The Pilgrimage

A pilgrimage is a journey to seek answers. It may be internal or external. An internal pilgrimage may include contemplation, meditation, and reflection. Whereas an external pilgrimage is the seeking of knowledge or wisdom from another or through experiences.

Learning cultivated arts takes both kinds of pilgrimages. First, one has to ascertain what they are looking for and where it can be found and who can transmit the knowledge. Secondly, one has to re-align their life to have time, resources, and energy to commit to the path. Thirdly, the internal pilgrimage requires transforming oneself using the tools received. While these are the major steps, each point of growth and transformation will require the tenacity to repeat them again.

In our modern world, the easy access to information can stymie a pilgrimage in that it is not knowledge acquisition. Without a visceral and energetic relationship to the content when learning cultivation, the information never becomes knowledge. And without that it cannot transform into wisdom. By your physical presence you have experiences that embed and transmit knowledge that is challenging to replicate through screens and notes. More than words or written material, physical presence forms an essential part of how wisdom is transmitted and received. Knowledge, especially in cultivated arts, is shared only in a small part as verbal. The rest occurs through tone, gesture, breath, and the unspoken field of qi between people.

When a group comes together in sincerity, something subtle takes shape. A unified current carries understanding far beyond words. This is entrainment: the collective raising of vibration that allows the teachings to settle deeply into the body and heart.

Below is an example of my introduction to multidimensional learning (full presence). At university I received lectures and took notes but the way a Daoist master taught me awakened a whole other level of understanding that could only be received if I was also in the state of presence.

When I met Zhang Shifu, my root Daoist master, she wouldn’t permit taking notes. I protested and said that she was 10,000 miles away and if I didn’t remember something I couldn’t just come over for a cup of tea. She eventually acquiesced.

I later discovered the reason why that she didn’t permit note taking when I remembered a lesson from the Course in Miracles. If one takes notes, then they aren’t present for the real teaching; that which happens between the words in the silence of the empty space and that which can be perceived only with a still and clear mind. Once this realization set in, I stopped taking notes and with permission audio recorded her teachings.

We cannot think and be present, because all our thoughts are based on the past or projections into the future. They are not now. Taking notes is an exercise of recalling the past, whether immediate past or distant. None of us can take notes and be present with the full instruction especially if the teaching is from the physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual levels. The mere act of staying mental creates a separation in awareness.

There is a big difference between teaching and learning. Simply, teaching is the dissemination of information whether it be physical, emotional, mental, or spiritual or a combination thereof. Learning is the ability to receive, process, retain, integrate, and embody that teaching.

As an attendee, being there allows you to absorb on many levels. There are moments in class when you stop writing and simply listen, not just with your ears, but with your being. The auditory channel becomes merely the vessel for something vaster, an energetic transmission that seeps into marrow and mind alike. Words spoken by a teacher carry an entirely different resonance when received in person. If you have experienced this, you already know; if not, it cannot be fully described, but you may have experienced an ah-ha moment during class or conversation. This is similar.

The pilgrimage itself demands commitment of time, energy, resources and faith in a process that may not yield immediate results. The cultivated arts rarely promise instant gratification. In time, though, one realizes: the pursuit is the reward. What matters is who you’ve become through the journey. Looking back, I can’t quantify what I’ve invested in this path, nor would I want to. Decades of study, travel and hardship with teachers some of which have become friends and others family both in the States and throughout China. I’m far richer for the experience.

We live in a time when many have grown too comfortable staying home, content to “study” through screens. Information is endless and immediate, but understanding is not. Our devices have made knowledge abundant yet experience scarce. For those unable to travel, technology is a blessing but for others, it has fostered complacency. True study demands movement both inner and outer, especially for the cultivated arts.

As a teacher of nearly four decades, I often reflect on the many teachers who guided me. Their presence, their integrity, shaped my path more than their words ever could. In time, gratitude ripens into responsibility which is the duty to pass on what we’ve been given with the same integrity. Too often today, traditions are diluted or streamlined to fit modern convenience. But the essence of any art lies in the depth of its transmission, not its speed or efficiency.

To teach in itself is an art which is cultivated through years of refinement. There is no greater fulfillment than to be entrusted with sharing what you love. If something stirs your heart, a path may be calling to you make a pilgrimage. The journey itself is the lesson, the teacher, and ultimately, the reward.

Note: A synchronicity occurred recently. While I was writing this article a good friend in Qi, Mark Rinehart had sent out his own on the same concept. The mistake I made was to read his article before I finished mine. He elucidated some of his points so well, that once read, I couldn’t think of another way to phrase similar. I decided to give him a call and after speaking with him, he allowed me to blend my writing with some of his prose.