The Pioneer

 Man was ever a pioneer,
a wanderer, a pilgrim.
Stuck in the jungle with implements of stone
he looked outwards and started on a journey.

To pioneer the bounderies of consciousness,
expanding them into the nothingness of non-being.
To explore the newly habited areas of being
and pit the forces of being
against the resistance of nothing.
To domesticate and make habitable the new tracts of mind,
and cultivate them with thought.
To organize and govern the newly-realised with reason.
To transform nothing into something.
To redeem the something with values,
and thus enlighten it and call it good,
the resistant darkness evil.

The law of something was love.
For the elements of something to hold together
they had to support each other.
To fail to do this or destroy
 would return the something to nothing.
The darkness of nothing was evil,
the antithesis of being which is emptiness.

Emptiness at times encroached
into what had been redeemed,
and colonised the mind of man
to turn him back from love and good to nothing.

Only the will of a man could make him embrace nothingness,
or turn him again to good.
The choice of a man was between what was,
and what was not.

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The glory of the Father

"We went up and up and I wondered how long we would go on. Then above I saw a sort of heavenly dome and clouds of glory. We observed the inner surface of the "dome" and it was darkish, and the clouds were golden. Of course it wasn’t a solid dome. It presented the opaqueness beyond which we could see no further. The glory showed the endless light, golden light, of forever. He said there was no end. We were looking, as it were, in the direction of the Father, the originator. We all gazed and gazed and could see nothing but light on light, shifting and ebullient."

"A Spiritual Diary"

What is power?

          "Another time I asked for a little more light on Holy Saturday. I saw a vast tall building in yellowish stone, flat-fronted and rectangular, reaching up to and piercing a small cloud. There were a few windows in it. We went up and I asked, sort of off-the-cuff, if this was the Tower of Babel. A said no. We reached the top and from the little cloud ran a damp darkish foot-path, but with light like moonlight piercing through the dark. In the light I glimpsed running water. We walked along this path, and as we did so I realized the path had become a corridor along a very large grand yellowish governmental building as it were, as in the Roman Empire, and a lot of people were walking along with us fast. This building represented worldly power and authority. Then we went down some steps to the right, to ground-level. The corridor and steps were in the open, outside. At the bottom of the steps we looked across a dark square to where three crosses stood with their victims blackened and dead. We did not go across because this was merely to show the death and darkness experienced by Christ when placed in the hands of worldly authority.

          The vertical building probably demonstrated the climb in worldly authority to its’ pinnacle, embodied in the worldly power exercised by the Roman Empire. And the level corridor the experience of this power. I don’t know what the little dark damp path meant. The black crosses and figures represented Golgotha. This was the seeming triumph that day of worldly power over spiritual. And spiritual power hidden, but acting unseen, the worldly power impotent to challenge it, and heading for destruction. What use the big tall buildings?"

         "A Spiritual Diary"

The fulcrum

The point of despair, the fulcrum of one's life, can be likened to the Crucifixion, the death of all that went before. After that there is the choice of death or life. If one chooses life one chooses the experience of the Resurrection.

Life beyond despair

      The following verse from Emily Bronte's poem "Remembrance", written in 1845, is part of a lament over the grave of a lover by one of her imaginery charcters. However real or imaginery the bereavement in the poem may have been, the grief she portrays is not pretend. She wrote from the heart, knowing what she was talking about, and it is one of her finest poems.

                                            "But, when the days of golden dreams had perished,
                                             And even Despair was powerless to destroy,
                                             Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,
                                             Strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy."

      Has anyone ever compared the experience she describes here with Jean Paul-Sartre's 'life on the other side of despair' about which he wrote so many years later?

Ascension

My Lord went into Heaven

- I don’t remember how –

but where Heaven meets the universe

in one eternal whole

I must have been a witness,

I must have had a role.

My Lord he went to Heaven,

the clouds concealed his going.

Just so, within my psyche

he’s hidden from my sight

behind the cloud of self-love

 in uncreated light.

