And finally, Glenn Wallis offers sixteen propositions as a map to find our way through the texts.  These cluster into six groups that are fascinating in their intent.

The teachings begin by asking you to recognize and explore where you are (Habitat).

You are introduced to ideas and perspectives that have a disorienting effect (Dis-orientation).

You are introduced to ideas and perspectives that point you in a different direction (Re-orientation).

You are shown a plan for a new habitat (Map).

You are given the details of that end (Destination).

You set out on the open journey (Going).

Looking them over, I can see that I don’t tend to get further than the second group.  Of course, every journey begins with hours of obsessively cleaning house (habitat? – likely not), and organizing the unorganizable.  Some call it procrastination; I call it letting the Muse emerge.  Then I’m likely stuck in a dis-orientated pose for years and years.  The primary question of the last three days has been “Am I willing to change?”  Or more poignantly, “Am I willing to give up my treasured stances to dukkha on the chance – a Chance! – that it might lead me in a different direction?”

Wallis calls de-orientation a “bewitchment” against knowing reality, “knowing for yourself.”  I like this.  I like Magic in general; it takes the responsibility off my shoulders.  But I’m guessing that a true application of the teachings isn’t going to let me wave any more wands.

Here’s the third question to ask as we dig into our relationship with the teachings texts of the Buddha (as far as we may know them):

Would I be willing to alter my life in the way the text is suggesting?

Often, the answer – and a superficial one – is to say, No.  I feel challenged by Wallis’ call to sit in the dynamic of a good question.

Learning takes place at the point of tension between credulous appreciation and wary dismissal.

He points out that we are experts at the dichotomies. We thrive at the nadir and zenith of the acceptance/rejection continuum.  And we are loath to abandon this immediate stance.  And that’s just fine.

Whatever it is, your response to a word, passage, or text is the very lifeblood of reading.  It is in your response that your relationship to the world of the suttas is formed, developed, and fulfilled or unfulfilled.

The art of discovery lies in the willingness to open – not so much to the answers but to the question.