"If You Think You Understand Spirituality . . ."

Spirituality is a lot like quantum mechanics. The experience of higher consciousness - those moments when we lose our sense of individuality, of "ego" or "self" - may be described in the same way quantum mechanics was described by renowned quantum theorist, Richard Feynman: it's sort of "spooky." Equally, it confounds one's ability to describe it, or to "know" perfectly just what it is we are "observing" or "experiencing."

Perhaps this is why the "Infinite," the "Absolute," or "God" have so often been described as "the ineffable," literally beyond verbal description. Or, perhaps no matter how deeply we look - whatever experience of ever-purer consciousness we reach - there is yet another 'deeper' level that may be achievable. Certainly, this is what the eminent 20th-century theologian, Paul Tillich meant when he talked of the "depth of our existence."

"The wisdom of all ages and of all continents speaks about the road to our depth. It has been described in innumerably different ways. But all those who have been concerned - mystics and priests, poets and philosophers, simple people and educated - with that road through confession, lonely self-scrutiny, internal or external catastrophes, prayer, contemplation, have witnessed to the same experience. They have found they are not what what they  believed themselves to be, even after a deeper level had appeared to them below the vanishing surface. That deeper level itself became surface, when a still deeper level was discovered, this happening again and again, as long as their lives, as long as they kept on the road to their depth. . . .

The name of this infinite and inexhaustible depth and ground of all being is God. That depth is what the word God means. . . . For if you know that God means depth, you know much about him. You cannot then call yourself an atheist or an unbeliever. For you cannot think or say: Life has no depth! Life itself is shallow. If you could say this in complete seriousness, you would be an atheist; but otherwise you are not. He who knows about depth knows about God." (Paul Tillich, "Shaking The Foundations," Scribners, New York: 1948, pp. 56-57.)

Paul Tillich (1886-1965)

Similarly, it is how Richard Feynman describes his work in science. Probing ever further into "what the world is," always expecting (or perhaps knowing 'intuitively') that there is a still further depth of knowledge to be revealed in an ever-unravelling understanding of both the macrocosmic and the microcosmic nature of our 'reality.'




Both Tillich and Feynman - physicist and metaphysicist - challenge us to look at the depth of our knowledge, the depth of our experience and, yes, the depth of our consciousness. And both urge us to do so without prejudice as to what we might find

Thich Nhat Hahn (b. 1926)

Of course, this is what the Buddha also said 2500 years ago, when he urged us not to believe him, but to see for ourselves, to be witnesses to our own experience of the depth of our consciousness, and to do so without dogmatism or preformed beliefs.

As the much-admired Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh, so eloquently explains, we are all called to explore the depth of our worldview, and in so doing, to look into the depth of our existence. Hahn notes:

"We each have a view of the universe. That view may be called relativity or uncertainty or probability or string theory; there may be many kinds of view. It's okay to propose views, but if you want to make progress on the path of inquiry, you should be able to be ready to throw away your view. It's like climbing a ladder, coming to the fifth rung, and thinking you're on the highest rung. That idea prevents you from climbing to the sixth rung, and the seventh rung. So in order to come to the sixth and the seventh, you have to release the fifth. That is the process of learning proposed by the Buddha. Buddhism fully practiced is free from dogmatism. If you worship something as a dogma, as absolute truth, you are not a good practitioner. You must be totally free; even from the teachings of the Buddha. The teachings of the Buddha are offered as instruments, not as absolute truth. (Emphasis added.) Thich Nhat Hanh, "Beyond the Self: Teachings on the Middle Way," Parralax Press, Berkeley CA: 2010, pp. 14-15.)

The point is that spirituality like science is in essence a non-ending quest. As Richard Feynman famously said, "If you think you understand quantum mechanics, you don't understand quantum mechanics." Similarly, perhaps it can be said that: "If you think you understand spiritually and the depth of consciousness, you don't understand spiritually and the depth of consciousness."

