Today a buddy from our meditation group told me about an interesting conversation he had over the weekend with a fellow he knows. My buddy occasionally pals around with some guys he’s known a long time who are what we might call “Tennesee hillbillies”. He described the fellow he had the conversation with as a shy uneducated redneck. The fellow works as a lawn maintenance man for a nearby community doing mowing, weedeating, and cleanup work.
My friend remembers that in a past conversation the guy once told him that when he is weedeating, the weedeater becomes like an extension of his own body. In that past conversation, my friend remembers him saying something like, “When I’m weedeating, its like I can’t tell where I stop and the weedeater begins; it’s all just one thing. It's like I'm the weedeater itself.”
Well, this weekend my friend and the guy were with a group of men sharing beers at a tavern located in the middle of nowhere, several miles from town. When they were alone for a few minutes, the guy began talking about how he occasionally has to go into a ballpark during the middle of a game at night, to re-line the field. The guy explained that he never liked going out in front of a crowd of people to do this task. He said, “I was so uncomfortable being looked at by the people in the stadium that the only way I learned to get through it was to concentrate so strongly on the white line I was re-marking that everything else disappeared. This may sound crazy, but I found that by keeping my attention focused totally on the white line I was making, everything went away—all the people in the stadium, the ball players, and even me. Time seemed to stop, and it was only after I had finished re-lining the field and walked off into the shadows that I became conscious of anything other than what I was doing.”
My friend, who has meditated for more than twenty years, gone on silent Zen retreats, and read tons of spiritual books about non-duality, was fascinated by this story, and began to ask the guy more questions about his life. He learned that the fellow often goes deep into the woods to hunt for arrowheads. He drives a truck until the road stops, and then gets onto a four-wheeler and drives several more miles on jeep trails until he comes to large bluffs where he digs for relics with a small shovel. He said, “I don’t tell people about my life much because it makes me uncomfortable, and I think they’d think I’m nuts, but when I go out into the woods all alone, I return to my True Self.”
When the guy mentioned the words “True Self,” my friend was astounded, because this fellow has never read anything about non-duality. Consequently, my friend asked him to explain more. The guy said, “Well, it’s like there is only being or something, but its not me. It IS me, but not in the usual sense. It’s a little like what happens when I have to re-line the baseball diamond in public. Time goes away and the whole world becomes like my own body. It's weird, but I’m no longer me in the way that most people think.”
He then explained that when he digs in the dirt under the bluff, he often forgets about the time completely and stays until he realizes that it’s almost dark and he has to leave while he can still see the trail. He said, “When I’m out there all alone, it’s like I’m even the Indians that made the arrowheads; I seem to be everywhere and yet nowhere. My eyes are not even my eyes. I know that sounds stupid, but it’s really hard to explain.”
My friend spent an hour talking to the guy, and was amazed at many things he said. Later, they were discussing some friends of theirs, and the guy said, “Well, you know, some of our friends are really unconscious whereas some of them have a little bit of consciousness. I don’t think any of them would know what we’re talking about. You’re the only guy who seems to understand what I’ve been trying to describe. It’s sort of like everybody is asleep. It’s as if they’ve lost their True Self.”
My friend, who was telling this story, said, “Bob, it was really unbelievable. This guy has no education, and he’s never read any of the books we’ve read, but he’s totally THERE.” I said, “Wow, his story about how he learned to focus on the white line as a way of dealing with his shyness in public is amazing. Apparently he spends a lot of time doing what I like to call “attending the actual.” My friend said, “Yep, it’s just like Hui Neng, the woodchopper. Most people spend their time thinking, and this guy, by contrast, just naturally spends most of his time totally engrossed in whatever activity he’s involved in, and in doing so he loses his selfhood. I remember being surprised when he first told me about what happens when he’s weedeating, but this weekend what he said just blew me away. He now seems to spend most of his time, if not all of his time, aware of oneness. ”
I thought to myself, "No, it sounds like he is oneness aware AS oneness."
