More than anything, I am nothing. When I catch glimpses of this, it brings at least a small delight, regardless of the gnarly medium through which these glimpses are caught.
In last night’s dream I was called a witch by someone with whom I’ve known a changed relationship. The attitude conveyed had me crying in the dream, but it was noted that the tears did not reflect the pain in the heart. There was a great space of objectivity present. The pain felt in the heart was different, I don’t know, more universal, about the human condition, for lack of a better description.
The response to this dream, which awakened me, was surprisingly calm. Even just a year ago, I would not have been able to make the same claim. I have a dream life. A lot of good information and teaching has come through dreaming. The dream-scape is a sacred space observed for much of my life. There have been extraordinary lucid/astral events from the time of early childhood. This has forced me to pay attention and learn about different influences present in various kinds of dream experiences. Last night’s dream seemed to have origins that are not my own. I am inconclusive as to those origins, leaving an x factor of doubt in my interpretation, a window open, to let in truth where it may not be present.
I considered communicating with this person in my life, with a feeling of compassion. Fear would have disabled this quality of response in the past. In the course of examining different interpretations of the dream, some useful things came to light.
Sometimes when we name things we speak of ourselves more than anything else. One’s perspective reveals the place of residence, the practice one keeps. To attempt to manipulate the world around one in the way indicated by the idea of a gnarly witchcraft implies poverty of spirit. All of phenomena is here to be a slave to spirit, not the other way around. To want to manipulate in this way implies the eyes of spirit are covered, the hands of spirit bound.
To my experience, manipulation of environment especially when one has developed a bit of power of attention just turns back, producing an opposite effect. At this time, a yucky thought about another seems to bring about something in my physical universe to knock sense into me. I’m serious, I’ve actually gotten bruises. Things suddenly fly or fall and strike the body or it stumbles, hitting itself, directly following the mind flatulence of a poorly digested impression.I see where I am in fact hurting myself by having a hurtful thought about another.
It helps me want to hang out where things are nameless, gives passion to my efforts in the direction of the nothing I see myself becoming. Stilling the mind is an extraordinarily helpful skill. But to still the cup, as Hafiz indicates we must do in order for the Divine Host to pour, one must engage the heart. To engage the heart means looking at the pain blocking the light from the sun – whether one’s own or of the world, doesn’t matter – to see another person’s pain is to see my own at some level. Impartiality is needed, and what is seen is not for wimps.
The heart has an eye that gets entrained toward the sun as it sees past the pain. The more one sees of that sun, the more one falls into annihilating love. That is what it takes, essentially, falling in love with something as grand and unspecific as that central sun, the one and all. When one gets close enough, there is an inexorable longing to fling oneself into it, to annihilate. One in the business of becoming this nothing over and again needs to use phenomena differently. Responses must be strategic in their inclination toward this flinging forth freedom longed for. I write to this aim.
Questions arise, recent impressions pop up – most of all about conscious response and the refinement of intent as one is in the process of emptying oneself. We will make much ado about annihilation back to the nothing of endless crystal waters on the next Journey to the Heart show this Thursday, April 25 at 6 pm PST on GorebaggTV.