THE IMPOSSIBLE QUESTION (the Guru Diaries, part 4)

THE IMPOSSIBLE QUESTION

 

Sometimes a question comes floating from the back of the room in a fragile voice, as if the questioner had just quieted her sobbing long enough to speak and be heard. Everyone hushes, and there is a silence reverberating through the satsang as the question mark hangs in the air like a feather, until it slowly falls and the guru picks it up.

 

These are the questions he hates having to answer. He knows there is no true answer to any of the questions he is ever asked, but those few that have that tinge of sadness and echo in their delicate and desperate expression, so sincere it brings tears to his eyes, are almost painful. He knows there is an answer in his repertoire, he has thousands, rephrased every time so they always seem like he is spontaneously talking directly to each seeker. It is something he is known for, the intimacy, the love.

 

He would like to go backstage and cry, but the impulse quickly passes. The emotions that used to flood him no longer appear except as memories of a person no longer present, like an old song from which only a vague melody can be recalled. He could call her up to the stage, the audience loves that. Make her stand and weep openly or, more rarely, invite her to sit near him, in a chair a little lower than his so his place as the master, the teacher, the guru, is clear. But he knows what will happen.

 

He will ask her a few questions, her name and some part of the story she thinks is her life, so he is better able to personalize his words. He will tell her to look deeply within or feel without thinking or stop and be silent. Then he will give her a gaze that will melt her heart, and it is real, it is the love he sees when he looks at her. Then he will launch into a version of the usual short speech he has recited so often it feels like he is reading a television commercial, a talk about what always is, what she truly is; watching her reaction and gauging the crowd’s response, automatically without even noticing himself doing it, to see how far to go and when to stop. Sometimes he will pause and just look right into her eyes for a moment or two, nodding gently.

 

Then, invariably, when she believes she is looking or seeing or feeling what she imagines he wants her to see or feel or find, she will stop and gasp. She will burst into tears, smile, laugh, cry, and speak in a now strong voice, even through the tears, that yes, yes, she has found it, how simple it always was, how could she have not seen this before? He will let her affirm her awakening and maybe add a few words of encouragement and look teary-eyed at the hopeful faces and liquid eyes of the dream characters sitting before him in search of what was never there to be found.

 

Everyone will murmur in approval, some will cry, some will imagine they too have just found it by watching this play of longing and lostness and found-ness. He used to go over to the newly awakened seeker and give them a great big, long hug. But now he just gives them a sagacious smile and nods and lets them gradually work their way back into the audience. That seems best, especially since there was the one college student from California that they found him with when he was supposed to be in his silent meditation before that Satsang in Goa last year….

 

It does not matter, and it is not his choice, he knows, but he can’t seem to bring himself to call her up to the stage. He just tells her something that even to his ears sounds a little generic, and feels from the atmosphere in the room that he has not satisfied his audience. But he feels it is the kindest thing to do, and he moves quickly to a young man who has been waving his hand tentatively for the last hour whenever there was a pause.

 

As the earnest young man from Bradford rambles on about his lifetime quest (he can't be more than 25), the Guru invites him up, knowing he will be a good show. He is so full of himself the guru can say anything to him and he will be fine, feeling himself closer to his elusive goal and packed with more knowledge and awareness than he had when he arrived.

 

The Guru smiles a beatific smile the crowd thinks is in response to the young man's words, but he is thinking of the sumptuous vegetarian feast some of his volunteers have been cooking all morning. Soon the afternoon bell will signal the lunch break, and the guru feels happy at the thought of sharing sustenance in the simple silence in which he and everyone attending break bread as equals enfolded in the sheer wonderment and unfathomable mystery of being human. 💓