A man named Chiao T’ien came to Fu Tze and said, “Honorable Sage, I have but one question to ask you. How can I find a teacher in the Way of Heaven?”

This question angered the ‘t’ao li, who felt that Chiao T’ien had thereby insulted Fu Tze, but the Sage quieted them.

“The owl hunts by night and the dog by day,” he said. “Thus, it is no insult to the moon for the dog to consult it to determine when the sun will rise.”

Turning to Chiao T’ien he said, “Each day you move among many people, and one of them may be the teacher you seek. Among these many, you select only a few for conversation, or they select you, on the basis of your or their objectives for that day.”

“If the man you seek as a teacher is not among those you select, it is because your objectives for that day are not such as to cause you to approach that man. If he is not among those who select you, it is because your objectives for that day are such that he is given no reason to desire to talk with you. And if you select him or he selects you, and yet you do not recognize him as the teacher you seek, that is because your objectives for that day are not those for which you seek that teacher.”

“Therefore, Chiao T’ien, the answer to your question is that you will not find the teacher you seek by seeking for him among other men, but by seeking within yourself for your goal.”

Before exploring the reality of being a spiritual teacher, consider a word to the wise. When Bodhidharma spoke of the “one in a million” individual who attains enlightenment without a master, he was using classic Zen irony. It was never meant literally. To take it as such reveals an arrogance that disqualifies a person from being an authentic student, let alone a teacher or an enlightened soul.

With all due respect, neither you nor I are that “one in a million” exception. If this statement offends or dejects you, my point is proven. Awakening—and choosing to teach the Way—requires far more than the ego persona can ever sustain. It demands something from “the other shore,” and the price paid by the human heart is incredibly dear.

The Cult of Ego
It is not a matter of intellectual knowledge; it possesses its own inherent meaning and lives in uncharacteristic places within us all. To the pedestrian mind, the Way seems non-existent because it makes no conventional sense. When sharing this truth with the masses, a teacher quickly realizes that people are deeply defensive against energies that refuse to flatter the ego.

True spiritual absorption requires immense mental clarity. Yet, the modern Western mind is heavily compromised by personal tragedies, genetics, and a cultural obsession with substances like drugs and alcohol. People can be remarkably street-smart while remaining entirely incapable of comprehending an authentic spiritual path. As the Buddha said of the fool:

Whatever a fool learns,
It only makes him duller.
Knowledge cleaves his head.
For then he wants recognition,
A place before other people,
A place over other people.

Over the years, many students have sat through my discourses and retreats believing they could do a better job than me. They couldn’t truly listen because the truth threatened their ego. They sought to imitate the teachings to win adoration, completely ignorant of how grueling a teacher’s life actually is. There is no glamour; you are constantly dealing with obstinate, contrary people who turn spirituality into an intellectual battle. Ultimately, those who resisted sank back into the quicksand of the collective unconscious, dying while still inside their bodies.

Others arrogantly claim they have “outgrown” the practice, or they flee because the process feels too intrusive. They do not want the teacher to see their secrets—forgetting that a true teacher sees what they are hiding from the start. As recovery groups wisely note, we are only as sick as our secrets.

Insulted by the mirror held up to them, many quit the practice to pursue commercialized Yoga, martial arts, or other Eastern methods that promise a quick path to status. They willingly pay thousands to corporate organizations for empty “certifications” just to feel important, yet they would never offer a fraction of that amount as a genuine donation. They choose to sidestep the authentic, fiery process that liberates the soul to Love.

Many resisted taking Sannyas because their egos feared being labeled as “cult followers.” Yet, they remained fiercely loyal to the real cults: alcoholism, marijuana, and the supreme cult of the ego. They mistook taking Sannyas for blind submission, failing to see that their precious “individuality” was merely inherited genetic conditioning. They approached the path with a hidden agenda, seeking whatever prestige they could extract to mask an inner landscape of guilt, shame, and deep depression.

Tools like authentic Yoga, Tai Chi, and martial arts are excellent for inner transformation, but they can only take a person so far before the ego co-opts them. In the West, martial arts are too frequently used to feed a desperate need for admiration rather than what they were designed for: the cultivation of loving energy. In any true discipline, we have no opponent but ourselves.

Buddha was not a yoga master. Jesus was not a kung fu devotee. Lao-tzu mastered no physical discipline. My own masters practiced nothing but deep meditation, and they were completely awake. They transcended their psychology through the silence of the mind.

For over thirty years, I have practiced Aikido, achieving a high-level black belt. It was taught in our ashram and it beautifully enhanced my path, but it was never the totality of the Way. It was a method, not a replacement for conscious living.

The founder of Aikido, Morihei Ueshiba, noted:
“Each and every master, regardless of their era or the place, heard the call and attained harmony with heaven and earth. There are many paths leading to the top of Mount Fuji, but there is only one summit – Love.”

Ueshiba transcended the dualities of body and mind to enter the oneness of Love. He had no opponents because he blended seamlessly with the universe.

The Teacher is the Teaching
Because this cutting process requires showing students that their worldly survival mechanisms are out of alignment with the Way—essentially, that their default approach to life is wrong—it is rarely popular.

People hate being told they are wrong. They point out the speck in their brother’s eye while ignoring the beam in their own. They point to outer worldly success as proof of inward righteousness, forgetting that the physical world is ruled by impermanence. What goes up must come down, and death remains the ultimate equalizer.

To receive what a teacher offers, one must possess deep patience and kindness. Without these, the teachings will be missed entirely.

Consider this Zen story:

A man came to a Zen Master asking to be taught. The Master agreed. For three hours, the man sat in the corner of a hectic room, watching the Master greet people, answer questions, solve dilemmas, and hold periods of silence.”

Finally, the man grew feverish with impatience and snapped, “I have been here for three hours and you have taught me nothing!”

The Master looked at him and said, “What have I been doing this whole time? People came, I answered. The teaching was not in the answers, but in the answering. You should have watched how I responded. People came, we shared silence. There was your teaching. What have I been doing for three hours, you fool? I have been teaching you.”

The man was at a loss because he expected an intellectual transfer of data. He did not understand that an authentic Master does not just dispense knowledge. Like Ueshiba, the Teacher is the teaching. Through patience, the petty and insignificant aspects of the ego melt away, revealing the sacred state of Love that lives within us all.

The quality of the Teacher and what that person can offer to serve the student is in direct proportion to the karma of the student themselves. Hence, the student can only recognize the importance and relevance of the Teacher if they are willing to realize the absoluteness of the state of their karma through the process.

An authentic Teacher endures immense hostility while attempting to evoke Love from a place of deep-seated defensiveness. Ultimately, the role a Teacher plays in your life is entirely subjective—it depends completely on your level of awareness and the genuine value you place on your practice.

For many years, I have quietly tended to the wounds in my back, left by the metaphorical daggers and arrows of my own students. It is an inescapable part of this path, and I have come to understand and accept this reaction from the ego-driven mind.

To me, the process is like trying to remove a thorn from the paw of a wounded animal. A rare few understand the intent and allow the help. But most are far too consumed by their own pain to recognize that the discomfort I introduce is actually the healing salve of Love. Like any frightened creature, they misinterpret absolute care as abuse, and they bite.