I had just gotten off of the train in Berlin. I was waiting for a friend who had been talking to two German girls and was exchanging addresses with them. While waiting for him a punk with a blue mohawk approaches me and asks if I had a cigarette. I did not understand German but understood his gesture. I said “no” in English and he understood I was not German. He asked me in perfect English where I was from and we started chatting. Although he looked a little coarse he was actually a really friendly and intelligent person. He asked me if I liked punk rock. I said I knew very little of it but my uncle gave me a Sex Pistols cassette a few years ago when I was sixteen and I really enjoyed it. It was not really music that moved my soul or was beautiful but the Sex Pistols were very humorous in their audacity and rebellion. He started to sing some lines from “God Save The Queen”. ……“God save The Queen…..the fascist regime…..they made you a moron…..and there is no future for you in England’s dreaming…..”. And then started to shout the refrain “no future, no future for you” at the people passing by. Although a little embarrassed I found it humourous.
I remarked that his English was so good because he listened to English punk music. He said that God Save The Queen was a great manifesto for him. Punks did not really hate people, just their false institutions created by false pretty and princely people who screw everybody else. He was sincere and well spoken and I liked his perspective but my friend came and interrupted our conversation.
I had been travelling with this friend from high school. He was a spoiled rich kid who had been acting like the classic “ ugly American” all throughout our tour of the continent after our high school graduation. I think he felt inferior being in older, foreign cities more culture than our shallow, suburban and corporate US culture and had to act superior to everyone to compensate for his inferiority complex.
My friend asked why I was talking to such a fellow. I said that he was insightful and joked about how punk rock unites humanity. My friend scoffed. I said that at least instead of hating his brothers across the English Channel he was united with other punks who hated elitism and the wars that king’s, priests and politicians have always created. It was perfect irony, his coarse attitude coupled with an inward sensitivity. I said that if I would have been in my grandfather’s reality in the 1940s as an American in Germany then the punk and I would have been shooting at each other. “How much could these people have changed in 50 years? God damn Nazis,” he said with a scornful laugh. “You did not think the girls on the train were god damned Nazis,” I responded.
Later that night after getting settled in our hotel and dining we were out walking. There was some loud dance music and a line if people outside what seemed to be a club. They were all stylish people, a little older than us, most in their twenties or thirties. My friend wanted to go check it out. I was not interested and said that I was dressed in a wind breaker while all of the people they were all decked out in really cool clothes. The jacket I used was actually my friend’s. He was wearing a nice and even stylish coat of mine and asked me to trade coats with him for the night. He insisted we try and get in and dragged me over. He asked some other people around our age what the place was. They said it was one of the coolest places in town and had been waiting an hour to get in. My friend asked why it took so long and the young German explained that there were two way mirrors in which the staff there could see who was waiting outside. If they thought people were cool enough they would open the doors and point at specific people and tell them to come in.
I nudged my friend and said this was all so stupid, that there was no way that I would ever get in there even if I wanted to. He insisted that we try.
A few minutes later some really elitist looking man dressed in an all black suit opens the door and points at me to enter the club. I was surprised and laughed to my friend. I asked the guy in the door if my friend could enter with me. He scanned him critically from head to toe and nodded his head in a negating, arrogant manner. I said thanks anyway but I won’t go in without my friend and walked away. The guy at the door told the rest of the thirty or forty people that nobody else could enter and that they should get going. My friend tried to laugh it off but I was afraid he felt rejected. Nowadays I would say it was definitely a good think to have false dreams rudely broken so as to wake up and get real but at that time I still did not have such clarity and confidence and felt bad for my friend. I felt ashamed. I was not sure why at the time but felt that it was all such an ugly experience; all of those sycophants who bend like a willow trying to get accepted by such an ignorant and superficial elite. Who put them in charge? Why do they decide things? I recalled the punk I met earlier and reflected on how he was much more real than the rest of the people I met that day.
So I told my friend that we should go back to the train station and find my punk friend. He could bring his buddies and we could smash some beer bottles outside the club and paint some vulgar insults a on the two way mirrors. At least my friend laughed a little.
Exclusivity is so destructive, especially when groups of powerful people prop themselves up by putting down others. Although the people in the club were so frivolous and superficial, their attitude is found in so many exclusive circles. If one is shrewd then other shrewd people invite you into their circles where one eventually risks getting devours by them when you are no longer useful. It is the same with intellectual and artistic pride as well. I have known some humble and even-minded artists and intellectuals but many artists are full of vanity and driven by ambition and a sense of superiority. I even think that most spirituality is just rude vanity masked by tranquility and sham humility. They will also use their two way mirrors and invite you into their circles only to eventually devour you when you try to be yourself.
Whatever one does one must be sincere. To be sincere is to be humble. Humility is not weakness. It is a strenght acquired through so many struggles to put the fearful and isolated ego aside and permit the consciousness of the universe to work inside oneself and bestow some of its array infinite qualities into your personal expression. This process is part of our inward evolution and all beings will eventually have to tread this path of integrity. The Atman is the only true and honest mirror that we have. It does not judge nor distort our true, inner image. Perhaps it is difficult to see in this light of truth for a mind accustomed to darkness, but its process of integrating the wayward mind towards Consciousness is always for our welfare.
