Authors: Greg Kincaid
“Good point, Mashid. First, the third grader will often follow the rules without understanding or even questioning and is too often indifferent to the purpose behind the rule.”
Ted had been thinking the same thing. “This point reminds me of that awful experiment where people were told to keep applying more electric shock to actors who were screaming in fake agony. Rule followers tend to just do what they are told.”
Mashid added, “For me this is a particular challenge for Islam. A blind rule-following mentality promotes rigid, maladaptive scripts like archaic gender roles and ancient dietary restrictions. These scripts can be very limiting, both spiritually and psychologically.”
“For instance?” Ted asked.
Angel thought a bit and then elaborated. “Rules help us to understand the universe, but every so often we get the rules wrong. The rules we live by become habituated into our superego, and our superego can be a real brutal pain in the ass.”
“The rhetoric of politicians and special interest groups seems to exploit our third-grade mind-set,” Ted observed.
Mashid nodded but still asked, “How so?”
Ted collected his thoughts, hoping he had this one right. “Seductive ‘It must be this or that’ type rules and platitudes easily hook our left-brained logic. We’ve all heard them. ‘You’re either with us or against us’ and ‘People kill, not guns.’ I’ve always thought that these little political aphorisms were designed not so much to encourage rational discussion as to shut it down.” Neither Mashid nor Angel commented, so Ted continued, “Don’t most rules need exceptions to work?” He paused to see if Angel was following his point and then asked, “As a percentage, how much of the world’s population makes it to a third-grade worldview?”
Angel did her best to answer. “First, let me say that it’s not quite that easy. Most of us slip in and out of our spiritual worldviews. In other words, on some issues I may think like a first or second grader and on other issues like a fifth or sixth grader. At Christmas, for example, I’m still very greedy and want everything to revolve around my needs and wishes, and I still want some magical being to deliver to me a perfect gift. So on that day I guess I’m thinking like a second grader, wanting a mythical intervener to make my life better. On
other days my thinking might be, well, rather sophisticated, say, like a fifth grader. So the question is better posed as ‘At what level does most of the adult world rest or seem anchored
most
of the time?’ ”
“That makes sense to me,” Ted answered.
“We all have plenty of room to grow. I believe Jesus, Buddha, Muhammad, and all of the world’s spiritual leaders address how to get humanity en masse to realize its spiritual potential and reach the sixth grade.”
“Do some religions make it more difficult to …”
Before Ted could formulate the question, Angel supplied a hint of an answer. “Tomorrow, on the way to South Dakota to help Aunt Lilly, we’re going to drive through Nebraska. You’re in for a treat. You’re going to meet one of most remarkable Buddhist scholars and bicycle repairmen, Stephen Singleton. When we talk about Buddhism, we’re going to switch gears into a radically different type of religion than either Christianity or Islam. It is more a study of the mind and how our habitual thinking interferes with our own happiness. A very nice place, I might add, to talk about fourth grade, the level of reasoning, and the tendencies of various religions to either help or impede our spiritual journey.”
Ted recognized that Angel would not allow him to move to the next level until she thought he was ready, so as they turned and made their way back to Mashid’s Earthship, he allowed the conversation to rest, Lakota style, in silence. He stopped repeatedly to bend down and hold Argo close to him, watching the sun climb above the mountains that rose to the
east of Taos. He commented to his dog, “Argo, it looks awfully nice up there in the mountains. Maybe you and I need to take another hike.”
Argo wagged his tail, apparently concurring. The idea was a good one. Ted smiled at his host and they continued toward her house. He liked the way the early-morning sun reflected off the small sequins on Mashid’s hijab. It was as if each one somehow captured the surrounding mountains, sky, and desert and reflected them back at him. Ted thought some more about the levels. This pilgrimage was the best thing he had done in a long time.
Mashid broke the silence. “It looks like we’ve worked our way back to my home. Why don’t you let me pack a lunch for the road and then you can head for Nebraska with plenty of daylight driving time remaining?”
