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The Fifth-Peak

By Kevin Maher, M.D.

Arnold Toynbee said that the most significant event of the twentieth century would be the advent of Buddhism in the West. He never elaborated on how he thought it might arrive.

Robert Thurman gave a series of lectures at CIIS in 1995. These lectures presented a sweeping historical perspective on Buddhism. Thurman based his lectures on other lectures, which he had heard twenty years before given by a Japanese Buddhist scholar. He described how the scholar gave a historical account of Buddhism and its four major historical high points or peaks.

These four peaks were: the initial spread of Buddhism that occurred through the direct teachings of the Buddha and his immediate disciples; the Mahayana teachings which developed out of the work of Nagarjuna; the development in India of Tantric Buddhism; and the blossoming of Tibetan and Japanese Buddhism. Thurman hinted that everyone was asleep during the Japanese scholar’s lecture including the lecturer himself. Then the scholar said that the fifth peak of Buddhism had not occurred yet and might not occur at all; but if it were to occur, the fifth peak of Buddhism would occur in the United States. Everybody including the scholar, on hearing this amazing concept, woke up.

It would be very difficult to fall asleep during one of Robert Thurman’s lectures. He combines the rare qualities of a refined and captivating scholarly speaker with the knee-slapping, side-splitting, gut-busting, rim-shot timing and delivery of great stand-up comedic talent. Thurman is indeed the great stand-up Buddhist of our day. He closed his lecture by explaining his idea of Fifth-Peak Buddhism in the United States as Buddhism that occurs as a spontaneous revelation and unfolding of the Dharma outside of any pre-existent Buddhist stream or school. In Thurman’s view Fifth-Peak Buddhism will not even recognize itself as Buddhism.

Thurman would probably be surprised to find that his concept of Fifth-Peak Buddhism echoes and supports ideas about Buddhism in the West presented in a lecture given by Rudolf Steiner in Berlin in 1911. Steiner stated, “…neither will Buddhism — to the extent to which it can enrich Western culture — appear in its old form. It will appear in an altered form…” Established Buddhism, according to Thurman, will enter into the American ethos and take its place along side the established churches on Main Street. Fifth-Peak Buddhism will arise, unrecognized and unrecognizing of itself, to take its place in the American heart of those who will be the unknowing instruments of its unfolding. Then, from Arnold Toynbee’s perspective, the twentieth century’s most significant event will have the possibility of taking place.

Yet how could Toynbee be so naïve or esoteric as to claim such a thing? How could something as gentle as the heart’s turning on a Dharma outshine in its significance the two World Wars or the dropping of the atomic bombs? What was the bomb anyway, other than the same base impulse as a punch in the face at a schoolyard fight or barroom brawl augmented by the pyrotechnic intellectual brilliance of scientists? History has been the repetition of the sad expression of that unimaginative and unoriginal impulse to lash out at and harm the other. How significant historically and evolutionarily would be the impulse to still the hand before it found expression in the punch, the blade, the bullet, or the button that drops the bomb?

In this century of Dachau and Hiroshima and the Cold-War globalization of hatred, amid all the loud explosive externalized cataclysms of our violent age, a subtle unheard cataclysm of the heart might yet occur. The brightness of its compassion might outshine the latent glow in the potential supernova of stored hatred held in the arsenals of our nuclear stockpiles. Could the Buddha’s finger touch the earth again in our century to shake the earth and shatter the soul more than a thousand Hiroshimas and Dachaus ever could? In Robert Thurman’s view, Fifth-Peak Buddhism will be the spontaneous blossoming of the Dharma in America out of an untold emptiness that will speak itself in an until-now-unspoken American newness, which according to Arnold Toynbee might change us all forever.

Byron Katie had no words for what was experienced in her after a long descending spiral of overeating and alcoholism which proved that a genuine skid row, ain’t-no-low-lower-than-this-low, five-star AA rock-bottom experience could be had in the dull suburban hinterlands of America. To most who hear her story, the experience that overcame her seems to be one of profound enlightenment. A cockroach crawled over her foot while she was in the attic of a halfway house, and Katie suddenly, inexplicably, and irreversibly woke up.

