Grog. Yep, grog. It’s one of those mornings. Saying ‘groggy’ would be too much effort, let alone “I feel groggy.” It’s cold and foggy outside, way too early, and I’m already in the lab. There’s an empty coffee cup in my hands, I’m pretty sure it had something in it, seeing that it’s empty and all, but I don’t want to have to think back 30 seconds and remember. Way too much mental effort. There’s sleep in my eyes and I’m still waiting for the alleged coffee to start coursing through my veins and jumpstart my brain.
Yep, it must’ve been coffee. I have to pee.
I trudge down the long hall to the bathroom. I think I pass some people or animals or something along the way. Sleep is close now. I can feel it calling me. Maybe I could just lay down here in the hall and close my eyes for a few moments. My bladder protests, sigh, so I continue.
I don’t notice the smell right away, not a bad smell, a clean smell. That would be a nice change from the usual bathroom bouquet if I was paying attention and not blindly walking into the stall. I do, however, suddenly notice the toilet bowl. The water is bright blue and makes me pause… “Huh, someone must have cleaned the toilets. Either that or a smurf just peed in here and didn’t bother flushing.”
I internally smile (my body’s lethargy prevents the smile from manifesting physically, but it’s on the inside and that’s what counts) and try to dismiss the thought. I politely brush it aside, but it just comes right back.
“Someone must have just cleaned the toilets this morning or a smurf peed before you came in.”
Why is my mind engaging me on this?
Okay, mind, yes, I suppose one of those choices is true, and I’m pretty sure someone just cleaned the bathroom. I smell bathroom cleaner.
“True, true. That could be the smell of cleaner, but then again, that ammonia smell could be the smell of smurf urine. In fact, I would be surprised if smurf urine didn’t smell like that.”
I thought acknowledging him would make him go away, but my mind is oddly latched on to this idea. He’s like a little puppy that wants to play fetch. I’m trying to be sleepy but he’s sitting there with a ball in his mouth, tail wagging at about 10 Hz, looking at me with those big brown puppy eyes. Aww! How can I say no to that?!
Okay, I’ll play. Smurf urine probably would have some kind of ammonia smell to it, most urine does, so yes, it’s entirely possible that a smurf peed in here immediately before me. But there’s the whole ‘smurfs are imaginary, made-up cartoon creations’ point. I think the cleaning lady was in here recently. End of story.
“But you don’t actually know that they’re made up. They could be real. You’ve just never seen one. I maintain my position. Someone either just cleaned the toilets or a smurf has been here bright and early having a smurfly pee.”
This is ridiculous. I don’t know why you’re insisting on this smurf thing, and I don’t know why I’m arguing with you. This is all highly unlikely and kind of weird. It was obviously the cleaning lady. Smurfs are not real.
“Just because you’ve never seen one? Just because no one believes in them? How about this… GOD.”
What the f***?! He’s playing the God-card? That’s my card, little bastard… He knows me too well. I again try to brush these thoughts away, it’s way too early for this, but he just won’t let this rest.
“Well?”
Fine, fine, I concede. I cannot disprove the existence of smurfs. Both possibilities, however improbable one might be, are, in fact, possible. Yes, a smurf may have peed in here just moments ago.
“Is this the scientist speaking?”
What? What’s he getting at?
What? What are you getting at?
“Your tendency is to dismiss possibilities. You only see one thing. The blue water is a fixed object with a fixed story. It holds no mystery for you, you don’t even notice it. You automatically assume the cause was the cleaning lady, and yes, it may have been. Or maybe it was the cleaning man. Or our mysterious smurf. Or any number of a million things. Instead of being open to the possibilities, you make up a story, pretend that it’s true, and miss out on the whole experience.”
What experience? What am I missing out on?
“Look again. Get rid of the stories, stop pretending like you know what you’re looking at and really SEE. Look without knowing. Look with all the possibilities. Stop seeing the object and see what’s behind it all.”
I stand there gazing into the toilet bowl. The water is very blue. I’m still half asleep but I feel myself opening up, I feel my mind getting quieter.
Ok, what if it wasn’t the cleaning lady? Get rid of that story. It could have been anything… smurfs, leprechauns, a kid with food coloring, someone with a serious urinary peculiarity, the alchemical distillation of a blue bird, anything. I don’t know what I’m looking at. I’m full of guesses, but when it gets right down to it, I just don’t know. I don’t know the why this water is blue. I don’t know where it came from, and if I turn my back, I don’t know that it will still be blue. I don’t know anything about it.
Ok, I think I’m beginning to see.
“See what happens when you cast off the assumptions? Look again. Really look. What do you see?”
I don’t know. I don’t know the story. It could be anything. It’s a bowl full of toilet water, and it’s blue, and I feel like there should be a story. I like having a story. Stories keep trying to jump on to the experience, I keep wanting to reduce the water to a known quantity, but to really see, I have to keep letting go of the stories. I have to not know. And when I really experience ‘don’t know’, something starts changing. There’s a new seeing. I’m not looking at a known object anymore, it’s too vibrant. I feel like I’m looking at what’s behind the object, what’s making it up. I don’t know that I’ve ever really seen like this before. The water seems almost alive. Like Story can spring up from it. Right now, it’s just potential. It’s creative energy. It could be anything. I want to say it’s beautiful and wonderful and glorious, but something keeps telling me that it’s toilet water.
“But you don’t know. You really don’t know. Your scientific mind doesn’t even want to question. It just assumes it knows everything. All stories. One way, one possibility. There’s no magic in that head. But if you start from ‘don’t know’, you begin to See. Don’t know is the beginning. Then you must see things as they really are. See the soul, the essence, the forces at work in everything, giving rise to everything. Then your soul can talk to that soul, and all things become possible.”
You mean like miracles?
“Exactly. As long as you ‘know’, that water will always be water. But when you don’t know, when you really don’t know, that water can be anything. The toilet water can become toilet wine.”
I don’t think I’d want to drink toilet wine.
“That’s because you’re still trying to know. Your head is still full of assumptions. Stick with ‘don’t know’ for now. Let everything be a big question mark. Let go of all your beliefs and opinions about people, places, things, and ideas. Don’t know. Then you’ll start to see. Then you’ll start to experience. You’re doing it now. How does it feel?”
It’s amazing. Everything feels so… creative and alive. Like I’m tapping into this awesome, dazzling force. Everything has a vibration, a hum to it. I feel like I could resonate with it all.
“And that’s just from not knowing. That’s just the beginning. And it leads to a world you haven’t yet dreamed of.”
Look! The water! It’s turning green!
“The sacred and the profane, sigh, I guess they’re all one. Even this is a beautiful moment. Don’t forget to flush.”
Cooking with sulfur 