Enlightenment in the City

 Years ago, when I first began pondering the possibility of enlightenment, I pledged myself that, if there were such a state, I would find it in the city. The biblical notion of hearing God's voice in the desert seemed too easy for me way back then, as did the idea that one needed to seclude oneself in a cave high up in the Himalayas, His voice better to hear. “Any prophet or messiah could do that;” I told myself, but how many stories told of an awakened master who had gained enlightenment in the city midst the loud noises and sensual temptations it had to offer?

This then was my wish.

Well, that was eons ago, and enlightenment is still at bay. I am now ready to renounce my pledge and go wherever necessary to see the Light.

And the gods answered, “Enlightenment is dependent on time or place. It is a state of mind, a recognition of that which always is. It is not something you can become as you already are it.”

Which is to say, I am stuck in the city and the search continues as ever.

This is good because I really can’t afford to travel to the desert or the high peaks of the Himalayas.

 

Conversion Therapy?

 

Imagine, if you will, that you were born gay. (Which I was!) There was never a doubt in your mind as to your sexuality whether you ever had sex or not. In times of poverty or stress, you knew you were gay. Old or young, you knew. Alone or in a crowd, there was no doubt in your mind.

Stretch your imagination a bit further and pretend someone hooked you on conversion therapy. (I know it’s a ridiculous notion, but this is all just make-believe.)

If you made it this far, assume you passed the course with flying colors.

But suddenly a naked man appears on the horizon and you feel a tingle down in the vicinity of your scrotum. You are turned on and, at the same time, pissed off because you actually believed you’d been converted.

You close your eyes, ignore the response, and affirm your newfound heterosexuality.

Until the next naked man appears.

And then there is a crowd of naked men, all young, well hung, and smiling in your direction.

With gargantuan effort, it is very difficult to convince yourself you are heterosexual.  

And, so it goes with me and my spirituality. The ego has had me in its clutches since the day I was born. Spirituality came along and convinced me I am not a body, I am free for I am as God created me.

I’ve absolved numerous courses to convince me that this is so, but every time a naked man appears on the horizon, doubt rears its ugly head and I am left wondering: who am I really?

When my thoughts disperse and I find myself fully in the now moment, I am convinced that I am (straight?)

With the advent of thought, or the temptation to punch someone in the nose, I fall back into the hold of the ego.

When is the conversion therapy going to kick in long enough that I am convinced I am straight? My butt is getting sore from all the meditations.