We will begin with a simple mystic tale I saw in a "dream".
It is entitled "work"
-----
Wednesday,
November 02, 2011
He came in the
evening as he often did. We'd talk of things great and small. Of things that
needed doing and things that needed healing.
Sometimes he would teach me
something new. But that day things were
different. The air seemed to sing with a difference. The meaning of something
or maybe everything was going to be revealed or changed.
He said without
preamble. "Let's do some work."
Now 'what is work?' you might ask, a responsive question might be: 'What is it that you do when you
give something meaning and then hang it in the starry firmament of your
consciousness?"
So he and I would
work.
Yet.
As I said, that night was different in a way I could not fathom. I
set my mind and body aside as was needed and the work began.
There are no words
for work.
There is no teaching it.
Never can be.
There are descriptions.
Work can be
described in too many glib words such as, " To Work is to evolve your consciousness
by a willful process. "
But glib words are not 'work', the words
only confuse the issue and never truly describe the process.
Descriptions are like watching a great dance
or seeing Starry Night but the
description is not the dance nor the actions of a mad master painter upon a
canvas.
There are techniques
to be learned to do work.
The foundations
learned:
Calm the mind and body.
Let them do what they do
then:
close the door to let them do it.
Abilities are
developed:
To see beyond.
To see
within.
To float in the sea of consciousness and listen to the breathing
of the self.
Then to hear another's
breathing.
Then to hear all of the
breaths of all of those who breathe.
And then all of those who ever have
or ever will breathe.
Life is breath, that breath is One.
To breath one breath is to breath all of
them.
Going and returning.
Returning and going.
One.
Ignorance is
unlearned and abated:
Prejudices revealed and then set aside as illusions.
When
you work, you work with the truth as it is, not as you have mistakenly
distorted it.
Then finally"
work.
True work:
Perfecting the
world.
Perfecting the self.
Lifting others.
Lifting self.
Creating things, new
then making them real in this world.
This is the reason you are here.
Where can one find
these things? Open any book to a random page but open it with a different
intention. For example , It might start
on page 42 but for me a key answer was on page 43 waking with a stone under its head.
My answer might
not be yours.
Yours might be that quote of Cicero in Sagan's book.
Or the falling of a leaf. Or an equation in a book buried in the stacks.
A
sunrise.
A sunset.
A picture.
A voice.
A song.
You might find one of these things when you turn a random corner but
open your mind to new possibilities.
So we worked that
evening. I opened my eyes to new things.
And I learned. Some time after,
I slept.
Then I woke alone.
Who is my father?
Where is my father?
Who am I?
Where am I?
Who should I be?
Where should I be?
Who is breathing?
Where is the breath
coming from?
Difficult questions
always seem to have simple answers.
Then
the realization-- Simple questions, difficult answers.
Breathe.
See.
Work.
++++ fini +++++
Comments? Discussion? Objections?
I'd love to hear it.
©2014 by j.h. crook.
all rights reserved
©2014 by j.h. crook.
all rights reserved
