Catch You if You Can

Several years ago, at the absolute depths of my personal crisis, a horrendous and hideous thought suddenly occurred to me: What if there is no God? What if this entire existence is … meaningless? What if all of the suffering and anguish and turmoil – not just within me, but in the world itself – is without purpose?

In observing my fellow human beings I’ve noticed that each of us – even the avowed atheists among us – behave as if something is watching us, is controlling the action, will, when all is said and done, right the wrongs and redistribute the goods. Karma, Heaven, the afterlife – something is keeping score and will leave a mint on the pillow when at last we are allowed to rest. Even as you read these words there quite likely is some part of you that feels as if it is playing a role in a script created by an omniscient being, the Big Director in the Sky, Yahweh, Allah, God.

But what if there is no hidden director, no script writer, no producer of this thing called existence? What if you really are utterly alone? What if there is no purpose, no meaning, no hidden agenda to life? What if “One” really is just that: absolute, unequivocal oneness, one without a second?

During my final journey with ayahuasca in the Peruvian Amazon, I – which is to say, my consciousness – came upon a small wooden bridge arched over a beautiful, lily-covered pond. At the top of that bridge stood a small white lotus (I know, cliche’d, isn’t it?) and suddenly my consciousness was transferred to the lotus – I became the lotus. No sooner did I become the lotus than I began to open and in that opening an immense realization – I cannot overstate its significance – swept over me and showed me that I was existence itself. I saw that I was everything, that nothing existed outside me, that I was “God” itself. It was so unexpected, so clear, so self-evident. A joy of indescribable magnitude filled me and I felt as if I would explode from the love. I saw that love was the very fabric of this thing called existence, that love was all there was, all there had ever been, and that there was no room for anything else.

Just as quickly (“time” being relative here since the experience lasted hours but seemed to unfold almost instantly) another realization took its place, a sense of profound loneliness. Concomitant with being the source of all came the recognition of being utterly alone. I was love itself, joy beyond description, and yet with whom could I share that joy and love? It was a terrible paradox. As the ayahuasca wore off, as I staggered to my feet in the ceremonial house and gazed around at my fellow participants, I experienced such gratitude for their presence, real love just for their beingness. And the thought occurred to me, “Maybe this is what is meant by God creating the universe so that God might experience the joy of Itself.” I was God (by this definition, we all are) and paradoxically I was one of God’s creations – we are imagined seconds to the One.

In the Book of Thomas Jesus said of those looking for their true nature: “Those who seek should not stop seeking until they find. When they find, they will be disturbed. When they are disturbed, they will marvel and will reign over all. And after they have reigned they will rest.”

Interestingly, descriptions from those said to have “awakened” are remarkably consistent: There is a falling away of the self, a terrible (or sometimes comical) recognition of life – of all existence – being utterly without meaning or purpose. In Steven Norquist’s brutal description of his own awakening in “Haunted Universe: The True Knowledge of Enlightenment,” there is annihilation of the self, of the world, of everything he imagined to be meaningful and real beginning with himself. When they find they will be disturbed.

Then Norquist goes on to explain that as the self – as “I” – vanished from the scene and takes with it any sense that it ever existed, there is a profound peace (after all, if there is no me, there is no suffering, no want, no need, etc.). They will marvel and will reign over all.

Finally, Norquist likens the awakening to rest, to deepest sleep, to the Void of no-thingness. And after they have reigned they will rest.

The Buddha told us, “Life is suffering,” and that suffering is made evident by our constant search for something to make us feel whole, complete, done. In essence, our suffering is made evident by that searching. You may not feel as if you are suffering at this moment, but when you look more closely the suffering becomes obvious. There is not a moment of your existence that you are not searching and in so doing suffering.

But if, as Jesus and his ilk advised, we at last undertake the ultimate search – the search for that which is at the root of all that searching – who or what do we find?