Nature of the Ego: "Lions All Around Us"

In one of the best lectures I have had the pleasure of attending, Dr. Bruce Perry (a devlopmental neurobiologist) spoke of humankind's evolutionary context as hunter gatherers in an environment where stressor events were intense but far between. Someone would shout, "Lion!." and the 'wary' lived to pass their genes on to the next generation. The 'slow' were an evolutionary dead-end . . . i.e., lunch.

His point, however, was that our bodies and brains have not evolved significantly since then (except, perhaps, for the weeding out of the slow and tasty). As a result, we go through our modern life with a huge volume of stimuli that we "need" to pay attention to - co-workers, cell phones, traffic, bill statements etc., and our psyches are screaming, "Lion! . . , Lion! . . . Lion!," on a more or less continual basis. As it turns out, we are not really built for the way that we now live.

Modern humankind therefore tends to be in an almost continual "fight or flight" modality, with little time in the "rest and digest" mode where we formerly spent the vast majority of our time, evolutionally speaking. (Indeed, studies of modern hunter-gatherers show they spend very little time foraging and a great deal of time sleeping.) The result of all this? It appears to be a mind in a perpetual state of alert motion, ever searching for (or manufacturing) "something" that requires our further attention and further thought. This "mind" is, of course, the human "ego" (or small "self") that we mistake for our only identity, and an 'individuality' that is separate and apart from everything and everyone in the outer world.

And, of course, "the ego" is always restless, looking for lurking "dangers" and for opportunities to gratify its instincts. (As such, it is small wonder that virtually all the "news" we consume is bad news, and "sex" still "sells," no matter who is doing the peddling or what is being peddled.)

In a now classic translation and commentary of Patangali's 'Yoga Aphorisms,' Christopher Isherwood and Swami Prabhavananda (of the Ramakrishna Order, now the Vedanta Society) discuss the operation of the unawakened mind of modern man, noting:

"The truth is that we are all inclined to flatter ourselves - despite our daily experience to the contrary - that we spend our time thinking logical, consecutive thoughts. In fact, if at any given moment, we could take twenty human minds and inspect their workings, we should probably find one, or at most two which were functioning rationally. Most of us do no such thing. Consecutive thought about any one problem occupies a small portion of our waking hours. More usually, we are in a state of reverie - a mental fog of disconnected sense impressions, irrelevant memories, nonsensical scraps of sentences from books and newspapers, little darting fears and resentments, physical sensations of discomfort or ease. The remaining eighteen or nineteen minds would look something like this: "Ink-bottle. That time I saw Roosevelt. In love with the night mysterious. Reds veto Pact. Jimmy's trying to get my job. Mary says I'm fat. Big toe hurts. Soup good. . . ." etc., etc. Because we do nothing to control this reverie, it is largely conditioned by external circumstances."

This was written in 1953, long before the true beginning of the Information Age, with its multiple demands - human and electronic - for our attention playing through our psyches, turning the gentler "reverie" that Isherwood and Prabhavananda describe into a mental landscape of, "Lions, lions . . . everywhere, and never a moment of peace."

There seem to be two conclusions, and one synthesis of conclusions, that one can draw from this. Either the human mindscape (and thus the "reality" we create for ourselves) is getting much worse; or, because of an increasing (and, not uncoincidentally, interconnected)  awareness of the inner mental disharmony our global culture creates, things are getting much better.

The synthesis, paradoxically, is that things appear to be getting both much better and much worse simultaneously. And, as Eckhart Tolle observes in an audio interview (below) which he gave on the afternoon of 9/11/2001, "Even the Sun Will Die," things have to get worse in order for them to get better.



Tolle and other spiritual teaches, both now and in ages past, all say that there is a tipping point, a 'critical mass' of consciousness, so to speak. Hopefully, as they predict, we are nearing a point where the collective consciousness of individuals who are "awake" and not in a state of "reverie" will trigger a global awakening. Certainly, with the interconnectedness that virtually all of humankind now has at least some access to, when (not if) this occurs, it will be very rapid and, one suspects, astonishing spiritual awakening.

