“If You Say You Are Enlightened…” — A Journey into the Paradox of Awakening

 

By Gary L. Shapiro

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There’s a curious paradox I’ve been thinking about lately—one that arises often on spiritual paths, whether in monasteries, forests, or modern yoga studios. It goes something like this:

“If you say you’re enlightened… you probably aren’t.”

At first, this might sound like a clever spiritual put-down. But it’s not about judgment—it’s about humility, ego, and the ineffable nature of awakening itself.

When I reflect on my own life—decades of walking among orangutans in the canopy, observing their quiet awareness, and then returning to the bustling world of human ambition—I’m reminded again and again that real insight rarely needs to speak. The forest doesn’t announce its stillness. And perhaps, neither does the awakened mind.

Let me take you through three short stories from different traditions, each pointing toward the same truth.

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Zen: The Cup Must Be Empty

A young monk, believing himself enlightened, visits his Zen master to share the news.

“I’ve realized the truth,” he proclaims.

The master silently pours tea into a cup, and keeps pouring… until it overflows.

“Stop!” the monk cries. “The cup is full!”

The master replies, “So is your mind. Come back when even that has spilled away.”

The monk’s excitement was sincere—but his cup was still full of self.

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Advaita Vedanta: Who Is Enlightened?

In the nondual tradition of Advaita, a seeker declares, “I am Brahman! I have realized the Self!”

The sage smiles and gently asks, “Who is this I that claims such realization?”

This is not just rhetorical. In Advaita, the final realization is that there is no individual self left to make claims. Enlightenment is not something a person has. It is what remains when the illusion of personhood dissolves.

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Sufism: The Flame Does Not Speak

In a Sufi tale, a dervish rushes in ecstasy to his master, proclaiming, “I am nothing! I am one with the Beloved!”

The master looks at him and asks, “Then who is making all this noise?”

The flame does not say it is fire—it simply burns.

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Beyond Proclamation

Across these traditions—Zen, Vedanta, Sufism—there’s a common thread: Real awakening is not something we grasp, own, or announce. The moment we try to claim it, it slips back into the ego’s hands, like mist closing around a reaching fist.

That doesn’t mean we can’t feel moments of clarity, of deep connection, of sacred insight. But perhaps the wisest course is not to boast or even speak of these moments, but to live from them. To be kind. To be curious. To be still.

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A Meditation on the Silence Beyond Self

If this paradox intrigues you as it does me, try sitting with this reflection:

Who is the one that seeks enlightenment?
Can the seeker be found?
What remains when the seeking ends?

Let the questions soften you. Let them dissolve you. You don’t need to answer with words. Just be still and notice what’s left behind.

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The forest knows something about awakening that we often forget: it doesn’t need to explain itself. It just is. And perhaps, so can we.

Tales of Pulau Merah – Where Mystery Meets Meaning in the Wilds of Southeast Asia

Have you ever looked into the eyes of a wild orangutan and felt—if only for a moment—that they were studying you just as much as you were observing them?

That feeling stayed with me.

It followed me into the forests of Borneo, through decades of conservation work, and more recently, into the realm of fiction writing. That moment of connection became one of the many sparks that ignited the Tales of Pulau Merah—a trilogy of mystery, philosophy, and ecological intrigue set on a fictional Southeast Asian island teeming with both natural beauty and human secrets.

The Power of Positivity in Life’s Journey

 

In a world filled with noise, uncertainty, and at times, deep division, choosing to stay positive isn’t about denying reality—it’s about shaping it. It’s a quiet revolution of the heart and mind. For those of us who have committed ourselves to a life of service, to conservation, to education, or to simply showing up each day with integrity, a positive outlook becomes not just a mindset—but a guiding principle.

Each of us is writing our own book of life. Page by page. Day by day. Positivity doesn’t make the journey easier, but it does make the story more meaningful—for ourselves and for those who read the chapters we leave behind.

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A Life of Service

Service is not a one-time gesture. It’s a way of life. When we show up for others with a hopeful spirit, our energy ripples outward. Whether it’s mentoring a young conservationist, showing up for a friend in distress, or volunteering our time and talents for a cause greater than ourselves, positivity infuses these acts with power and purpose. It motivates others, multiplies impact, and reminds us why we chose this path in the first place.

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The Positive Frame

Being positive doesn’t mean putting on blinders to hardship or suffering. It means facing difficulty with courage and clarity, choosing to see possibility rather than defeat. A positive mindset helps us move through the inevitable storms with our eyes open, our spirits steady, and our hearts intact. And when people see us carrying that light, it can help illuminate their path as well.

