Enjoy this episode on what can we truly trust in a post-truth world ? As usual, I highly recommend listening to this episode for the music and a richer experience. If you’re like me and prefer using your Podcast player, use this RSS Feed below or search “Bardo Blues” in your Podcast App. Enjoy!
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For each of us, we somehow find ourselves in these bodies of being. We can’t take credit for it, but miraculously here we breathe. Here we eat and shit, and sing and scroll.
However this happens, one thing is clear. We each have to make choices on how to live this life.
This may seem so fucking obvious, I can hear my Boomer dad say “You think too much”. But if we don’t contemplate the forces and mechanics that guide your life — never mind see them in action — maybe some of us think too little. For even ”Do whatever makes you happy“ — is a modern invention that came from somewhere.
Now what fascinates me isn’t what we choose to do, but how we arrive at those choices.
Of course some will argue the role of systems and cultures tugging on us. The post-modernists and Ken Wilber’s of the world can unpack all of that better than me.
Even after we have swallowed the red pill — after we clearly see the constructed nature of cultural norms and power dynamics, of phenomenon and self, of all the incentives and systemic structures shaping and molding everything — after that — what guides you and me in this Bardo of Being?
What is alive for me — is not abstract philosophical rabbit holes . I feel the unease as I flirt with topics such as ethics, epistemology, ontology, existentialism and a bunch of other fancy words. No what excites me is in our juicy and direct experience —when we face those big choices that alter a life — what do we actually put our trust in?
Don’t just listen to me — look for yourself! What do you see?
Maybe a flash of a thought?
Maybe that gravitation tug of an impulse or pattern?
Or maybe that emotional energy needing to dance its’ dance?
This isn’t just self-centered masturbation, as our civilization is in its own bardo of being, it’s seems to be the fault line of the culture war.
In a post-truth world where truth and morality seem relative, where you have your opinions and feelings, and I have my justified opinions and feelings — it raises the question.
How do we know what to truly trust and what to live our lives by?
For this simple fool, this is my unfoldment of me worshiping Tetris to entrusting something beyond.
A CRY BABY IS BORN
For me, it’s comical to see where I have been and where I am. For most of my life my alter of truth was always my rational mind. My mind was a constant game of Tetris, thought after thought, fitting neatly together. Non stop, stacking and stacking. I was a proud meta-systemic thinker and logic was my best friend. Even when I explored the realm of spirituality, ”Pragmatic Dharma“ was my game. Sign me up for spirituality without all the bullshit. Living this way all made so much sense. I had it all figured out — so I thought.
And now?
Tears. Yes, nature’s salty sedative — tears — seem to be my truest guide. Which is quite ironic to say the least, since most of life I was an emotionally stunted man-child. As a Dharma Vagabond in Asia for 4 years — I remember something eating me up inside. Deep down — something yearned and burned to cry.
Yet with all my might, I simply could not cry. It was similar to the helplessness, and aching frustration of constipation, except I was an emotionally constipated soul.
I remember meeting a mentor for my constipation. It was random encounter in the dusty streets of mother India. I think we met in an Ashram. I don’t even remember his name or his story. I remember he had smile that melted ice and the most serene eyes. He was carmel colored and had a classic yogi beard with fresh white linen clothes. He held me with his eyes. He said, ”I know that feeling too. I longed to cry for over 10 years, but I never could. Until I found my Guru that is.”
It felt good to be seen. But I still could not cry.
Yet the more I meditated, the more I surrendered to this path, the more I lived in a community where it was finally safe to be seen and heard, the more layers of being and knowing started to reveal themselves.
There were pools of squishy embodied feelings with textures and flavors.
There were swirling currents of energy that arose in that mysterious inter-connection between 10 beings sharing a room (Circling).
And the lively clarity of Awareness itself would shine.
More and more was welcomed into my awareness. Until finally, the damn burst. For me, a great love and the inevitable great grief — broke me. It cracked me open head to toe. Depending on your view, 6 months of debilitation or purification engulfed me.
But one thing is clear, the grace of grief purified this calcified heart. And from all that pain and despair, a tender truth of love and devotion could arise.
