If man is without sin, then Christ is without sense; for Christ is the exemplar, but a man who stands by his own strength has no use for an exemplar to guide him. We who humble ourselves to the Master do so, not in abeyance to any supposed commandment or creed, but because we recognize our own imperfections and the righteousness of Jesus Christ.
Where we are weak, he is strong. Where we are conflicted, he is decisive, and speaks with the authority of God. His virtues are clear answers to the muddled questions of vice. He speaks for us, stands for us, dies for us, and becomes immortal, legendary, for the sake of all mankind. He is a light, not only to the nations, but to the ages as well. The poet-philosopher Novalis writes, "Martyrs are spiritual heroes. Christ was the greatest martyr of our species; through him has martyrdom become infinitely significant and holy."
The blessedness of Christ is not something in which man has some vicarious part, but, rather, it is that which kindles and enflames the native blessedness in the soul of man. Jesus is not some surrogate, fulfilling the duties of righteousness, so that man does not have to. What he has done, we also must learn how to do; for that is the very purpose for which he did it. If the love of Christ suffices to nullify the sins of mankind, it is only because love, and love alone, forgives and, ultimately, cleanses the sins of mankind. Love cannot rob the sin of its stench -- but can rob the soul of its sin. What Christ blesses, he transforms. If his blessing did not transform it, what purpose would there be in blessing it, and in what sense could it still be called blessed?
A man cannot sin and then say, "I am without sin, because I am with Christ!" Had he been with Christ, he would not have sinned. But, what he can say is, "In spite of my sin, I am beloved of God," because Christ has loved him; and, so, made God's love known to him.
God cannot take away from us the obligation -- indeed, the right, the honor, and the privilege -- to work out our own salvation, "in fear and trembling". Though we imagine there is nothing we would prefer more than to be handed the keys to all the treasures of heaven, in fact, no treasure in heaven can compare to the glory of having attained, by one's own merits, the grace of God; for that is the gift one gives oneself, if only in consenting to receive. For while it is true that grace falls everywhere, and is free, nonetheless, the Lord has left it in the hands of men to decide whether or not they will receive as freely what He has freely given.
To receive the grace of God is no small affair. It is not some prepared recitation of doctrines, codes, or creeds. It is not some subtle shift in the mind, whereby one suddenly "chooses to believe" this or that proposition. Rather, being receptive to grace is something which requires profound dedication; it is a commitment to lay oneself open, at every level of one's being ("with all your heart, all your mind, and all your strength").
It is a recognition which penetrates to the very core of self; a recognition of one's utter dependence upon the assistance of a higher force; that one is flawed, and incapable of perfecting oneself without the grace of God; moreover, that nothing one does, no matter how good, can match the infinite goodness of God, but that one is, nonetheless, fit to be called a child of God, -- not because one has greatly loved God, but because one has been greatly loved by Him.
This is the paradox of divine marriage: One loves by being open to love.
Like the wolf in the old fairy tale, we may "huff and puff", and work ourselves into a frenzy, but, for all that, we cannot muster up great passions of soul; oceans of love, jungles of sympathy, and so on. We may stretch forth, and spread ourselves thin, for a little while, but we always curl back into that ineffectual, fetal tangle of disappointments from which we began. It is only when we realize that our efforts are useless, that we may discover the use of effortlessness.
It is our tendency to throw our arms in the air, to clasp our hands together, to wring our fists, and beat our chests, as if this would somehow garner the attention of the Most High. We think we must chant until we are blue in the face and our lips are past numb, before He will hear us. But we have always had His attention, and His ear has always been inclined in the direction of our tongue.
If years of meditation are required, it is not because God wishes to make us wait, or because He cannot approach us with greater speed. In fact, God is waiting for us, and is here. It is we who have difficulty perceiving what is directly before our eyes. How much peace He is offering! But we have first to calm down. How much love He exudes! But we have first to be tender. Most of all, we must learn how to be less than nothing; pure instruments of divine receptivity.
We are to listen, and to hear. We are not to speak, but to be spoken through; not to love, but to be channels of a love which bears no boundary and no equal. We must be ruled by something absolutely central to ourselves, yet utterly transcendant of ourselves. We must be fools for the wisdom of the moment, and live without thought of consequence. And all this, which seems to demand so much, demands only that we do nothing, -- or less; be nothing.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Mary
I love what St. Louis de Montefort says of Mary, in the very first pages of his classic work of Marian contemplation. He says that we know so little of her because she is so humble, and that humility led her to desire anonymity during her life, and God granted her request. He says she was capable of the same healings Christ and the Apostles performed, but that her works have been hidden from posterity, because of her great humility, and her desire not to draw attention away from her son.
Moreover, we are told that Jesus could not have been the Son of God, had he not been raised by such a pure and devout woman. Indeed, that God waited until such a pure vessel could be found, before sending his son into the world. Mary is the way to Christ, as Christ is the way to God the Father. Mary will only gain in the world before the time of Christ. She must. He cannot come unless she prepares the way, and gives birth to him, on every level. Thich Naht Hanh speaks about holding our pain like it is a newborn baby... cradling it so tenderly, focusing all our compassion upon it; essentially, becoming mothers to ourselves, and to what is weakest, smallest, youngest, least developed, and most vulnerable within ourselves. It is in this manner that we may prepare the way for the coming of the Lord in his fullness. When we are tender, then we will be given a power which nothing in the world can withstand. Our tenderness is that power, as Mary is the Christ.
I asked a Protestant her opinion. She said, "We respect and appreciate Mary,".
My friends, is this how you speak of your own mother? Do you "respect and appreciate" her? Or do you love her? You love her. Of course you do. Well, then, how much more love might you be capable of feeling for the mother of all mothers; the greatest of all mothers; the mother of God; who loves you infinitely and unconditionally more than your natural mother ever could? Despite her best efforts, and no matter how much she desperately wanted to, your mother could never love you with a fraction of Mary's love, which is God's; for He has placed every grace at her disposal, and appointed her to deliver His gifts, juat as He appointed her to deliver His Son. Mary is the mother of all the Christians, all the children of God, all the siblings of Christ. Your own mother raised you to be in the world, but Mary raises you to be in the Church, and in the kingdom of heaven.
She is the beloved handmaid of God, and the personification of purity, meekness, tenderness, and compassion. We are told that her virtue surpasses that of all the saints, apostles, and disciples, and that she is second only to Jesus, who is God, -- but among mortals she has no equal. What sort of admiration and respect might such a soul evoke within you? I tell you, the only emotion you could experience in the presence of Mary is love; complete and total love; admiration which goes beyond admiration; respect which flys over respect; reverence, humility, and awe which cannot be uttered.
Christ said, "[Had you known me, you would have known the one who sent me, and had you known the Father, you would have known the Son.]" Well, the same may be said of Mary, for had we known her, we would have known Christ who was with her, and had we known the Son we would have known the Mother who nurtured him, who was divinely ordained to minister to him when he was only an infant, and whom he loves.
Persephone and Medusa
In the more popular version, it is said that the God of the Underworld Hades, who is Demeter's brother, once saw Persephone and fell deeply in love with her. In order to win her over, Hades asked for help from his brother Zeus. Together they concocted a plan to trap Persephone. One day, "in the vale of Enna [where] there is a lake embowered in woods which screen it from the fervid rays of the sun, while the moist ground is covered with flowers, and Spring reigns perpetual," (see Works Cited) Persephone played with her companions. At a certain point, Persephone came across a 'cosmic flower' which, once she plucked it, the Earth opened beneath her and stole her into the Underworld. There, she became the wife of Hades and Queen of the Underworld. It is said that, "after much protest, Persephone came to love the cold blooded king of the underworld but her mother, Demeter, was consumed with rage and sorrow.
http://www.arthistory.sbc.edu/imageswomen/papers/paolicchidemeter/demeter.html
What Persephone comes to accept, and even to love, is that darkness is somehow necessary to the light, and that the light is somehow incomplete without the darkness; that there is ...no other heaven, if one cannot find heaven on earth, in the play between both light and shadow. Demeter is a goddess of Springtime, but does not understand or appreciate that the Winter is the very womb of Spring. Persephone, influenced by her mother, goes looking for an eternal Springitime, but in the meadow of eternal Spring, she is inevitably drawn into the contemplation of Winter; the death, decay, compost, and fertilizatio which precedes rebirth. Having allied herself to this wisdom (or having been allied to it, against her will), she now rules over the underworld.
