How to Begin Liberating Oneself


O Slave, liberate yourself.

Where are you, and where’s your home,
find it in your lifetime!

If you fail to wake up now,
you’ll be helpless when the end comes.

Listen, O wise one, says Kabir:
the siege of Death is hard to withstand.

Nearly every morning I get up and marinade my brain with this sort of stuff.

I have to. I choose to. But the truth is that thinking like this—that needing or wanting to think like this—has become as essential and necessary—and effortless—as breathing to me. It’s something I do oft and repeatedly throughout the day.

Fact: If I don’t open myself up now, while I’m alive, while there’s still time, death will do it eventually for me and in spite of me, and then there will be no time left on the clock. And all of the Love I could have given, all the tenderness I could have shown and received, all of the Love and insight I could have shared and left of myself on this earth to possibly brighten it, will go in the ground or up in flames over the pyre.

And my one chance at living and loving will be over.

It will be gone. Finished. Finito. Never to be repeated.

And billions and billions of years will come after me and wipe away all trace of me and whatever I did with my life—whether I played it safe and lived out of fear and clung ruthlessly to any sort of security I could find; or whether I let myself be fully opened and not play it so damn safe, and live and love on life’s terms.

So what am I waiting for now? And you reading this, what are you waiting for?

What are any of us waiting for?

A day without reflection and contemplation, a day without love, a day without loving others and being good to them, a day without facing our fears and stretching ourselves beyond them, a day without the depth of love we know we could have if we were just a bit braver, more open, more daring, in need of less security, is a wasted day.

And yet this is what so many of us do. Gotta work more, gotta earn more, gotta save more, gotta get more security and safety, gotta anesthetize myself more, gotta avoid life more, gotta avoid what frightens me more, gotta numb myself more, gotta live on autopilot more, gotta read crappy books more, gotta drink more, gotta daydream more, gotta escape more, gotta get more comfort.

And day leads on to day and turns into weeks and then months, and more and more time (and life) gets wasted.

And then of course one has to justify all of the wastefulness and start fighting for it; one has to dig in one’s heals, twist one’s thinking, and start compounding the mistake, and begin the process of heaping error on top of error.

Why do so many of us live on so little and live such small sheltered frightened lives and want so little that is real for ourselves?

Why are we so afraid of our own emotions and of being overwhelmed or flooded by them?

News flash: What we fear is going to happen one day to us is going to happen to us one day. Later or sooner. We each owe a death. It’s unavoidable. Inevitable. We each have to play out that scene. And when that time comes, it’s too late for us to really become all that we could have become earlier, in our prime, if we had lived with greater courage and steadiness and composure. And love.

I see all of the fear in others and myself, how much we flinch and tremble, how we shut down and run away from life, from love, from others, but most of all from ourselves and from growing up and facing ourselves and our larger life situation (life’s inevitables) honestly. And it breaks my heart. Why do we (some of us? most of us?) do this to ourselves and to each other?—torment each other with ourselves and our pettiness and avoidance? Why does something—life, love—that began so beautifully and with so much promise and passion and possibility have to end so badly and scatter in debris on some loveless shore? Why do so many people do indecent things to each other? Why do hurt people hurt people? Why? Why? Why?

 

The Crunch” – Charles Bukowski

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zAIwmHt2PRc

too much too little

too fat
too thin
or nobody.

laughter or
tears

haters
lovers

strangers with faces like
the backs of
thumb tacks

armies running through
streets of blood
waving winebottles
bayoneting and fucking
virgins.

an old guy in a cheap room
with a photograph of M. Monroe.

there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock

people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.

people just are not good to each other
one on one.

the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.

we are afraid.

our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners

it hasn’t told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.

or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone

untouched
unspoken to.

people are not good to each other.

I suppose they never will be.
I don’t ask them to be.

but sometimes I think about
it.

the beads will swing
the clouds will cloud
and the killer will behead the child
like taking a bite out of an ice cream cone.

too much
too little

too fat
too thin
or nobody

more haters than lovers.

people are not good to each other.
perhaps if they were
our deaths would not be so sad.

meanwhile I look at young girls
stems
flowers of chance.

there must be a way.

surely there must be a way that we have not yet
thought of.

who put this brain inside of me?

it cries
it demands
it says that there is a chance.

it will not say
“no.”
 

