(Conversations with Rad Dad)
Q: Every time I ask you a question you give me the same old answer.
RD: You know you’re interrupting my Monday night poker game, right? Just kidding (not). Maybe I give you the same old answer because you ask me the same old questions.
Q: I ask you a different question every time.
RD: They might sound different – a lot of words spew from the human tongue – but you’re always asking from the point of view of a separate self.
Q: So what am I supposed to do?
RD: There you go again.
Q: Seriously. I’m really trying to understand.
RD: Ask me the right question.
Q: You always tell me that the source of I, you, we, me, all things, is unlimited consciousness.
RD: That’s not a question.
Q: That’s true, but I just wanted to say that over the years I’ve come to believe you.
RD: What? Did I hear you correctly? You’ve come to believe me?
RD: Okay, I give up. Beliefs are for amateurs and a dime a dozen. Every belief – no more than a muddled collection of biased, fleeting thoughts – has its opposite and equally absurd counterpart. Simple observation is all that matters – seeing what is. If you don’t know that by now, it’s hopeless. Go and leave me to my poker game. You’re wasting my time and I’m getting blinded out.
Q: Rad Dad, please! Just one more question. I promise it will be a good one.
RD: (Looks at his hole cards – 7 2 off suit – and folds.) Shoot.
Q: Why do I continue to ask the same old questions?
RD: (Wry Smile) Because you come from the same old place – a limited sense of self must ask, by nature, a limited question. Same old same old. But experience shows that the mind can’t go beyond the mind. My old buddy Nisargadatta used to say that all the time. As a side note, besides selling some fine cigars he could play a mean hand of poker.
Q: So you’re saying don’t ask any questions?
RD: Close, but no. I’m saying that if you can find the one who asks the questions I’ll eat my . . . cards.