The Tibetans were aware that such spontaneous awakenings could happen, as Alexandra David-Neel describes in her book The Secret Oral Teachings of Tibetan Buddhist Sects: “The greatest saint, even if he has sacrificed a thousand times all that he has held most dear, even his life…., remains a prisoner of samsara if he has not understood that all that is a childish game, empty of reality, a useless phantasmagoria of shadows which his own mind projects on the infinite screen of the Void.

“On the direct road this understanding is attained without any preparation. The climber has not hesitated to lean over the abyss on which the path borders, he has not hesitated to descend into it so as to inspect the depths…, and then, suddenly, one day as a result of something apparently without any importance: the color of a flower, the form of a branch of a tree, a cloud, a bird’s song, the yapping of a jackal… or even a simple pebble against which he struck his foot in passing,… transcendent insight is born.”

The Tibetans knew this could happen, but what they knew was that it could happen to Tibetans; nobody ever knew that it could happen to a woman from Barstow, California, USA, whose cultural ethos bathed her in the morphic resonance of Barbie dolls and menopause and not that of arhats and nirvana. The context in which Katie’s enlightenment occurred could not have been further from that in which the Buddha’s enlightenment occurred. It is appropriate that Katie, from the confused rock bottom of fear and confusion, out of a spiritual nadir should undergo, unwanted and unwilled, a reversal of this experience into its opposite: a profound spiritual awakening. How could this event happen to someone who seemed even unaware of its possibility? How could it happen to someone who had no formal preparation or tutelage? Katie was one of the endless multitude of human sufferers whom the king was trying to keep his son, Prince Siddhartha, from seeing; in fact she was even too much for her fellow inmates in the halfway house, who preferred that she be locked away in the attic. Katie’s story could not be more dissimilar than the Buddha’s. Yet, to quote Hans Wolfgang Schumann: “The honorary title ‘Buddha’ is reserved for those who realize salvation through their own insight, that is, without tuition.”

Steeped in the very suffering which Siddhartha witnessed, although did not undergo, and which provided the impetus for his quest, Katie experienced spontaneous release. She noticed the tendencies of the mind toward judgment and belief and that this was the way back to suffering. The reversal of these judgments was the way of continuous release. The Work revealed itself to Katie as four questions and turnarounds, and this became the skillful means of sustaining release from suffering. The Work is that in which refuge may be taken by all who notice they are suffering; The Work is Byron Katie’s version of the Dharma. The Work is what Katie offers to others who seek a way out of suffering. Again H.W. Schumann: “A Buddha who keeps his knowledge to himself is called in the Pali texts a ‘Private (pacceka) Buddha’; one who expounds the Dharma to others is a ‘Perfect (sammasam) Buddha.”

Katie has never proclaimed herself a Perfect Buddha or even an enlightened person. If she was ever told by any one that she was a Perfect Buddha or enlightened person, she would more than likely suggest that the person turn it around and know him- or herself.* Before her realization Katie had no contact with Buddhists or Buddhist teachings. What is offered out of her enlightenment is an elegantly simple analysis of and skillful means out of suffering presented in a new American voice.

It was a strange but amusing encounter when Katie met well-tutored Buddhists of the West Coast. Katie was in the full bloom of her realization without a traditional vocabulary of realization. The Buddhists of California had an extensive vocabulary. Some of them saw in Katie the reversal of their misfortunes. Katie would say, “Some of my friends try to label this as enlightenment.” Four questions and a turnaround were easily accepted by many who had been dealing for years with the Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Path; it seemed easy to them because they had three less things to worry about.

The Buddha’s last advice to the aspiring arhats was: “…be islands unto yourselves, a refuge unto yourselves; take the teaching as island, the teaching as refuge…Now, monks I exhort you:… exert yourselves with diligence!” The teaching and not the teacher is the supreme authority in Buddhism. The same could be said of The Work and Byron Katie. In fact The Work seems to have a built-in mechanism that would not allow for a teacher or guru to be seen as a supreme authority. The Work would invite every projection of guru onto another to be investigated (four questions), turned around, and brought back to the source of the projection. This undo-it-yourself American work ethic resonates with Hinayana assertions that liberation is to be achieved by one’s own efforts. Many have witnessed Katie breaking a large group into smaller groups so that each can do The Work. When Katie calls for the small groups to dissolve into the original large group, she is often unheard or ignored because people are diligently doing The Work. The teacher is run over by the Vehicle being driven by the students, and it’s an American model of the 2000’s.

