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analogy
September 2009 
layers of self
Posted on Dec 12th, 2006
by 
Donan
Donan
I woke this morning at 1:30am with one thing on my mind…onions. Not such a great analogy, I thought, for peeling away the layers of self that we build throughout our lives. It‘s useful but there must be something better.
So I considered the onion. First, peel away the tunic, the easy paper thin layer that seem to be of no use at all--this is the most obvious self that we wear. Then we take off an outer layer of white with spots and dried out patches where the tunic didn‘t quite offer the protection needed. If we keep peeling, a layer at a time, sometimes it seems easy, other layers are difficult, even stubborn…and our eyes sting and water.
So far so good, but when we get to the center of an onion we do not find a quiet contemplative space, we find a stem attached to a hard basal root structure. What’s more, the outer layers of an onion are the oldest layers that protect the new developing growth underneath. Can this really speak of self when self often builds new layers of protection on the surface to cover past hurts? At best self is an onion growing inside out.
Then I realized that my view of the onion was faulty…incomplete.
An onion is a bulb, it holds everything that the plant needs to grow safely underground. The stem at the center grows out of a basal root structure which gives off fine root hairs to sip water and nutrients from the ground. Each year the bulb goes dormant and the root hairs die and, as the life cycle begins anew, they are replaced to again bring just what is needed for growth. The leaves, the white fleshy layers grow thick to protect the stem, but also to store energy for the future. And the stem? It reaches skyward and becomes a conduit for life as the sun pours it’s energy down.
The stem feeds light and life to all, but without the base there is no strength in the stem. Without the stem there are no layers to peel, no tunic to strip away. Without roots there is no absorption of the earth’s minerals. Without minerals there are no tears. Without the roots there is no transfer of water. Without water the stem cannot grow. If the stem cannot grow it cannot touch the sun…and the soul languishes as it gradually consumes itself.
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Your thoughts about the onion are really beautiful, and remind me of some of the thought about gender in terms of how trees are trunks with branches in the sky and roots in the soil, and the roots and branches take up about the same area–so the leaves bringing in the sun's energy through the air is the male process and the roots bringing in water and minerals through soil is the female process. The onion, actually, is more complex than the tree for thinking about a model like this. I loved the part about “without minerals there are no tears.” Quan Yin, Prajnaparamita–wisdom goddesses of the Eastern traditions–use compassion as a primary way of knowing–as wisdom. Quan Yin is associated with the willow tree–weeping willow (as well as comforting with the willow bark, which produces a natural aspirin). These goddesses cry. The tears wash away what needs to be cleansed. While reading your meditation on the onion I'm thinking all these things! Thank you for the wonderful blog!
I’m getting to know you Donan….you’re quite an articulate, thoughtful human being…and despite your self-effacements, a decent speller… ;-)
As I read your poetic description of the onion’s physical properties and interdependencies, I was thinking about my own blog about a dew drop…it felt to me as if there was some synergy there… and you’re inspiring me to dig deeper.
Thank you.