At birth, we wake up to find ourselves incarnate - we discover we are in a new body, surrounded by a new world of strange sensations. All of childhood, we are pushing away the cobwebs of sleep, trying to be fully present and understand this strange place which for a few decades will be our home. Flashes of what came before this life quickly fade, and we are swept away in the drama of being human.
But occassionally, our previous life laughs at us from behind a shadow, or sparkles at us in a glint of sunlight. We ponder who we are apart from the perspective of a body walking on a planet. We get glimpses of ourselves, and others, from some more universal perspective, that we can occassionally reach out of the whirlpool of feelings, desires, pleasures, and sufferings of this life.
Sometimes we become vaguely aware of the dream - the illusions we live in, that we are the center of the world, or the victim, or the lost child, or the one who can solve everyone’s problems. Sometimes we start to notice the props off the side of the stage, or get a glimpse of the audience behind the footlights. Sometimes we have the sudden feeling that everything is set up, and everyone is following some role. Sometimes we notice that a director is prompting our next lines, rather than us choosing what to say and do.
And that is the moment we can ask, if our life is a drama, who is it who got the role? What motivates the actor to take on this life? What is the actor’s true nature outside of this 80-year drama? Who was he before, and who will he be after? And who is he now, in between the moments when he says his lines with such passion that we think it is real?
How many times have these same lines been said in show after show? How many times have the same crucial emotions run their course through endless shows? This cannot be who we are. Can we wake up before the play ends? Can we wake up to the fact that our lines were written by someone else, and we have yet to speak what is true for us?
Somewhere, deep within, is the memory of what came before all this began. Somewhere, there is a place where we will laugh gaily at how we could have forgotten so completely for so long. Somewhere, our true home awaits.
Comment posted by
at 12/4/2006 9:49:44 PM
JUST A DAY AGO I FIND MYSELF POSTING TO A FRIEND HOW TO EXPERIENCE DIRECT REALITY. AND AS YOU HAVE ALLUDED TO YOUR DRAMA ANALOGY, I HAVE TO SAY THAT TRUTH LIES IN THE KNOWING THAT WE CAN SEE OURSELVES PARTICIPATING IN THIS PLAY IN A WAY THAT MIGHT SEEM FIT. WE WILL PLAY DREAM THE OUTCOME. AND IN THE END IF THIS OUTCOME DOES NOT FIT, WE JUST WALK AWAY DISAPPOINTED BUT HOPEFULLY STILL WITH OURSELVES INTACT. AND WE PROCEED TO THE NEXT PLAY UNTIL WE CAN FIND THAT WHICH TRULY FEELS LIKE WE HAVE COME TO A PLACE WHERE WE CAN FEEL WARM AND COZZY. LIKE BEING IN THE MOTHER’S WOMB. BEFORE THE DRAMA BEGAN. I WONDER IF THIS IS WHAT LIFE IS ALL ABOUT.
Monday, December 4, 2006
Saturday, December 2, 2006
Changes
Well, a new look for my blog, and a new software package behind it. Also, a new feeling of growth and change springing up from within, and a new desire to share it with others.
I ponder my fate as someone with deep mood shifts - these past few months have been hard ones for me. I think I experience life more acutely than some - both the ups and the downs. And if I believe that life is ultimately more about joy than pain, then there is a net gain from being a moody person (although, don’t ask me to verify that when I am down!)
Pathwork says our choice is not whether to feel pain or pleasure - our choice is whether or not to feel. We can either live life numb, or we can scream from both the agony and the ecstasy. What a choice! But it seems I really don’t have much of a choice, as I seem to have been born this way.
So, I am alive, some healing and new lessons have come my way, and I look forward to sharing more with all of you in the upcoming weeks.