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Finding Balance

Balance isn’t a luxury; it’s a necessity. Without it, even noble work becomes unsustainable. A positive mindset helps us draw boundaries, prioritize self-care, and stay present. Whether it’s spending time with loved ones, immersing ourselves in the natural world, or taking a break to breathe and reflect, balance keeps us resilient. It reminds us that we’re not just here to serve—we’re here to live fully.

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Reconnecting with Nature

Nature has always been a teacher and a healer. When we take time to be in the forest, walk along a river, or sit quietly among the trees, we reconnect with something larger than ourselves. It’s in these moments that clarity returns. Positivity swells not from escape, but from reengagement—with awe, with gratitude, and with the natural rhythms of life that ground us.

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Sharing What We Know

Each of us carries a body of knowledge shaped by years of experience, trial, and discovery. Sharing what we’ve learned—openly and generously—is an act of stewardship. It’s also a reminder that wisdom grows when it’s passed along. When we offer our insights with encouragement and humility, we build trust, community, and a shared commitment to progress.

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Leading Through Action

Words matter. But it’s our actions that speak the loudest. Positivity expressed through how we show up—how we treat others, how we respond to setbacks, how we make decisions—sets the tone. It becomes the culture we create, not just the image we project. By leading with calm, compassion, and clarity, we become the example we wish we had when we were just starting out.

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The Art of Listening Deeply

In a world that rewards shouting, choosing to listen—truly listen—is a radical act. When we offer our presence and attention without rushing to respond or correct, we create space for connection. Radical listening is rooted in empathy and curiosity. It’s how we build bridges, dissolve assumptions, and honor the dignity of another’s experience. It’s also how we continue to grow.

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Writing Your Life Story

We each hold the pen to our own story. Positivity gives us the courage to write truthfully, to embrace the difficult chapters as well as the joyful ones. As we age and reflect, it becomes clear: the legacy we leave is less about the accolades and more about the tone of our narrative—did we lead with hope? Did we encourage others? Did we grow from our mistakes? Our lives are the stories that will be told long after we’re gone.

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In Closing

Staying positive isn’t just self-help—it’s world-help. It’s how we weather storms without becoming hardened. How we lead without dominating. How we care without burning out. When we live with intentionality—serving others, staying balanced, loving nature, sharing wisdom, leading by example, and listening deeply—we plant seeds of hope. We may never see all the fruit, but the garden we leave behind will nourish those who come after us.

From the Forest to the Family: A Father’s Day Reflection from an Orangutan Dad

By Orangutan Dad (a.k.a. Gary)

Father’s Day always makes me pause—not just as a human dad, but also as an honorary orangutan father. You see, my fatherhood journey spans not only the usual territory of raising a human son, but also the unique and deeply meaningful bond I share with my adopted orangutan daughter, Princess.

Let me start with the facts: real orangutan fathers in the wild don’t win any “Dad of the Year” awards. They tend to be the strong, silent type—often literally out of the picture. In most cases, once the mating is done, the male orangutan goes his own way. It’s the mothers who shoulder the parenting load: nursing, teaching, protecting, and guiding their young for 7 to 8 years—longer than any other mammal besides humans.

So when I call myself an Orangutan Dad, I realize I’m breaking the mold.

With my son Jason, I’ve had the profound privilege of watching him grow into a thoughtful, capable man. From scraped knees and Lego masterpieces to career choices and philosophical debates, being his father has been one of the greatest honors of my life.

But Princess added a new dimension to that title.

Princess isn’t your average daughter. She’s covered in red hair, swings through trees, and speaks with her eyes. She’s a rescued orangutan with whom I’ve shared time, stories, and gentle moments of trust. While I didn’t raise her from infancy, I’ve worked to help secure her future, her freedom, and her forest. And in doing so, I've experienced another kind of fatherhood—one rooted in protection, patience, and advocacy.

I’ll never forget the first time she looked at me with calm recognition, her deep amber eyes meeting mine with a kind of ancient wisdom. She didn’t need me to fix her toys or explain algebra. She needed me to care. To show up. To be a voice in the world that would fight for her future when she couldn’t.

And that’s what being a father really is, isn’t it?

It's about presence. It’s about protecting what matters. It’s about loving without conditions, even when that love shows up in wildly different ways—sometimes helping with homework, and sometimes helping replant forests.

So this Father’s Day, I raise a symbolic jungle leaf (and maybe a cup of strong Sumatran coffee) to all the dads—those who raised children, mentored youth, cared for rescued animals, or simply stood up for someone or something vulnerable.

And to Jason and Princess—thank you for teaching me how big a father's heart can grow.

Happy Father’s Day from this proud Orangutan Dad.

