Sunday 30 November 2014

Resurfacing for a Moment

          It has been nearly two months since I put virtual 'pen to paper', a period during which I have wandered, or perhaps more accurately stumbled, through an all-pervading darkness of uncertainty. I have sought answers without knowing what the questions were; sought ways and means without knowing where I was headed, or was being led. I see now that there will never be any kind of denouement to my life, although there will be periodic realisations of truth along the way. Those truths will never be subject to analysis because it is not in the nature of truth to be analysed. All I could ever do would be to talk about what I have experienced as truth, but never be able to describe the actual experience of truth.
          A new day has dawned, the first Sunday of Advent. Whilst I no longer care that much about the rituals so loved by the Church and its adherents, I am aware that somewhere deep inside me, some of the knowledge I carry is being transposed into 'knowing', and in so doing is becoming conscious. That realisation may be seen as a new dawn, an advent in its own right. It will pass as all things do, but the process will continue in a cyclic manner, as it always appears to do, bringing fresh advents built upon those of the past.
          When I look back over the period that constitutes my blogging life, I have talked about many things that have seemed to me to be about truth. What now surprises me is how terrifyingly close I have been. I use that word 'terrifying' with some care because I never, at least as far as I was aware, asked for those experiences of life. All I asked for was some relief from the burdens of a sleeping consciousness which would enable me to 'see' the life I was leading, to be delivered from a way of living that was little more than an egoistic wastefulness. I received so much and could never have imagined how much more I could and have received. There came a moment when I could no longer write a single word which others might read, afraid that I might rush in where angels might have feared to tread.
          To be presented, suddenly it seems, with an inner world that is all-encompassing, a world that is replete with such power of 'knowingness', a vast 'playground of spiritual giant-ness' in which spiritual extinction seems to be an ever-present risk, has been accompanied by an appalling sense of both love and wanting. And I do not know from whence those twin feelings come. I know only that they represent some kind of reflection, rather than an origin of psycho-spiritual energy.
          Where does all this come from? Where do I come from and how did it all happen? Somehow, I believe I am beginning to ask the correct questions. I cannot yet be certain, of course, but when the correct question arises I will also have the answer. Then will I be certain. That moment may not be too far away, because already I am beginning to know that I do not know;  that I am fast losing any desire to debate and argue. Instead I prefer to enter into dialogue, if not with others then with my own internal world. I am finding that as my interest in, and commitment to, the realm of the spirit increases (and it would seem that I no longer have much control over that) my desire for involvement in the non-essentials of the material world is declining. That loss of desire has crept up on me almost unawares. Yet the loss is real enough, as is the mild sense of grief that is its necessary accompaniment.
          Lest it be assumed that my experience of life is slipping into some general state of decline, of which my loss of desire for material involvement is merely a symptom, let me say here and now that in reality the opposite is true. I am beginning to feel a greater sense of aliveness than I have felt in many a year. Detachment, so misunderstood in its vernacular usage, is becoming the reality that I for so long have paid, maybe, only lip service.
          Now, I must bring this script to a close. I have satisfied a need to speak about where I have been, a wish to say to any who may be interested, that all is well - and getting better! I cannot say when next I will write. I would like to add that I continue to read with interest all that you say on your posts. Real friendships are not lightly dropped.
          To you all, including all those who read but decline to comment, I wish the very best of the season.

18 comments:

  1. Good morning, Tom (for the sun has just tipped over the tips of the tall trees here and is spilling brightness into all the dark corners)! "Advent, Advent, das erste Lichtlein brennt!" This is what my sweet Mama would say as she held the match to the first candle. After all the time I've had to ponder and wonder over the past 5 weeks, I think I'll celebrate Advent this year. When you write about "the relief from the burdens of a sleeping consciousness," I hear you loud and clear. May you move ever closer to the questions until you have them in your grasp. Stop by the Fünffingerplätzje' anytime. I'll be there!

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  2. And Good Morning to you Rouchswalwe, even though it is a cooling, damp, foggy afternoon here. It isn't miserable weather because the day is incapable of feeling anything, let alone misery. And I also am not experiencing anything negative.