She is a Chironic figure, actually; a wounded one, afflicted by her exposure to both light and dark, and whose ambivalence, or constant attempt to harmonize the two, allows her to become a bridge between the two worlds. While Pluto knows very little about the light, Demeter knows almost nothing about the dark, and Persephone is the simultaneously the strife which separates them, and the common factor, which unites them. They are thesis and antithesis; but she is higher synthesis.
I wonder... does light burn in darkness, only in darkness; is darkness the fuel? There is no fire without some branch, or other matter, on which it may feed. What is the light of a fire, if not a side-effect of the transmutation of dense matter into finer, lighter, more airy forms?... "smoke gets in your eyes"... But if the flames are the workings of desire... then is light only a shadow-show of desire... Then what is left when the world is consumed in flames, and the flames die for lack of fuel... after the light has been extinguished, and the smoke has cleared... what shall we discover in the emptiness... is it God?
And does the flame require fanning.. or is it always burning, since the world's been turning (like Billy Joel says)?... perhaps one must learn how to burn... and how to lose oneself on a plume of smoke... what is below is diminished, or, ra...ther, not diminished, yet it does not remain below, and so our thoughts must not remain below, but learn to rise, out of desire, but beyond desire, and we must learn to become entirely thought, -- spirit not body.
My day-dreams, as I spin them, become so fine, that the fibers must be taken up by astral fingers, and so I fall asleep beneath this tree, where my waking visions may pass into actual dreams, and I may, with subconscious deliberations, comprehend matters which, to my conscious mind, must forever remain obscure.
It is an interesting thought... God is light and dark...but He is FOR the light, and all darkness is for light. All obstacles are fuel. Therefore he is for the darkness, as well as the light -- inasmuch as darkness is for the light "for we can do nothing against the truth but for the truth" ((or are these the ramblings of a madman?)) We think of darkness as something which counters light... but perhaps darkness is that which calls for more light... it is beyond time, beyond words or ideas, beyond duality.. and, yet,.. i do not want to grasp it in the static stillness of nothing; of total collapse... i want to see it dance, to make it dance, to enchant it with song or be enchanted by it.. i want to be the piper.. the mad piper,.. who plays the dance into being, and joins the dance. Of course, mine is not the kind of pipe one blows into... but the kind one inhales from.. still, the music can be sweet :/
Someone asked me, "So do you think Persephone really grew to love Hades? Or was it more of a Stockholm Syndrome type thing?"
Isn't this the ultimate question, again, under another form? Why do we embrace evil? Why do we love our enemies? Is it because we have to? Because they are here, and love is the only worthy response? Or is there something about evil? Oh, I don't mean that it is merely seductive. We are not talking about how a soul might be tempted and lured into becoming a slave to Pluto. We are talking about something else entirely. The Queen of the Underworld, who has sovereignty even in the dark places; she has made peace with evil, become intimate with it, and somehow managed to retain her autonomy, and share rulership over the realm of the dead. So, what has she discovered? Is there something good about evil? Does love perhaps reach its fullest expression only when it is showered upon the lowliest object in the world?
I think the lesson concerns subtlety, and how easy it can be to mistake good for evil, and evil for good. Much that is evil is misunderstood, rejected, hurt. There is power in making use of what others dismiss as evil. Also, it is about flexibility. If virtue is too rigid, it will snap. One cannot be virginal in the world. One has somehow to be immune, and to let the world pass through oneself. To resist nothing, and to retain nothing. To go beyond good and evil, to where there is only God. http://scottfoglesong.printandwebdesign.com/04-deer.pdf
Medusa
Someone asked me, "What was up with all the Greek gods kidnapping and forcing women and goddesses to marry or have sex with them? They're gods, so cant they just seduce them? Why the kidnapping and rape?" I told her about the theory of hybrid mythologies. Basically, the invading culture co-opted the gods of the cultures they were invading. Many of the cultures which perished, or were assimilated. Many of the goddesses were adapted from these cultures, some of them purely goddess-worshipping cultures. As a show of dominance, and to symbolize their overthrow of these cultures, the goddesses and holy women in the legends were raped and made subservient to the gods. See: http://uranianheart.blogspot.com/2011/02/hybrid-mythologies.html
However, it is still possible to reinterpret the myths, in order to put them to higher use. Even if our interpretations were not intended by the authors, they may still be intended by the Creator. For instance, the story of Medusa sounds particularly dreary, but we may interpret it as something altogether more enlightening. The story was told to me: "Medusa was a priestess of Athenas temple. Preistesses of Athena had to be virgins. She was also very beautiful and caught the eye of Poseidon. He tried to seduce her and she refused, so he raped her. No longer being a virgin, and having had sex in Athenas temple, Athena cursed her to be the medusa, turning her beautiful hair to snakes and forcing her to live alone. And then she gets beheaded and her head is brought to Athena." It could mean many things, or the meaning could be lost in a massive tangle of meanings. But, regardless of what has been, let's try to see what we can make out in the here and now. Let's say that the Virgin is Virgo and Poseidon is Pisces. Surely, the watery nature of Pisces always seeps though, and "impregnates" the Virgin, whether it is forcefully or by immaculate consent. Things are not always as they appear. Snakes may represent many things. Perhaps what she found was integration with her animal nature; not a negative thing, but something which nevertheless made her an outcast, or a loner. Losing one's head can be a symbol of the death of the ego, or the thinking self; an enlightenment experience; an experience which brings one back to god; or, in this case, Athena.
Macrocosmic and Microcosmic Revolution (With Reference To Jesus Christ)
Of the upper class, in general, it may be said that, while they are in possession of the resources to control and direct the infrastructures of evil in their society, they are too dependent, addicted, and spoiled to wage the necessary campaigns of independent inquiry and group activism...
Of the middle class, in general, it may be said that, while they are in possession of the resources to unmask and dismantle the infrastructures of evil in their society, they are too comfortable, complacent, and apathetic to wage the necessary campaigns of independent inquiry and group activism...
Of the lower class, in general, it may be said that, while they lack the resources to unmask and dismantle the infrastructures of evil in their society, they are too exhausted, overworked, and despirited to wage the necessary campaigns of independent inquiry and group activism...
Thus, evil continues to take the upper hand in the wider orchestrations of power, both foreign and domestic.
Nevertheless, when full-scale revolutions do occur, they inevitably rise, like human tidal-waves, from the deepest levels of the collective, sweeping all of society up with them.
And what is true in the collective is just as true in the life of individuals.
Each one of us is conflicted, as society is conflicted. We are power hungry, complacent, exhausted, and fed up; we are masters, slaves, and everything in between. Somewhere, in those parts of ourselves which have been most effectively supressed, most disempowered, disinherited, and denied, -- those parts of ourselves for which no advocate may be found, and on behalf of whom every other part of ourselves pretends to speak, -- we are even primed for revolt.
An exploration of external revolution ought to reveal just as much about the psychospiritual process of change within the individual; and vice-versa. What I choose to articulate, as an author, is ostensible; and secondary to what you, as a reader, choose to interpret. If I begin with a study of social movements, it is because I hope these will help to clarify, through magnification, the movements within the individual psyche.
The magnification is one of quantity, not quality; physics, not metaphysics. No doubt, there have been social upheavals and reversals of worldly power which cannot compare in significance to individual enlightenment experiences. Indeed, there have been enlightened individuals whose personal experience of inner transformation catalyzed revolutions in the world which are still underway, thousands of years after the death of the individuals who began them. Inevitably, such catalysts do not so much rise from the ranks, as with them.
What is required, in order for grand, historical shifts to take place, is a collective evolutionary leap, -- characterized, foremost, by a healthy suspicion of authority, and a consequent awareness of the individual's responsibility to test the truth of claims, and the claim of truths, handed down; for there is much that, having been subjected to scrutiny, proves worthy of the claim of truth, and much that is true which, yet, proves unworthy to claim a great share of our sympathy, allegiance, or attention.
