Living on Purpose. Dan Millman
can be broadening and stimulating. But in today’s global village, the East holds no monopoly on wisdom. My travels revealed that there’s no place like home—because universal truths reveal themselves everywhere in daily life.
I view parenthood as a sacred responsibility and supreme teaching. Raising your child will demand and develop more capacities than sitting in a cave meditating, or stretching and breathing at an ashram. (I know because I’ve done them all.) The spiritual secrets are available here, in our own country, state, town, home, and heart. You are likely to find that the journeys you take through childhood with your son are as enriching as any you might make by boat or plane.
There is one Light but many lamps. —Proverb
And as you open the doors of perception, you will find your teachers not only in human form, but in the world of nature, in children and strangers, and in unexpected circumstance. For example, retired physician A. J. Cronin moved to a small farming community in Scotland to write his first novel. For many months he filled tablets of handwritten text, finally sending it to a typist in London. When the typed manuscript was returned, he gave it a fresh read and was shocked at his mediocre writing. Disgusted with his work, he walked out into a drizzling rain, abandoned his manuscript, throwing it into an ash pile, and wandered into the heath. There he met an old farmer, digging a drainage ditch in a boggy field. The farmer inquired about Cronin’s writing, and learned of the manuscript’s fate. The farmer paused a few moments, then said, “My father dug drainage ditches in this bog all his days but never made a pasture. I’ve done the same and not succeeded yet. But pasture or not, I know what my father knew—that if you only dig long enough, a pasture can be made.” Cronin walked back to the house, picked the manuscript out of the ashes, and dried it out in the oven. Then he want back to work, rewriting until it satisfied him. His book, Hatter’s Castle, was the first in a string of successful novels—all because of a teacher he found in a bog.
Everything in this world has a hidden meaning. . . . People, animals, trees, stars are all hieroglyphics. . . . We think they are really only people, animals, trees, stars. It is only years later. . . that some of us understand. —Nikos Kazantzakis
Our children, worth far more than any manuscript, grow so quickly. And the world will still be waiting when your son is old enough to travel with you, or to follow his own path as you pursue yours. So ask yourself what you want to look back on in the years to come—that you left home to find yourself or that you put your child first for the few years he was given into your care? You will find no higher calling, greater blessing, finer teacher, or more spiritual journey than the process of raising your child.
Personal Applications
Many of us believe that when we graduate from high school, college, or graduate school, our education is finished. But our true schooling has only begun as we shift from word lessons to world lessons. Throughout our lives, we meet (but don’t always recognize) an array of teachers, if we have the eyes to see, and the ears to listen.
In the Buddhist tradition, practitioners remind themselves that the Buddha is everywhere, and in everyone; they treat all beings with respect. Similarly, many Christians see Jesus, or a divine spark of God, shining within all beings; the same is true for many religions. Remembering this, we can find wise teachers where we once found only the ordinary. And, we can find a Buddha, a Jesus, a source of infinite wisdom inside ourselves as well. We have only to ask, and listen, and trust.
List three or more people, situations, or experiences that have served as teachers for you.
Next to each one, jot down in a few words what you learned.
We acquire deeper wisdom through world lessons than we do through word lessons. Word lessons teach through concepts; World lessons teach through experience. Concepts may provide a map; Experience involves the journey. No experience is ever wasted because every experience contains a lesson. The lessons of experience are always positive, even if the experience is not.
Q: Your views on meditation are somewhat unorthodox—some might say irreverent. Could you explain those views and how you came to them?
A: Sitting meditation, as practiced in numerous venerable traditions, has benefits on many levels. I have practiced meditation during periods of my life, and honor this tradition. Such practice may enhance wellness and creativity, as well as provide insight into the nature of mind. But life isn’t lived in a sitting position—we still have to stand up and get on with the practice of everyday life.
Anybody who has survived their childhood has enough information about life to last them the rest of their days. —Flannery O’Connor
My seeming irreverence toward meditation serves to balance impressionable seekers’ adulation of the practice as the One Way to Enlightenment. I do not regard meditation as a path to enlightenment, but as the practice of enlightenment. By sitting calmly, balanced, centered, and erect—not leaning forward into the future or backward into the past—we maintain an enlightened disposition, assuming the perspective of pure awareness, observing all that arises from a place of divine detachment.
Still, the lives of meditators are likely to demonstrate the same kinds of difficulties encountered by non-meditators—relationship troubles, financial stresses, and other challenges. So meditation is not a panacea. Once we open our eyes, the direct experience of life awaits us. The true measure of any practice is the daily life of the practitioner. So eventually, meditation must become an every-moment practice—not just something we do while sitting. I now practice open-eyed meditation, insight into each moment, seeing each experience as it is, rather than what I think it should be. By paying attention to breath, relaxation, and movement, we put meditation practice into its proper context and perspective; we treat it not as an occasional visitor, but as a family member—not set apart, but as part of the whole. Such a meditative approach brings the light of awareness to each moment and every experience.
Experience, which destroys innocence, also leads one back to it. —James Baldwin
Believe one who has tried it. —Virgil
Q: Suppose you were twenty-five years old and had not yet done any in-depth personal growth work. Then you came upon books like those you have written. Do you think that these books, by themselves, would have provided sufficient insight to get you to where you are now? Won’t most people still find it necessary to wander on the chaotic path of teachers, practices, and communities?
A: There is a story of a young scholar from a privileged family who spends most of his time reading and studying the great teachings. One day, while traveling, he comes to a wide river and finds a boatman to take him across. During the crossing, to pass the time, the scholar describes his lifetime of studies. As he does, the boatman listens attentively. Then, after a time, he says to the young man, “You have learned much, sir—but have you learned how to swim?”
Skilled labor teaches something not found in books or colleges. —Harriet Robinson
“Why, no,” he replies. “I have not.”
“Then I’m afraid your knowledge is of little use,” says the boatman, “for this boat is sinking.”
Direct experience remains the most powerful teacher, but a book can provide a map of the territory, a preparation that enables us to learn more from our experience. A book can point