, Siddhartha realized this.
But now I think: This stone is stone; it is also animal, God and Buddha. . . . I love it just because it is a stone . . . I see value and meaning in each one of its fine markings and cavities, in the yellow, in the gray, in the hardness and the sound of it when I knock it . . . There are stones that feel like oil or soap, that look like leaves or sand, and each one is different and worships Om in its own way; each one is Brahman. ([H05],145).

Since the universe is a manifestation of the Real, knowing the universe can lead to knowledge of the Real. So the show world, the play of light, can be a bridge to the Center. Some mystics, in fact, see that as its primary purpose. In the words of Eckhart:
The world . . . was made for the soul's sake, so that the soul's eye might be practiced and strengthened to bear the divine light. ([M11],161).

For the divine light 82

. . . is so overpowering and clear that the soul's eye could not bear it unless it were steadied by matter . . . so that it is led up to the divine light and accustomed to it. ([M11],161).

Indeed, as Ghazzali wrote,

Allah hath Seventy Thousand Veils of Light and Darkness: were He to withdraw their curtain, then would the splendours of His Aspect surely consume everyone who apprehended Him with his sight. ([A03],76-7).

Mystical value systems which view creation positively, as a help in reaching gnosis, are part of the so-called "affirmative way." The affirmative way seeks to come to awareness of the Real not by denying Its manifestations, but by learning to see the Eternal Light behind all Its varied appearances. Since it accepts the Eternal's dance, Its drama, the affirmative way better suits someone who is in the world. It accepts the everyday world we live in, and demands no rejection and separation, no cave, mountaintop, or hermetical retreat. It looks for experience of God in the people and things around us. It replaces renunciation and withdrawal with a worldly life whose aim is gnosis, a life which is "in the world but not of the world." In place of poverty there's the moderated and charitable use of things; in place of detachment there's an acceptance of occurrences as God's will; in place of chastity there's a restrained indulgence in sexuality, often only within wedlock. Attitudes towards Others The affirmative way looks for experience of God in the people and things around us. It sees each living and non-living entity as a manifestation or embodiment of the Eternal Light, what Johannes Scotus Erigena called a "theophany." How should someone treat a theophany? If the theophany is another person, one way is pacifism, an absolute refusal to use violence against them. Some religions are pacifist. Eighteenth century Quakers ([F01],3), for instance, gave up political control of Pennsylvania, a state which they founded, rather than vote for war. Today, Quakers still believe that
. . . we must all seriously consider the implications of our employment, our investments, our payment of taxes, and our manner of living as they relate to violence. ([F01],35),

and that

. . . war is wrong in the sight of God. . . . We would alleviate the suffering caused by war. We would refrain from participating in all forms of violence and repression. ([F01],34-5).

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In this, they follow Jesus' command to

[l]ove your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you; That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good . . . (Mt 5:44-45,[H08]).

Some religious groups even refuse to use violence against animals; they are vegetarian. Buddha, for example, described the monk as one who has abandoned
. . . the slaying of creatures . . . the taking of what is not given . . . the unchaste life . . . falsehood . . . slanderous speech . . . bitter speech . . . idle babble . . . injury to seed-life and plant-life . . . highway robbery, plundering and deeds of violence. ([B06],221-2).

And Patanjali, in his Yoga Sutras, makes "not injuring" the first principle of "Abstinence," which in turn is the first of the eight "limbs" of yoga.
(1) "Abstinence" includes (a) not injuring, (b) not lying, (c) not stealing, (d) not being sensual, and (e) not being possessive. (XXX,[Y01],96).

Of course, pacifism and vegetarianism aren't the only ways to treat living theophanies. But many religious and mystical value systems do recommend patience and forgiveness of injury and insult, and a positive concern manifest in schools, hospitals, orphanages, humanitarian and poverty relief efforts, and social action groups. The Rightful Use of Things In some systems, non-injury is practiced, in so far as possible, toward animals and even plants. For example, the hermit whose food is predominately dairy, fruit and nut is someone who refuses to injure animals and plants unnecessarily. In other systems, no obligation toward animals and plants is seen. Rather, they are freely exploited for the benefit of the human race. Even in these systems, however, a proper concern for other people may imply a certain treatment of animals and plants. For example, we've seen that about 16 pounds of plant feed are needed to produce a pound ([L03],9) of animal flesh for the table. In addition, the animal consumes much fresh water between birth and slaughter. Therefore, a desire the conserve water and food for people, rather than any direct concern for animals, might persuade someone to avoid animal flesh. So, concern for people may determine the proper treatment of animals and plants. The proper use of things may be derived in a similar way. The proper use of inanimate objects helps us and other people, while improper use hurts, not the objects, but ourselves or others. Therefore, even though the affirmative way doesn't demand 84

personal poverty, it does demand the ethical, charitable use of things, moderation in one's own personal possessions, and an interest the welfare of others. Humanitarian and poverty relief efforts are examples that come to mind. Religions often engage in such efforts. There is, however, another type of humanitarian relief effort which religions often neglect. It's one thing to relieve poverty and sickness; it is quite another to attempt to understand and eliminate their cause. This realization has come recently to the Roman Catholic church in Latin America. Once,
[p]riests had . . . often preached resignation to "God's will" in a way that could reinforce the belief that the present distribution of wealth and power comes from God. ([B03],31).

Moreover,

. . . morality focused on sins of marital infidelity or drinking, or treatment of other individuals, and was little concerned about the impact of social structures. ([B03],66).

Now, however, in some quarters material poverty is understood to be

. . . an evil, as the result of the oppression of some people by others. Poverty that dehumanizes human beings is an offense against God. ([B03],32).

Such ideas are sometimes labeled "Liberation Theology." Liberation theology attempts to eliminate the causes of poverty by restructuring society. It teaches
[p]eople do not simply happen to be poor; their poverty is largely a product of the way society is organized. ([B03],5).

Therefore, it criticizes economic systems that

. . . enable some Latin Americans to jet to Miami or London to shop, while most of their fellow citizens do not have safe drinking water. ([B03],5).

Such thinking, however, is not entirely new. For example, believing that all people were equal in the sight of God ([F01],3), Quakers centuries ago worked for what were then unpopular causes, such as
. . . the abolition of slavery and of war, the welfare of Negroes and Indians, temperance, prison reform and the rights of women. ([F01],5).

Their motives, perhaps, were similar to those of liberation theologians today who've decided
. . . the causes of poverty were structural and would require basic structural changes . . . [S]uch changes would come about only through political action. ([B03],15).

Such theologians envision

. . . a government that feeds the hungry, clothes the naked, teaches the ignorant, puts into practice the

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work of charity, and love for neighbor . . . for the majority of our neighbors. ([B03],18).

There's one danger to the spiritual seeker in political action, and indeed all acts, that should be mentioned. In the affirmative way, actions are meant to aid the journey to gnosis. When properly performed,
[f]ar from being an obstacle to spiritual growth, the giving of oneself in the service of others out of charity fosters the interior life of the soul. ([N03],v1,99).