The honor reserved for solid gold must be accorded neither to fool's gold, nor to sterling silver. But the economies of the earth are, for the most part, run on less than nothing, -- on chimeras; delusional perceptions, manufactured by ethical mutants; sociopaths, who occupy the chief positions of influence precisely because they have placed nothing before their own avarice and compulsive ambition for power.
With rare exceptions, those who pull the strings (or, rather, the knots, where numerous strings converge), are individuals who have allowed nothing to distract them from the acquisition of power. Intimacy, family, friendship, religion, science, art, philosophy, self-exploration, self-realization, and self-actualization have all been swatted ruthlessly to the curb, and kicked mercilessly into the gutter. Such things are worse than nuisances, -- they are actual encumbrances, -- to a person utterly intoxicated with ambition and completely addicted to controlling others, to worldly notoriety, and to the acquisition of objects intended to symbolize status.
What has no personal significance, to an individual whose only interests are personal, can have no significance for such an individual at all. Hence, what such people annex from their own lives, they will be inclined to annex from the life of a culture. Yet, these are the very things which unsuspecting citizens expect to see authorities protect and nourish in the culture! How long will the citizenry continue to hand the keys to the vaults of their hearts, where all that is most cherished by them is kept, over to the very criminals, who wish, -- not to steal these precious treasures for themselves, but, what is far worse, -- merely to see them obliterated; so that no one in the world may ever profit from them.
Is this not how the very devils like to thieve? For they wish to steal that which is most holy and pleasing to God, and, yet, they have no use -- or, at any rate, no desire, -- for such things themselves. The demon does not filch your hope because he desires it for himself. Even to desire it, he would already have to possess some small quantity of it; which he does not, for he would not be a demon if he did. No, he steals your hope because he desires to see you hopeless, and what he takes he destroys.
This is perhaps the greatest and most revolting irony connected with power. Even most who have come to understand that the economies, governments, and larger institutions of the world are corrupt, have not yet understood the full extent of the corruption. They picture the "elite" as vampires, feeding off of the masses, and getting fat on what ought rightfully to be theirs. But, while this is a fair analogy, as far as economic parasitism is concerned, it fails to capture what is most insidious about these particular ghouls. The absolute worst part of our condition is that the blood we lose feeds no one; that it is sucked from our bodies and spit into the dirt; and worth less than nothing to the ones who gather it only for the sake of squandering it.
What each one of us must discover for ourselves is that our dearest values and principles must not be handed down to us from on high; neither by a parent, a politician, a priest, or a pilgrim claiming to be the Son of God. Rather, they must arise directly from within ourselves, and out of the grist of our own immediate experience of the world.
This is not to deny what was said by Jesus, or by anyone who has tried to share their own experience with others, but, rather, to repeat it; not as a mindless parrot repeats things, but, as one who has tasted the wine may concur with another who has tasted and remarked on it first. Jesus is called "the first fruits" precisely because he is the first to have imbibed and endorsed the holy wine of mystical experience; many have known the way, before and since, but only one has shown it; only one followed the path to the end and returned while the others were still in transit (or transmigration); only one could speak with authority when all others could speak only partial truths.
A distinction perhaps ought to be made between Jesus and The Christ, --
if only for the sake of more clearly understanding the unity which is "Jesus Christ".
What was best in Jesus (the man) was the Christ (God), and he only became "Jesus Christ" by being conformed utterly to what was best in him. The message of the Gospel, that you serve God when you serve one another, is crystalized the instant you realize that what was best in Jesus is also what is best in you. If it were merely in him, then it would have died with him. Christ is risen in you because what was best in Jesus lives on, and takes on new life, within you.
If we take the words of Jesus into our hearts, it is not because we deny our own witness, -- but, on the contrary, because something within our hearts resonates with something in the words, and is as drawn to them as they are to it. That something, in both instances, is The Christ.
When all words, all voices, all sounds, and even silence itself, has lost the power to move us, The Christ will still speak, and will speak more clearly than ever, from the depths of our soul's experience. When we are ready to listen, we listen, and when we listen, we hear. It is the simplest thing in the world, but as long as we are caught up in the impressions of the world, and neglect to honor our own "still small voice", we will not hear it. Then, the message of Jesus, along with our own inner truth, will be subject to distortion, and become just another agent of hypnosis.
Revolution, whether on a mass scale or within the life of the individual, depends upon a willingness to doubt the superficial impressions, and to confront the voice of conviction, in the world or in oneself, with a greater attitude of skepticism.
Indeed, it may be difficult to come up with a more perfect definition of deep meditation, than to say that it is absolute skepticism. In a mysterious sense, there is no difference between absolute skepticism and absolute faith. In doubting the world, we place faith in ourselves; in doubting ourselves, we place faith in that which transcends ourselves, and is deepest in ourselves; in doubting all, we place faith in that which transcends all, and is deepest in all.
Of the middle class, in general, it may be said that, while they are in possession of the resources to unmask and dismantle the infrastructures of evil in their society, they are too comfortable, complacent, and apathetic to wage the necessary campaigns of independent inquiry and group activism...
Of the lower class, in general, it may be said that, while they lack the resources to unmask and dismantle the infrastructures of evil in their society, they are too exhausted, overworked, and despirited to wage the necessary campaigns of independent inquiry and group activism...
Thus, evil continues to take the upper hand in the wider orchestrations of power, both foreign and domestic.
Nevertheless, when full-scale revolutions do occur, they inevitably rise, like human tidal-waves, from the deepest levels of the collective, sweeping all of society up with them.
And what is true in the collective is just as true in the life of individuals.
Each one of us is conflicted, as society is conflicted. We are power hungry, complacent, exhausted, and fed up; we are masters, slaves, and everything in between. Somewhere, in those parts of ourselves which have been most effectively supressed, most disempowered, disinherited, and denied, -- those parts of ourselves for which no advocate may be found, and on behalf of whom every other part of ourselves pretends to speak, -- we are even primed for revolt.
An exploration of external revolution ought to reveal just as much about the psychospiritual process of change within the individual; and vice-versa. What I choose to articulate, as an author, is ostensible; and secondary to what you, as a reader, choose to interpret. If I begin with a study of social movements, it is because I hope these will help to clarify, through magnification, the movements within the individual psyche.
The magnification is one of quantity, not quality; physics, not metaphysics. No doubt, there have been social upheavals and reversals of worldly power which cannot compare in significance to individual enlightenment experiences. Indeed, there have been enlightened individuals whose personal experience of inner transformation catalyzed revolutions in the world which are still underway, thousands of years after the death of the individuals who began them. Inevitably, such catalysts do not so much rise from the ranks, as with them.
What is required, in order for grand, historical shifts to take place, is a collective evolutionary leap, -- characterized, foremost, by a healthy suspicion of authority, and a consequent awareness of the individual's responsibility to test the truth of claims, and the claim of truths, handed down; for there is much that, having been subjected to scrutiny, proves worthy of the claim of truth, and much that is true which, yet, proves unworthy to claim a great share of our sympathy, allegiance, or attention.
The honor reserved for solid gold must be accorded neither to fool's gold, nor to sterling silver. But the economies of the earth are, for the most part, run on less than nothing, -- on chimeras; delusional perceptions, manufactured by ethical mutants; sociopaths, who occupy the chief positions of influence precisely because they have placed nothing before their own avarice and compulsive ambition for power.
With rare exceptions, those who pull the strings (or, rather, the knots, where numerous strings converge), are individuals who have allowed nothing to distract them from the acquisition of power. Intimacy, family, friendship, religion, science, art, philosophy, self-exploration, self-realization, and self-actualization have all been swatted ruthlessly to the curb, and kicked mercilessly into the gutter. Such things are worse than nuisances, -- they are actual encumbrances, -- to a person utterly intoxicated with ambition and completely addicted to controlling others, to worldly notoriety, and to the acquisition of objects intended to symbolize status.
What has no personal significance, to an individual whose only interests are personal, can have no significance for such an individual at all. Hence, what such people annex from their own lives, they will be inclined to annex from the life of a culture. Yet, these are the very things which unsuspecting citizens expect to see authorities protect and nourish in the culture! How long will the citizenry continue to hand the keys to the vaults of their hearts, where all that is most cherished by them is kept, over to the very criminals, who wish, -- not to steal these precious treasures for themselves, but, what is far worse, -- merely to see them obliterated; so that no one in the world may ever profit from them.