Werner Heisenberg on "The Spirit of Modern Physics"

See also: "Einstein on Spirituality and Religion."

In his Introduction to Nobel Prize-winning physicist, Werner Heisenberg's "Physics and Philosophy: The Revolution in Modern Science, David Lindley observes that, "despite its thorough familiarity, most physicists, if pressed, will admit to finding something strange, something mysterious, something not quite graspable about quantum mechanics."

Just how an "observer" and an "observation" somehow trigger a quantum 'event' and so form the basic substrate of our physical 'reality' appears to be intrically connected with matters of consciousness and perception, making leading edge science not only stranger than we believe, but perhaps even stranger than we can believe - a point made by Richard Dawkins, one of today's leading voices of 'evangelical atheism.' As renowned physicist Richard Feynman wryly observed, "Anyone who thinks they understand quantum mechanics, does not understand quantum mechanics."

Werner Heisenberg was one of the 'fathers' of quantum theory. He first developed and postulated the "Uncertainty Principle" that often bears his name and that demonstrates one can only know either the position or the frequency of a particle at any one time with precision, but not both - a notion that is completely antithetical to classic Newtonian mechanics.

Heisenberg frames the fundamental 'strangeness' and 'unfathomability' of the most basic operations of physics and, thus, our 'reality' in 'spiritual,' almost 'mystical' terms. In 1958, writing in the dark shadow of the development of the hydrogen bomb, Heisenberg recounts how quantum theory was first developed and elaborated, observing that:

". . . (E)very tool carries with it the spirit by which it has been created. Since every nation and every political group has to be interested in the new weapons, irrespective of the location and the cultural traditions of the group, the spirit of modern physics will penetrate into the minds of many people and will connect itself in different ways with the older traditions. What will be the outcome of this impact of a special branch of modern science on different powerful old traditions? In those parts of the world in which modern science has been developed the primary interest has been directed for a long time toward practical activity, industry and engineering combined with a rational analysis of the outer and inner conditions for such activity. Such people will find it rather easy to cope with the new ideas since they have had time for a slow and gradual adjustment to the modern scientific methods of thinking. In other parts of the world these ideas would be confronted with the religious and philosophic foundations of the native culture. Since it is true that the results of modern physics do touch such fundamental concepts as reality, space and time, the confrontation may lead to entirely new developments that cannot yet be foreseen. One characteristic feature of this meeting between modern science and the older methods of thinking will be its complete internationality. In this exchange of thoughts one side will be the same everywhere and therefore the results of this exchange will be spread over all areas in which the discussion takes place.

Werner Heisenberg (1901-1976)

Of course, with the advent of the Information Age, and a potential for the sharing of information, ideas and insights which Heisenberg could only possibly dream of, this exchange of thoughts between West and East is the norm, rather than the rare exception to the old adage, "East is East, and West is West, but never the 'twains shall meet."

One cannot help but think that it is this "exchange" between a Western scientific vision that can be 'explained but not really known,' with a millenia-old tradition of Eastern wisdom teachings which can be 'known but not really explained,' that is driving a seemingly global thirst for spirituality insights and wisdom teachings both old and new, both Eastern and Western.

Spiritual Experience versus Religious Belief

"Spiritual . . . But Not Religious" on tumblr

When I say that I am "spiritual but not religious," it is not to say that I have conflict with any outwardly religious tradition or particular teachings, nor do I point (as many do) to the 'religious' wars that seem to be a sustained motif of violent conflict through out all ages - yet, I suspect, if peoples did not fight over religion, war would just be 'justified' in different terms. Rather, it is simply that I am intensely interested in the "inner" spiritual (or religious) "experience," but not in the "outer" content and forms of religions, except to the extent they are used to produce higher spiritual experiences and/or higher states of consciousness.

