The Memory Child and the Kingdom of Heaven

I remember very distinctly when I was about twelve years old, saying to myself that I was going to be sure when I "grew up " to recall what it was like when I was a child. Of course, I did not.

As I approached adolescence, I felt a strong sense of nostalgia for my childhood, even though still being in it. This was the 1950's, and in those days, a child was still a child at twelve. I loved being a kid. As a big kid, I was already getting "those looks " from older adults who suspected I was a budding "juvenile delinquent " , and this made me feel creepy.

I could see that adults were lost in a world of worries and concerns that not only troubled them, but created a gap between themselves and children. I could also see that this did not bother them; this separation. I could not understand this. I was aware, even then, that the bible held children in great respect. Jesus said children should be allowed to come to him, and that those who were like children were the first in the kingdom of heaven. So why did the grown ones look on us as "silly"?

As I grew older; teenager, youth, young adult (all the labels we endure until the day we are officially adults), I grew more and more away from the promise I had made to recall my childhood. When I was 18, I became a Nursery Sunday School Teacher at my local Presbyterian Church. I had a class of three year olds, and the teaching of Christianity took on a particular importance, even though I was an agnostic at the time. I found however, that the person who was learning the most was me. Each Sunday the three year olds would take me by the hand and remind me, not only who I had been, but who I was.

As I have mentioned before, as an adult well into my fifties, I made a habit of watching Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood. For those who do not know that show, Mr. Rogers was a Presbyterian Minister who had a show for very young children. Every day he would talk about things that mattered to his audience, their fears, their joys, their anger, separation from parents, and all manner of things we forget as adults. The show became a quiet meditation for me. It reminded me what childhood is like, not a "remembered " childhood, but the childhood that lives inside me now.

When we read a biblical passage like "to such as these (children) belongs the kingdom of Heaven " We are inclined to think of our own childhood. We nostalgically remember feelings and events of past days. Some of these remembrances may be painful, even tragic. We may think, "I'm glad that's over ", or "I remember being so free, but of course, I had no responsibilities then." But this is indulging in memory, nostalgia, or whatever you may call it. It is not a real experience. On a psychological level it is colored by all that has happened since, and judged by the "adult " mind, so that it takes on an entirely different meaning than it did to the child that was experiencing it. On the spiritual level, a similar thing takes place. We tend to glorify the "childlike " state into an innocence and blissfulness that never existed outside of our imagination. The innocent child we remember is just that; a memory child. A construct of the mind.

To be "born again ", to use a Christian term I dislike for it's misuse, is not to return to the memory child, but to become really childlike in a fresh way. To awaken in non-dual terms, is just this, to become aware of life in it's freshness, it's freedom, it's potential. Awakening is really no more than this. To "become as Children " is not to resurrect a memory of childhood, either pleasant or unpleasant, but to begin to discover life as fresh, new every day. To see a bird, as if it were the first you had ever seen, without names for the colors, or feathers, or even the word bird. Just a magical, flying wonder. To see the grass wave in the wind like the sea, only without the ideas of sea or wind or grass. This is the attitude that sees the kingdom of heaven, that lives there and has it as it's inheritance.

When I look at it now, I may not have remembered what it was like to be a child, but my promise to myself has been kept. Each day in the silent sunrise. tears of Joy well up, not from a remembered childhood, but in the experience of the awakened now. The child lives. Not the memory child. He grew and became a man, just as he should have. The child that lives is the child I am, reawakened from the dust of memory. Resurrected from the tomb of the mind, into the kingdom of Heaven.

Sound Effects, Conditioning, and Pavlov's Dogs

As a teenager in the late 1950's, I was just on time for the surge in interest in Hi-Fi and Stereo equipment and sound. Stereo was everything, and sound effects records were a big favorite of my older Brother and myself. There were albums with animal sounds, doors opening, and race cars and almost every thing you could imagine. One I remember particularly was called "Steam Railways under Thundering Skies". This album would conjure up images of Trains under dark evening skies, threatening clouds and driving rain. Not only was it entertaining to close your eyes and imagine being at the scene, but it was fascinating to think that this flat, black, piece of vinyl, could produce stimuli that in turn, produced thought in the form of memory.

Memory thoughts contain every conditioned thought we have had since we were told we were a boy or a girl, or that the sky is blue. We have a mother and father thought, and the story begins; the story of us. And in very short order, the slightest stimuli brings up thoughts from the "memory world". Many stimuli bring up both pleasant and unpleasant thoughts. Something as simple as the whiff of turkey roasting, may send your mind to Christmas, and a tree, or a beloved toy that Santa had brought. But it may also dredge up Uncle Charlie's drunken rage at the commercialism of Christmas, or your brother braking your new train set. All this just from a whiff of turkey!

We are surrounded by stimuli that a life in this "world" have conditioned to a defined reaction. Some stimuli make us joyful, and others sad, or even depressed. We have little control over the stimuli, it is part of the unfolding of life. But we can change our attitude about the thoughts the stimuli bring up. The smell of the turkey could be simply just the smell of the turkey without all the added baggage.

It is important to keep in mind that everything appears in consciousness, from your personal self to whatever image you hold of God. These are all thoughts, that appear in consciousness; just reflections of "reality". The memory thoughts are of the same substance as these; being conditioned thoughts that you have learned. Just as an infant eventually "perceives" a divide between it's "I" and the mother, the world and all it's objects arises. All it takes is the mind instructing a "you" it has created out of it's total misunderstanding of what it is. The assumed subject must realize it is simply another object and that the true "subject" is unknowable to the assumed subject.

Some events cause transitory pain. There is hunger, there is war. We cannot dismiss the realities of this world, no matter how illusory. Pain that happens in the moment has to be, and is, dealt with in the moment, be it physical or emotional. It may be well dealt with or poorly dealt with, but there is a response to the stimuli. The response is either a response in line with the moment, or it is a response from memory, or perhaps a response from both. Learning in advance how to respond to a physical emergency makes sense, and will give one the ability to overcome the "panic" response, but learned responses to emotional pain can create false images of others and the world. A drunken Uncle Charlie and some bad memory thoughts, and you live the pain every holiday season. The "event" having arisen in thought, holds the same "pain thought" every time you entertain it. And entertain is the right word, for you invite it in and let it have it's way.

That is the key. In finding what is real, discrimination of thought must be a habit. Just as the daily routine of life requires habit, so that it is not a distraction, the useless thoughts and troubling memories need to be politely escorted to the door. They don't need to be given "the bum's rush", but politely ignored so they leave of their own accord. The best way is to try not to invite them in the first place. At the first notice of stimuli, the first whiff of turkey, simply become aware of turkey. Expand it to dressing, if you dare, but at the first sign of embarrassment at memories of Uncle Charlie, or sadness over past disappointments or losses, see those thoughts as what they are, past memories telling a story. Toothless villains vanishing into dust.

Not unlike Pavlov's Dogs, the sound of a "bell", like the smell of a turkey, or the recorded sounds of a thunderstorm, can bring up memories so real we "feel" the emotions and often physical sensations associated with them. In fact, just as the "bell" is rung, or a "seed" of consciousness arises, the whole manifestation arises with it. The important thing to embrace is the sound, the smell, and the wonder, and not the illusive memory thoughts that arise with them. Don't name them, simply be with them in Love.