But if actions, the means, become more important than experience of the Eternal, then the goal becomes political rather than spiritual. The object shifts from changing one's own inner world to changing the outer world. Someone who started out as a spiritual seeker becomes a political activist. Their action increases, rather than reduces, their attachment to drama. The Two Ways Compared; Transcendence and Immanence The negative and affirmative ways regard the world differently. One views it as a veil of the Eternal, a hindrance to gnosis. The other views it as an embodiment of the Eternal, an aid to gnosis. These two views have their roots in two different ways of thinking of the Real: as either immanent or transcendental. Let's examine these two ideas. When we first introduced the idea of Ultimate Ground of Existence, many chapters ago, we started with a table and progressed to wood to molecules to, eventually, the table's Eternal Substance. Approached in this way, the Real is immanent, inherent, and indwelling in the table and, indeed, in all entities. In so far as It's the world's Ultimate Substance, the Eternal is the world and the world is the Eternal. Yet the Unformed transcends the table, too. The table is brown, perhaps; the Unborn isn't brown. In fact, It's very different from anything we know. Grass is green, the Unconditioned isn't green. Water is wet, the Uncaused Cause isn't wet. Lead is heavy, the Unformed isn't heavy. The Real transcends the physical, emotional, and intellectual spheres. Therefore, the Center goes beyond and is not limited by the world. In this sense, the Eternal isn't the world and the world isn't the Eternal. Light may be thought of as particle or wave. The God who is not a Person may be thought of as Person or not. Similarly, the Real may be
Values 325

considered immanent in the world or transcendent to the world. Shankara illustrated the situation as follows. In India, cobras are greatly feared since their bites are often deadly. Imagine a rope left coiled along a village path. It's twilight. Someone on the path "sees" a snake and becomes fearful.

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The immanent reality and the ground of existence of the "snake" is the rope. Therefore, in a sense the rope is the snake. Yet the rope transcends the "snake," goes beyond the "snake," and is very different from any genuine snake. In this sense, the rope isn't the snake. Even as the "snake" is the rope misperceived, the world is the Eternal misperceived. And even as we may regard the "snake" as actually a rope, or as something very different from rope, we may regard the world as the Eternal Substance, or as something very different. And, finally, even as the "snake" is illusory but its ground is real, the world is illusory but its ground is real, in fact, the Real. Ramana Maharshi's once declared [T03],16) that 1) the Eternal is real, 2) the world is unreal, and 3) the Eternal is the world. The world is unreal, he says, but the Eternal, which is real, is the world. Is, then, the world real or not? The statements may seem to contradict themselves, but when understood in the light of Shankara's illustration, they're no more contradictory than 1) the rope is real, 2) the snake is unreal, and 3) the rope is the snake. Perhaps, "the Eternal appears as the world" and "the rope appears as a snake" is clearer. For world and snake are unreal in that they exist only in appearance. How does all this concern the negative and affirmative ways? The negative way seems based on a transcendent view of the Real. Since the Real is very different from anything we perceive, it says, perception of those things must be abandoned before perception of the Real can arise. The affirmative way, on the other hand, seems based on an immanent view of the Real. The Real is here, right before us, if we could only see. Therefore, there is no need to deny the world around us. Rather, seeing the world properly will reveal its Eternal Basis. Are then the two ways equally effective for reaching gnosis? Perhaps not. For it seems as long as the "snake" exists there some measure of illusion and unreality. Even if the "snake" is known to be a rope, even if it's seen as such, as long as even the appearance of snake remains, the rope is not fully seen as it is, clearly, without illusion. Rufus Jones observes that in the affirmative way,
. . . the seeker follows after the "beneficent progression of God," and gathers up what light he can from the revelations and manifestations, as God unveils Himself by going out of His Hiddenness. ([J03],105).

He continues:

The discovery of the truth through manifestations is . . . the affirmative way. . . . [I]n the outgoing of God we can discover the attributes which in the Godhead "at home" are swallowed up in the unity of His perfect

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self. ([J03],108).

Not only are the attributes of God swallowed up in Godhead. For if we follow the outgoings of God far enough, we too are swallowed up in the unity of His perfect Self. But at this point we've lost sight of creation, and see only God. The affirmative way has turned into the negative way. So, by itself, the affirmative way seems to have a certain limitation.
The affirmative way never carries the seeker beyond "reflections" of the ultimate reality. ([J03],108).

Only the negative way goes beyond reflections to Godhead. It seems the affirmative way is a way of preparation which leads one eventually to the negative way, and eventually the pure contemplation of, and finally union with, the One. Summary We've examined different kinds of values systems, with emphasis on mystical value systems, on systems which include the goal of gnosis. We've seen that many of the negative way's practices, that is, many monastic actions and attitudes, follow naturally if someone is trying to abandon the drama of life to reach the Reality behind it. We've also briefly discussed the affirmative way, with emphasis on a few of its possible practices, namely, pacifism, vegetarianism, and action for social justice. Many more practices from both ways can be discussed. We'll see more in the next chapter.

13

- Paths And Pitfalls Chapter Summary: This chapter discusses the spiritual path, an idea that pre-supposes goals and values. Various types of actions and attitudes are explored. There are many more attitudes and actions which seekers of gnosis value. So we'll need a more detailed scheme than negative and affirmative way to discuss them, just as we needed a finer classification scheme than extrovert and introvert to discuss personal identity. This chapter uses the idea of path to place thoughts and actions into an overall scheme, to help organize some ideas we've already seen, and to introduce some new ones. It also discusses a few pitfalls on the road to gnosis. The Path A world view is a kind of map. It tells us who and where we are in relation to the world around us. And it shows us other places we could 88

go, that is, it describes various goals we could work towards. The goals we choose express where we are going, or at least where we'd like to go. A map also shows the intervening terrain. With a goal but no map, we might set out in the right direction, but encounter so many obstacles we turn back. But with a good map, we can intelligently choose a path which avoid pitfalls and obstacles. Our values express the terrain we'd like to visit, and the terrain we'd like to avoid. Someone who values the affirmative way might choose a life in the normal world; someone who values the negative way might join a cloistered monastic community. Each would be taking a different path towards the same goal. Paths appear in many religions. Eastern Christianity's The Ladder of Divine Ascent ([C09]) for example describes a path back to God where each step on the path is like a rung on a ladder. And the Hindu sage Patanjali describes eight "limbs" of yoga:
(1) Abstention . . . (2) Devotion . . . (3) Posture . . . (4) Relaxation of Breathing . . . (5) Retraction of the Senses . . . (6) Fixation of Attention . . . (7) Fusive Apprehension . . . (8) Full Integration of Consciousness . . . ([Y01],94).

