At the still point of the turning world.

Neither flesh nor fleshless;

Neither from nor towards; at the still

point, there the dance is,

But neither arrest nor movement. And

do not call it fixity,

Where past and future are gathered.

Neither movement from nor towards,

Neither ascent nor decline. Except for

the point, the still point,

There would be no dance, and there is

only the dance.

            T.S. Eliot, The Four Quartets

Ah, the dance! The cosmic twist and shout, the subatomic shuffle, the tango of intangibles, the two-step of non-duality. There is no way we can sit this one out, my friends. So, let’s dance!

I remember back in the ’60s, sometimes you were in the middle of a conversation when somebody would just shrug and say, “Well, everything is everything.” That was considered a statement of deep truth. It was a conversation stopper for sure. All information depends on making distinctions, so after someone says “everything is everything” there is very little left to say.

Although the phrase “everything is everything” was used flippantly throughout the l960s, it nonetheless indicated a new and radical understanding in my generation of the basic unity of all things. Before we had heard about the Eastern cosmologies, many of us young mid-century Westerners were gaining an understanding of Oneness from the myth-shattering discoveries of modern science.

In the l940s and l950s, as I was growing up, the new worldview was just trickling down from the lofty chambers of pure science to penetrate the thick skull of the collective psyche. The generations born in mid-century were the first to read about relativity in their high school text books, the first generations to be told to think of space and time as one inseparable “space-time.” My generation grew up hearing about quantum paradoxes (science admitting of paradox?) and wave/particle dualities and nonlinear realities. The science we were just beginning to assimilate in mid-century was telling us that the universe was tightly woven together in an a-logical, unmechanical way, quite different from what our senses perceived or what our civilization had previously believed.

And then, suddenly, we were allowed to see the truth of the subatomic dance. In 1945 at Hiroshima, the secrets of the atom were let out of the bag, or out of the bomb, as the case may be. I think that after seeing the explosion many people understood for the first time that matter is energy. E equals MC squared. Here was visible proof that the essence of things is nothing but the cosmic current itself, the same everywhere, twisting and turning through everything. For several millennia the West had known that all things are composed of atoms, but here was a look deep inside the atom, where even matter and energy are One. The bomb was the graphic, resounding, overpowering revelation. In the mushroom cloud the cosmic unity arose and spoke its name.

And so it happened that modern science, along with other phenomena such as electronic media and drugs, helped point us toward the Eastern cosmologies and spiritual traditions, where the unity of all things is talked about so thoroughly and where whole technologies are devoted to the experience of the Oneness. And when we got to the East, the mystics and sages told us that it makes no difference if you intellectually know about cosmic unity; only if you merge with the One will it end your suffering and change your life. Of course we agreed wholeheartedly with this prescription. We were eager to dissolve our egos into the Big Everything in the hopes of losing our painful self-consciousness and gaining the promised mystical bliss.

The only question that remained was “How?” How do you incorporate the understanding of Oneness into your cells and the marrow of your bones? How do you merge your suffering little self into the Big Everything and stop feeling separate from the rest of the universe? How do you rewire your brain and untwist your heart so that you can live from that absolute non-dual place? How do you reach the state the mystics call “realization”?

The nature of phenomena is non-dual,

but each one, its own state, is beyond

the limits of the mind.

.

There is no concept that can define

the condition of ‘what is’

but vision nevertheless manifests:

all is good.

.

Everything has already been accomplished,

and so, having overcome the sickness of effort,

One finds oneself in the self-perfected state:

this is contemplation.

The Six Vajra Verses, Dzogchen: The Self Perfected State

.

There seem to be definite trends in spiritual practice which we might call “high fashion.” Recently there is a new interest, at least in vipassana circles, in those spiritual traditions which talk of samsara and nirvana as one, which emphasize “anatta” (no-self) and “shunyatta” (emptiness), and which speak of all beings as already enlightened. Perhaps the growing interest in this approach to dharma is not so much a trend as it is an indication that we are becoming more intimate with the most radical notions and consequences of the dharma.

