Esteemed Reader of our Magazine:
"Who am I? Why am I here? What is the purpose of life, and of human life in particular?" These are the great questions that arise in any mind that is allowed a moment of sober, uninterrupted reflection.
Generally, a person who seeks to answer the great questions is put in contact with an organization that professes to have the answers. Two centuries ago this was the exclusive domain of religion and its other-world teachings. Now, in the post-modern present we are de facto members of the Church of Progress, based on a combination of positivist science and "idle hands are the devil's workshop" Calvinism. In either world-view we find a cosmology that tells us our place in the larger scheme. Whether we are fallen children of god beholden to strive to fulfill prescribed obligations so as to arrive, after death, in a place called heaven; or we are accidental agglomerations of minuscule particles that have randomly "evolved" into differentiated organisms within a vast universe, empty save some flying fireballs and big rocks; or some combination of these or other world-views. We are rarely given the means by which to inspect who we are and what we are here for.
Some look deeper and attempt contact with traditions that don't provide ready answers so much as modes of asking the questions that yield not just insight, but an actual change of being. These seekers are fortunate to locate a teachings that are neither strictly philosophical nor inscrutable collections of dogma and ritual, but rather provide practical methodologies for making our fundamental inquiries vital.
Some blithely state, as though excusing themselves from the responsibility of obtaining direction, that "life is my teacher." And indeed life is perpetually providing lessons for discovering and realizing who we are. However, there is a prerequisite for learning from life; it is learning how to learn. To have this ability innately is the gift of only a few—the Milarepas, Shankaras, Ramana Maharshis, and other great self-realizers of antiquity. The rest of us are obliged to learn how to learn from teachers of learning.
Learning how to learn means gaining the ability to face the events of life without turning away, and hearing the directives of conscience that guide us to the path that is less comfortable, the more demanding path—the path that leads us to face and overcome weaknesses. This "path less traveled" leads to illumination, or enlightenment, while to avoid difficult circumstance leads to ignorance. But to have the discipline to follow this path requires great strength and therefore preparation.
Becoming a father a few weeks ago has brought these questions of life-purpose and creating conditions for its realization into sharper focus for me. I can say unequivocally that the process of birth was the most remarkable experience of my 34 years. I was privileged to witness and participate in the travail of my companion. Never have I seen anyone engage so fully with any experience as the mother of my child did, which left me in awe of her (and indeed all mothers); and left me inspired to face the events of my own life as directly as she faced labor and birth, and with similar indefatigable effort. Meeting her fears and difficulties without turning away allowed her to became more herself through this remarkable event. Clearly there is no better example for my son than the way in which his mother labored and succeeded in granting him entrance to the world.
Beginning with this feeling of humility I look ahead to the task of fatherhood, intending to choose the road of self-knowledge for my family at each juncture. I consider the words of a teacher in a story told by Ahmed el-Bedavi, founder of the Egyptian Bedavi Order of dervishes:
"The master said to his disciples: "You have to learn how to teach, for man does not want to be taught. First of all, you will have to teach people how to learn. And before that you have to teach them that there is still something to be learned. They imagine that they are ready to learn. But they want to learn what they imagine is to be learned, not what they have first to learn. When you have learned all this, then you can devise the way to teach. Knowledge without special capacity to teach is not the same as knowledge and capacity."
—Jason Stern