And So To Continue

It seems to me that there are two forces operating inside me, each one seeing my developing spiritual life from a different and opposing perspective. On the one hand there is that awareness of Selfness, or consciousness, that suffers under the illusion of its being the bearer of ultimate reality, that sees growth only in terms of being spiritually upwardly mobile, growing and adding to what has gone before. It sees my life as a process of constant acquisition in one form or another. On the other hand, there is that other force, largely unconscious, that is as close to Reality as I can imagine, that sees my spiritual growth as a continual movement downwards, of disposing of, and losing, all the false accretions of my past life.

To describe all that I have experienced since last I submitted a post on this site, would be impossible. Yet it would be enough to fill this site for many weeks to come. In an effort not to make obvious mistakes, I have nevertheless made mistakes. In an effort to reach, at least towards, perfection I have fallen far short, and rightly so. I have set myself goals that were doomed to failure, such as posting every Saturday without fail. At the time of my decision to do that, I thought I was imposing a useful and even necessary discipline on my activities. It would have been better to have concentrated more on the discipline of my daily meditations and other spiritual exercises, and to have written as and when it felt appropriate. In deciding to drop that, and other, strictures on my posts, I have engaged in the process of disposing of, and losing, false accretions. Going backwards and downwards seems to be a thoroughly exhilarating way to go onwards and upwards, as C. S. Lewis phrased it.

Thus it is with what feels to be a tentative, even perhaps nervous, post I am continuing where I left off last month. It feels good to be coming back.

A Time To Pause

An Open Door

I have observed of late, and I intimated as much in a recent comment, that over the last few months I have experienced a growing sense of weariness. I have therefore decided to take a rest from writing for a few weeks. During this period I hope to assess where I am with Gwynt, and where I wish to go in the future. It will also include, hopefully, getting some sleep free of disturbing dreams. When one refuses to listen to inner promptings, doors begin to close. I intend that my inner doors shall remain open.  

A Fearful Warning, Part 2 of 2

My Vision of Torment

There have been very few times in my spiritual life when I have felt truly afraid. This was one such occasion. It occurred at the time when I realised that there was no future in my relationship with the person in my life, suffering from advanced alcoholism, unless I could effect some changes. As it happened, the following two weeks were to show me that there was to be no future with her at all. But that is jumping too far ahead. At that time I could only see, but dimly, a few hours ahead at a time. Without going into any more detail, I will return to the guest house where I was alone in my room.  I seemed to be so very wide awake........   

"..........I stood, alone, watching the cosmos from a circular window in space. Galaxies wheeled in disinterested splendour, stars shone in self-contained aloneness. And I looked into the depths of silence. To one side hung a huge baggage of energies, and heaven alone knows what deeper aspects of my Self, parcelled into four bulging quarters with strangling cords. Every now and then lightning strikes ripped inwards causing the baggage to throb with frustrated fury, eager to break free. To my left, a green and golden curtain forged from hexagonal, carbon-shaped, molecular links rippled gently as if rhythmically disturbed by a cosmic breeze.

  But ahead floated a figure, terrible in his strength and determination. Garbed in the light brown habit of a monk, he watched me with a frightening intensity. As my gaze travelled downwards I saw that his body was becoming extended and his legs stretched and drawn. Below him whirled a cosmic maelstrom. Horrified, I felt the silent vibrations of millions of stars being ground into oblivion in a voracious, black hole. I looked up again into the face of the monk, and I felt so deeply, so terribly afraid.........."

 (From my private diaries.)

That experience almost defies explanation, except that it was clear that I was in great psychological danger. I needed, regardless of all my struggles to understand, simply to observe and accept what I saw. Somehow, the experience went beyond any form of inner language written in imagery. It needed to be accepted in its own right, on its own terms. Any attempted interpretation would have intellectualised and thus degraded the experience. Somehow, something seemed to be attempting to communicate with another and inner part of me, desperate in its need to warn me of my extreme danger. So it is that I have presented the experience just as it happened.

Interestingly for me, that was the first time I ever had such an experience, but it wasn't to be the last. It seemed as if, in my extremity, something needed to make itself known, and having done so I was then able to engage in the imaging process I have reported in my posts, almost at will. Indeed, from that moment onwards, I was never truly able to stop the imagery appearing whilst simultaneously maintaining a meditative state, or to prevent being overwhelmed whenever that inner 'presence beyond the veil' required my attention. It has been called a gift, and I think it probably is. It is also a privilege to be invited to converse, even if only one-sidedly, with my deeper Self.

