Unknown Unknowns

AN ASTROPHYSICIST proudly asserts on the radio that scientists now have a “simple, well-defined model that explains everything in the universe” - or at least the 5 percent of it that can be described as “familiar matter”. “Dark matter” and “dark energy”, whose properties scientists don’t understand, make up the rest. The radio show’s host is incredulous. “Aren’t we in the twenty-first century?” he asks. “To say we don’t know what makes up 95 percent of the universe is astounding.” I, however, find these numbers vaguely reassuring. Perhaps that’s because, after all the years I’ve spent in therapy, and all the philosophical texts I’ve read, and all the spiritual teachings I’ve studied, at least 95 percent of my own existence remains utterly mysterious to me.

I CALL THIS LIFE mine, but do I own my life the way I own my house or the land my house is built on? Do I own the ground of my being?

SAY WHAT YOU WILL about Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, but his much-ridiculed observation in 2002 that there are ‘‘known knowns,” “known unknowns,” and “unknown unknowns” is sound epistemology. Imagine how much more gravitas his words would have had if uttered in broken English by a Zen rōshi with a shaved read.

IT’S ONE THING TO BE serious; it’s another to be self-serious. Honoring the Mystery means being able to laugh at ourselves, too. Most of the great spiritual teachers have known this, I suspect. After all, how many people would have gathered to hear Jesus speak if he’d been just another self-righteous sourpuss? Clearly the man knew how to work a crowd. And once you have your audience doubled over in laughter, you can sell them the Brooklyn bridge; you can convince them to love their neighbor.

I RARELY TALK in my sleep, but in the middle of the night my own voice woke me; “This is the Mystery.” And suddenly I was awake. And for a flickering moment I understood; The Mystery isn’t out there somewhere, millions of light-years away. Nor is it waiting to reveal itself until after I become enlightened or, barring that unlikely possibility, after I die. Then, this morning, I came across these words by Ramana Maharshi: “God’s grace is the beginning, the middle, and the end. When you pray for God’s grace, you are like someone standing neck deep in water and yet crying for water. It is like saying that someone neck deep in water feels thirsty or that a fish feels thirsty or that water feels thirsty”

MAYBE GOD HAS NEVER BEEN as far away as I’ve thought. I can’t say what God is. But when I stop pretending that I know who I am, God is here. When I stop insisting on my version of the truth, something reaches out for me; truer than any words, more luminous that any philosophy. This is something I’ve experienced, though I can’t prove it. I can only honor or dishonor it by how I live.