In a recent issue of Psychology Today, writer Massimo Pigliucci asks "what, exactly, does it mean to be "spiritual but not religious," or for that matter, just plain "spiritual?" Unfortunately, of the three possible alternatives Pigliucci examines, none of them differentiate between 'inner' religious or spiritual experience and 'outer' religious observance, ritual or identification.

Pigliucci postulates that the descriptor "spiritual but not religious'" popularly utilized in any number of research studies, opinion polls and social media sites could mean either: (a) that the person so described believes in "spirits' a rather pinched and narrow view, even Pigliucci suspects (b) one who devotes part of her time and energy to cultivate her "spirit," as opposed to just being concerned with "material" things, or, finally (c) someone who takes care of cultivating and reflecting on his ethics, of behaving justly and compassionately toward his fellow human beings, and of nurturing his aesthetic sense through arts and letters.

I feel that none of these give a whole picture or descriptios of what it means to be "spiritual but not religious." I flatter myself that I am a very 'spiritual', and rather narrowly limited 'religious person.' I seek an inner religious/spiritual experience that will improve my ability to realize higher states of consciousnsess and awareness. Pigliucci's first possibility, even he rejects; while his third category, cultivating ethics and acting compassionately - which may, perhaps, be a byproduct of spiritual or religious practice - can be equally descriptive of the true religionist, agnostic or atheist alike.

For more on 'Higher Consciousness'
check out: ". . . tran.ZEN.dance. . ."

I am "spiritual but not religious" because one's adherence to 'outer religions,' while they provide much good to virtually all of their adherents (saving, perhaps, those who become ravingly "fundamentalist" in their beliefs and actions), does not necessarily indicate one is seeking an 'inner' religious or spiritual experience. If I found that adherence to one particular faith, denomination or creed would provide me with a shortcut to the attainment of the highest 'inner religious' or 'spiritual experience' I would likely join it. Yet, I have seen no evidence that this is the case for anyone. Rather, all wisdom traditions and religions throughout the world and throughout all times seem to have triggered such inner awakenings in at least some of their adherents.

Not surprisingly, as on the big questions of consciousness the perspective of Psychology Today temds to fall into the paradgmatic materialist/empiricist camp, giving little credence to intuitive and subjective studies, a more balanced viewpoint may be found in a Beliefnet.com excerpt of Robert Fuller's new work, "Spiritual but Not Religious."

"The increasing prestige of the mind sciences, the insights of modern biblical scholarship, and greater awareness of cultural relativism," Fuller writes, have "all made it more difficult for educated Americans to sustain unqualified loyalty to religious institutions." Fuller's thesis is that many Americans (and by extension most Westerners), have begun "to associate genuine faith with the 'private' realm of personal experience rather than with the 'public' realm of institutions, creeds, and rituals." As this trend grew, he notes, even "(t)he word spiritual gradually came to be associated with a private realm of thought and experience while the word religious came to be connected with the public realm of membership in religious institutions, participation in formal rituals, and adherence to official denominational doctrines."

William James (1842-1910)

Sadly, 'outer' religious rituals and forms need not be antithetical to deep 'inner' religious or spiritual experience, a point made by William James in "The Varieties of Religious Experience." 'Inner' and 'outer' religious experience are not antithetical to one another, it is just that the latter is not prdictive other, and one suspects that the correlation is very, very low. at least in traditional Western religious movements. One suspects there may be a higher correlation in the Eastern wisdom traditions, which would partially explain their rising popularity amongst Westerners apt to describe themselves as "Spiritual but not religious."

Yet, as Fuller eloquently concludes in his excerpted article, 'inner' spiritual (and dare I say, 'inner religious') experience is a nearly universal, if almost wholly unrecognized, phenomena. He rightly observes that "(w)e encounter spiritual issues every time we wonder where the universe comes from, why we are here, or what happens when we die. We also become spiritual when we become moved by values such as beauty, love, or creativity that seem to reveal a meaning or power beyond our visible world."

