A Healthy Sense of Doom

WELL, DECEMBER 21, 2012 has finally come and gone. Or has it? Is not every moment, nakedly met, cataclysmic to our inner “knower?” Aren’t we all secretly pining for the day when the apocalypse of preconception finally rushes over us — even as we shiver in dread at its approach? Without a healthy sense of doom, after all, why build a healthy bunker (daily meditation and self-inquiry), and without the attendant capacity for meditative relating, how will the transcendence-parched teenager within us walk through the armageddon of automated egos that passes for “society” without wanting to figuratively (or literally) gun the zombies down?

Truthfully, there is never a moment when the mind isn’t sensing an approaching apocalypse. Even the best conversations and hugs wind down into a moment of energetic degeneration, old age and death. Do we have feelings about these relentless death spirals? Oh yes. But we have trained (over lifetimes?) to distract, disembody and numb. Yet, learning to face — and feel — the wispy, unreliable quality of every dreamlike relationship in the phenomenal world is part and parcel of “being present.” As morbid as meditating on impermanence may be to the mind, it alone is the solar flare that drives us down into the bunker of our true nature where we experience the sublimity of “relating as awareness, to awareness.” 

Why has spirituality devolved into buzzy, “cappuccino awakenings?” Why are we so squeamish about relating meditatively? Because “being present” means feeling into the everyday slow-drip obliteration of virtually every outer thing that orients us and tells us who we are. Because naked seeing forces us to finally face the truth: the melodramatic Mayan “killshot” is small potatoes compared to the machine gun spray of birth/death cycles delivered by Samsara.

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