    I loved your comment and the images it conjured up for me. I wish you a continuing recovery from your injuries. Yes, I do follow Funffingerplatz with great interest, even though often I have nothing which I feel is worth saying. Your posts always elicit some response inside me which seem to range from a smile to an ouch! My current response is something akin to joy and wonder, as well as a sense of hands-across-the-waters.

    Thank you for your best wishes, and happy celebrations of Advent.

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  3. Tom, I am so happy to read this as I have missed your alwasys very thought provoking posts. I am happy that all is well with you and getting better too! Thank you for being here in this strange blog world, and for your visits to my much more frivolous blog.

    I wish you a happy Advent season and all good Health!

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  4. Thank you Marja-Leena. It is good to come in and share in a friendship.

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  5. Thomas, my friend, how good to have you back among us. I have missed your thoughtful posts. And I wish you, too, the best of the season.

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    1. Thank you Bruce. I have never been very far away, but somehow the step from here to there has seemed to be too great, at least for awhile.

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  6. Yes indeed, very happy to hear your cyber-voice again, Tom, and to know that your spirit is flying high and free. Long may it continue its journey.

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    1. Dear Natalie! The journey has been a long one. Every now and then I get a sense of acrophobia, and I would not care to suffer the fate of Icarus. Maybe that sounds somewhat fanciful, but hubris on the one hand and complacency on the other are two dangers always to be avoided.

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  7. Many truths we search for are simply too intense for analysis. I can't believe their solution is insuperable outside the faith of arid orthodoxy, but they keep us searching --if we are true to ourselves.

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  8. Hullo Geo. Good to hear from you. I find myself in complete agreement with you. I would almost extend your comment and say that to discover truth it seems to be almost mandatory to step outside 'the faith of arid orthodoxy.' However, my reservations about extending your comment arise from the written recordings of all the courageous men and women of all faiths who have searched for their truth from inside the orthodox environment.

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  9. I find myself in concord with so much in your post here, and especially "when the correct question arises I will also have the answer". Reading it has felt good. Like finding the hand of a friend to hold while walking in the dark. Good to know you are here Tom.

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  10. Hi Tom
    By necessity I think we experience truth, but mostly our ideas of truth come from intuition and deduction shaped from our obligations and values. Of course, this is all subject to change as we aim to unravel “the deceivers” and rethink within our fallible memories. As a prior Aussie Prime Minister famously once remarked “Life was not meant to be easy”. Best wishes

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    1. Thank you Lindsay, and welcome back. More and more I seem to find the determination of truth from any source other than experience, to be flawed. The problem I have with 'truth' shaped by 'obligations and values' is that they may have become my obligations and values by default, that is to say handed down to me without my consciously evaluating them. But as you say, we (must) aim to unravel the "the deceivers" (in whatever shape and form they may appear).

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  11. There have been thousands of lines written about the quest for enlightenment, but no matter how gifted the writer, nor how wise, none have ever described the journey in its entirety. That is for the seeker alone. I have heard it said by a few I've read that stabilization can take years.

    You have given us a great gift, Tom, in your openness and in your sincerity to describe your passage to higher knowledge. I'm very grateful. I also wish you well as we pause on our different paths to exchange greetings and good wishes for the road ahead. We will meet again.

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    1. Hullo Susan. Nice to hear from you again; you have been missed on Gwynt. I am so happy that what I have offered has been so well, and respectfully, received. Sometimes the spirit may fly like a bird; all too often it seems that it struggles to take off at all. Thank you for your good wishes, and yes, somewhere, somehow, we will meet again.

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  12. It's much appreciated that you make contact in this way, and acknowledge your community of readers, even when it becomes apparent that your journey, or your researches---both metaphors seem appropriate---don't lend themselves too well to the release of interim progress reports. I'm currently going through something possibly similar, realizing that writing is a) an essential tool of research in reaching deeper understanding of the inner world and b) an instrument for playing tunes to entertain an audience. The competing claims of (a) and (b) have been causing me to abandon essays one after the other, as they got into a hopeless tangle.

    But things are well for you and getting better. This is what matters! Enjoy the season meanwhile, & thanks for the reassuring update.

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  13. My thanks Vincent. I, too, have come to realise that writing is not optional extra in my life, but a necessary tool in the furtherance of my experience. I wish you well for your journey, happy in the knowledge that you will, one day, 'arrive.'

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