Caravaggio: Another great piece of writing but there is a problem here, I think.
M: Thank you. I am generally insulted about my writing. There is indeed a problem but I think it's the fact that truth is ineffable. In Zen this is expressed as the finger pointing at the moon isn't the moon. Words are the language of pointers. Words are memories of ideas, thinking, but truth isn't an idea it's a state of being, a conscious state of awareness of everything uncommented upon. The mind that awakens into the silence of being, without comment or movement away from what is seem, is a reflection of the universe that can't be distinguished from it. It is a state of oneness with everything. This state of awareness can't be transferred or given away. But it is our original being, the state in which we came into the world. It is our separation from it that the sensitive experience as longing.
C: You have had a moment of blinding personal insight and I am glad that it came in time for you to find inner peace.
Thank you again. Blinding isn't the word I would use. I was in a deep and prolonged state of contemplation, trying to understand why I suffered, ticking off and disregarding idea after idea, when a big gust of wind shook the house. Instantly I switch from this deep state of introspection to the body experience of that sound. I woke up in the present and the juxtaposition of those two states of consciousness and the suddenness of the transition filled me with understanding. I had my answer because all my questions had disappeared. I felt only calm and went to sleep. My suffering had vanished.
What I had suffered from is unconscious assumptions. I grew up believing in God and the existence of God means that no suffering will go unrequited for those who are good. I set out then to prove there is a good. I was a fairly good thinker, back then, so good, in fact, that I failed. I read all I could and found only fools, folk who had tricked themselves into thinking there is a good. I punched holes in everything to the point where I had destroyed everything sacred I had ever been taught to believe. It is the cold benign indifference of the universe' and the utter meaningless of existence that cause my deep depression. I had lost everything and knew I would never be happy again.
Zen taught me that there are people in the East that are happy and see the same emptiness that I did. I could not understand this. I didn't know that I carried an unconscious bias that life has to have meaning to be happy. What I didn't realize was that all the love I hoped to find from the knowledge that the universe is good, doesn't work that way. That love already and has always existed. That love is the true self. One does not bask in the love of God. One tears open ones chest and all that love floods out. There is only love. That was my personal experience
C: But you are moving from the personal to the generally prescriptive.
M: Here is another personal experience which I think points to generalities:
"I was Rama, I was Krishna, I was this One, I was that One, and now I am Meher Baba. In this form of flesh and blood, I am that same Ancient One who is eternally worshipped and ignored, ever remembered and forgotten. I am that Ancient One whose past is worshipped and remembered, whose present is ignored and forgotten, and whose future (Advent) is anticipated with great fervour and longing.
I am the Ancient One. Not a leaf has the power to quiver without My wish. I am the One who knows everything about everyone.
I am God. I am in you all. I never come and I never go. I am present everywhere.
The glory of the suns is the seventh shadow of My real state of Reality. Even a glimpse of the glory is enough for one to lose all consciousness.
I am the Universal Thief; I steal hearts."
C: Are you saying that your insight will be valid for us all?
M: These are some world purportedly spoken by a Yaqui Indian shaman:
"There are a million paths in life and they all lead nowhere. Choose a path that has a heart."
C: You use language which implies that you have high regard for the psychodynamic tradition of Freud and Jung.
M: At times I do. Psychotherapy is another of those God not needed potential paths to truth, in my opinion.
The Sufis claim that a person of knowledge, for lack of a better expression, teaches according to the time, the place, in other words, the conditioning of his disciples. In the countries where Sufism is visible, it is usually Islamic in nature. Fingers come in different languages, only the moon in the moon.
C: Modern cognitive neuro-psychology is uncomfortable with those terms as they imply structures and functions that don't relate to the findings from FMRI brain imaging.
M: In my opinion, most psychologists and psychiatrists don't understand the 'truth' that I understand to be truth. They do not know what they feel. many go into that profession, I was told by one who knew the truth of which I speak, again my opinion, as having done so to become better at being sick.
I would imagine that the neuroscientists are potentially worse. You know about the God spot, a place in the brain that when stimulated by machines creates a sense of Presence, a feeling that one is not alone? For a neuroscientist it's all about data and chemical reactions in the brain. No personal wisdom or self understanding required, no personal experience of conscious states either. Some see the God spot on a graph while others live in it. One can live in the linear world of equations or the holistic world of magic or one can live in the state appropriate for the conditions.
I mentioned, I think, the power of the ego, the tremendous fear it lives in that past memories of pain will awaken. You may not be aware of how powerfully we have a need to deny and to ignore truth that is right in front of out face. That we hate ourselves is the last thing we ever what to know.
C: I realise your insights are valid for you but not all people who confront the "end of the rope moment"' have your biophilous creativity and capacity for self reflection.
Andreas Lubwitz had his crisis and solved it with a narcissistic inner rage leading to mass murder.
We are not all moving down the same road at the same pace.
John Keats dealt with his crisis by writing 'Ode to a Nightingale', when he started coughing up blood shortly before his death. He wanted to 'cease on this midnight with no pain' and gave us a timeless treasure.
Same existential crisis, different route out....
M: I stood on the backs of giants. I would like only to throw my little rope to those who suffer. I am a nobody and I see nothing special about me. The only gift that I can think of that might be unusual somewhat is that my Mother told me to be honest. No better way I can think of to fuck up your kid.