The following weeks were to be a time of great spiritual turmoil and pain, in which my personality was dissected in painful detail. Gradually I learned to see myself as I really was, rather than how I had imagined myself to be, and out of that experience came a recognisably spiritual need, a drive to Be. Having learned something of the egoistic falsities of the life I was living, I began to long for something deeper, more true and worthwhile in life. Beyond those longings I could not know what it was I was really seeking. That was to come later. It was the beginning of a journey that I have never for one moment considered giving up. It has had its moments of difficulty but also times of great joy and exhilaration. Yet the living of this Way is not something that I have, because there is always the possibility that one can lose a possession. Rather it is the Being of the Way that is important, and my being, in all its totality, will not be lost. 

A Fearful Warning, Part 1 of 2

The Upper Room

..........When did it all begin? When did You begin to call me? There was a time when my life seemed to be coming apart, when I was barely able to carry out even the simplest of tasks. Inside, I felt lost, that I had slipped into the darkness of a bottomless, black hole vortex from which there could be no escape. I had tried for too long to help, manage, control someone close to me, in my fight against her alcoholism. Did I do it out of love or need? But I despised love as a weakness: I claimed to have no need, that I was self-sufficient. You were not even a glimmer on my inner horizon.

  In time all doors, save one, seemed closed to me. To pass beyond that door would require my ending of the uneven struggle to survive. My emotional pain was extreme, but to end the struggle, to give in, seemed to be the ultimate folly, one more act of insanity which must surely have dire consequences. Yet the more I struggled, even to the limit of my resources and perhaps beyond, the further into the darkness I slipped.

  One night I lay in bed in an upper room in a guest house. Above me hung the pitched, wooden ceiling so reminiscent of a small church. Was I asleep? Had I awoken? On the ceiling was portrayed the powerful image of a tormented cosmos. Was it, perhaps, a vision? Surely not! This was me in the late twentieth century. Things like that didn't happen any more, did they? But I watched, astounded, then slept. Maybe it was then that I heard You call to me, though I did not recognise You.  

  I sought an end to my hurt. I wanted someone else to carry the burden that was my life for a while, just for a little while, a burden I could no longer carry alone. It was for that reason only that I accepted the offered help of sanctuary. Not for one moment was I searching for You, for God. I did not even remember that You could have been part of my life, and love had seemingly become a travesty of anything remotely worthy of that name. With that simple, if desperate, acceptance of help, in whatever form it would come, for I no longer had the energy or will to care, the way was opened for You. Although I could not know it then it was the moment a new day began to dawn..........

                                                                              (From my private diaries.)

All those years ago, yet sometimes it seems like yesterday. Perhaps it was the most important turning point in my life.

The Shores of Galilee

(A Study in Oils)

..........Below me lie the dark waters of Galilee, deep and brooding. Overhead an umbrella of silent, stormy-looking, grey clouds stretches to the horizon. I drift to the west to where the waters lap gently against a beach.  And there stands the Cross. It stands at the boundary of darkness and light, inner and outer, spiritual and material, real and unreal..........and death and life. Here on the shores of Galilee we, the Cross and I, stand at the boundary between the unconscious Foundation of my being and the Kingdom of my consciousness. The Cross also stands at the boundary of what is and what is only perceived to be, an infinite universe approaching the threshold of interpretation by the personal, finite mind.

          The Cross stands erect, its foot floating deep in the Earth's core beyond my consciousness; seemingly on fire but remaining unconsumed. Far above me beyond the clouds of unknowing, the Cross reaches upwards into the heavens towards the lighted Crown of creation. The Cross..........yes of course..........it stands over the boundary between one state and another. Truly, it stands at the Crossover point.

          Where the vertical crosses the horizontal, at the coexistence of all opposites, the point of paradox, hangs a Rose. At its very heart is darkness, dark matter, dark energy, a vortex of darkness. And I sense an uneasiness, as if trying to face the awful possibility that the observed universe is nothing more than a projection of my mind, an image that hides another reality that I can never know. How can I know what is, by gnosis? A dangerous, exciting idea. A way of knowing that requires the deepest awareness of doubt and uncertainty, as well as humility.