Can man devise a ship

to cross the bar of time

and seek the Lord in the abyss

 - the universe’s crèche?

No – but I will go there

through the barrier of flesh.

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Free person or slave?

            What is liberty? In 2013 we think of oppressed peoples fighting for their freedom, but there are worse tyrants than dictators. No-one who is jealous of someone, or envies someone, or resents someone, or coverts something someone else has, or hates someone is free. These interior oppressors eat away at the soul. Not to know them is true liberty. And the decision not to know them is an act of the will, a choice.
            One has one's own life to build on solid foundations. Time spent resenting someone else is time wasted. The only applause worth anything comes from beyond, from those who know why one was born. The arena here is tiny. The audience there is counted in hosts. 

Love or lust?

            What is bondage? In answer to that question does the 2013 mind see Isrealite slaves, or women in black lacy smalls and toy hancuffs? Something helpless or vulnerable is now a magnet for thousands of men. Sometimes white hunters in India would have bait tethered to attract a tiger. Then sit close by and shoot it when it arrived. Our hunting ancestors, on the other hand, were out there catching their dinners. It was a dangerous game and their adrenaline rush is still in our veins, but the chase in certain men has degenerated to a callous form of recreation.
            At the same time the instincts of chivalry and tenderness are strong in most little boys. Wouldn't it be a wise step to open the barn door for these instincts of a later civil society to come out in force and take possession of  the field before it can be usurped by their violent cousins?

Exodus

 The little whisps of cloud sail on,

 remote above the night-dark sky.

The wintry breeze which bears them forward

chills my face and stirs my hair.

I watch and dream I too drift out

floating lightly on the wind,

 gallant, serene, in space unchartered,

cool, unfettered, through the night.

Effigy or person?

          "Now I found we were in dirty water paddling it. At first I didn’t notice but then I saw a gigantic monolith stretching upwards. It seemed to be an image of Jesus or the Buddha, but like stone. It was an image and we were in gloom, not light, though not dark. Then I noticed that we were all the while paddling this water with our feet, and I saw a marigold floating on it, and I said, “The Ganges.” That was correct. We rose upwards again in front of the image. Whether Jesus or the Buddha it was apparently an inaminate image and very large.

          We then rose above the gloom into bright light. Very white. There was no colour and it was like the surface of a bright sea with spotless foam, and it stretched into a far distance of white light. Or you could say the sea was like the surface of very white cloud. Shining bright. Anyway we sat to contemplate the scene. Then we floated forward into it horizontally, and the light entered our bodies so they dissolved in it. A said, “Now we are full of light and our bodies have disappeared.” I said, “Yes.” And he said, “But you know me and I know you.” I said, “Yes.”

          The images of the Ganges and Christ or Buddha showed that as images they have no active role in our lives. At best they are reminders. The committed  participation of faith is needed for a creative relationship with our saviours. Then they are truly guides and liberators for us in this life, and no doubt in the next.

          The layer of white light or white cloud floor was above the layers of images where colours were rich. We are part of God’s creation but we can also create with the imagination there, and with hands and tools here. We are invited to participate in God’s fun and play."

            "A Spiritual Diary"

A door-mat or a door?

In this life we need to distinguish between when one should go with the flow, and when one should stand up.

Variety is the spice of life!

            Isn't it amazing to think that a daisy and a gladioli are both equally flowers? And that a pekinese and an alsation are equally dogs? Yet we would laugh if a daisy were to say (supposing it could talk) of a gladioli, 'That is not an attractive flower. A flower should be small and white and have a yellow heart'. Or if a pekinese said of an alsation, 'That is not a superior dog. A dog should be brown and squat and have a snub nose'. Human beings similarly need to observe their fellows with a liberal eye, not measuring the appearance of other people by their own appearance. How intolerably dull a town centre would be if all the human beings walking around there looked alike! Instead a town centre is as exciting as a Chelsea Flower Show or a Crufts Dog Show in its variety in shape size and colour of the human being.

The Kite

Oh kite you soar up weightlessly

on power invisible to us.