After several decades, the Eastern wisdom has settled down a little in America, and I think most of us are getting more sophisticated about what it is that we are actually doing. At the same time we are starting to become more familiar with traditions other than our own, learning how each one names, defines and actualizes the teachings. Paths that once seemed so esoteric, such as Tibetan Dzogchen, have lately become more accessible as Western students who have undergone the rigorous trainings emerge to explain them to the rest of us. Of course we are especially fortunate in the West to have access to the dharma as it has been defined and refined over millennia in several different cultures, and maybe now we are beginning to see a convergence of paths. America is supposed to be a melting pot, and there is no reason to believe that the various schools of dharma won’t get mixed together here as well.

Recently, a number of vipassana teachers and students, myself included, have spent time with the Hindu Advaita Vedanta teacher Hari Lal Poonja, and some have also studied with Tibetan Dzogchen masters. The effect that these experiences will have on our community is unknown, but it seems likely that these teachings will influence the tone, if not the substance, of traditional vipassana views and practices.

Hari Lal Poonja (see interview in this issue) says you are already one with the ultimate reality, so there is really nothing to do, and nothing you can do. In order to “realize” your true identity with the Oneness all that is required is to ask “Who am I?” But Poonja-ji would reject any meditation techniques or spiritual practices because they would imply duality; they suggest that there is a “you” trying to get to where you already are, and that would obviously be a waste of time and energy. You’d just be playing musical chairs with yourself.

Advaita Vedanta teachers like Poonja-ji, J. Krishnamurti, or Nisargadatta Maharaj refuse to land on any concept, image, or methodology. They offer the stripped down version of Oneness without Shiva to dance it out for you, or Krishna to play it on his flute for you, or Buddha to give you lessons on how to get there, or Jehovah to decide on its fate for you, or Einstein to put it into an equation for you. The unity has already happened, independent of any words or techniques.

Radical self-inquiry is certainly not exclusive to Advaita Vedanta. The early Chinese Zen masters gave out kung-ans (Chinese for koan) that are similar to the Hindu question “Who Am I?”, albeit a bit more poetic. Typical kung-ans included: “What was your original face before you were born?” “Who is it that is dragging this corpse around?” “Who is it that comes and goes through the six sense doors?” Indeed, we might even put the age-old question “Who Am I?” into slang and ask ourselves “Who goes there?” The Hindu guru will traditionally point up to the sky and say, “Tat Tvam Asi,” which is Sanskrit for “Thou art That.” If you grew up in the ’60s you might simply answer, “Everything is everything.”

Radical self-inquiry is really the center of all spiritual traditions, and the common door into the Oneness. One has to first crack open the shell of “self” before entering the non-dual. To my thinking, that’s exactly where the genius of vipassana lies. It offers to anyone and everyone the tools and clearly defined methods with which to deconstruct the self.

Poonja-ji says it only takes one second. You only have to see who you are one quick time, and that’s enough. After that you always have your enlightenment experience with you in your pocket, a little flash of understanding you can refer to in times of need. While Tibetan Dzogchen masters would agree with Poonja-ji that we are already enlightened, they would also say that it helps to have a grounding in sila (ethics) and good concentration of mind to maintain your understanding of oneness and to live it; “to walk your talk.” The Tibetans Dzogchen masters even have—dare we say it—a “technique.” At least they suggest that you sit down and experience the big everything now and again, or even better, on a regular basis.

From my own experience and after talking with others, I believe that the realization of one’s true nature as identical to the ground of being or primal awareness itself is quite available to vipassana meditators. Some people think that what is required is simply redirecting awareness back on itself, on who is being aware. Others say the essential ingredient is what, in Tibetan Buddhism, is known as “empowerment.” Perhaps one simply needs to recognize, or be instructed as to when it is time to stop breaking the self and universe into pieces and instead let it all come together: to just let it be. Indeed, these two approaches to meditation probably shift back and forth over a lifetime. Sometimes we need discreet investigation into the ten thousand things of the world, and at other times we can just let all the boundaries blur and experience the Source. Perhaps the intense moment to moment investigation of phenomena is the hard work, and the Oneness meditations are the reward. I know for myself that after being with Poonja-ji and a few Dzogchen teachers, I’m currently having a good time in meditation. The One is fun. But I suspect that there’s always more work to be done. Maybe I’m just a slow learner.

