November - Chapter 4
In the model of Groucho Marx, who once famously said I would not join any club that would have me as a member, I am very careful about who tinkers with my suffering. My sense of unsatisfactoriness. Which I
also observe to be impermanent. Sometimes, in fact, everything is perfectly satisfactory.
Suppose I just get out of the way and let the Spirit or the Intelligence, as opposed to my intellect, do the work. Get the pathology of the system back into a better adapted state. No longer suffering from what are, in effect, undigested life experiences. It would be super-intelligent to let Intelligence do the work instead of relying just on my intellect and partial knowledge.
That would, in my view, open the possibility of rebirth, right now, in the present into a form no longer modified by my undigested life. It is my belief and to some extent, experience, that rebirth is not just about what happens when I fall off my twig, but rather more, combined with awareness, what is happening right now, in the present. As Aldous Huxley said, In actuality, there is no life outside the life of experience. Let us revere the experience, not just the theory or the concept.
Let me break off to read a little poem, then I will get back to how I set about getting out of the way of Intelligence and letting it do the work.
Who I Really Am
No beginning, only Process.
The Spirit reincarnates.
Birth and Life
The meeting of the unfolding and the experience.
Layer upon layer of delusion.
I have become I and forgotten.
Yesterday was and tomorrow will be-or so it seems.
A tide there is,
An ocean then.
Beneath the waves,
There is only still.
And I remember who I am.
The Ocean stirs.
There is only process.