I’ve been reading Ken Wilber for years, starting in 1993 with Grace and Grit, and I at least skimmed the books he wrote between then and the mid aughts – many of them I made a serious study of and found them interesting and thought provoking, and also, at times, very entertaining. Yet I couldn’t help but feel that this master map-maker was at times still confusing the map with the territory. And so I was inspired to write the following about my relationship with Ken 🙂
Ken and I have a tortured relationship. We have trouble discussing the simplest of life’s questions. What are we having for dinner? Can you help me make the bed? Why don’t you love me the way you used to?
Ken is dead silent on all of these subjects. Won’t even dignify them with a response. Am I not good enough? Do I need to work through some things to be on “his level”? On the bigger questions, Ken is quite verbose. Some even might say loquacious. His thoughts about the ontological veracity of Kant could fill volumes. He has even synthesized theoretical explanations for why our relationship isn’t working. Yet these simple questions remain unanswered. Does he even think I exist? If so, where do I fit into his theoretical framework?
I have my own ideas, but he would probably disagree with me. He’s like that. Ken has a counter-argument for every point of view. He is awash in perspectives. He might even say he embodies them. I wish I did. Most of the time, I just wish I knew what the hell he was talking about.
My biggest problem with Ken is that he has a snappy response to any criticism. He can show you six ways from Sunday how you’ve misinterpreted, misread, or just plain been ignorant of the profound wisdom emerging as if by magic from his oversized brain. Oh, sorry, his oversized body-mind.
Ken has loved and lost, he says. Has dedicated himself to the cause of ultimate truth. Why does that mean no kids? Can’t you have ultimate truth and a family too? I mean, think about it, if everyone sought ultimate truth like he does, it would be the end of the human race!
Points like this are lost on Ken. He thinks I’m a pansy. At least I think he thinks so. I’m not sure because he never speaks to me. All of his communication is neatly printed on ever-so-well-organized pages. Or posted on ever-so-fashionable web sites. His personal site is a tribute to, of all people, him. There you will find him mercilessly downsizing others at length. You think he might be compensating for something?
Like many others I know, I seek The Holy Grail, that is, a ringing endorsement from Ken. Kind words by him are posted on numerous well-worn sites about a myriad of topics. Awakened sex, psychedelic art, “integral studies” (whatever the hell that is) and others too numerous to mention. If Ken likes you, you’re in. I’ll bet there’s even a secret handshake.
Ken has stopped returning my phone calls and e-mails. OK, he never returned them. OK, I never sent any. To be honest, Ken doesn’t know I exist. Well, you know what I mean. He doesn’t have any idea who I am or what I care about. Don’t tell him about the “Ken doesn’t know I exist” part. I’ll get some sort of canned response like “you are one of the 10,000 things, and exist on the plane of embodiment. Yet in terms of the “one taste” (another cryptic phrase), there is no existence. Time and space do not exist. It is at the intersection of the dual and the non-dual that the infinite mystery beckons us forth”. I mean, What the fuck is that?
I do the dishes; does Ken help? No, he’s busy “stabilizing the spiral”. I make a shopping list and head out to Trader Joe’s; does Ken tag along? No, he’s busy with something called “sahaj samadi”. The least he could do is speak English. I plan a weekend in the country, but Ken prefers to spend his weekends in the causal realm. How do you get there? Are there any decent restaurants?
He’s constantly talking about his friends and the emerging noosphere. Is that the ball they drop at New Years? Or is it the layer of air between the missing ozone and outer space? Knowing Ken, it’s probably beyond my comprehension.
Ken is obsessed with assigning everything a color. He says my parents are green, George Bush is blue, and our upstairs neighbor is purple. Sometimes he assigns strange properties to colors, like when he says that “the blue states are orange going to green”. Sometimes I play along and say something like “Liberace was mauve going to taupe”. Ken just ignores me.
I’m beginning to get the impression that our relationship is only tortured on my side. He’s doing things the exact same way as when we met. That was fifteen years ago. In fact, I don’t think my existence has impacted him at all. If you asked him he’d probably say something like “individual consciousness is only interesting inasmuch as it directly relates to the whole”. Seriously, he uses “inasmuch” in his sentences.
Even though I respect Ken for his towering intellect, I can’t help but notice his shortcomings. For one thing, I never see him. He would say that seer and the seen are one, so obviously I have a big problem. He says we are all in one big conversation about the totality of consciousness, yet my participation goes unnoticed. I don’t seem to be getting through to him.
I’m tired of this one-sided relationship. Whenever I bring it up, I can just hear his reaction: “Narcissism is the green gamma-trap”. Does this sound like intimacy to you? So anyway, I’ve been cruising the web for new love interests. I found this guy who runs a site called “BlueTruth”. He seems to really like sex and teaching people how to do it until their chakras are sore. Alas, a few pages into his site I see that Ken has already had his way with the BlueTruth guy. There’s a quote from Ken calling BlueDude “such a wise one”. Does anyone else see the double-entendre?
I also found this one called “Waking Down to Mutuality”. They have a guru who says that everyone is a teacher and it’s a community of teachers who are also learners. Except that he is a slightly better teacher than the rest, and this whole thing is his idea. Anyone else smell an obvious contradiction? He should call it “Dumbing Down to Mediocrity”.
It got me thinking though, maybe I should look for something more simple, where all you have to do is smile and be nice and everything is groovy. I found a couple of places like that, but it looks like Richard Gere has gotten there first. No way am I gonna be Mr. Richard Gere rebound!
So, I guess it’s back to the existential bachelor life. Cruising the tantric sex aisle at Powells, doing asanas in conspicuous places, going to Scientology meetings. Maybe Tom Cruise will be my next big thing!
-Albee Kara, 2008