There is a whole truth that I need to submit to.
This truth does not have any room in it for things of the world; all the things of the world exist, but this truth is not of them; it doesn't emerge from what they are or where I am within them. Rather, my Being needs to discover that it is within this truth; and in order to do that, a complete submission is necessary.
This truth isn't of the body, but dwells within it; it isn't of the mind, but mind dwells within it; and although one could say that feelings dwell within it as well, it might not be quite enough. This truth is composed entirely of Love and an understanding of Love, which is the force that creates all things in the world, but which the world is chronically unaware of.
Nothing can happen except through Love; and yet this force undergoes a wrong transformation through my Being. There are times when I sense that I have everything wrong, and these times become more tangible as I grow older. There are some few times when I understand for a moment that complete submission and absolute surrender are the most glorious things possible; and that glory does not have anything of me in it. But those times are rare enough; and every time I reach that threshold, I hope to give enough of myself up to make room for Love.
I truly don't know how to do that. At such moments, I see that all of the events I cling to, and all of the things I have done which I think are good, and bad, are meaningless. Truly, they are meaningless; the Lord is called incomparable because it is impossible to compare the Lord to any worldly things or to creation. I begin to see how this became a doctrine to the Sufi masters; because who can create comparatives of the worldly realm or creation itself and match the scale of Love?
Love does not have a scale, or admit to any measurement.
I had a dream last night in which I was at one church, and thought perhaps I would go to another one where I could develop a more specific and intimate relationship with the Lord, a personal one. But I got to that other church, I looked in, the service was almost over, and the people in there were the same as they are at other churches – not bad people, but somehow still devoted to the worldly. All of them had their noses poked into books.
I found myself trying to explain that I didn't belong there, either — that I was looking for a form that would allow both the form and the intimate relationship to the Lord.
This morning, what came to me helps me to see that these dilemmas aren't really meaningful. They are still attached to questions that lie within creation, and do not submit to Love — even though, in an exquisite irony, the dream is about trying to find a way to submit to love. So no matter what I do, I am always clinging.
The path towards the surrender is an intimate and organic one. I don't know how else to explain it. But it involves being present and trying to open.
The force that helps this is within, and I am forever on the threshold.
I don't know what comes next. So I wait.