Post by Figgles on May 19, 2017 19:35:10 GMT
May 19, 2017 8:32:38 GMT Anja said:
I'll try to make it as short as possible to adress your points although I could write an essay as a response, or maybe two.
Why (what for) does the author Jed McKenna prefer to stay unknown/hidden? I asked this question myself too and when you take into consideration that he is Bill Hicks, it becomes perfectely clear and logical: He is dead. He can't come out and proclaim, "Hey! I'm Bill Hicks! I faked my death because I was running out of options as a warrior and now I'm a writer of spiritual books claiming to be enlightend. Ask me anything, dudes." So IF Jed McKenna is Bill Hicks, it makes sense and is perfectely logical that he don't want to be known publically. One might want to ask, "why not? Why not admitting he faked his death?" And the answer is: Because the one who really, really wants to know who Jed McKenna is, by inquiring hard enough for the right reasons, will figure it out in the end. That's what truth seeking is about.
Okay yes, but there is a Big "If" attached to that, from where I currently sit. I'd have to look deeper to even have a very strong opinion on the matter. For starters I'm not all too familiar with Bill Hicks. If I have some time, might check him out further.
When Jed McKenna says, "I don't do heat", he means that he does not care for those who look for love or being loved by some sort of guru/teacher/saint/sage figure.
If it were just that, I'd wholeheartedly agree. Through reading his books, it's pretty clear his 'not doing heart' assertion goes much deeper than that. Whereas some see enlightenment as going hand in hand with an opening of the heart, he sees 'heart' and antithetical to enlightenment.
And like Jed, When I speak of "Love" and "heart" here, it is something far more encompassing and much, much deeper than a mere 'caring for those looking for a sense of belonging' or that kind of thing.
If I remember it right, the meeting with his sister is not part of any book.
It is actually....I think it was in his first,but I may be wrong. But there's no doubt, it was in one of them...it was one of the things that turned my opinion to strongest. AS I saw it, a brand of enlightenment that has you feeling so distant so as to be 'separated' from a family member you've grown up with, is one that is missing something very important.
Jed McKenna:Visiting your sister and having lunch shouldn't be a confusing ordeal, but it is. Is she really my sister? What does that mean? We share some history and acquaintances, such as childhood and parents. Are my parents really my parents? Genetically they are related to my body, but the person who lived my childhood is no longer here. The past I share with this person is about as real and important to me as if I'd read it in a brochure.
The problem is that these people, my family, are all related to my shell, and I'm not. They're looking at the outer Jed McKenna and assuming an inner Jed McKenna. I'm inside Jed McKenna looking out and I can't really remember what he's supposed to do or say. It's all fakery. I'm an actor playing a role for which I feel no connection and have no motivation. There cannot be anything genuine in my dealings with people who are dealing with my outer garment. (The whole thing is further entangled by the fact that there's no "I" inhabiting my shell, just a fading echo, but let's not go down that road just now.)
Actually, it's not really confusing. I possess not the least shred of doubt about who and what I am. The tricky thing is that who and what I am is not related to this pretty, professional, salad-eating woman across from me. By coming to this lunch I have inserted myself into a situation where I do not belong. I am an imposter. I have some residual fondness for my sister and if she died I'd be saddened to think that she was no longer in the world, but the simple fact is that our former relationship no longer exists.
Okay, so why am I telling you this?
Because that's what I do. I try to hold this enlightenment thing up for display and this seems like an interesting aspect of the whole deal. How do you relate to the people who were most important to you before awakening from the dream of the segregated self?.....
.......She resumes chewing but the wide-eyed gaze remains. There's a chasm in this conversation across which there's no point trying to communicate. She knows I'm into some serious weirdness, but not how much or what kind. I don't really have astrologers, of course, but in those days it did seem like I was surrounded by students of Eastern and Western astrology who were always very eager to share their readings.
"What do you do with all that information?"
"Me? Nothing. I mean, I don't ask for it. It's not like I wake up and summon the court astrologers to plan my day."
"Sounds like you do."
"I was speaking lightly."
I'm trying to skip playfully along the surface of this conversation. I don't want to sink down into the kind of answer I'd give a serious student. The truth is that I don't possess any mechanism that would allow me to be curious or concerned about the future, but saying that doesn't make for breezy conversation.
"Jesus," she says, shaking her head. "My little brother has his own astrologers."
"Well, they're not really mine. They're just in attendance, so to speak."
I'm used to conversing with people who aren't awake and aren't happy about it. Everything else is chit-chat; talking for the sake of talking, reinforcing the illusion of self. I'm not against it, I just don't care to participate in it. My fault.
"So, you obviously have a great deal of influence over your students," she says as she sips her iced tea. I mull her statement over and decide that I don't have a response. I take another bite of pasta, wishing I'd ordered something with meat.
"I mean," she says, "they obviously hold you in very high regard. That's quite a responsibility."
