The Cleverest Conspiracy Of All

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We live in an age of conspiracies and rumours of conspiracies.  Even those who mock and deny their existence feel the need to talk about them in a disparaging manner.  Governments, corporations and intelligence services all thrive on their production, implementation and cover-up.  Educated populations, now mostly freed from the threats of eternal damnation, loosened with ever increasing leisure, and armoured as never before with access to information, demand ever more sophisticated cover-ups and plausible denials delivered with assurance and aplomb.  Children with considerably more than spare change, we now require sophistry on the level of myth, complete with the the panoply of dramatis personae we have come to expect down through the storytelling ages.

Some ancient battle between darkness and light, truth and deception, seems to be continuously reenacted on the world stage.  It is a drama of operatic dimensions that could easily grow a religion or two about it.  Who will save us from the lying demagogues of democracy, the chorus asks.  Who shall deliver us from the seductive pit of propaganda?  The answer is perhaps obvious: us.  Us and only us.  We the people, who are so much more than concerned citizens, but who have forgotten their divine origins and are dwarfed by those who would manipulate our ignorance into endless dependence.  We need not wait for all the Pinocchios to grow long noses.

All the political shenanigans, all the crafted assassinations, all the bombings with their stage managed radicals, all the wars over natural resources spin doctored into evil dragon slaying, all the drugs so carefully designed, all the spiritual wickedness in high places, it’s merely the play of Maya, illusions prancing their hour upon the stage.  It need not detain us, although it can and does, our fascination with baubles and blood being what it is.  But for those of us on our way to graduation, a not insignificant number I might add, the cleverest conspiracy of all is that of the Higher Self.

The Higher Self conspires, unfortunately with our full cooperation, to denude us of all cosmic consciousness, so that our delivery onto the physical plane through the medium of our mother’s womb is accomplished with such a narrowing of the psyche that the phrase blank slate is the most accurate for our tiny embodiment of life.  So although we are emanations from a virtually omniscient Monad (group soul, Higher Self), by the time we descend through the planes to arrive here almost emptied of our previous divinity, and proceed, through many trials and tribulations, to recover our heritage shorn of the illusions of ego and society, we are essentially starting out once again from the basement of consciousness to explore not only the house above but the many mansions which it magically contains.

And we essay these explorations as dim witted but boisterous children, eager for adventure but easily cowed by frights and cuts.  As personalities we grow with our family and society imposed definitions, all of which are useful within the parameters laid out before us, becoming independent and educated adults.  But as spirits in the material world these definitions become ties which keep us in bondage, too timid to explore the unknown and unseen.  And when, out of frustration or giddiness, we do reach out a seeking beam, they remind us to doubt and distrust, to return to the basement where being rendered stupid with safety is the community standard.

In our ignorance as state sanctioned citizens with rights and responsibilities we often remain, assured that we are contributing in an accountable and civilized manner.  But as citizens thus defined we remain ignorant of our greater selves, our original share of divinity, and we quietly assume our tiny spots in history, the subject of forces beyond our control, when in fact we have picked a life path of challenges suited to our needs, and only appear to be buffeted by the fates of disease, lousy weather and political repression.  Whether we have chosen wisely or been rushed by the prospect of thrills is another matter, but the metaphysical fact is that we have picked and are partaking.

But our ego based illusions about our limited and isolated selves conspire to keep us in our place, while attributes such as gravity and debt assure us we have made the smart choice.  Inside our separated selves, our much valued individuality, we look to sources of power outside us.  Whether natural, as in earthquakes or floods, or man made, such as banking or government, we feel dominated, threatened, conspired against, that there is a hidden order which executes plans in the shadows, regardless of our requirements or well being.  There are hidden orders conspiring contemptuously in the shadows, but they operate at the level of ego and ego gratification, and as such, live in even more illusion than yourself, the seeker and would-be disciple of the mysteries.