Is this not how the very devils like to thieve? For they wish to steal that which is most holy and pleasing to God, and, yet, they have no use -- or, at any rate, no desire, -- for such things themselves. The demon does not filch your hope because he desires it for himself. Even to desire it, he would already have to possess some small quantity of it; which he does not, for he would not be a demon if he did. No, he steals your hope because he desires to see you hopeless, and what he takes he destroys.
This is perhaps the greatest and most revolting irony connected with power. Even most who have come to understand that the economies, governments, and larger institutions of the world are corrupt, have not yet understood the full extent of the corruption. They picture the "elite" as vampires, feeding off of the masses, and getting fat on what ought rightfully to be theirs. But, while this is a fair analogy, as far as economic parasitism is concerned, it fails to capture what is most insidious about these particular ghouls. The absolute worst part of our condition is that the blood we lose feeds no one; that it is sucked from our bodies and spit into the dirt; and worth less than nothing to the ones who gather it only for the sake of squandering it.
What each one of us must discover for ourselves is that our dearest values and principles must not be handed down to us from on high; neither by a parent, a politician, a priest, or a pilgrim claiming to be the Son of God. Rather, they must arise directly from within ourselves, and out of the grist of our own immediate experience of the world.
This is not to deny what was said by Jesus, or by anyone who has tried to share their own experience with others, but, rather, to repeat it; not as a mindless parrot repeats things, but, as one who has tasted the wine may concur with another who has tasted and remarked on it first. Jesus is called "the first fruits" precisely because he is the first to have imbibed and endorsed the holy wine of mystical experience; many have known the way, before and since, but only one has shown it; only one followed the path to the end and returned while the others were still in transit (or transmigration); only one could speak with authority when all others could speak only partial truths.
A distinction perhaps ought to be made between Jesus and The Christ, --
if only for the sake of more clearly understanding the unity which is "Jesus Christ".
What was best in Jesus (the man) was the Christ (God), and he only became "Jesus Christ" by being conformed utterly to what was best in him. The message of the Gospel, that you serve God when you serve one another, is crystalized the instant you realize that what was best in Jesus is also what is best in you. If it were merely in him, then it would have died with him. Christ is risen in you because what was best in Jesus lives on, and takes on new life, within you.
If we take the words of Jesus into our hearts, it is not because we deny our own witness, -- but, on the contrary, because something within our hearts resonates with something in the words, and is as drawn to them as they are to it. That something, in both instances, is The Christ.
When all words, all voices, all sounds, and even silence itself, has lost the power to move us, The Christ will still speak, and will speak more clearly than ever, from the depths of our soul's experience. When we are ready to listen, we listen, and when we listen, we hear. It is the simplest thing in the world, but as long as we are caught up in the impressions of the world, and neglect to honor our own "still small voice", we will not hear it. Then, the message of Jesus, along with our own inner truth, will be subject to distortion, and become just another agent of hypnosis.
Revolution, whether on a mass scale or within the life of the individual, depends upon a willingness to doubt the superficial impressions, and to confront the voice of conviction, in the world or in oneself, with a greater attitude of skepticism.
Indeed, it may be difficult to come up with a more perfect definition of deep meditation, than to say that it is absolute skepticism. In a mysterious sense, there is no difference between absolute skepticism and absolute faith. In doubting the world, we place faith in ourselves; in doubting ourselves, we place faith in that which transcends ourselves, and is deepest in ourselves; in doubting all, we place faith in that which transcends all, and is deepest in all.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Notes For A Discussion With An Atheist
Even if we were to strip prayer of all it's mystical connotations, it would still be a simple adjustment of attitude, conducive to lowering stress levels and orienting oneself in relation to a larger, more comprehensive context or meaning. From a purely psychological standpoint, prayer may be understood as a means of "massaging the unconscious", by taking a romantic approach to the world, making use of symbolism and theatrics, in order to access dormant faculties and catalyze dynamic problem solving. Meditation, or deep prayer, though, is when we relax to such a degree that cognitive and sense impressions are suspended, or superceded, and we experience only the fundamental awareness which underpins all phenomena. The result of devout meditative practice is a significantly deeper connection with oneself, an abiding empathy with all that exists, a strong compassion for all life, and an indescribable, all-pervading calm. This is not an article of faith, nor is it an experiment which may be demonstrated in a laboratory before others; it is an actual experience, which is incommunicable, but which every individual may acquire for themselves; provided that they possess the desire, will, or discipline to put in the effort. Tens of thousands have already done so. The peace they exude, the joy they give, and the civility with which they unerringly conduct themselves, all pay witness, even more than the incomparable beauty of their utterances, to the profound reality and practical value of mystical experience.
The proper interpretation of Christ's teaching is that the service of mankind is sacred; in religious terms, it is the service desired by "God" (as opposed to empty rituals, sacrifical offerings, or dogmatic assertions, as alleged in the Old Testament).
Jesus of Nazareth was what Oscar Wilde called him; the greatest romantic, and the prototype for all future romantics. He was not insane, nor unrealistic, but he spoke in the only language of his time (i.e. religious language; specifically, Judaism); both clarifying and reinterpreting it's sayings and symbols, in order to articulate universal principles which his people would otherwise be entirely -- as opposed to almost enitrely -- incapable of hearing.
As a romantic, he also understood that this language, althought misleading to the foolish and the unimaginative, is highly poetical, and that poetry is not something we need to strip away from life in the name of "science". Rather, there is perhaps no more sublime way of life than to see, consider, and interpret, oneself as a beloved child of God. Also, to see, consider, and interpret God as more than an abstract postulation of "oneness"; but, rather, as a Father who wants only to give us love; who, out of love, gives us this freedom to explore the myriad happenings, and ourselves, -- or, if we so choose, to settle down into the heart of the deep nature of things; into deep silence, the core, or ground of being, where our consciousness seems to be, or to become, united with God, and perhaps is God, or does become Him; some ineffablely peaceful and complete affirmation of being.
At least, this is the testimony of all the mystics, who have made the experiment of devout meditation, and they are, after all, the ones we ought to be consulting on this; not the masses. Just as we would not expect the masses calling themselves good citizens to know what a good citizen is, neither should we accept the popular conception of Chnristianity as anything but a misconception, a distortion, and a slander against what it means to be a true Christian. "I, for my part, do not wish to make the mistake of blaming Christianity for what men have done to it." ~ C.G. Jung
Repentance was made for man, not man for repentance. If God wants us to acknowledge our errors, and resolve to live more virtuous lives, it is not for His sake, or for the sake of any heaven, but for our own sake. Jesus came not to lead righteous men to heaven, but sinners to repentance, that they may become righteous. For the righteous already have their reward; to be good is it's own reward. What could be more effective proof than this of the reality of God: That goodness is superior to evil; peace to strife; love to hate; etc. What better proof is that that good triumphs over evil, that God is in His heaven, and Christ has risen?
Men like to speak of "the devil" and of "God" when it suits them, but they will insist they use these words in a figurative sense only. What they do not understand is that the only difference between their way of seeing and the visionary wa...y of seeing, is that the visionary recognizes the reality of the figurative. It is not real in the same way as the literal, but it nevertheless has a palpable existence. We may debate whether or not it is fact, but we cannot deny that it is truth.
Science is great, sure. But let's not ignore that Social Darwinism, Eugenics, and many of the atrocities of Nazi Germany and Communist Russia were inspired, not by religion, but by science and secular thinking. Granted, they were perversions, and not true science, and we must not look to slander science on their account. But, then, neither should we slander religion on account of its perversions, if we are being fair-minded. There are many "god-men" because it is a profound archetype that rightly belongs at the heart of our culture. Right now, Jesus is the god-man. Perhaps in another thousand years or when another civilization takes over, there will be another god-man by another name, but he will still be the Christ. No doubt a man will appear who will live such an exemplary life that a concensus will form that he is God, or a son of God, or onesent by God (however we wish to articulate it). And he will wear the crown for the next age, just as Jesus is the Christ, the annointed, the crowned, for this age, and just as Horus was for the Egyptians. Who has ears to hear, let them hear. ;)
This is what small minds never comprehend: That the truth of one interpretation does not necessarily exclude the truth of other interpretations. And, indeed, when you are confronting the greatest mysteries, it makes perfect sense to discover that they are multifacted, like diamonds, and that different facets of truth may be glimpsed from different sides. The fool is the one who sees only one side, and proceeds to proclaim that as THE TRUTH, and all other interpretations as false. Is Chrsit the Sun? You bet he is. Is the zodiac involved? Fuck yeah. And the more you look, the more you will find. This is the very nature of divine mystery. So go ahead and tell what you see, but, by all means, keep looking.