The motivation for doing The Work is suffering. Katie says, “If you think you’re suffering, do The Work.” In this way the experience of suffering supplies the impulse for doing The Work as well as the impulse behind all of Buddhist thinking and practice. Birth was thought by the Buddha to be a cause of suffering. Katie’s notion of birth is that thoughts are taken personally as truth and identified with, thus giving birth to other thoughts which if believed in give us incarnation after incarnation daily. Getting attached to a belief is reincarnation.

From the perspective of The Work, until it stops happening, we look forward to that which we resist until the resistance disappears. We look forward even to that core samsaric sense of feeling endlessly stuck in a life of suffering. We rest in the prison of infinity giving ourselves over to the trapped forever contraction of the ego, which will never be free. We cringe at the mundane bad taste of who we are like a morning stench on our bodies and breath and souls. We try to wash it away and hide it from others and deny it in ourselves, but when we wake up the next morning there it is again. Samsara is such a petty and personal thing like a bad taste in our mouths in the morning: it’s who we think we really are and must hide from others.

Samsara from the perspective of The Work of Byron Katie is getting attached to, or as Katie would say “velcroed to,” a belief or judgment. Judgments reveal who we think we are in relation to others: “I’m better than her and I must maintain it.” Or “I’m less than him and I must overcome this.” In The Work, all judgments are directed outward. The Work gives us permission to be in the judgments fully, to give them birth. Then the judgments are investigated and turned around so that we are released from birth almost simultaneously. We first implode into the contracted heart of judgment so that we experience it like death expanding infinitely into freedom in our hearts. In this way Katie’s Work both shatters and consoles.** The shattering energy of Kali transmutes itself into the compassionate radiance of Kwan-yin. Through The Work the face of Kali changes spontaneously into the face of Kwan-yin. The Work provides a channel for aspiring American arhats of the late twentieth century to focus their apparent efforts and diligence in the service of their own liberation.

Katie gives us the technology for undoing our personal suffering. We are encouraged to own the selfishness of doing The Work, which accepts the Mahayana/bodhisattva criticism of the Hinayana/arhat way: “one selfishly desires the selfless and desireless state” or (to restate it in vulgar yet modern terms) “you’re trying to undo your ego in order to save your ass.” There is no criticism that needs to be deflected. The Work lets us admit that we are inspired by the selfish zeal to rid ourselves of personal suffering. At the same time The Work lets us give up any pretensions of the Bodhisattva ideal and admit to the spiritual one-upmanship at the heart of its inception: “you need saving by someone who is holier than thou for your sake, namely me.” Katie has said, “If you think you’re doing something for someone else, then turn it around and know for yourself.” With no one else out there to save, the Bodhisattva game dissolves.

Of course one is aware of the refined sophistication of Mahayana thought and doctrine, but The Work simplifies and allows such playfulness. The point is also being made that The Work in one of its aspects reverses a historical drift toward complexity and in spirit resonates with Hinayana simplicity. Yet The Work is rich enough to move sympathetically with the Bodhisattva spirit extolled by the Tibetans and other Mahayanists.

Even within the Hinayana tradition, through the Jataka stories, the Bodhisattva values are extolled. Some disciples of the Buddha, discouraged at their lack of spiritual progress, went to him to voice their concerns about how they were as yet unable to attain his level of freedom. He then proceeded to tell them of his past lives, which served to earn him his life in which liberation was attained. The stories of successive lives, all 550 of them, serve to illustrate how the Bodhisattva displayed the perfect generosity by offering his life repeatedly in acts of unusual altruism which would lead him to incarnate as Gautama. The Work allows us to live out our own Jatakas, 550 or more of them daily, as we reincarnate in our judgments and then through The Work get to offer our lives like the Bodhisattva becoming the Buddha. In this way, The Work turns our judgments into Jataka stories.

A Tibetan Buddhist monk in describing the Bodhisattva Ideal once explained: “It is not hard for us to imagine someone so possessed by rage that he could murder; it is not even difficult to imagine one who is so lost in rage that he could murder repeatedly, could kill over and over again. Why should it be difficult to imagine one who is so possessed by compassion that he could offer his life to another? Then imagine one who is so lost in this compassion that he can offer his life over and over again, lifetime after lifetime. This is what is meant by Bodhisattva.” The Work provides the opportunity to offer one’s life over and over again. The Bodhisattva Ideal through The Work becomes real in the smallest details of our lives as we are given a methodology of Bodhisattvahood. We are allowed to experience the rage and its reversal into compassion, so that what is manifest is raging compassion.

