We are in such a hurry to get it, whatever it is. Gone
into go. Greed for speed -- fast food, fast money, fast
relationships, fast spirituality. Drive-through divinity
with fries and easy-to-swallow highs. Who wants to spend
years doing spiritual practices when the same results apparently
can -- given a sufficiently open mind and wallet -- be gained
in just a weekend? We may even be told that all that can
stop such a weekend from giving us the desired results is
our belief that it cannot. And so the shearing of the sheep
goes. Business as usual.
But the greater our hurry to arrive where we want to be
spiritually, the longer it will take. What is spiritually
greedy in us -- if permitted to masquerade as us -- weights
us down as much as it revs us up, leaving us doing little
more than spinning our wheels while we look around for better
deals. But in true spiritual hunger, there is little or
no wasting of time, which simultaneously means no hurry
and no delay.
Spiritual shortcuts, like all shortcuts, are time-defined.
But authentic spiritual practice does not primarily take
place in time; if we say it takes a long time or a short
time, we are only looking at it from the outside, tacking
it down onto a straight time-calibrated measuring stick.
When we are immersed in spirituality for real, we are not
time-bound, even though we take care of business in a timely
fashion.
The only spiritual shortcut is letting go of having
any shortcut.
When we are sharing deep love with another, where does
the time go? When we are really happy, where does the time
go? It doesn’t go anywhere. Why? Because in such conditions
it simply does not exist, except perhaps in a purely peripheral
sense, and thus has nowhere to go. As we become more intimate
with the Holy Deep, time -- past, present, and future --
becomes space, and space become Being.
Some may confuse Buddhism’s Sudden School, as opposed
to its Gradual School, of Enlightenment with a spiritual
shortcut, but the Sudden School actually involves plenty
of preparation for the “jump” -- hence its symbiotic
link with the Gradual School.
We'll pay so damned much for what we don't really need,
and so little for what we really need. We want Freedom for
free. A man once asked the Dalai Lama how he could more
quickly get to Enlightenment, and the Dalai Lama reportedly
wept for him, recognizing how much pain that man must be
in to want to get to the big E faster. We think that getting
it spiritually will give us immunity from pain and all the
troublesome stuff of life -- what a fantasy! Spirituality
ultimately means no escape, no need for escape, and utter
freedom through limitation and every sort of difficulty.
Shortcuts are time-framed. Short time, long time, etcetera.
But Awakening is not time-framed. Being occurs not in time,
but in Timelessness. So even to want a spiritual shortcut
is but a confession of estrangement from Being.
When the desire to access such a shortcut arises, enter
the very feeling of the desire, bypassing its mind, until
you are at its core, pressed against its primal pulse. Then
let your attention pass through that core-feeling, that
primordial ache, until it rests in the feeling of Being.
Do so, and notice how your flesh becomes but patterned energy,
wearing nothing but the attention given it. No wristwatch.
No clock on the wall -- and not just because there’s
no wall, but also because there’s no one needing there
to be a clock. That in us which functions through time can,
of course, continue, but it cannot now masquerade as us.
In fact, nothing can.
Gotta run. Busy day ahead. A pain in the ass, but kind
of intoxicating, isn’t it, keeping us so damned busy
that the mysteries of the obvious go all but unnoticed.
But still something gets through the cracks in our amphetamine
days, making light of our dreams, asking only for our undivided
attention, our time. The door is, as always, already open,
even as we do battle over who has the right key. Awakening,
we smile with huge compassion upon what we’ve done
with our time. The hourglass catches our glance, spinning
into a flaming mandala of spilling forms, leaving a timeless
clearing that is everywhere at once, inhabited by a gratitude
of which these words are but the feeblest echo.