She thinks, quite understandably, that she's my big sister and we're having a reunion; a nice little catch-up lunch. She's been thrown a curve with this little-brother/spiritual-master thing and she's trying to handle it. Does she think I'm a fraud? Does she think I'm running a game? Does she think that underneath it all I'm still really her little brother? I don't know and I don't much care. The fact that she's read Damnedest doesn't mean that she and I can speak; it means she should know we can't. She doesn't seem to be clear on that. Maybe she thinks the enlightenment thing is just my day job and that I can step out of that role to be with someone who knows the real me.
"I don't know. I suppose it's a responsibility."
"You don't know? Obviously these people are strongly influenced by you. You don't think that's a big responsibility?"
I shrug. The first thing she said to me when we got together was that I wasn't dressed well enough for the restaurant. Such a statement is so alien to me that I could only shrug. Now it seems that every statement she makes is so alien to me that I can only shrug.
In accepting this lunch engagement, my hope was that I could slip back into my old persona enough to manage a civil meal. That was too hopeful. I can no longer impersonate myself and I am simply unable to formulate a reply to anything she has to say; I've forgotten my lines. We don't share a common tongue and there's no way I can make her see that. From her point of view she's saying perfectly normal, conversational things.
"Yes, I suppose it's a big responsibility," I say, trying to say something that sounds like I'm saying something.
She lowers her voice. "You hear a lot about people in your position taking advantage of that responsibility for... unsavory purposes. I hope you would never do something like that."
I could simply tell her what the preview copy of the book was meant to tell her, that we are no longer related because what I am now doesn't relate. But why say it? To satisfy myself? It wouldn't. To inform her? It wouldn't.
"You mean sex stuff? That sort of thing?"
"Whatever. Power corrupts. I just hope you'll be careful."
Sweet. Big sister giving little brother some advice on how to shoulder the burden of power. Being in advertising, perhaps she thinks we have something in common; wielding the power to influence people's thoughts. Maybe she thinks we're in the same business, I don't know.
I set down my fork and sit back. "Well, when I walk through the house, I always have someone proceed me with a boom-box playing Darth Vader theme music to lend a weighty and ominous air to my approach. And I certainly don't dress like this. I have, you know, the robes, the beads, and I always carry fresh flowers. Just trappings, all very tiresome, really, but the minions expect it. There was a little resistance at first to having them call me Shri Shri Shri Shri Jed, but they got the hang of it. And remembering to speak in the first person plural there and singular here can take a little getting used to, but we are, I mean, uh, I am, happy to make the effort. Noblesse oblige and all."
She stares at me for a moment, then bursts into laughter. I guess some ice has broken because we are able to continue in a lighter and friendlier manner, and eventually say goodbye with genuine fondness.
I doubt I'll ever see her again, but I'm happy knowing she's still in the world.
The problem is that these people, my family, are all related to my shell, and I'm not. They're looking at the outer Jed McKenna and assuming an inner Jed McKenna. I'm inside Jed McKenna looking out and I can't really remember what he's supposed to do or say. It's all fakery. I'm an actor playing a role for which I feel no connection and have no motivation. There cannot be anything genuine in my dealings with people who are dealing with my outer garment. (The whole thing is further entangled by the fact that there's no "I" inhabiting my shell, just a fading echo, but let's not go down that road just now.)
Actually, it's not really confusing. I possess not the least shred of doubt about who and what I am. The tricky thing is that who and what I am is not related to this pretty, professional, salad-eating woman across from me. By coming to this lunch I have inserted myself into a situation where I do not belong. I am an imposter. I have some residual fondness for my sister and if she died I'd be saddened to think that she was no longer in the world, but the simple fact is that our former relationship no longer exists.
Okay, so why am I telling you this?
Because that's what I do. I try to hold this enlightenment thing up for display and this seems like an interesting aspect of the whole deal. How do you relate to the people who were most important to you before awakening from the dream of the segregated self?.....
.......She resumes chewing but the wide-eyed gaze remains. There's a chasm in this conversation across which there's no point trying to communicate. She knows I'm into some serious weirdness, but not how much or what kind. I don't really have astrologers, of course, but in those days it did seem like I was surrounded by students of Eastern and Western astrology who were always very eager to share their readings.
"What do you do with all that information?"
"Me? Nothing. I mean, I don't ask for it. It's not like I wake up and summon the court astrologers to plan my day."
"Sounds like you do."
"I was speaking lightly."
I'm trying to skip playfully along the surface of this conversation. I don't want to sink down into the kind of answer I'd give a serious student. The truth is that I don't possess any mechanism that would allow me to be curious or concerned about the future, but saying that doesn't make for breezy conversation.
"Jesus," she says, shaking her head. "My little brother has his own astrologers."
"Well, they're not really mine. They're just in attendance, so to speak."
I'm used to conversing with people who aren't awake and aren't happy about it. Everything else is chit-chat; talking for the sake of talking, reinforcing the illusion of self. I'm not against it, I just don't care to participate in it. My fault.
