A bare impersonal hush is now my mind,
A world of sight clear and inimitable,
A volume of silence by a Godhead signed,
A greatness pure, virgin of will.
Once on its pages Ignorance could write
In a scribble of intellect the blind guess of Time
And cast gleam-messages of ephemeral light,
A food for souls that wander on Nature's rim.
But now I listen to a greater Word
Born from the mute unseen omniscient Ray:
The Voice that only Silence' ear has heard
Leaps missioned from an eternal glory of Day.
All turns from a wideness and unbroken peace
To a tumult of joy in a sea of wide release.
-Sri Aurobindo
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Why on Earth?
"But why on earth," you may ask, "should it be necessary for man to achieve, by hook or by crook, a higher level of consciousness?" This is truly the crucial question, and I do not find the answer easy. Instead of a real answer I can only make a confession of faith: 1 believe that, after thousands and millions of years, someone had to realize that this wonderful world of mountains and oceans, suns and moons, galaxies and nebulae, plants and animals, exists. From a low hill in the Athi plains of East Africa I once watched the vast herds of wild animals grazing in soundless stillness, as they had done from time immemorial, touched only by the breath of a primeval world. I felt then as if I were the first man, the first creature, to know that all this is. The entire world round me was still in its primeval state; it did not know that it was. And then, in that one moment in which I came to know, the world sprang into being; without that moment it would never have been. All Nature seeks this goal and finds it fulfilled in man, but only in the most highly developed and most fully conscious man.
CG Jung - "Psychological Aspects of the Mother Archetype" (1939). In CW 8: The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche. P. 177
Friday, November 21, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Diversity and the Machine
I've been thinking recently regarding how diversity and abundance arise spontaneously in the universe and the existence of an opposing force which exists for the sake of control and manageability. I'm thinking of the apparent duality that is seen in the world between these two forces.
On one side there is quality (Think Amish quilts) and the other quantity (Think McDonalds).
On one side there is concrete reality here and present. You can touch it, feel it, be in it and be it. There is nothing outside it. It's as real as it gets.
On the other side are to-do-lists, the countless "hurry ups", "Can't stop now, I got this deadline you see.", "What were you thinking?.", etc etc.
When we get so caught up in the franticness of maximizing whatever it is we're maximizing, where are the moments that we actually bask in the abundance that is already there. How often can we look at another person and instead of seeing a human resource, project, wife, or student, we see an angel?
Well, I'm going to go back to trying my darndest to be internally silent and present. Here is a youtube post by bbbleaver I just ran across which seemed to resonate with these thoughts.
On one side there is quality (Think Amish quilts) and the other quantity (Think McDonalds).
On one side there is concrete reality here and present. You can touch it, feel it, be in it and be it. There is nothing outside it. It's as real as it gets.
On the other side are to-do-lists, the countless "hurry ups", "Can't stop now, I got this deadline you see.", "What were you thinking?.", etc etc.
When we get so caught up in the franticness of maximizing whatever it is we're maximizing, where are the moments that we actually bask in the abundance that is already there. How often can we look at another person and instead of seeing a human resource, project, wife, or student, we see an angel?
Well, I'm going to go back to trying my darndest to be internally silent and present. Here is a youtube post by bbbleaver I just ran across which seemed to resonate with these thoughts.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Make Art not War
Artwork by Shepard Fairey
I recently found this manifesto by Mary Anne Davis here.
The current differentiation between art, architecture, craft, and design is false, it is a false schism promoted by the art world. This unnatural taxonomy has crippled the artists and turned those who participate or attempt to participate into victims of fashion. Walter Gropius said in his manifesto of the Bauhaus, “There is no essential difference between the artist and the craftsperson. The artist is an exalted craftsperson.” (sic)
The conscious cooperation and collaboration of artists and craftspeople must be reintroduced to rise above the current constriction and strangulation extant in the art world.
This artistic differentiation and intolerance, based on prejudice and fear of commerce, must stop. We must take matters back into our own hands and return to the idealism of our youth. Art schools filled us with impossible dreams and gave us no concrete way of supporting ourselves except through teaching, working at odd or related jobs
or that most coveted and jealously desired possibility, hitting it big.
It is time to take back the power inherent in our decision to become artists and to work at a grass roots level to create objects for use and contemplation that uplift the spirit. Participate in craft fairs. Make Xerox art. Sell art cheaply. Explore unexpected venues. Embrace commerce. The most important artists throughout history were
adroit business people.
When Albert Einstein discovered the theory of relativity, he wanted to explain it so that a school child could understand it. Let our work become that clear. Our ideas can be challenged and clarified by a direct experience with the public.
