Tantric Coconuts (10 page)

Ted straightened up, confident he would win the trip to Disneyland. “Sounds fun. Let’s play.”

“Close your eyes and imagine the stage. Visualize three garage-size doors ready to be peeled open by the attractive hostess, Vanna Digit.”

“Tall, dark, long black hair, right?”

Angel stared at her boots. “Probably, but with a slightly different wardrobe.” She continued, “Door number one is always left open. It’s the given. Look up at those mountains on the horizon, Ted, and take in everything that’s around you right now. Door number one is your life as it exists precisely at this moment—warts, hiccups, and all.”

“Thank you, Vanna.”

“Now close your eyes again and think about something that really pisses you off that your ex-wife did or said.”

“That’s a long list.”

“I’m sure it is, so just pick one thing. That scene is waiting to be played out behind door number two like a looped tape that never ends.”

Ted whined, “ ‘There is nothing to do in Crossing Trails!’ ”

“Sounds good. Now for door number three, think about something you want or desire.”

“With or without clothing?”

“Your option.”

Ted let a wicked little grin cross his face. “Okay, that one’s easy. I’ve got all three spaces populated in my mind, so now what?”

“This can be a bit of a cruel game. When the doors open
up, what you’ll see are just great big cardboard cutouts, pictures on the stage. Nothing real. So you have three choices: living this life behind door number one, imagining a soap opera called
Ted’s Pissed Off
behind door number two, and salivating over an image that is not real of something you wish existed, projected behind door number three.”

“Okay, you made your point. To win
Ted’s Deal
, I’ve got to park my head inside door number one. That’s the only space where things are real.”

“That’s right.” Angel allowed Ted to get comfortable with the concept and then continued, “The consciousness of the true self is present in the real and the now and is never present in some imagined reality. Mr. Digit, however, thrives behind doors two and three.”

“Angel, you’re making it sound like I have some choice in the way my mind works. I’m not sure I can rub the stripes off that tiger. How can I possibly make door number one my exclusive haunt?” Ted asked, shifting his weight, checking his watch, and wondering if it was about time for an early dinner and whether anyone would complain about where he’d parked the Chieftain.

“None of this is particularly easy to grasp by discussion alone. For now, let me say that allowing our minds to operate like a game show is not the way to lead a fulfilling life.”

Ted cringed. “So do you mean that I’m squandering my life?” After thinking a bit more about it, he asked, “Have I?”

“Everyone has an ego, so of course we spend way too much time behind doors two and three. Don’t judge yourself harshly.
Instead, just find a way to stay more present. Remember the first realization: most of the world is stuck in a dream world, playing out the drama of the mind but not really alive to reality and the potential magnificence of human life.”

“But not you?”

“Even me. Remember, Ted, awakening is a matter of degree. It’s a journey. I’m a project too, a work in progress.”

Ted held up his right middle finger. “Maybe Mr. Digit is right about one thing. One part of us is saying something rather rude to another part of us.”

Angel smiled. “Has anyone ever told you that you are clever?”

“Frequently, but I still don’t see how I can get rid of my personality. Even if I could, it seems like a drastic solution.”

“We can’t be rid of the entire ego-mind structure, and certainly not all at once. Our goal is not to chop the finger off the hand.”

“So we’re talking just a little ego tune-up?”

“A bit more than that, Ted. But that’s the third realization, and you’re not quite ready for that. Maybe tonight or tomorrow morning before you leave.”

“Leave?” Ted asked, more than slightly concerned.

“We’re going to get you to wake up. I can’t wait to meet the real Ted Day!”

“Is this version that bad?” Ted asked. “If so, maybe you should just give me the third realization now. Besides, I hate to wander around with two-thirds of an equation in my head. It gives me a migraine.”