Ted showered and cleaned up, then pulled out his laptop and sent another inquiry to Legal Aid on the reservation. He’d already written and requested that someone contact him about Aunt Lilly, but he had gotten no response, so he wrote again and tried to provide more detail. He was a family friend, a lawyer, and willing to help out if he could, but he needed a copy of the file.
While Ted worked, Mashid and Angel spoke in the kitchen.
“I like Ted. He seems bright and sincere. You chose your student well.”
Angel allowed herself to be vulnerable. “I felt so stupid driving around in Bertha for months, watching what little
money I had dwindle away. My phone never rang. Not once. Now I realize how crazy this was. My father was right: no one was ever going to call me. I was just about to give up when I literally ran into Ted.”
Mashid laughed, not at Angel but with her. “What in the world were you thinking?”
Angel giggled. “Don’t laugh at me, Mashid! I already feel so stupid. I enjoy this man, but we are very different people.”
“Isn’t that what good partners do: bring out the best in each other?”
With his belongings all packed, Ted walked down the hall, collapsed onto the living room sofa, and waited patiently while Angel and Mashid spoke softly in the kitchen. He closed his tired eyes and relaxed. His leg twitched and soon he was dozing.
Looking over the half wall that separated the kitchen and living-room spaces, Mashid pointed to Ted and whispered to Angel, “Go and rest. I’ll finish up in here.”
At some point well into his nap, Ted’s head fell forward awkwardly, and this jerked him back to consciousness. He was surprised to find Angel sitting next to him, also asleep. Apparently, the work of a spiritual consultant was as tiring as late-night legal research and brief drafting.
Even more surprising, Angel’s head was resting on his shoulder. Mashid walked into the room and, seeing that Angel had fallen asleep, she looked at Ted, put her finger to her lips, and quietly retreated into the kitchen.
Ted tried to stay very still so as not disturb Angel. Having
her snuggled up so close to him was comforting, and he was hoping it signaled a growing trust between them. Thankfully, No Barks wasn’t on the sofa with them. She was on the floor beside Argo.
Ted wondered if Angel’s resting position was an accident or a conscious choice. Was she growing more comfortable around him, or was his shoulder just a convenient headrest? Were they just friends, or was there something more? Surely teachers didn’t rest their heads on the shoulders of students.
Ted wanted to savor this moment—really hold on to it and enjoy it. He could feel Angel’s warm breath on his neck. He took a careful inventory of her so he could re-create her image in his mind later. It might have to last a lifetime. He wanted to know everything about her so he could recall this moment with precision.
He noticed the hairs in Angel’s eyebrows and eyelashes. He pondered where the first wrinkles of age might appear on her warm face. He studied every nuance of her nose until he knew it like a skier knows his favorite run. He noticed the tightness of the skin over her cheekbones and the smell of her dog on her sweater. He noticed the soft, dark hairs that were barely visible on her upper lip.
After so carefully observing Angel, he shut his eyes and told himself that this was probably not appropriate, perhaps slightly prurient. He reminded himself that what made Angel Two Sparrow so special to him was not the hairs on her face. What he cared for resided deeper, much deeper. He was adequately versed in simple animal magnetism, but this more
spiritual attraction he felt toward Angel was an entirely new experience. It occurred to Ted that falling in love with Angel would be like falling in love with the tour guide at the Taj Mahal. How could one separate the beautiful tour guide from the beautiful tour?
The sad thought also occurred to him that while most grown men and women spend every day of their lives snuggled up beside someone they love, perhaps to whom they even feel some spiritual connection, it had not been that way for him. He was nearly thirty years old. Why had he never felt this kind of connection before? With his eyes closed, he breathed in the subtle scent of her coconut shampoo and made a commitment to himself.
He and Argo would not spend the rest of their lives alone. He could never return to his same old life in Crossing Trails. Grandpa Raines had been right. It was empty and he now knew it.
Angel was slowly giving him the confidence to climb out of the hole where he been sequestered for too long. It was as if he had been on a long drunken bender and was slowly returning to sobriety. He was finding a great deal of value in Angel’s instruction. He committed to double down on his efforts and be less cavalier about his course work with Angel.
