Topsham-Brunswick, Maine
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When the [one, true] Self wants to make its gift to itself it creates the appropriate conditions and makes the gift. The appropriate conditions are like the wrapping paper that surrounds the gift. The gift itself is not an object.
*Francis Lucille. The Perfume of Silence.
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When I tell Kyudo that I am studying to become a monk, a look of incredulity crosses his face. Then he explodes with laughter, "You monk? Larry-san a monk? Ha! Ha! Ha!"
For a moment, I think he'll never again regain control of himself, but then suddenly his laughter stops and he fixes me with a stare. "No, Larry-san, you not monk. You instant monk! Understand? Instant monk! Listen: I monk. Become monk six years old. Four years temple, fifteen years monastery. Why you want to monk?"
Stammering slightly, I tell him I want to "take my practice to a deeper level."
"Deeper level?" He laughs again, "What you mean 'deeper'? Zen practice only one level. No deep, understand? No shallow."
*Lawrence Shainberg. Ambivalent Zen.
*
Too many
worship words, lovely words,
words to the Beloved, words of Love
while the Friend whispers,
"Be quiet and
feel the Grace of my lips
already kissing your lovely heart"
* * *
Kyudo is right. There is no deeper to get to. Why? Deeper is here. You cannot go deeper than deeper. The Friend is already kissing your heart, kissing you. You are kissing yourself. You always have been since you could kiss. From your kiss, you look for a kiss. Kiss meets kiss.
Shainberg is right, too. Sounds contradictory, I know. Our brain tends to want to inhabit only one side of the truth. So, yes, he could go deeper. Deeper would mean more into the deeper, already deeper. He, like us, is trained to live on the surfaces. Like that getting older guy called Brian in the mirror, for he looks different than when aged one, ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, yesterday, or one minute ago. But the surfaces are not mere surfaces. I see Brian, but Brian is not merely Brian.
The problem with us is not surfaces, it is our fascination with surfaces, those that please and displease us. Surfaces leave us in a shallow trance. We may call it a spiritual high or a pain in the butt, but we still get captivated. We suffer because surfaces are surfaces, not that they are bad or immoral.
We come to suffer, for we realize that the surfaces, as we experience them, do not finally satisfy us. No matter how much tasty food and drink, sex, alcohol, sports, intellectualism, money, fame, religious or spiritual experiences we have, we come to see none of that finally satisfies us. In fact, we come to feel deeply, even amid the temporary pleasures, that they are fleeting. Knowing that casts a shadow over even the ecstatic.
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I recall going on a silent retreat in the woods in the Orlando, Florida area. I was a pastor. For the retreat, I was given a small hermitage beside a river. There was not one other person around. I had taken food for the eight days. The deep woods and silence surrounded me. Yet, what became apparent to me soon was being haunted by thoughts of a couple in my church who were upset with me. As a pastor, I always met members who projected onto me expectations I did not meet and had no intention to meet. I was raised, as some say, not to kiss ass. Well, you know what sometimes happens when you refuse to pucker your lips and give the butt a smack. Later, the couple left the church, and I never saw them again. I was not the kind of pastor to chase after persons who chose to move on elsewhere.
So, there I was, walking in this paradise far away from the congregation, but this inner upset. What should I do? Speak with them? Not? Well, it was nice being away from them. I would be with them again soon, however. This is like having sex with someone you are constantly arguing with, knowing that after the sex, you both will be fussing with each other again. Not very helpful. Well, at least you feel some temporary relief from the chaos. And the temporary need not be bad; it just solves nothing. A couple in my congregation admitted to enjoying sex together, while telling me that was the only time they enjoyed each other's company. Otherwise, they were arguing. So, two top off the love-making, if you can call it that, with an organism, rest some, get up, and growl at each other day in and day out. Maybe they start the fussing before they even get out of bed.
So, amid the pleasure, suffering can follow us. We cannot escape reality. Changing surfaces can help, but it is never the answer we are looking for. And chasing one pleasure after another to flee is like living from one drunken stupor to the next or one dope high to the following. Chasing one spiritual high after another is the same. Finally, the pleasure begins, thankfully, to cease being so pleasurable. Pleasure becomes misery. So, now, we cannot even escape from misery by pleasure; pleasure has become misery.
Very good! Maybe, then, we are open to the deeper, something more, or more subtle, than pleasure. This is somewhat like realizing there is a pleasure under pleasure, or more pleasing than pleasure. Another word for this is "joy." This is a good word for this deeper, but only if we do not reduce it to happiness.
In Hinduism, often the word "bliss" (Sanskrit, ananda) is used for this joy. Ananda is seen to be an innate quality of God, or Reality, as in the phrase Sat-Chit-Ananda: Being-Consciousness-Bliss. I have heard this read as the following: Being that is Conscious of Bliss. You can be a being conscious of bliss, for bliss, not suffering, and not pleasure or happiness, is your true nature. When joyful, you do not feel a need to pursue happiness or try to escape into pleasure. You welcome moments of pleasure or happiness, and you accept moments of displeasure and unhappiness, but you do not cling to either. You are joy! They pass. Joy is you.