Fuller notes that "(a)n idea or practice is "spiritual" when it reveals our personal desire to establish a felt-relationship with the deepest meanings or powers governing life." He or she who pursues that desire with single minded devotion and great effort is likely to experience that "felt-relationship,"which the religious and wisdom traditions of all ages and all countries identify with a higher consciousness which is the essential trait of higher religious or spiritual experience. And it really does not matter what you call it; the point is that you experience it.

Albert Einstein: Spiritual, But Not Religious?

Albert Einstein (1879-1955)

I have long suspected that arguably the greatest scientist of all time, Albert Einstein, may have been just like many people today: "spiritual but not religious." A friend of mine recently forwarded me an archived article from Time magazine that seems to confirm this view.

Eintein's disapproving objection to the indeterminism of quantum mechanics - the "other theory," which along with Einstein's "theory of relativity," shattered  all notions of 'classical physics' and forever changed our understanding of the universe - may be the most famous of his many memorable sayings: "God does not play dice with the universe!"

By his own admission, Einstein was not an atheist. (Indeed, I've heard it said that all physicists are probably closet mystics, drawn to metaphysical speculation as a moth is drawn to the candle's flame, about which I will have more to say, below.) In Time's excerpted article from "Einstein," by Walter Isaacson, (Simon & Schuster: 2007) Isaacson writes:

"(T)hroughout his life, Einstein was consistent in rejecting the charge that he was an atheist. "There are people who say there is no God," he told a friend. "But what makes me really angry is that they quote me for support of such views." And unlike Sigmund Freud or Bertrand Russell or George Bernard Shaw, Einstein never felt the urge to denigrate those who believed in God; instead, he tended to denigrate atheists. "What separates me from most so-called atheists is a feeling of utter humility toward the unattainable secrets of the harmony of the cosmos," he explained.

In fact, Einstein tended to be more critical of debunkers, who seemed to lack humility or a sense of awe, than of the faithful. "The fanatical atheists," he wrote in a letter, "are like slaves who are still feeling the weight of their chains which they have thrown off after hard struggle. They are creatures who--in their grudge against traditional religion as the 'opium of the masses'-- cannot hear the music of the spheres."

"The music of the sphere's." Do any of the spiritual masters, past or present, express either the spiritual nature of the universe, or what may be God, any more poetically? . . . as poetically, perhaps; but, more poetically? Certainly, not.

'Finger of God' Nebula: NASA

In fact, Einstein insisted that an 'inner religious' or 'spiritual' curiosity is necessary for the true scientist, and all scientific inquiry. "Science can be created only by those who are thoroughly imbued with the aspiration toward truth and understanding," he once remarked. "This source of feeling, however, springs from the sphere of religion." Isaacson notes that these remarks on the religious well-springs of scientifc curiosity garnered "front-page news coverage," and prompted another of Einstein's most famous, pithy sayings: "(S)cience without religion is lame, religion without science is blind."

But what were the sources of Einstein's "inner-religiousity" or "spirituality?" Isaacson notes that his parents were almost militantly, non-observant Jews, and that he received a Catholic early education. Nonetheless, he seems to have practiced his own form of Orthodox Judaism until at age twelve he abandoned all outward religious affectations.

I suspect that like many of the leading scientists of the early twentieth century (Wolfgang Pauli, Werner Heisenberg and Robert Oppenheimer, spring to mind), Einstein may have been influenced, more than is readily discernible, by the then-recently transplanted Eastern wisdom teachings such as Bhuddism and the Advaita Vedanta. As Isaacson again notes, based on Einstein's own thoughts and words, Einstein was a profoundly "religious man." Like Heisenberg, who outlined the "uncertainty principle" in quantum theory that Einstein would spend a career unsuccessfully trying to refute, Einstein also penned a credo entitled, "What I Believe." In it, he notes:

"The most beautiful emotion we can experience is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of all true art and science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead, a snuffed-out candle. To sense that behind anything that can be experienced there is something that our minds cannot grasp, whose beauty and sublimity reaches us only indirectly: this is religiousness. In this sense, and in this sense only, I am a devoutly religious man."

