Asses Aware

The only book that's ever really made it's way to my soul and managed to stay there is Awareness by Anthony de Mello. The subtitle is "The Perils and Opportunities of Reality," which kind of just sounds like a stoner's stab at being deep. It's actually a Christian book, which you know right away because of the completely ridiculous picture of a perfect sunset on the front. I always tear these book covers off; they cloak any good message in cheese. I've never before been impressed by Christian books. Kind of for the same reasons I typically have a hard time with their culture -- the sickening imbalance of perfection. But this one is great. It presents good ideas and good philosophies as just that -- good ideas & philosophies. And then, as kind of an afterthought, he says, "Oh and by the way, this is how it ties in with Jesus." Which is great for a person like me.

You don't need to know anything and everything about my personal spiritual situation. That's not what this is about. But I thought you could use a little to credit the book in case you're a bit of a skeptic like me.

The following text is taken from one of my very favorite chapters in Awareness. I know it's long, but I think if you happen to be reading this because you actually know me, then you might at least get a kick out of it. I hope that in my lifetime, I can achieve the kind of reality that he talks about. Not only in this segment (because it's actually somewhat out-of-context), but what he talks about in the whole book.

Kudos to my sister, Em, for introducing me to Mr. de Mello.

There's nothing so delightful as being aware. Would you rather live in darkness? Would you rather act and not be aware of your actions, talk and not be aware of your words? Would you rather listen to people and not be aware of what you're hearing, or see things and not be aware of what you're looking at? The great Socrates said, "The unaware life is not worth living." That's a self-evident truth. Most people don't live aware lives. They live mechanical lives, mechanical thoughts -- generally somebody else's -- mechanical emotions, mechanical actions, mechanical reactions.

Do you want to see how mechanical you really are? "My, that's a lovely shirt you're wearing." You feel good hearing that. For a shirt, for heaven's sake! You feel proud of yourself when you hear that. People come over to my center in India and they say, "What a lovely place, these lovely trees" (for which I'm not responsible at all), "this lovely climate." And already I'm feeling good, until I catch myself feeling good, and I say, "Hey, can you imagine anything as stupid as that?" I'm not responsible for those trees; I wasn't responsible for choosing the location. I didn't order the weather; it just happened. But "me" got in there, so I'm feeling good. I'm feeling good about "my" culture and "my" nation. How stupid can you get? I mean that. I'm told my Indian culture has produced all these mystics. I didn't produce them. I'm not responsible for them. Or they tell me, "That country of yours and its poverty -- it's disgusting." I feel ashamed. But I didn't create it. What's going on? Did you ever stop to think? People tell you, "I think you're very charming," so I feel wonderful. I get a positive stroke (that's why they call it I'm O.K., you're O.K.) I'm going to write a book someday and the title will be I'm an Ass, You're an Ass. That's the most liberating, wonderful thing in the world, when you openly admit you're an ass. It's wonderful. When people tell me, "You're wrong." I say, "What can you expect of an ass?"

Disarmed, everybody has to be disarmed. In the final liberation, I'm an ass, you're an ass. Normally the way it goes, I press a button and you're up; I press another button and you're down. And you like that. How many people do you know who are unaffected by praise or blame? That isn't human, we say. Human means that you have to be a little monkey, so everybody can twist your tail, and you do whatever you ought to be doing. But is that human? If you find me charming, it means that right now you're in a good mood, nothing more.

It also means that I fit your shopping list. We all carry a shopping list around, and it's as though you've got to measure up to this list -- tall, um, dark, um, handsome, according to my tastes. "I like the sound of his voice." You say, "I'm in love." You're not in love, you silly ass. Any time you're in love -- I hesitate to say this -- you're being particularly asinine. Sit down and watch what's happening to you. You're running away from yourself. You want to escape. Somebody once said, "Thank God for reality, and for the means to escape from it." So that's what's going on.

We are so mechanical, so controlled. We write books about being controlled and how wonderful it is to be controlled and how necessary it is that people tell you you're OK. Then you'll have a good feeling about yourself. How wonderful it is to be in prison! Or as somebody said to me yesterday, to be in your cage. Do you like being in prison? Do you like being controlled? Let me tell you something: If you ever let yourself feel good when people tell you that you're O.K., you are preparing yourself to feel bad when they tell you you're not good. As long as you live to fulfill other people's expectations, you better watch what you wear, how you comb your hair, whether your shoes are polished -- in short, whether you live up to every damned expectation of theirs. Do you call that human?

http://www.demello.org/

While I do think that a lot of this guys ideas are magnificent and goal-worthy, I haven't quite achieved all of them. So, until then, and in direct reference to the above snippet, I will still be receiving & cherishing compliments, but trying not to let put-downs bother me. So line up & bring'em on!