          But the nature of the Cross is changing. No longer is it a Rose Cross, but a Calvary Cross. At the point of paradox hangs an ancient skeleton, long dead and partly obscured in a mist of uncertainty. Yet one living Eye remains in its socket and watches me as I move and survey the watcher. What is it that I see? I see that it is only that it is. Yet that also is what I am!..........Sacrifice?..........A sacrifice, or  a continuous sacrificial act that reaches back to the very dawn of creation?

          The Dark is closing in once more, and I must leave..........

(Images from my meditations on the Rose Cross)          

The explanation of this meditation is proving to be rather more difficult than I had first imagined. To begin with it appears to be a combination of two meditations with the Cross appearing in two different guises. The meditation began as an inner investigation of the Rose Cross, and therefore it is natural and expected that an equal-armed Cross should appear. The fact that a change takes place, and a Calvary Cross replaces the Rosicrucian image, is significant. That is one of the unexpected events which must be investigated. The other is the appearance at the centre of the Rose of a black vortex.

This apparent combination of meditations can also be seen as an 'interference' or a 'contamination', both descriptions to be seen as being non-pejorative. But how and why would such contamination occur? Whilst not knowing how, I see three possible answers as to the why of it. The first reason could be an invitation to psychological denial. I will discount that on this occasion because the sublety that usually accompanies that invitation is missing. The second reason could be that the higher realm of the self has something important it wishes to communicate. On balance I suspect this is the case here. The third reason may simply be that further meditations and thought have clouded, or clarified, the existing recall of the primary meditation.  In effect this reason changes little, if anything, about the investigation.

It will be recalled that in a previous post, "L'Abbaye de Boquen" (posted 27.4.2013), I was told that I had not even scratched the surface of Christianity. Although I do not interpret that message as an invitation to pick up a religious thread in my life that I discarded decades ago, there is implicit in that earlier statement a call to uncover something that I have missed, something that is worth researching. There appear to be three interlinked strands in this meditation. The first strand, which I do not intend to develop, is the allusion to the mystical Qabalah through the terms Kingdom, Foundation and Crown. It is the two remaining strands which are of prime interest, the Rose Cross and its contained vortex, and the Calvary Cross and its skeletal image.

One final point must be made before an analysis of this meditation is attempted. In my experience, when my unconscious mind seeks to communicate with my consciousness or ego, it does so with images that have some meaning for me. That is to say, the images carry certain meanings and also consequences. This is why Christian symbolism as well as images relating to physics and astronomy play such a large part in my meditational life. On occasions, even ideas from favourite books and films/movies have a role to play. It's all language after all, and language is about symbols.  

The Rose Cross.

In a previous post, "Into the Abyss" (posted 22.6.2013), I described a journey into an inner, black hole vortex. It is this that lies at the centre, at the heart, of the Rose. In the material universe, according to current thinking, nothing can escape the pull of a black hole once the event horizon has been crossed. Even stars cannot evade their fate inside that presence. Nothing can come back to tell us what lies beyond the event horizon, any more than can anyone return from beyond the death event to tell what lies beyond. As the ego cries out in terror,

"Fly!  Do not jump!  It is too dangerous, and I will be lost!  I will surely die!"

Yet it is a journey that must be taken by each one of us, at some point in our lives. To experience that journey in virtual reality may be one of the greatest gifts the unconscious mind can bestow, particularly if in the end, we do in fact fall into the safety of no-where, of no-when. It is a state which the ego will never reach, any more than Moses was ever allowed to reach the promised land. One can only look beyond, and hope to get a glimpse of the far country.

The Calvary Cross.

This particular image of the Calvary Cross has given me much uncertainty as to its possible meaning. In fact it wasn't until I dreamed a dream very recently that I finally understood. Here is a very brief extract from that dream:-

..........She walked towards me, her arms outstretched. "May I remove your face, Dad? Do you look bizarre behind it?" I backed away terrified. "No you may not!" But I knew what lay behind my face, an inability to hide or influence with appropriate use of facial muscles what I truly thought and felt. She grinned.  "Okay Dad."..........

