He found it harder and harder to talk these days about his inner experiences. Partly because the world seems largely to have moved on from the days when most believed in something in addition to that which they could see all around them. Science and the self assurance of the materialistic modern world derides such concepts as gnosis, and puts inner experience down to chemicals and neuronal connections.
Failing thus to admit to the possibility that neuronal activity and its chemistry is a conduit rather than an originator.
A far greater obstacle for him was his embarrassment over the language and attitudes of the conventionally religious. And an absolute determination to distance himself from the saccharine sweet, cloying awfulness of “the religious”. Not for him the hand on the heart talking of “we Christians” with the unsaid implication “you heathens”. Or “we” anything else come to that matter.
For him, it just wasn’t like that.
Why did he need to talk anyway?
Materialists would consider him an outdated and deluded simpleton. And if so convinced, why should he need to shout it from the rooves?
His answer was twofold.
In earlier days he was a mere seeker. A reader of the experiences of others. Desirous of sitting at the feet of some all wise sage who would reveal to him the secrets of the universe and beyond. And as such, writing was a way of self exploration. Or indeed exploration. Trying on different caps to see if they fitted. As it happens, it was the Christian mystics who first sang loudest in his ear. Followed a close second by the Sufis. And once you listened to them, you realised that Buddhists, Hindus and all manner of others were saying exactly the same thing, but in a style and culture you were not accustomed to and hence found less easy to align with. He did not find beauty in the translations of the Buddhist sutras he had read; so much dull repetition. But in Eckhart or Rumi his soul flew.
Simply, it has to be said, because of the beauty and clarity of their thoughts and the language in which they expressed them. “One person who has mastered life is better than a thousand persons who have mastered only the contents of books” and thus it has proved for him. Meister Eckhart and so many others pointed in the right direction, but he discovered that the path still had to be trodden. Not just read about.
The other reason for his insistent scribbling was that it reinforced his experiences. Settled them in. Expanded them, amplified them. He wrote for himself therefore but the closer he got to the central mystery, the more he felt a need to distinguish himself from the sebaceous, fulsome pap so often served up by the unctuous and oily.
And the second or third hand nonsense served up by those out to make a quick buck.
How rude that sounds. Arrogant too no doubt. But the fact is that his own experiences were a far, far world away from the Victorian Kitsch so very often regurgitated by the religious establishment.
Self awareness and a retreat deep within has shown him something majestic at work. And it wasn’t wet or weedy or simpering. It just was. Big and overpowering and astounding once you answered its call. Not week and limpid, wringing its hands in a corner pronouncing itself sinful and unworthy. And it certainly makes no call to be “worshipped”.
But why be negative and talk about what it is not? Why not talk of what it is?
It just is. He felt no separation from it and himself. It was him and he was it. Or perhaps he was a part of it, a part of a majestic whole. In terms of qualia and human consciousness, contact brought warmth and certitude and well being. A conviction of eternity, a realisation that human pretension on this small planet in the middle of nowhere could be safely ignored.
Yes, yes, cruelty and horror and greed and vileness. It is everywhere rife on this rocky outcrop. But it has ever been thus and perhaps aways will be. He must teach himself to let it go. Recognise that the actions of the unaware are unlikely to change any time soon. Accept that the belief in reincarnation is of serious intent. How many lifetimes will it take? How many worms and dogs and pigs and snakes must you become before you see through the nonsense of life as it is conventionally led. How often will you be born a serf or emperor, a Titan or a humble crofter. Today Buckingham Palace, tomorrow Grenfell Towers.
Well, perhaps he was being figurative about re-incarnation but it no longer felt quite so far fetched as it once had.
What was it like then? It was like a trip without the drugs. Heroin without the poppies. And all brought about by a simple and prolonged daily retreat into silent contemplation.
But above all it was good and life affirming and reassuring. A safe haven. A realisation of just what “is”. And indeed what is not.
Perhaps, he thought, the words of Gerard Manley Hopkins expressed best where the mystic ends up. Even if the poor fellow himself never made it before crossing the bar.
I have desired to go
Where springs not fail,
To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail
And a few lilies blow.
And I have asked to be
Where no storms come,
Where the green swell is in the havens dumb,
And out of the swing of the sea.
Illustration: Repentant Mary Magdalene, Gerard Seghers 1591 to 1651
Weltanschauung 
Your growing experiential consciousness of the infinite objectivity of Reality’s existence, as opposed to the perennially evil, subjective failures of the finite human mind, continues apace in yet another thoughtful sololiquy Anthony.
Onwards and upwards!!
As ever,
Keith.
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“One person who has mastered life is better than a thousand persons who have mastered only the contents of books”.
Knowledge and information may sound the same to some, but as you know they are polar opposites when it comes to experience.
A chef can write a passage in a cookbook detailing how wonderful the smell of fresh bread truly is, but until you actually experience the smell itself, it’s just information on a page; there is no substitute for actual experience. Walking past a bakery as the sun rises whilst others lay deep in slumber, as invisible vapours of roasted wheat and yeast hit the hairs inside the nostrils, hitting the senses that execute a release of brain chemicals that trigger an emotional response and an inner “mmmmmm” or in fact “ooommmm, then and only then does one truly know what fresh bread smells like.
Information + Experience = Knowing.
I’m not sure if you have seen the film Good Will Hunting. There is a monologue (which in my opinion is the best ever upon the silver screen, Bill Pullman in Independence Day a close second :D), delivered by the sadly departed Robin Williams that encapsulates the difference between information and experience:
Sean: Thought about what you said to me the other day, about my painting. Stayed up half the night thinking about it. Something occurred to me… fell into a deep peaceful sleep, and haven’t thought about you since. Do you know what occurred to me?
Will: No.
Sean: You’re just a kid, you don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talkin’ about.
Will: Why thank you.
Sean: It’s all right. You’ve never been out of Boston.
Will: Nope.
Sean: So if I asked you about art, you’d probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written.
Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life’s work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right?
But I’ll bet you can’t tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You’ve never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that.
If I ask you about women, you’d probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can’t tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy.
You’re a tough kid. And I’d ask you about war, you’d probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, “once more unto the breach dear friends.”
But you’ve never been near one. You’ve never held your best friend’s head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help.
I’d ask you about love, you’d probably quote me a sonnet. But you’ve never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn’t know what it’s like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn’t know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms “visiting hours” don’t apply to you.
You don’t know about real loss, ’cause it only occurs when you’ve loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you’ve ever dared to love anybody that much.
And look at you… I don’t see an intelligent, confident man… I see a cocky, scared shitless kid.
But you’re a genius Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine, and you ripped my fucking life apart.
You’re an orphan right?
[Will nods]
Sean: You think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you are, because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you?
Personally… I don’t give a fuck about all that, because you know what, I can’t learn anything from you, I can’t read in some fucking book.
Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. Then I’m fascinated. I’m in. But you don’t want to do that do you sport? You’re terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.”
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How very apt. I miss Robin Williams greatly. There are so many of his films which made such a huge impact on me. Dead Poet’s Society was unforgettably moving. This film I have not seen – I will chase it down.
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Your summary of what truly matters in your explorations is encouraging and thought-provoking. I very much appreciate your earnest expressions of the benefits of a viewpoint that speaks to what is “good and life affirming and reassuring.”
Keep looking forward and seeking what you seek. We, your readers, are the beneficiaries of your thoughtful and informed views on this very important aspect of social and (dare I say) spiritual commerce.
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Very kind of you to say so John. Yes, I think we must all seek the life affirming and see if we can not glance a glimpse of something greater and better out there or up there. I keep hoping!
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