Notes

"May I ask a question?" Arthur asks.
"Yes, Arthur."
"You make Spiritual Autolysis sound rather unpleasant."
"Yes, Arthur, it's an unpleasant process."
"Oh. I see. Thank you."
"You're welcome. The process of Spiritual Autolysis is basically like a Zen koan on steroids. All you really have to do is write the truth."
"Write the truth?"
"Sounds simple, doesn't it? Yes, that's all there is to it. Just write down what you know is true, or what you think is true, and keep writing until you've come up with something that is true."
"There are three hundred and sixty degrees in a circle," says Arthur.
"Sure," I agree. "Start with something as seemingly indisputable as that, and then start examining the foundation upon which that statement is built and just keep following it down until you've reached bedrock, something solid—true."
"There aren't three hundred and sixty degrees in a circle?" he asks.
"The question presupposes that there's a circle."
"There's not a circle?"
"Maybe. I don't know. Is there?"
"Well, if I draw a circle..."
"I? When did you confirm the existence of an I? Draw? Have you already raced past the part where you confirmed that you are a separate physical being is a physical universe with the ability to perceive, to draw? Have you already confirmed duality as truth?"
Arthur is thoughtful and silent for several moments. "I guess that's what you mean by following it down. This is very confusing. I don't even know where to start."
"It doesn't matter where you start. You could start by using Ramana Maharshi's query, 'Who am I?' or 'What is me?', and then just work at it. Just try to say something true and keep at it until you do. Write and rewrite. Make it cleaner and cut out the excess and ego and follow it wherever it leads until you're done."
"And how long does that usually take?"
"I would think a couple of years. But when you're done, you're done."
"And by done, you mean...?"
"Done."
"Oh. Is this like journaling? Like keeping a diary?"
"Ah, good question. No. This isn't about personal awareness or self-exploration. It's not about feelings or insights. It's not about personal or spiritual evolution. This is about what you know for sure, about what you are sure you know is true, about what you are that is true. With this process you tear away layer after layer of untruth masquerading as truth. Anytime you go back to read something you wrote, even if it was only yesterday, you should be surprised by how far you've come since then. It's actually a painful and vicious process, somewhat akin to self-mutilation. It creates wounds that will never heal and burns bridges that can never be rebuilt and the only real reason to do it is because you can no longer stand not to."
He lets that sink in for a few moments. "What's the reason for writing it down? Why not just do it in your head like with koans?"
"That's another good question. Yes, koans and mantras are done in your head. Ramana Maharshi's 'Who am I?' query is done in your head. The reason for writing it down on paper or on a computer where you can see it is because the brain, unlikely as it may sound, is no place for serious thinking. Any time you have serious thinking to do, the first step is to get the whole shootin' match out of your head and set it up someplace where you can walk around it and see it from all sides. Attack, switch sides and counter-attack. You can't do that while it's still in your head. Writing it out allows you to act as your own teacher, your own critic, your own opponent.
never heal and burns bridges that can never be rebuilt and the only real reason to do it is because you can no longer stand not to."
He lets that sink in for a few moments. "What's the reason for writing it down? Why not just do it in your head like with koans?"
"That's another good question. Yes, koans and mantras are done in your head. Ramana Maharshi's 'Who am I?' query is done in your head. The reason for writing it down on paper or on a computer where you can see it is because the brain, unlikely as it may sound, is no place for serious thinking. Any time you have serious thinking to do, the first step is to get the whole shootin' match out of your head and set it up someplace where you can walk around it and see it from all sides. Attack, switch sides and counter-attack. You can't do that while it's still in your head. Writing it out allows you to act as your own teacher, your own critic, your own opponent. By externalizing your thoughts, you can become your own guru—judging yourself, giving feedback, providing a more objective and elevated perspective."
Arthur is looking at me questioningly, so I continue.
"You're an engineer, right?"
"Yes."
"And you engineer what?"
"Bridges."
"In your head?"
Arthur pauses a moment to consider.
"Yes and no," he says.
"Okay. You're saying yes because there's the process of conceptualization, right? The idea stage?"
"There is, yes."
"And other internal creative and problem-solving stages along the way?"
"Yes."
"And then what? What's after the initial conceptualization?"
"Well, then there are the meetings and preliminary drawings and more meetings and the project managers..."
"The creative process at work."
"Well, yes."
"So basically, it starts as an idea—a thought in someone's head— and ends up as a real bridge somewhere in the real world."
"Hmm, yes."
"And along the way it evolves, takes shape, comes into focus, right? It moves from idea to rough sketches to highly precise drawings and scale models to an actual bridge that will last a hundred years, something like that?"
"Something like that, yes."
"And that's the creative process—thought to reality. It's always the same process whether it's a bridge, a poem, the space shuttle, or your life. Does that make sense?"
"Okay. Yes."
"You recognize that from your own life? Your own work?"
"Yes, I do."
"Could that all happen in someone's head? One person's head?"
Arthur laughs. "Certainly not."
"No. Thought, whether in the brain or out, is a creative tool, and Spiritual Autolysis is a creative process, just like any other. Just like building a bridge."
"But bridge builders are very educated men," Arthur points out. "It's both an art and a science and it can take a lifetime to fully develop. Creative endeavor is erected on a foundation of knowledge and experience."
"Absolutely," I reply, "and I can assure you that while you're in this process of self-digestion you're going to develop a voracious appetite for all sorts of knowledge—religious, esoteric, metaphysical, spiritual, New Age, Eastern and Western philosophy, all that and more. You'll be relying on the knowledge and experience of men and women from throughout history without regard to race or nationality, but your search will take you far beyond human intelligence. Truth transcends time and boundaries, and so will your search for it.
You'll definitely want a good library or used bookstore nearby."
"Does that make Spiritual Autolysis a path of intellect as opposed to a path of heart or a path of devotion or a path of service?"
Ugh.
"Frankly, you start losing me a little bit there, Arthur."
He gives me a perplexed look.
"I don't know what all these different paths are, Arthur. Spiritual Autolysis is an intellectual endeavor, but I balk at calling it a path of intellect. It's a process of discrimination, of unknowing what is untrue, of progressively stripping away the false and leaving only what is true. Discrimination is used in a machete-like manner for hacking one's way through the dense underbrush of delusion, or, if you prefer, in a swordlike manner for hacking off one's own delusion- riddled head. Intellect is used as the sword with which ego commits a slow and agonizing suicide—the death of a thousand cuts. Whether that makes it this kind of path or that kind of path doesn't concern us here. That's something for a student of paths to worry about. If the question stays with you then it's something you can address for yourself in the process of Spiritual Autolysis."
I used to be pretty well versed in spiritual literature and I recall that there's a lot of talk about different paths, but from where I sit it's just another way of distracting yourself from the difficult work of breaking free. No theory of paths is of any practical value in waking up. The very idea that there is set path, much less a choice of paths, that one need merely follow is ruinously misleading. In short, this path business is just another case of the blind leading the blind— part of the vast mythology created by caterpillars teaching caterpillars how to become butterflies.