The Issue of Cosmic Consciousness


If no one rejoices
will the wildflower
bloom again.

In college and after, in the age of Vietnam, I had friends who were drafted. I fought against the policy of the draft. It was unequal. I fought against inequality in all its forms. One of my friends who was drafted wound up in the department which made dog tags, and he made me a set. Where religion was suppose to be he put reciprocitist.

But that is not a religion, I protested in the thank you note.

It should be, he wrote in return. And it is the one you are looking for.

I was at that time, and perhaps still am, a student of religions. And I personally worshiped knowledge. I saw the nine floors of the university library as my church. I browsed the dictionary as a form of recreation so I looked up reciprocity. In psychology it is the theory that in social situations we pay back what we receive from others. Religions translate that as do unto others what they do unto you. New-agers say pay it forward.

But an ex-Jesuit priest, noting my dog tag which I wore proudly to all anti-war and anti-draft events, translated reciprocitist as a believer in all things. He was the only person I ever knew who could do the Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle in a half hour so I chose to believe him. After all he left the order not because of a crisis of faith but because it was defined too narrowly.

Why choose? he asked during one of our prolonged discussions about my search for a religion. Why limit yourself to just a fraction of the elephant?

The ancient Buddhist parable of the blind men and the elephant was originally taught to me by my father, also a lapsed Catholic, so I immediately got his reference. And so began my belief in everything and nothing. On my best of days, on my mountain top, I even believe the elephant is limiting. I touch, if but briefly, the cosmic consciousness. And what comes after the passing of elation, the weight of responsibility. I must not add to this negative thought. Or is it passing to me this negativity.

 Time to garden. Or paint. Or celebrate the wildflowers in the field. Or just mindfully wash the dishes.


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