If you really think about it—if anyone dares to really think about it—no other way of living really makes sense other than this: than to live as courageously and honestly and openly as possible, to love and be loved, to grow and mature emotionally and become less and less beholden to or controlled by our fears and weak points. Sure, others might take advantage of us and our openness and use it against us. So what? Do it anyways. No one gets out of here alive. We’re all caught in ticking traps. We’re all going to turn cold and one die—even those we love and cling to will eventually die on us. So what are we so afraid of? Why aren’t we all living with greater openness and honesty and courage? And Love? (The real stuff.)

“We’re all going to die, all of us; what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn’t. Instead we let ourselves be distracted by nonsense, terrorized and flattened by trivialities. We’re eaten up by nothing. What is terrible is not death but the lives people live or don’t live up until their death. They don’t honor their own lives, they piss on their lives. They shit them away. Dumb fucks. They concentrate too much on fucking, movies, money, family, fucking. Their minds are full of cotton. They swallow God without thinking, they swallow country without thinking. Soon they forget how to think, they let others think for them. Their brains are stuffed with cotton. They look ugly, they talk ugly, they walk ugly. Play them the great music of the centuries and they can’t hear it. Most people’s deaths are a sham. There’s nothing left to die.”
– Charles Bukowski, The Captain is Out to Lunch and the Sailors have taken over the Ship (1998)

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First Thoughts This Morning: What Does it Mean to Lead an Examined and Eyes-Wide-Open Life?


It is only in the face of death that man’s real self is born.” – St. Augustine

It is not enough in this life to be born only once; we must be born again, and from or into something higher and wiser and more stable than all of the accidents and contingencies that make up our first self—all of the fears and unchosen conditioning (“karma”) and things that others have done to us when we were young and defenseless, and that have set our basic wiring in place.

Dag Hammarskjöld wrote—

At every moment you choose yourself. But do you really choose your self? Body and soul contain a thousand possibilities out of which you can build many I’s. But in only one—which you will never find until you have excluded all those superficial and fleeting possibilities of being and doing with which you toy out of curiosity or wonder or greed or your need for security, and which hinder you from casting anchor in the experience of the mystery of life—is your ‘I’.”

Gurdjieff put it this way—

Human beings are attached to everything in this life; attached to their imagination, attached to their ignorance, attached to their fear, attached even to their own suffering—and possibly to their own suffering more than anything else. A person must first free himself from attachment. Attachment to things, identification with things, keeps alive a thousand false I’s in a person. These I’s must die in order that the big I may be born. But how can they be made to die? . . . It is at this point that the possibility of awakening comes to the rescue. To awaken means to realize one’s nothingness, that is, to realize one’s complete and absolute mechanicalness, as well as one’s complete and absolute helplessness. . . . So long as a person is not horrified at himself, then a person knows nothing about himself or life.

So what does it mean to lead an examined and eyes-wide-open life?

It means to get up every morning (or nearly every morning) and think and reflect and contemplate for a while—and perhaps even write/journal/blog for a few minutes—on the idea that nothing in life is certain. Nothing, except death. Except loss. Except change. It means to think about our shared place in the scheme of things—the lot or predicament we all share. It means to be able to think about more than just our own personal problems and unhappiness, but the larger problems and unhappinesses and sufferings that all of us as human beings are heir to—sickness, old age, death, loss. It means to think about impermanence, how fleeting life and health and even wealth and love can be, how quickly things can change from good to bad. Or from bad to worse.

Thinking about such things—while perhaps on the surface appearing depressing or a “downer”—is the only true source of our humanity and humaneness. Our inhumaneness, our inhumanity—to ourselves, and, what is more often the case, to others, because it is almost always those around us who pay the greatest price for our shortfalls in courage and grit and goodness—lies in running away from these sorts of thoughts and considerations. In fact, running away from such considerations is the definition of what it means to be asleep or blind in life.

Yes, it’s human to run, to avoid what is unpleasant, difficult, distressing, but it’s also human—and much more human and humane—to stop running and to begin facing what we most fear.

