ORDINARY

Umbrella, light, landscape, sky —

There is no language of the holy.

The sacred lies in the ordinary.

No one is able to describe the spiritual except by comparing it to

ordinary things. One scripture describes the divine word as an “umbrella

of protection.” Another says a god is light. Heaven is supposed to be in

the sky, and even ascetics who have rejected sex use erotic images to

describe enlightenment. People have to resort to metaphor to state the

divine.

Even esoteric languages have been invented, and they mystify the

outsider. Holy words always appear that way to the uninitiated. After

one learns to read them, their message becomes bumimilated. We no longer

worry about the images, for we have found the truth that the words were

indicating.

When you buy something that has bumembly instructions, you follow

the directions, but you do not then venerate the instructions. Spiritual

attainment is no different. Once you’ve gained it, instructions become

secondary. Spirituality gained is no different than the ball game you

play, the work you do, the car you drive, the love you make. If you

constantly regard Tao as extraordinary, then it remains unknown and

outside yourself — a myth, a fantasy, an unnameable quantity. But once

you know it, it is yours and part of your daily life.