How many ways are there to prevent absolute, ultimate immersion into God? Oh my God—evidently there are infinite, immeasurable, unfathomable ways. Sometimes I really wish these human forms came with an owner’s manual, realizing, of course, that the Owner is God.
My most recent discovery—death is a deceitful distraction. It makes you believe in it and steals the truth. Right now, it is my top-rated diversion. It takes all we have to deny it, lots of guts to dance with it, even more to enter into it, and you’d have to be crazy to meet it without flinching. You would think that embracing one’s death is doing the Good Work, wouldn’t you? I sure did. Sitting with my death, meeting and inquiring into this death, its potential, its probability … what a lie it is. I have met my death now four times. This time was different though. As I was feeling into it, simply sitting still, I heard the question, whose death?
I laughed. A sick little laugh, like the person who realizes they are the brunt of the joke. Whose death, indeed!
And yet, the process had begun. The energy spiraling into discovery was not to be denied. Even with the question so perfectly poised to destroy any semblance of a me, there was a deep, unreasonable need to meet my death. As I watched, I realized that if I could not dissolve entirely into God, then death of this body and reUnion with God was far preferable. I would rather die than live another moment without the tantric embrace, the satiated realization of God—complete dissolution into the Infinite.
Even as the thought ricocheted through my brain, I could see its many failings. It banks on something that isn’t Here Now, something that can be attained with the physical demise of the body. It builds in a here and a there which does not exist. I sat right in the middle of the apparent contradictions. I did not move. I could feel the religious programming sloughing off in sheets.
When I shared my process with friends, I was reminded of a story. I think it was written about Papaji.
A student ask his master, “What am I doing wrong. I have surrendered completely. I have done everything you asked and still I have not met God.”
The master asks his student to walk with him to the River Ganges. They walk right into the water and wade in up to their waists. The master pushes the student’s head under the water and holds him down. Soon the student begins to struggle, to thrash his arms and legs, desperately trying to get his head above the water. The master maintains his grip. Just at the point when the student is about to drown the master releases him.
The student gasps and chokes trying to get air into his lungs. As he looks at the master’s face he hears, “When you want God as much as you wanted that breath, you will have Him.”