Thus, finally, I realised that the Eye, the inner "I", is what this is all about. Beyond the flesh, the face, the mask of the persona, lies the True Self. It is that Self which is the beneficiary of the act of sacrifice of the domination of the ego. Yet at a much deeper level I suspect that there is something about the concept of sacrifice, perhaps relating to the Higher realm of the Self, that I have yet to understand. And I fear to probe lest I lose that intuitive experience amongst a collection of words. For words can kill just as easily as they can draw forth understanding. 

Yet one thing more is apparent. If I have not yet scratched the surface of Christianity, then I must strip away any preconceived religious notions I have have been taught about Jesus the Christ; rid myself of any Jesus-personae images I have collected from the Church. I must go further than the scriptures or art, particularly Victorian art, and begin again to try to see the historical Jesus as he really was. An impossible task? Perhaps, but to dump all preconceptions about that man is better than having wrong perceptions. A correct 'not this, not that' is better than an incorrect 'he was this, and that'.

I would be surprised indeed, if I discover at some point in the future that I have plumbed the full depths of this composite meditation. All I can do is wait and watch, and have faith in the process. Whatever answers there are to be had lie deep inside me. I need to exercise patience. It is the Calvary concepts with which I need to deal, because they are more personal than the Rosicrucian material.

What Am I?

..........I become aware of my awareness, yet am nevertheless subject to random thoughts and a slight feeling of frustration.  Now and then I feel  physical discomfort.  In some way all those sensings are connected to my state of awareness, a massless, formless awareness.  There comes a moment when it seems as if all I need to do is to stop concentrating or focusing on anything.  In an odd way that leaves me in a kind of limbo where I am 'concentrated' almost by default on a nothingness.  I give up 'trying', at least for a series of momentary-nesses.  The links with the material world are still there in potential, but much weakened.  It isn't until the stillness moves that I realise how deeply I have travelled..........

                                                                              (An excerpt from my diaries)

How do I know that "I" exist, that is to say to exist as a reality?  I tacitly assume that I exist for two reasons. The first is that everyone around me assumes that they exist, although they may have no real existence at all. They may simply be holograms projected from data encoded on the boundary of the universe for all I know. On that basis, therefore, my assumed existence rests on very insecure foundations. The second reason that I assume I exist is that when in a state of meditation I am able to observe and become aware that there is that which is called the ego, false or virtual self which acts from its own consciousness. There are even occasions when I watch my actions, as if I am an independent observer. However, that status, independent of a virtual and therefore unreal self, may simply mean I exist but only relatively. Whilst this second reason gives a firmer basis for the assumption of existence, it is by no means entirely secure. The fact appears to be that I do not know myself, do not have enough information on which to form a firm conclusion.

Still I have the unanswered question before me, "What am I?" for I do not know. With effort I can know, through my intellect, much of what I am not. To all the statements that I might make as to what I am, I can answer, "No! Neither this, nor that!" Such statements of what I suppose myself to be merely describe my relationships with others, the many roles I play in life, my gender, my sexual orientation, the emotions I feel, and so on. Not one of those statements defines what I AM. As the Old Testament God said, allegedly, I AM THAT I AM! Take it or leave it! I offer, can offer, no explanations; nothing!

An inability to define myself, to know what I truly am, does not remove the urge to know. For so much of my life I have felt incomplete, two dimensional, like a cardboard cut-out. Now, I feel more complete. What has changed? What has happened inside me? Am I closer to knowing what I am? Is the consequence of all that I do, all that I seek, a growing sense of Being? Is what I am somehow a part of all that? Yet still I find myself at the mercy of powers I cannot control. Events occur within my unconscious mind of which I have no knowledge, much less understanding. Is it even possible to know what I am, the reality of what I am? 

And life passes. I do not. Oh yes, my body ages and tires. It almost seems as if my energies are steadily becoming converted into experiences and memories. But deep inside my being I am aware of that which does not seem to age. It is not so much everlasting, which implies time, but eternal, timeless, outside time. How can that be? If I, this tacitly assumed presence, could answer that question I might just get closer to knowing what I am, and maybe where I am.