Thanks, but I still think you might be missing a piece of this puzzle. The ancients were not all primitive, and much of what is handed down to us is more than moral allegory. Symbols have been used since time immemorial to tap into deep psych...ological forces. Religion, properly practiced, is not only a form of science, but may be the highest expression of science. Have you read the little book "The Science of Religion" by Paramahansa Yogananda? He is ostensibly a Hindu, and I believe he makes use of various mantras, names, etc., but the primary focus is on the discipline of Kriya Yoga. Scientists are fond of speaking of rigorous experiments, but how many have the discipline to sit still for hours at a time? This is what we are told is required to experience for oneself the truth of higher realities, astral projection, mystical oneness. We are talking about tapping into energies which make men into powerhouses of virtue. George Fox, founded of the Quakers, spent many years in prisons, in the 1600's, in the worst imaginable conditions, he was beaten everywhere he went, but for decades he travelled and preached and made peace between groups of men and individuals. There are thousands of examples of religious men and women who lived this way. I honestly have yet to encounter stories of secular heroes like this.
If I give my father a "World's Greatest Dad" t-shirt... is that "choosing a team"? Should that be seen as pressumptuous or as a cause for strife? Or is it, perhaps, endearing? He is, after all, my father, and to me he is the greatest dad. And in order for me to have a strong loving bond with him, I can continuously tell myself that he is no better or worse than any other dad, or that there are some who are better some who are worse, etc. No, I naturally train my affections to the one who I have that personal relationship. And I do not begrudge anyone else their right to have a different father, or to call their father the greatest.
In Hinduism, this is much better understood than in the West.... They have something called a "chosen ideal".. You see, Hinduism is a religion by itself but it is even more like a whole bunch of religions working together -- just what you are envisioning -- it has already been done for hundreds, maybe thousands, of years in India. They have an entire pantheon of gods, but each individual chooses one.. one god who resonates with them, who has special significance for them... and then that god, or image, becomes a representation of Brahma, the One God with many faces, and they worship Brahma, who is ultimately formless, in the form of the avatar.... "Mother, don't make me unconscious through the Knowledge of Brahman. Don't give me Brahmajnana, Mother. Am I not Your child, and naturally timid? I must have my mother. A million salutations to the Knowledge of Brahman! Give it to those who want it. O Mother, let me remain in contact with men! Don't make me a dried-up ascetic. I want to enjoy Your sport in the world." (~Sri Ramakrishna)
When Ram Dass went to meet his guru in India, the man tried to send him away. He said, "What are you Americans doing here? Christ is your guru."
The real voyage of discovery is within. The only true mastery is self-mastery. This is the end of all true science and all true religion. What we are after is inner peace. Whether we find it in a laboratory or in an ashram. The fact is, the scientists have not found it. They keep telling us they will find it, and religion is just primitive science. Meanwhile scientists are treating symptoms, not finding the core of man's anxiety. Brilliant men and woment of science, as we speak, as inventing all sorts of synthetic chemicals which will make us more sick, because they trust the authroties who employ them, and -- dammit, they trust science. All in the name of science! Let's clone corn until it is utterly devoid of mineral content, in the name of science! But down with religion, with produces men like Vincent de Paul, who changed the world and the concept of charity, or Francis of Assis, who did likewise. Shall we just assume that all these people who seem so peaceful, who never raise their voices in anger, who speak only of compassion and forgiveness, who bless their enemies as they are being tortured, and still praise the goodness and holiness of the human spirit, -- shall we assume these are just primitive scientists, and not model human beings? Is that what you are asking me to do?
You can do more when you are centered. This is the central thrust of all tru religion. It is not about doing, but being. Think about it. Why do people do anything? The do things only in order to be; to be peaceful; to be content; to be happy; to be secure; etc. Well, what if they could bypass the doing and simply learn how to be? To be still and look out at the world with proper emotions. "Your industriousness is a fleeing from self; you have not the capacity for idleness." (~Nietzsche) http://www.youtube.com/watch?=JRv6aFi_5nY
I am a theist, or rather a mystic, or rather a mystical-theist. To may of thinking, this does not impolitely exclude atheism, agnosticism, pantheism, or anything else. As I understand it, these are simply different ways of looking at the world, and Christianity, in particular, is the lens which best fits me and allows me to see clearly; although I am quite aware that it may only cloud the vision of some. I do try to make clear to them what I see, -- the value I see, -- in Christianity.
Most of all, I don't think it is going away; like it or not, Christianity is a formidable entity within the collective; stradling the past, present, and future. I believe people like myself are especially needed, to help point "The Church" in the right direction, as it has been veering off-course for some time. I don't think sinking it is the answer. No one aboard is asking to be rescued, although some are jumping ship (and who can blame them). I don't like when atheists attempt to play pirate, so to speak, to commandeer the ship in the authority of science. All they want, all they know, is to turn it around. Make it not a ship (that is, a Church, afloat on the mystical sea which is God), but a house, on dry land. They see one shipwreck and they say, "The sea is off-limits to sensible men!" Perhaps it is so, and I would rather be senseless.
In truth, religion is not religion without science; and science is not science without religion. They are two wings of the same bird. What the philosopher-poet and 'Prophet of Romanticism', Novalis, wrote about philosophers and poets may be even more relevant for atheists and theists: "The division between philosopher and poet is merely apparent, and to the disadvantage of both. It is a sign of disease, and of a sickly constitution." Something to consider.
The religious, or reverent, approach to life is all-too often absent from scientific exploration, and the scientific approach is all-too often absent from religious exploration. My sense is that what divides them is not a pure contradiction; it is not a war, and cannot possibly be a war; there would be no winner; we would destry one another. What happens, historically, when there is such a dialectic, running right down the center of a culture, is that, even when one side appears to gain the upper hand, the other side remains a strong, subversive undercurrent until it is assimilated and some new manner of synthesis is acheived.
I want to say something about this idea os "sky gods". Yes, it all sounds very absurd, but then perhaps it is only what we think of it that is absurd. Religious terminology is, by nature, symbolic. Could it be that these atheists who laugh at the notion of sky gods are falling into the same trap they wish fundamentalists to avoid? The trap of literalism? God is not above you, He is not all around you, nor is He within you, yet these are all ways of indicating His ineffable nature. Words can only indicate things and parts of things, but God is beyond things, by definiteion. If you want to get "scientific" about it, God is not a He, nor is God God. The Upanishads say "God is and is not." This truth may also be expressed as "No God is God". Whatever there is, that is God, and yet God is always infinitely more than whatever is. You can't argue with this because it is a definition; you are in no position to negate it, because it is nothing if not an affirmation; you can only decide whether or not to accept and apply the definition/affirmation. If life is sacred to you, you should have no problem understanding why a sane person would want to use words like "God", "reverence", "prayer", "blessing, "grace", "worshipful", "divine" to describe something which trascends all descriptions.
Asking God for forgiveness and mercy is like asking the sun for light and heat; these belong to the incoprruptible nature of Divinity itself, and while clouds of ignorance may cast shadows of guilt over the souls of men, the sun does not go black, nor does the Lord condemn. Nonethless, man has need of repentance for his own sake, just as he must confess to having some need for the warm rays of the sun, and the fresh air of day, if he is to tear himself from the couch, and place himself where these salutary conditions may reach him. Is it some mark against the sun, that it shines only out of doors? Is it so unfair to say that, if a man will not go out to meet the sun, he has only himself to blame? For though we like to say that, unlike sunlight, God's grace is capable of reaching anywhere, God Himself has determined the boundaries that are just. And though He is surely capable of blessing all things, the proper place of man is to align himself with those paths which God's grace has already blessed. For it is unworthy of the majesty of God, that sin should be made more aggreeable, or mediocrity be crowned with the laurel. Rather, His nature is to call sinners from darkness into light, and to adorn all righteousness with glory.
