Sunday, July 1, 2012
A Precious Thing
But perhaps this isn't the right question.
How can I be now? How am I? It's not what I am doing, in the context of some largely illusory action, it's my state. What is my state? Not what was it yesterday, or how will it be tomorrow, what is it right now? Right now. Not later.
The organism has an entire range of vibration in it, and it is available right now. This is what I am made of. This is what Being consists of. Whether I sense it as a coarser or a finer presence, still, that's all there is. And that is all there will ever be; here I am.
So how can I be what I am? This is exactly the point of self observation, to see how I am, not in the context of the deeds I do, but my state. And doing deeds to determine my state? That's a dead end. I have to see my state, that is, undertake a quite different kind of action. To just look.
So the relationship has to be, quite definitely, more organic, arising from a quality of vibration that is whole, that radiates from a center of gravity—perhaps the solar plexus... or perhaps the heart, or the spine, but most certainly, an organic center of gravity. I need to come into relationship with this force, this energy, which arises and manifests within this body to help Being affirm itself.
This is a subtle thing. One has to go deeper; and deeper still. There is discussion of intimacy; there is an admonition to secrecy. This is a private action, an action that must become precious to myself, disregarding all others—my relationship with them is only important after this intimate relationship with myself, and even then, unless I am in relationship with myself, I'm hardly relationship with my life, or them, or anything else. So I have to begin with this inner vibration, this sensation of Being and of the Self.
The Self is a precious thing; Being is a precious thing. These two entities or manifestations are both properties of God; for Self and Being arise from and come into expression solely as a fraction of God, as a service to God, and an offering to God. In each instance that awareness arises, divinity is bestowing its action upon its creation. Readers interested in understanding this in an exact theoretical manner are advised to read the opening paragraphs of Ibn al Arabi's Naqsh al-fusûs, his summary of The Bezels of Wisdom, which I think explains the matter with considerably more precision than this essay is able to.
The theoretical understanding, however, isn't what we're investigating today; rather, what can we do in a practical way to come into relationship with this sacred root of Being, which is folded into the mind, the heart, and the sensation of our organism? There's a call to relationship that arises within the body as the sun rises; perhaps it can become more tangible in that moment of awakening, if I look for it specifically, and with some sensitivity. Being grows roots that pass through the body, and it's a connection to these roots I need to be more aware of; Being connects itself through these finest of fibers which spread through the cells, bringing a wholeness of a different order.
Then, there is action, but it begins with a rootedness, a solidity—a sense of gravity—that does not belong to me, but needs my presence nonetheless—and cannot be denied.
In our ongoing discussion of the properties of God, surely this, too, is one of them.
I respectfully hope you will take good care.