Some Buddhist and particularly Zen vocabulary is that of a warrior class turning its warlike impulses back on itself in an attempt to overcome the contracted egocentric self. Robert Thurman speaks of the unique occurrence in Tibetan culture where the Tibetan warrior society, which was much like that of the Mongols, spontaneously changed its militarism into monasticism. The unilateral demilitarization in the seventeenth century of the Tibetan nation which turned soldiers into monks and armed military camps into monasteries was a unique and unparalleled historical event. The Work points us, not by dictate of a warlord turned ruling lama, to a demilitarization of the individual self, to the democratic possibility of each one shifting by a one-man-one-vote process so that each becomes the hundredth monkey of his own compassion in a man-on-the-street self-ordained and -inflicted secular monasticism. We are invited not to sheath our swords or drop our lances, but to step out of ignorance by simply asking ourselves four questions and to turn the finger that we point at the other back on ourselves. We give the finger as a reaction to being victims in the modern sit-coms of our own samsaras. The finger which we give to the other passing on the highway in the course of our pathetic and unheroic daily hatreds, this obscene gesture turned back on itself through The Work, then becomes the finger pointing to the moon, the mudra of our own sanctification.

In this way The Work accesses wisdom through confusion, nirvana through samsara, enlightenment through the neurosis that obscures it. On the surface the monastic simplicity of The Work shines, but with a purity arising from the depths of apocalyptic Tantrayana-like insight that nondualism includes everything: that the holiest perfections are expressed by the barking dog and the begging hand and that the highest worship is conducted unawares by what transpires on the altar of the filthy street. The Work takes us to the insight that this is as good as it gets. From one perspective—the belief that things should be other than they are—this can be a disturbing insight. The Work reveals the perfection of the given and is a vehicle for embracing what is. Transcendent nondualist insight becomes, through The Work, grounded in common sense. Katie often says: “How do I know that this is the way it’s supposed to be? Because this is the way it is!”

The Work could be seen from a Buddhist perspective as the pursuit of samsara in the service of nirvana. The Work provides a space for that contracted ego-self to express itself in its unrepentant song. By giving voice to that which we see as the very source of our separateness and suffering, we hear in the sweet lament of each pained and contracted ego different melodies but one voice. A sense of expansive oneness is often unsuccessfully sought on spiritual paths by the suppression of vice in the pursuit of virtue, which we hope to use as a spring board for a final quantum leap into the absolute. This ever-opening freedom is arrived at in The Work by seeing each separated ego lost in the extremes of the very vices which we think of as the source of our separation, the derogatory pettinesses of lust, anger, greed and attachment. The deeper the entrance into samsara, the more profound the release in the turnaround. The mystical paradoxical intention in The Work allows us to get stuck in the freedom of giving the ego voice and hearing in each separated ego the one voice, which is singing us all.

The turnarounds of The Work show us that all the voices that we hear express the sweetest melody onto which we attach a meaning and that all suffering is only a meaning that we attach to this melody. This insight is the same as that which H.W. Schumann attributes to the Yogacara school of Mahayana, that “all suffering is only ideated suffering, the termination of which lies within…” “Yogacara holds that Samsara and Nirvana are in essence identical. Nirvana is reached by way of reversal (paravritti) by turning away from the ideated world and individuation and by returning to Base consciousness as the Absolute.” The turnarounds of The Work have the same effect, providing release from the notion that an external world, a big overpowering reality outside of us, is the cause of our suffering. To expose the notion of worldly suffering, Katie plays a game called “that’s not God.” Someone looks in a newspaper and finds a shocking story about the world out there and some unimaginable horror which might cause one to say: “I can see that everything is God but not that; that’s not God.” Katie says that she hasn’t found anything yet that isn’t God. The insight is the same at heart, but in its expression is the reversal of the Hindu exclamation: Neti, neti.