There is no greater joke than this: that being the Reality ourselves, we seek to gain Reality. A day will dawn when you will yourself laugh at your effort. That which is on the day of laughter is also now.

Ramana Maharshi

This special place that we seek to enter and where we are already (the One) has been given many names. Before anybody heads off (And I do mean heads off!) too far toward this destination, maybe we should first decide what to name it, just in case we get lost and need to ask directions. What should we call it? I am referring now to the non-dual, selfless, cosmic Oneness. That’s actually not a bad name for it right there. If you want to be completely safe and nonsectarian, you might just call it “the ultimate reality.” Of course you can give “it” any name you please. One of my favorite names for it is “the unnameable.” I also like “suchness,” which has a funky, down home kind of ring to it. “I’m just going out on the front porch for a spell, folks, and sit around in the good ole ‘suchness.’” A name quite similar to “suchness,” but with a more active, verb-like quality is “the isness.” I will sometimes dismiss life’s nasty twists of fate by saying to myself, “That’s just the bizness of the isness.”

The ultimate reality has at times been called the “unborn,” but that term is too loaded these days from its use in the abortion debate. It’s also been called “the unmade,” but that sounds too much like what happens to the bed when you’re in a hurry in the morning. Don’t worry, there are plenty more names to choose from. How about the Predicateless Primordial Essence, the Imperishable, the Source, the Ground of Being, the Transcendent Fullness of the Emptiness (have yourself a waltz with that paradox), the Dissolver of Space and Time and of Sangsaric Mind, the Weaver of the Web of Appearances, (and for a great kicker) the Outbreather and the Inbreather of Infinite Universes Throughout the Endlessness of Duration.

Modern science has given us a few new names for the ultimate reality. The “space-time continuum” is a good one, almost mantra quality, but impossible to adjust your watch to. The most recent label is new-paradigm physicist David Bohm’s “implicate order,” which is a kind of cosmic pattern hidden inside of everything. Is it just another name for the Holy Ghost? Is it the Dharmakaya?

Depending on your temperament, or your mood at any given moment, you could also name the ultimate reality “the big everything” or even “the big nothing.” The “big nothing” is a kind of nihilistic name, conjuring up vague notions of a void, a zero, a complete emptiness. Meanwhile, the “big everything” implies a fullness, an accommodating expanse, an infinite ground of being that shimmers with what the Tibetans refer to as “radiance.” Even so, this “big everything” still points to a quality of sameness, a flattening out of all phenomena that leaves no room for distinctions. Even “the big everything” is just a continuous display of illusory forms, only seemingly full of sound and fury and radiance, and in the end, “signifying nothing.” Which brings us around to the realization that in the end even the big everything and the big nothing are One.

It’s often difficult for people to get very excited about “the big nothing” or “the big everything.” These abstractions are just too far removed from life on this farm planet. Most of us want our ultimate reality to be more “user friendly.” That is why most people choose to adopt a personal god to represent the cosmic oneness for them. Most of us want our “big everything” to have a face. More to the point, we want some “creator” to take responsibility for all the joys and suffering of this life; we require a cosmic flak-catcher whom we can curse and beseech. At other times we want a special ultimate “someone” whom we can adorn and adore. Brahma, Isis, Astarte, Allah, Jehovah, Jesus—these are all agents we have chosen to conduct our business for us with the Bureau of the Big Mystery. Each of them might be viewed as a “stand-in” for the ultimate reality, a stunt-person for the big everything. And isn’t it interesting, folks, that most of our gods and goddesses seem to end up looking a lot like ourselves. “‘Vanity of vanities,’ sayeth the Preacher. ‘All is vanity.’”

