Tuesday, March 23, 2004
Myth, Transcendence, and the Spirit of the Age
Ours is perhaps at once the saddest and the most exciting time of history. Our violence is unsurpassed in its scale and long term consequences. And, in addition, we have lost the romantic vision. Always in the past, there was the aura of the transcendent, the other misty realm of poetry and meaning suffusing and elevating the manifest human sphere. Even warriors were imbued with a sense of honor, and higher purpose--e.g., the codes of honor which supported the protectors in "Beowulf," the high vision of divine guidance in The Iliad, one of the bloodiest of all epics. There was real good, real evil--as Dante witnessed and catalogued.
But today the myths are exploded, rejected entirely or else reduced to the jingoism and slogans of the masses, cheapened by political exploitation--shams that any thoughtful observer readily rejects.
But there is one area where myths survive and are yoked to mystery in their ancient marriage. That is in the spiritual realm, where experience outruns analysis, and transcendent vision is authenticated by inner alchemy. This is the mythic made real, the archetypes brought to life through crisis and confrontation.
Some reflections from last year:
Today I realized that I have written nothing in my journal since September. This has been a busy period--last Thursday I went again to Andrew's class and talked both morning and afternoon. This time things were not as intense as previously. In the morning class, I spoke on "Rumi as Poetic Inspiration" and read some of my poems which were inspired by or were responses to Rumi. In the afternoon I described my spiritual practice (mainly deep listening to sacred music, with some slow movement included.)
I was gratified that the classes were extremely responsive. They understood that my "journey"--though not the same as theirs--and my "practice" both gave them permission to follow their own paths, whatever those might be. One said she loved the energy path, but had been made to feel that she should do quiet sitting as "real meditation." Another woman said that as I read from "Unmasking the Rose" she could see my face in the rose on the cover. Then she began to sob, lamenting that she too wanted a lover (I don't know if she meant human or divine.) I held her in my arms for several minutes--clearly this was what she longed for.
My journey now consists to a great extent of sharing with others, and supporting them on their own journeys. I have kept up a heavy correspondence with an interesting "kundalini initiate" who lives on an organic farm in Washington state and can bring up the energies whenever she chooses by placing her tongue on the roof of her mouth. It seems that this has become a pattern--to discover a new friend and then to explore the relationship in some depth via e-mail (Laurence Edwards, Alice Howell, Cheela, Diana Douglas, Diane Knoll). The internet makes for a delightful way to meet new friends with similar (spiritual) interests. Indeed, Brian the psychic was right: he told me I was going to meet "many new and wonderful friends." Most recently I have connected with David Baum, who had a seeming heart attack in Peru at the base of Macchu Picchu, and subsequently wrote an incredible account of his recovery experience, and Beverly Fontaine, a remarkable social worker from southern California who is writing a dissertation on social work and the spiritual path.
The circles are closing--the networks are forming at an ever increasong rate, on many levels of consciousness.
July 31, 2003
I may have written entries since the above, but can't remember. Here is a recent "bliss events" of note (just to keep a record that "it' is still happening.)
Last week--on Friday, I think, I was moving slowly and listening to music--don't recall what--when it happened. For half an hour or so I felt once more the "exquisite bliss" of the divine energies. I stroked my "aura" (mostly arms and chest) for many minutes--my head opened, chest, torso, arms, wrists, hands--everything was merely bliss waves.
At this stage, what many of us are learning is how to swing back and forth from "bliss consciousness" to ordinary, or rational, consciousness. To swoon in sensuous delight, then focus our minds on the ordinary, the familiar--to write coherently about abstraction, follow a movie, read the newspaper, interact with others socially, run errands--all the necessary activities of the quotidian. And that is the trick--now one, now the other, now exaltation, now the daily, to "live in the world and out of it."
But today the myths are exploded, rejected entirely or else reduced to the jingoism and slogans of the masses, cheapened by political exploitation--shams that any thoughtful observer readily rejects.
But there is one area where myths survive and are yoked to mystery in their ancient marriage. That is in the spiritual realm, where experience outruns analysis, and transcendent vision is authenticated by inner alchemy. This is the mythic made real, the archetypes brought to life through crisis and confrontation.
Some reflections from last year:
Today I realized that I have written nothing in my journal since September. This has been a busy period--last Thursday I went again to Andrew's class and talked both morning and afternoon. This time things were not as intense as previously. In the morning class, I spoke on "Rumi as Poetic Inspiration" and read some of my poems which were inspired by or were responses to Rumi. In the afternoon I described my spiritual practice (mainly deep listening to sacred music, with some slow movement included.)
I was gratified that the classes were extremely responsive. They understood that my "journey"--though not the same as theirs--and my "practice" both gave them permission to follow their own paths, whatever those might be. One said she loved the energy path, but had been made to feel that she should do quiet sitting as "real meditation." Another woman said that as I read from "Unmasking the Rose" she could see my face in the rose on the cover. Then she began to sob, lamenting that she too wanted a lover (I don't know if she meant human or divine.) I held her in my arms for several minutes--clearly this was what she longed for.
My journey now consists to a great extent of sharing with others, and supporting them on their own journeys. I have kept up a heavy correspondence with an interesting "kundalini initiate" who lives on an organic farm in Washington state and can bring up the energies whenever she chooses by placing her tongue on the roof of her mouth. It seems that this has become a pattern--to discover a new friend and then to explore the relationship in some depth via e-mail (Laurence Edwards, Alice Howell, Cheela, Diana Douglas, Diane Knoll). The internet makes for a delightful way to meet new friends with similar (spiritual) interests. Indeed, Brian the psychic was right: he told me I was going to meet "many new and wonderful friends." Most recently I have connected with David Baum, who had a seeming heart attack in Peru at the base of Macchu Picchu, and subsequently wrote an incredible account of his recovery experience, and Beverly Fontaine, a remarkable social worker from southern California who is writing a dissertation on social work and the spiritual path.
The circles are closing--the networks are forming at an ever increasong rate, on many levels of consciousness.
July 31, 2003
I may have written entries since the above, but can't remember. Here is a recent "bliss events" of note (just to keep a record that "it' is still happening.)
Last week--on Friday, I think, I was moving slowly and listening to music--don't recall what--when it happened. For half an hour or so I felt once more the "exquisite bliss" of the divine energies. I stroked my "aura" (mostly arms and chest) for many minutes--my head opened, chest, torso, arms, wrists, hands--everything was merely bliss waves.
At this stage, what many of us are learning is how to swing back and forth from "bliss consciousness" to ordinary, or rational, consciousness. To swoon in sensuous delight, then focus our minds on the ordinary, the familiar--to write coherently about abstraction, follow a movie, read the newspaper, interact with others socially, run errands--all the necessary activities of the quotidian. And that is the trick--now one, now the other, now exaltation, now the daily, to "live in the world and out of it."
