Homeward Bound…

It has been a very long time since I believed in the pass/fail religious notions of my hell fire and brimstone Baptist upbringing whereon the Day of Judgment, the Book of Life would be opened, and I would discover my everlasting fate.

I am now of the opinion that destiny is a self creation, that hell and heaven are here on earth and that the only judging being done by anyone, is the limited and self created personality that walks around on my legs as if it were who I am.

But if there were a judgment day, and if I were to be charged with presenting evidence for my pass/fail examination, I would have one small accomplishment and seven precious moments, to add to the pass side of the equation…not much for 55 years worth of living.

Not much…and yet… Everything.

My small accomplishment would be the day that my mother trusted me enough to tell me the truth of her childhood, a moment that stands in my memory with the same clarity and recall that one associates with moments extreme in nature, like the day we all watched a plane fly into a building, or John-John salute his flag- draped-father’s-coffin. That day, of my mother’s truth telling, will travel with me for as long as memory lasts.

The seven precious moments, I would place on the scale weighing my life’s outcome have mostly happened within the last year - one of them last night - after a cleansing talk with my good friend and fellow Sojourner, Tom. I thought perhaps you might have some interest in learning of them…since, as they do, hold the fate of my destiny by their weight and value. These precious moments are my contribution to the development, evolution, and destiny of the family of Man, of which I, like you – am a contributing member.

To fully describe them, we must begin with the wherefore and whatnot of my development as a personal self. From the moment that I could speak, from the moment that my left-brain language center “came online” as Jill Bolte-Taylor describes it, my personality developed itself around a single note of self-hatred. I cannot remember a time, going deep into the reaches of my childhood, that I did not virulently hate myself. One assumes there must have been such a time, either that, or I came in with a Karmic debt of undeniably large proportions…but it cannot be brought into recall.

This self-hatred led to a very lonely and isolating childhood. I felt like I was encased in a clear box that only I knew was present, a container that made it impossible to reach beyond the confines of it’s control to find solace and succor in the company of others.

Alone.

It was to become the hallmark of my life. But now, in my fifth decade, that aloneness has turned into these seven precious moments that make my breathing on this planet not only valuable… but also necessary. A good distance traveled, wouldn’t you agree?

Except for a brief period in my twenties when I learned how to charm others into befriending me, and another equally brief period in my forties when I learned to charm large groups of audiences into falling in love with my ability to tell stories…I have lived and worked essentially alone.

I have come to see that my seven precious moments would not have come to me, were it not for this very unusual level of aloneness. Make no mistake I have had, and continue to have, extraordinary fellow travelers… mostly in the form of Spiritual Teachers and Supporters whose fellowship is equally responsible for my small cache of Seven. They too, hold as much honor and as much responsibility, for my small gift as I do. I wonder, would you allow me a tiny and selfish moment to name them? A public acknowledgment of a debt so large it will never be repaid. They are: Rev. Joyce who helped me to begin the long journey home, Rosa Glen who helped me win the battle over the desire to end my life, Byron Katie who placed in my hands a tool of incalculable value, Eckhart Tolle whose books convinced me beyond doubt, Tom Owens who stands shoulder to shoulder with me even to this day, and of course…my beloved and wise beyond words, Spiritual Teacher George Addair. Seven of us, (if you include me and I do), and seven precious moments…it has a kind of poetry wouldn’t you agree?

Long before I heard of Jill Bolte-Taylor and her astounding book, “My Stroke of Insight”, or saw her most amazing talk on the TED conference series, (please do get her book, or watch her lecture at www.TED.com and enter her name in the search field), I learned of the left brain/right brain split from my astoundingly capable Teacher George Addair.

He and Jill, both teach that the left brain is the seat of language and the self creation we human beings always mistake for the “who” of who we are, George came to the understanding thru Spiritual intuitiveness and personal experience. Jill, a Harvard trained brain scientist, came to it thru the impact of a life-threatening stroke to her left hemisphere. She describes in her talk, the moment at which her “left brain went offline”…and of finding herself wholly incapable of speech and bathed in the peace, beauty, wonder, and awe of her right hemisphere. George describes the right hemisphere as the seat of the divine in us, the connection to and interface with, the Impersonal Oneself Mind. Jill says, from her perspective as a Neuroanatomist, that we are “hard wired” for peace…if we can only overcome the dominant and dominating left brain, then we too, can partake of the wonder and awe of the Impersonal Self’s right to the “miracle of miracles”.

Here is where fifty-five years of aloneness gave way to seven precious moments.

