The Smile Hidden Inside Every Bun

Looking back upon my life, it seems that I’ve only been awake for… roughly half. That is, memories of my childhood are only vague & indistinct. To me, it truly does seem like I was sleep-walking through the first half of my time on this planet. There came a very specific moment when I suddenly noticed the universe at large. Since then, I’ve diligently been clearing the mental cobwebs and wiping the sleep from my eyes.

I suspect that this is a universal experience, and why the Daoists seek to become “Real Humans.” Isn’t it funny, then, that the more “real” you become, the more “unreal” the whole of the world gets? Now, I bet that the last statement sounds pretty strange to a non-meditator, but you’ll just have to take my word for it. It’s as if the solidity and weight of the world (including my-“self”) becomes less & less with each passing breath.

How much of this new clarity is due to my practice, how much simply to being this John-Person, and how much owed to the process of time passing? If you’ve ever stood with your nose pressed to a window, looking outside, you’ve had the experience of your breath fogging up your own view. I think that everyone lives this way, with their own distortion getting in the way of their perspective. Every day, I see the nature of the universe with greater lucidity. Slowly becoming fully awake. Maybe that’s why monks are always wearing pajamas? Hmmm…

There was, in fact, a “moment” that I recall as one of my first true instants of alert awareness. When I was about 15, I was living with my blood family in Los Angeles County. As a teenager, I was constantly ill in some way, and always tired. My whole body hurt, and my mind was endlessly fuzzy. Of course, I didn’t know that I was feeling this way. How can you know what “health” feels like if you’ve never experienced it before? I’ve always liked other people, but was pretty reclusive because of the discomfort. I never sought out social interactions, and constantly avoided family like the plague. So, as usual, I was reading in my room during one of the big family BBQs that my mom was so fond of having. Somebody, perhaps one of my aunts, was kind enough to bring me a burger (although I was already having some issues with eating meat). Peeling back the bun and taking off the lettuce to see what condiments she had put on it was, undeniably, a smiling face.

(I know what you’re thinking, and yes this probably is very similar to somebody in Mexico seeing the Virgin Mary in their tostada. However, for me, it was a smiley face.)

There was this absolute removing of all the veils from my mind, and I experienced the entire universe grinning at me and loving me through this little bit of dead cow. Also, I was suddenly able to recall countless times before that moment, when similar communications had occurred. I had simply been too distracted to notice. The whole universe was constantly shouting out and declaiming its love and joy, …and I had never heard?! All of the discomfort in my body-mind vanished as the silliness of my attitude became perfectly clear. The perfection of all existence was undeniable and blatantly obvious. Nothing was hidden, I had simply been…asleep.

Much later, after laughing for what seemed like hours, I tried telling my father of this experience. Unfortunately, I just didn’t have the words to communicate my transformation to him. I’m sure that the meaning was masked and obscured by Christian slang & his own metaphysical opinions. Another day, I remember attempting to communicate these feelings to my mother, but her typical negativity convinced me that it was something that I should simply keep to myself.

And so it went. Years would pass before I would even vaguely discuss my experience of the world with anyone other than Lian. She seemed to intuitively understand most of what I would talk about, and that gave me the courage to explore the ideas further. Not until later, in graduate school studying medicine, did I realize that telling people about this viewpoint was sometimes helpful to them. Oftentimes, after telling friends, they would treat me differently; but I have learned how to avoid those problems as time goes on.

Now, funnily enough, sharing this knowledge is my hobby and my profession. I am immensely grateful for having been given the chance to experience love as deeply as I have in my life. It’s all that I could ever want or need.

By the way, ever since this childhood experience, I have always drawn little smiley faces on paperwork, dusty cars, bathroom walls, etc. It was always my private little joke.

Leaning alone in the close trees,

I am playing my lute and humming a song

Too softly for anyone to hear --

Except my comrade, the bright moon.