The insight that Nirvana and Samsara are the same is also at the heart of the Tantrayana school of Sahajayana. Samsara and Nirvana are said to be “sahaja, twinned… and do not exist side by side but within each other… All diversities are thought-constructions, in reality Dharma is the same as Non-Dharma, for all things are one; everything is Buddha.” Katie moves in that same powerful Tantrayana wisdom that Robert Thurman points to as the third great peak of Buddhism. The traditional spiritual seeker might come saying, “Show me God or help me find Buddha.” Katie’s response might be, “Show me what is not God; find what is not Buddha.”

This wild Tantrayana challenge to find what is not Buddha is the core invitation of The Work. Whereas the Indian Buddhist Third-Peak Tantrayana yogini might have gone to the funeral ghats and the harijans to show that that which is shunned is to be embraced in its pristine sahaja or twinned nature, Katie might get lost in the beauty of a homeless person or of someone dying of cancer or AIDS. She might challenge one to look in the newspaper for a proof of imperfection in the most horrifying story and present the invitation to see that the imperfection and the suffering are only in the meaning that we attach to the story.

Katie’s experience resonates with what Thurman refers to as Third-Peak Tantrayana Buddhism, especially with the Vajrayana sadhana of ideating Transcendent Buddhas or Bodhisattvas. Shumann: “The super-mundane figures of the Vajrayana are not objective realities but ‘accomplishings,’ that is, subjective apparitions of the Absolute ( = Emptiness = vajra = liberation)…. the world which besets man so mercilessly is as much his mental creation as the fellow-beings whom he believes that he ‘perceives.’ It was a small step for the Vajrayana so to regard the Transcendent Buddhas and Bodhisattvas as well as ideations. … For the Westerner, these thoughts are not so easy to follow, as he is accustomed to take as real only that which is objectively provable. He will dismiss as mere fancy a subjectively real being who is visible to its creator only, to the Sadhaka … To the Sadhaka the visualized Transcendent being is no less real than the physician for the patient, and it exercises the same function on a higher level. What difference does it make whether instructions about the way to salvation come from a guru or from a visualized Transcendent Bodhisattva? …The Bodhisattva embodies the Absolute more purely than the human teacher who is still affected by samsaric accidentals …. the Sadhaka and the Transcendent Buddha or Bodhisattva ideated by him do not, of course, face each other as strangers. Knowing that the ‘accomplishing’ of a Transcendent being with all his perfections is his own ideation and hence part of himself, the Sadhaka performs the process of ‘I-making’ or ‘identification’. He experiences the unity with the Buddha so vividly that he adopts that Buddha’s qualities. Thus the identity with the Absolute, which was never really interrupted, again becomes part of the Sadhaka’s vital consciousness.”

Katie didn’t know about gurus or images of Transcendent Bodhisattvas, so she created an old woman who would come to her and take her through all the universes. “She stayed as long as I thought that I needed her. She showed me the secrets of everything, of all mathematics, lights, sounds and numbers. Then I saw that there was just one and that I had to even drop that, so that there was zero, nothing. And then I dropped that, too.”

Buddhism has been described as the religion with the whole in the middle, a fat Buddha with an empty belly. This essentially Buddhist self-deconstructing power is at the heart of The Work. Samsara and Nirvana are identical because their essential nature is emptiness. The world and its objects are insubstantial, yet so is the subject. Just as the ideated Transcendent Bodhisattvas dissolve into the Absolute emptiness, so the world and the ego story thought to be subject dissolve into the emptiness. Katie asks: “What would you be without your story?” From the perspective of The Work, every story is untrue and cannot stand up to inquiry, even if the story happens to be that which you take to be yourself.

The Work and Katie’s experience resonate strongly with Buddhism and its four historical peaks. The Work as embryonic Fifth-Peak Buddhism holds the imprints of Buddhism’s four historical developments. The Work seems to recapitulate these peaks much the same way that ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny. There is the Hinayana self-reliant four noble inquiries aspect of The Work. There is the Mahayana self-inflicted Bodhisattva compassion of The Work and the opportunities that it provides for serial self-immolation. There is the spontaneous jewel-like yogini aspect of Katie and her wild Tatrayana invitation to pursue that which we flee and to embrace that which we shun. There is the democratic demilitarizing aspect of The Work and its potential to create a socially transforming and secular every-man-for-himself monasticism.