A "snuffed-out candle" is the root of the Pali word that the Buddha used to describe enlightenment: nirvana. A candle is also used extensively in Sufi imagery as a metaphor for the Divine. ("Judge the moth by it's candle," Rumi wrote.) And, of course, in the 'Sermon on the Mount,' Jesus urged people not to hide the "light" of their candle under a "bushel" basket, so as to deprive one's neighbour of candlelight in the large, communal houses many lived in at the time.

This is purely speculative, of course. But a man of Einstein's unslakeable curiosity and deeply held spiritual (rather than outerwardly religious) inclinations would surely have looked into the beliefs held by so many others, if not just the beliefs held by Heisenberg and Einstein's close colleague, the Nobel-laureate physicist, Pauli.

Why Intellect Alone Cannot Attain Higher Consciousness

David R. Hawkins, M.D., Ph.D.

One of the most unheralded and "under-the-radar" enlightenment teachers is David R. Hawkins. Hawkins experienced what by any measures was an authentic enlightenment experience as a young man, as recounted in his first book, "Power vs. Force: An Anatomy of Consciousness." Moreover, as a medical doctor who enjoyed a long and successful career as a psychoanalyst while staying mum about his spiritual awakening, Hawkins brings a critical and scientific perspective to bear on the discussion of higher states of consciousness and spirituality.

The author of a four general, yet in-depth, books about the nature of higher states of consciousness and "enlightenment," together with several more scientific treatises on the same subject matter (including,  "Ortheomolecular Psychiatry," authored with multiple Nobel-laureate chemist and peace activist, Linus Pauling), Hawkins explains the long silence on his own enlightenment in the following manner:

"In this case, nothing was said about it for more than thirty years during which time there progressively arose the capacity to dissimilate as normalcy and function in the world. There was no one to whom such a condition would be comprehensible. Only twice were there meetings with known sages who comprehended the condition. The first was Muktananda, and later, Ramesh Balkesar. There was another such meeting on the streets of New York City that was mutually anonymous but total and complete."

The path of enlightenment is, as has been said, a lonely path. "The harvest truly is plentiful, but the labourers are few." (Matt. 9:37)

Like Swami Muktananda, Ramesh Balkesar and the long-line of sages that preceded them (Vedantists and non-Vedantists, alike), Hawkins points to the inherent dualism and illusion of the small "self" or "ego" as the impediment to the attainment of our true nature, what he calls the "I" that underlies our supposed 'reality.' And, in order to shed the dualism of the ego and achieve a consciousness of God, he (like all other enlightened seers) stresses that it is imperative - and possible - to sever the ego's attachhments:

". . . (A)ttachments can be to either content or context, as well as to intended or hoped-for results. to undo a difficult positionality, it may be necessary to disassemble it and then surrender its elements. the payoff that is holding an attachment in place may be that it provides a feeling of security or pleasure; the pride of 'being right'; comfort or satisfaction; loyalty to some group, family, or tradition; avoidance of the fear of the unknown, etc.

 When belief systems are examined, they turn out to be based on presumptions that are prevalent in society, such as right versus wrong or good versus bad. For instance, "I have to have chocolate ice cream" (content) "and then I'll be happy" (context) is based on another positionality, that the source of happiness is outside oneself and has to be 'gotten' (in overall context). All these propositions indicate a series of dependencies (e.g., the Buddha's Law of Dependent Contingencies or Dependent Origination), and when they are surrendered, the source of happiness is found to be in the joy of existence itself, in this very moment and, beyond that in the source of one's existence - God.