“You’re doing fantastic, and you do seem to be getting it at the logical, left-brain level, but before you can go much further, you need to move beyond left-brain concepts and labels. We have an exercise or two to help you with that. Does this sound like it’s worth the effort?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure I can eat dinner on an unrealized stomach, and I’m starting to get really hungry.” He crossed his arms and did his best imitation of a swaying swami. “Meaning passes not through the stomach that growls.”

“I recognize that passage: I believe it came straight out of the Man Bible.” Angel reached into her bag and handed Ted an apple. “Eat this.”

Ted gladly accepted the fruit. “So what’s this exercise you have in mind for me?”

“You’ll see. Let’s walk back to Bertha. We can drive up to the trailhead before it gets dark.”

“The trailhead?” Ted asked.

“Patience …”

Ted sat on a cushion behind the driver’s seat, closed his eyes, and, without even trying to understand what Angel meant by not thinking, started the exercise. While Ted was scanning the universe of his mind for some signal that was not Ted talk, Angel drove the old bookmobile through the parking lot at what Ted considered an entirely reckless pace. He opened his eyes and yelled, “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?”

“Nope, we’re great.”

“Did you tell me why we’re going to this lake? If so, I missed it.”

“Just close your eyes, Ted, and sense into all that is not Ted. See if you can discover what is resting behind that chatter. Leave the rest to me.”

As Angel navigated the twenty-five-mile road leading to the trailhead in a remote corner of the Pecos Wilderness, she turned from time to time and gave Ted further instructions. Appreciating that approximately 95 percent of Ted’s waking mental activity was mindless chatter, she barraged him with little helpful hints. “Your mind will wander off; just gently
return to the task of staying present, observing. Watch your breath if it helps. In and out.”

Ted became irritated at his inability to focus and tried to find something or someone to blame. “You’re chattering as much as my mind. I got it. Door number one. Stay present.”

“Are you able to quiet the discursive mind?”

“Yes, somewhat,” Ted lied. He wished he was beside Angel in the passenger seat.

Over the hum of Bertha’s engine, Angel hollered, “You can’t do this wrong. Just allow your mind to relax, to take a vacation from its normal assessing of Ted’s needs, wants, fears, and cravings.”

Ted knew that Angel was trying to show him something she thought was important, so out of respect for her more than dedication to finding his own higher self, he tried to dig beneath his thoughts, but before he got far he realized that there was some sort of bolt on Bertha’s floor that was rather unfortunately positioned under his right butt cheek. He scooted a few inches closer to Angel. Glancing at her, Ted noticed how gorgeous she looked driving the old, armored beast up the narrow, winding road.

The forest air was pleasant enough, but Ted wondered again what was next on their journey and why they were going to this lake in the first place. His mind quickly wandered further off task.

It dawned on him that spiritual consultants should be licensed. Was Angel’s license in good standing? He should have researched her on Yelp or something. He tried to push
away his suspicion of her scamming him and to remain open to whatever was beyond his thoughts—which was a rather boring thing to do and, at the same time, irritatingly difficult. No sooner had this intention formed than another thought occurred to him. Where would he sleep tonight? How would he bathe privately? He wondered what Angel wore to bed. A few seductive images came to his mind.

Angel correctly assumed Ted’s mind had strayed far afield. “You’ll find it is very natural for your mind to wander back to Ted thinking. If it’s helpful, you can repeat a word, like ‘open,’ to keep your concentration focused.”

“Shouldn’t I be reciting something? The rosary or a mantra?” Ted asked, concerned that he was missing a vital piece of the instructions.

“No, don’t try to make this religious. We’re just watching and noticing our mind, seeing how it works or fails to work. That’s all for now.” After another few minutes Angel asked, “How did you experience this exercise?”

Ted opened his eyes and looked around. He was initially struck by the intense, deep green of the trees. They had gained considerable altitude. He stretched, smiled, and said, “Very frustrating. I’m no Buddha. My mind was absolutely unwilling to focus on what I asked it to do. But still, just for a flash, I found some brief moments of silence behind the chatter.”

“How would you describe it?” Angel asked.