These limbs are actually milestones on the path. Abstention and devotion are moral practices, a list of do's and don'ts. Posture, relaxation of breathing, retraction of the senses, and fixation of attention refer to meditative practices which lead to gnosis. The last two limbs correspond to different levels of gnosis, different types of knowledge of God. In this chapter a path loosely based on the eightfold path of Buddha (refer, for example, [B07],74) will be useful. We'll discuss right world views, right goals, right attitudes and acts in general, and right attitudes and acts specifically directed toward gnosis. These steps are similar to Buddha's right views, aims, speech, action, livelihood, and effort. The next chapter continues with meditative exercises which lead to gnosis, and gnosis itself, steps similar to Buddha's right mindfulness and right concentration. Right Views, Right Goals The world view we've been developing is a "right view" in that it includes a "right goal," a transcendental goal, the goal of gnosis. Other - sometimes vastly dissimilar - religious, philosophical, or metaphysical world views contain a similar goal. Since these systems contain a "right goal" we'll call them each a "right view." Of course, the systems don't completely agree with each other and may contain errors. So, "right view" doesn't necessarily mean a perfectly correct view, it means a world view which offers the goal of union with God. For our purposes purely secular world views aren't "right views."

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Even though their rejection of superstition and ignorance may place them closer to objective truth and reality, they offer no right goal, no ideal of transcendence, no goal beyond the world of people and physical objects, emotions and thoughts. Science as it exists today isn't a right view because it offers no goal beyond the physical, emotional, and intellectual spheres. If it had the goal of direct experience of the Eternal, however, it would become a right view. Is a right view - a comprehensive world view which offers the goal of gnosis - necessary for an aspiring mystic? No. Sometimes, just having a right goal and a few associated beliefs are sufficient. For example, believing it's possible to directly experience our Eternal Basis is enough to convince some people to undertake the arduous struggle for gnosis. Most people, however, need some additional motivating beliefs. For example, believing that the world is soon to end has been a powerful motivation; based on it many people have eagerly sought That which will not pass away. We'll discuss a few motivating beliefs. We'll see some are sanely based on truth and insight; others are sane beliefs exaggerated to an unhealthy pitch; still others are unhealthy, or are based on falsehood and delusion.

Right Actions, Right Effort Ideally, a right view should offer more than the goal of gnosis; it should offer some means of achieving it. Science unfortunately doesn't even acknowledge the possibility of direct experience of or union with the Eternal, so it naturally offers no means of achieving gnosis, of transcending the physical, emotional, and intellectual spheres. Our world view offers a means of achieving gnosis, as do other world views. Right actions and right efforts constitute some of the means to gnosis. A right action is an attitude adopted or an action performed for a goal other than gnosis which nonetheless contributes to, or at least doesn't hinder, the journey toward gnosis. For example, we may work primarily to earn a livelihood but if our work helps our journey toward gnosis, then it's right action. Right effort, on the other hand, is an act undertaken or an attitude adopted specifically to help our return to the Eternal. Examples of right effort include prayer, fasting, vigils, meditation, charity, humility, and compassion. The distinction between right action and right effort is sometimes hard to apply since some actions may be performed either for their own sake, or for the sake of gnosis, or both. Someone can fast to lose weight, to purify the body, to deepen prayer or meditation, or for all those reasons. Many, if not most, situations and occurrences can be used to move towards gnosis. Almost daily, opportunities for 90

patience, kindness, resignation, love of neighbor, etc. present themselves. In fact, the perfection of the affirmative way is to use everything as a stepping stone on the road to union with the One, to live one's entire life as a prayer. Because the distinction between right action and right effort can be troublesome, we'll often discuss acts and attitudes without deciding whether they are primarily, or only partially, concerned with gnosis. That is, we won't always decide whether something is a right effort, or a right action. Let's begin with attitudes towards inanimate entities, towards things and events. Attitudes Toward Things and Events How might an aspiring mystic regard things and events? What attitudes might they adopt towards these nouns and verbs of the external world? Many religions teach a disillusioned view of the things to which we are so attached. "Disillusioned," that is, in a positive sense. To one who wishes to know the truth, disillusionment - losing illusions - is desirable. Conversely, someone who wants to avoid disillusionment seems to feel our illusions are a precious shield against a truth too horrible to behold. A disillusioned view of component entities is easily derived from what we've already seen: they are "empty," that is, they lack enduring substantial identity and fully real existence; they are transitory and have an existence dependent on certain conditions; and they lack the ability to satisfy us completely, that is, they contain an element of imperfection, of suffering. Moreover, since they contain equal yang and yin, they're only apparently desirable or undesirable, not actually. Yet some entities certainly seem very desirable. As an antidote to this desire, religious teachers often emphasize, sometimes quite strongly, the unalluring, yin aspects of component entities. Buddha, for example, said:
Body . . is impermanent. Feeling, perception, the activities . . . consciousness is impermanent. So . . . the well-taught . . . disciple is repelled by body, is repelled by feeling, by perception, by the activities. He is repelled by consciousness. Being repelled by it he lusts not for it: not lusting he is set free. ([B08],20).

He repeated the same statements replacing "impermanent" with "suffering" and "non-self." I find "is repelled by" a bit too strong and prefer "is detached from." The original version seems to border on that exaggerated depreciation of and aversion to things which often passes for genuine disillusionment.

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Genuine disillusionment is a dispassionate, detached attitude based on insight. It's quite different from and often confused with another attitude which I'll call "sour-grape disillusionment," after a famous Aesop fable. In the tale, a fox wants some grapes hanging from a tree, but can't jump high enough to reach them. After many attempts, he gives up and walks away in disgust and disappointment. "They're probably sour anyway," he decides. Sour-grape disillusionment is based on disappointment rather than insight. The fox would still like to have the grapes, if he could. He depreciates them only because of disappointment. Genuine disillusionment, on the other hand, is based on insight. Once someone fully realizes the yin inherent in pleasurable things and the yang inherent in painful things, or once they fully desire the Eternal above all else, then they've lost interest in grapes, no matter how sweet. People who adopt a sour-grape attitude toward the world still very much desire its pleasures, which for some reason seem out of reach. They depreciate the world only because of disappointment. Often, their disappointment arises from injuries, disasters, and calamities they've suffered or witnessed. For example, many Europeans who endured the horrors of the Bubonic plague adopted sour-grape disillusionment toward the world. Another example is found in ([M02]) Russian Hesychasm. During the 14th and 15th centuries C.E. the Russian people faced a series of calamities. Perhaps as a result, many people held the
. . . conviction of the world and all that is found in it as seditious and evil. ([M02],27).

Religious writings echoed the theme.

The ascetical tracts certainly painted the world in its worst colours . . . ([M02],27).

There was another reason to depreciate the world then. Based on biblical prophecy it was widely held ([M02],26) throughout Russia the world would end in 1492. That the world is evil and will soon end are two powerful reasons for giving it up. They led some Russians to adopt the monastic life, since
[w]ith their thoughts so often centred on the destruction of this present world, the monastic life held out special appeal as the best preparation for the Heavenly Jerusalem. ([M02],27).

