Silent Musings

I read a comment somewhere recently that got me to thinking about the comparative process of the human mind. Does the mind do anything else other than compare? If it does, I wouldn’t know.

For several years throughout this spiritual journey we call life, I harbored significant amounts of concern over the quality of my state of being. Was I taking the right steps toward enlightenment? Was my consciousness “high” on the human scale. Would I make a notable difference to others? Today, such concerns just seem so ridiculous. The only thing that is obviously clear is that “I” am made of the same dirt as everyone and everything else. Ashes to ashes.

Paradoxically it seems, unless we are blessed with the grace to be born and raised without such discriminating concerns, we must all go through various forms of self assessment and notions of improvement. I can’t think of a single culture that doesn’t have this motivation as a core principle. And yet, where does it all lead?

A wise man I know once said that in a million billion years when the cockroaches rule the earth, and the day comes to recognize significant occurrences throughout the universe, your name and mine won’t be mentioned. And yet I assert that the folly of seeking to be more, better, or best is even more acute than accounts of history can demonstrate. If you don’t believe me, take a look right now. What brings you joy? Where and when does freedom arise? Who are you? Don’t settle for answers other than your own; reject (or at least suspect) mine or anyone else’s. If you examine these questions deeply enough, you’ll see something beneath the shiny cultural veneer. Or perhaps you already have.

You may still think that “higher” beings exist, that somehow they have mastered life in ways you can only imagine. Swami Rama supposedly could meditate so deeply that his breathing would stop for several minutes at a time, and his heartbeat would go as low as 10-15 per minute. Even if I could ever achieve such yogic feats, I certainly could never dunk a basketball like Michael Jordan. Too bad, because I hear the pay is pretty good.

Do such comparisons really amount to anything more than machinations of the monkey mind? Does our relative ordinariness make us any less beautiful, important, or unique? I don’t think so. And truthfully, it doesn’t even matter what I think. In any case, Swami Rama is dead now, and Michael Jordan is well into his retirement, and I seriously doubt the cockroaches will be calling their names on reckoning day either.