Francis Bennett: I Am That I Am.

I have a body, but I am not that body.

Who am I?

One of the fruits of the discipline of meditation I have practiced since my young adult life has been a clear and distinct awareness of this I, as a separate level of existence from all else in my world.

Though at an ego level am familiar with this I, comfortable with this I, reassured by the presence of this I, what Ego has never done is become conscious of the many layers and qualities this I possesses.

David Ford, my friend, neighbor and fellow parishioner at our little mountain church, has introduced me to the work of Francis Bennett.

Bennett, a Roman Catholic on a lifetime journey of discovery that has taken him in and out of a plethora of spiritual traditions, has prepared a memoir of his learnings about the I in him. Appropriately enough, the tile of his book is I Am That I Am.

 

Over and again in reading Bennett's journal I recognized the similarity of his experience with my own, the familiar descriptions of experiences I have had but never verbalized. Throughout my life journey this recognition has been a signal to me that I am in the presence of something genuine, eternal and universal.

And yet in reading these pages I've found myself alternating between enjoyment and impatience. I particularly appreciate the stories he tells, recounting in first person what his actual experience was. Less valuable are his attempts at generalizing, theorizing, interpreting, comparing. When he comes to exploring parallels between his experiences and the words in the New Testament about the supposed teachings of Jesus, he loses me. My present understanding of the socio-political history of these writings prevents me from considering them an authority on much of anything, and it feels like a waste of energy to look for meanings. They had their purposes in history, and that's all I'll say about it here.

In reading Bro Bennett's writings I also grow impatient with the limitations of human language, and his attempts to use it, in explicating this most mysterious of experiences. Analysis falls short, feels false. This is not a statement about the author. It's a comment on the ethereal, and on the smallness of the human mind and the feeble results of filtering this level of reality through such a clearly restricted and restrained transmission channel.

This is one piece of the puzzle, the vast elephant. Bro Bennett is one blind person, describing as best he can a vast, infinite experience.

I begin this exploration from the ground of my own experience. I know who this I is. I want to learn Who this I is.

Considering these writings in light of Hesse's Siddhartha and his life brings me one step closer to wholeness. 

Adding in the experience of Beauty, and the possibility of consciously allowing myself to explore that element of this world, I may be able to continue my journey.