Spirituality in a place like Boulder -- my hometown -- can be a bad cliché, a LuLu Lemonized, downward dog pranayama ego-fest of exposed bellies, empty OMs, predacious sexuality, "desire" malas, and self-serving practice.
Sometimes, yeah, I’m guilty of my own scotch-drenched version of this, sure.
But I’ve also seen the face of God. Where there are no more distinctions between self and other; the heart blown open and sorrowless tears, where everything is blindingly perfect in its arising. Just this.
And then somewhere a tiny little ego, a tiny little view, a tiny little man trying to take that view for himself, to own the vastness as “I”, to teach it, to be it. And not only can I not have this, I can’t even really understand it, and so there is pain beyond words, loss beyond description, oblivion deeper than death and darker than space.
But I’ve seen the face of God, and tell you it is no different from my own, sweet face, no different from your perfect eyes and your boundless essence. For me, there is no going back: I am beautifully bound. I am surrendered (forget about the idea of surrendering, that just more of the tiny man’s little fantasy).
I am the path I have sought. I have danced on it, fought on it, fucked on it, spit on it, shit on it, turned from it, worshipped it, embraced it, and abandoned it. It's the same path you are on, the only path there really is.
If you want support and challenge on your path, I offer Zen Mentoring those willing to walk the walk. Let's talk if you want to learn more.