Am I going in the right direction?
A: Extreme physical feats—depriving the body of food and water, and other ordeals—can generate altered states and temporary highs, but to what end? Years ago, I traveled to the East and pursued many paths, until the search consumed itself and I came to rest. Today, numerous shamans, gurus, and guides are only too happy to take you on a tour of their chosen path. But all such paths are only classes in the School of Daily Life—part of a great adventure that teaches us all we need to know, never revealing what the next day will bring. This brings to mind the following story:
Each day shapes our lives as running water shapes a stone. —Anonymous
Near the end of World War II as American forces occupied Germany, two young men were captured and shipped to a U.S. POW camp. Interrogation failed—they would not or could not speak to American authorities and remained silent even among their fellow German prisoners, who insisted that they knew nothing about the pair. An expert in Asiatic languages soon determined that they were Tibetans. Overjoyed that someone was finally able to understand them, they told their story.
In the summer of 1941 the two friends, wishing to explore the world outside their tiny village, crossed Tibet’s northern frontier and wandered happily in Soviet territory for several weeks, until Russian authorities picked them up, put them on a train with hundreds of other young men, and shipped them west. At an army camp they were issued uniforms and rifles, given rudimentary military training, and loaded with other soldiers into trucks heading to the Russian front. Raised in a nonviolent Buddhist tradition, they were horrified to see men killing each other with artillery, rifles, even hand-to-hand fighting. Fleeing, they were captured by the Germans and again loaded onto a train—to Germany. Then, after the Normandy invasion—as American forces neared the German border—the hapless pair were forced into auxiliary service in the German army, given guns and told to fight. Again they fled from the carnage, until they were captured by the Americans and their puzzling wartime ordeal ended.
We often learn great lessons in simple and everyday ways. —Pearl S. Buck
The adventures of these two wanderers reflect our own travels through the school of life. Consider the twists and turns in your own journey—how daily life is your vision quest and school, revealing what it means to be human. This life, this moment, is your hero’s journey, your moment of truth, your near-death experience. Relationships, family, work, health, and finances are God’s Challenge Course. If you seek adventure, pay attention to each moment and find the miraculous within the mundane. Choose your courses from the Catalog. Find creative ways to serve family and community. In doing so, you discover the greatest vision quest of all.
Personal Applications
Your course work in the School of Life gradually reveals your unique purpose here. You will discover smaller, more immediate purposes, such as making breakfast, doing the laundry, driving to work. You will also find larger, long-range purposes, such as improving your body or your relationship, and making a contribution to your family, friends, and world. As we all learn life’s lessons and pursue our purposes, large and small, we acquire wisdom in the process.
List three immediate purposes you wish to accomplish today.
List, in order of priority, three larger purposes, goals, or dreams you would like to accomplish this year, this decade, or this lifetime.
Master teachers are found not only on lonely mountaintops or in ashrams of the East. Our teachers may take the form of friends and adversaries— of clouds, animals, wind, and water. Moment to moment, our teachers reveal all we need to know. The question is, are we paying attention? When the student is ready, the teacher appears everywhere.
Q: I have read many books and attended more workshops than I can count. But I need a personal teacher to guide me. Don’t people need a teacher, guru, or guide to complete the journey?
A: Practicing in isolation can breed illusions; we come to know ourselves best in relationship with others. And while we can learn much from books, a personal teacher can tailor guidance to our individual temperament and needs. Buddhism and other traditions recommend the trinity of a teacher, a teaching, and a community of practitioners as the ideal learning environment. But it’s a minefield out there: Even genuine teachers are sometimes corrupted by the adulation of their devotees. So be wary and wise; keep your eyes as wide open as your heart. Teachers need to earn their students’ trust over time. Avoid any who demand complete devotion from the beginning. Pay attention less to what teachers say than to what they do. And notice: Do their students live a life to which you aspire? Are they kind, compassionate, balanced, healthy, honest, open, respectful? Do they show a sense of humor? If not, look elsewhere.
Your teachers are numberless— the offered welcome and agony inflicted; every event and every circumstance is your teacher. —Bauls verse
Our approach to teachers often corresponds to three stages of life: childhood, adolescence, or adulthood. Children seek a parent to guide and protect them, and make good followers (and some teachers are happy to play parent). Adolescents reject authority and have a skeptical view of most teachers. Adults apply intelligent discernment, and learn what they can, where they can, whether from fools or sages, friends or adversaries, animals, infants, or elders. We also learn through experience and circumstance, hardship and insight. Consider this story:
Zembu, a young samurai, had an affair with the wife of his superior. When discovered, he slew the nobleman in self-defense, then fled to a distant province. Unable to find employment, he became a thief, until one morning, in a flash of understanding, Zembu saw what he had made of his life. To atone for the harm he had done, he resolved to accomplish some good deed as a sincere act of repentance. Soon after, while walking on a dangerous road over a cliff that had caused the death of many persons, he decided to cut a tunnel through the mountain. Begging food to sustain himself during the day, Zembu dug each night. Thirty years later, when the tunnel was two-thousand feet long and within a few months of completion, Zembu was confronted by Katsuo, a young samurai who had come to kill him to avenge the death of his father, the nobleman whom Zembu had slain years before.
Pay attention to your enemies, for they are the first to reveal your mistakes. —Antisthenes
Facing Katsuo’s sword, Zembu said, “I will gladly give you my life if you will only allow me to complete my work.” So Katsuo awaited impatiently as several months passed and Zembu kept digging. Seeing that Zembu was nearing the end, and tired of doing nothing, Katsuo began to help Zembu dig. As they worked side by side, Katsuo came to admire the older man’s strong will and character. Finally the tunnel was finished; travelers could now pass safely.
We are all teachers; the question is not whether we will teach, but what. —Anonymous
Zembu turned to the young swordsman. “My work is done. You may cut off my head,” he said. Tears flowed from Katsuo’s eyes as he asked, “How can I cut off my own teacher’s head?”
According to an ancient proverb, “We have no friends; we have no enemies; we only have teachers.” Find wisdom in whatever form it appears.
Q: I’m twenty-two years old and seeking meaning in life. I was thinking of going to India in a year or two, for a few months. But I have a two-year-old son. I’m struggling to decide what is right and honorable. I want to learn all I can, but my son needs me. What would you advise?
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