Bruce Wagner - The Empty Chair

“After a week of convalescence, I attended my guru’s satsang and — how to convey — he smiled at me from his chair and all seemed right with the world. A simple smile that encompassed everything! O, Queenie, I had the strongest feeling — quickly ratified by my guru himself — that he knew , knew exactly what had transpired. He saw the change that had taken place within. That was when he spoke to me so tenderly of bodhicitta and the Six Perfections. He said how humbled and grateful I should be for having had the experience and not to let pride carry me away.

“I never looked back. It took some doing but with the help of a blood-brother — the Samoan who watched over you at the clinic, you knew him as ‘Gaetano’—with Gaetano’s long-distance help, I pulled off the trick of disengaging from various undertakings (there’s a deliberate play on words there), both legitimate and illegitimate. He saw to it that final debts were paid and collected too. A large sum of money accrued to a Swiss account for ready access should the need arise.

“I applied myself to the concepts of ‘the American’ with indefatigable resolve and rigorous intent. I kept a close eye on him, my Queen, to be sure! There was still a touch of the cynic in me, vigilant in its search for a chink in the armor, a flaw in his assertions, a sophistry in thought and action. But I failed at finding one. The harder I looked, the more convinced I was that the Great Guru’s reluctant successor was also a reluctant saint. I repledged my fealty and devotion. The truth being, each day this blond enigma loomed larger and more difficult to parse. I suppose it didn’t hurt that there was an ease, a ‘naturalness’ between us — at least I imagined there was! — as if we shared an agreement of some sort, one that transcended Mind. ‘The Fifth Column’—that’s what he called Mind. O, he didn’t think very highly of it at all , which was mildly ironic, in that one needed a very fine mind in order to have had such a thought in the first place. But he thought it a saboteur of the first rank…

“I craved being near him and gladly paid the price. For my guru was exhausting to be around… it wasn’t that he was ‘intense,’ which of course he was though not in the way we define the word. No, there was something about his energy , a heaviness, but an openness and lightness too. Like an inverted bell… I know I’m not explaining it too well. Perhaps you’ve met such beings in your own travels on the path? Anyway, it’s my understanding that such a characteristic — this heavy, dominating energy — is shared by any muni worth his salt. These men are not sweethearts! Another consequence was more personal. The more time I spent with my guru, the more likely it was that he’d pounce, cudgeling me for an idiotic or glib remark, some inanity he’d found worthy of teasing me about for months! Which was actually of great benefit though it never felt that way in the moment. He was a wonderful mimic — it’s not easy to watch oneself be eerily caricatured, especially in front of a large group. But always instructive… With public shaming, he dissembled your ego and pride, forcing you to examine your behavior, actions and beliefs. One had to be very much on one’s toes. When he focused on you, look out! He saw right through me. Do you remember my fear? That the Great Guru was sure to have my number ? Well, that worst fear came true after all! In spades. The best teacher, they say, is the one who tells you what you don’t wish to hear. Unpleasant truths… ‘The American’ was no pushover. In the beginning, his admonishments sent me to bed for a week. He never raised his voice but the sting could be felt for days, like a scorpion’s. Yet he was capable of unutterable tenderness. If one despaired, he poured nectar on the wound. At the same time, he was completely without pity.

“The years fell away. I didn’t miss my old life. Isn’t that something? Did not miss being a player. I did miss you , my Queen — well… a little, anyway! The Mogul Lane clan felt like family though I was careful never to make the mistake of being familial with ‘the American’… Slowly, I assumed the same tasks he’d performed for his guru — book publishing, distribution of audiotapes, all the sundry financial affairs. As you know, I was uniquely qualified to take the reins, by virtue of the profession I’d given up. It seemed the only activity I didn’t inherit was making book on the ponies! You see, dear Queenie, my challenge was to be thoroughly engaged , to take on as many responsibilities as I could handle without becoming self-important or feeling like the ‘linchpin.’ My guru would have picked up on that in an instant — then out on my ass I’d go! Not really… I doubt he’d have been so merciful as to send me packing. No, he’d rather see me twist at the end of my own rope. I avoided such a pitfall by keeping busy (a glorious way to quiet the mind), doing service, immersing myself in the river of my guru and the tributaries of all the workaday apparatuses that kept Mogul Lane afloat. No time to ruminate! That was my samasti sadhana. 10

“I tell you, Madame Q, I became unrecognizable to myself in the best sense! I channeled my sexual energies into the yogas11 and yearning for God. There were no rules against sex—‘the American’ didn’t give a rat’s ass — but I wanted to see what might arise after subtracting — then transmuting — the predatory obsessions of the flesh. I hadn’t anything to lose; in a word, I’d already fucked myself to death. The game had gotten very old. Nothing to prove anymore on that particular front. It was difficult at first but in time became second nature.

“After four years, I disclosed to him the atrocities I’d committed in my long career… the wanton breaking of spirits, the taking of human life. Twas a high number of murders, my Queen, as you would have guessed. To this day my confession remains the most onerous and courageous of all my acts. I shall never forget the kindness, the elegance of my guru’s response, and that’s all I have to say about it. I’m committed to being honest about everything — at this stage, secrets would be pointless, even harmful — but in this one area, I’m afraid the books are forever closed. I know you’ll understand.

“As the years went by, I had a stunning revelation. My previous life — life before Bombay — suddenly made sense! It presented itself as nothing more than the preparation for a crime, the crime of all crimes: I was in the thick of planning my own murder. My guru said there are many vehicles to take us to where we’re going but human weakness is such that we imagine we’ll know what such a vehicle looks like. And yet more than not, one finds oneself in a car bearing no resemblance to that which was imagined — no power steering, too fast or too slow, uglier or prettier than we had dreamed. ‘The American’ said that if one is very fortunate, the vehicle is pointed in the direction of one’s destination. But that is the exception, not the rule. The Self makes terrible decisions! Its relentless drone of me, me, me can run a man right off the road or advise him to ditch the thing entirely when it doesn’t drive to his expectations. The hegira , he said, took guts of steel —‘All roads most assuredly do not lead to Mecca!’ O, he scared the hell out of us when he talked that way… twas my worst fear to reach the end of the road and realize I had taken a wrong turn in my youth or middle age, and now it was too late.

“And so, my dearest darling, I came to see that it was my destiny to jump ship — like Ben-Hur ! — to leap from one chariot to another — from the Great Guru’s vehicle to that of ‘the American’—nothing short of an audacious cosmic stunt was required to keep me pointed toward the finish line. I was with him seven long years, seven years of such incomprehensible grace and mystery that even now, knowing all that I do, I wonder if I could ever be convinced to trade them away… But at the end of my sojourn, something happened that undid all the splendor, undid everything I’d learned or thought I had, plunging me into suicidal despair. I used to fear my guru would see through me, but such a fear was child’s play beside what happened.