Monday, February 10, 2014

The undivided inquiry

I'm thinking about—and trying to sense, in an inner way—the difference between what I encounter now, outwardly, and the inner contact with truth, which is of a different order.

Truth doesn't have a form, but its effects on Being are effused: truth pours out into Being and forms its inward aspects.

In this way Being, which is of the material, comes into alignment with a different quality. The material, when it is informed by truth, emanates its action from an originally divine impulse. The results of this are hardly predictable and don't follow expectations; this is because a different energy informs action, that is, the energy is quietly present within action and action conforms itself, without tension, to outwardness in proportion to the presence of the energy, and what is necessary. This conformity is intelligent; but not by way of intellect.

One could speak of this in terms of reciprocity, which would imply a dualism and exchange between levels; but I'm not at all sure it's like that. There is a one-ness, a unity, in the relationship which becomes an undivided question, or inquiry.

The undivided inquiry proceeds from premises other than the outer. It has the resilience of an inner gravity; it is not easily perturbed or disturbed, and it has a respect for itself and what is around it. But it doesn't have a thought process to it— at least not the way thought is generally understood. It's organic, that is, of the organism, and proceeds from its own entirety, not some fractional manifestation.  

One might think this is some grand piece of territory, but it is in fact a small one. I can't swallow God whole; so I swallow God by degrees, and, in the process, delightfully discover that I am the one being swallowed.

It's not so bad, this thing.

In submission, in an effort to open, everything must be on the table; ah, this is difficult. Everything is exactly what I want, and yet none of this can align properly with the demand.

Perhaps the undivided inquiry rests there. In any event, it certainly rests, because it is not an agitated entity, in any sense.

One things is certain: it echoes through the day, and, at any moment, stands ready to remind me that one lives and breathes in territory marked by much greater things than can ever be seen.


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