The impending end of the world has been a popular religious belief, although obviously wrong. In the past, many religions preached the world would end soon. Early Christianity, of course, was partially based on this belief. Similarly,
[t]o Muhammad the Final Judgment seemed a near reality, and he constantly urged his followers to abstain from material pleasures in order to lay up treasure in Heaven. ([A08],26)

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Some religious sects even today expect the world to end soon. I once saw a person carrying a poster which announced this belief. The poster cited a scriptural prophecy. It occurred to me the scriptural prophecy had been penned over two thousands years ago. I couldn't understand why I should believe a "prophecy" that had been consistently wrong for over two thousand years. Believing the sour-grape disillusioned view of the world and believing it's going to end soon can powerfully motivate the search for gnosis, for That which is perfectly fulfilling and never ends. Moreover, the two beliefs naturally give rise to detachment from things. After all, if the world is evil and soon to end, then we'll soon lose our possessions. So clinging to them is futile. And if the world is a dirty, evil place then there's no use desiring anything in it. Yet they are inferior motivations. First, they aren't based on truth. At least, there is no reason to expect the world to end soon. Whether it's a dirty, evil place anyone may decide for themselves. They are inferior too since when the world doesn't end as scheduled, a believer may abandon the search for the Eternal and even decide all religious and mystical activities are worthless. A much superior motivation is the type of disillusionment based on accurate, deep insight into the actual nature of things. An attitude akin to sour-grape disillusionment is fatalism, the view that everything is preordained and already fated, that effort is useless, for what shall happen shall happen. Fatalism says we are helpless pawns at the mercy of powers beyond our control, and must resign ourselves to the inevitable. Believing the world will soon end may encourage fatalism, since if the end of the world is preordained then perhaps all other occurrences are, too. Is the future already determined? The movie we see at a theater certainly is; events are fixed before the film begins to run. Is the movie which is our life preordained as well? Is the future already immutably fixed? Or do we have free will; are we free to choose our actions? These questions obviously concern predestination and free will, issues to which entire books have been devoted. In this book, I just assume we have free will. If we do, then value systems are useful as guides to action, and we can in fact choose our goals, actions, and attitudes. If we don't, then value systems and goals are useless; we'll perform whatever actions are predestined. But if we don't have free will, then I can't help assuming we do. Predestination, by the way, isn't the only position which denies free will. Another is presented in a book I read as a child, What is Man? by Samuel Clemens who wrote as Mark Twain. Clemens attempted to prove we are machines, incapable of making real choice, always choosing the path of least pain. In his view, the future wasn't preordained, but the choice we'd make in any circumstances was. 93

Whether they believed in free will or predestination, many mystics recommended equanimity, an even-tempered, balanced acceptance of good and bad fortune. Equanimity can be based on the insight that both yang and yin aspects inhere in events, or on resignation to God's will. In either case, it's a help to gnosis. For it promotes a peaceful, calm state of mind detached from the world's drama. Equanimity becomes unhealthy, however, when it turns into fatalism. Things and events are part of the external world, part of what is often beyond our control. Our own physical, emotional, and intellectual actions, on the other hand, are usually under our control, at least partially. We'll discuss them next. Physical Actions and Efforts Physical methods are methods which work with the body, for example, hatha yoga or asceticism. One ascetic practice many religions recommend, or even require, is fasting.
For Symeon there could be no serious prayer life without fasting. ([S26],31).

Fasting is said to deepen prayer and meditation, as well as purify and revitalize the body. The bibliography contains a few references ([C17], [P06], [R08]) on fasting. Many monastic traditions recommend not only occasional fasting, but a permanently restricted diet, as well as vigil, long hours of prayer, and other ascetic practices. Buddha, for example, said a monk should be
. . . moderate in eating. . . . should take food reflecting carefully, not for fun or indulgence or personal charm or beautification, but just enough for maintaining this body . . . ([B10],180).

The negative way uses asceticism to help detach Self from body. Asceticism also aims at a dying to self, a detachment of Self from self, the ego. At least one monastic author believes the two are related.
It is self-deception to think that we can eradicate our self-love without doing violence to our flesh, which is the favorite breeding ground of egoism. ([P09],232).

He believes ascetical practices are necessary (at least, for monks), since while they
. . . do not constitute perfection, . . . the experience of centuries has taught that they are an efficacious means to obtain it, and that it can scarcely be achieved without them. ([P09],232).

Of course, the body and ego may resist. Therefore asceticism can become ([P09],192) "ascetical combat." Asceticism's ultimate aim is equanimity and indifference to pleasure and pain. Buddha listed some practical consequences of such equanimity and indifference when he described a monk as someone 94

who is

. . . able to endure heat, cold, hunger, thirst, the touch of mosquitoes, gadflies, wind, sun and creeping things, abusive language and unwelcome modes of speech; he has grown to bear bodily feelings which . . . are painful, acute, sharp, severe, wretched, miserable, deadly. ([B10],182).

Equanimity can lead to gnosis since someone who sees the yin aspects of pleasurable things and the yang aspects of painful things sees "pleasurable" and "painful" things equally. They're less enmeshed in dualistic vision and therefore closer to gnosis. Similarly, insensitivity to pleasure and pain means insensitivity to dualistic vision, which means some measure of release from duality. Such a person is closer to gnosis. There's a pitfall which sometimes traps the would-be ascetic. They allow their desire to discipline the body to turn into a hatred of the body. Shankara seemed to fall into this trap when he wrote the body is
. . . a bundle of bones held together by flesh. It is very dirty and full of filth. ([S11],57),

and, therefore, should be regarded as

. . . impure, as though it were an outcast. ([S11],75).

Similarly, while many early Christian saints of the Egyptian desert were models of holiness, some exhibited a "ascetical one-upmanship" that seemed very unhealthy. Therefore, St. Benedict warned his monks against
. . . an inhuman kind of asceticism which would destroy the very faculties that must be perfected. All ascetical practices are nothing more than means . . . ([P09],230).

Rather than ends in themselves, they are means to gnosis. Like St. Benedict, Buddha condemned the "self-tormentor."
He is a plucker out of hair and beard . . . He remains standing and refuses a seat. . . . He is a "bed-ofthorns" man, he makes his bed on spikes. . . . He lives given to these practices which torment the body. ([B06],219).

Though fasting and asceticism play a role, in the affirmative way physical acts which affect other people are more common. Examples are humanitarian efforts which either alleviate suffering, such as the care of the sick or elderly and the feeding of the hungry, or help people in some other way, such as education or public service. Such efforts not only help the recipients, but help the giver become more concerned with others and less concerned with self, that is, to die to self. And if self-centeredness is the problem and Self-centeredness the cure, then whatever helps us become less egocentric is also a help to gnosis.

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The affirmative way also offers a physical method which is the opposite of asceticism. This method, formalized in India under the name of "Tantra," teaches that the world's people and objects are to be loved and quite literally embraced, rather than rejected. It teaches one can rise above desire and reach gnosis through the fulfillment and satiation of desire. In particular, Tantra ([M15],40-1) teaches that sexual desires shouldn't be suppressed, but indulged. Move toward union with God while enjoying all sorts of pleasures along the way? Tantra sounds too good to be true, and it probably is. Some mystics denounce the Tantric path as no path at all but an excuse for debauchery; others seem to grant it some measure of legitimacy by condemning it as a path which is extremely dangerous. Many of Rajneesh's disciples ([M15],38-42) followed the path of Tantra; some of them probably wished they hadn't. There's a phenomena which passes for asceticism though it's not. Once some measure of union with the One has been achieved, the mystic may naturally transcend duality, and therefore be naturally insensitive to dualistic pairs.
Having . . . transcended the influence of the pairs of opposites, the Sage, free from desire, does not feel pleasure or pain in anything he experiences. (III,14,[A10],13).

