Godshit/Dogshit in My Pocket

Sunday, August 11, 2013:

[Aranyabho] had a sheepish grin on his face as Ahjahn Chah was good naturedly berating him. As I sat down Ahjahn Chah said, “Aranyabho’s got dogshit in his pocket.” I didn’t say anything, waiting for the explanation. “Aranyabho’s got dogshit in his pocket. He goes somewhere and sits down but there’s a bad smell, so he thinks, hmmm, this place is no good. He gets up and goes somewhere else, but he notices the bad smell again so then he goes somewhere else… He doesn’t realize he’s carrying dogshit around with him wherever he goes…”

Paul Breiter;

Venerable Father

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Of course, when I read something like this… something very cleverly put that has some sort of dolt as the object of derision, I am sure it isn’t about me. “Yes, it must be about those other stupid fools,” I smugly say to myself.

            Sometimes, when I sit honestly with naked humility, I can see through the mist to clarity of mind… a clarity of mind that senses my own ridiculousness. I get it…. I have sat down with the odor of dogshit in my pocket… I have brought with me in my clothes preconceived notions… a paradigm of beliefs about myself… about myself or the dogshit I have accumulated… the Godshit that says to me "I need to improve myself"... that I am not doing it right… that there must be a better way to do this: I chase ideas, teachers, and dharmas of different colors. I do everything required… I am not alone in this: damn, I can’t count on my fingers and toes the amount of times I have heard from one of my fellow alcoholics/addicts… "I did everything my sponsor asked me to do, I diligently worked the Steps, I made all my amends, I prayed every morning for God to help me stay sober, I went to three meetings a day and sponsored several others… but I still went out when temptation was too great. Where did I go wrong? Maybe 'the Program' isn’t for me."

            It is difficult to respond to the poor soul. The answer is as elusive as holding water in one’s hand. My heart goes out to those who are struggling because I know how he/she feels. I have felt at times exactly the same way… that I am unhappy doing what I’m doing and I must try something else... I have had all of these feelings except that I haven’t picked up a drink, yet. When I go somewhere else I bring myself; my own dogshit in my pocket. The smell doesn’t go away and it isn’t enough to discard the crap. The odor remains until I cast of the jacket; the delusion that there is somewhere else to go; some practice; something I am missing.

I sit and breathe. I sit and breathe in the understanding that I am enough. I’ve done enough; that the world of wonder isn’t right before me… it is me… that God isn’t somewhere else… that I am not created by God… the universe… the cosmos… but I am a seedling that grows from it. My very heartbeat is the conscious expression of the dance of Creation; nothing more and nothing less.

To connect with the realization I am that and that was enough and that was more important than mere abstinence from drinking and using: these were but the dogshit in my pocket. I got rid of this notion that i was trying to get sober and that it was to cast off the cloak of my beliefs… this Godshit of delusion and the obsession to drink or pick-up; to trade it for union with a Power greater than that old sinking jacket I call myself and I sat with my nakedness.

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