“It was peaceful. Seemed nostalgic. The rest of the time, I’ve got to admit, it was difficult. Nearly impossible to shut down the internal dialogue.”

“Very good. Now go back to the first and second realizations and think about them in the context of what you just experienced.” Moving his cushion closer to her, Ted looked perplexed, so she elaborated. “What did you learn about your thoughts?”

“It seems that my mind has a mind of its own.”

With her hand resting on No Barks’s head, Angel turned around briefly in her seat, laughed, and said, “Excellent. You just experienced the first two realizations for yourself. We are not awake to a great deal of consciousness, and we are overly identified with our minds.”

“Actually, it’s a scary conclusion. If I’m not my mind, then what am I?”

“Those are great questions for you to think about, Ted.” Angel slowed Bertha, so that she was crawling up the mountain road at less than twenty miles an hour. “That’s enough for now. Just rest and enjoy the rest of the ride. Later I’ll try to explain the importance of what you just accomplished.”

Ted climbed into the passenger seat, fastened his seat belt, and decided to just enjoy the rest of the ride.

Angel parked Bertha at a small campground near the trailhead for Stewart Lake. After pushing the emergency brake to the floor, she turned off the ignition. She craned her neck to get a good look out the windshield. “Isn’t it beautiful? I’ll wait here. Tomorrow morning you and Argo are going on a field trip, another exercise to help you metabolize the realizations. Nature is a remarkable teacher—much wiser than me. You need to learn how to spend time with her.”

“Alone in the mountains?” Ted asked, not trying to hide his disapproval. Open spaces had always spooked him. Even as a kid he’d liked to build forts in his room. As an adult he preferred a roof over his head.

Angel ignored Ted’s apprehension. “You and Argo are going to hike to the top of that mountain. The higher self speaks from places of silence. You tried to find it in your mind and, like most of us, you failed. So now you’re going to get some help.” She pointed at a distant peak barely visible through the windshield and continued, “It’s just five or six miles that way.”

“You mean straight up?” Ted asked.

“At about eleven thousand five hundred feet you’ll find Stewart Lake, where you and Argo can spend the night, meditate, and get better connected to the silence where this truth I am describing resides.”

“Really? Please tell me there’s a nice little lodge up there.”

Angel shook her head.

“A Holiday Inn?”

“Sacred space is much better than a Holiday Inn. Up there you can listen and experience what is beyond your thinking mind. When you are ready, come back down the mountain and we’ll talk about your field trip. You’ll have a whole new outlook.”

Ted’s internal processors were humming and spinning, but nothing was registering except a rather panicked feeling of abandonment. If meditation was a strange, almost uncomfortable experience, then this was simply inconceivable. “What do you mean a field trip? Two days?”

“Don’t worry, Ted. You’ll do fine. I’ll put a pack together. The trailhead is just over there. I’ve done it twice before. It’s difficult. That’s the point. You’ll find that in some inexplicable way the experience changes you.”

Ted found this disturbing. “Argo and I have never backpacked before. What about food, water, and supplies?”

Angel smiled and put her finger across her lips. “Shhh. Ted, don’t worry. I have everything you need. You and Argo are going to have a good time. A great time. Trust me. It’s part of the waking-up process. We Lakota say that the best place to find the creator is in creation. Tonight we’ll talk some more
about the third realization. Tomorrow morning you walk in creation. It’s a great exercise in finding your true self, even better than meditation.”

“Better than meditation?” Ted asked with more than a hint of sarcasm. “Where is this Father Chuck you said I was going to meet?”

Angel again pressed her finger to her lips. “At Spirit Tech, things unfold at their own pace.”

“What if it rains?”

“Can you sense how, at just this moment, you’re responding entirely out of your fear-based ego? Try to let go of planning, worrying, controlling, and just relax—trust that on this journey what comes next is what is supposed to come next. Trust that you can allow someone or something in the universe besides yourself to be in control.”

“You?” Ted asked.