The extreme nature of my long endurance of being alone with my thoughts, made it possible for me to eventually bend them to my will. First I became capable of stopping the flow of the desire for self destruction, then over time I became capable of slowing them down to the point that I could hear and recognize - each and every one of them - no matter how much outside distraction there was, then came the capacity to stop them entirely. Flowing out of the capacity to stop thinking came the soft assurance and presence of my right hemisphere. My “seven precious moments”…

To find your way into your “right” mind, nothing short of the sacrifice of the personal self is required. George, the Buddha, Christ, Eckhart Tolle and Jill all confirm that the hold the left, or “personal” self has on our hearts and minds must be either consciously dispensed with, or as in Jill’s case, be abruptly ended thru the drama and impact of disease. Jill speaks quite eloquently of her decision in her eight year convalescence to “reboot” her left brain, that it was a choice of great cost to her and was done in service to others, because bringing back “online” the left brain meant the interruption of a level of peace and tranquility that anyone would envy. Read her book and it will end any pity you might have had, for someone who has had a severe stroke. My father had a left hemisphere stroke and although the doctors said he could have returned to language, he chose not to do the necessary work, and thanks to Jill’s book, I now realize that my father had found a place to precious to leave behind.

These moments, in which I have been gifted with the cessation of thought, the experience of my “right” mind has been the revelation of a lifetime.

They have lasted only brief moments for me, two or three minutes each of complete internal silence wherein the lyricism of my right hemisphere and it’s connection to all that is…can be felt, texturally as well as poetically. A soft, welcoming, return home. A Love of such purity and ease, it bears no resemblance whatsoever to the romantic nonsense that passes for love in our modern day culture. A peace of such a profound nature, that it causes tears of gratitude to flow down my face and drop gently upon my breast. A “rightness” that speaks to a level of perfection only wistfully imagined, and hopefully wished for. A tenderness that travels well beyond, the realms of expression. A completeness that dissuades entirely the notion that anything that can be “done” or achieved, in the realm of the material, has any solidity or meaning whatsoever. A fluidity that causes the boundaries of the “self” to expand large enough to encompass all that has been, or ever will be… An in-habitation of my body that fills me with wonder and awe at the mere movement of air across my skin. The CERTAIN knowledge that I am not alone… that The Witness, The Observer, The Impersonal Oneself is as near as the right hemisphere of my own self’s brain.

If the left brain/egoic mind could be convinced of the wealth of the right mind, we would all leave behind the personal self like the fairy tales of our youth. After all, the left-brain’s so-called “personality”, is exactly the same construct as the imaginary beanstalk’s and witches of our childhoods. It’s only hold on us, is that it is a personal story that we constructed out of the hills and valleys of our childhood, and one that we have become convinced that we would not survive without.

I say… give up the imposter!! Throw the personal self right out the window; give up the make-believe, in favor of the wonder of reality. (This sentiment is of course, poetic license.) It is not possible to throw out the left-brain language based self, not that is, without the scalpel or the disease that Jill suffered from. To survive, the family of Man’s childhood, we will be required to transcend the linearly sequentially driven - competitive and comparing left mind. We humans are in our infancy, and the left brain, without which trains would jump their tracks, buildings would fail to stand in their footprints, and boats would sink in their harbors, is meant to be the handmaiden to the more egalitarian and utopian right brain. The right brain includes - the left brain excludes, the right brain is global - the left brain is tribal, the right brain takes events and experiences transpersonally, (above the personal) - the left brain takes EVERYTHING personally. It is not only possible to transcend the left brain... it is our only hope.

These small visits to the wealth and wonder of my “right” mind are not a “doing” sort of thing. We cannot stake our claim to the right mind; it comes as a gift of grace. We can encourage that gift by the emptying out of the self, and in no other way. It takes enormous courage, will, resolve, and perseverance to release oneself from the grip of the language driven, competitive, comparing, self-harming left mind. But once empty, the miracle takes place…the gift arrives even if it stays only for a moment or two, as is the case in my experience.

I know by the reports of other sojourners that it is possible to actually live in the right mind, and I have set my sail…trimmed my mainsail and hoisted up my anchor. I am bound for the shores of the Impersonal Self, I take as my mate the Great Presence of The Witness and I thank you Seven who have made my journey possible from the very depths of my Being. My very DNA is grateful to you… for your help, support, kindness, steadfastness, commitment, constancy, and en-courage-ment. Joyce, Rosa, Byron, Eckhart, Tom, and George…may you be blessed evermore, for all eternity, for the gifts you so freely gave….

Consider me Homeward Bound.

Adayre R. Miller

8/4/10