Café Consciousness

Five years ago I entered a Buddhist Sangha. The concept was extremely simple. You sit, walk, sit, and drink tea. It wasn’t overly difficult but given time back then and I could turn the melody of three blind mice into Beethoven’s 9th. One aspect of the gathering that terrified me was the possibility of committing idolatry. By bowing to the Buddha, the dharma, and to the Sangha, I was certain that I would burn in hell. I’m completely serious. The graven image of the Buddha really sent me over the edge; nothing like being soiled by the regurgitations of a toxic faith. Ironically a year later I would venerate icons at an Eastern Orthodox Church, so to say its funny how rationalizations can justify behavior is an understatement.

Today I sat across from two of the core members of Eastside Sangha, Marty, who was a co-founder, and Paul who took over the group when Marty left. It was amazing to see each of us a little older and thankfully a little wiser from our journeys. The conversation was just as deep as any dharma discussion we’ve ever had with one huge difference, the edge of judgmental bias had dulled. I remember watching a National Geographic program that showed a group reaction of chimpanzees when a stuffed leopard surprised them. The chimps screamed and touched one another’s mouth as a symbol of unity and assurance when faced with a threat. I can recall a time when my affiliations were only with others of like mind and our conversations resembled the chimpanzee’s reaction as we huddled together against ideological threats.

The last five years have seemed to mellow us all. Hills we chose to die on then seem comical now. The box I crafted to hold the ceremonial tea set is still in use and I am honored they think of me when preparing refreshments. It felt good to exchange ideas without the compulsion to change my entire wardrobe of thought. Years ago it had to be black or white, no middle way for me. Today I’m able to appreciate the beauty of different paths having suffered the ridicule for such ventures. Empathy is rarely offered until we are affected personally.

Walking to our cars afterward I confessed to Paul that I searched my heart in preparation for our meeting to see if I owed him any amends. We were all passionate about our beliefs and each couldn’t be confused with facts because we already made up our minds. After a long period of contemplation over coffee this morning, I couldn’t remember what the rifts were about. He too had forgotten our differences or his graciousness has reached a level I’m not yet familiar with, I’m not certain of which. If I were to venture a guess it was probably over religion, war, or politics. Some in the Sangha are recovering from all three.

I was genuinely happy to see the humorous spark in Paul’s eyes hadn’t diminished. He confessed that he was practicing an “I don’t know” meditation which is driving his wife crazy. When she asks about the certainty of a particular subject that he seemed so versed in before he has to respond, “I don’t know” because there may be other avenues of thought he hasn’t considered. It would seem the lightening strike of possibilities has struck him as well. I confessed that the interconnectedness of all things was a little overwhelming to comprehend five years ago. It took time and a whole lot of arguments to propel me into acceptance that we are all struggling and in need of each other’s assistance. Science has proven through testing of 43 women on different continents and of different races that they all share a single source female DNA. So not only are we all connected but we’re also all related. Perhaps interconnectedness is not simply a state of mind?

I didn’t feel the need to mention my Catholic pursuit to Paul. Marty knows of my decision because he’s my sponsor having made the step to convert a month and a half ago. I don’t think it really matters one way or the other now to Paul. Sure we still extended a toe to test the waters of acceptance with our stories disguising our beliefs, but we spoke with mutual respect and enjoyment having left the baggage that divided us in a room over tea five years ago. We are brothers on the same journey.

Perhaps Tuesday evening I will sit, walk, sit, and drink tea?