You rise beyond the walls and roofs

and meet the birds and trees in flight.

If only I could fly like that

and float above this frenzied world

and gaze upon the gleaming towers

of clouds stacked tall and pearly white! 

From there I’ld see the towns below

and fires and smoke and heaving crowd.

Up there I would not hear a sound.

I’ld have my spell of ecstasy,

my moment of celestial bliss,

until I sank into the pit.

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Snakes and ladders?

          "Then A and I were in darkness. I followed him through a shining narrow passage. Then there was an opening like a window into a “night sky” and we went out through this window into the dark heavens where stars were visible. Then we went up a spiral sort of staircase led by a small light. Then we fell down into the darkness, and we talked about this a bit, that this was a bottomless abyss and yet it held no terror. He asked me why I was not afraid and I said because it is God. I was happy. Then a light began to shine through the “valley” below and to the right of us. Then there was a rocky  cliff beside us and we started to climb up it. Now there was a dark blue sky and a bright sun shining on us as we climbed. It was quite a stiff climb but very beautiful. We agreed that falling through the dark was easy. Climbing through the light  required effort. Then we started to climb up through a narrow crevass and the sun was shining down brightly through the crevass, and we were climbing towards the light. Then a lid came down on it and we were in gloom. A said, “The light is still there but you can’t climb into it in this life. It’s still there.” But I was still to climb towards it. I understood.

          Then he said it was time to return, and we descended, and he said I should think about these things. I should remember it is easy and fast falling down through the dark, and hard work climbing up through the light. This darkness was the weepy things of life, and the night in contrast to the day. We are to know the darkness to its’ depths, but climb up the bright and shining cliff, or passage, (with its’ window looking out into the night where stars are visible) to the light."

           "A Spiritual Diary"

The Waves

I love the sea,
it speaks to me
in waves of froth and foam.

They tell me how
through endless tracts
of rolling time and space
the world was young
and life began
secure in their embrace.

I look and look at them and ask
how many ages more
they’ll foam and spray
and leap and froth
like this upon the shore.

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No short-cuts.

            An arduous spiritual journey can't be formalised into a simple walk.

We are wanderers as all our fathers were.

            We have to learn to discover our home in the abyss.

            The abyss is both fulness and emptiness.

The landscapes of reality.

            It seems to be that all the areas, layers, and landscapes of the spiritual world co-exist as one thing, and in a sense it doesn't matter which layer or area you are in. Nor of course is it even a place. It is in some sense projected from the mind. Our world itself is a layer of the spirit world.

The healing touch.

Reparation is spinning light out of darkness.

Tools or weapons.

            Maybe we need to consider that the gifts that we have are meant to be used as tools and not as weapons. As the surgeon must use his tools with the greatest delicacy in order not to cut through a fine membrane unintentionally, so it is also too easy for us to forget to employ equal delicacy in relationships.
            How easy in a forgetful moment to let the scalpel slip and cut a thread vital to the other's self-image, pride, or sense of self-worth! Human-beings can be destroyed by a careless word.

Is the outlook sinister or benign?

"He asked what I could see and I said darkness. He said, "Keep looking." Then I saw the scene lightening up. He said did I want to pass through and I said yes, so I did. I then continued along on his request. I saw vague fire-work-type lights around. Then I reached a bright light and was asked to look up. Above us was the source of the light and it shone a bright beam down over us. He asked if I would like to go up, so I did. I passed up through the column of light. After a while the way became dark and I found myself crippled and enclosed and hampered by dark metallic rods, rather like being trapped in the middle of a broken umbrella without its’ cover. I continued upwards but frustrated by the obstacle of the painful twisted rods. He said, “These are your fears. Let them go.”

So I found I could cast them away, and they fell below me. I emerged on to a downy surface like a quilt. It was cream-coloured and soft to the feet. He wrapped a blanket round me. I discovered I was like an infant being wrapped round cosily. Then I walked forwards on the surface like a small child. He said, “Everywhere is safe. Wherever you go and however far you go you are safe.” I had been feeling uneasy on account of various possible nerve-wracking scenarios. These feelings were the dark rods. They didn’t matter. Faith or fear, these are one's own choice. I was to be like the trusting child in its’ world of safety."

