Travis Eneix

Living in a big city comes with certain built in social interactions.  One is the obligatory requests for spare cigarettes, spare change, and offers of window washing that come with filling up your car with gas.  It’s such a normal part of the routine that it fades into the background in short order.

Lately though these moments of social intercourse had changed for me in a way I could not define at first.  When the person wanting a smoke/change/to clean my windows came from the front of my car the interaction proceeded in the manner I was used to.  But, when the approach was from the rear of my car the tone was demonstrably different.  Stories about life, commentaries on the state of the world, personal grievances, philosophical insights, and confessions of guilt would come along with the normal requests for charity or compensation for a minute’s work. I could not explain what the difference was even while the phenomenon was slowly becoming more noticeable.

The other day the difference was made clear.  The older, rail thin gentleman came to ask for spare change, approaching from the rear of the vehicle.  He opened the conversation with, “You’re a priest, huh?”

Then it hit me.  My bumper sticker.

Duh.  I had forgotten that sticker was there.  Truth is I am a priest of Dudesim. I am also a minister of the Universal Life Church, a priest of Spiritual Humanism and a Pope (but that’s in Discordianism where everyone is a Pope, which causes the title to perform the non-dual-like paradoxical function of being both the most and least important title of the set.)

I’ve been meditating daily for a while now.  One thing that extended meditation process does is allow you to better witness your own internal mental process.  That is not to say that you can do anything about it, but you can note its unfolding. As the man began to have a lighthearted conversation with me about life, the universe and everything, I noted the impact it was having on me.  This was serious.  This man was trusting me in the role I had advertised.  I freely admit that my ordinations were done half tongue-in-cheek, but only half.  The other half was called forward with a strong demand by this man’s trust that I was what I had identified as.

I listened with interest and openness as the man spoke.  The conversation was deep, not long, funny and touching.  I agreed where I agreed, and said “interesting” where it was.  I did not offer any advice as he had asked for none (for which I am extremely grateful.) I realized that my whole “job” in this interaction was simply to hold open a wide space for this human being to say things that he normally would not.  I’m not going to repeat them here, because I also recognized that a sacred trust had been evoked by the man, and I gladly honor that evocation.

As we parted we were both smiling and connecting with our eyes.  Two strangers who, for a brief moment on a Wednesday afternoon had touched that which is real in each other.

I’m thinking about putting another bumper sticker on the front of my car. 

The little one’s knowledge is the ending of wonder. The Big One’s knowledge is the beginning of wonder. The little one is heady and knowing and smart. He’ll buy knowledge at the expense of mystery every time, and sooner or later it gives him a splitting headache. The Big One buys mystery at the expense of knowledge till all that’s left is the Mystery itself, the Perfectly-known-as-unknowable-Source that is the cure of all the headaches it gives rise to. (Douglas Harding. The Trial of the Man who said he was God.)