The deeper I slip into meditation, the more I disidentify from all that would falsely claim to be my "I"-ness, the more I pass into a state of nothingness; no-thing-ness. Thoughts, emotions and senses come and pass on, but I remain. Images pass away and I am left behind. Do I sense fear? Maybe, or something like it perhaps. I sense an approaching state of ultimate emptiness, of a profound stillness that goes far beyond what my ego chooses to allow me, when it chooses to indulge me. I cannot force the pace of this new discovery, that I am nothing that I ever thought I was, or would want to become. I do not know what I am to be, because I first need to know what I am.

The Great Darkness of unknowing, of not understanding, steadily approaches, but I do not wish to turn away. This inner expanse of nothingness, this remnant of "I"-ness, would not wish to turn from the Presence that approaches, that somehow seeks me. Something else begins to tug at my attention. That something else forever seeks to dull my awareness of what is, my awareness of a new kind of freedom. That something, so full of its own fear, tugs again and again.  

"Do not leave me!" And I am held back;  my strength begins to wane. "I cannot face annihilation!"

That is not the real fear. To be left alone, to be lost, to be annihilated, implies I once Was and that I can remember. In that memory I am aware of a state of Having; I have a virtual being-ness. However, that is not true Being-ness. It is an illusion. I sense, but cannot know, that true Being-ness is having the slate wiped clean, to be nothing and nowhere except before a detached state of eternal presence; to be at one with the Reality of Eternal Presence.

And the Stillness moved........

A Fantasy Desert Island

The purpose of this post is to demonstrate how a guided pathworking can reveal some unsuspected incident, attitude or relationship information that may be lying in the unconscious mind.  In this instance, what is being sought is something about the relationship that existed between a child and its parents, in particular me and my parents.  Because it is a guided pathworking, sometimes called a fantasy journey, and not a freely flowing journey, certain key points need to be included and observed.

Before moving onto the details of the journey, perhaps I should describe my preferred meditation technique.  I am fortunate enough to have my own meditation room, which I darken almost completely, with just a single candle burning.  This enables me to be aware of some kind of presence, and also to stop me falling asleep.  If the room were too well-lit, that would interfere with the process, allowing too much light to penetrate my closed eyelids.   I sit in an almost upright chair, keeping my spine straight but not necessarily bolt upright, which can cause strain.  (If you do have a slight tum, a slightly leaning back posture helps to achieve unforced breathing. Meditation after a large meal is not advised.)  With eyes closed, I travel around my body slightly tensing and then relaxing, each part in turn starting from my feet (one at a time) and finishing with my breath and scalp.  At the same time, any slight discomforts are dealt with.  (Incidentally, I have never achieved anything like a lotus position, and frankly never try.  This is not an exercise in contortion olympics.)  By the end of this procedure, my breathing rate has decreased to around six natural breaths a minute, thus allowing certain rhythms in the brain to come into their own.  

A Fantasy Desert Island

And now to the journey itself.  It is helpful if the imagination is used to develop as realistic a setting as possible.  If the participant finds that they are beginning to drift upwards so that they are observing themselves on the inner journey, efforts need to be made to rejoin with their participating selves.  This tendency is not uncommon in the early stages of pathworking. So, first of all, the participant or traveller having entered a full state of meditation, begins the journey from a desert island.  Second, the traveller enters the surrounding sea or ocean, symbolic of the unconscious mind.  Third, having entered the water, it is necessary to continue the journey as far as the participant desires.  (In my experience, the deeper the better, so long as one can 'see' what is going on in the vicinity.)  Fourth, having arrived at some stopping point, the participant turns to face in the direction of the island, and waits.  Fifth, some image will manifest itself from the righthand direction, the father image.  Another image will emerge from the lefthand direction, the mother image.  What those images are, how they arrive, any interaction they may have between themselves, and with the participant either singly or together, is for the unconscious mind to decide.  In fact everything about this journey, other than the steps set out, is for the unconscious mind to decide.  Sixth, when any interaction is complete, the observing participant travels back toward the island, leaving the water as the end of the meditation approaches.  The key to this journey (as well as any journey involving imagery) is to observe what happens, without interfering with the unfolding story.

Below, I describe my experience of this particular journey.  If a reader of this post chooses to try this experiment, it must be remembered that this is my path, it isn't yours.  Your experience may well be very different from mine.

