Consistency

Shadbush

April 14

Yesterday a huge storm blow through. In the evening, as the clouds cleared, the bedraggled corpses of a few bees lay around the entrances of the hives. Yet on the whole the bees were prepared for this event; and as soon as the rain stopped, they were outside the hives foraging. They knew quite early that the storm was over; I think they can sense barometric pressure and respond to it.

We human beings live through highs and lows of a different kind; most of them are produced by desire and our emotion. The word "desire" was originally derived from the Latin desiderare, which in all probability was formed from -de, “down,” and sider or sidus, meaning star. The general idea is that our desires flow down into us from a higher level: from the stars. And indeed a great deal of astrology centers around the interpretation of our desire relative to our life.  Love and attitude; forces so great they descend from the heavens and, in the end, hardly belong to us. In most cases, it seems, we helplessly belong to them.

…Or do we? 

Our desires produce inner, not outer, storms; and after they’re over, too often the tiny corpses of our expectations and assumptions litter the front porch of our Being. One sees that we’re also a beehive in the sense of our thoughts, our attitudes, our assumptions and presumptions, and our emotions. Gurdjieff said we have many “I’s”, many different people, in us.

In the midst of these impulses and emotions that pull us this way and that, we too often lose our moorings. We profess one noble thing or another, but then do the exact opposite because of an emotional impulse. 

There is no consistency; and this leads me to the theme I was pondering last night.

I often, in my circles, hear folks express concern about the fact that they forget themselves, forget who they are, forget what they are doing, and seem to function almost mindlessly. All of a sudden they come around to a more focused level of awareness and find themselves in situations they didn't plan on, doing things they didn't want to do, and having feelings they didn't want to have. 

This is an experience of a kind of polarized desire, that is, the moment when I wake up and find out that my desires weren't the right kind of desires. 

OMG.

How can I create a greater consistency of Being? What does that mean?

The word consistency is derived from Latin roots -con, meaning “together” and sistere, “stillness.” to stand still.

 In order for inward Being to be consistent, it needs to come together and to stand still. I need to discover a quietness that is not based on my emotions; and this quietness, this stillness, is arrived at by a gathering of force from within. 

There’s a concentration; not in the sense of anything forced or coerced, but in the sense of an inward affiliation, a discovery of the attraction of my molecules to one another. A magnetic property that consolidates my physical self. I am, in every concrete physical sense of the word, a magnetic field. Attraction and repulsion rule every force in me from the subatomic level all the way up through atoms, molecules, cells, and the entire body. 

There is nothing theoretical about this physical fact. The human organism, in the sense of its greater consciousness—this metaphysical awareness that we call Self—concentrates itself in this series of very structured attractions and repulsions. There’s a staggering level of activity and vibration; yet, compacted as it is at the atomic and molecular level, it’s as invisible as the psyche, which cannot be weighed and measured in the way that atoms can.

Yet in the midst of all of this microcosmic uproar—

the soul. An essence.

There’s a place where everything comes together and is still. 

The activity, the turning thought, the whirlpools and tornadoes of mentation and desire, find a center of gravity in the sensation of myself. 

I am here. 

I exist. 

Nothing more is absolutely necessary than to appreciate this.

In truth, what moves most of me forward through life is what I call event-based satisfaction. I can’t deny this force; it’s a part of the organism, of my essential Being, and it arises naturally. If I try to force or manipulate this part of myself, I go against nature. Yet it’s inconsistent, not gathered together, and it pulls me in many directions. So perhaps it isn't that helpful in my appreciation of my Being. 

My satisfaction needs to begin here, right now, with the inhabitation of my body. My sensation of myself can help me do this. In this way, there is a togetherness and a stillness—a consistency—that supports me where I begin, not from what I do and how great or terrible it is. Outwardly, there is no doubt that things will continue to be great or terrible. The question is whether I maintain a thread of connection to this inward force, which is indifferent towards the outwardness. 

When I use the word indifferent, I don't mean uncaring—not at all. What I mean is consistent: together, and still. Contemplative. Willing to receive life on its own terms, even those parts of life which consist of myself doing this or that.

In her final moments, it's reported that Jeanne de Salzmann said, 

Be there in relation to a force. Then it doesn't matter so much, what happens.

This morning, as in each morning, I'll try to begin with a respectful and careful attention towards this force which creates my Being. It's ever so interesting, if I'm willing to pay a little attention to it. 

This reminds me in turn of the way that Zen master Dogen often used to end his dharma talks: 

I respectfully ask you to take good care.

May your heart be close to God, 

and God close to your heart.

Lee

Lee van Laer is a Senior Editor at Parabola Magazine.