The Work then appears as embryonic Fifth-Peak Buddhism floating in the cosmos, like the image at the end of “2001: A Space Odyssey,” ready to take us to the next millennial, historical, and evolutionary step. The Work, like a cosmic RU 40 pill, has the ability to abort this galactic embryo before the image develops any further and before the story takes hold into a new set of beliefs, before we start claiming that it’s better to be an unborn-again Buddhist than it is to be a born-again Christian. This essentially Buddhist quality of self-deconstruction is characteristic of The Work and its four noble inquiries. The process is one of “undoing” beliefs, even if those beliefs seem to be The Work itself; even if they seem to be the one who thinks he or she is doing The Work. You don’t do The Work, The Work undoes you. The Work is definitely not about generating a new belief system or about forming a new religion.

Robert Thurman said the following about Fifth-Peak Buddhism. “I’m talking about a Buddhism that is serving as Buddhism without being Buddhism, which is what the world needs now. So call it Enlightenmentism; call it Wisdomism; call it what you will. It’s not the religion Buddhism … it is the service of helping people unravel their heart knot, which is the only thing that will save this planet … It can only be saved by enough people in a very high intensity unraveling their heart knots. You will not get rid of your heart knot by being religious. I’m sorry; some of my worst friends are religious. They’re fanatics. They’re insensitive … and then people who don’t share their belief system they relegate to hell in the blink of an eye. When the heart is knotted and then attaches itself to some sort of big piece of legitimacy, bigger even than the personal self … that’s when the heart knot becomes license to kill. We’ve seen it in history. Only unraveling the heart knot will save us. The Asian institutions of Buddhism are not going to do this, because they are too focused on being Buddhists.”

What Robert Thurman refers to as “unraveling the heart knot,” Katie refers to as 'doing The Work' or “undoing a belief” or “undoing yourself.” Katie gives The Work to those who are willing to unravel their heart knots. Doing The Work with Katie in a large group is definitely the experience of “enough people in a very high intensity unraveling their heart knots.” Katie’s School for The Work also provides a space in which people gather in order to unravel their heart knots with others.

Robert Thurman’s statements about Nagarjuna and Buddhism hold true for Katie and The Work: “He is not even talking about creating ‘Buddhist centers’ … It does not matter what symbols or ideologies provide the umbrella, as long as the function is liberation and enlightenment. Clearly Nagarjuna, who proclaimed repeatedly that ‘belief systems’ … are sicknesses to be cured by the medicine of emptiness, is not a missionary for any particular ‘belief system,’ even if it is labeled ‘Buddhism.’ Rather, he wants the social space filled with doorways to Nirvana, shrines of liberating Truth, facilities for Teaching and Practice.” A friend of Katie’s had been visiting a teacher who used a metaphor about the process of enlightenment being like peeling away layers of an onion to find a pearl within. The friend was acting vaguely uncomfortable around Katie as if she had done something wrong in seeing the onion teacher. Katie sensed this and said to her, “Honey, you may have some beliefs about seeing only one guru. If you think you need your onion peeled that’s fine with me. As far as I can see, you are the guru you’ve been waiting for.” Whatever form “undoing” takes is fine.

It seems appropriate to close with a quote from Alexandra David-Neel: “As a conclusion to these dissertations, we can say that the worthlessness of doctrines is clearly denounced… The ‘going beyond’, the ‘non-activity,’ are the means for us to attain mental freedom. In truth we have nothing to do; it is a question of undoing, of clearing the ground of our mind, of making it as much as possible clean and void. The Void is, here, for us always a synonym of liberation.”

In a typically turned-around and uniquely American manner, Katie has made “doing The Work” an exquisite avenue to “non-activity” and “undoing.” Arnold Toynbee may have been right.

*Contrast this with the usual account of the Buddha’s first encounter after his enlightenment.

**Shattering without consolation, judgment without turnaround, is, in certain spiritual sects, really “in” these days with macho advaita dudes. Usually these are neurotically nasty guys who have convinced themselves that they are acting as Shiva; they turned in their cowboy suits when they were six because you get laughed at beyond a certain age trying to look tough in a cowboy suit. But you can go around being scary indefinitely, shattering people as Shiva with feigned holiness as an excuse for bad-boy nastiness. The final essence of The Work is its compassionate consolation. Bad boys feigning Shiva are invited to swallow their judgments, to drop the phony Shiva act and smile like Kwan-yin.

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