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Nonduality Salon (/ \)

issue number two - October, 2000

Nonduality Salon Magazine



by Greg Goode


It's nacholicious! Just like a tortilla chip, I saw there was no inside or outside.
--Jon Evans, Ch'an Buddhist, San Diego

The spoon's got to go into the pot along with the beans. Only then will the incessant self-monitoring stop.
--Michael Rosker, Psychic Energetics Healer, New York

We have nacho satsangs. Each Tuesday evening in Manhattan at 6pm, for the last two years or so. Instead of Arunachala, Bombay or Rishikesh, we have Tacocina, Samalitas, and Burritoville. Burritoville is our favorite. Nachos, tacos, burritos, corn chips, refried beans, sour cream, guacamole and hot sauce. And to drink, Jarritos Mexican sodas -- pineapple, tamarind, guava, strawberry and fruit punch. You order, go to the counter, pick up the food, and chow down. These are the trappings for deep, intimate, but fascinating conversations about emotions, ego, Self, love for the Guru, finding the Witness, and the non-localization of awareness.

There's no charismatic leader, no approved school of thought. Just open, honest, democratic inquiry and sharing among friends. Sometimes it's just two of us, sometimes four or five. Sometimes people come from the tri-state area to join us. There are quite a few who've just returned from quests in India, passing through New York on the way to a satsang-dense area like Boulder, Sedona or Berkeley, and want to keep the rhythm going.

Nachos make for good satsang. The restaurant provides a colorful setting and handy objects. Lots of visuals and props. There's the nonduality of the infinitely circular nacho plate. The chips are the physical body, the hot sauce is the guru, the salt is the embellishment of concepts and baggage, and the flimsy plastic spoon is that pesky small self that people try to spoon away. When someone asks what kind of technique they can use to make the last vestiges of the ego drop, my friend Michael is tireless about throwing his spoon onto his plate, looking into their eyes with great love, "You can't do it like that. It's all got to go! Be willing to face it all! You're trying to use the spoon! Instead, the spoon itself's got to go into the pot along with the beans. Only then will the incessant self-monitoring stop," he tells them.

One visitor had just come from a months'-long stay at Lucknow, Papaji's hometown in India. "I love Papaji, I attended his funeral, and just took another trip to fill up with His energy. Everything is Consciousness, they say, but some things are special - and Consciousness is One with Papaji and comes from Papaji," he said. "I'd rather merge with Papaji than be enlightened," he gushed.

"Please, do so!!" we urged.

"Well, I can't, not quite yet. I'm getting closer, but I was really close for a while!"

So we pointed to the nacho plate and swirling our hands around it, asked, "Consciousness is everywhere, right?"

"Yeah...?" he said, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

We slid the bottle of Tabasco sauce to a far corner of the table and pointed to the bottle, "But you see Papaji only THERE, right?"

"Right!" he said, with a beatific smile on his face.

We pointed back to the guacamole on top of the nachos, "If Consciousness is everywhere, and Consciousness is One with Papaji, then isn't Papaji there, too?," we said, dipping a chip into that very same guacamole, and taking a bite.

He thought for a few minutes, "Hmm, well, I guess so," he said, looking unconvinced, then a bit dejected. "But I want to feel Him in my heart wherever I go."

We were finished eating by this time and cleaned a place on top of the nacho plate. We plunked the bottle of Tabasco onto the plate. "Maybe," we suggested, "in addition to seeing Consciousness as limited to Papaji, you can try to see Papaji unlimited as Consciousness. He can never leave you, nor can you leave him."

No thinking this time. "Yes! That sounds good! That way I will be merged," he said. We did a high five all around. The we took our final swigs of soda, bussed the trays to the turn-in area, exchanged hugs all around, and left.

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