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The yearning for deeper means an invitation to experience the surfaces in union with the deeper, meaning, as more than surfaces (on this, you can consult my book Brian K. Wilcox, An Ache for Union). We are not among those who think matter is evil or counter to life. Yet, most of us have the opposite problem: we are socialized to deny the deeper, even if we are taught it is present. We do not deny matter, we treat it like it is all. We are blind to our own blindness. And, often, when we are taught there is a deeper, as in much religion, we are taught it is not present, not within reach now - except, maybe, to a few saints or enlightened ones. In some Buddhism, for example, you may have to live millions of lifetimes finally to reach Nirvana. Well, wonderful that in much Buddhism there is not such silly talk.
We, see, can get caught in materialism or idealism: surfaces or depth. What do I mean? We may be taught we are just stuff alongside other stuff: materialism. Or we are taught stuff is just stuff, and there is something more real other than stuff: idealism. With the latter, many are taught the really real is somewhere else, at the end of many lifetimes maybe, in elevated states of mind, in spiritual highs, or in being transported into a heaven waiting after death of the stuff called body.
One example. We can relate to someone as a body and mind, a person of gross processes - mobility, feeling, thought. Still, no matter how complicated, complex, and amazing, that is a machine. At that level, we are an evolving egg-sperm, only dust to dust. Even to say "I love you" means nothing more than gross processes of this slowly dying mass of meat. Once the meat runs down, well, that is death. Again, no matter how wonderful that machine is, that breathing robot ruled by archaic, institutional drives - eat, sleep, poop, pee, sex, procreate ... - it is purely surface... . Or is it that and more?
"I love you" can be so much more than the robotic noted above. Here, gross processes are symptoms of what we call "love." In materialism, only surfaces matter, for they are the end-all. In materialism, love, compassion, gratitude, joy, peace, awe ... are only those gross surfaces, nothing more. Basically, then, you and I are only a more complex surface than poop, so we can poop out poop rather than the other way around.
Finally, with deeper, we cherish the surfaces more while still acknowledging and sensing their limitations. The person we say "I love you" to is experienced finally as unable to fulfill what "love" indicates. Even the word "love" can feel empty. This is something not taught us: that loving someone, anyone, is ultimately designed to lead to some sense of failure. Why? Because the relationship, at a surface level, person to person, leads to the experience of its incapacity to contain what it was never meant to contain in the first place. Still, what I refer to as failure is success. Wonderful!
So, the appearances of others are veils of the deeper. Each face is a face of the deeper. Something is looking out of your eyes. In fact, the appearance is that: appearance. So, you come to see through the appearance. Then, you cherish the appearance even more. Deeper sees deeper. Your appearance alone cannot see through the appearance of anyone or anything. Appearance sees appearance; deeper sees deeper.
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So, yes, the deeper is already present. Yet, we are socialized to cling to appearance. That is a good beginning point. From there, we grow to sense a longing for more. "More," not separate, for the deeper is not separate from the appearance.
What is this deeper, this non-appearance that manifests by appearing? There are many words. It can get confusing. In my upbringing, among evangelical Christians, some spoke of "body, mind, soul" and others "body, mind, soul, spirit." Usually, it was the first. So, according to this schema, you are a body and have a mind and soul. Somewhere, likely in your brain, you have a mind. And somewhere inside the body, there is a soul. Still, this is a materialistic view, for it retains the idea that you are the appearance, you are this body, with mind and soul along as passengers.
Now, some, thinking they have seen the truth, confidently say we are a soul, or spirit, with a body. At death, the body will be disposed of, and the soul will fly onward, like keeping the letter but throwing the envelope in the trash. Well, that is the opposite duality of materialism, is it not? Idealism. But what if we do not have to choose? What if we are a harmony - appearance and non-appearance?
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In the Christian Scripture, the Gospel of John reads, "The Word became flesh." Notice that it says "became." This is the union. Word is Word, flesh is flesh. Yet, Word becomes flesh, and flesh cannot become Word. The Word remains the Word, the flesh the flesh. Likewise, with the eyes of flesh, one sees Jesus. One sees the Word and Jesus with the eyes of the heart. However, this can happen when you see the person standing before you: this is not merely a past event. Word becoming flesh is a timeless epiphany. No religion or non-religion has any ownership of this event. In any moment, Word is becoming flesh, depth is appearing in union with surface. This union means depth is surface. There is no dust mote between.
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If Shainberg goes deeper, he will see what his friend is saying. Until he does, he will not. When you experience the depth, it may initially come as a surprise, even a shock. You will likely quickly put it aside and move on skating along the surfaces as surfaces. Once you habituate to it, however, it is your new normal. You see the ordinary is absolutely beautiful and mysterious, not for being non-ordinary but for just being what it is. As I said before, you cherish the appearance more, not less.
Still, you know, the appearance is more than what you had before thought or was taught it to be. "Thought" means you were seeing what you were trained to see; now, you are seeing from the heart, the heart that is not merely emotional, the heart that is the deeper itself or the gateway of the deeper - really, both. Words fail! So, "Silence." Okay, one last word: "Wonderful!"
I invite you to explore how the opening words from Lucille might relate, for you, to the above sharing.
(C) brian k wilcox, 2025
