Scattering Salt, Burning Sage

Ceremonial Object, 2006

My friend, Joan Tollifson, quoted some words from Darryl Bailey on her page, a name I’d heard but not picked up on. One person commented that between hearing from me and Darryl, his search had come to an end. Two others said it was Joan Tollifson, Darryl, and me. So naturally, I had to check Darryl out.

Here’s part of a letter I sent to Joan about that:

I just read something by Darryl. Thanks for putting me on to him. He does belong in the same circle as you and me. His language differs from mine just as yours and mine differ, but the essence seems identical. I read this from him:

"If we sit quietly, making no effort, life expresses itself clearly; it simply happens on its own. There’s nothing else to get. The great truth is obvious. The heart beats; the breath comes and goes. Vibrations, pulsations, twinges, feelings, thoughts, and emotions rise and fall. Urges rise and pass; some become actions, others do not, and so life flows."

I would not use the phrase “the great truth, but as for the rest, that's what I call "this aliveness," and refuse to characterize it in any manner at all beyond its obvious ever-presence. You will never hear me criticizing a statement like that, nor criticizing its author for offering personalized paid counseling as Darryl does. It's the crew that speaks from on high that I criticize, and their hypnotic conditioning of people's minds with aspirations and attractive fantasies that may shout "now" or "this" but lead away from it like carrots leading donkeys.

I think my criticism of the spirituality industry, as much as some people dislike hearing it, is part of what I have to offer. It may even be part of what leads people to bracket the three of us. Perhaps I am just making explicit what you and Darryl say implicitly--Darryl, for example, when he declares: "Making no effort, life expresses itself clearly; it simply happens on its own. There’s nothing else to get."

I liked your voice as soon as I encountered it, Joan--the honesty and lack of pretension. Same experience with Darryl. Rock bottom without the carrot.

I got a letter a couple of days ago--very bright and earnest--from an admirer of Rupert, asking me what I could possibly dislike about the guy. Part of my reply was this:

I have something to express, but it will only be heard if one can listen nakedly without the weight of "spiritual" dogma, without the implication that "spirituality" is something special apart from ordinary life--something higher, something exalted, something worthy of future attainment.

So when I point out the self-appointed teachers who seem to be instructing from on high as if they have the keys to the kingdom, there is nothing personal in it. If I met Rupert, or Adyashanti we might hit it off just fine. They both have gentle-looking faces, which I like. That's not the point.

An erstwhile Native-American friend of mine with whom I've lost touch, Paul Dance Bow, and I happen to have been born at nearly the same hour on the very same day, June 10, 1945. I don't mention it for astrological reasons, but as a curiosity. Back in the day, we were discussing ceremonial dances. Paul was like me in having moved away from cultural indoctrination--his, Native-American, mine, Jewish-American. We both noticed their respective limitations. We were talking about scattering salt. This was not part of his Tewa tradition, which burns sage for this purpose, but we touched upon how, in preparation for a ritual, salt is used to rid a space of distracting energies.

In replying to your question about calling out what I see as the arrogance of metaphysical discourse in which beliefs are presented as facts and how that tends to hypnotize, I recalled that conversation with Paul.

The man you mention may be well-intentioned--that's not for me to judge--but I don't want his certainties and platitudes polluting the space in which I want to dance. So just see my comments about him and others of that ilk as scattering salt to cleanse the space. Nothing personal in it. I'm just burning sage. Then, with the space untainted, if you hear me, great. If not, that's OK too. None of that is up to either of us.

Video interviews with Robert Saltzman, author of

The Ten Thousand Things and Depending On No-Thing