The proper interpretation of Christ's teaching is that the service of mankind is sacred; in religious terms, it is the service desired by "God" (as opposed to empty rituals, sacrifical offerings, or dogmatic assertions, as alleged in the Old Testament).
Jesus of Nazareth was what Oscar Wilde called him; the greatest romantic, and the prototype for all future romantics. He was not insane, nor unrealistic, but he spoke in the only language of his time (i.e. religious language; specifically, Judaism); both clarifying and reinterpreting it's sayings and symbols, in order to articulate universal principles which his people would otherwise be entirely -- as opposed to almost enitrely -- incapable of hearing.
As a romantic, he also understood that this language, althought misleading to the foolish and the unimaginative, is highly poetical, and that poetry is not something we need to strip away from life in the name of "science". Rather, there is perhaps no more sublime way of life than to see, consider, and interpret, oneself as a beloved child of God. Also, to see, consider, and interpret God as more than an abstract postulation of "oneness"; but, rather, as a Father who wants only to give us love; who, out of love, gives us this freedom to explore the myriad happenings, and ourselves, -- or, if we so choose, to settle down into the heart of the deep nature of things; into deep silence, the core, or ground of being, where our consciousness seems to be, or to become, united with God, and perhaps is God, or does become Him; some ineffablely peaceful and complete affirmation of being.
At least, this is the testimony of all the mystics, who have made the experiment of devout meditation, and they are, after all, the ones we ought to be consulting on this; not the masses. Just as we would not expect the masses calling themselves good citizens to know what a good citizen is, neither should we accept the popular conception of Chnristianity as anything but a misconception, a distortion, and a slander against what it means to be a true Christian. "I, for my part, do not wish to make the mistake of blaming Christianity for what men have done to it." ~ C.G. Jung
Repentance was made for man, not man for repentance. If God wants us to acknowledge our errors, and resolve to live more virtuous lives, it is not for His sake, or for the sake of any heaven, but for our own sake. Jesus came not to lead righteous men to heaven, but sinners to repentance, that they may become righteous. For the righteous already have their reward; to be good is it's own reward. What could be more effective proof than this of the reality of God: That goodness is superior to evil; peace to strife; love to hate; etc. What better proof is that that good triumphs over evil, that God is in His heaven, and Christ has risen?
Men like to speak of "the devil" and of "God" when it suits them, but they will insist they use these words in a figurative sense only. What they do not understand is that the only difference between their way of seeing and the visionary wa...y of seeing, is that the visionary recognizes the reality of the figurative. It is not real in the same way as the literal, but it nevertheless has a palpable existence. We may debate whether or not it is fact, but we cannot deny that it is truth.
Science is great, sure. But let's not ignore that Social Darwinism, Eugenics, and many of the atrocities of Nazi Germany and Communist Russia were inspired, not by religion, but by science and secular thinking. Granted, they were perversions, and not true science, and we must not look to slander science on their account. But, then, neither should we slander religion on account of its perversions, if we are being fair-minded. There are many "god-men" because it is a profound archetype that rightly belongs at the heart of our culture. Right now, Jesus is the god-man. Perhaps in another thousand years or when another civilization takes over, there will be another god-man by another name, but he will still be the Christ. No doubt a man will appear who will live such an exemplary life that a concensus will form that he is God, or a son of God, or onesent by God (however we wish to articulate it). And he will wear the crown for the next age, just as Jesus is the Christ, the annointed, the crowned, for this age, and just as Horus was for the Egyptians. Who has ears to hear, let them hear. ;)
This is what small minds never comprehend: That the truth of one interpretation does not necessarily exclude the truth of other interpretations. And, indeed, when you are confronting the greatest mysteries, it makes perfect sense to discover that they are multifacted, like diamonds, and that different facets of truth may be glimpsed from different sides. The fool is the one who sees only one side, and proceeds to proclaim that as THE TRUTH, and all other interpretations as false. Is Chrsit the Sun? You bet he is. Is the zodiac involved? Fuck yeah. And the more you look, the more you will find. This is the very nature of divine mystery. So go ahead and tell what you see, but, by all means, keep looking.
Thanks, but I still think you might be missing a piece of this puzzle. The ancients were not all primitive, and much of what is handed down to us is more than moral allegory. Symbols have been used since time immemorial to tap into deep psych...ological forces. Religion, properly practiced, is not only a form of science, but may be the highest expression of science. Have you read the little book "The Science of Religion" by Paramahansa Yogananda? He is ostensibly a Hindu, and I believe he makes use of various mantras, names, etc., but the primary focus is on the discipline of Kriya Yoga. Scientists are fond of speaking of rigorous experiments, but how many have the discipline to sit still for hours at a time? This is what we are told is required to experience for oneself the truth of higher realities, astral projection, mystical oneness. We are talking about tapping into energies which make men into powerhouses of virtue. George Fox, founded of the Quakers, spent many years in prisons, in the 1600's, in the worst imaginable conditions, he was beaten everywhere he went, but for decades he travelled and preached and made peace between groups of men and individuals. There are thousands of examples of religious men and women who lived this way. I honestly have yet to encounter stories of secular heroes like this.
If I give my father a "World's Greatest Dad" t-shirt... is that "choosing a team"? Should that be seen as pressumptuous or as a cause for strife? Or is it, perhaps, endearing? He is, after all, my father, and to me he is the greatest dad. And in order for me to have a strong loving bond with him, I can continuously tell myself that he is no better or worse than any other dad, or that there are some who are better some who are worse, etc. No, I naturally train my affections to the one who I have that personal relationship. And I do not begrudge anyone else their right to have a different father, or to call their father the greatest.
In Hinduism, this is much better understood than in the West.... They have something called a "chosen ideal".. You see, Hinduism is a religion by itself but it is even more like a whole bunch of religions working together -- just what you are envisioning -- it has already been done for hundreds, maybe thousands, of years in India. They have an entire pantheon of gods, but each individual chooses one.. one god who resonates with them, who has special significance for them... and then that god, or image, becomes a representation of Brahma, the One God with many faces, and they worship Brahma, who is ultimately formless, in the form of the avatar.... "Mother, don't make me unconscious through the Knowledge of Brahman. Don't give me Brahmajnana, Mother. Am I not Your child, and naturally timid? I must have my mother. A million salutations to the Knowledge of Brahman! Give it to those who want it. O Mother, let me remain in contact with men! Don't make me a dried-up ascetic. I want to enjoy Your sport in the world." (~Sri Ramakrishna)
When Ram Dass went to meet his guru in India, the man tried to send him away. He said, "What are you Americans doing here? Christ is your guru."
The real voyage of discovery is within. The only true mastery is self-mastery. This is the end of all true science and all true religion. What we are after is inner peace. Whether we find it in a laboratory or in an ashram. The fact is, the scientists have not found it. They keep telling us they will find it, and religion is just primitive science. Meanwhile scientists are treating symptoms, not finding the core of man's anxiety. Brilliant men and woment of science, as we speak, as inventing all sorts of synthetic chemicals which will make us more sick, because they trust the authroties who employ them, and -- dammit, they trust science. All in the name of science! Let's clone corn until it is utterly devoid of mineral content, in the name of science! But down with religion, with produces men like Vincent de Paul, who changed the world and the concept of charity, or Francis of Assis, who did likewise. Shall we just assume that all these people who seem so peaceful, who never raise their voices in anger, who speak only of compassion and forgiveness, who bless their enemies as they are being tortured, and still praise the goodness and holiness of the human spirit, -- shall we assume these are just primitive scientists, and not model human beings? Is that what you are asking me to do?
You can do more when you are centered. This is the central thrust of all tru religion. It is not about doing, but being. Think about it. Why do people do anything? The do things only in order to be; to be peaceful; to be content; to be happy; to be secure; etc. Well, what if they could bypass the doing and simply learn how to be? To be still and look out at the world with proper emotions. "Your industriousness is a fleeing from self; you have not the capacity for idleness." (~Nietzsche) http://www.youtube.com/watch?=JRv6aFi_5nY
I am a theist, or rather a mystic, or rather a mystical-theist. To may of thinking, this does not impolitely exclude atheism, agnosticism, pantheism, or anything else. As I understand it, these are simply different ways of looking at the world, and Christianity, in particular, is the lens which best fits me and allows me to see clearly; although I am quite aware that it may only cloud the vision of some. I do try to make clear to them what I see, -- the value I see, -- in Christianity.