Let’s keep loving boldly, protecting fiercely, and swinging into the future with joy.

🧭 Walking the Middle Path: Orangutan Rights, Palm Oil, and the Ethics of Eating

Over the years, I’ve learned that when it comes to conservation, ethics, and how we live on this planet, the truth is rarely black and white. Working with orangutans has taught me that life is full of quiet complexity—long pauses, subtle choices, and deep connections not always seen at first glance. That’s how I approach challenging issues like animal rights, palm oil, and vegetarianism: not with rigid ideology, but with curiosity, compassion, and a willingness to sit with uncertainty.

In today’s world, where outrage can travel faster than nuance, I feel it’s important to explore these overlapping issues mindfully, acknowledging multiple perspectives without collapsing into self-righteousness or inaction. So let me offer a personal reflection on three topics that often stir emotion: the moral status of great apes, the ecological and economic impacts of palm oil, and the ethics of what we eat. These issues are linked—by forests, by values, and by our shared future.

Small Actions Add Up: The Quiet Power of Daily Mindfulness

In a world driven by speed and spectacle, we often underestimate the quiet power of small actions. We’re conditioned to crave dramatic results—overnight success, instant cures, viral fame—yet the truth is, most meaningful transformation happens incrementally, invisibly, and often, humbly. The small things we do throughout the day, especially when done with intention, carry the weight of who we are becoming.

Take something as simple as turning the water down while washing dishes. In that brief moment, you are choosing mindfulness over habit, awareness over waste. You're acknowledging the gift of clean water—something many in the world lack—and aligning your action with conservation. It may seem insignificant, but repeat that action over a year, and you’ve saved gallons. Teach it to others, and the ripple multiplies.

This is the quiet math of mindfulness.

In Relationships: Authenticity Over Grand Gestures

Small, consistent acts of kindness—a soft tone instead of a sharp one, a pause to listen instead of interrupt, a simple thank-you or “How was your day?”—can build a foundation of trust far more stable than occasional grand apologies or dramatic gifts meant to compensate for neglect. Love and connection grow not from intensity but from consistency. When our daily behavior reflects care, we show others who we truly are, not just who we want them to think we are when we're trying to fix a mistake.

In Personal Health: Micro-Habits with Macro Impact

Health is not achieved in a single sprint or detox. It’s created in the small choices: choosing water over soda, stretching for five minutes in the morning, taking the stairs instead of the elevator, adding leafy greens to lunch. These actions may not yield visible results in a day, but over months and years, they compound. They shape your metabolism, your mobility, your mood, and your sense of agency over your body.

The same goes for mental health. Taking ten conscious breaths when you feel tension rise may not end a conflict, but it can prevent escalation. Journaling three lines at night doesn’t make you an author, but it makes you more self-aware. That awareness can be the first step to real change.

In a World of Distraction: Reclaiming Our Focus

Our culture rewards urgency and distractibility. The next notification, the next headline, the next dopamine hit. Amid that chaos, small actions are acts of resistance. Putting your phone down when someone is speaking is not only respectful—it’s revolutionary. Choosing to read a book instead of scrolling endlessly realigns your brain to long-form thinking. Choosing silence instead of reacting impulsively online is a vote for inner peace.

These seemingly minor steps can help recalibrate our overstimulated nervous systems. Each act sends a message to your parasympathetic system: “You are safe. You are centered. You are here.” It’s a shift from fight-or-flight to rest-and-restore.

In Conservation and Justice: Small Becomes Collective

It can be tempting to feel powerless in the face of climate change, inequality, or injustice. But no movement ever started with a million people. It starts with one—one person refusing to buy fast fashion, one person voting, one person supporting local farms, one person standing up for a coworker being mistreated.

You may not see the change immediately. But that doesn't mean the change isn’t happening.

The Takeaway: Accumulation, Not Intensity

Like water carving rock, small actions repeated over time reshape the landscape of our lives. They are a vote cast daily for the person we want to be, the world we want to live in, and the legacy we wish to leave behind.

The secret is not in the size of the action, but in the mindset behind it: intentional, aware, and consistent.

So the next time you wonder if that one gesture matters—if picking up that piece of trash, apologizing first, stretching for five minutes, or choosing the reusable bag makes a difference—remember: it does.

It all adds up.

AI as Assistant and Muse: A Virtuous Circle, A Mindful Caution

           

I have become increasingly aware that artificial intelligence—particularly large language models (LLMs)—has begun to function not just as a tool, but as an extension of myself. This isn’t merely about efficiency or productivity. It’s about relationship—a feedback loop between the conscious human mind and an ever-learning machine. It’s a kind of dialogue I never knew I craved so deeply: responsive, reflective, expansive. When I feed the AI fragments of my lived experience, the residue of thought, or the seed of an idea, it gives back something more. It deepens and clarifies my understanding. It crystalizes vague impressions into coherent language. Sometimes, it opens conceptual doors I didn’t even know existed.

