Ryan Wilson2:
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| I used to think that line about the teacher arriving when the student is ready was pretty profound... until I applied a little logic and realized it’s actually quite a hollow, half-baked idea. I mean, let's be real—a teacher isn't even a teacher without a student. |
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Exactly! See, the issue is that it isn't even the right way to phrase it. 🙂The correct version uses the verb "to appear," rather than "to come." There is a massive distinction there. I have to emphasize again that a teacher doesn't necessarily have to be a human being; they can be any segment of the Totality. The thing is, the teacher exists as a principle, not just an individual. The fundamental difference between a principle and an individual is that a principle teaches simply by existing—it provides an existential example—whereas an individual often comes with their own personal agenda.
Consequently, the student simply notices (the principle) the teacher within things, phenomena, and even people that they weren't capable of perceiving in that way before. Because they weren't ready. You get what I mean?
Well then, at least try to give me a rough explanation of that sense of Totality you get when you finally quiet the mind.
Look, my only problem is that this sensation is—as I mentioned earlier—far too vast for conventional words. I can mention certain feelings... the feeling of the planet beneath my feet. The weight of the clouds. The current of consciousness from billions of living beings all around us. The timelessness of the moment... and so on. But those are just words; they can't convey the essence of the thing. For someone else to grasp the essence, they have to experience it themselves. I once tried to explain to a friend what it feels like to let your consciousness flow through a tree. I didn't succeed while standing face-to-face with a particularly magnificent oak, so I highly doubt I'd have more luck doing it over the internet... 🙂
Fair point... I guess my only problem with running marathons is that I can't actually run them.
Nobody is saying meditation is a finished task accomplished in a single afternoon. On the contrary, as a person grows into the technique, their abilities increase—much like physical training. But the principle remains the same. Now, obviously, I am nowhere near the level of concentration or depth achieved by people who have been practicing this much longer than I have. But I *do* know that I can shut out the necessary elements of noise and chaos to reach a meditative state on a bus full of screaming kids. Though, I absolutely cannot stand mosquitoes. That's why a conscientious spiritual leader should always carry a supply of Autan on them. :P
Alexander Parker69:
Are you sure about that? Honestly, I must have been drunk every time I read stories about how certain teachers would literally babble nonsense to their actual students—their "spiritual sons"—who could have had everything they owned, yet refused to take this crowd of greedy people looking for blessings, healings, passing off responsibility, spiritual inflation, and general buffoonery.
The desire to pass on knowledge is as natural to humans as the drive to have children. However, that desire has less to do with spiritual teaching and more with a simple attempt to secure a kind of quasi-immortality—ensuring our work is passed down to younger generations so that our knowledge, which largely constitutes what we call the "self," won't vanish forever when our bodies eventually fail us. In the pursuit of a "true student," there is also the factor of wanting people who will truly understand us. One person who understands us to the core is worth more than legions of people who just flatter us, or simply nod along while simultaneously translating everything we say into whatever they want to hear.
A few times now, people have actually approached me asking if I could mentor them or teach them certain things. But—to be perfectly honest—it’s not just that I don't feel ready to step into a formal teaching role; I've realized that I don't even really want students. What I'm actually looking for are companions—people I can walk alongside, sharing experiences and perspectives as we go. After all, these paths are incredibly solitary by nature. Everyone has their own unique journey to navigate, and I've never been much of a believer in following a pre-packaged caravan.