At this point, the mystic isn't ascetic. They aren't resisting their natural inclinations, rather they are following them. But clear vision of the One has robbed the Two of its attraction, so their inclination is to be unattracted to component entities with relative existence. Similarly, they don't have to help and love others to detach their Self from their self. Rather they have a natural regard for other people, who they see as embodiments of the One they love. Drugs Physical methods also include the use of certain "mind-manifesting" substances, that is, of certain drugs. During the 1960s, these drugs were well-known and widely used in some circles. What wasn't wellknown, however, was that some people used the drugs to achieve mystical experiences. Aldous Huxley observes
. . . it is a matter of historical record that most contemplatives worked systematically to modify their body chemistry, with a view to creating the internal conditions favorable to spiritual insight. ([H10],155).

Their methods included ascetic practices such as fasting, vigils, selfflagellation, continuous psalms, and breathing exercises. He thought

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certain drugs could bring about similar changes in body chemistry, and recommended ([H10],156) them over the older methods. In fact, Huxley himself experienced mystical insights under the influence of mescaline, a drug derived from the peyote cactus and used sacramentally in the religious services of some Native American tribes. The Doors of Perception contains a record of his mescaline experience.
The Beatific Vision, Sat Chit Ananda, BeingAwareness-Bliss - for the first time I understood, not on the verbal level, not by inchoate hints or at a distance, but precisely and completely what those prodigious syllables referred to. ([H10],18).

Sat Chit Ananda is a Hindu phrase for the experience of Brahman, the God which is not a Person. Can drugs really bring about direct knowledge of God? The religious use of drugs (refer, for example, [F04] or [N05],v14,201) is ancient. Thousands of years ago, Hindu sages sang the praises of soma, Jews and Christians drank consecrated wine, and Aztecs used sacred psychedelic mushrooms which they called "flesh of the gods." More recently, William James found nitrous oxide greatly stimulated his mystical consciousness. And philosopher Alan Watts had drug induced religious experiences which he described in The Joyous Cosmology. Watts seemed to experience the God which is not a Person.
. . . . I see . . . a face which reminds me of the Christos Pantocrator of Byzantine mosaics, and I feel that the angels are drawing back with wings over their faces in a motion of reverent dread. But the face dissolves. The pool of flame grows brighter and brighter, and I notice that the winged beings are drawing back with a gesture, not of dread, but of tenderness - for the flame knows no anger. Its warmth and radiance - "tongues of flame infolded" - are an efflorescence of love so endearing that I feel I have seen the heart of all hearts. ([W03],78).

Timothy Leary was another proponent of drug-aided religious experiences. While still a Harvard psychology professor, Leary
. . . ate seven of the so-called sacred mushrooms . . . During the next five hours, I was whirled through an experience which could be described in many extravagant metaphors but which was, above all and without question, the deepest religious experience of my life. . . . I have repeated this biochemical and (to me) sacramental ritual several hundred times . . . ([L04],13,4).

Leary also administered psychedelic drugs to others and studied their experiences. He found
[s]ubjects speak of participating in and merging with

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pure (i.e., content-free) energy, white light . . . ([L04],24).

He regarded such energy as God.

God does exist and is to me this energy process . . . ([L04],275).

And he believed psychedelic experience was best described in mystical terms.

[T]he panoramas and the levels that you get into with LSD are exactly those areas which men have called the confrontation of God. The LSD trip is the classic visionary-mystic voyage. ([L04],260).

Thus, much of Leary's drug experience was religious, at least to him. Even R. Zaehner, who criticized mystical claims for drugs, recognized Leary believed LSD could bring about
. . . direct religious experience of the eternal being that pervades all that is ephemeral and transient. ([Z01],76).

Zaehner described this as experience of

Brahman. . . 'boundless being' . . . the base of all becoming. . . . It is this 'principle of eternity' rather than any personal God that the takers of psychedelic drugs claim to experience. ([Z01],43).

So Leary and others believed psychedelic drugs could help bring about direct experience of God, not of some God who is a Person, like Jesus or Krishna, but of the God which is not a Person. Eventually Leary and some associates moved into a mansion, which they regarded as a religious community,
. . . a religious center. About 30 people are devoting their lives and energies to a full-time pursuit of the Divinity through the sacrament of LSD. ([L04],293).

One of the people who lived there, Richard Alpert, later known as Baba Ram Dass, describes his spiritual journey in ([A04]) Be Here Now. His book greatly influenced the spiritual journey of myself and many others. Leary advocated using LSD to bring about mystical states of mind.
Drugs are the religion of the twenty-first century. Pursuing the religious life today without using psychedelic drugs is like studying astronomy with the naked eye . . . ([L04],44).

But some people felt Leary's estimation of LSD was not entirely accurate.
. . . Huxley, Alan Watts, and others . . . in their various writings imposed upon the psychedelic experience essentially Eastern ideas and terminology which a great many persons then assumed to be the sole and accurate way of approaching and interpreting such experience. ([M05],260).

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LSD and other psychedelic drugs enjoyed some popularity in the 1960-1970's during the "Hippie" era partly due to the efforts of Huxley, Watts, Leary and Alpert. Many people found the drugs didn't live up to their reputation as doorways to mystical experience. Psychedelic drugs induced all kinds of experience from beatific to hellish and anything in between. What had gone wrong? An answer may lie in the drug experiences of the poet, Allen Ginsberg, who had a non-drug religious experience in 1948 reading a poem by the mystic William Blake, and spent 15 years vainly trying to recapture it with LSD. His efforts not only failed, but were counterproductive.
Ginsberg found that . . . self-programming could create formidable psychic tensions often resulting in awful bummers. ([L06],110).

On one trip, he

. . . felt faced by Death, my skull . . . rolling back and forth . . . as if in reproduction of the last physical move I make before settling into real death - got nauseous, rushed out and began vomiting, all covered with snakes . . . I felt like a snake vomiting out the universe . . . ([B15],56).

Ginsberg eventually saw the attempt to control psychedelic trips was futile.
It's just like somebody taking acid and wanting to have a God trip and straining to see God, and instead, naturally, seeing all sorts of diabolical machines coming up around him, seeing hells instead of heavens. So I finally conclude that the bum trip on acid as well as the bum trip on normal consciousness came from attempting to grasp, desiring a preconceived end . . . ([L06],112).