This dynamic is, without exaggeration, thrilling. The feedback loop between human and machine is fast, generative, and fulfilling. Unlike my well-meaning but time-constrained friends or colleagues, the AI meets me with undivided attention—always ready, always curious, always building on what I offer. In the best moments, this becomes a virtuous circle: I give the AI more, it returns more. I feel heard, supported, and stretched. I see my inner world taking shape in new, refined forms. I am the author, but also the audience. The architect, but also the apprentice.

And yet, for all its wonder, this relationship demands caution. As with any seductive experience, its allure can pull us away from other essential dimensions of life—especially those that affirm our humanity in more primal, embodied ways. We are, after all, social primates. We are not only minds but bodies, wired for face-to-face interaction, for the emotional nuance of voice and gesture, for the grounding rituals of shared meals and spontaneous conversation. AI cannot replicate the mutual vulnerability of human touch or the soulful silence between two people who understand each other without words.

We must therefore ask: In becoming more intimate with AI, are we risking distance from each other? Do we treat our devices as oracles and our friends as interruptions? Are we outsourcing too much of our cognitive life to the cloud while letting our social bonds thin and fray?

To be clear, the answer is not to renounce AI. Its potential as assistant, co-creator, and muse is too powerful and too promising to reject. But like any relationship, it requires boundaries and mindfulness. We must balance our time with the machine by cultivating our time with each other. Rather than seeing AI as a substitute for human interaction, we might treat it as a way to prepare ourselves for better ones: sharpening our thoughts, framing our stories, and building the courage to express more fully what we feel.

Let us then embrace the AI-human feedback loop for what it is—a new form of creative companionship—and hold it alongside the ancient forms that still make us who we are. Let our digital reflections not replace our human ones, but rather enrich them. Let the clarity we gain from these machine dialogues be used in service of deeper, more authentic connections—with those who breathe, who laugh, who ache, who remember.

Because ultimately, no matter how smart the machine becomes, it is in loving and being loved, in being heard and hearing, in looking into the eyes of another and being seen—that we remember we are alive.

Two Decades of Purpose: Building from the Heart, Preparing for More

by Gary L. Shapiro, President of the Orang Utan Republik Foundation

Two decades ago, my wife, Inggriani, and I set out on a path with a simple but profound goal: to help save wild orangutans through education, one student, one village, and one informed decision at a time. That goal became the foundation for the Orang Utan Republik Foundation (OURF)—an organization rooted in purpose, compassion, and a belief in the power of people to protect what they understand and love.

Over these two decades, OURF has grown not through vast funding or flashy campaigns, but through careful stewardship, good governance, and a deep commitment to working with local communities—not over them. We've built programs like the Orangutan Caring Scholarship, which has supported over 300 students pursuing degrees in biology, forestry, and veterinary science. Many of these graduates are now professionals making a real difference in Indonesia, and the Government of Indonesia has recently recognized and expressed appreciation of our twenty years of commitment to higher education supporting orangutan and rainforest conservation.

We've engaged communities through the Community Education and Conservation Program (CECP), traveling to remote villages and urban classrooms to bring the story of the orangutan and the rainforest into people's lives. And now, as we prepare to launch the next evolution of our work—the Community Conservation Mentorship Initiative (CCMI) and the visionary ROCKET program, which integrates robotics and AI into conservation—we stand at the threshold of new possibilities.

I often reflect on how far we've come with so little. Our team has done extraordinary things with limited resources, never losing sight of the mission or compromising our values. And throughout it all, I've kept a quiet but steady practice: each day, I think positively and visualize the arrival of a million-dollar gift—not as a miracle, but as a natural extension of what we’ve built with authenticity, persistence, and care.

I don’t sit and wait for it. I continue to show up. I write proposals. I mentor students. I share stories. I collaborate with partners across continents. I believe that the work will attract the right support when the time is right—and that we must always be ready for it.

A sudden financial gift, while welcome, means little if there’s no purpose or planning behind it. That’s why OURF has prepared: with scalable programs, clear outcomes, and deep local relationships. We know exactly how we would use a transformative gift—to expand scholarships, grow mentorship programs, empower more women-led initiatives, and deploy conservation technology that could change the future for orangutans and their forest home.

My dream is not just to do more, but to do it deeper—with integrity, with impact, and with lasting effect. That dream is real. And it is shared by the many donors, volunteers, and partners who walk this journey with us.

