“Are you doing the work”

This question comes to see us a lot.

All sorts of contexts.

I’m not personally asking you this question right now in any context. I’m just saying.

Sometimes when the question comes to see me, I bat it away because I’m not in the mood. Maybe, um, most of the time.

The question came to see me a couple of days ago.

I was watching a video of one of my favorite spiritual teachers, Craig Holliday. I like him because he’s gentle and friendly, like a cosmic preschool teacher. He talks softly, like we all have level five sunburns on our beings and the wrong voice could abrade us dreadfully. I realize that what I’ve just described sounds like it could be annoying—that preschool teacher-y softness—and it did take me a bit to adjust to his cadence, but the truth is that something deep inside me is terrified of,

what.

Existence. Maybe.

I appreciate—and possibly require—the message in his sound, which is

“You’re okay.” “It’s okay.”

I also like him because he’s gone through a Kundalini awakening, which is something I’ve been reckoning with for a decade now myself. Kundalini awakenings come in a lot of different flavors, and mine is physically intense more than anything else, which I think I’m grateful for. Some people get struck with pervasive terror, some people experience wild, uncontrollable heat and bliss and sexual energy, which sounds like a mixed bag.

No terror, no bliss, no heat over here. It’s more like I’m a construction site, with what feel like jackhammers and vacuums and drills running in my body a few days a week, some slo-mo detonation feelings. Often incredibly uncomfortable but rarely painful. Hard to explain. Anyway, I appreciate a teacher who’s lived through this kind of thing.

A couple of days ago I was having a particularly intense day with the Kundalini and I needed to hear somebody I trust talk about it to help me get through. Sometimes the way you wear a problem eases things, even if the problem itself hasn’t budged. I went to Craig’s YouTube channel and chose a video to watch.

You guessed it, there was the question.

Are you doing the work

The question caught me on a good day.

We’re talking about spiritual work in this context, no shock. The question was, here, are you meditating? Not sometimes, not for five minutes when you feel like it, but every day, for real. The question was also, are you taking care of your body? Are you engaging in some form of movement that brings you into a strong, good relationship with your body?

So…no…and no. Nope. No.

Normally, I’d just whisper “no” to myself and move on, but that day I was willing to sit with it.

No, but why not? And also what are you doing? And why are you alive?

Somebody somewhere* recently (not Craig, someone else) was talking about admiration, and how trying to set yourself up to be admired is dangerous, and how it’s better to surround yourself with people that you admire.

*I can’t say who, when, where. It was on…the internet.

I was thinking about who I admire, and the qualities I tend to admire, and spiritual dedication is one of them. There’s something so brave about it, I think.

My husband, Dave, is a spiritually dedicated person, for example. Before we met he was on the verge of entering monastic life, in the Zen flavor. He’d decided to go for it but then we met and everything went a whole ‘nother way. Even so, he has his flame lit. He’s got a deep enough desire for the truth of existence—whatever that may be—that he goes inside to take a look every day. He’s not too scared. I love this about him.

I’ve heard the admonishment a bazillion times “Meditate like your hair’s on fire” and me, I’m like, well, not now. I’m reading a magazine. I’m shopping for slippers. No can do. There’s a Hafiz poem called “Bring the Man to Me” which I’ve always loved. Here it comes:

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedA Perfect One was traveling through the desert.He was stretched out around the fire one nightand said to one of his close ones,"There is a slave loose not far from us.He escaped today from a cruel master.His hands are still bound behind his back,his feet are also shackled.I can see him right now praying for God's help.Go to him.Ride to that distant hill;About a hundred feet up and to the rightyou will find a small cave.He is there.Do not say a single word to him.Bring the man to me.God requests that I personally untie his bodyand press my lips to his wounds."The disciple mounts his horse and within two hoursarrives at the small mountain cave.The slave sees him coming, the slave looks frightened.The disciple, on orders not to speak,gestures toward the sky, pantomiming:God saw you in prayer,please come with me,A great teacher has used his heart's divine eyeto know your whereabouts.The slave cannot believe this story,and begins to shout at the man and tries to runbut trips from his bindings.The disciple becomes forced to subdue him.Think of this picture as they now travel:The million candles in the sky are lit and singing.Every particle of existence is a dancing altarthat some mysterious force worships.The earth is a church floor whereuponin the middle of a glorious nightwalks a slave, weeping, tied to a rope behind a horse,with a speechless ridertaking him toward the unknown.Several times with all of his might the slavetries to break free,feeling he is being returned to captivity.The rider stops, dismounts-brings his eyesnear the prisoner's eyes.A deep kindness there communicates an unbelievable hope.The rider motions-soon, soon you will be free.Tears roll down from the rider's cheeks.in happiness for this man.Anger, all this fighting and tormenting want,Mashuq,God has seen you and sent a close one.Mashuq,God has seen your heart in prayerAnd sent me.

*mashuq = Persian for “sweetheart”

I joke with Dave about feeling like this blindfolded abductee getting dragged away from The Mall* to Who Knows Where and I’m like NO STOP, GO BACK, I WANT AN ORANGE JULIUS. LET ME OUT OF HERE, I’M GOING BACK TO THE MALL, I WANT CUTE SANDALS.

*normal Earthly existence with ego stuff, desire, The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, etc.

Something in me wants the big thing, the big truth, whatever it is. I want to follow the river to the source. I’ve heard good things. I certainly don’t want to skip it if it’s on offer.

Something else in me thinks this is a terrible idea, the worst, deadly, a hideous mistake.

Are you doing the work

All right, all right. I hear you.

I have a choice to make now (the only time ever available for choices, seeing as it’s the only time ever available) and I guess we all have a choice to make now, about our work. The work we, each individually, understand to be important. The work where, if we do it, we can say that we really went for it in this life. We weren’t too scared to place our bets.

I have some inklings about what to do. I think, with true reluctance, that it’s time for stronger choices.