One of Bayo's main messages is to "embrace the darkness," to embrace the unknowing, to be willing to lose your way. The treasure sometimes can be found only when we stumble. Therefore, he cannot tell us "what to do." Yet he posed us with a question that is potent nonetheless: How can we find each other?
Bayo spoke of the Igbo libation ceremony, which gathers the community in the face of obstacles, of uncertainty, or perhaps a communal challenge or desire, and they pour their wanting or their helplessness or their grief into the earth. It is very similar to our earlier guest Lissa Rankin's teaching of surrendering your desire to the universe. You pour it forth, letting it go at the same time as you put it into more capable hands (perhaps, for the Igbo, it is the ancestors'). The difference with the Igbo -- and as far as I know, most traditional peoples -- is that this is done in community. It is not the separate self with her journal, at her altar in her private home, silently making offerings in meditation, in private prayer.
Bayo's question was posed in this context. How can we find each other, so that we can be in unknowing together, in grief, in helplessness? How can we be there for each other when we stumble? How can we be there to pick up the treasures found thereby? From what I have seen, no one can abide in a "new story" alone. Thich Nhat Hanh says, "The next Buddha will be a sangha." Enlightenment is a group project.
So, my friends, how do we find each other? I pose this question not to solicit answers. As Bayo and I both like to emphasize, the rush to answers is part of the problem. Even the view of life as a series of problems to be solved is part of the problem. No, I pose this question as a magnet for stories, for visions, for hope or despair. The question stirs the pot, mixing the flavors and freeing the aromas that might beckon an answer beyond answers. As Bayo says, "The unthinkable is calling us."
What does this question stir in you? How do we find each other?