What’s worst and weakest in us wants an easy life, a life free of suffering, a life of comfort and security and soft gentle touches and caresses. And when life stresses us out and or shows us its not so soft and warm side, that part of us spins out and pushes us (seduces us) to run—to break and sell out and run.

And so the more we do this, the more we set this precedent within us, the more we grease and lube those neural networks and make it all the more likely we will run all the more quickly and for even lesser reasons than we just did.

And if we do this frequently enough, not only do we cripple ourselves and hurt, even harm* those around us in our flight from ourselves and from life and reality and truth, we eventually damn ourselves, render ourselves irredeemable, become a ghastly flinchy, neurotic, largely conscienceless creature that no longer recognizes anything or anyone outside of itself and its own insatiable need for safety, security, comfort, avoiding stress, tension, pain. We become locked into a prison of ourselves, unable to stretch ourselves beyond our own most basic wants and needs. We may look human on the outside, but on the inside, we are regressing, living with less and less dignity and uprightness, becoming less and less of an adult, and more and more weak, crippled, asleep, living on our knees.

This is what life is like when we refuse to think about more than ourselves and our own fears and hurts and likes and dislikes. We become petty tyrants, little petty unjust despots, little devils, little banes in the lives of others. Partly human, but often hideously inhumane and atrocious to others.

But life looks different—much different—the more we slow ourselves and allow ourselves to reflect honestly on life’s inevitables—the inevitables that we are all heir to—loss, sickness, old age, suffering, death, impermanence, fragility.

As we begin to shift our thinking from me to we, from my own personal neuroses and misfortunes to the sufferings we are all prone to, then we begin deeply humanizing our thinking and ourselves. As we move from me to we, we begin to allow such things as genuine appreciation, gratitude, forgiveness, magnanimity, personal responsibility, mindfulness, wakefulness, Love (the real stuff—http://realtruelove.wordpress.com) to take real root in us.

We can begin (finally) asking ourselves—and more and more often—”Knowing that death cannot be avoided and that I (and those around me I love and care about) owe a death, do I still want to cave right now and run away from this lesser difficulty /fear and thus weaken myself even more in regards to my ability to live and die well?” And we can begin living this question—this very humane and humanizing question—and see what effect it has on us and how we show up to life—especially the difficulties inherent in everyday life.

Our essential “I”—our true self, our authentic self—lies in not running away from what most frightens us, but from struggling honestly and heroically to learn how to more truthfully face our deepest fears and compassionately integrate life’s unavoidables and inevitables into our daily and moment to moment decision-making apparatus. 

And one of the best ways to begin doing this is begin a habit of thinking about life’s inevitables compassionately and honestly when we wake up and before we get on with our day.

If more and more of us would do this—would spend 20 or 30 minutes reflecting first thing in the morning on Life, death, Love (the real stuff), impermanence, interconnectedness, suffering, loss, or reading something soulful and of substance, or writing/journaling/blogging on these themes—it will help to change things for the better and make us more humane and honest and awake.

Friend, hope for the Guest while you are alive.
Jump into experience while you are alive!
Think . . . and think . . . while you are alive.
What you call “salvation” belongs to the time
before death.

If you don’t break your ropes while you’re alive,
do you think
ghosts will do it after?

The idea that the soul will rejoin with the ecstatic
just because the body is rotten—
that is all fantasy.

What is found now is found then.

If you find nothing now,
you will simply end up with an apartment in the
City of Death.

If you make love with the divine now, in the next
life you will have the face of satisfied desire.

So plunge into the truth, find out who the Teacher is,
Believe in the Great Sound!

Kabir says this: When the Guest is being searched for,
it is the intensity of the longing for the Guest that
does all the work.
Look at me, and you will see a slave of that intensity.

– Kabir “The Time Before Death,” translated by Robert Bly

———————–

* Just because we don’t see the long-term cumulative effects that our repeated acts of weakness and cowardice have on those around us, doesn’t mean we aren’t harming them, doing to them similar what was done to us and what has rendered us as we are—weak, dishonest, ashamed, hurt, wounded, flinchy, avoidant, cowardly, impulsive, ungrateful, parasitic.