There is a feeling response to life that lies deeper than ordinary being.
I think I know what this means, in my ordinary state. But it is nothing at all like my ordinary state and it can’t be thought of from that state. It exists in a different order. That is the whole point of orders; they differ from one another, and my ordinary state is of an order—that is, a form, a level—that is different than the deeper level of Being.
This deeper level is quite different than the usual one, and everything is different when perceived from it. One finds one's Self perceiving the exact same things, but one uses a different part of Being to perceive them. In this, action all actions become sacred.
This order ought by rights to be kept quite private from ordinary life as it is lived outwardly, because it’s sacred. There is no part of it which ought to be put on public display. In a sense it is secret; it reveals, but only in an inner way.
In sensing this deeper part, I see how inward it is; and how alive. I ought to keep this connection active; and I see at the same time how life draws me outward constantly. Instead of staying within myself and actively connected to myself, imtimately valuing this closeness, imagination draws me outward. Contemplation, real contemplation, ought to consist of dwelling within this organic relationship, instead of going with imagination.
The action is sometimes described as coming back to myself; and yet I’ve never liked this description. They are someone else’s words for someone else’s experience; and the action of being inward seems so much more delicate and tangible than the words are. Really, it begins and ends in being with myself; being with Being, which is myself in quite a different sense than my outwardness. It’s the difference between being alive and being dead.