Throughout this life’s tenure, I have witnessed the goodwill intentions in all living species. Such intentions turn out, however, to be unbelievably short-lived, especially when confronted with the self-preservation that comprises the core element of most species’ existence. That said, outright hatred seems to be a trait specific to no species except humans.
As I have developed, I have come to recognise that the disparity between humans and other species, the leap from self-preservation to hatred, has myriad causal factors. I also am aware that neutralizing the ethereal cloud would enable the human bio-system to express and exercise balanced caring behaviour – goodwill, in other words. I also know, however, that it is unfortunately impossible to effect the neutralization necessary to make this happen.
Yet, people do want to escape the iron-ore prison cage of this planet; they do long for escape routes out of the straitened conditions and structures that poison their goodwill with hatred. Meditation is the means by which to achieve this goal. And Sikh meditation, in particular.
So, what’s the problem?
The problem is this: meditation is the proto-theorists’ unpolished sculpture; a figurine poem personified as a satirical memory of holier preservation, misunderstood by all except itself.
The point missed by all is this: mediation is a living entity. It is a life-form. It has its own boundaries, its own likes and dislikes. Let me give it a gender, and then it will make sense.
Meditation is female. She is demure, seldom raises her eyes, communicates subtly, suffers willingly, and never complains. Meditation is always accommodating, never demanding. She cannot be enjoyed through brute force; nor seduced by any means. She decides upon whom she will shower affection, if at all. But if you are not standing in line, along a path that she may pass, then you have zero chance of experiencing her.
Let’s face it, if meditation was yours to have as and when you choose, then you would all be the Buddhas and the Guru Nanakdevjis of this planet.
In what follows, I endeavour to explain the whys and wherefores of meditation; and in the process, I introduce you to the higher echelons of Sikh meditation. I do so through a combination of facts and analogy, having long realised that tangible explanations that people can readily relate to drive the point home better than any regurgitation of throw-away scriptural lines ever could.
The human species is divided into three groups. The topmost group comprises the sexually unmoved. The other two groups are the gays and the straights, the latter comprising the ‘straight darwinists’ and ‘straight deists’ (SaD).
SaD males know where Antarctica is, but none wants to go there. As in life, so in love-making: men have zero interest in acquainting themselves with or understanding the clitoris. They know it exists, but it does so as an abstract, an ephemeral thing even. As with the clitoris, so with meditation. And women, mimicking men, miss the point too; they also fall foul in their endeavours to even recognise where the essence of meditation hovers about them in order to establish contact, engage in communication, and eventually become its resident.
To enter meditation you need to experience death. In fact, you need to die. Death followed by cremation is the dissolution of all internal emotional, physical, and psychological connections. The psyche has to die, or if you prefer, be ‘liberated’. Individuality has to die, (or merge) into the greater individuality. ‘You’ must not exist. It is not enough not to fear non-existence. You must become non-existent.
At their apex, the Advanced Beings (now a distant memory) developed several methods to try and achieve self-understanding. When Guru Nanakdevji assumed the responsibility that others before him had failed to comprehend, many of these Advanced Beings took birth during his life period in order to try and move beyond their own attained statuses, into a more refined arena. To be part of his entourage they had to accept Guru Nanakdevji’s test of social integration coupled with social detachment.
The initial Sikhs were extremely advanced beings. They all belonged to one particular set or type of meditation: dangerous, frightening, and capable of leading to your demise. The first time practicing such meditation is very scary indeed. A group of Sikhs forced me in my younger days to show them this form of meditation and to put them through the process. When I reached the end stage of the first level, the idea facing them made some of them scream, while others were deeply frightened, and the rest visibly shaken. Never again have I allowed an unqualified group to experience the same.
Here I am going to introduce you to the lowest rung, the initial base, of the old Sikh meditation regime. It is not in fact different from most meditation techniques. Of course, I am not going to share how to recognise the meditation cloud about you. That would be irresponsible and dangerous. People allocate some of the most absurd attributes to meditation. You have no idea how fatal meditation can be. It is not peace, love and lentils, where hippies wear open-toed sandals and make love to their own long beards, and where women skip in the summer breeze in flowery full-length flowing skirts and cheesecloth blouses sans bras and their hair in braids. No. Meditation is a loaded gun. And one does not leave a loaded gun lying around.
The rungs of advancement in meditation are diet-based, thought-based, and emotion-based, in this order. Eventually one enters the humility and servile base. I have called it ‘rungs of advancement in meditation’ but none of this is meditation. It is preparation, the digging of the foundation. Meditation hasn’t even started yet. In fact, you are pre-programmed to fail if you attempt meditation since none of this preparatory work has been done, and which would itself take several decades to complete. So, although you can see the rainbow …that is all it is and will remain: a rainbow, a pathway, a map marked with a big ‘X’, but with no clue as to which spot on the planet the ‘X’ refers.
Now do you appreciate why meditation always fails?
People assume meditation is about finding peace or calmness: ‘I am balancing myself’, or ‘I have centered myself’, or best of all, ‘I enter the light’.
What ruddy light are you talking about? When I am in a mischievous mood, I ask people who say these things whether they have ever met a blind person and have ventured to ask them if they have seen the ‘light’. The question is, how would a blind person recognise light? This is one of the misnomers of my environment. A sure-fire way we differentiate between the wannabes and the rare genuine article. The light we refer to is not light per se. You either experience it or not. Those who experience it communicate with each other through the medium of light. So those at my level know who is connected to the light and who is not. But, hey, why undermine the wannabes? At least they are not enthusing each other to kill for the sake of self-importance just because the ‘other’ is different.