"So, you obviously have a great deal of influence over your students," she says as she sips her iced tea. I mull her statement over and decide that I don't have a response. I take another bite of pasta, wishing I'd ordered something with meat.
"I mean," she says, "they obviously hold you in very high regard. That's quite a responsibility."
She thinks, quite understandably, that she's my big sister and we're having a reunion; a nice little catch-up lunch. She's been thrown a curve with this little-brother/spiritual-master thing and she's trying to handle it. Does she think I'm a fraud? Does she think I'm running a game? Does she think that underneath it all I'm still really her little brother? I don't know and I don't much care. The fact that she's read Damnedest doesn't mean that she and I can speak; it means she should know we can't. She doesn't seem to be clear on that. Maybe she thinks the enlightenment thing is just my day job and that I can step out of that role to be with someone who knows the real me.
"I don't know. I suppose it's a responsibility."
"You don't know? Obviously these people are strongly influenced by you. You don't think that's a big responsibility?"
I shrug. The first thing she said to me when we got together was that I wasn't dressed well enough for the restaurant. Such a statement is so alien to me that I could only shrug. Now it seems that every statement she makes is so alien to me that I can only shrug.
In accepting this lunch engagement, my hope was that I could slip back into my old persona enough to manage a civil meal. That was too hopeful. I can no longer impersonate myself and I am simply unable to formulate a reply to anything she has to say; I've forgotten my lines. We don't share a common tongue and there's no way I can make her see that. From her point of view she's saying perfectly normal, conversational things.
"Yes, I suppose it's a big responsibility," I say, trying to say something that sounds like I'm saying something.
She lowers her voice. "You hear a lot about people in your position taking advantage of that responsibility for... unsavory purposes. I hope you would never do something like that."
I could simply tell her what the preview copy of the book was meant to tell her, that we are no longer related because what I am now doesn't relate. But why say it? To satisfy myself? It wouldn't. To inform her? It wouldn't.
"You mean sex stuff? That sort of thing?"
"Whatever. Power corrupts. I just hope you'll be careful."
Sweet. Big sister giving little brother some advice on how to shoulder the burden of power. Being in advertising, perhaps she thinks we have something in common; wielding the power to influence people's thoughts. Maybe she thinks we're in the same business, I don't know.
I set down my fork and sit back. "Well, when I walk through the house, I always have someone proceed me with a boom-box playing Darth Vader theme music to lend a weighty and ominous air to my approach. And I certainly don't dress like this. I have, you know, the robes, the beads, and I always carry fresh flowers. Just trappings, all very tiresome, really, but the minions expect it. There was a little resistance at first to having them call me Shri Shri Shri Shri Jed, but they got the hang of it. And remembering to speak in the first person plural there and singular here can take a little getting used to, but we are, I mean, uh, I am, happy to make the effort. Noblesse oblige and all."
She stares at me for a moment, then bursts into laughter. I guess some ice has broken because we are able to continue in a lighter and friendlier manner, and eventually say goodbye with genuine fondness.
I doubt I'll ever see her again, but I'm happy knowing she's still in the world.
There are many ideas/concepts/explainations about what "enlightenment" might be all about. Your take, Figgles, seem to be that one becomes more loving and more compassionate and Jed McKenna's take is just the opposite.
Yes. When you no longer have so many strong beefs with 'the world,' in general, love is what naturally arises. It is ideas/beliefs about 'wrongness' that block the flow of Love. If the above exchange with his sister, was Absent the thoughts swirling through Jed's head about how different he is from her and how she is engaging someone who is no longer there, he could simply have been present to the exchange, absent all the judgement. It is in that absence...that Love flows.
Because it does not change a thing to love those who love their prison cells more than truth. They like it like that. They only want bigger cells and better food. That's all. And caring for them, helping them to archive their goals, is wasting ones time and energy with solving minor (basically unimportant) problems. That is his message, I think. Therefore, "I don't do heart."
In my experience, Love, appreciation, acceptance, that flows unimpeded has a way of illuminating the entire situation. There is a difference between loving and accepting someone where they currently sit, vs. helping them to anchor there. Love is transformational. Judgement, and eschewing those who don't measure up..? Not so much.
I think third mountain, where mountains are mountains again, is like "being in the world of not off the world". Dispassionately fully engaging in worldly affairs, pretending to be as normal and regular as anybody else while being completely detouched at the same time. Playing a given role as good as possible, knowing it is jsut a role and not more but also not less. "I don't do heart", means: I feel you but that does not make me react to your stuff because I can see/recognize stuff as (mere) stuff. Meet me on the other side. See you there. Untill then: Further."
yes, I see 3rd mountain similarly, but again, we are interpreting "I don't do heart," somewhat differently. Truly allowing love to flow in a circumstance where the other is neck deep in her stuff, does not mean reacting to her stuff. You can remain non-reactionary, and still Love deeply, in fact, I would say, it's 'reacting to stuff' that actually get in the way and impedes the natural Flow of Love, that is really always there, just obscured at times.