Therapists who used psychedelic drugs in their practice before 1966 while it was still legal seemed to have reached a similar conclusion. For they
. . . simply sought to help subjects relax and remain open to the experience without defining what was supposed to occur. ([L06],109)

But psychedelic drugs had induced religious experiences in Huxley, Watts, and Leary. How could the same drugs give such different experiences? It was a well-known in the 1960's that "set and setting" influenced the drug experience. "Set" referred to a person's "mind set," their basic attitudes, character traits, education, etc. "Setting" referred to their environment while under the drug's influence. A night club could induce a very different experience than a beach. Huxley had a long-standing interest in spiritual matters, as witnessed by The Perennial Philosophy written over a decade before his mescaline experiments. Alan Watts had a masters in theology, a doctorate in 99

divinity, and was a professional philosopher. I believe I once read Leary had considered the priesthood in his youth. That such people would have religious drug experiences is perhaps not too surprising. And when they tried to describe their religious experiences, Eastern terminology would be a natural choice because Eastern religions have so much more to say about the God which is not a Person than Western religious thought. As Zaehner wrote of Leary:
Among the Eastern religions, then, he is drawn principally to the pantheism developed in ancient India by the authors of the Upanishads and to Taoism in China. In neither is God as a person relevant. ([Z01],73)

About 1964 Leary re-wrote the Tibetan Book of the Dead as The Psychedelic Experience ([L05]), an LSD tripping manual describing what was supposed to happen under the influence of LSD.
Leary now presented turning on as a process of initiation into a great brotherhood of free souls christened by the mind-blowing apprehension of the Clear Light during the peak of an acid trip. ([L06],109).

It's one thing to say mystical experience, or any other kind of experience, may occur under the influence of a drug; it is quite another thing to say it is supposed to happen. Based on Leary's writings, many people took psychedelic drugs to gain spiritual insights. The result seems to have been a repetition of Ginsberg's experience on a much larger scale.
It is as if (Leary) . . . polluted the stream at its source and gave half the kids in psychedelic society a bad set to start out with. Almost every acidhead I talked to for years afterwards told me he had, as a novice, used The Tibetan Book of the Dead as a "guide" - and every one of them reported unnecessary anxiety, colossal bummers, disillusionment, and eventual frustration and exasperation, for which, in most cases, they blamed themselves, not Tim or the book. ([K04],29).

There's an historical analogue to the story of psychedelic drugs and mystical experience. The ancient world had beer and wine but no "hard" liquor. When the distillation process was discovered about 1,000 years ago, some people were certain the thousand years of peace and plenty foretold in the Bible (Rev 20:1-7) when Christ would reign over the earth had arrived. Emotion Actions and Efforts Now let's turn to right actions and efforts which concern the emotions. Because the negative way seeks to reduce an Awareness's attachment to emotions, it places restrictions on social interaction. For example, some Christian monks are advised against ([P09],197)

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excessive talking, a habit which has been found to interfere with meditation, contemplation, and prayer. Similarly, Teresa recommended that
[a]s much as they can, the sisters should avoid a great deal of conversation with relatives . . . ([B04],129)

since

. . they will find it difficult to avoid talking to them about worldly things. ([B04],129).

And Buddha recommended the monk turn away from talk

. . . which is low, of the village, of the ordinary folk, . . . not connected with the goal, which does not conduce to . . . detachment nor to . . . calm nor to superknowledge nor to self-awakening . . . ([B10],156-7),

more specifically, talk about ([B10],157) thieves, great ministers, armies, battles, food, drink, clothes, relations, vehicles, towns, women, men, and streets. He recommended, instead, talk which is
. . . austere, . . . which conduces to . . . detachment, stopping, calm, super-knowledge, self awakening . . . ([B10],157).

Eliminating excessive talking is but one example of the withdrawal from society the negative way often involves. Some Christian monks are also advised against ([P09],237) pursuing friendships and associations with secular people. And, of course, cloistered and hermetical monks withdraw from society entirely. Sometimes, the seeker finds social withdrawal difficult, especially from family. Teresa, for example,
. . . recognized that for many the most difficult aspect of "detachment" . . . involved severing ties with family members. ([B04],128).

On the other hand, sometimes withdrawal is easy, even desperately desired. For at one point along the path, a seeker with an intense love of God may
. . . desire to shun like poison his wife and children and other relations, worldly connection with whom deflects him from the divine Lord; ([S01],366).

Ramakrishna once had this state of mind.

I could not then bear the very atmosphere of worldly people, and felt when in the company of relatives, as if my breath would stop and the soul leave the body. ([S01],366).

And perhaps Jesus referred to this state when he said:

If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life, also, he cannot be my disciple. (Mk 14:26,[H08]).

The companionship of the opposite sex is another area where social withdrawal can be difficult. Since the affective and sex drives are so strong, someone pursuing the negative way may have difficulty 101

giving them up. Drastic means, therefore, are often advised. Ramakrishna, for example, taught ([G03],874) a male monk should keep his distance from women, shouldn't talk to one, and shouldn't even look at picture of one. He also taught a man could conquer passion and lust ([G03],601,701) by "assuming the attitude of a woman". He himself, at one point, dressed like a woman! And some hesychast monks were taught to avoid, not only the sight of women, but ([M02],90) "youthful, beardless, and effeminate faces," as well. Reduced involvement with emotions and withdrawal from society may seem less than loving. Ideally, however, they're motivated by love for the Eternal, rather than hatred of people. Ideally, they're based on insight, not on a negative view of people. A few pitfalls are probably obvious. One pitfall is when involvement with emotions remains, but negative emotions replace positive ones. Underhill describes a mystic who viewed
. . . with almost murderous satisfaction the deaths of relatives who were "impediments." ([U01],216).

Hating, as much as loving, still involves the hater in duality. There's still emotional involvement. And moving from a loving concern of relatives to hatred can hardly be considered a step towards gnosis. To avoid this pitfall, a path would lead from the loving concern of the affirmative way to a transcendent indifference of the negative way, around, not through, the pitfall of hatred and aversion. Another pitfall is when other people are seen as evil, and derided, scorned, or shunned. Underhill describes a mystic whose idea of chastity included ([U01],216) shutting "himself in a cupboard for fear he should see his mother pass by". If avoiding the opposite sex is to remain healthy, it should be understood that the danger is one's own lust, not the other person. To a man who wishes to practice celibacy, a woman, particular a beautiful woman, is certainly a hindrance. But to her, he may be a similar hindrance. So the hindrance is not the other person but lust. Why? Lust, along with anger, envy, hatred, and other acknowledged vices, make entities with only relative existence seem quite real. Vices enmesh us more in the drama; this, in fact, is what makes them vices. So, a person's attitude becomes unhealthy when they see another person, rather than their own anger, lust, envy, hatred, greed, etc., as the problem. This attitude is similar to sour-grape disillusionment; it's based on an overly negative view of other people rather than insight. A healthy attitude may be easier to maintain in a help/hindrance system. A good/evil system, on the other hand, seems more liable to promote unhealthy attitudes. If I'm trying to be good and find someone else an impediment, then it's natural to feel that they must be evil. After all, if something is good, its opposite is evil. If I am of one 102