Angel moved slightly, and he was concerned she might rouse from her slumber. Instinctively he moved closer to her, hoping that she would feel secure and safe beside him. He felt sincere affection for Angel, so why hide it? Why not act on how he felt?
Ted slowly put his arm around Angel and let it rest comfortably and confidently on her shoulders. Without waking, Angel nestled in even more closely, and Ted felt a strange merging of their bodily energies. Being a novice at such feelings, he knew he was speculating, but it felt like something was different between them. In some way Angel had permitted Ted into her space. It seemed important, but he wasn’t sure why.
Ted thought he saw a slight smile on Angel’s face, but he quickly concluded it was just her generally pleasant demeanor shining through. Basking in Angel’s aura, Ted felt gratitude emerge. He wasn’t sure exactly what to do with this feeling, but he knew he had to find a way to be as valuable to her as she was to him. How could he ever accomplish this? The answer seemed to be Aunt Lilly.
Angel and Ted navigated north from Taos and into Colorado. At I-70, they turned east toward Kansas. Ted was reluctant to leave the Chieftain behind and unattended in Pecos, but he was even more reluctant to travel separately in his own vehicle without Angel and No Barks by his side. Argo and the wolf dog had become inseparable.
Father Chuck assured Ted that his grandfather’s beloved RV would be safe in the large monastery parking lot and that Ted could fly back to retrieve it when he was ready, presumably in the next week or two.
As Bertha chugged along, Angel gave Ted another meditation practice to add to his spiritual tool set. Angel claimed that she’d learned the practice from Father Chuck. This seemed strange to Ted, so he asked her, “I thought priests prayed. So Christians meditate too?”
“Christianity has a long history with meditation, particularly within the early church. There’s been a considerable resurgence in the last fifty years or so. As you might suspect, prayer becomes more like meditation or contemplation when practiced by Christians at the upper grade levels.”
Ted enjoyed doing the exercises with Angel. As she had predicted, he found them easier with her by his side. He closed his eyes and got comfortable in the passenger seat. But before she could start, Ted had to ask, “Do you think it’s safe to do this meditation stuff while you’re driving?”
“Are you saying that my preoccupation with spiritual matters might divert my attention away from the mundane task of piloting a two-ton bookmobile down I-70 at eighty miles per hour?”
“You do have a history here.”
Angel grinned. “As long as no one pulls out right in front of me, totally failing to yield, we’ll be fine.”
“Promise to keep your eyes open and resist the impulse to levitate out of your seat to the beat of Lakota drum music?”
“For you, yes.”
Angel continued, “Instead of just observing your mind and body, thoughts and feelings, I would like you to visualize a benevolent energy force hovering in a twelve-inch sphere directly above your forehead. If you see it larger or smaller, that’s okay. After you visualize this energy source, allow it to expand gently and envelop your entire body. You might perceive this force to be something like a radio frequency or a ball of energy. But remember, the energy force is good: it is love and compassion. I want you to tune in to this energy frequency and allow it to resonate in your chest cavity—in the spaces around your heart. This is where it is best perceived. It will not enter without your consent. In fact, you must earnestly desire its presence within you. You are like the receiver,
and you must consciously choose to flip on the switch and receive the signal. Form an intention to allow this presence of goodness, godliness, to rest within you.”
Ted found that Angel’s words once again had a nearly hypnotic effect on him and, just as she had described it, he could immediately sense the orb of positive energy hovering above him, expanding, migrating, and eventually resonating within him.
“Some might call this benevolent force God stuff, but that label may not be helpful for you. So don’t put a human persona on the energy field. You might refer to it as your
inborn divinity
. Simply try to experience this reverberating energy in your chest cavity. Can you invite it in and allow the signal to resonate and slowly increase in amplitude?”
Sitting in the high-backed passenger seat with his feet flat on the old vinyl-covered floorboard, Ted tried to open up his heart space to this energy that Angel described and let it expand even further. Again, somewhat to his amazement, that was precisely what occurred. At first the reverberation was so mild that he thought he was just imagining it—sort of a spiritual placebo effect.