And as sacred as those tears were, they were often self-centered. They dripped of beauty and love — but they also stunk of my attachment and ignorance.
I am so grateful for the gift of grief. And hell, if you’re in the right circles these days, grief is so en vogue.
But sorry grief, I found a new lover. She’s an older partner. A bit saltier and sweeter. We have a history of sorts. When I taste her, I simply know her as “timeless tears”.
TIMELESS TEARS
What are timeless tears?
I don’t really know. But timeless tears do taste different. Not of sadness. Not of joy. Not of awe. They are transcendentally timeless.
Timeless tears connect all of us, to a grand web of compassion and graciousness. This is not logical. But it is palpably potent to the soul. Like a well aged wine, there is a richness to these tears. They are older than any me. Bigger than any Now. Older than any trauma.
Timeless tears erupted at the first time I heard the Dalai Lama’s daily prayer, a recitation from Shantideva’s Bodhisattva Way of Life (Dedication chapter - verse 55 ).
For as long as space remains, For as long as sentient beings remain, Until then may I too remain, To dispel the miseries of the world.
Timeless tears blessed me, when for the 1st time, I took Refuge and the Bodhisattva Vow with HE Garchen Rinpoche. A commitment Phoebe, committed to something across lifetimes. Eerily — it felt like I did this all before.
Timeless tears overwhelmed a couple weeks ago — when I finished a recent Drubchen (meditation) retreat. Wrapping up 9 days of practice, Garchen Rinpoche nonchalantly pointed to the simple truth, that we can never be separated from our vajra brothers and sisters. We have been in this together — for sooo long.
And for 20 minutes the dam of timeless tears burst.
It’s hard to describe it. These tears feel older than me. Older than this life. Bigger than any life. And interestingly enough — truer than any thought or feeling.
To truly trust timeless tears, in some sense is either the simplest thing — or as my former constipated self painfully felt — an impossible thing. And maybe this is just our karma playing out. But somehow, this Aquarius and former Business Consultant now bows to the truth and beauty that rains from timeless tears.
And because of their grace, I have some news to share.
While practicing alone in a tiny cabin in Vermont this winter, I was lost in a devotional chant where Jampa /Jamie/James/Alf — whatever the hell you might label this meat pocket — he was gone.
There was only a flow of timeless tears.
In that moment — it was clear to me about something that I needed to do — otherwise it would haunt me.
And thus this June, I applied for an open-ended solitary retreat in Crestone, Colorado at the Center for Contemplative Research. It will likely be 18-24 months minimum. Maybe longer. Maybe not. Numbers are numbers.
Somehow, someway, it all happened so quickly from there. Luckily and humbly I will enter into that retreat on Nov 1, 2024.
And this, this was a poem I wrote for the application essay.
Timeless Tears
So sublime, How divine mist shines, Pure lands born In every breath And every step, Yet the silence pops, Roosters roar, Robins and wrens - begin to sing, Snoozing craves, While presence laughs, And the wheel turns, And the wheel humbly turns, Yet somehow, Somewhere, Buried in the tomb of this tender heart, Forgotten but not, She can not, She will not, Ever forget, A promise beyond space, Beyond time, A promise To all mother beings, Some dreams Are prisons, Some dreams Are vows, Chiseled into bedrock, And painted with timeless tears, Dusty and hidden at times- She shines and guides, Across lifetimes and minds, Gifting tears of truth Older than any me, I bow.
So many of us want joy and peace. We want comfort and safety. We want sanity in a chaotic world.
And I want that for all of us too.
But what I also really long for, is for the world to cry a river of timeless tears. May we open to greater truths. May we listen from deeper parts. In this bardo of being — may we all sing and cry our own song — not for us — but for timeless tears we sing.
Music Credits for the Show
Thanks to these incredible artists:
TheFealdoProject Music by Peter Barbaix from Pixabay
Angels Fly - Sergii Pavkin from Pixabay
Sad Music by Samuel F. Johanns from Pixabay
* The Dalai Lama apparently recites this prayer every day, which is an extract from the Bodhisattvacaryāvatāra - A Guide to the Bodhisattva's Way of Life by Shantideva, Dedication Chapter, Verse 55.
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