Spiritual Enlightenment Stories and Tools – Spirit Path Resources
The Teacher – A Parable of Enlightenment Maybe
There once was a teacher of great renown.
Though no written word existed, to proclaim the teacher’s greatness, and though this teacher lived in a very
isolated place, still there were students who found their way to the teacher’s feet.
No one knew the gender of the teacher.
One student might see him as male, while another would be certain she was female. Nor could one tell the race
of the teacher. One student would say white, another black, another red, another yellow. The only thing everyone
agreed upon was that the teacher was of the highest level of enlightenment. So many came.
He Who Sought The Way
Imagine a sweltering summer day. The air is humid and thick, full of myriad insect life. The wind, when it
blows, is hot on the skin. On such a day, the teacher might take refuge under a shade tree and recline, with
eyes closed but mind awake. It was on such a day that a new student came and sat at the Teacher’s feet. Patiently,
and then impatiently, the student waited for the teacher to open his eyes (for he appeared as a male, in
the dress of a monk, to this particular student). Finally, the teacher opened his eyes and addressed the
student with a look which initiated response though no words were spoken.
The student said “Oh, great teacher, I humbly come to you because I desire enlightenment. I know that,
if only I knew the proper way, I could reach understanding about things I cannot now fathom. I need to know
the ancient ways. It is training that I need. I Need to know the ways of those who came before, as they were
so much wiser than I. Please teach me what I should do to expand my awareness. I will do anything you say.”
The teacher smiled. Beginning that day, the teacher set about assigning tasks to the student. There were special
ways to breathe, certain prayers to make, specific times to meditate without moving, and so on. There were
chants, incantations, affirmations. The student learned the ways of the Native-American, Buddhists and Christians.
He learned Celtic traditions and the way of the Goddess, as well as being schooled in the way of the Qabalah,
and many other ancient paths of enlightenment.
This enlightenment training went on for many years until one day the student came to sit at the feet of the
teacher with a sad countenance. “Teacher,” the student proclaimed, “I have faithfully performed
every task you have assigned me, to the very best of my ability and I cannot see that any of it has enlightened
me at all. Except for being calm when I do the tasks, sometimes, I feel I am the same as I was when first
I came to you. I also have learned all the ancient ways, and have understanding of them; yet, I feel as though
it is not enough.”
The teacher smiled, “you asked me to give things do it has been done.”
“Yes,” the student replied, frustrated “but I meant things that would lead to enlightenment.” “And
has there been no enlightenment?” calmly asked the teacher. “Have you learned nothing?”
“I’ve learned that there is really no point to these silly exercises, is all I can see and that the knowledge
of all those ways has not really changed me at all,” muttered the student.
“Just so” said the teacher rising to go. “The way is not outside.”
She Who Would Vanquish Fear
Imagine a day when Earth is pulling her energy down into her core. The leaves have wasted and dropped from
the trees. The air is chill and crisp to the nose. On such a day, the teacher might go for a brisk walk,
bundled head to foot. In just such a manner, the teacher returned home to find a new student, huddled and
waiting. The seeker had been there for some time, as her nose was bright red from the cold, and she was chilled
to the point of constant shivering.
As the teacher sat before her, the student looked up and into the eyes of Hecate, the Crone, for this is how
the teacher appeared to her. The seeker was in fear, but she was always in fear so it was only one more thing
to frighten her. She waited, patient in spite of the cold, as the teacher called for hot tea (which was not
shared) and made herself comfortable.
When the teacher finally invited speech, with only a forceful look, the trembling student began,”Oh,
great teacher, I come to you for I know that it is fear which rules my life. I fight and fight,yet it each
time overtakes my senses. I fear death, I fear life, I fear success, I fear failure, I fear cold, I fear
hot, I fear pain, I fear loss, and I fear love. Oh, great one,I know that you can teach me to conquer my
fears. I am ready to face them, all of them. Please help me to do this.”
The teacher smiled, but it was a sad smile, for she had no taste for the request put before her. Still, in
the manner of her position, she would honor the request so desperately made.
