To bear in inward keeping spirit bounty
Is stern command of my prophetic feeling,
That ripened gifts divine
Maturing in the depths of soul
To selfhood bring their fruits.
— Rudolf Steiner, The Calendar of the Soul
peace, much love and light, Jay
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Source: Society6
by Chickens In The Trees
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I woke up this morning realizing how hard it is to transcend duality consciousness. The perception of an “other” is a reminder that there is still some path ahead of me. In a state of divine love, there is no other. There are those who have realized this who have had destinies of monastic-type lives. There are those who have realized this who have lived fully in this life amid the din and roar. Wherever we have been placed, it is the perfect place to come to Self* recognition.
*The Self is that which by its very nature is indivisible. All things appears as reflections inside of the Self. When we identify with a fragment, believing that we are that fragment only, this is described as wrong identification (a term used by G.I. Gurdjieff). I don’t believe it is really “wrong.” But in this state there is always at least an underlying sense of deprivation and lack of contentment. In the end, we will not be satisfied until we reach divine awareness and supreme inner peace.
In time, when the yogi’s practice of meditation matures, he begins to experience unmilana-samadhi, open-eyed absorption. In other words, from the state of nimilana samadhi, he opens his eyes and his awareness remains absorbed in the Self even though he is in the state that comes after meditation (vyutthana) with his senses fully operating. The term vyutthana means ‘to rise’ or ‘to wake up,’ which I like to think means that, in the most expansive expression of waking consciousness, one has awakened to the perception of external objects bathed in the Great Light of Consciousness.
— Swami Shantananda, The Splendor of Recognition
I woke up thinking about how our personal and collective lives are almost always in the foreground of our experience. Most of our thoughts and actions are determined by what occupies the foreground of our lives.
Unless we cultivate a deeper perspective, no amount of attention to detail will bring the right proportions before our mind’s eye. No matter how noble our struggles to improve ourselves and the world, it is all a futile thrashing when we are not residents of the Heart.
The pull of absorption in the small self, the pallor of sleep, is so strong. To lay down for a moment may mean to sleep for aeons. I think of the many fairy tales that present the pitfall of sleep before us.
There is no hope without the grace that comes in moments of waking. One drop of dew on the grass in early morning can be our salvation. It can slake a thirst we scarcely know we have until that one droplet meets the eye, and takes hold of us in some profound and unexpected way.
I can only pray for the strength to rise to the challenge. To rise and partake of the elixir of early morning after a night of fitful sleep, to practice obedience to the great rhythm of the world, isn’t easy. The body aches, the mind drags down around the ears. Every cell screams for sweet, elusive rest.
