, , ,

Many of us experience what I might call a “temporary residence in enlightenment” where everything seems in balance, and those perpetually arguing polarities are becalmed into harmony, the doer and the done combined into one, the perceiver and perceived one landscape of interaction, the bliss of unity so obvious it’s almost laughable, but at some point our cruising altitude is lowered and we are buffeted once again by the chilly breezes of frustration, irritation and anger. Our personhood once again becomes an elaborate performance, to please the audiences and other actors, a calculated response to pressures and imperfections.

And as the disappointment sinks in we wonder how we might retain that former glory in the heavenly state that is surely the mirror of the harmony of that real heaven hovering elsewhere. And so we resort to techniques, rituals, attitudes and teachers, and within those systems and processes discover that unity consciousness, where the one dissolves in the One, while sometimes attainable through effort, is actually only to be inhabited by surrendering. Surrendering one’s ambitions, fears, superstitions and doubts, and then accepting exactly ‘what is’, both in oneself and the world.

And ‘what is’, of course, is always mired in imperfections, – clumsiness, rudeness and nastiness – but the willing submission to all that stupidity, and loving it for what it is, not what it might become, given the corrective measures do-gooders insist on, there lies the heaven on earth you’ve heard about in various hints and mysterious suggestions.

The world is perfect as it is, all the ambitions and angers locking together immaculately, all locks with their accompanying keys, all the situations we thought needed fixed, all that crap that requires correction, it exists in perfect harmony with all the players caught up in the matrix.

And when those players renounce their attachments and graduate from those losing propositions, other souls arrive, right on schedule from central casting, who need the experience to fill out their cv.  Every situation, however corrupted by ruthless disregard for the rights of others, all those victors/victims, oppressors/oppressed, are ideal templates for the next generation of incoming acolytes.

As the saying goes, ‘there’s a sucker born every minute’, but each one of those suckers finally moves up, stage by painful stage, to the supreme consciousness, leaving a niche for the next politician, CEO, celebrity, housewife, peasant, plumber, hitman or fraudster. And living, for however long your wounded ego can handle it, in that blissful consciousness of unity, can show you this. You the victim, you the lover, you the athlete, you the experiencer at one with your experience.