This discussion is literally “much ado about nothing.” And that’s all the perennial philosophy has ever been about—people babbling on about nothing and everything. Babbling on is as old as the rivers of Babylon. It’s what priests and philosophers do for a living. Their self-appointed job is to name and define the ultimate reality for the rest of us. They have the impossible task of trying to throw a net of language over the mystery in order to capture and hold it. The impulse to name and describe no doubt arises out of a primal need to feel more secure in relation to the unknown. And that’s probably where the gods come from as well. They are big security blankets for our very young and frightened species, who, as Kurt Weill once wrote, “are lost out here in the stars.”

Unfortunately, over the centuries some people have claimed to have exclusive understanding of the ultimate reality and have either tried to force other people to accept it, or else have tried to sell it to them. In fact, the second oldest human profession is the marketing of one or another version of the ultimate reality. Needless to say, a few people have made a fortune on their story. (Not to mention any names, but have you ever been to the Vatican in Rome or to the Emerald Wat in Bangkok?) And of course, many people have fought wars, slaughtered and enslaved and tortured other people, and all just because they had a different name for “it.” “Nyaah, nyaah! Our god’s better than your god.” That’s the battle cry of the ages! Meanwhile, some of the gods being fought over turn out to be very similar (check out Allah and Jehovah and see if they aren’t brothers in divinity, born of the same desert mother) and still their children kill each other in their deity’s holy name. There are even people who kill each other in the name of the very same god, which must be a difficult situation for the god in question. “Well, let’s see,” figures this god, “which of these peoples loves me the best? Who sacrifices the best animals…?”

Meanwhile, many of us in this modern, secular age have become alienated (it’s no wonder) from all that god business. Instead of gods, we are now turning to the bare, a-mythical essence of things. Many who are on a so-called “spiritual path” are again seeking the “age-old” mystical merging with “the big nothing” or “the big everything.” We are turning down all agents, or at least putting them on hold, and instead are exploring ways to have a direct, unmediated experience of the ultimate reality. No more second-hand gods! No more worn out metaphors! We want the One, and we want it Now!

And so, what is—or what is to be—the new mythology?

It is—and will forever be, as long as our human race exists—the old, everlasting, perennial mythology, in its “subjective sense,” poetically renewed in terms neither of a remembered past nor of a projected future, but of now: addressed, that is to say, not to the flattery of “peoples,” but to the waking of individuals in the knowledge of themselves, not simply as egos fighting for a place on the surface of this beautiful planet, but equally as centers of Mind at Large—each in his own way at one with all. . . .

Joseph Campbell, Myths to Live By

Finally, before we close this examination of the unexaminable, even if we can’t decide on a name for it, let’s see if we can find some way to describe this ultimate reality. I heard a phrase recently that I think sums it up nicely: “It’s it, and that’s that.” Unfortunately this phrase is patented by the Seven Up Company, which has just launched a billion dollar advertising campaign to sell its incredible soft drink, which apparently can only be described by saying, “It’s it, and that’s that.” The Seven Up company intends to drum that slogan into us like a mantra, so that whenever we think of having an ultimate experience we will also think of having a Seven Up.

Meanwhile, Coca-Cola has for many years been playing around with ultimate reality language, constantly telling us, “It’s the real thing, baby.” Now, I wonder if they are simply trying to tell us that Coca-Cola is the real thing when it comes to colas, or if they are also implying that it’s the real thing when it comes to reality? Maybe we should turn the tables on them and co-opt their slogan, alter it a little, and use it to describe the cosmic Oneness. We’ll say, “It’s the real thing behind the real thing, baby.” Will it sell the product? Just imagine! Someday a great mass of people will be standing on a beautiful hillside somewhere and singing—in perfect unison and in perfect Oneness as well—“We got the right One, baby. Uh Huh!”

To end this article and close this issue of Inquiring Mind, I offer this quote from Woody Allen:

Students achieving Oneness

can now move on to Twoness.

∞

From the Fall 1992 issue of Inquiring Mind (Vol. 9, No. 1)

Text © 1992–2021 by Wes Nisker