"A Spiritual Diary"

 

What is life?

          "Then he caused me to find myself in water. It was rather slimy as with plantane, and such primitive vegetation. I found a muddy surface below my feet and started to climb out. I heard in my head the words, “primaeval swamp.” As I waded out on to a muddy shore I saw a bright round light in the sky like a white sun. It was approaching and I heard the word, “watch”. It descended and enveloped the whole of the surface of land. It spread out and I saw how it enveloped the whole round earth with its’ own larger circular white light. A halo round the earth’s surface. At first I could not understand what I had seen but I heard, “Think about it.”

          Later I did and I understood that at the very beginning earth had received not only a biological llfe but also a soul, (or spirit?). That everything is indwelt and surrounded by soul, of the nature of God’s light. Its’ life is therefore essentially indestructible. I don’t know if I mean soul or spirit here. I saw the earthly part of it crumble and fall away, but the life-forms of earth taken up and transfigured in the circular light. This rose up and moved away with all that had lived on earth safely contained in it. The earthly parts were also attended to but I didn’t see how. It was like angels coming and collecting it up, but that was a vague peripheral impression."

         "A Spiritual Diary" 

Smile please......... :))

            And then we started to walk. I saw that the scenery was rather like a Noddy landscape, as for children. He said we would not exert ourselves but would enjoy what he called the 'geniality' and 'innocence'. After moving along horizontally, during which we at first walked and then skimmed, we started to go upwards.

            We entered the round light of the sun, and he said it was the soul of the sun like I had seen the soul of the earth. From there we could look down on the toyland scenery through the pale golden haze emitted by the sun. He said earth needs to regain its’ innocence. He said human beings must now relearn their ability to contemplate the world, and try to make sense of it, and then learn how to communicate with it again as people used to in myth and legend and symbol.

            Another word to relearn the meaning of was 'truth'. We used to see our world with the eye of truth. The ability to see things and then communicate them in myth he attributed to the quality of innocence. The early North and South American peoples could contemplate their world and discover its’ meaning. Their stories were passed down meticulously from generation to generation. This is the eye we have to regain.

             He mentioned a couple of other attributes. I think one was righteousness (maybe – I’ve forgotten). The other important one was “geniality”. He said earth has had enough recently of 'masculinity' (meaning the use of force, domination or assertion, by either men or women – this was not a feminist remark) and now needs the embracing quality of geniality.

            "A Spiritual Diary"

Who paints the butterfly?

We went far up, way above the mountains, up and up. We stopped on a cloudy landscape, greyish and not very light, billowy cloud underneath us. They said that I knew the way to reach a destination was by thinking it, so where should we go?

Up there there did not seem to be any destinations but I said, “Heaven.” They said alright that’s where we would go and immediately we were in a wonderfully coloured cavern-like area with brilliantly-coloured “walls” but these were not solid. I examined the colours. They were like those painted in oils by genius painters. We looked at the different shades and how they merged together. We looked at the blue-range, the yellow-range, and the red-range. We could see all the delicate in-between shades. They were molten in texture, living. One could have spent a day looking at all there was to see. J said, “God’s pallet.” I wished some real artists were there to see everything critically. 

             We traced the source of the colours to a narrowish channel of purplish liquid. I was encouraged to go through the channel. They pointed out that I couldn’t drown! In any case it was a real adventure, and I waded through. We came to an area of light. The same brilliant colours were on display, but as of air rather than oil or water. We looked again and discussed the process of creation, water or oil as solidified air so to speak. We looked at how the creative process of God proceeds first through light itself, white and coloured. Then it moves down to the more solid, and manifests in liquid form. We sat on a rock and thought about how the liquid form moves down into the “solid” – for us. Yet it is all the creative process of God’s mind. The rock issues forth from God’s mind just as much as pure light. It is merely further down the process. J said God himself is Mind.  And he creates.
 

