Needle and Thread

I shall present here a rather involved analogy, or vision, if I may, which must be taken to resemble both the soul's transmigration between the material and spiritual worlds, as perceived most literally in the processes of birth and death, as well as the soul's tendency, whether incarnated or disembodied, of tending either towards the very heights of the heavens or the depths of the earth; that is, to the most refined contemplation or the humblest act. Freedom and fate are alluded to, but the basic thrust of the image shows less concern for these, and more for the larger process of which they partake.

This analogy, -- which is, as I say, quite involved, -- need not be understood all at once, nor in its entirety. Indeed, our insistance upon an immediate and thorough intellectual analysis would only inhibit what must ultimately be an intuitive appreciation of the mysteries and paradoxes suggested by the figure. While I believe the example is eloquent, nonetheless, I suggest that true eloquence is only simple on its surface, and rarely, if ever, comprehended in its depths; even by those who speak it. Ultimately, the vision must give way (as, indeed, it will in the following meditation) to considerations transcending itself, and which it serves only to inspire.

The Needle and the Thread; the present and the past;
becoming and being; what is occurring and what is already...

Consider how the tapestry of destiny is woven. The thread hangs loose as the needle freely arcs, both high and low; ascending towards the more delicate and abstract realms of spirit, or descending into the more difficult, slow-moving and concrete concerns of the incarnate world; -- in order to effect a forward progress in the unification of both to a single purpose.

The tapestry itself, the pattern of fate, that which is woven, is static, settled, secured, and past. In this it appears to possess a more deliberate being. Only here is the thread pulled tight, and here we seem to observe a cosmic mean, where the higher and lower worlds meet, and resolve themselves, for better or worse, into an ultimate reality. Yet, the actual business of life takes place at the end of the needle. It is never resolved, but alternates, like a wave, between two worlds, albeit on a singular trajectory.

When the needle goes below the woven fabric of being, we are incarnate in the material world. At its lowest point, we are firmly anchored therein, retaining no airy notions whatsoever, but entirely practical in our pursuits. Nevertheless, it is precisely here that we are turned around, as it were, by an unsustainable cynicism, and reoriented in the direction of the higher worlds. So do we begin again our enlightening ascent, remembering what is lofty, recovering the visionary outlook, and moving gradually out of matter, towards the realization of an abstract ideal.

Then, once more having pierced the center, we ascend beyond the physical, into the realms of utter noblesse. The body is not regarded in the mind; the mind is not retained in the body. There is the breathlessness of a freedom which approaches and, indeed, transcends the miracle of flight, as the soul is merged in the bluest regions of divine union. Again, though, idealism must reach its zenith, as cynicism its nadir, and the soul return from whence it was.

What one observes in the subtlest regions of God's love is that love, even as it reaches up to God in heaven, also reaches down from there to man; humbling itself even to the point of incarnating with man, as man. Love is no less a descending than ascending principle, and it is, ultimately, that Holy Spirit which motivates  the alternating movement of the soul. The Father in Heaven, beyond all conception, is no more nor less God than the Son on Earth, who can be seen, and the Spirit which relates the One to the Other, and the Other to the One, is no less God than each of these.

Now, let it be understood that, while we speak of higher and lower, "we speak as men", according to the saying of Saint Paul; which is to say that we speak only in part; in a limited sense, to which divine intuition must be applied, if ever we are to grasp the whole of the intended meaning. So that, despite the connotations proper to "higher" and "lower", as well as to "heaven" and "earth", and even to "God" and "man", we must understand that no point in this process is more advanced than another, unless it be that point upon which we presently discover ourselves.

To be in the present moment is, truly, to be in the presence of God, and there is no genuine experience of God which is not also a genuine experience of man; for the one is never entirely distinct from the other, but, rather, to see each of these clearly is to see them in relation to one another; it is to see God-in-Man and Man-in-God. One cannot perceive God except in the Avatar,-- that is, in the Christ (according to the language of the Christians, which we preserve), -- nor can we percieve Man but in the same; for to see into the heart of man is to percieve the Christ, who is in him; and who takes upon himself the cloak of sins which is the very flesh and personality of each individual man. 

Who sees not Christ in Man, sees not Man, who is the incarnation of the divine, however sullied and obscured. And who sees not Christ in God, sees not God, who is the pure light; desirous rather to exhaust than to preserve itself above the muddy vicissitudes which might be warmed and penetrated thereby. Truly, the proud justice of the Father is not compromised, but, rather, it is perfected, in the humble mercy of His Son, the Savior of the world.