I am bored and, damn it, I am angry. Frustrated? Maybe, but that is too mild a word. I pick up a book, cast a cursory glance over its contents, and throw it down in disgust. I am dry; it's as if all the moisture has been drained from my spiritual being. I've had enough; no more reading, no more writing; no more blogging. I say again, I have had enough! I want to walk away and leave it all behind me.
It would seem that wherever I turn I am following someone else's agenda; reading what those authors have said; following in their footsteps. Well what about me? No, I'm not indulging in self-pity, I want to know where I stand with that which I choose to call God, and what I am supposed to be doing. If I ever catch up with that divinity, so help me there will be the very Devil Heaven to pay. I am tired and I am angry. Didn't I say that already? Well I'll say it again: I am angry! Now don't let the Church or one of its representatives say that anger is a sin, without issuing a sharp rebuttal. It isn't a sin! Anger is not like a bullet that is designed to kill. It is like a car that is designed to get one somewhere, quickly and efficiently. Anger is what it is, an emotion, a very powerful concentration of energy. It is only the self-indulgent ego that insists anger must be assuaged through violence.
Oh what is the point of it all? I want to know where my life must go, what I must do. But I do not simply want my wishes indulged in for the sake of my ego. I want to know because it is needful that I take at least some responsibility for myself. So, God, don't indulge me! Show me!
Through all my ranting at God, I know that no matter what I choose to discard, there is one thing I will not let slide. I will return to my room, and I will meditate and give that Power some of my time. Yet all I have on which to meditate is my anger in my private desert.
I light a candle, my symbol of Life; I light a joss stick to symbolise, not a sacrifice but, my spirit freely offered. I pull down the blind, for this is now a private, sacred place. And all the while Gregorian Chant plays softly in the background. Slowly my anger subsides:-
".........I find myself sitting on a throne situated halfway down a flight of stairs. Try as I will I am unable to get any lower. Gently but insistently, I am returned to my throne. Before long I cease from trying and wait, all the while taking in the layout of this place. Below me at the foot of the stairs is the floor, rather like a private theatre stage. And it is very private, for this is my personal Temple. At the centre of the square floor is a low, square table - or is it an altar? - covered in what I know to be a white, samite cloth. Everything about this Temple is pleasing to my eye; it does in a very real sense appeal to me.
Behind me. the stairs continue up towards the door that shuts out the light of the outside world. I have no interests out there. What captivates my interest is the presence of three more stairways leading up from the floor below me, through simple, Gothic arches to who knows where? Again I am struck by the pleasing simplicity and intimacy of this Temple.
"Oh God, do not indulge me, please! Let me hear only what I need to hear."
Each stairway ascends from one of the remaining sides of the floor so that the floor appears to be a landing stage, a meeting place, or a place from which journeys will begin. And suspended in mid-air, below the highest point of the Gothic ceiling hangs a sword, pointing downwards, the Sword of Truth.
Now I am beginning to understand. Before I can rise to new, as yet undiscovered, heights, or perhaps return to old places made new, I must first descend to the landing stage, I must first go deeper. I might not have chosen to do that, if indeed I have that measure of control, if all had been well and comfortable beyond the stairs behind me. But all is not comfortable in the desert, and for that reason I am here, where I need to be. And here will I wait until......well until whatever must happen, does happen.........."
[My morning meditation.]
Fascinating insights into another's frustration with this universe we have somehow been covenanted to take part in Tom.
ReplyDeleteTimely perhaps for in my case, I have just made a conscious choice to apply a new-found confidence that there is more that will be revealed and will be relevant to that covenant, to indulge my ego (no rage as yet, but it is possible too).
Somehow being patient and letting life be seems to have meaning in this context.
All my best wishes to you on your walk out of the desert.
Halle; I await your developments with interest. My thanks for your best wishes.
ReplyDeleteTom, I want to give you a hug! I recognise so well those feelings you're describing, I've even written somewhere in my long-ago diaries: "God, give me instructions!" That sense of being here to serve some specific but unknown purpose and waiting to hear from the mysterious Boss who doesn't ever reveal what it might be but occasionally leaves indecipherable clues lying around - oh yes, I know the feeling!
ReplyDeleteSome people might say it's arrogance or self-delusion to believe we do have some God-given purpose but I don't agree. The feeling may be naive and child-like but it it is real and it has deep and valid roots. However successful, talented, purposeful one might be in one's day to day life, that Other purposefulness, that sense of waiting for instructions, is meaningful and it matters. I don't know why or how it works but it matters and I wholly empathise with your questions.
Natalie; I struggle to respond to your comment because it is so to the point. Clearly we are at one on this matter. A big, big hug, huh? And a knowing grin!
ReplyDeleteYour meditation makes me think of Egypt. Or perhaps an Aztec temple. Don't know why but maybe it means I'm image-motivated. Keep on keepin' on, my friend.
ReplyDeleteI find these visualizations of yours very effective in showing me just what you're experiencing during your meditations. As you intimate, the awakening continues at its own pace, it can't be rushed.
ReplyDeleteBruce; That's interesting, particularly because although I think of myself as a N.W.European, my imagery is very English. It may well be that something subconscious is being triggered to speak in symbols. (Perhaps in a former life (?) you were an Egyptian weather forecaster, or an Aztec scribe. :))
ReplyDeleteSusan; That is very gratifying. It will be of interest to see whether yesterday's imagery is a one-off comment, or whether it is the start of an impromptu pathworking. But as you say, it cannot be rushed.
ReplyDeleteI found myself yesterday and today rereading a few sections of the first book on meditation I've ever read. I haven't been still enough in years. You've emboldened me to write a bit about it, and I hope to do so over the next while. Thanks, Tom, for the work you are sharing here.
ReplyDeleteI think I said that wrong. I have a number of books on meditation, but just one would suffice if I did the work it calls for. Rereading the first one again after all these years is both humbling and a bit exhilarating.
ReplyDeleteI look forward to reading what you have to say.
ReplyDeleteI'm intrigued by the levels, the dimensions, and the three arches. Depth, height, width, and something else.
ReplyDeleteAs am I, Rouchswalwe. But I must exercise patience. There are other matters to be dealt with first.
ReplyDeleteTom, I've come back to reread this, another fascinating stage in your journey. Travel well!
ReplyDeleteThank you Marja-Leena.
ReplyDelete