Letting go. No, really letting go.
Image: Freddy Kearney| UnsplashRobert Forman writes on the art of letting go, the 'goal' of enlightenment, and on finding our way through the fantasy of life to who we really are.by Robert Forman
"Everything that drives us, I’m coming to think, every goal that we cherish in our hearts, be they society-wide, family-wide or heart-wide, turns out to be, like enlightenment itself, not even close to what they were cracked up to be."The beginning of the endI want to share with you something I’m actually going through these days. I don’t have answers, but I’m discovering something, and it’s important I think.

Several years ago I wrote Enlightenment Ain’t What It’s Cracked Up To Be. I did a good deal of promotion for it last year: wrote articles; gave lots of radio interviews; went on book tours to Europe, the Midwestern US, Seattle and Portland, and California. Sold some copies. Gave talks to between about 10 and 75. Folks laughed at my jokes and clapped enthusiastically. All in all, a pretty fun and productive time.

My last talk was in Olympia, WA. It was supposed to be an hour’s drive from Seattle, but it actually took three. I arrived just in time. There were three people there. One was mute, speaking in a rudimentary kind of sign language, and homeless. The other two, also homeless, were either schizophrenic or psychotic. I’m not sure which.

I gave my talk. After all, they had come. Though not well plugged in, all three were interesting in their way. No book sales.

That evening, with the long drive and the strangeness of the audience, felt like the end of something. To write the book I had gone on a month-long retreat and spent two years editing. I had done everything I could to make the book excellent, the cover just so. Promotion took another year or two. I gave lots of talks and radio interviews. Those trips. And the sales did okay. I am very proud of that book and of what I did to promote it. Financially, I was in the black on my book tours, which is amazing I hear. But that evening, with my audience of three psychotics, was the end.
What is enlightenment, anyhow?The theme of the book was that those of us on the spiritual path have, as part of what drives us, a vision of possibilities, a goal. For me, on my Eastern path, the hope of ‘enlightenment’ helped keep me going. For other religions, it’s probably living as ‘the good disciple’, or ‘heaven on earth’. For our less religious brethren something like ‘the good life’ or ‘building a reputation’ or creating ‘the healthy family’ or accomplishing some important project keeps us going. Others might want to be the ‘right kind of person’, the ‘obedient soldier’, the ‘good wife’ or just ‘the good person’, however one thinks of that.

But the goal of enlightenment to which I had clung was, I said in the book, part real and part fantasy. There is something called enlightenment. It is important and useful in its way. But it’s not the perfect life, the trouble-free existence, the neon-light experience that it had been in my fantasy. Useful, yes. The perfect life, no. Enlightenment ain’t, as the book title said, what it’s cracked up to be.
The fantasy of fameAs I drove back to Seattle, reflecting on that three-hour drive and my three homeless guests, I found myself thinking that what had driven me to market the book with such gusto for the previous year was another kind of fantasy, a different dream. It was parallel to but different from my earlier fantasy of enlightenment. This one was an (unconscious) fantasy of fame, perhaps, of getting onto Oprah. Or it was a dream of making tons of money or simply of being ‘successful’. And I would never get any of these.

Or not the fantasy version. Funnily enough, I thought, I had achieved a modicum of each. In one colleague’s wonderful phrase, I had gained a ‘mezzanine level’ of fame. I’m not a celebrity (top floor); haven’t been in People Magazine. But there are probably some 10,000 people whose name I have never heard who know my name and something of my work. I have enough saved up to not have to worry about money. Even 25 years after being published, my academic writings are still referred to. And as a professor, I’ve affected a few students’ lives. Some of my students have even become professors in my field. And my teaching continues to go well. I have tenure, money, reputation, and more.
The life we getSo I’ve realised, more or less, a lot of these ‘dreams’. But not one of them turned out to be anything like what I had, in my dream, cracked them up to be. Being well known on some college campus is somewhat flattering, but not much more. The loneliness I thought it would cure remains untouched. The wealth leaves me feel more secure, but I still worry. The effect on others’ lives is gratifying, but it’s pretty minor, at best. Each of these largely unconscious goals had been a kind of fantasy: a better (more famous, richer, sexier) life with fame or money or…