Such vain and self serving attitudes are everywhere and are the roots of racism, classism, nationalism and all of the other “isms” that I find so shallow and stupid. Human societies are mostly just silly popularity circles run by little princess and princesses who are so lost and lonely that they bandy together with other lost souls who think they have some superior qualities they can suppress others with. The shrewd elite are really weak and fearful people who can never look into their inner mirror and walk a path of integrity. I recall the Sex Pistols and the German punk reciting them: “They made you a moron”.. and “there is no future for you”……
Truly there is no future for a humanity dominated by such ideas and our arrogance is destroying the entire planet. Vanity and exclusivity are behind racism, economic and class exploitation and so many materialistic distortions that are destroying nature and humanity. These are very disturbing realities that unquiet the minds of most thoughtful people I know. I think that they would despair if they were not sincerely trying to help others and create a better world. Yet sometimes the most optimistic minds are overwhelmed. Perhaps as an escape for myself I conjure the memory of the punk shouting the refrain “no future for you…” as the rude lyrics of God Save The Queen resound in the mind as a mantra to drown out these far ruder impressions.
Two Israelis Under The Atman
However, the universal spirit, or Atman, never gives up on us. It is the nuclues consciousness of the entire universe. It is the “prime mover” of all physical, mental and spiritual dimensions of the universe. The human mind unconsciously seeks its source in infinite consciousness. Our higher ideas and sentiments are designed to lead us into union with this essence. As it is the universal consciousness within every mind, every mind must eventually express subtler consciousness. Sensible and conscientious people all over the planet have an intuition of the One that unites us all.
There was a short period in which I would leave my abode in the desert and make short trips. Mostly I met indigenous people while visiting their communities, but also people from many places in the world. At that time I was meditating a lot and lived a very quiet and contemplative existence. I preferred this over the active life in cities but I really enjoyed getting out and meeting people from time to time. Really, a great part of meditation is being able to truly connect with others. Obstacles and staticity always intrude on one´s spiritual practice that is based solely on the individual desire for liberation. If the Atman is found within one, then, by its very nature, it must also be seen in others. Seeing the divinity in other people is just as important as finding the divinity within.
I was once in San Cristobal De Las Casas, Chiapas. A friend had referred two young Israeli men to me because she thought they would like to talk to me about meditation and yoga. They had just finished the compulsory military tour of duties. They were in Gaza during one of the most violent periods around ten or twelve years ago. Any world traveler comes across Israeli soldiers who are traveling the world after they are discharged. They are so often traumatized and looking for ways to anesthetize their pain with drugs and alcohol or some other escape. Sure, there were some who found more healthy ways of escape by simply traveling and seeing the world but it was all too common to find circles of ex soldiers living in some place like India where hash or heroin was really cheap and one could live for years with scant savings after military service.
The two young men I met were very special. They were traveling, had been to Africa and South America and were now in Mexico. They had already passed through the scenes of raves, alcohol and ecstasy but were still unsatisfied and looking for something more. They smoked some weed and enjoyed some novel reflections on life before being haunted by violent memories that no substance could quell. They told me they were looking for a shaman to give them ayahuascar or peyote.
One of them was very cool and calm. It surprised me to see that he had such peace in him after I later heard what he had been through. The other was more expressive and outgoing. He had a certain intensity about him but had an extremely sharp mind that he could withdraw from its intensity to reflect upon deep ideas. He told me very clearly that they had tried everything they thought could help them but simply have not found an escape…..They must find some sort of escape.
The vocal one told me that he was in Gaza just a few months before our meeting. He told me that he had to confront some Palestinian militants who were using a small child as a shield. They pointed a weapon at the Israeli soldiers while holding a child in front of them so that the soldiers would not shoot them. I did not ask him what he did nor did he tell me. He said the Palestinians were terrorists. His friend interjected and said that they had really given them no other choice, that his country´s political policies creates terrorism. They were also terrorist, he said.
I told them that I was also from an imperialist, terrorist culture. The United States used slaves to build the country while killing off the indigenous people. I would feel terrible shame if I had any national pride or waved a flag. Being a human was so much more than all of those lies and those morons who believed in such things were really not yet humans. This is the planet of the apes, I said, and then apologized to the apes for the insult of bringing them down to our level.
I responded to him by saying they want to escape into something that they do not have in order to get rid of what they have. I said maybe you can find something that you already have to help you git rid of what you do not want. They both followed me and knew I was speaking of something spiritual. The outspoken one said with desperate intensity, “How?, Where is it?
It is closer to you than your deepest thought or your most traumatic memory, I responded. I spoke of the Witness of the mind that is always consciously present and aware of the mind in an eternal presence. It is with us in heaven and hell, in joy and suffering. It is above the activities of the mind but always attracts it toward its higher essence where all of the relative doubts and suffering can find relief, can find a meaning and reason. You just have to find a way to still the mind to see that your awareness just is, that it continues even when you are not thinking or feeling or acting. It is a joyful experience and if you experience it just a little the mind finds some happiness, a little bit of light begins to creep into its labyrinths and whispers a few secrets and inspirations of how to heal.
The calm one sat there so calm like he already knew this. The other one vocalized and conceptualized it a little. “Yes, it is always there and never changes…I know it is there but it is too easy to forget and I do not know how to get back…is this where we were or where we came from when we were children?”
The Atman is the ground of our awareness. It is like the electricity passing through a series of different bulbs. The light might be white, yellow, or blue, may be a disco ball or a lava lamp, but no matter what form the outlet expressing it has, it is always the same electricity enlightening all. It is one struggle to see it in oneself, but an even greater struggle to see it in others, especially those who are perceived to be the enemy. To find some common ground in the social and relative world between rivals is peace. But what if those social negotiations also recognized a deeper common ground? Would there be a god of Israel, a god of Islam, or the god of the Christians to impede our essential union?