The Need for a Teacher

For years I read first-person accounts written by people who had found gurus, teachers, or mentors that helped them along their spiritual path.  I was so envious!  I prayed fervently for a guru, and read countless books by different teachers, both Eastern and Western, hoping to find "The One".

When I lived in Texas, I was able to meet a few gurus up close.  I attended services at a Hindu temple for a number of years where a guru was often in residence.  I instinctively knew, though, that the guru in question was not what he made himself out to be, and later circumstances proved I was right.  But despite my uncomfortableness around him, I envied the people who lived in that ashram and felt such a devotion to this man and the path he taught.  Why couldn't I just lay aside my qualms, and surrender?  I tried, bowing at his feet, but felt nothing.

I gradually stopped going to the temple, and decided to learn how to meditate.  Here, of course, I needed teachers to tell me how to do it right, and help me in perfecting the technique.  There were no teachers around at that time, so I read every book on Buddhist meditation I could lay my hands on, and taught myself.  I still hoped that I would find a teacher who could help me make faster progress.  I went on a couple of retreats where there was a visiting teacher, and I took advantage of time spent with her to ask questions, and hope that somehow she would instinctively know what I needed.  Again, nothing.

Living back in my home state of Missouri, I knew that the chances of meeting a teacher here were remote, so I gradually gave up my desire for one.  Yet I still read the latest books on meditation, hoping that this teacher, or that book, would finally help me to have a breakthrough in my practice.  Four years ago, I came across such a book, titled "Unlearning Meditation" by Jason Siff.  His basic premise is that meditation is not the attempt to perfect a technique, but simply what happens when we intend to meditate.  We are to longer look upon thinking as a distraction that needs to be eliminated. (Jason has just released a new book, "Thoughts Are Not The Enemy" which goes into this in greater detail).

I began sitting with my thoughts, seeing where they'd lead.  Profound thoughts, angry thoughts, the making of grocery lists, whatever, it didn't matter--I just sat and learned to be patient.  Meditating in this way had a profound effect on my practice, and ultimately, on my belief system.  I was able to speak with Jason a few times over the phone and found his insights quite helpful.

But the way I practice now goes beyond what Jason teaches, and I do not think of him as my teacher.  He still considers himself in the Buddhist fold, I do not.  I have had hints of a realization in the past year that, though hard to put into words, has become increasingly clear.  This realization is that I can trust myself to find my own answers.  I spent so many fruitless years looking to others who I considered more "advanced" than I, not being able to trust in my "flawed" mind or selfish character.  I needed someone else to drag me out of the pit I'd dug for myself--left to my own devices, I thought, I would just wallow in the mire.

But spending many hours in silence with my own thoughts has granted me a self-knowledge that I've never had before.  Yes, I see clearly where I fall short of any ideal I might have of being a "good" person.  But I also am aware of the capacity to be honest with myself, and this makes all the difference.  I see anger, hedonism, desire, and hate, when they are present, but I know that I am free not to act on them, if I so choose.  I can laugh now at my imperfections, there is no need to hide from them, or to beg for someone else to help in eliminating these defects from my consciousness.

Perhaps there is a danger in following this solitary path, I don't know.  But it is the only way that makes sense to me now.