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On Christian Enlightenment
by Philip St.
Romain
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On Christian Enlightenment
by Philip St.
Romain
About the
Author
The
Experience
Description
of the State
Conditions
for Realizing the State
Christianity
and Enlightenment
On Christian
Enlightenment (copyrighted, 1996) is a "shareware book" written by Philip St. Romain (phil@shalomplace.com). This means that if you are reading these words and you make use of this book, you are honor-bound to do something to express your gratitude for it (postcard, E Mail, box of candy, $1,000 check, whatever. . .). Feel free to print the book, and to distribute it--only each and every owner is bound by "shareware morality" to say thanks in some way. Philip's mailing address is 4101 N. Edgemoor. Wichita, KS. 67220.
About
the Author
Philip St. Romain is director of Contemplative Ministries, Inc., and a member of the team at Heartland Center for Spirituality. He is also the author of many books on prayer and spirituality, including Praying the Daily
Gospels (Liguori
Publ., 1995) and
Kundalini Energy and Christian Spirituality. Married to author Lisa Bellecci-st.romain, and the father of three children, Philip resides in Wichta, Kansas. For more information about him and his publications, visit his website at http://shalomplace.com/ .
The
Experience
For several years now, I have been experiencing what I have called an "awareness state," or "cosmic stat." in my journals. It may not be appropriate to call it enlightenment since that terminology belongs to the Zen tradition, and my own experience has not been validated or confirmed by a representative from Zen. The term, "Christian enlightenment," is, perhaps, sufficient nuancing since it acknowledges both the context in which this state has been developed and its similarity to the Zen experience.
My first experience of this was while taking a shower sometime in
1988. It was just a regular old shower--not particularly enjoyable.
But at some point, I "noticed" the droplets of water running down the
wall and felt as though I had entered another world. There was
nothing outstanding about these droplets, only that I found myself
oberving them in such a manner that they were immediately present to
me. I use the words "I" and "me" here only as conventions of
language, for what was most unique about the "experience" was that it
was as though there was no personal, intentional self at all.
Observer and observed had fused somehow; the droplets were dribbling
"inside of me." Within a few seconds (I don't really know how long it
was), my mind snapped into action and I began to try to understand
what had happened. The experience vanished just as quickly as it had
arisen.
During the days and weeks that followed, this sort of thing happened
again and again. I would be talking to someone, walking, working in
the garden, and then all of a sudden, I was immediately present to
what was happening. All boundaries seemed to disappear, and with
them, all fear. I did not know what was causing this to happen,
although I sensed that it had something to do with the deepening of
my prayer, and the activity of the energy I was calling kundalini in
my brain--especially in the third eye.
Having experienced contemplative prayer many times through the years,
I noted similarities between this new experience and contemplation.
There were distinctive differences, too, however. Whenever I
experienced contemplative prayer, there was absolutely no doubt that
I was in God's presence. The silence was of varying degrees,
sometimes so deep that the mind could not even think, other times a
bit more shallow, as in the prayer of quiet. I felt as though I was
being grasped from deep within by God, and was being drawn to deeper
union with God through the energy of love. This new experience was
similar to mystical contemplation in the depth of mental silence and
in the clarity of perception which ensued. It was distinctly
different, however, in that there was no sense whatsoever of a
relational union with God through love. In fact, it seemed as though
God disappeared completely (or else "I" disappeared); it is difficult
to describe this non-duality, but that is one of it's primary
characteristics.
After a year or so, I had learned how to "tune in" to this state, and
how I fell out of it. No operation of the mind or will could produce
it; what was called for was a certain shifting of my awareness from
the particular to the general, then the state came in an of itself.
It was never the same in depth and clarity; the condition of my body,
mind, and intention seemed to account for something of its intensity
and clarity, but not its manfiestation. In time, I came to see that
this state was, in fact, always there, and had always been there. It
was the "background consciousness" out of which all my experiences of
intentional consciousness had arisen. Everyone has it, only most
people take it for granted and don't know how to tune into it.