I tried to compare this process with that of human artists, and considered whether they are just sitting there copying down what they see or imagine. J said some may be forced to do that, but a true artist can enter into the mind of God and present the inspiration of that experience on canvas for others to see. I felt that only a very great artist could mix the colours that we had seen and put them on canvas. I then thought of music and they said music comes on auditory waves which are another area of the spectrum of creation.

"A Spiritual Diary"

Shining towers

We came out on to a flat surface and entered a building close by. It was vast inside. The roof was so high I couldn’t see it. It was lost in darkness. The whole building was vast. J said it was a cathedral and invited me to come to the altar. This was an area of bright golden light, and the altar was like translucent golden pillars, reminiscent of the white cold icicle mountains we had passed earlier. J looked at it and quoted to me, “If there be a heaven on earth it is this, it is this, it is this.” (From a carved inscription on an arch in the Red Fort.) J invited us to worship and we lay face down in the chancel with our arms spread out in the shape of a cross. Then we stood up and J said, “This is the Church. When you pray in any church, beyond it and through it is this. You are praying before this." He said that the mystical dimension has not disappeared in the modern Church. It is always there. And if the clergy at the moment concentrate more on good works at least people looking at them know God cares. Then hopefully they will look through and beyond to the glory.

            We then rose up through the golden pillars of the altar to more and vaster areas of gold, and beyond these, as it were shining towers, we came to a vast golden sun-like area which J said was infinite and for-ever, the Godhead. We knelt and gazed. 

           "A Spiritual Diary"

The big bang.......

Today I was taken up to the grey cloudy area of “un-knowing”, way above the mountains. J pointed to a small door in the distance, so we went to it and opened it. Inside, from the door, a  passage led to a narrow flight of stairs. We went down these and came out on to a beach. We walked out across the sand and knelt to look at the sea. On the horizon appeared a golden ball, and I said, “The sun.” J said yes, but it wasn’t the usual sun.  It came across to us over the sea, and up the beach towards us. Finally it enveloped us, and then I realized we were going up in it, as in a balloon. It rose up and up, and we could look out across the sea. J said, “The seas of knowledge.” And then, looking at me to see that I was getting the message, said, “And this sun is the light of inspiration, lighting up the sea.”

We travelled above the sand along the shore-line, and then descended back down on to the sand, and looked around us. As we stood enjoying the scene a new light arose along the horizon. It rose up across the sky, brighter and brighter, and finally it exploded in millions of golden “fire-works” all across the sky. J said, “The explosion of realization.” He asked me to think back again to the "cloud of unknowing". Then the seas of knowledge. Then the light of inspiration. Then the explosion of realization. The light of the explosion lit up the sea, and the beach, and ourselves, and it formed an arc across the horizon.

"A Spiritual Diary"

 

The will

            "Some people think that the will to do a thing is an enthusiasm from the area of the solar plexus, but it isn’t. That’s where the fire comes from. It has no temperature. It is pure intent and comes from the top of the head, even when there is no fire in the belly."

"A Spiritual Diary"

A disappearing act.......

            "We then rose above the gloom into bright light. Very white. There was no colour and it was like the surface of a bright sea with spotless foam, and it stretched into a far distance of white light. Or you could say the sea was like the surface of very white cloud. Shining bright. Anyway we sat to contemplate the scene. Then we floated forward into it horizontally, and the light entered our bodies so that they dissolved in it. He said, “Now we are full of light and our bodies have disappeared.” I said, “Yes.” And he said, “But you know me and I know you.” I said, “Yes.” "

"A Spiritual Diary"

Thither or hither?

            We walked round the cliff looking out to sea to the far horizon. J said, “Look at eternity but also remember to think of eternity looking at you.” We stood for a while and I was told to understand this. As I looked out I saw the sea and the horizon and the sky as also looking back at me. Jesus said, “It isn’t that you are subject, and the sea and the sky are object. They are also subject and you are object. You are all one thing.” 