Beginning that day, the teacher bridged The Void of Great Mystery and brought the student face to face with
many fears. There were nights spent alone, in the cold, with no light. There were demons and Satanic presences
to be battled, and other world forces to be fought. The woman felt near to death on several occasions but
bravely fought through each grueling test of faith.
These journeys into fear continued for many years. until one day, weakened and very sad of mind, the woman
lamented “Oh, great one, I am so very disheartened. I have conquered so many fears. How can there still
be others? When will it ever end?”
The teacher looked with compassion on the soul-tired woman and said “You have conquered nothing.”
The woman leapt from the ground in passionate anger and cried out “What do you mean, I’ve conquered nothing?
I have come near to losing my life and my mind more than once during the time I have been here. I have fought
the demons of hell.”
The teacher, remaining completely calm, said “Just so.” and rose to go. Over her shoulder as she
was leaving, the teacher said “Fear is not outside.”
He of The Loveless Heart
Imagine a day when the first breath of spring is blown across the Earth. See the buds just bursting into blossom,
plants pushing through the soil, tiny leaves dancing on the trees. On such a day, the teacher might bask
in the glorious sunshine, so delightful and fresh after the winter’s cold. It was just such a day when a
new student came to the teacher.
This seeker did not see the blossoms, or feel the sweet kiss of the spring breeze. This student sat in deep
thought, and it appeared as if a dark cloud surrounded him. There was a knowing in the teacher that this
one was full of aloneness and separation.
It was difficult to leave the sweet openness of the weather, to gaze into that black hole of isolation but
the teacher utilized discipline and turned toward the student,extending the special look which gave permission
to speak. So immersed in his own sorrow was the student that he did not even see the teacher, or feel the
powerful glance of attention. For the first time in many years, the teacher initiated speech with a student
and asked “Why have you come?”
The student jumped, startled, and looked with anger upon the hope of his salvation. He saw the teacher before
him, as a guru of the Eastern Ways. “I don’t know why I’ve come. It probably is just another blind alley.
There is no real love in the world. I should just accept it and stop looking for it. I loved my father and
he beat me. I loved my mother and she died when I was very young. I gave my love to a woman and she defiled
the gift with another man. I love my craft, but it has failed to provide me with a living. It must be that
true love does not exist.”
The teacher rose, saying “as you wish” and turned to go.
“No, wait” cried the man. “I’ve come all this way. I must try once more to realize love for
myself. If I don’t find it this time, I plan to take my own life for I cannot bear to go on without love.
Please help me to know real love – help me to find God’s love, for human love has utterly failed me.”
The teacher turned, but remained standing some distance apart. “The thing you must do first is to completely,
without reservation, limitation, or condition, love me.”
The man looked in disbelief and stammered “Love you? I only just met you. I don’t even love myself, and
you want me to love you? I loved the Reverend of my church and found out later that he was an alcoholic and
abused young men. Love you? There must be some other way.”
The teacher assured the man that this was the only way to achieve the thing he sought. After a heavy silence,
the man reluctantly agreed and asked how to begin the seemingly impossible process of loving the teacher.
Beginning that day, the teacher required much of the student. Each day, the man was required to prepare three
meals for the teacher, to wash the teacher’s clothes, clean the teacher’s house, and rub the teacher’s feet
with oil. He was given special poems to recite, which told of the beauty and grace of the teacher. He was
required to recite these poems aloud to the teacher, on many occasions. He was also required to sit at the
teacher’s feet for hours at a time, gazing only at the teacher’s face and thinking only of love.
All this was very hard for the student, but he was determined to give the best effort he could so he would
consistently pull his attention away from any other thought save the thought of love for his teacher.
Time passed, and the student began to feel something stir in his heart. He was suddenly able to see a kind
of glow around the teacher, and to feel that glow emanate out toward him as he obediently gazed on the teacher
and inwardly spoke the prayers of love he had been taught to repeat. The teacher began to come to him in
his dreams, sharing great wisdom and truth. Each day, the student began to look more and more forward to
his silent, peaceful time at the feet of the teacher. It was no longer a trial but a time of great peace
Then came the day when the student realized that he truly did love the teacher. He felt his heart burst open
with a kind of singing. He felt as if he were walking on air. He felt joyous, full of a kind of wondrous
peace, and could hardly wait to tell his teacher that he finally knew him as “Beloved.” He was
so excited that, halfway to the daily meeting place, he began to run but, to his disappointment, the teacher
was not there when he arrived. As the student looked around, anticipating the arrival of his beloved teacher,
one of the servants brought the news that the teacher had fallen ill during the night and had left his body.