Description
of the State
It is difficult to make positive statements about this
state. In fact, there is a danger doing so, for the mind can then
latch onto the words and try to create something similar using its
own creativity. As I have mentioned, however, the mind can do nothing
to create this state; it adds nothing to it, and enriches it in no
way. It is possible to think while in this state, although there is a
very definite disinclination toward judgmental thinking, philosophy,
theology, and other exercises of the mind which attempt to organize
reality in conceptual terms, or to project judgments onto it. And
yet, it is possible to think out plans, to converse, to create, to
describe, and to do all kinds of non-analytical things with the mind
while in this state. That is a positive thing to say about it: its
intuitive and creative manner of dealing with things.
Again, words are a danger, for the intuitition I am referring to here
is more mystical than imaginative. This is not the intuition of Jung,
but of the mystic, who knows things without knowing how she or he
knows them. This kind of intuition is quite at home with sensory
awareness, while Jung's is not. In the state of cosmic awareness,
there can be intuitive knowing happening simultaneously with profound
sensory perception. Cosmic awareness is not an introverted state, nor
is it extroverted. Inner and outer have no meaning in this state, for
it seems that there is no boundary between the inner and the outer.
"External" events like a bird singing or the sun shining seem to be
happening inside of one's being just as surely as they are happening
outside. The unity of all things is a reality experienced in varying
degrees of depth, depending on the quality of the state.
In particularly intense experiences of unity, I have a sense that the
one who is looking out of my eyes is looking out of every one else's
eyes, including animals' and even plants'. Plants have no physical
eyes, of course, but it seems, nonetheless, that they are apertures
through which awareness views reality in the space-time world. This
overwhelming sense of unity does not annihilate one's ability to
relate to others, nor to fulfill one's responsibilities. Quite
obviously, it provides a qualitatively different context in which
individual life is exercised. Individual life is real, and this is
seen clearly. It is not separate from other lives, however, nor from
the awareness which "sees" through all reality.
Several other positive characteristics of this state deserve mention,
here:
This last characteristic is
a highly distinctive one. It is what I noticed when I first saw the
droplets of water in the shower. By immediacy of attention, I mean
that whatever comes into the field of attention is present without
triggering a mental reaction of any kind. There is no movement of the
mind to relate the perception to a previous one, nor to a particular
intention we may be working out of. What is seen (or heard or
touched) is present to one without distortion, as though reflecting
off of a spotless mirror within one's being. In this state, it is
possible to know an object "as it is," rather than for any kind of
meaning imposed on it by the mind. There is a natural delight in
encountering anything in this manner. Even the simplest of things--a
leaf, or blade of grass--can be a source of deep mystery and
wonder.
Conditions
for Realizing the State
In one sense, there are no
conditions for realizing this state, for it is always there and only
needs to be noticed. It is, in reality, the simple fact of awareness.
After one learns to become attuned to this, one can tune into it at
any time, although the depth and clarity will vary depending on a
number of circumstances. This does not change the fact that, as the
Zen people say, this state is naught but the ordinary, everyday mind.
By mind, here, I am sure they do not mean the reflecting, analyzing
intellect. They mean mind in the larger sense, as our native
intelligence, prior to its conditioning by society. We all possess
this "natural mind," or general awareness state. We just need to
learn how to get in touch with it.
The primary obstacle to experiencing this state is the noisy mind.
Even so, once one learns about this state, and how to tune in, even
the noisy mind is no obstacle (but it does diminish the clarity).
When the mind is noisy with fragmented thoughts, desires, emotions
and memories, attention is also fragmented and dissipated. The
natural, compensatory nature of the psyche is to correct this
disharmony, and so psychic energy is recruited in the interest of
reconciling conflicts within. There is little inclination to notice
the background awareness, for the natural focus is toward specific
kinds of issues, some of which carry great personal import. Most of
life can be spent attending to these narrow issues, with the
consequence that one never "wakes up" to the larger reality out of
which the psyche itself emerges.
