Monday, December 7, 2015

We speak in the terms we understand in

Sylvia March's pottery studio
Dec. 2015

It’s generally agreed in the circles of inner work, at least the ones I am in, that we try to speak from what we have experience with and some understanding of. 

Of course this so often means we don't speak much about understanding, because we have so little. More often, we speak about how we don't understand. This is the truth — we don't understand. 

If we really allow a great truth to penetrate our heart, it is that we don’t understand. Love comes into us and penetrates us through this pathway of not understanding. It can be so surprising when that happens.

I speak about Love because at least I understand a little about it. What I understand is how I don't understand it. It penetrates everything; it gives endlessly. It is alive and conscious. It is unstintingly generous and merciful.

 I’m nothing like that. When I encounter Love — when I let my lack of understanding truly open up like a rosebud rises above its thorns and opens up its tightly wound petals, and Love comes in in a great, unexpected rush that is so gentle and perfect I am nothing before it — I see how I don't understand. I truly have to let everything go: aspiration and ambition have no place here. 

There is a way to let Love into me so that I act through it and all actions become perfect through it — as an actor, I do everything that is necessary, although it is only a role, and everything I do is not mine. The difference between an action through Love is that it does not belong to me, compared to all the actions I do through myself, but cannot come through Love.

Well, of course they can’t. I’m not loving, as I have pointed out before. I’m constantly trying to act from such a place, thinking that I am capable, that it will work out—only to find that I present myself helplessly to God a little later in the the situation, find myself allowing Love to act, and then see that I have to untie many of the knots in the fishing line that I left behind me as I tried to act on my own. 

Then I feel, more or less, ashamed and stupid, because I see that I'm truly nothing without the Lord.

I think that one of the greatest lessons that comes through Love is that one has to see constantly that one cannot take actions that are harmful to others. That temptation will always be there; and it grows great mankind in these days. It is a terrible thing, it is a thing of the devil and all the evil forces that would take us down into them and consume us. 

Yet it is not so hard to resist if we just let God's Love guide our inner hands.

One of my friends was taking her first pottery lesson yesterday, and it was interesting to see how graceful her potential was under the guidance of another who cared. One could see that she was going to be able to make a pot, because she allowed the influence that was needed to enter her. 

We are like that with God: we have the ability to become master potters that craft our vessel so that it will hold Love, but only if we let the hand of the creator guide us. 

No matter how hard we try, if we don't allow the right influence to enter us, we will damage what we try to build.

So I think that each of us, according to our ability, needs to speak from where our work is in us today, and what the whole of the inward work in the direction of God needs. 

Love is the most needed thing now; this energy that creates me and feeds me. 

I may not be worthy to speak of it, but I must dare to; at this particular moment in Earth's passage, there is no alternative.


Lee van Laer is a senior editor at Parabola Magazine.

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