The student was insane with grief. He fell to the ground and rolled, wailing in pain and loss. Just beyond
the pain came a fierce and raging anger, for the student felt he had been betrayed by love and betrayed by
He ran to the shade tree where the teacher had rested on the first day, and broke off a branch of the tree.
The branch made a jagged point where he had torn it loose, and with full conviction, the student raised the
wooden dagger upward, readying himself to plunge it into his own heart. Just as he began the downward stroke,
his hand was stayed by an unseen force and he heard the voice of his teacher say “Love is not outside.”
And so it was that the student stood, motionless, forgetting to breathe as he awaited the next words of his
beloved teacher. The student stood, unaware that his hand was still uplifted and holding the jagged tree
branch. First, there was elation at the understanding that his teacher was not truly gone from him, but only
on some unseen plane of existence. It was a confirmation that there was something beyond the world which
had only brought the student pain. After a time of waiting, there was confusion for no other words followed.
Finally, there came the return of the terrible anguish, as the student realized there would be no other words.
The ache in his arms reminded him that he still held the branch aloft, the weapon which would take him from
this world and, hopefully, into the realm of his teacher. Yet, he had no strength remaining with which to
wield the fatal blow.
He stared at the branch, suddenly consumed with a great rage. With all his force he threw it from him as an
uncontrollable and hideous scream erupted from the bowels of his body, surging to his throat and assaulting
the very air with it’s venom on eruption into sound. He pulled at his hair, screaming and speaking incoherent
words, stomping back and forth as a madman. At the peak of his rage, he screamed out to the universe “God,
I hate you. With all I am, I hate you. I have done everything I know how to do, just to find you and still
you hide from me. I despise you. Where are you? Where are you? Can you just reach down one finger and press
on my cheek? Can you spare one holy breath on across my palm? Can you give me just one sign that you exist?” On
and on, the student ranted and raved, screaming until his throat was hoarse and the voice completely spent.
At a point of physical exhaustion, he finally dropped to the ground and began to sob. The tears were as terrible
as the rage, and more helpless. Finally, as he had no more strength for any other expression, the student
became still and quiet. Motionless, the student lay, feeling his very will to live drain from him until there
remained within him only a vast emptiness, cold and dark. Somehow, the dark was comforting. Nothing seemed
to be required within it’s cold embrace. The student felt his body relaxing, felt his thoughts fading, felt
himself to be floating within a void of space, within which every sensation was magnified.
He suddenly became aware of himself as he who sought the way and she who would vanquish fear, as well as many
other people he had been. He saw himself in those lifetimes, as if watching movies on a screen. He became
aware that he had learned many lessons in those other lifetimes and had been learning lessons for many, many
lifetimes. It was a fascinating thing, to watch these videos of other lives and the student momentarily forgot
where he was or what had happened. Perhaps most fascinating was the memory of having been the teacher, and
that more than once.
It was then that he heard the voice. The student felt a jolt of something like electricity go through his
physical body, as this voice called out. The voice seemed to come from deep within the student’s own heart.
The vibration of the words seemed to tingle through every cell. The student felt the rising up of an almost
foreign emotion within him. He felt as he had as a child. He had forgotten that sense of freshness, excitement,
aliveness and innocent joy that once had filled him, as a little boy.
The voice seemed to fill him with a sensation of intense pleasure and feelings of love so overwhelming that
even the great love he had felt for his teacher paled in comparison. He began to laugh, in exact insane measure
to his previous rage, as he felt the sound of the words.The voice said “God is not outside.”
Swirling in an exquisite sense of self/self/no self, the student gave voice to an ancient truth, remembered
once more. He said “I am that which I have been seeking.”
“Just so” echoed the voice of the teacher, speaking for the last time.
Excerpted from Moon Lodge Visions: An Acceleration Handbook