            He said, “Think of God at the moment of creation. He thought everything, and everything emerged from his thought. Creation was therefore not separate from God. It was his thought and originated in his mind. If you imagine something it isn’t separate from you. It is part of your mind.” I said yes, and added, “But the things which have been created have their own life and their own reality, which we can examine and research.” J said, “Yes. Each thing is real in itself.” We thought about animals in particular, and how real they are with their individual characteristics. And at the same time they are also God’s thought.

            How intriguing is that! Just as we learn about a person through his creative work we learn about God from the universe. It really pays to look at the littlest creatures of the world and consider how each of their tiny needs is attended to. Someone said ducks prove God has a sense of humour. Of course one might also consider the slug........ but there are those who find them fascinating. Nature is a book for those who wish to read. And we learn not to be picky and choosy. Or priggish. None stands in a priviledged position. We are all in the same position creatively speaking. We just differ in our destinies, and the destinies themselves are part of the whole in God's thought.

"A Spiritual Diary"

Enter now his courts........

 Before I had even started my meditation I had been seeing waves of green and blue luminosity crossing a cosmic sky, like the arora borealis. During the meditation we saw pearly-white luminosity like mother-of pearl weaving around above us where normally I see mountain scenery. Something like a bird took us up, but I couldn’t see its’ shape. We were engulfed in whiteness, but like possibly feathers and the sense of being carried up and then along.

We came to an abrupt halt, as of crashing into something. It was a closed door and there was a key-hole. J asked me, “What is the key?” I said, “Faith.” That was correct and the door opened. We entered a spacious boulevard-type of avenue lit up and decorated with coloured lights. J said, “Halls of gladness.” Then we came to a tall sort of mountain reaching to a pinnacle. J said, “Spires of reason.” We rose up to the top and found it to be decorated with coloured lights. J said, “Lights of reason,” and gave us each one to place in our heads. We then looked across the landscape and J said, “Joy.” We floated in this atmosphere and came upon a golden decorated throne. J said, “Throne of grace.” I asked, “The throne of God the Father?” and J said, “Yes. But we don’t place on it an image of the Father do we?” I said, “No.” We placed on it our intercessions.

"A Spiritual Diary"

Floating the boat...........

          While we were standing in the boat I asked A if he had any teaching for me, reminiscing how he had taught me to function in this world, how to communicate, and how to relate to everything. There was a bit of a pause and he took me to sit beside him in the bow of the ship, looking ahead. He remarked that in this dimension the boat was real, and the sea, and the people. But if I were to lose my intent it would all disintegrate and disappear. What held it together and made it purposeful was my steady intent. Yet my intent did not create what happened. It did not create the boat for instance. The boat appeared and the rowers. In that sense I had to co-operate with what happened. I did not orchestrate what happened.

           Likewise in life a steady intent is necessary. That is not on an object, but into infinity. And not into spatial infinity, but into the heart of God which is infinite. Do that and other things take their proper place and fly past, as this sea flowed past me. My intent will never be on them. They will never be objects of desire, or destinations to reach. They will flow past, serving their necessary purposes and disappearing. In that way my life will hold its’ form, and not disintegrate. The fine point of the soul must point the way.

"A Spiritual Diary"

In a bluebell wood......

"He said that green and blue are important for calming and nourishing the soul, and he directed my attention especially to the blue of the flowers and the green of the leaves of the wood. He demonstrated how the bluebells could be swept outwards into the distance in any direction we wanted, or retracted. 'And every flower is perfect and real.' He showed me how they coiuld all be retracted to a tiny dot in the mind of God, a point of an idea. And even then, in that point, every flower would exist perfectly in God's mind. And they could issue out from his mind in that same perfection, still of course in his mind. Space isn't necessary for their existence or perfection."

"A Spiritual Diary"

Light

Water and light are the same thing. Light can descend as water.

Intimations of Joy

Intimations of Joy 

Endless as for ever,

so love let us fly

in everlasting now. 