The cleverest and most cunning conspiracy of them all is the one you delude yourself with, that we all delude ourselves with: that no matter what your station in life, your race or gender, your degree of freedom or repression, you are in essence an unbounded being of light, a conscious contributing emblem of divinity, who is only pretending to be daft and lost and limited.

Embracing Bliss (Again)

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In meditation this morning, a regular mindfulness exercise, watching the breath and observing the thoughts and emotions accompanying the inflow and outflow, I found myself moving towards that home beyond heaven, the radiant void, the great unmanifest from which we, and everything else, springs.  Though it is not the purpose of mindfulness meditation to go anywhere and be anything other than a breathing being dispassionately observing, I felt resisting the impulse would be as counterproductive as embracing it,  so I went with the flow as a leaf on the breeze.

I arrive in that “there” which of course, is “not-there” and feel as if I had never left and that the very idea of “I” (as so used here) is laughable.  Later, I am reminded of the phrase “being-consciousness-bliss” and try to recall which tradition it comes from.  But while “there” I am conscious of a bliss that is serene rather than effervescent, an understanding of pure being that is uninterrupted by the various activities of incarnation: the births, the deaths, the sufferings, the joys, the ambitions, the fulfillment, the frustrations, the disappointments.  I feel omniscient and omnipresent and yet tucked quite comfortably in a tiny corner.  I know that the multiverse of created worlds and beings continues to thrive in its constant change, but I do not wish to join the energetic dance of activity.  I am humming along quite nicely on my own thank you!  A more cosmic version of the afternoon nap, one might smile.

And yet I know I am inextricably intertwined with with every other focus of consciousness, either resident or visiting this “there” that is “not-there”.  I know I am complete, that no further achievement in the adventures of incarnation will make me any better, that no practice will make me any more selfless, as there is no self to improve; that no service to others will make me any more worthy, for I am not in any way worthless to begin with, and there are, ultimately, no real others to serve.  The preceeding definitions are all inventions of religions, elaborate rules which enslave the timid and ignorant and justify the existence of those who craft them.

As the hungry have to forage and hunt to survive, so the sinner has to surrender strive to become perfected.  These may be the rules of the plane we inhabit, but they are useless in the light we come from.  “There”, there are no needs or efforts required.  We are beings radiating our beingness.  Though our beingness blooms more with added life experiences it is still, in essence, our being.  A rose is a rose is a rose: blooming is what it does.

Planets, civilizations, prophets and deities: all fall away as unnecessary “there”, for we have no need of their guidance or restrictions.  They are forms we enter, from time to time, to exercise the vanity of ambition and aspiration.  We may fail, we may succeed, we may flounder.  Yet none of that matters ultimately.  All of it is only information resulting from an adventure, information that can be usefully applied in further adventures.

The hunter blending with his prey in the bloody death struggle, the mother dying in the act of giving birth, the peasant merging with soil and seed to facilitate harvest, the noble exercising authority to restrain and reward:  eventually all become stars in the infinite firmament.  As Aiwass said in 1904, through Mr. Crowley, “Every man and woman is a star”.  Endless evolution through the worlds of form imply that outcome. Rock, river, plant, tree; fish, fowl, animal wild and domesticated, human. fairy and angel:  all are stops along the way, all are vehicles for spirit projected.  And where once doubt might reign regarding the numbers, modern astronomy seems to indicate that equation is not so far off the mark.  Billions of stars are out there, all madly racing away from us, apparently.

When I returned from meditation, I yawned and stretched.  My joints were stiff and I was beginning to feel hungry.  Our world, one of many, had resumed its customary role.  I grinned in my gratitude, ready to desire, consume and be of service, for I know that the paradoxes of this apparent journey can, ultimately, only be surrendered to and embraced.  Fighting them on the grounds of injured rationality gets you nowhere.  As Woody Allen once wrote, “Eternal nothingness is just fine as long as you are dressed for it”.

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