Some years ago I was talking to a friend, a spiritual practitioner in a Hindu tradition. For years, we have had an ongoing discussion about the vagaries of the spiritual journey. My admiration for his devotion and commitment is total. For close to 30 years, he and his wife have practiced daily for three hours: an hour of meditation, an hour of yoga, and an hour of pranayama. It’s serious.
Even though our paths and practices differed (for example, on no days other than in retreats did I practice for three hours), I valued his perspective enormously. He had been through all the highs and lows of the journey—and when it comes to spiritual practice, both can be quite confusing.
I told him that I now found myself in an unfamiliar position regarding my own practice. For years, I had followed the instructions of various brilliant teachers to read certain texts, learn this or that practice, deepen my understanding of compassion, and so on. Their advice, it turned out, was impeccable.
Yet at this point, I told him, when I checked around for next steps, there were none. I could not find the next set of instructions. I had turned the page of the spiritual seeker manual and it was blank. With trepidation, I realized: No one can tell me what to do anymore.
“In my spiritual tradition,” he said, “we have a name for this part of the journey. It’s called stupefaction.” Stupefaction! Of course!
Familiar teachers have given you all they can. You’ve listened and absorbed and suddenly there is no longer anyone to listen to. You are on your own.
Or maybe not. In Vajrayana Buddhism, (the esoteric branch of the Buddhadharma and the source of my training), it is said that teachers arise in three ways. The outer teacher shows up as an actual being to learn from, whether in person or through encountering their work in books or videos. The inner teacher is your own inherent wisdom which is complete and full. The secret teacher is…I don’t know. It’s a secret? I don’t mean to say I know the secret but can’t tell you. I literally don’t know what it is. All I can posit is that the secret teacher encompasses all of phenomena, beyond duality, beyond even secrets. Whatever that might mean.
I once heard the great Khandro Rinpoche say that the job of the outer teacher is to introduce you to the inner teacher. The job of the inner teacher is, you guessed it, to introduce you to the secret teacher.
If the handoff is not made, someone has fallen down on their job.
Apparently, stupefaction occurs when the outer teacher has introduced you to the inner teacher, but you can’t quite make out what they’re saying. The secret teacher can also be felt lurking about, approximately 45 degrees away. When you turn to look, they move again.
It’s quite confusing.
And liberating.
Stupefying.
In this newsletter, I want to share with you my very personal journey as a Buddhist and a human. It includes traditional dharma certainly, but also thoughts on music (so much music), writing, teaching, cats, love, swimming, the enneagram, and goodness knows what else.
Please look for the next post shortly after I’ve written it.
May we swim together to meet the outer, inner, and secret teachers.
The 'teacher' trio is an interesting one. I enjoyed your writing and look forward to more. Especially the swimming... as I'm a mad keen sea swimmer.
Oh Susan so happy you’re on Substack. And you’re following my favorite group, Story Club?! No way!
Thank you for generously offering us even more ways to have access to your brilliant mind and your wonderful Susan-ness:)! Xo Eszter