We’ll merge and part,

and speed with light

on highways with no end.

We’ll leap as dolphins,

dive as hawks,

in boundless timeless here. 

Through secret forest paths we’ll walk,

or rise on wings of choice,

to castles bright

on mountain heights

beneath a cloudless sky.

In meadows green we’ll run and play,

in sparkling oceans swim.

‘Ought’ or ‘must’ will not be words,

we’ll move at spirit’s whim. 

And if perchance we choose to rest

we’ll find a cabin snug

with oak beams low

and polished floor

and chintz and bowls of flowers.

A cat and dog will snooze before

a cosy parlour fire.

And armchairs two

for me and you

we’ll take because they’re ours. 

And there we’ll sit and dream a while

of what it means to be.

Of essence, forms, and serious things,

to check our jollity.

Of fishes from primordial light

dissolving to reform,
back and forth, and to and fro,
in sportive cosmic flight. 

The forms as real as bees and wax,

the light as starlight clear.

If bees be light,

and light be wax,

what fun it is my dear!

 

 

Tempus fugit.....and how!

I can hardly believe my own memory that when I was a girl 'sexy' wasn't a word and no-one would have understood the idea that anyone would want to look it. Nor that we played out at the weekends and got muddy without caring, went to the local woods and fields perfectly safely, enjoyed Children's Hour on the radio, imbibed the morality expected of good children by Enid Blyton, sat in rows facing the blackboard at school and listened quietly, went home after school to mothers who had cooked our food and made our clothes, and sat darning in the evenings while listening to the radio. Boring? Maybe - but we were safe. Fathers were there in the home to ensure that. (Except during the war when we didn't feel safe.) Do I wish I had been born earlier? - no. I love the internet age and all the exciting things people can do now. But I'm certainly glad I'm up to my knees in the culture of the 1940's and 1950's. It gave us strong roots. It gave us absolutes. We can discern the fake. And most of us believe we are answerable to a higher authority, and are visible to a throng which dwarfs any TV or O2 audience, a good deal kinder maybe, but still..........!

The tale of......... :)

                                                                             The Spider!   

Spider - many legs
but how far does he get
round and round his private web
of interlocking net?

The Spider does not see beyond
the next meal on his plate.
His eyes are large, his focus small,
he doesn't like to wait.

In fact his uncle grew quite sick
of watching this display.
Such truly shocking indolence
was not at all the way.

"It's time you took up sport!"
quoth he. "Eradicate that girth
or one day you'll end up as quite
the fattest bloke on earth!

"Remember Spider Marmaduke
whose fame the bards still sing!
He climbed a thread so high he won
the envy of a King.

"So get up! Shape up! Climb up!
Forsake your prison bars!
Get off that dreary tread-mill
and fast track to the stars!"

 

There's none so blind as those who won't see........

If we close our eyes we are in darkness. If we open our eyes we are obliged to see. If what we see is not acceptable we tell ourselves stories about it to make it palatable. We create a myth and henceforth that's what we see.
(Though a myth can also be a vehicle useful in conveying a very large concept!)
If we choose to keep our eyes firmly closed we never see the reality. We make our way through life on the basis of what we think is true, or hope is true. The result is we constantly fall into ditches or take wrong directions.
One reality is that the human spirit issues from the eternal Spirit.
Another is that negative feedback about ourselves has to be considered seriously in case it is sign we should be taking a different direction.
Or if the feedback really seems to be false, well much if what goes on in the world is based on fundamental error. We have to judge intelligently.
It is important that we see other people clearly and recognise the ways in which they reveal the actuality of the eternal Spirit.
Not to do so is a dangerous insult against the great Reality.

Synchronicity?

Does anyone else have this experience? I will go into town early while it is still quiet with the idea of browsing for a particular item in a particular shop. I arrive at the shop and it is almost empty....... but not quite. As I approach the shelves I want I see someone else is already there........ glued to them. I believe this is called synchronicity? :)) It has happened to me several times. No doubt I am being warned not to waste money!