Saturday, March 28, 2015

Tiger's paws

It strikes me how eager I am to believe that I can put something material, that is, coarse and physical, into me from outside somewhere, and believe that some kind of real change can come from it.

Of course there is some truth to this, in regard to the physical functioning of the body alone; and there is some truth to it in terms of the alchemy of drugs, which I (unfortunately) experimented with a great deal when I was very young. Yet none of these things have anything to do with the real transformation of the soul, which is effected by much finer materials that have nothing to do with tigers paw's or powdered horns of various kinds.

 Of course the material can transform into other material: physics and chemistry teaches us this in its simplest ways, whether through the obvious forces of catalysts that make one molecular substance out of another, or the fusion in suns that actually creates atoms. Yet there is a much subtler transformation that takes place, where the material is transformed into the spiritual; and, once again, as I ponder it this morning, I see that that point of transformation always exists within the Presence of Being, and results from the higher and most sacred Energy that flows inward into Being.

If I'm not constantly coming back to the relationship with this Energy, it cannot do its work, which is slow and precise, and takes many years. It deposits the spiritual world within Being very slowly, in very fine-grained layers,  like a stream quietly running through the valley of my life. It carries me through life; and over the course of days, weeks, months, and years, many creatures come to drink at this stream. Some leave their footprints in this fine layer of sand and clay that is being deposited; and yet always, year after year, that Energy deposits something that slowly lifts me up, so slowly that it is impossible to see how one's perspective changes from day to day; it's just too incremental.

Yet over the course of a lifetime, eventually one realizes that one is at a slightly higher vantage point than one was, say, several years ago; and one realizes that the stream bed is ever so gradually being raised, through this inner relationship.

 In the meantime, coming back this morning (and, I hope, many times today) to the Presence of this Energy, this finer and higher Energy which is available, I am left in a state of eternal mystery and internal questioning, because there is no way to exactly describe or understand the presence of the Lord. One can be inwardly formed by this; and one can know, despite one's abject failings, what real Love is through this force. It is a practical encounter with a great Truth that I am forever unable to inhabit and live out, unworthy Being that I am: and yet it is possible for me to look into the loving eyes of this force and know my own nothingness, which is in itself a way of Love, since this negation of myself, this gentle no that perpetually reminds me of who and what I actually am, is in fact its own blessing, even though my cruder parts can't understand that.

Through Grace and time (which is not just the destroyer, but as well the real healer) — an understanding that does not belong to the crudest and lowest parts of myself gradually begins to form. Yet that understanding isn't of the intellect.

It is a feeling.


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