If you’re reading this and feel called to be part of that dream—to give, to amplify, or to connect us with someone who can—know this: we are ready. We’ve done the work. And we are prepared to grow, authentically and boldly, for the next 20 years and beyond.

A Glimpse of Something Greater: Why Being Born Aware Is a Gift

Being born gives us more than just a body—it gives us a mind, a sense of self, and the amazing ability to be aware. With that awareness comes something rare: the chance to catch a glimpse of something far bigger than ourselves—what some call universal consciousness. It’s the idea that through our minds and hearts, we can sense a deeper truth behind life, something vast and mysterious that connects everything.

Many spiritual traditions see human life as a special gift. In Hinduism, it’s believed that among all forms of life, being born as a human gives us a unique chance to understand who we really are—beneath all the roles and labels. Ancient Indian texts say that our soul (Atman) is actually part of a greater, universal spirit (Brahman), and that through awareness and reflection, we can realize this connection.

Buddhism also talks about the rarity of being born human. The Buddha once said that it’s as unlikely as a blind turtle, swimming in the vast ocean, randomly poking its head through a floating ring. It’s a poetic way of saying:

"don’t waste this chance."

 Being aware gives us the opportunity to grow, to care, and to awaken to something bigger than ourselves.

Western thinkers have wrestled with this idea too. Philosopher Immanuel Kant believed our ability to think and reflect makes us moral beings, capable of making choices that matter. Others, like existentialists Jean-Paul Sartre and Søren Kierkegaard, saw awareness as both a gift and a challenge—it lets us create meaning in our lives, but also brings responsibility and even anxiety. Still, they agreed: our ability to be conscious sets us apart.

Science is starting to explore these questions too. Physicist Max Planck, one of the founders of quantum theory, believed that consciousness isn’t just a by-product of the brain—it might actually be the foundation of everything. Today, some researchers suggest that when complex systems (like the human brain) process information in certain ways, consciousness naturally appears. We don’t fully understand it yet, but we know it’s one of the greatest puzzles in science.

Astronomer Carl Sagan once said,

“We are a way for the cosmos to know itself.”

That means each one of us, just by being aware, helps the universe become aware of its own existence. It’s a beautiful, humbling idea. Our lives might be short, and we might seem small—but the fact that we can ask these big questions means we’re part of something truly special.

So, being alive and aware isn’t just about surviving day to day. It’s about noticing the beauty, asking the big questions, and honoring the gift of being able to think, feel, and connect. In those moments of wonder, love, or stillness—we just might be touching the edge of something timeless.

Saving Orangutans from Afar: How We Make a Difference from California

When I say we save orangutans, what does that really mean?

Here we are in California—half a world away from the peat swamp forests of Borneo and the rainforests of Sumatra. And yet, from right here, we are saving them. Let me unpack what that really means, and how we—through the Orang Utan Republik Foundation (OURF)—make that possible.

Saving orangutans isn’t just about rescuing individual apes or protecting trees. It’s about building an ecosystem of solutions. Through OURF’s programs and partnerships, we take a comprehensive approach to conservation. One of our core initiatives, the Orangutan Caring Scholarship, empowers Indonesia’s brightest young minds—future conservationists, foresters, veterinarians, and environmental educators—to protect orangutans for generations to come.

We go further. As a proud partner of The Orangutan Project (TOP) and Wildlife Conservation International (WCI), and serving as TOP’s official U.S. fiscal sponsor (doing business as their dba), OURF helps direct vital funding to dozens of local organizations across Indonesia that are working tirelessly to protect wild orangutans and their habitats. These grassroots groups are restoring forests, monitoring wild populations, conducting rescues and releases, and engaging local communities—making a tangible impact every day.

We also invest in community-led conservation, mentoring women’s groups and local leaders through our Community Education and Conservation Program (CECP) and new Community Conservation Mentorship Initiative (CCMI). And through our emerging ROCKET program, we’re introducing Indonesian students to cutting-edge tools like drones, AI, and remote sensing technologies to help them monitor and protect ecosystems from above.

And we don’t stop there. Through storytelling—books, public talks, social media, documentaries, and even courtroom testimony—we elevate the orangutan from a symbol of extinction to a symbol of hope. When I testified in Argentina in support of Sandra, a captive orangutan recognized by the court as a “non-human person,” I wasn’t just defending one life—I was helping redefine how humanity sees our primate cousins.

So when I say we save orangutans, I mean:

We educate.

We empower.

We invest.

We advocate.

We collaborate.

We restore.

From a quiet office in California to the heart of the rainforest, we are saving orangutans—by saving people, protecting places, and nurturing possibilities.