gender and those of my gender are good, so this thinking goes, then those of the other gender must be evil; if my race is good then other races must be evil. Since the affirmative way doesn't deny them but employs the emotions in the journey to gnosis, often directing them toward some God who is a Person, it's less likely to lead to emotional pitfalls, in particular unhealthy attitudes toward other people. Since its followers are often motivated by love of some God who is a Person, their attitudes tend to be healthier. In Christianity, for example, one is encouraged to live a virtuous life for the sake of Jesus who died for us. Love of Jesus is supposed to promote love of people in general. However, the love of God can lead to the pitfall of hatred of those who don't worship the same God, or who worship in a different way. Certainly, religion has motivated many wars, although political and economic factors often contributed too. Or such love may create a self-righteousness toward those who are not on as good terms with God as one supposes themselves to be. Or it may lead to a neglect of others. For doesn't every expensive religious meeting place and every gold religious object represent money which could have been better spent relieving hunger, disease, pain, and suffering? Intellectual Actions and Efforts Studying philosophy, metaphysics, or theology are intellectual acts which can help bring about experience of the Absolute. If the study is primarily undertaken to bring one closer to gnosis, then it's right effort. On the other hand, if the study is directed toward purely intellectual enlightenment, or to winning academic position or honors, then it's only right action. In either case, understanding the nature of things, ourselves and the world around us, can motivate a search for the Eternal. Moreover, some groups see a lack of true understanding of ourselves and the world around us as the main cause of suffering. In this view, we need to overcome not sin but ignorance "of the way things are." Buddha, for example, declared:
If ye could see things as they are, not as they appear, ye would no longer inflict injuries and pain on your own selves. ([C04],200).

And Buddhadasa declares ([B13],111) suffering is the result of acting inappropriately which in turn is the result of not understanding the "true nature" of things.
. . . [W]e are ignorant of the true nature of things; thus our behavior results in suffering. Buddhist practice is designed to teach us how things really are. ([B13],111)

Therefore it's designed to eliminate suffering as well. Some ancient, non-orthodox Christians called "Gnostics" also

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. . . insisted that ignorance, not sin, is what involves a person in suffering. . . . Both gnosticism and psychotherapy value, above all, knowledge - the selfknowledge which is insight. . . . [L]acking this, a person experiences the sense of being driven by impulses he does not understand. ([P01],149).

Of course, understanding presupposes a capable mind. Buddhists believe deep insight and understanding of the true nature of things comes easier to the calmed and controlled mind. Conversely, a turbulent mind and short attention span hinder understanding and insight. Television has been criticized for promoting a fickle, uncontrolled mind, incapable of sustained concentration. I don't know if Buddhist monks are advised against it, but at least one Christian spiritual director warns his monks that too much television, newspapers, magazines, and radio can ([P09],237) "deaden their sense of the supernatural." He also advises the curbing of indiscriminate intellectual curiosity and recommends instead a ([P09],237) "careful selection of worthwhile objects of knowledge." Intellectual discrimination should avoid the pitfall of overly depreciating learning and curiosity. For if curbing is taken to an extreme, then all secular learning may be scorned. As a result, the study of arts and sciences will probably decline. Since a scientific religion is a science as well as a religion, it would probably not thrive in an environment hostile to other sciences. In contrast, traditional religion may flourish in such an environment. It may even promote it. Dampier writes ([D01],65) that early Christians little valued secular learning for it own sake. In time,
Christian thought became antagonistic to secular learning, identifying it with the heathenism which Christians had set out to conquer. . . . [I]gnorance was exalted as a virtue. ([D01],65).

Perhaps as a result, Europe eventually lost much of its knowledge. During those "Dark Ages," the Christian religion peaked in power and prestige. And Thomas Kempis, fourteen hundred years into the Christian era, could write in an otherwise highly valuable Christian book
. . . there are many matters, knowledge of which brings little or no advantage to the soul. Indeed, a man is unwise if he occupies himself with any things save those that further his salvation. . . . Of what value are lengthy controversies on deep and obscure matters, when it is not by our knowledge of such things that we shall at length be judged? . . . [W]hat concern to us are such things as genera and species? ([K03],29-30).

The Best Motivation Someone has a detached attitude toward things because they believe

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the world is soon to end; another, because they seek detachment from things with relative existence, and attachment to the Real. Someone avoids society out of hatred for other people; another to pursue the negative way in solitude. Someone practices celibacy because they believe the other sex, or sexuality itself, is inherently evil, a doorway to hell; another, because they find celibacy a help to union with the One. Someone practices asceticism because they believe the world of matter, of body and things, evil; another, because they seek release from the drama. In each case, the action is similar, but the attitude is quite different. Excessive and erroneous beliefs can motivate actions and efforts helpful to union with the One. But anyone seeking the truth should, it seems, avoid them as a matter of principle. Moreover, even though they offer short-term gain, they may also entail long term loss. When the world fails to end as predicted, for example, the believer may lose faith entirely, in all things religious or spiritual. Yet, might not excessive or erroneous beliefs be better than nothing? Is it better to tread the spiritual path motivated by delusion than to live content, exclusively in the world of relative existence, lacking any goal beyond the physical, emotional and intellectual? I've met many people who apparently think it is. For they practice a religion half-heartedly. "You need something," they say. Or "Kids need something." It seems that a spiritual path followed under delusion or with skepticism is widely preferred to the natural world seen clearly. Yet there is another alternative. Someone may practice helps to gnosis because one finds them appealing, because they are naturally drawn to them. Moreover, this is clearly the very best motivation. That mystics have embraced practices such as silence, solitude, fasting, or chastity may seem odd, unnatural, even perverse. That they have eagerly embraced such practices - passionately desiring to achieve passionlessness, becoming deeply attached to unattachment may seem entirely unbelievable. (And paradoxical, as well. The paradox is acknowledged by the mystics themselves who explain with analogies such as "a thorn is used to remove another thorn, then both are thrown away" or "a boat is used to cross the river, then the boat is abandoned." Said Ramakrishna, "If you must desire, desire God.") Mystics often actively seek out apparently "unnatural" and "disagreeable" attitudes and activities. Why? What's unnatural for one person may be natural for another. Consider the following illustration. "Tom", an 8 year-old boy, has a 12 year-old brother, "Frank." Tom has recently noticed some peculiar changes in Frank. Formerly, Frank, like Tom, saw girls as mostly a nuisance. Tom and Frank once shared a mutual disgust of "icky" movie love scenes. Now Frank's eyes glaze over at such scenes. Frank 105

walks Nancy home from school every day and even carries her books. Tom doesn't understand what's happening to Frank; he hopes it's not contagious. What's happening, of course, is puberty. It happens to almost everyone. And it's not contagious even if you wish it was. Suppose Tom wanted to be just like his big brother. Suppose he tried to make his eyes glaze at movie love scenes. Suppose he walked little Sue home every day, and forced himself to talk to her an hour each night on the phone, just like Frank talks to Nancy. It wouldn't work, of course. Aping the actions of someone undergoing puberty wouldn't change Tom a bit. He just can't feel it yet. As Ramakrishna said:
One cannot explain the vision of God to others. One cannot explain conjugal happiness to a child five years old. ([P12],628).