Comment posted by
at 12/4/2006 1:09:22 AM
Also I like the changes and improvements to your blog, Gene. Now I can reply without being called “Anonymous”. Andy
Comment posted by
at 12/4/2006 1:06:11 AM
It’s good to hear what you both have to say, Gene and Heidi. I look forward to our next get-together at Gene’s, whenever that may be. Andy
Comment posted by
at 12/3/2006 5:39:18 AM
Gene,
What you are saying sounds so familiar to me. I sometimes read what I wrote a few days or months or even a year ago, and it is like I was a different person with different feelings - my mood shifts and ultimately my perspective had shifted. I’m glad I have my own words to validate my own patters. Because I forget how good something felt when I’m down and I forget how badly I felt before when I am feeling really happy.
And at other times, when I feel fresh and excited about a new inner break-through, I go back to see the same pattern in old writings. I’d written all these “new” discoveries in myself before. I see the same struggling passion voiced long ago when I think it is all brand new today.
I feel, today, that I have made real progress. I feel like I am a different person from it - I truly believe in it, deeply. Yet, I read the same passages I wrote a few years ago - the same feeling; like new discoveries and new changes in my patterns made me new — I am puzzled and sometimes discouraged by this counter-discovery in myself.
Is it illusion that I find myself a new person today? Am I fooling myself? Had I forgotten those lessons I learned so long ago and am I re-learning them all over again today?
Or is there yet another new (if only subtle) shift within me that is truly new again?
I don’t have answers to what is really going on inside of myself.
But I’ve been aware that I have a strange pattern seeking and finding wonderful insights. I think, re-reading my own writings and learning how my patterns work is enlightening in itself - perhaps that is part of the change, part of the new person I become. Just knowing that I probably have been here before at a different time and space in my life.
Maybe that’s what you are saying here, too, when you talk about pondering your fate.
Maybe some of us build a life of unique patterns. Maybe knowing ourselves is to know our own patterns without fixing them, just knowing them and living them for the way we are designed to be. (And that “knowing” in itself, is a huge shift in and of itself, maybe?)
I was only going to make a short comment, but your blog got me thinking, so I’ll go ahead and post this part, if it’s ok with you?
Wednesday, October 4, 2006
Murmur
"Voices leaking from a sad cafe
Smiling faces try to understand
I saw a shadow touch a shadow's hand
On Bleaker Street"
Smiling faces try to understand
I saw a shadow touch a shadow's hand
On Bleaker Street"
We murmur with the hopes that someone
yes, someone
will hear the sounds
and somehow see into the chasm of the immense soul
seeking a touch
just a single touch
to pierce our dream of dualism
yes, someone
will hear the sounds
and somehow see into the chasm of the immense soul
seeking a touch
just a single touch
to pierce our dream of dualism
Each of us carries the burden
of the unspoken secret
the unseen story
the untouched pain
of the unspoken secret
the unseen story
the untouched pain
Each of us fearfully yearning
for the piercing of the membrane
that protects others from the shock
of who we are
for the piercing of the membrane
that protects others from the shock
of who we are
How precious is that moment
when two souls touch
When true understanding yields words superfluous
And, for a glorious instant,
we are not alone
when two souls touch
When true understanding yields words superfluous
And, for a glorious instant,
we are not alone
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Truly Letting Go
At some stages of our lives, we can only go so far into the darkness, because we do not have the resources to deal with everything we find there. We delve in, and deal with as much as we can, and come back out, or heal, or take a break, and integrate what we've learned. At some point we go back in again, a bit deeper, because ultimately each journey, while it hurts, also teaches us the truth about ourself, and I believe down deep most of us want the truth more than anything, and we are willing to suffer great pains (in sufficiently small doses) in order to find it.
Confronting our darkness usually leads to the necessity of letting go of something we cling to - insistences, dreams, fears, hopes, demands, wounds. The letting go is not easy, and we often fool ourselves by slapping on a new coat of paint.
When we only partially let go, whether it be a relationship, a dream, or a plan, there is a thread left, and the dying is not complete. When the resurrection comes, we will follow that thread back to our old ways - the same patterns, the same boxes, the same insistences we had before. When we can truly let go completely, there is the cold silent darkness of death. There is no road back, no chink of light, no anticipation. We let go, and fall into the abyss, and we are no more.