Make useful, beautiful, interesting, and or challenging objects. Use your talent and intelligence to educate an inquisitive public. Make a living doing what you love to do. Be irreverent. Get up. Get going.
There is a revolution going on in science, math, economics, sociology and psychology that is recognizing the parallel experiences of all the disciplines. Conciliance. Synthesis. Invite the public. Make art. Not war.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Love
1 If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am become sounding brass, or a clanging cymbal. 2 And if I have the gift of prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge; and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3 And if I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and if I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profiteth me nothing.
4 Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, 5 doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not its own, is not provoked, taketh not account of evil; 6 rejoiceth not in unrighteousness, but rejoiceth with the truth; 7 beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
8 Love never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall be done away; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall be done away. 9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part: 10 but when that which is perfect is come, that which is in part shall be done away. 11 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I felt as a child, I thought as a child: now that I am become a man, I have put away childish things. 12 For now we see in a mirror, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I have been known. 13 But now abideth faith, hope, love, these three; and the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Going quiet shhhh..
I read this in "The Wisdom of Solomon" this morning. I hope it wasn't meant to be taken literally. It's pretty lame if it was. Taken metaphorically it had an impact on me.
My last post and response to my friend Joel, has really bothered me for awhile. I'm often in a rush to push my opinion out there because I think that I have so many important things to say. And sometimes I think I'm really really clever in the way I say things. I think, at least hope that everyone else knows better.
But even when I'm quiet (because I'm not a good conversationalist - usually a conversation killer), I sometimes think the poor other is so lost, so I'll just sit here and feel badly for them. Sometimes also my envious feelings keep me outwardly quiet too. But inside my little calculating engine is always and tirelessly cranking away from dawn to dusk throwing out it's agenda net onto the world. And it's so noisy too. Lately the wind has been blowing the net back and I'm getting tangled in it.
I wonder how often instead I just sit and listen to a friend, wife or one of my kids and just be with them. Everyone I love that I share my life with so deserves the best things from me. To do this I have to let go of all sorts of things I can't see clearly that seem to be me. In short, I have to let go of who-I-think-I-am.
Life has a way of filling up with all the trite things that seem so urgent at the time and pushing out the really important yet unassuming parts - you know - the raindrops on roses and puppy dog tails kind of stuff; the only things that are really real.
Who-I-think-I-am requires a lot of energy to maintain, energy that I suspect would flow beautifully and in the most divine ways if it weren't diverted thusly. That's why I started this spiritual quest in the first place. Because in a few precious and beautiful moments in life, a scent like an incense wafted or sometimes pushed through and past who-I-think-I-am and I turned my head for just a second. Gradually I became hooked.
Like the time I was caught off guard when my three year old son said "Look at my shit, my shit is new. Do you like it?". He couldn't pronounce his 'r' sound and was referring to his shirt. I thought it was precious to tears.
There was the time my first daughter was born and the doctor put this wet slick babyish thing in my arms saying "Here's your daughter", and I was overwhelmed beyond words to the complete helplessness of that moment.
This was just raw life, the most ordinary thing really. Everyone experiences this kind of stuff.
Spiritual practices have the effect of accelerating these kind of moments. That is, the moments aren't really being accelerated so much as I'm waking up to more and more of them more often. The truth is there is no deficiency of these moments at any time - they're always there, at least that what the great teachers say. My experience seems to be confirming this so far.
And each of these moments have a wounding effect on who-I-think-I-am. And it's sometimes painful and sometimes unbearable. And yet there is a also sweetness in this wounding. Gradually I have the sense of falling in love. Each time who-I-think-I-am is wounded I become more helpless in love.
Who or what is the object of this love? I've learned to call her Sophia. I even named my last child in her honor because to me she is life itself, although hidden most the time.
I don't think who-I-think-I-am knows anything about her yet. He's pretty busy falling apart these days and trying to pick up the pieces. Pretty morbid actually. It's an internally messy affair that gets into everything I do including writing these words and posting.
My understanding is this process is called Agon or sometimes referred to as the dark nights.
There is a small handful of people who actually read this blog. Yeah I figured out how to track that - pretty cool actually. It is for you and me that I'm going to shut up for awhile till I get through this. It could be several years. Who knows.
I don't want to mislead anyone who is looking for spiritual direction and there is a lot of us really. I have a tough enough time sorting through other peoples spiritual trash and taking all the wrong things to heart. I know I shouldn't be contributing to anyone else's confusion.
I don't think I can write this blog till I have more clarity myself. I need to refocus on my own spiritual practices for awhile until a time comes (and hopefully it does) that I can say "Yeah, I think I have something useful to say or do that might be of help" - the day when all (or most) of what I have to offer is free of who-I-think-I-am.