But what I got, really, was just a life. This particular life, this particular house and marriage and children and pet. It was shaped by my aspirations and goals, but this life is what I got.
Calling or fantasy?A vision—bringing open-minded spirituality to society—also drove me. I had taken up the practice of meditation, had some interesting and valuable experiences and then some permanent shifts, and I was driven to make sense of them and give voice to that inner and spiritual side of life in a society that devalues it. I was called, really, to bring some of this side of life into to my world. I like to believe the world is a better place because of my effort; spirituality more well accepted. And I have said something that no one else did. I was, in short, called by a vision, and this calling too has shaped my days.

But being called, too, seems at this point like another kind of fantasy. It seemed so important when I was 30; perhaps it was. And yet…society has and will move on. It won’t be long before the whole concern with mysticism and spirituality will seem a quaint preoccupation—either because it’s become a normal part of society (like civil rights) or because society has dropped it entirely (like phlogiston). So what called me, the vision that rumbled through my heart and days, will come to seem, well, not as big a deal as it once seemed.

Everything that drives us, I’m coming to think, every goal that we cherish in our hearts, be they society-wide, family-wide or heart-wide, turns out to be, like enlightenment itself, not even close to what they were cracked up to be. Those goals that motivate our lives—fame, money, adoration, influencing others, the happy family—all of these seem to be useful in their way yet mostly interesting images and fantasies. And not quite like the movie in the back of our heads.
Noticing the driversWe live in, work towards and hang onto our dreams. And the dreams themselves turn out to be, well, dreams.

But once you’ve gotten the joke, when you’ve seen the obsession that you yourself have lived within, then what?

I’m not sure if this will be a final answer, but what I’ve been doing ever since that drive back from Olympia has been to take my goals on as a meditation. Every time I find myself thinking that I should do this or that, that I should market my book or should write something brilliant or should do something for the family, I’ve been trying to simply take notice. I can act on it or not, but I’m just noticing the impulse.

It didn’t take long to realise how much this drive to be more than I am was a subtle kind of life-long obsession. It’s a script, and I’ve been incredibly loyal to it. And in the face of my noticing my obsessive thoughts, my drive to be something other than what I am, my ambition if you will, has been quietly melting away.
Choosing new rulesWithout the anxiety of ambition, I’ve been surprised how non-depressed I’ve felt. My mood is still decent, and I still do lots of things: go to the gym, meditate, enjoy the guitar, baby-sit my grandson, make love with my wife. I’m just not out there cooking up important work for myself, advertising talks at bookstores, writing things I ‘should’. Without having to change the world, I think I’m actually happier.

But just being like this feels like I’m breaking some kind of rule. There was some kind of unspoken law in my family and my society: ‘thou shalt be ambitious’; ‘thou shalt take care of others …’; and ‘thou shalt never notice this rule’.

This is not to say I’m doing nothing good in the world. When I am invited to speak some place or write an article, like this one, I’ll do it if it seems right or interesting. When my son broke his arm recently, I was only too happy to help. But I’m not out looking for people to save, causes to champion.
Dropping the illusionsWithout anxiety, without ambition, I don’t know exactly why I do what I do now. Maybe I’ll have a better answer in a few years. But for now I seem to be enjoying just being, doing just what I am naturally inclined to do. I just want to play the guitar, alone or with a few others, ride my motorcycle, play with my grandson.

I want to say I’m living more naturally out of my own soul, as if my soul itself guides my days. It’s as if I am being more naturally who and what I am. But that too starts to sound like a goal, and that’s not it at all.

Yet I can say this feels somehow like another level of spiritual discovery. In dropping the illusions that once comprised my life, I’m living more as simply what I am. I like it.
first published 27th February, 2013
 – first published 1st January, 2014
About the author:
Robert Forman is author of Enlightenment Ain’t What It’s Cracked Up To Be, a professor of comparative religions, and most enjoys being a spiritual counsellor.
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