Bullshit gets a bad rap.
In the world of spiritual endeavor, I think this is worth remembering.
Which student has not stood outside his or her spiritual center for the first time, metaphorical knees knocking, hopes high, seeking refuge and relief ... refuge and relief from the anger or anguish or uncertainty or whatever other form of difficulty that may mar and mangle an everyday life ... you know, the bullshit.
And stepping through the door, a sense of peace and serenity may descend and enfold the visitor. The temple or center may seem to open its arms to the longing and saddened heart.
Home at last! With the bullshit left outside the door ... ahhhhh!
But of course bullshit is wilier than any temple or text. There's no out-foxing this sharp-eyed customer. With practice comes the realization that the bullshit cannot be left outside the door. Can...not! The practices within this lovely home may point to ways in which to clarify or perhaps squelch bullshit's difficulties ... but really it's the same stuff all over again ... same stuff, different venue ... the cliques, the elitism, the show-off snickering.
OK ... practice is hard, hard, hard. And the mountain of bullshit may seem insurmountable as time and effort are expended.
But as a small footnote to what may be years and years of practice, doesn't it make some sense to acknowledge that spiritual centers and texts and temples and teachings all take their beckoning glow and empirical wonder from nothing so much as the bullshit that placed anyone outside a spiritual center's door for the very first time? No one ever joined in the spiritual adventure because they were just too damned happy, too damned certain, too damned loving.
When you think about it, doesn't bullshit deserve a a gold star at a minimum and possibly a halo? I think it does ... as a temporary matter.
Later it may be remembered with equal usefulness, "The hard stuff is easy. It's the easy stuff that's hard."
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