Most of all, I don't think it is going away; like it or not, Christianity is a formidable entity within the collective; stradling the past, present, and future. I believe people like myself are especially needed, to help point "The Church" in the right direction, as it has been veering off-course for some time. I don't think sinking it is the answer. No one aboard is asking to be rescued, although some are jumping ship (and who can blame them). I don't like when atheists attempt to play pirate, so to speak, to commandeer the ship in the authority of science. All they want, all they know, is to turn it around. Make it not a ship (that is, a Church, afloat on the mystical sea which is God), but a house, on dry land. They see one shipwreck and they say, "The sea is off-limits to sensible men!" Perhaps it is so, and I would rather be senseless.
In truth, religion is not religion without science; and science is not science without religion. They are two wings of the same bird. What the philosopher-poet and 'Prophet of Romanticism', Novalis, wrote about philosophers and poets may be even more relevant for atheists and theists: "The division between philosopher and poet is merely apparent, and to the disadvantage of both. It is a sign of disease, and of a sickly constitution." Something to consider.
The religious, or reverent, approach to life is all-too often absent from scientific exploration, and the scientific approach is all-too often absent from religious exploration. My sense is that what divides them is not a pure contradiction; it is not a war, and cannot possibly be a war; there would be no winner; we would destry one another. What happens, historically, when there is such a dialectic, running right down the center of a culture, is that, even when one side appears to gain the upper hand, the other side remains a strong, subversive undercurrent until it is assimilated and some new manner of synthesis is acheived.
I want to say something about this idea os "sky gods". Yes, it all sounds very absurd, but then perhaps it is only what we think of it that is absurd. Religious terminology is, by nature, symbolic. Could it be that these atheists who laugh at the notion of sky gods are falling into the same trap they wish fundamentalists to avoid? The trap of literalism? God is not above you, He is not all around you, nor is He within you, yet these are all ways of indicating His ineffable nature. Words can only indicate things and parts of things, but God is beyond things, by definiteion. If you want to get "scientific" about it, God is not a He, nor is God God. The Upanishads say "God is and is not." This truth may also be expressed as "No God is God". Whatever there is, that is God, and yet God is always infinitely more than whatever is. You can't argue with this because it is a definition; you are in no position to negate it, because it is nothing if not an affirmation; you can only decide whether or not to accept and apply the definition/affirmation. If life is sacred to you, you should have no problem understanding why a sane person would want to use words like "God", "reverence", "prayer", "blessing, "grace", "worshipful", "divine" to describe something which trascends all descriptions.
Asking God for forgiveness and mercy is like asking the sun for light and heat; these belong to the incoprruptible nature of Divinity itself, and while clouds of ignorance may cast shadows of guilt over the souls of men, the sun does not go black, nor does the Lord condemn. Nonethless, man has need of repentance for his own sake, just as he must confess to having some need for the warm rays of the sun, and the fresh air of day, if he is to tear himself from the couch, and place himself where these salutary conditions may reach him. Is it some mark against the sun, that it shines only out of doors? Is it so unfair to say that, if a man will not go out to meet the sun, he has only himself to blame? For though we like to say that, unlike sunlight, God's grace is capable of reaching anywhere, God Himself has determined the boundaries that are just. And though He is surely capable of blessing all things, the proper place of man is to align himself with those paths which God's grace has already blessed. For it is unworthy of the majesty of God, that sin should be made more aggreeable, or mediocrity be crowned with the laurel. Rather, His nature is to call sinners from darkness into light, and to adorn all righteousness with glory.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
The Golloth
[Just a stupid little story I wrote after watching a documentary on H.P. Lovecraft]
It must have been close to 4am when the fever overcame the last of my mortal defenses, and dragged me down into the cold sarcophagus of near-death. Not more than a foot away, stood the clock on my nightstand, yet, in my delirius state, I could not have seen it, nor understood what it told me, nor, indeed, harbored any consistent notion of time. I am told only, by those who were present, that it was some time before dawn that my face turned white as chalk, my eyes rolled back inside my head, and the sweat formed so copiously on my brow that it could scarcely be wiped dry before new beads began to well-up from the skin. This is what they saw, but now I will tell you what I myself encountered, in the far depths of my delirium.
I seemed to find myself surrounded by infinite darkness. Even the "ground" on which I stood appeared to be nothing; a kind of darkness. I had no consciousness of my illness, nor that my body was presently lying prone in a bed, in a well-lit room, populated by several doctors, nurses, and servants. No such lucidity occured. Still, there was something about the experience which did not resemble any dream or hallucination with which I had hitherto met. Rather, there was a versimilitude which defied explanation. I must confess that the realm in which I found myself, despite the fact that it contained no discernable shapes or sounds (not initially, anyway), seemed to me more real, --frighteningly more real, -- than the very world from which I'd been taken.
I cannot say how long I stood there in the darkness, struck by the simultaneous reality and unreality of the place, before the creature appeared before me. Nor can I attribute its appearance to any conscious thought or expectation which might have precipitated it. Whatever the reason for the encounter, I am certain only that what was not there one moment, was suddenly before me in the next moment.
You will have to forgive me, if I cannot convey to you the immense proportions and the hideousness of the thing, for it seemed to overfill my vision with its ugliness, and spill itself beyond the borders of periphery. At the same time, I could feel my perception adjust and expand, at lightning speed, as if to contain the phenomenon, -- though there always seemed some part of it still hidden in the pitch.
There before me ranged the most terrible, over-arching creature; neither lizard nor crustacean, yet, as though it were, some unholy offspring of the two. The abomination, which could only have sprung from the madness and filth of an ancient demiurgic evil, lurched suddenly, as if wretching, and curled forward with a kind of drunken, squirmy limp. I retraced my steps slowly, hoping not to provoke the monstrous juggernaut.
If only I had known...
Such things require no provocation, but if they do not give way to violence at once, it is only to relish for a moment the fear of their victim. I have since come to understand the nature of their malady. What fuels their unbounded contempt for mankind is simply an emotion akin to boredom, malaise, or ennui, yet far more sinister; having been nursed over countless oceans of time.
It is their very power, too incredible for human minds to conceive, which finally encumbers them; for they are hunters, whose first love was always the chase, and now they have nothing left to chase. Through aeons, they chased and grew strong; so strong, that a time came when nothing they encountered in the universe could pose the least challenge to their authority. They had become like vast whales, which had barely to open their mouths, in order to swallow up entire schools of planets. The universe held no real interest for them, and they were incapable of dying. Their only mild amusement consisted of this vicious toying with the other creatures.
At the time, though, I knew none of this, and only many subesquent years of occult research has convinced me of what it was I encountered that night.
All at once, the cloak of shadow fell away, and the body of the great monster came within full view. A shock tore through me as giant, greyish-pink appendages unfurled themselves to reveal undulating membranes, transluscent, and slick with oily discharge, and as the creature gave a deafening roar; a gutteral, rattling squeal, which seemed to rise, from a great distance, out of the very pit of Hell.
Such terror as I felt cannot be described or in any way set down. I hold it, or, rather, it holds me, still. I do not think it will ever let go.
It is always at this point in the story, whenever I tell it, that my listeners begin to chafe at the bit. "What happened, next?","Did the beast not attack?", "How is it that you are still alive?" And I must somehow find a way to explain what, to them, is almost impossible to comprehend.
The creature did attack, though he did nothing more than what has already been described, and I myself, while still biologically alive, am paralyzed in soul; a fate, in many ways, far worse than death. For the call of the beast, the vibration of it, passed through my being, and not only the cells of my physical body, but the noetic structure of my astral and etheric bodies were all equally thrown into disarray.
Now my psychic structure is as a tattered shirt, and the divergent winds of creation pass through me; all my thoughts are sputtering threads, pulled this way and that. I am a kind of ghost, yet even ghosts are not kept in physical bonds...
