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Of
whom does the inner
teacher remind us? Perhaps
the outer teacher is a key
to unlock the inner
teacher's door, beyond
which breathes the most
luminous of shadows.
Demanding that the code of
silence be removed, each
synchronistic meeting is
like a knock that echoes
through the Hall of
Records, that hall that
our Antediluvian betters
once built from the skull
of Akasha. "Who is there?"
asks one of the
bird-headed eunuchs who
attend to its every need.
We are usually too busy
talking to respond. And if
we do put aside our
distractions and take a
moment to respond, we will
probably say something
stupid like, "Who is
asking?" With their wide
eyes that have never
ceased to stare, the seers
of the World Maritime
Empire watch the cities
they once dreamed of sink
their roots, the hunger
they once planted grow.
What does the shape of our
longing look like? We will
know it if and when.
This may be one of the key
functions that good
friends perform for each
other. Our first meeting
with such friends can be a
shock, a slap to the face
of our common sense, which
shows us how things can
make sense without having
to make any sense. We are
called to develop talents
that we thought belonged
to others. If our friend
is not for use, not as
such, he/she may serve
ends more mysterious than
we know. We may be called
to summon memories for
which our friend is just
the conduit. We may be
called to lift the spirits
of the damned, to flirt
with the unborn, to break
the back of the
military-industrial-infotainment
complex, to rip the mask
from the zeitgeist. And
then, just as easily, the
magnetic force that
attracts two friends can
later push them apart. We
share a world with them.
One day, their eyes go
suddenly blank. If there
were no parting, we might
never gain the distance
necessary to come to terms
with their influence.
A good teacher is not a
friend, as such. Unlike a
good friend, a good
teacher is never more than
partially accessible, a
moon of which we can only
see the cusp, and yet,
being gone, he/she is
still capable of answering
a question. If the inner
teacher can justly be
called "good," this
goodness may depend on us.
We have only to redefine
the meaning of the term.
We have only to find some
way to invoke this
teacher's presence, in
such a way that our
question can be posed, in
such a way that the absent
can answer, in such a way
that student and teacher
are speaking the same
language. In a strange
land, our lips must form
the words of a song that
we learned in childhood;
this time around, however,
its effect will not be
innocent. This song may
sound like the howling of
a ghost; like the gasping
of a city's population,
buried while alive; like
the banging of a door in
the blood-drenched
beerhall of the gods; like
the whisper of the rivers
of mercury in the tomb of
the first Chin emperor.
Paul Klee, Departure of the Ghost, 1931
Let us posit that the inner teacher is led by another hand, by that
teacher as demanding as he/she is omniscient, whose influence is most
often not seen nor heard but rather felt in the peculiarities of external
circumstance. We use terms like "male" and "female," "right" and "left
." These are practical enough. Terms like "body," however, stump us.
We do not see how "inside" and "outside" are connected. "Do not test
us," we say, "We are tired of being stalked. We would prefer that our
glass houses do not have any windows. What genius planned that a
tornado should be our mode of transport? Our iPhones will live for us."
Of course, Sir or Madam. Your wish is our command. As you like.
Is there any moment at which the teacher behind the teacher is not
present? Yes and No. There are those who say that no good teacher
would throw away his student, that cruelty is not love, that she would
not leave him, cold and naked, with only a few well-worn platitudes to
chew on. How absurd! There is a grammar to such silence, which the
teacher expects the student to remember how to parse.
If the seers of the World Maritime Empire have pulled the waves above
them, we should not assume that they are other than alert. We should
only say that they observe from a great distance. Their wide eyes do
not blink. They breathe neither water nor air. If they do, indeed, watch,
if they even now continue to subject us to surveillance, if there is no
way to escape from the life-patterns that the guard, the inner teacher
may yet serve as our articulate ambassador. To what end and for whose
benefit does he/she intercede? "Kneel," say the bird-headed eunuchs,
and we must. "Yes, obey," says the inner teacher, "then rebel." There
are few actions that will lead in a straight line. Threads can be cut
without warning. Whole cultures can be ripped from their coasts. As
intimate as the breath, as well-positioned as the tongue behind the
teeth, the teacher subtly supports. To the dead student, this type of
support is a mixed blessing. It may not, at first, be of use.
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