Only at that point can there be true creation. Only then can we rise from the dead a new creature, bathed in white, free to be truly here now. It is possible, after truly letting go of something, we may still return to the same job, the same relationship, the same house. But this time, it will be by free choice, and by intent, and not out of serving some age-old fear that lurks within. When you have faced death fully, there is no longer a place for fear, and you can live instead by love.
Death can be the ultimate terror, because nothing is promised you on the other side. To truly let go requires total faith that life is ultimately good.
Comment posted by Rich May
at 9/17/2006 10:29:00 AM
I really enjoyed your thoughts, Gene. This vividly shows how we deal with changing ourselves.
There are times when I know something has to change, really change. I often find myself using the same old methods, with perhaps a little more determination than the last time, hoping other people have softened up and will do things my way. I sometimes think leaving people alone for a while, then coming back, I will find they have changed. Perhaps time will have changed them.
It is then I remind myself that doing the same old things, the same old way, will yield the same old results. I know I must be the one to change, not others. Others are not trying to change. They don’t even see a reason to change.
On the other hand, I really don’t want to let go of my dreams. I only want to see them clearer. If they seem contradictory and impossible when I look at them through enlightened eyes, I want to delve deeper into what they truly mean to me. What is it I really want? These hopes are stories covering a deeper need. I want to see what is real and true.
It is very hard to let go. Perhaps dying is too much to ask. The string to the familiar always remains. Even when winter comes and everything seems to die, it all comes back from apparently nowhere in the spring. Maybe just planting something new and doing everything you can to make it grow will be enough.
Comment posted by Anonymous
at 9/17/2006 9:47:00 AM
Just think we could actually die many deaths. Each day we have stuff to let go off. Each day we can clean up and start fresh. We can walk gently on this earth, conscious of how all that is will be no more. We can play like a child with the wisdom from our experience.
It is strange how we keep ourselves from doing things for fear that we may die, and we dont even know what this death is other than not existing anymore and not being able to do the things we want.
Confronting our darkness usually leads to the necessity of letting go of something we cling to - insistences, dreams, fears, hopes, demands, wounds. The letting go is not easy, and we often fool ourselves by slapping on a new coat of paint.
When we only partially let go, whether it be a relationship, a dream, or a plan, there is a thread left, and the dying is not complete. When the resurrection comes, we will follow that thread back to our old ways - the same patterns, the same boxes, the same insistences we had before. When we can truly let go completely, there is the cold silent darkness of death. There is no road back, no chink of light, no anticipation. We let go, and fall into the abyss, and we are no more.
Only at that point can there be true creation. Only then can we rise from the dead a new creature, bathed in white, free to be truly here now. It is possible, after truly letting go of something, we may still return to the same job, the same relationship, the same house. But this time, it will be by free choice, and by intent, and not out of serving some age-old fear that lurks within. When you have faced death fully, there is no longer a place for fear, and you can live instead by love.
Death can be the ultimate terror, because nothing is promised you on the other side. To truly let go requires total faith that life is ultimately good.
Comment posted by Rich May
at 9/17/2006 10:29:00 AM
I really enjoyed your thoughts, Gene. This vividly shows how we deal with changing ourselves.
There are times when I know something has to change, really change. I often find myself using the same old methods, with perhaps a little more determination than the last time, hoping other people have softened up and will do things my way. I sometimes think leaving people alone for a while, then coming back, I will find they have changed. Perhaps time will have changed them.
It is then I remind myself that doing the same old things, the same old way, will yield the same old results. I know I must be the one to change, not others. Others are not trying to change. They don’t even see a reason to change.
On the other hand, I really don’t want to let go of my dreams. I only want to see them clearer. If they seem contradictory and impossible when I look at them through enlightened eyes, I want to delve deeper into what they truly mean to me. What is it I really want? These hopes are stories covering a deeper need. I want to see what is real and true.
It is very hard to let go. Perhaps dying is too much to ask. The string to the familiar always remains. Even when winter comes and everything seems to die, it all comes back from apparently nowhere in the spring. Maybe just planting something new and doing everything you can to make it grow will be enough.