..........I began to walk towards the ocean, leaving the trees further and further behind me. Overhead the sun shone down from a perfectly blue sky.  To my right, the gently sloping beach stretched unbroken as far as I could see;  I was unaware of the beach very far to my left.  At last I reached the water's edge, the sand still remarkably firm underfoot.  There seemed to be very little, if any, movement in the water so that as I walked further into the ocean, the water rose steadily up my legs, over my trunks and up to my waist and on until it reached my throat.  For a moment I wondered, then the water was over my head and I found that I could breathe without any discomfort.

          Shafts of light shone down into the water producing a strange but beautiful sparkling effect. There was also some movement of shadows as if clouds had suddenly appeared in the sky.  I continued to walk out into the deepening ocean until the water around me began to take on a darkened, gloomy aspect.  I noticed that the sand beneath my feet was beginning to be swallowed in darkness.  It was time to turn and face the direction from which I had come;  back towards the island, and await events.

          I noticed some slight movement in the darkness off to my right, but closer to the island than me. My retreat was effectively blocked.  As the movement became more pronounced, a large, white shark swam into the light.  It swam this way and that, with a sideways undulating movement, one of its eyes continually watching me.  Once it made a lunge towards me, but at the last moment veered off to my right.  It was at that point that I became aware that I was completely naked and vulnerable.  If I could have felt anything, it would have been an uneasy watchfulness on my part, and a coldblooded disinterest on his.  

          After watching the shark for some while I observed the arrival of an indistinct shadowiness from my left.  As it swam into the light I realised that it was an equally large, black octopus.  She swam much closer to me and seemed to confront the shark.  They each made lunging movements towards each other, but no real contact was made.  Then she slipped behind me, grabbed me with her crushing tentacles, and turned me to my right so that I directly faced the shark.  I was trapped between them, unable to throw off her stranglehold, or defend myself from the shark.

          The waters around us, whilst not stormy, became agitated.  Then the shark lunged at me and struck.  He was overwhelming.  He had struck me somewhere below my waist, yet my legs remained firm and untouched.  She lashed out forcing him to withdraw.  But she would not let me go, neither did she choose to adopt a position between me and the shark.  Steadily she crushed me tighter and tighter. I had to do something to save myself.  I looked up.  High above me, how deep the waters had become, appeared a great sword hanging vertically, hilt upwards like a Calvary Cross.  I reached up in desperation and down it plummeted.  Somehow I managed to grab the sword with both hands on the hilt, reached upwards and backwards, then thrust the sword with all my strength into the octopus. There was a shudder through the water, and she released me.

          Both the octopus and the shark, as well as the sword had disappeared.  The confrontation was over, and I began my way back towards the beach.  It grew steadily lighter, until my head broke the surface of the water.  On I walked onto dry land.  The sun still shone from a cloudless sky.  The only marks on the beach were my own footsteps.  Yet something had changed.  It was as if an invisible veil blocked something beneficial from radiating from the sun.  I began to feel a sense of shame, of guilt, and of an indefinable darkness.  Thus was I roused from my meditation..........

Clearly, because the shark (my father) and the octopus (my mother) are described as large, this experience relates to a time in my early childhood, even perhaps in my infancy.  The confrontation was apparently very destructive on a psychological level.  It all seemed to be about control and ownership.

What is of crucial significance in this encounter is that on a conscious level (the desert island's beach, smooth under a warm sun in a cloudless sky) everything seemed normal.  Yet my unconscious perception of what was happening was very different.  And it must be stressed that this is all a matter of perception.  That unconscious perception is my only truth.  To attempt to replace those perceptions by some form of 'what-actually-happened-in-the-real-world' could only 'intellectualise' the event.  It would not succeed in arriving at any substantive truth that could claim any greater objectivity than my unconscious perceptions had already revealed.  Such an attempt would only further the ends of psychological denial, and to rubbish the feelings of the participants; most importantly in this event, mine. 

One final point, in the exercise described above, an account of certain happenings has been passed from the beyond-conscious mind into consciousness.  Its real significance can only be measured against a background of such disclosures.  In other words, to arrive at a more meaningful conclusion about one's inner world, to "Know Thyself" more fully, a continual ongoing search into one's inner life needs to be undertaken.  That is what my journey is about, whatever it may reveal.

Footnote:      Readers of Gwynt might be interested to note that I have added an extra explanatory script to my side bar, regarding matters relating to my meditations under the title, "Something Extraordinary".