The bell sounded three times to end the sit. I slowly opened my eyes. My body felt light as air – just moments ago, it had felt no different from air itself, its boundaries dissolving into the empty space of the room. My mind hummed with ease, clarity, and tranquility. Slowly, very slowly – as if this peace was a skittish kitten ready to dash at any moment – I stretched my legs and got up.
For the rest of the morning, I floated through my activities with a deep joy and felt connected to all things – the oak trees, the river, the joggers coming down my walking path. A smile was constantly on my face as I savored the feeling of exquisite, airy lightness.
Unbeknownst to me, deep in my subconscious, something was getting its fill of air too. A balloon. A humongous ego balloon, inflated by the belief that, well… that I was basically enlightened 🙂
When the opportunity to ask my teacher about it arose, I hesitated. Why share something so precious and risk embarrassment? The meditation experience was wrapped up with the story that I was special and different for having had it, and I was afraid to find out otherwise from my teacher. Thankfully, I was in a retreat, which gave space for enough mindful moments that I finally saw what was happening. A healthy dose of reality, from someone I trusted, was the only way to help me to let go. I sighed and resigned myself to asking the question.
“Ah,” said my teacher, his kind but unimpressed face puncturing my ego balloon with a resounding “pop”, “this is just an experience of meditative bliss.”
So not enlightenment after all. Not yet. I slouched and pouted with disappointment.
There have been multiple incidents like this. Again and again, I’ve had interesting meditation experiences that I clung to as special, only to be told by teachers that they were indications of progress in meditation perhaps, but not enlightenment.
As unpleasant as it is to be doused in cold water by the truth, I would choose it any day over the alternative of being deluded about one’s “attainments”. How much more time would be lost, how many hurtful words and actions might I have committed, had I been caught in the mistaken belief that I was enlightened or somehow “special”! And disappointment isn’t so bad: after a day or two, my motivation to practice would return, fueled by the gratitude and awareness that I am extremely lucky to even have teachers to correct me in the first place.
So, yes (along with many other reasons I’ll eventually explore on this blog), you need a teacher. Especially if you, like me, are quick to misinterpret experiences and eager to overestimate yourself! 🙂