Let's suppose, however, that puberty only happened to a few people; suppose it could happen at any age; suppose it was contagious, that it could be caught either from someone who had it, or by merely adopting appropriate attitudes and values; and suppose once you had it you could loose it if it wasn't nurtured. Then puberty would have much in common with spiritual awakening. Until the first birth into spiritual life, many things the mystics said and did, many of their attitudes toward God, themselves, and the world, are as mysterious to us as Frank's actions are to Tom. During our first awakening, however,
. . . the eye is opened on Eternity; the self, abruptly made aware of Reality, comes forth from the cave of illusion like a child from the womb and begins to live upon the supersensual plane. Then she feels in her inmost part a new presence, a new consciousness - it were hardly an exaggeration to say a new Person . . . ([U01],123). Man has two eyes. One only sees what moves in fleeting time, the other what is eternal and divine. ([B05],43).

The second eye is opened of which Angelus Silesius wrote:

Curiously, it's not uncommon for someone undergoing spiritual awakening to experience very advanced mystical states for a while. It's as if novice piano students often played like a master during their first few weeks of lessons, but later reverted to a beginners level. After awakening, the spiritual sight of the newly awakened, would-be mystic is
. . . weak, demanding nurture, clearly destined to pass through many phases of development before its maturity is reached . . . ([U01],123).

The mystic stands at the beginning of the path to God.

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The Path We've seen making gnosis, direct experience of Reality, a goal implies certain values. These values, in turn, imply a path. And someone seriously wanting such experience will order their lives accordingly. Yet, "path" and similar concepts such as "way," and "method" shouldn't be taken too literally. We've already seen practicing religion can't guarantee gnosis. Indeed, nothing we can do can compel gnosis. For experience of the Unconditioned is itself not conditioned, not obtainable through so many prayers or so many fasts, much less through taking a drug. It seems to happen freely, unforced. The experience is obtained only as a free gift. Nonetheless, many things promote experience of the Eternal. These things are like knocking at a locked door. The knocking doesn't, in and of itself, unlock and open the door. It does, however, show we want the door opened. Until we knock, there is no reason for anyone to open the door. Until someone opens the door, we can only repeat our knocking and wait. Often aspirants have had to knock for quite a long time before the door opened. Some, no doubt, gave up, deciding there was no one behind the door, that the door would never open. Yet, as we've seen, experience of the Eternal is possible, and, moreover, is experience of our very Self. This being the case, why should such experience be difficult to obtain? We previously saw Alan Watts' mythological, Vedantist description of creation. Here's his answer, also expressed in the form of myth.
Now when God plays hide and pretends that he is you and I, he does it so well that it takes him a long time to remember where and how he hid himself. But that's the whole fun of it - just what he wanted to do. He doesn't want to find himself too quickly, for that would spoil the game. That is why it is so difficult for you and me to find out that we are God in disguise, pretending not to be himself. ([W02],14).

14

- Union Chapter Summary: This chapter discusses the goal of spiritual paths: union with God. Various meditative methods that lead to such union are also discussed. Then, union itself and its consequences are

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explored. Right views, goals, actions, and efforts eventually lead to what Buddhist's call right mindfulness and right concentration. For us, right mindfulness will mean certain mental states conducive to gnosis. And right concentration will indicate first-hand experience of or union with the Eternal - gnosis. Right Mindfulness The process of achieving right mindfulness or right concentration is variously called contemplation or meditation since "meditation" and "contemplation" have opposite meanings in East and West. In the West, "contemplation" refers to gnosis, to right concentration. For example, in Western Mysticism Edward Butler writes:
Contemplation at its highest limit is identical with the mystical experience, and involves . . . an experimental perception of God's Being and Presence. ([B17],213).

"Meditation" refers to some sort of mental activity, for example reflecting on a biblical incident, a theological concept, or a doctrinal statement. (See [P09],421 for an example of this use of "meditation.") It's meant to lead to contemplation. In Eastern religious literature, the terms are reversed. "Meditation" refers to experiential perception of God, while "contemplation" means mental reflection. Basil Pennington, a Roman Catholic monk, describes ([P11],29) this confusing situation and decided to use "centering prayer" or simply "centering" for what's called "meditation" in the West and "contemplation" in the East. The term "centering" is quite compatible with our world view since experience of the Ultimate Ground of Existence is also experience of the Center. The term "centering prayer," however, is less general since prayer is religious. A secular person could think of drawing closer to the Center as a metaphysical, philosophical, but entirely non-religious process. For such a person, there's nothing inherently religious about consciousness becoming aware of itself (not "Itself" since they don't identify consciousness and deity). Similarly, a scientist might maintain becoming more directly aware of energy (again, not "Energy") is entirely secular. For such individuals, "centering" is the appropriate term. Yet, centering can be religious, and religions have often acknowledged its value. So, for some people, "centering prayer" is the more appropriate term. And for others, "centering meditation" is better. And for still others "centering" is preferable. I'll generally use "centering" to indicate all three. So "centering" indicates right mindfulness, a mostly mental process which seeks to promote experiential perception of what can be viewed religiously as God, or non-religiously as our own true Self.

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Centering Centering seeks to still the thoughts, emotions, and senses that so often occupy our Consciousness so that Awareness may become aware of Itself. The Christian saint Albert the Great described centering when he wrote:
When St. John says that God is a Spirit, and that He must be worshiped in spirit, he means that the mind must be cleared of all images. When thou prayest, shut thy door - that is, the doors of thy senses. Keep them barred and bolted against all phantasms and images. Nothing pleases God more than a mind free from all occupations and distractions. Such a mind is in a manner transformed into God, for it can think of nothing and love nothing, except God; other creatures and itself it only sees in God. He who penetrates into himself, and so transcends himself, ascents truly to God. . . . Leave thy body and fix thy gaze on the uncreated Light. Let nothing come between thee and God. ([J03],219).

How to still the body? In normal circumstances it's helpful if the body is fit. Aches and pains demand attention and capture awareness. So one aim of Hatha yoga is a fitness which prepares the body for centering. Of course, other types of exercise would also serve this purpose. If the body is fit, then sitting still and quiet in a comfortable position should allow awareness of the body to lessen. Yet aches and pains can be a powerful motivation for lessening body awareness. Someone with an ill body might find it harder to lose awareness of body, but be much more motivated to do so. How to still the emotions? Roman Catholicism defines ([N09],42) the "seven deadly sins" or "capital sins" as pride, covetousness, lust, anger, gluttony, envy, and sloth. Gluttony and sloth keep us aware of the body; the others, the emotions. So one task is to reduce the pride, covetousness, lust, anger, and envy which may surface in centering. Resolving such emotions is not only good psychologically but aids centering. How can we reduce them? That's one of the aims and results of a moral life. That's why moral virtues are one of the first steps of the path. Another task is reducing positive emotions which may surface in centering. Love of spouse or child, for example, should be put temporarily aside for a higher love, love of God. Later we'll see how Ramakrishna found even the love of a God who was a Person a barrier to the highest level of centering. If the body and emotions are quiet, then all remaining is to quiet the thoughts. The work of preparing the body and emotions are done

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in daily life. Although the work of controlling the mind can occur in daily life, too, it's usually done during centering. Therefore, the main goal of centering is often viewed as quieting the mind so that various levels of gnosis become accessible. Many books describe centering exercises. For example, The Relaxation Response ([B02]), written by an M.D., explains the health benefits of centering and d

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