Leaving the Science and Nonduality Conference in San Rafael, I took a cab to the airport in San Francisco. The cab driver asked me what nonduality was. Being aware of the conference, he said he had looked up nonduality in the dictionary but couldn’t find the word. I told him it wasn’t in the dictionary and said that it means we are all one in some way.
He then quoted a few lines of a poem. I asked if it was Rumi as it was very pure. He said he wrote it. “What happened to you,” I asked. For, clearly, there was a story behind those words.
He was a Muslim who had an enlightenment experience some years ago. “I saw something,” he said. Afterward, he was steered toward Sufism. He enjoyed telling me about his experiences and knowledge and we had the kind of open conversation that usually arises when two people have some understanding of this nonduality stuff.
“There is only one. It is all Allah.” “Yes,” I said. He said he prays five times a day but it is mainly the first prayer in the morning, when his head touches the ground, that he knows who he really is. “When you know that all this is Allah,” he said, “there is only prayer. That is what prayer is,” he said, “seeing that all is Allah.” We agreed that different religions have different names for what some call Allah. Only sanity passed our lips.
The cost of the ride came to $125 on his meter but he said to only pay him 100. I gave him 120. He got out of the car and we hugged, drunk on the wine of nonduality.