In my nightmares -- and all my waking hours have turned to nightmares -- I cannot throw off the image of that demonic thing, nor the sound which echoes through my brain and all it touches. I would take my life this very moment, were I not terrified that I might thereby make myself an altogether more attractive target for similar dark entities.
It would be a gross error to think that I escaped the clutches of death, when my fever broke the next moring. I have escaped nothing. The cruel stare of death never removes itself; it is always conscious of me, as I am of it; it is always waiting; and may always be immanent.
It must have been close to 4am when the fever overcame the last of my mortal defenses, and dragged me down into the cold sarcophagus of near-death. Not more than a foot away, stood the clock on my nightstand, yet, in my delirius state, I could not have seen it, nor understood what it told me, nor, indeed, harbored any consistent notion of time. I am told only, by those who were present, that it was some time before dawn that my face turned white as chalk, my eyes rolled back inside my head, and the sweat formed so copiously on my brow that it could scarcely be wiped dry before new beads began to well-up from the skin. This is what they saw, but now I will tell you what I myself encountered, in the far depths of my delirium.
I seemed to find myself surrounded by infinite darkness. Even the "ground" on which I stood appeared to be nothing; a kind of darkness. I had no consciousness of my illness, nor that my body was presently lying prone in a bed, in a well-lit room, populated by several doctors, nurses, and servants. No such lucidity occured. Still, there was something about the experience which did not resemble any dream or hallucination with which I had hitherto met. Rather, there was a versimilitude which defied explanation. I must confess that the realm in which I found myself, despite the fact that it contained no discernable shapes or sounds (not initially, anyway), seemed to me more real, --frighteningly more real, -- than the very world from which I'd been taken.
I cannot say how long I stood there in the darkness, struck by the simultaneous reality and unreality of the place, before the creature appeared before me. Nor can I attribute its appearance to any conscious thought or expectation which might have precipitated it. Whatever the reason for the encounter, I am certain only that what was not there one moment, was suddenly before me in the next moment.
You will have to forgive me, if I cannot convey to you the immense proportions and the hideousness of the thing, for it seemed to overfill my vision with its ugliness, and spill itself beyond the borders of periphery. At the same time, I could feel my perception adjust and expand, at lightning speed, as if to contain the phenomenon, -- though there always seemed some part of it still hidden in the pitch.
There before me ranged the most terrible, over-arching creature; neither lizard nor crustacean, yet, as though it were, some unholy offspring of the two. The abomination, which could only have sprung from the madness and filth of an ancient demiurgic evil, lurched suddenly, as if wretching, and curled forward with a kind of drunken, squirmy limp. I retraced my steps slowly, hoping not to provoke the monstrous juggernaut.
If only I had known...
Such things require no provocation, but if they do not give way to violence at once, it is only to relish for a moment the fear of their victim. I have since come to understand the nature of their malady. What fuels their unbounded contempt for mankind is simply an emotion akin to boredom, malaise, or ennui, yet far more sinister; having been nursed over countless oceans of time.
It is their very power, too incredible for human minds to conceive, which finally encumbers them; for they are hunters, whose first love was always the chase, and now they have nothing left to chase. Through aeons, they chased and grew strong; so strong, that a time came when nothing they encountered in the universe could pose the least challenge to their authority. They had become like vast whales, which had barely to open their mouths, in order to swallow up entire schools of planets. The universe held no real interest for them, and they were incapable of dying. Their only mild amusement consisted of this vicious toying with the other creatures.
At the time, though, I knew none of this, and only many subesquent years of occult research has convinced me of what it was I encountered that night.
All at once, the cloak of shadow fell away, and the body of the great monster came within full view. A shock tore through me as giant, greyish-pink appendages unfurled themselves to reveal undulating membranes, transluscent, and slick with oily discharge, and as the creature gave a deafening roar; a gutteral, rattling squeal, which seemed to rise, from a great distance, out of the very pit of Hell.
Such terror as I felt cannot be described or in any way set down. I hold it, or, rather, it holds me, still. I do not think it will ever let go.
It is always at this point in the story, whenever I tell it, that my listeners begin to chafe at the bit. "What happened, next?","Did the beast not attack?", "How is it that you are still alive?" And I must somehow find a way to explain what, to them, is almost impossible to comprehend.
The creature did attack, though he did nothing more than what has already been described, and I myself, while still biologically alive, am paralyzed in soul; a fate, in many ways, far worse than death. For the call of the beast, the vibration of it, passed through my being, and not only the cells of my physical body, but the noetic structure of my astral and etheric bodies were all equally thrown into disarray.
Now my psychic structure is as a tattered shirt, and the divergent winds of creation pass through me; all my thoughts are sputtering threads, pulled this way and that. I am a kind of ghost, yet even ghosts are not kept in physical bonds...
In my nightmares -- and all my waking hours have turned to nightmares -- I cannot throw off the image of that demonic thing, nor the sound which echoes through my brain and all it touches. I would take my life this very moment, were I not terrified that I might thereby make myself an altogether more attractive target for similar dark entities.
It would be a gross error to think that I escaped the clutches of death, when my fever broke the next moring. I have escaped nothing. The cruel stare of death never removes itself; it is always conscious of me, as I am of it; it is always waiting; and may always be immanent.
Friday, March 23, 2012
For Kristen
I choose you
because you choose to be with me
when I'm down.
And say,
"Everyone's down, sometimes."
And,
"Everyone comes around."
You know what's up,
and what's underground.
You won't shackle with a wedding band,
or make a prison cell of a marriage bed.
You are happiest when you share yourself;
if you must be alone, it is to replenish your pools,
that you may again enjoy the pleasure of giving.
When I apologize for the weed I smoke,
you say, "Everybody's got something."
And, "Nobody's perfect."
You don't act like you said anything,
or like you loved.
You walk without a sound.
Humility without humility;
stripped even of itself.
(Moon in the 12th Conjunct Neptune)
You sweeten when you know I like something;
take pleasure in seeing me take pleasure.
Your smile crimps like a child's,
and there is a softness around the corners
which, to a brute, can only be angelic.
Every minute is Christmas morning.
I have never felt this happiness in being close.
I've felt passion like this;
romance, anxiety and expectation...
But never such peculiar joy, arising everywhere.
Your breasts shine like full fruits.
A thousand colors that aren't there
shine inside my head.
I am curled inside the husk of you,
bending over me like the crescent moon.
Your calm contains my flight;
my desire fills your gentleness with light.
I have learned to run,
so I might fall at your feet,
a wild thing, and let you tame me.
Beat my legs into ploughshares and pruning hooks.
Touch me until I forget the war,
and the way men are to one another.
You say, "I like being a woman."
And I tell you, "You're good at it."
I don't understand how you can be so soft,
and so much stronger than me.
because you choose to be with me
when I'm down.
And say,
"Everyone's down, sometimes."
And,
"Everyone comes around."
You know what's up,
and what's underground.
You won't shackle with a wedding band,
or make a prison cell of a marriage bed.
You are happiest when you share yourself;
if you must be alone, it is to replenish your pools,
that you may again enjoy the pleasure of giving.
When I apologize for the weed I smoke,
you say, "Everybody's got something."
And, "Nobody's perfect."
You don't act like you said anything,
or like you loved.
You walk without a sound.
Humility without humility;
stripped even of itself.
(Moon in the 12th Conjunct Neptune)
You sweeten when you know I like something;
take pleasure in seeing me take pleasure.
Your smile crimps like a child's,
and there is a softness around the corners
which, to a brute, can only be angelic.
Every minute is Christmas morning.
I have never felt this happiness in being close.
I've felt passion like this;
romance, anxiety and expectation...
But never such peculiar joy, arising everywhere.
Your breasts shine like full fruits.
A thousand colors that aren't there
shine inside my head.
I am curled inside the husk of you,
bending over me like the crescent moon.
Your calm contains my flight;
my desire fills your gentleness with light.
I have learned to run,
so I might fall at your feet,
a wild thing, and let you tame me.
Beat my legs into ploughshares and pruning hooks.
Touch me until I forget the war,
and the way men are to one another.
You say, "I like being a woman."
And I tell you, "You're good at it."
I don't understand how you can be so soft,
and so much stronger than me.
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