The mind must be calmed, and the self-seeking tendencies of the will
must be diminished. There are many, many ways to do this, of course,
and Christian spirituality has much to contribute unto these ends (as
do all the world religions, of course). So long as one wants anything
with sufficient intensity to generate anxiety about not getting it,
this constriction of consciousness will detract from opening to
cosmic awareness. Self-seeking must go, and the mind must be content
with the limited knowledge it has about reality.
Learning to tune into the background awareness is the next step, and
it is here that some very specific disciplines can be helpful. The
simplest and most effective way for me is to let go of all ideas
concerning "who I am," and to look out of my eyes as though they are
windows into space-time reality. I then simply note that a being is
peering out of these eyes, and I rest in this awareness of the fact
"that I am." Sometimes, I will also note that the observer is greater
than the body, and I experience that this is so--that my body is part
of my being, and that my being goes out beyond my body. The mind can
suggest these simple disciplines, but what happens after that is not
in any way created by the mind. Before the simple awareness "that I
am" a being whose boundaries are virtually limitless, the mind is
struck dumb, for it has no sensory perceptions upon which to operate.
Its conceptual understanding of God and soul is such that it does not
shut down the experience by generating anxiety or confusion, but I
wish to make it clear that the awareness state is not like other
roles or identities created by the mind to accomplish a certain task.
It is, instead, an experience of being-here-now: nothing more,
nothing less.
Certain meditation practices can also help to awaken one to this
state. I am convinced that contemplative prayer makes this state more
easily accessible, although the awareness of God as loving Subject is
infinitely more attractive than cosmic awareness. Nevertheless,
contemplative prayer opens the will and calms the mind. When the
experience fades, it ought to be possible to shift the attention more
easily into the cosmic state.
Other prayer and meditative practices that I use is, with eyes closed
in a quiet place, to simply be present to God in the moment,
consciously surrendering to God all thoughts and desires that make
any claim on my attention. This is similar to Buddhist vipassana
meditation, only it is done in a relational context. By letting go of
everything with the intent to be present to God more deeply, the mind
and will are calmed. If the grace of mystical contemplation is given,
I enjoy it. If not, I rest in the deep silence of cosmic awareness
with eyes closed. There is boundless tranquility, and sometimes I see
brilliant blue and purple lights, which energize the mind and
heart.
At one point in my journey, I made a Zen retreat. That was before I
knew of this state, and Zen meditation (zazen) did not help to awaken
it in my case. I do not see how zazen has any connection with this
state, other than helping to calm the mind and will. Indeed, if one
takes up Zen or any other practice with the idea that the practice
can awaken this state, this very intent will frustrate it. There is
nowhere to go and nothing to do to create this state. As long as one
is engaging in a practice in the hope of somehow producing or
realizing this state, it will not work.
Until one has experienced cosmic awareness a few times, however, I am
not sure one can tune into it. It is so utterly simple and obvious
that it goes unnoticed. If it does not make itself known somehow,
then I do not know how one can learn to live in it. It must emerge as
something of a grace, and then one can learn to see it for what it
is. The confirmation of it by another who knows it can also be
helpful. This I received from a friend and from the literature on
Zen, particularly the Zen master Bankei.
It was while presenting a retreat in Amarillo, Texas, and visiting
with Bob Curry, the director of the DeFalco Center there, that I
became acquainted with The Unborn , a book of sermons
attributed to Zen master Bankei (1622-1693). I had been having these
spontaneous experiences of cosmic awareness, as I have described
above, and I shared this with Bob. He was well versed in Zen
literature, owing primarily to his relationship with Fr. Patrick
Hawk, a Catholic priest and Zen master who resides at the DeFalco
Center. "That's it!" Bob exclaimed, when I told him of my
experiences. "That's enlightenment!" He then gave me Bankei's book,
which confirmed Bob's words. Here is an example of Bankei's
teaching:
This was it, all right.
Even the term, "The Unborn," validated my sense that cosmic awareness
was uncreated insofar as it was not a fabrication of the mind. None
of this is to suggest that my experience was formally validated by a
Zen master (I never got to discuss this with Fr. Hawk, who was also
leading a retreat at the time). What I was left with was a conviction
that others had known experiences similar to my own, and that it was
recognized to be liberating and valuable.