AAR, this story was so great that I wanted to share it here. It illustrates that education is not necessary for waking up. The only requirement is to follow the white line!
My friend remembers that in a past conversation the guy once told him that when he is weedeating, the weedeater becomes like an extension of his own body. In that past conversation, my friend remembers him saying something like, “When I’m weedeating, its like I can’t tell where I stop and the weedeater begins; it’s all just one thing. It's like I'm the weedeater itself.”
Well, this weekend my friend and the guy were with a group of men sharing beers at a tavern located in the middle of nowhere, several miles from town. When they were alone for a few minutes, the guy began talking about how he occasionally has to go into a ballpark during the middle of a game at night, to re-line the field. The guy explained that he never liked going out in front of a crowd of people to do this task. He said, “I was so uncomfortable being looked at by the people in the stadium that the only way I learned to get through it was to concentrate so strongly on the white line I was re-marking that everything else disappeared. This may sound crazy, but I found that by keeping my attention focused totally on the white line I was making, everything went away—all the people in the stadium, the ball players, and even me. Time seemed to stop, and it was only after I had finished re-lining the field and walked off into the shadows that I became conscious of anything other than what I was doing.”
My friend, who has meditated for more than twenty years, gone on silent Zen retreats, and read tons of spiritual books about non-duality, was fascinated by this story, and began to ask the guy more questions about his life. He learned that the fellow often goes deep into the woods to hunt for arrowheads. He drives a truck until the road stops, and then gets onto a four-wheeler and drives several more miles on jeep trails until he comes to large bluffs where he digs for relics with a small shovel. He said, “I don’t tell people about my life much because it makes me uncomfortable, and I think they’d think I’m nuts, but when I go out into the woods all alone, I return to my True Self.”
When the guy mentioned the words “True Self,” my friend was astounded, because this fellow has never read anything about non-duality. Consequently, my friend asked him to explain more. The guy said, “Well, it’s like there is only being or something, but its not me. It IS me, but not in the usual sense. It’s a little like what happens when I have to re-line the baseball diamond in public. Time goes away and the whole world becomes like my own body. It's weird, but I’m no longer me in the way that most people think.”
He then explained that when he digs in the dirt under the bluff, he often forgets about the time completely and stays until he realizes that it’s almost dark and he has to leave while he can still see the trail. He said, “When I’m out there all alone, it’s like I’m even the Indians that made the arrowheads; I seem to be everywhere and yet nowhere. My eyes are not even my eyes. I know that sounds stupid, but it’s really hard to explain.”
My friend spent an hour talking to the guy, and was amazed at many things he said. Later, they were discussing some friends of theirs, and the guy said, “Well, you know, some of our friends are really unconscious whereas some of them have a little bit of consciousness. I don’t think any of them would know what we’re talking about. You’re the only guy who seems to understand what I’ve been trying to describe. It’s sort of like everybody is asleep. It’s as if they’ve lost their True Self.”
My friend, who was telling this story, said, “Bob, it was really unbelievable. This guy has no education, and he’s never read any of the books we’ve read, but he’s totally THERE.” I said, “Wow, his story about how he learned to focus on the white line as a way of dealing with his shyness in public is amazing. Apparently he spends a lot of time doing what I like to call “attending the actual.” My friend said, “Yep, it’s just like Hui Neng, the woodchopper. Most people spend their time thinking, and this guy, by contrast, just naturally spends most of his time totally engrossed in whatever activity he’s involved in, and in doing so he loses his selfhood. I remember being surprised when he first told me about what happens when he’s weedeating, but this weekend what he said just blew me away. He now seems to spend most of his time, if not all of his time, aware of oneness. ”
I thought to myself, "No, it sounds like he is oneness aware AS oneness."
AAR, this story was so great that I wanted to share it here. It illustrates that education is not necessary for waking up. The only requirement is to follow the white line!