Comment posted by Anonymous
at 9/17/2006 9:47:00 AM
Just think we could actually die many deaths. Each day we have stuff to let go off. Each day we can clean up and start fresh. We can walk gently on this earth, conscious of how all that is will be no more. We can play like a child with the wisdom from our experience.
It is strange how we keep ourselves from doing things for fear that we may die, and we dont even know what this death is other than not existing anymore and not being able to do the things we want.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
No Calamity
If we fully grasped
the preciousness of life
the preciousness of life
the intensity of living would be as great as
the intensity of dying
the intensity of dying
Lying in the grass would be as important
as curing cancer
as curing cancer
Peace would be
as passionate as war
as passionate as war
And we would spend as much energy on giving
as we do on security
as we do on security
If we lived life fully
death would be no calamity
death would be no calamity
Comment posted by Beth
at 8/27/2006 6:36:00 PM
Hi Gene, I just read No Calamity. it is beautiful.
Comment posted by Heidi
at 8/27/2006 11:11:00 AM
Gene,
You've said this so beautifully - our passion, intensity, joy and love of life for the simple sake of life is our most precious possession and our richest gift to each person we connect with.
Thank you for your clear words.
Heidi
Little Bobbing Heads
This morning, the clouds outside my window are completely still, like a painting. They are so still that I can see the progress of the slowly rising sun behind them, periodically peeping out through a break before gliding on behind the next cloud.
Out there, in God's world, there is no anger, no hate, no right or wrong. There are no should's or shouldn'ts, justice or injustice - there are only clouds, sun, breeze, sounds, creatures. In my head, a totally different world rages - what people should and shouldn't do, what is fair and unfair, how some things are better than others, or worse than others. Throughout this planet are billions of little heads bobbing around with worlds similar to mine, believing in rights and wrongs, just and unjust wars, all convinced that their little world is reality.
Yet between all these little bobbing heads is this vast space, filled with air, trees, creatures, events, sounds, sights - and not any hint of right or wrong, beauty or ugliness. Words like "better" make no sense in this world - is a tree better than a bird without someone to compare them? Is a flower beautiful without an admirer? Only when the eyes in these little heads transmit the signals of what they see to the gray matter not far behind, those signals are reinterpreted to justify the little world inside.
It is odd that we, the most conscious creature on the planet, should be so unconscious of the difference between what we see and what we believe we see.
Comment posted by Tom
at 8/15/2006 2:14:00 PM
I enjoyed your latest blog post. You are becoming a true advaitan! (non-dualist) (smile)
Comment posted by Anonymous
at 8/15/2006 9:20:00 AM
"Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder" some say, but I think it's also in what is beheld, and we are spirit and flesh, beholding.--Andy
Out there, in God's world, there is no anger, no hate, no right or wrong. There are no should's or shouldn'ts, justice or injustice - there are only clouds, sun, breeze, sounds, creatures. In my head, a totally different world rages - what people should and shouldn't do, what is fair and unfair, how some things are better than others, or worse than others. Throughout this planet are billions of little heads bobbing around with worlds similar to mine, believing in rights and wrongs, just and unjust wars, all convinced that their little world is reality.
Yet between all these little bobbing heads is this vast space, filled with air, trees, creatures, events, sounds, sights - and not any hint of right or wrong, beauty or ugliness. Words like "better" make no sense in this world - is a tree better than a bird without someone to compare them? Is a flower beautiful without an admirer? Only when the eyes in these little heads transmit the signals of what they see to the gray matter not far behind, those signals are reinterpreted to justify the little world inside.
It is odd that we, the most conscious creature on the planet, should be so unconscious of the difference between what we see and what we believe we see.
Comment posted by Tom
at 8/15/2006 2:14:00 PM
I enjoyed your latest blog post. You are becoming a true advaitan! (non-dualist) (smile)
Comment posted by Anonymous
at 8/15/2006 9:20:00 AM
"Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder" some say, but I think it's also in what is beheld, and we are spirit and flesh, beholding.--Andy
Thursday, August 10, 2006
The Mystery of Spirit
There are things in the world that fill us with awe. Something as simple as a blue sky in the morning can bring an untamed joy to our sleep heads. A wildflower may arrest our stroll and attention with its beauty and delicacy.
