Escape Into Chris - Entry 21

Stefano Unterthiner

Early 2007- Normal, IL

10 minutes before work, I’m sitting in the front hall of Heartland College, eating my apple. A man, middle-aged, wearing a sport jacket and a baseball cap with a briefcase, says hello to me in a placid tone. He stands looking out the window and then comes and sits by me. “What a glorious day” he says. Now I’m assessing his character; I peg him as a Mormon. Something about the phrase, “Glorious day”. But I was sitting in this very spot not too long ago, in fact, I was writing a poem about the day from this window. “So where are you on your journey?” the strange man says to me. Now I am convinced he is a religious nut. My voice is hesitant… how do you answer that kind of question to someone you’ve never met before? “My journey?” I say. Well, I’ve gotten clean from drugs and alcohol about three years ago.” He does not congratulate me or applaud. The man’s face is egg-shaped, his skin is freshly shaven, his baseball cap is fit tightly over his egg-shaped head.

“Are you content?” he asks. Now I’m skeptical, just waiting for the Christian segment to come in at any time. “Content”, I say, “Do you mean in a permanent sense?” “Yes, I mean permanent, sustained contentment.” “I don’t believe in permanent happiness. That’s a false happiness if you ask me.” My voice is rigid and defensive. “There’s a difference between contentment and happiness”, he says. “Well, what’s your definition of happiness?” I ask. He takes a moment to pause and then raises his hand in a gesture. “At one end, you have euphoria and happiness, and on the other end misery and suffering.” He holds his right hand directly in front of his nose and he is looking down at his hand as if it were a ruler. “In the center of the spectrum,” he says, speaking slowly, “Contentment.”

I jump in – “No, contentment is just a little toward the more positive end – but just a little. That is where you want to be. But in life, you’ll probably have certain events happen to you – such as the death of a family member or economic setbacks. And you will lose all that contentment. Or you may be thrown into ecstasy or elation. His hand is now directly in front of his nose and he’s staring straight down at it, his voice very slow and hypnotic. But I listen to him because he is talking about emotions. And I am surprised a Christian or Mormon would be so interested in “The spectrum of emotion.” However, I’m still fearful he would bring up some information about his church or about Jesus. So I tell the man with the baseball cap that I have to go to work, which I did. I had to go to work. “Well, it was nice to meet you,” he said, “And good luck on your journey.”

Michael N. Nagler

If we could trace where a desire arises from--and the Upanishads do repeatedly--we would find that in most cases something--a thought, an external event--has stirred up some wisp of the vague sense of incompleteness we harbor beneath the floor of surface consciousness as long as we are not identified with our Self. We immediately misinterpret this stirring as a desire for something outside of us. This is maya: misinterpreting the longing for union within as a call for something outside the Self.

The Upanishads go a step further. When we have the sensation "I want such-and-such," what we really mean is that we want the relative tranquility that follows when a desire subsides. As the great sage of Ramana Maharshi, who was very close to the Upanishads in spirit, once declared, "There is no happiness in any object of the world." The Self is pure happiness, which we mistake as coming from the outside; so the closer we come to the Self within, the more we are aware of--the more we feel already--what we are looking for outside us. This is what the Upanishads mean by joy. "Renunciation" refers simply to dropping the outside reflection for the reality which is within.