In terms of conditions for realizing the experience, one can see that
Bankei emphasizes "that place of nonoccurrence," or the inner freedom
which is awakened when self-seeking is relinquished. This is the most
critical of all conditions, as I have already stated. It is also the
most difficult condition to attain.
Christianity
and Enlightenment
But what to make of all this from a Christian context. After all, I
was not (and still am not) a practicing Buddhist. Even though I had
read about the beliefs and practices of other religions for years,
and had made a retreat on Zen, my coming to this experience was in
the context of Christian spirituality. I had heard of enlightenment,
and had an inclination of what is was--thanks in large part to the
writings of Thomas Merton. But I had never expected to experience it,
and had certainly not set the realization of it as the goal of my
Christian life. It appeared spontaneously, and whenever it did so, I
endeavored to learn what I could about from whence it came, and how
it went. That I could eventually tune into it at will distinguished
it from mystical contemplation, whose comings and goings I could not
control, even though I desired it greatly. It was, to me, an
experience of the "natural" order. But what kind of experience was
it? A good one, for sure: there was no doubting that! Yet finding
confirmation of this experience in the Christian literature has not
been easy. The overwhelming concern seems to be with mystical
contemplation.
I will not pretend to have a completely satisfactory philosophical or
theological explanation of this experience. To say that it is
natural, for example, does not in any way imply that it is not also
an experience of God. The identity of the "observer" is a great
mystery. It is clearly not the intentional Ego, and yet it is very
familiar. That it leaves no impression in the personal, affective
memory also makes me suspect a transpersonal origin; so does the
experience of the observer looking out from all of creation. It is
difficult to attribute this to any kind of individual self, and so
increasingly, I tend to think of it as Christ, who has bound himself
to me through his incarnation, death, resurrection and ascension so
that my life and all of creation now unfolds in him .
The absence of fear and the benevolence toward all is also testimony
to the presence of the Love which knows no anxiety and wishes the
best for all. Between Christ and my deepest self, from which my
individuality springs, there is no separation. So it seems, at
least.
And yet, as I have related, mystical contemplation is a different
encounter with Christ. In contemplative experiences, I sense that
Christ is sharing with me his own inner, Spirit bond with the Father.
In mystical contemplation, one is brought into the inner life of
God--a life which is present to the deep Self, but which the Self
cannot penetrate. Even in the state of cosmic awareness, where other
people are seen in clarity and freshness, the inner life of another
remains an inaccessible mystery. I might see the other clearly and
know my spiritual connection with him or her, but the other must
reveal his/her inner life to me for me to know it. Cosmic awareness
cannot penetrate into the inner life of another person, much less
God. Mystical contemplation is such an experience of God, and so it
it a supernatural grace rather than a natural capacity.
In my view, there is no conflict between the two states. Even though
they are not the same kind of experience of God, they can co-exist in
a person, and even enrich one another. Mystical contemplation can
help to open one to cosmic awareness, and cosmic awareness can
provide the optimal conditions for opening to mystical graces. The
role of faith, here, is extremely important. Cosmic awareness does
not annihilate Christian faith in any way. When in this state, there
is a disinclination to seek God through words, symbols and rituals,
but faith preserves an openness to receive communication from God
(Who is not a concept). One is content to simply rest in God as the
Ground of one's being, but this does not imply a resistance to
mystical grace. If it should happen that the Ground wants to erupt,
or to communicate something of Itself, there is no boundary to
obstruct It. This openness to a mystical relationship with the Ground
is a contribution of Christian faith, and it is in no way diminished
by cosmic awareness. Faith transcends all states of consciousness,
and continues to be one's primary stance toward God even in the state
of cosmic awareness. For this reason, there is no reason whatsoever
for a person of Christian faith to denounce Eastern experiences of
enlightenment. Nor, as I have shared in this brief report, is it
really necessary to turn to the East to come to enlightenment. As the
Buddhists say, we are already enlightened! We just need to learn how
to wake up to this fact. That we can do so within the context of
Christianity is, perhaps, an affirmation not sufficiently appreciated
thus far.
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