Yet there is no beauty inherent in any of these things. The symmetry, delicacy, color, and scent of the flower are not good or bad - they are just what they are. The experience of beauty resides solely inside of the observer.
Here is the mystery - how does a conscious, feeling, experiencing being arise out of a mechanical and unconscious universe? How can a ghost live within a machine, so alien to its nature? While our bodies obviously belong to the earth, and we share many similarities with the animals and other life forms, our spirits - our consciousness, our feelings, our interpretation of what we experience - seem alien to this world. We look around, and we find ourselves alone among in our experience of wonder and despair.
Yet, like the voice of a gospel singer rising freely above the supporting steady rhythm of the choir, there is a glory in our wild spirituality that sores so high above the rational and physical world that created us. It is only human beings who can understand how wonderful the world is, and who likewise will understand the depths of the tragedy should it not survive.
The miracle is not the beauty of this world - the miracle is that there are human beings that stare in awe and wonder, and are filled with feelings of incredible joy when they behold it. It is only within our experience of the universe that the miraculous lives.
Comment posted by Anonymous
at 8/10/2006 8:14:00 PM
What a fascinating subject, the mystery of spirit, how our life and consciousness on this fragile planet came to be, and what we are and what we are part of, and where we might go from here. Faith in creation by God conflicts with the scientific view of chemical events and evolution of life on a hospitable planet in an immense universe coming from a big bang, and out of these ways of thinking I wonder if our seemingly cold and material universe might have some kind of consciousness--spirit--, that some may call God, that is reflected in physical laws such as gravity, and in nature and life and in our human consciousness, even though this universal consciousness does not come from a physical brain as our human consciousness does. Humanity must realize its potential and destiny, not only to survive, progress and improve itself, but to explore the universe and search for other intelligent life. On this subject, some might enjoy reading "Starmaker" by Olaf Stapledon, an imaginative story of a man whose mind explores the universe in search of other intelligent life and the Starmaker, which is God.--Andy
Yet there is no beauty inherent in any of these things. The symmetry, delicacy, color, and scent of the flower are not good or bad - they are just what they are. The experience of beauty resides solely inside of the observer.
Here is the mystery - how does a conscious, feeling, experiencing being arise out of a mechanical and unconscious universe? How can a ghost live within a machine, so alien to its nature? While our bodies obviously belong to the earth, and we share many similarities with the animals and other life forms, our spirits - our consciousness, our feelings, our interpretation of what we experience - seem alien to this world. We look around, and we find ourselves alone among in our experience of wonder and despair.
Yet, like the voice of a gospel singer rising freely above the supporting steady rhythm of the choir, there is a glory in our wild spirituality that sores so high above the rational and physical world that created us. It is only human beings who can understand how wonderful the world is, and who likewise will understand the depths of the tragedy should it not survive.
The miracle is not the beauty of this world - the miracle is that there are human beings that stare in awe and wonder, and are filled with feelings of incredible joy when they behold it. It is only within our experience of the universe that the miraculous lives.
Comment posted by Anonymous
at 8/10/2006 8:14:00 PM
What a fascinating subject, the mystery of spirit, how our life and consciousness on this fragile planet came to be, and what we are and what we are part of, and where we might go from here. Faith in creation by God conflicts with the scientific view of chemical events and evolution of life on a hospitable planet in an immense universe coming from a big bang, and out of these ways of thinking I wonder if our seemingly cold and material universe might have some kind of consciousness--spirit--, that some may call God, that is reflected in physical laws such as gravity, and in nature and life and in our human consciousness, even though this universal consciousness does not come from a physical brain as our human consciousness does. Humanity must realize its potential and destiny, not only to survive, progress and improve itself, but to explore the universe and search for other intelligent life. On this subject, some might enjoy reading "Starmaker" by Olaf Stapledon, an imaginative story of a man whose mind explores the universe in search of other intelligent life and the Starmaker, which is God.--Andy
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