Cultivating Curiosity, Part One
This is the I Ching trigram for Fire. It symbolizes both the power and the vulnerability of knowledge, for although fire illumines the dark, it is utterly dependent on the wood that fuels it. As such, it represents the conscious mind’s desire to know, which leads us to great wisdom and great folly, both. It speaks of our need to be conscious of our conscious mind, honoring it as our first tool even as we recognize that we are still learning how to wield it honorably. By sensing the spiritual longing of Fire within, we train ourselves to embody inner Curiosity.
Absolute openness of awareness draws us back into seeing the world with new eyes. By developing passive attention, our minds relax and do not seize upon images and impressions as soon as they appear. This way, we stop leaping from the present moment to others we associate with the past or future.
The governing of attention does not, however, mean we remain in passive attention all the time—rather, it means we train ourselves to remain in passive attention longer than we are accustomed to. This allows us to store up creative energy that, once it has gained enough momentum, is discharged in creative acts forged in the fire of active attention.
The governing of attention, therefore, means that we train ourselves to shift back and forth between active and passive attention as the moment requires. Few of us nowadays, though, can sustain the undirected and unfocused knowing that precedes meaningful action. Indeed, it is our very thirst for meaning that pulls us out of the undifferentiated source of creativity and back into the conscious differentiation of mental categories and personal associations.
This kind of thirst for meaning is inauthentic because it stems from our discomfort with the oceanic experience of the one awareness that is the source of creativity, insight, problem-solving, and belonging. Rather than taking joy in temporarily dissolving the limitations of the conscious self by communing with the Universal Self, we fear the loss of our individual identity and pull back from the brink of awe before we are transformed.
By not staying in awe long enough, we lose our sense of wonder and no longer look at each moment as utterly new and full of unimaginable potential. By not staying in awe long enough, in other words, we no longer see things as they really are. And so we stop advancing easily and naturally along a course infinitely more rewarding than any we could have plotted for ourselves.
This inauthentic thirst for meaning arises from our belief that the highest expression of free will lies in exercising control over the circumstances in our lives by making decisions consistent with our values and goals. Honing our intent to serve our own self-interest like this means that all our actions are predetermined and predictable—the very opposite of the free will we had sought.
The more predictably we act out of short-sighted self-interest like this, the more we react to large-scale circumstances in the same way as everyone around us. While such lemming-like behavior allows us to be accepted by those around us, this kind of conformity breaks our spirit, deadens our creativity, and trivializes our life.
Instead of finding meaning, we create meaninglessness. This is so because something acquires meaning only when we can place it within a larger context—when everything relates to my own self-interest, however, I lack the larger context within which to place my life. Without anything greater than myself against which to situate my actions, I am left with a profound sense of loss, alienation, and meaninglessness.
Keep in mind here that we all claim to have something higher we believe in and to which we dedicate our lives. But we are trying to speak honestly here and to reason through our common obstacles, so let us not indulge in self-deception or dissembling. For the moment, set aside what you say, set aside what you want others to think of you, set aside what you want to think of yourself—when it comes to actions, you are a rare and exceptional individual if you place the interests of others ahead of your own.
Yet all this goes against the wisdom teachings of the elders, who make it abundantly clear that the ultimate expression of free will lies in surrendering to the higher will of the universal source.
What then does such surrender feel like? What is the inner experience like?
It feels like drifting on the great ocean without rudder or sail. It is the recognition that, although I know how to navigate by the stars, I have no concept of my destination. I voluntarily give up my efforts to direct my own course—and quite naturally allow the breeze to carry off any maps drawn by others. I trust the soundness of my raft, fashioned from the timbers of passive attention and lashed together with the cord of active attention. I move with the vast serpentine currents of the great sea, carried where it goes. No longer embroiled in a journey with a goal and destination, I embark on the primordial journey of exploration.
The inner experience of such surrender is your sudden recognition in a moment of calm that the journey of exploration is itself the destination and that, without striving for it, you have entered the ecstatic life.
There is an absent-minded pirate who wanders aimlessly, wondering aloud, Now where did I bury that treasure?
The problem is that we ourselves have grown so absent-minded that we would not recognize our part in the story even if we had an eye patch, a peg leg, and a parrot on our shoulder constantly repeating in our own voice, Now where did I bury that treasure?
We have forgotten, in other words, that we ourselves hid our priceless treasure in just that place we would be sure to look once we were prepared to use it wisely.
Even worse—we have forgotten to keep looking.
The wisdom teachings are replete with such stories.
A widow fell ill, for instance, and lost all her belongings except the priceless jewel she had inherited. Fearing creditors would try to steal it, she sewed the jewel into the coat of her only child so that he might never want for anything. But her illness worsened suddenly and she died before telling her son about the jewel sewn into his coat. The young man fell on hard times. Impoverished and homeless, he wandered the land, suffering gravely in his loneliness and misfortune. One day, as he was performing another menial task for another bowl of thin broth, his threadbare coat caught on a nail and tore open. To the young man’s amazement, out toppled the priceless heirloom, changing his life forever.
Or, similarly, a desert saint taught the people of his village by one day riding his donkey through the crowded marketplace, whipping it into a frenzy, upsetting carts and scattering the busy barterers, all the while shouting accusingly at everyone he passed, Who stole my donkey? Who stole my donkey?
And so on.
We possess immeasurable wealth without knowing it.
The very thing we are seeking has been carrying us through life all along.
And the treasure is buried right before our eyes.
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The above is an excerpt from The Spiritual Basis of Good Fortune by William Douglas Horden.
If you’d like to learn more, visit the website: http://spiritualbasisofgoodfortune.com/
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The Toltec I Ching, by Martha Ramirez-Oropeza and William Douglas Horden has just received a Silver Award in the 2010 Nautilus Awards. It recasts the I Ching in the symbology of the Native Americans of ancient Mexico and includes original illustrations interpreting each of the hexagrams. Its subtitle, 64 Keys to Inspired Action in the New World hints at its focus on the ethics of the emerging world culture.
Click here to go to the main site to see sample chapters, reviews and the link to Larson Publications for ordering the book.
