By
candle-light before dawn I draw the three of rainbows, the guidance of
those messengers of spirit that we call angels. The very principles
which allow me to divine are such as belie the rational order of
existence. Is it not a wonder? We intrepid minstrels…employing chaos to
sing the praises of a symmetry that exists only within the confined
spaces of our moral certitudes. In fact, there is no rational order save
that which we grasp to like drowning sailors in sky-oceans of frozen
wind. Experimental psychology, though yet in its infancy, reveals to us
that we are deluded when we insist upon the rationality of our
behavior. Not only is our behavior anything but rational, but we are
scarcely aware of it in the first place. Moreover, we do not think with
anything resembling either intent or logic. In fact, over ninety percent
of our thinking takes place beneath the level of conscious awareness.
What this means, of course, is that not only do we have no idea what we
are doing, or why we are doing it, but we do not know how we go about it
in the first place. And still we wonder why we sometimes feel ever so
slightly mad?
If
you were extremely adept at visualization you could try seeing your
life between the palms of your hands, floating gently there like an
intricate, radiant sphere of interconnected lines--a multidimensional
cats cradle, a mandala of light. And you would see, perhaps, where
certain strings were broken; areas left unfinished; tangled skeins;
accidental knotwork, but also discordant connections where colors clash
and bleed. Naturally, you would see the undeniable harmony and
resilience, the delicate precision and the fragility of this living,
ever-changing, pulsing sphere of light and sound, and you could work it
then, a strand here, a linkage there…and your life would heal because
you would not know what you were doing, guided solely by the biological
wisdom of your hands and the dance of your fingers. The only thing you
would have to go on--your sense of that which is beautiful and your
appreciation and respect for what is as ephemeral as a bubble of air on
the surface of a pond, blown by a passing fish.
Our
sorrow then, the shrieking of frozen thoughts--mind cramps. Our mothers
knew. They distracted us from should and must and no and yes and ought
and shalt when life disturbed our way of things. Now angels take their
place, from time to time, and it is in that discipline called freedom of
expression that they come to meet us--not when our minds are still, but
when through motion they simply cease to be all that which our
expectations molded of them, neither objective nor subjective but
creative of both.
Parenthetically,
although it is chaos which allows structure to emerge in the first
place, it does not follow that we therefore become even more mindless
than we already are. We are sailing on a ship called ocean, and our
task it is to steer, not to hold the boat together. If we can but
discipline ourselves to receiving guidance we see that things have a way
of resolving themselves in unexpected ways. That we do not believe
this is beside the point. Mindfulness has less to do with knowing what
you are doing or how or why you are doing it than with a certain loving
and highly focused regard which allows change to follow in accordance
with the laws of its own being. If we find ourselves appalled at
watching on the sidelines as we do what we seemingly do not want to do,
the fault, more often than not, lies with our expectations and with our
faulty interpretations of what are no more than dimly perceived
observations.
Unfortunately,
we are trained to disregard discrepancies and inconsistencies within
ourselves, as though we resembled blocks of granite in a matrix of ice
and not the gooey, amorphous permeabilities that confront us when we
drop our vigilance, and to laud goal-directed behavior as though it were
a virtue above all others. It is no more of a virtue than anything
else. One is reminded of the old saying: "show me a man who always
stands on his own two feet and I will show you a man that can't ever
take off his pants!"
But
consider this, that consciousness is intention and that energy follows
it as surely and as consistently as the tail follows its owner. I would
be willing to bet that not a single one of the life-themes by which you
establish the meaning and purpose of your inexplicable existence emerged
with any help from what passes for your lamentably besieged cognition.
Quite to the contrary. Your life-path grew spontaneously from out of
the dark and fertile loam of your inner vitality as effortlessly and
with as much discipline as an acorn growing into an oak tree. If then
you desire to change the trajectory of your life, it is pointless to
focus on your beliefs. As soon capture a whale by its spume. Attention
changes form. It is that simple. It changes form not according to the
partial knowledge that you yourself presume to possess, but which in
actuality posses what you think of yourself as being, but rather from
that infinite and inexhaustible intelligence which effortlessly creates
and recreates itself anew in an infinite array of ever changing forms
and is, believe it or not, entirely capable of extricating you from any
mess that you could possibly create for yourself.
Blessings of Peace, my heart, my eternal other self,
Your little dragon
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