Until then I may post an occasional poem, quote or something artistic. Nothing much really.
11: For whoso despiseth wisdom and nurture, he is miserable, and their hope is vain, their labours unfruitful, and their works unprofitable:All of our works and the fruits of our efforts are like our children. This blog requires effort and energy on my part.
12: Their wives are foolish, and their children wicked:
13: Their offspring is cursed. Wherefore blessed is the barren that is undefiled, which hath not known the sinful bed: she shall have fruit in the visitation of souls.
14: And blessed is the eunuch, which with his hands hath wrought no iniquity, nor imagined wicked things against God: for unto him shall be given the special gift of faith, and an inheritance in the temple of the Lord more acceptable to his mind.
15: For glorious is the fruit of good labours: and the root of wisdom shall never fall away.
16: As for the children of adulterers, they shall not come to their perfection, and the seed of an unrighteous bed shall be rooted out.
17: For though they live long, yet shall they be nothing regarded: and their last age shall be without honour.
My last post and response to my friend Joel, has really bothered me for awhile. I'm often in a rush to push my opinion out there because I think that I have so many important things to say. And sometimes I think I'm really really clever in the way I say things. I think, at least hope that everyone else knows better.
But even when I'm quiet (because I'm not a good conversationalist - usually a conversation killer), I sometimes think the poor other is so lost, so I'll just sit here and feel badly for them. Sometimes also my envious feelings keep me outwardly quiet too. But inside my little calculating engine is always and tirelessly cranking away from dawn to dusk throwing out it's agenda net onto the world. And it's so noisy too. Lately the wind has been blowing the net back and I'm getting tangled in it.
I wonder how often instead I just sit and listen to a friend, wife or one of my kids and just be with them. Everyone I love that I share my life with so deserves the best things from me. To do this I have to let go of all sorts of things I can't see clearly that seem to be me. In short, I have to let go of who-I-think-I-am.
Life has a way of filling up with all the trite things that seem so urgent at the time and pushing out the really important yet unassuming parts - you know - the raindrops on roses and puppy dog tails kind of stuff; the only things that are really real.
Who-I-think-I-am requires a lot of energy to maintain, energy that I suspect would flow beautifully and in the most divine ways if it weren't diverted thusly. That's why I started this spiritual quest in the first place. Because in a few precious and beautiful moments in life, a scent like an incense wafted or sometimes pushed through and past who-I-think-I-am and I turned my head for just a second. Gradually I became hooked.
Like the time I was caught off guard when my three year old son said "Look at my shit, my shit is new. Do you like it?". He couldn't pronounce his 'r' sound and was referring to his shirt. I thought it was precious to tears.
There was the time my first daughter was born and the doctor put this wet slick babyish thing in my arms saying "Here's your daughter", and I was overwhelmed beyond words to the complete helplessness of that moment.
This was just raw life, the most ordinary thing really. Everyone experiences this kind of stuff.
Spiritual practices have the effect of accelerating these kind of moments. That is, the moments aren't really being accelerated so much as I'm waking up to more and more of them more often. The truth is there is no deficiency of these moments at any time - they're always there, at least that what the great teachers say. My experience seems to be confirming this so far.
And each of these moments have a wounding effect on who-I-think-I-am. And it's sometimes painful and sometimes unbearable. And yet there is a also sweetness in this wounding. Gradually I have the sense of falling in love. Each time who-I-think-I-am is wounded I become more helpless in love.
Who or what is the object of this love? I've learned to call her Sophia. I even named my last child in her honor because to me she is life itself, although hidden most the time.
I don't think who-I-think-I-am knows anything about her yet. He's pretty busy falling apart these days and trying to pick up the pieces. Pretty morbid actually. It's an internally messy affair that gets into everything I do including writing these words and posting.
My understanding is this process is called Agon or sometimes referred to as the dark nights.
There is a small handful of people who actually read this blog. Yeah I figured out how to track that - pretty cool actually. It is for you and me that I'm going to shut up for awhile till I get through this. It could be several years. Who knows.
I don't want to mislead anyone who is looking for spiritual direction and there is a lot of us really. I have a tough enough time sorting through other peoples spiritual trash and taking all the wrong things to heart. I know I shouldn't be contributing to anyone else's confusion.
I don't think I can write this blog till I have more clarity myself. I need to refocus on my own spiritual practices for awhile until a time comes (and hopefully it does) that I can say "Yeah, I think I have something useful to say or do that might be of help" - the day when all (or most) of what I have to offer is free of who-I-think-I-am.
Until then I may post an occasional poem, quote or something artistic. Nothing much really.
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