Attachments are to illusions. They can be surrendered out of one's love for God, which inspires the willingness to let go of that which is comfortably familiar."
        ("I: Reality and Subjectivity," Veritas Publishing, West Sedona, AZ: 2003, pp. 352-353)

Hawkin's detailed analysis of the enlightened state, and the path to enlightenment, is not for the casual aspirant or dilettante - flouting the "presumptions that are prevalent in society" is not for the casual spiritual seeker, but rather for those who are, indeed, fully committed to their own liberation and to reaching the 'other shore' of the vast expanse of ordinary consciousness. Yet Hawkin's works are an insightful, reassuring, psychologically sound and invaluable trove of insights for the dedicated, modern aspirant on that oft-times lonely path.

Is It Good, or Bad?

"Nothing," Shakespeare observed, "is good or bad, but our thinking makes it so." This truism, from Act II, Scene II of "Hamlet" is one of Shakespeare's most famous lines. It is an original line, but the essence of its meaning is expressed over and over in stories that can be tracked back into the mists of time.

The ancient Ashtavakra Gita - "Gita" meaning "song" in Sanskrit - notes that, "If one thinks of oneself as free, one is free, and if one thinks of oneself as bound, one is bound. Here this saying is true, "Thinking makes it so."

In a very real way, it is our thinking and our perception (quantum scientists would say our conscious observation) that 'crystallizes' our world and our 'reality.' If we judge that reality to be "good," it is "good." If we judge it as "bad," it is "bad." This point is the essential teaching of a traditional Taoist parable:

An old farmer had worked his crops for many years with the help of his wife and his only son. His only possession of any worth was the horse he used to work the fields he rented. And then one day, One day his horse ran away.

The farmer's wife and son were distraught. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. "This is terrible," they said. "Such bad luck," they murmured sympathetically.

"Is it good, or is it bad?" the farmer asked. 

Several days later the farmer's horse returned, leading a whole herd of wild horses into the farmer's corral. The farmer's wife and son were ecstatic. "How wonderful," the farmer's neighbors exclaimed. "you are the richest man in the village!"

"Is this good, or is it bad?" the farmer mused. "We'll see."

The neighbors went away perplexed at the farmer's reaction to such good fortune.


The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The farmer's wife was unconsolable, sobbing and rubbing ashes over her head and face. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on the farmer's misfortune. "This is awful," they exclaimed. "Such a great misfortune."

"Is this good, or is this bad?" the farmer mused." "I just don't know," he said, resignedly. "We'll see."

The neighbors left the farmer, commenting amongst themselves at just how callous the farmer was regarding this grave injury to his only son.

The day after, military officials came to the village and drafted all the young men of the village to fight in a battle few would return from. Seeing that the son's leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out after all

"We'll see" said the farmer.

The farmer was, indeed, dispassionate in the truest sense of the word. He neither suffered from seeming bad news, nor rejoiced for the seeming good. He accepted without judgment life as it presented itself, free of attachment to the course of events.

In a similar story from the Zen Buddhist tradition, the same unattached dispassion is exemplified.

A beautiful girl in the village was pregnant. Her angry parents demanded to know who was the father. At first resistant to confess, the anxious and embarrassed girl finally pointed to Hakuin, the Zen master whom everyone previously revered for living such a pure life.

When the outraged parents confronted Hakuin with their daughter's accusation, he simply replied "Is that so?"

When the child was born, the parents brought it to the Hakuin, who now was viewed as a pariah by the whole village. They demanded that he take care of the child since it was his responsibility.

"Is that so?" Hakuin said calmly as he accepted the child.

For many months he took very good care of the child, until the daughter could no longer withstand the lie she had told. She confessed that the real father was a young man in the village whom she had tried to protect.

The parents immediately went to Hakuin to see if he would return the baby. With profuse apologies they explained what had happened.

"Is that so?" Hakuin said as he handed them the child.

The point is nothing is 'good' or 'bad,' per se. It is our self-centered judgment that imbues everything with its seeming 'goodness' or 'badness.' In doing so, we create our own suffering. "Judge not, lest ye be judged," Jesus cautioned us. He did not mention that we are, the judge, jury and executioner, when we do so.