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.
