When I tell people details of my memory recovery, there tends to be mouth opening, aghast, or a glaze over that stops further communication. I have received confirmation that has been helpful, because otherwise it could be crazy making. At the same time, I’ve been shown that I must work to release the need for confirmation.
Rumi says the soul forming is like a porcupine that is made strong with stick beating. There are those whose souls need to become very strong, so they receive a lot of stick beating. This soul seems to be one of those. Likely many attracted to these Work ideas feel the same.
I am grateful for having been given extraordinary preparation to enable processing of what has unfolded in my consciousness. I am also grateful for the difficult lesson of realizing the impersonal nature of the Work. That there are literally worlds of difference between the life of the Being and the mind/body complex has been made clear in a way that impresses deeply. Salt seems to be poured onto wounds, making the perfect conditions for these impressions to burn in deep. There is little regard for the pain of a lifetime except insofar as it is refined into the gold of transcendence.
Just as it is said, the first hit is free. Initially on the Work journey, for a long time actually, we are given much honey to keep engagement. Time and experience change the honeymoon into something else, again and again. We are boiled many times over until there is left only enough nothingness to serve. Rumi gives a perfect metaphor – if you light a piece of cotton on fire and put it right up to the sun, the fire of the cotton disappears into the sun. That fire you don’t see is exactly what is left of a dervish.
I was warned many times it will get harder as you go along, and, indeed. One can’t possibly fathom in what way. While being conclusive is not terribly useful, I accept my need to arrive at some place of definition in the maelstrom. There is questioning. Like, sometimes taking the same medicine past its time makes you sick – sometimes in healing one feels sick, which time is this, if any? Sometimes walking away is the way home. Sometimes walking away takes you further away. Both movements are sometimes necessary. I am then guided to see that perhaps the extreme discomfort that prompts my questioning is in itself evidence that all is as it should be. I am brought to longing for the field beyond right or wrong.
Rumi has a poem that talks about being sick of scripture. In it he seems to be addressing his community who is blind to the magnificence of Shams present before them. The light sought in scripture is right there, breathing in this human form, and they cannot recognize this.
There is sickness of scripture present in me, and I haven’t the same circumstances as Rumi, but I wonder if there is some recognition factor involved in this sickness. Here is a place of recognition I will start from – No one can tell me the truth – it is all hearsay or opinion unless I am breathing it. Let this be my prayer; that I stop seeking from without what can only be given from within. I crave my own being. Let me be leonine in the pursuit of what’s real. No more intermediaries. Either I take in the fragrance from my own garden, or not at all.
We’ll see what sprouts through time’s fertile ground for us to harvest for the next Journey to the Heart gathering, Thursday, June 6 at 6pm PST on GorebaggTV.