I’ve been feeling frustrated lately. Sitting at home with a burning desire to do something, something in the real world with real people, but nothing worthwhile seems to be within reach at the moment. This is where that enlightment stuff was supposed to fit… It was supposed to not matter anymore, whether or not I am “satisfied”.
I find myself researching the “teachers”. Mooji, Papaji and others that stem from them. This woman, Gangaji, intrigued me. I watched a few of her videos and she seemed to be totally independent of what was going on when she was being interviewed, which is a convincing quality. She has a husband, Eli Jaxon-Bear, who is also a “teacher” and he had a 3 year affair with one of his students. The fact that it matters to me whether these teachers are legit really bothers me. What if I found out that Mooji is a pedophile, or that Krishnamurti had some horrible skeleton in his closet, would that end my ambition? I want this search to be independent of any external encouragement. There is something valuable in itself that is coming from this. A shining feeling in my chest, and sometimes a kind of peace that really drenches me. I wanted to say “swallows” me, but there isn’t the finality of a swallow to it. Normal people, they’re not so bad. They want things, they want to look back on a life of achievement. They have warmth sometimes. Am I OK being like that? Sometimes I want to be “better” than that. But really, I just don’t want that. I cant be free from people’s judgement, I cant be free to express, I cant be completely unhindered if I am playing the game that my mind has set for me. My mind is my conditioning and my conditioning is the opinions of others. To give authority to my mind is to give authority to everyone else.
So I guess I’ve been seeking for a long time. I’ve watched a lot of Jiddu Krishnamurti and Eckhart Tolle, and recently Mooji. I always considered enlightenment to be something that might be possible, an other-worldly, unimaginable state of being. I always seem to fall back into this mediocre place of accepting that it is nothing more than a practice to make my life better. The gravity to my ego will always be there, it can only be negotiated with, softened. I have to live with my ego on a leash, and that is the best I can do. Maybe it’s not. Maybe it can vanish, maybe I can starve it. Maybe it’s like that.