The Distant Country

‘The return of the prodigal son’ – by Elena Murariu, 2018 – Wikimedia

How ironic this life is, isn’t it? How incongruous to have imagined that this is the real deal: being a person locked in and bound to the limits of a body. How astonishing to have this certainty to be a self that feels separate and needs to be fulfilled. To think we have to fight our way through the world, and suffer with such consistency. To have been persuaded that seeking is our way of life, without which we are doomed to poverty and stagnation. Yet the illusion of our being in a world is so convincing that we had to buy its many effects and constraints, and be subjected to its perils. So we have gone far away, thinking that we could live remote from our true home and identity, that we could roam the world on our own, and snob our essence. So we have landed into what we are not. We have lived the adventures of a person, gone through challenges and despair, carried ourself through time and space, and lived attached to worries and hopes, to the aches of regrets and loneliness, and the brief consolation contained in the occasional relief from our wrestling with the physicality of the world. So we have paid the price of such a lonesome, faraway trip. As Augustine of Hippo once said: “Distant country signifies forgetfulness of God“. We have left our father behind, despised his presence, judged his love as unworthy. Unhappiness is intrinsic in having mistaken an illusion for the reality, just as it is natural to be in the shadow when we hide from the sun. But maybe there is a return from our erroneous view. Maybe the time has come to stop being tied to a false idea, and to return from our adventures into deceitfulness.

Now see that this faraway trip is but the following of a belief. It is our being led into an illusion, a fantasy — shared by all — that the life in and as this body-mind is all the reality there is, and that the way we live and believe is our truthful condition, to which we have to submit ourself. We have swallowed that suffering is the condition of life, and the way to alleviate it resides in either circumstances, good luck, or smart choices. But in fact, suffering is but the consequence of our departure from our true, forgotten nature. It is the natural outcome of our prodigality, of our obsessive desire to possess and be more than what we already are, of our seeking happiness inside the development of our adventures into ego-land. But as far as we may have erred into agony and chance, there is chiselled in our very nature, a return into the open arms of our simple, inescapable being. This quiet resting as our innermost being is the home from which we should never depart, no matter how enticing is the call for an adventure in the distant land of separation. There is a father or mother here, a being eternal, always waiting for the return of their prodigal son or daughter. And it is in the nature of this return to be a welcoming one, for the simple reason that you are yourself the embrace contained in being only being. So your return to the father was never a return from any kind of reality, but the noticing that we had in fact never left its loving embrace, and that all that was needed is our letting go, our bowing to the grace contained in simply being.

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Text by Alain Joly

Painting by Elena Murariu (born 1963)

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Website:
Elena Murariu (Your Portal to the Art of Icon)

Suggestion:
– Other ‘Reveries’ from the blog…

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A Treasure of Understanding

‘Dawn’ – Joseph Farquharson, 1903 – WikiArt

There is no such a thing as conceptual understanding in matters of spirituality. As soon as we form an idea, a concept, an image, a projection about ourself, we are still where we have always been: in our mind, in the known, in grounds we have already trodden a thousand times. These grounds are the grounds of our misunderstanding, where beliefs have already shaped and conditioned the idea we have about ourself. An idea that we rehearse and consolidate with every thought or act springing out of the field of our conceptual world. No understanding can ever come from this barren field. For one good, essential reason, which is that our understanding comes from only being. Being is the field of our understanding. Being is understanding itself. And the mind — with the ego which it gives rise to — is the only thing that is hindering our coming in contact with being in its purest form. That’s why concepts and ideas can never be understanding itself. They hide our clarity. In fact, they trample it.

So, should you ever want to come in contact with the pristine vibe contained in understanding, then a little digging is a necessary prerequisite. Don’t stay in your mind, take a new breath, be an explorer. You may use the tool of mind as you use a spear to dig a treasure. But please don’t take the spear for the treasure. This treasure is the treasure of being that stands unseen below the surface of your wrestling with concepts and ideas. Don’t let being be undermined by the description or explanation of the method. A beautiful image of truth will never be truth itself. It won’t hold the true taste of it. You won’t get its exquisite perfume, unless you see what stands under your mind and your ego. Understand your being by being only being. Throw the spear out. Finish the digging with your bare hands if required. Be yourself your treasure.

You come to an understanding when you stand under everything that is appearing or forming in your experience. Being is what stands under. It is the one thing that doesn’t change, that can never die or dis-appear, and out of which everything objective or knowable come into existence, and is under the scrutiny of your senses. But objective experience can never lead you to any understanding. Not out of its own will. You have to coerce yourself, make your own acquired, conceptual idea of reality recede and reveal its illusory, invented nature. You have to make what was, what will be, what should be, and what seems to be, into what is. That’s where understanding lives, in what is, in the here and now of your essential being. Understanding is implicit to being, and being explicit in understanding. Feel your being in its purest form, and see that you are yourself the understanding that you have craved to achieve through your mind.

So being stands under your apparent self which, in its light, is discovered to be non-existent, or rather only existent as being. That being is your true support, deserving all your praises. Actually, it is the support of everything, the great pervader — that’s why some have called it the creator. Not that it creates while being outside of its creation, but rather it is the substantial essence of everything — what makes a world possible and viable. So to understand yourself is to touch this essence through your being it, and to praise that part of yourself which you can never not be with, and which comes with a special flavour of well-being. That’s how you feel your true nature, through that subtle yet indestructible joy of simply being, which your never satisfied body-mind-self could never give you other than fleetingly. Understanding as being comprehends everything. It holds and embraces all life in the fullness of its presence. So to understand is to rest in your natural being, which requires no commenting or even understanding. You are, and this is that.

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Text by Alain Joly

Painting by Joseph Farquharson (1846-1935)

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Website:
Joseph Farquharson (Wikipedia)

Suggestion:
– Other ‘Reveries’ from the blog…

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The Incandescence of Being

‘Wharfedale’ – John Atkinson Grimshaw, 1872 – WikiArt

Spirituality is not a contest. It is not in achieving something, and knowing myself is not about aggrandising what I am. It is not in holding on to an idea, be it a most noble one. It is not in perfecting my being. ‘I am’ is self-sufficient and already fully realised. Any desire for perfection or achievement will keep you at the level of a self. You won’t have let go of yourself. You won’t have fully opened the door, will have kept a space which is but an escape or exit out of your primal being — the death that it implies. It is always tempting to not let what is be, to keep colouring our essence, to still want to hold a share, a participation, a glory, an advantage. Somewhat, our desire to be something prevents us to just notice and be that which we are already, without a single addition to it — not even a last little perfecting, not even a criticism or the rectifying of something, not the desire for more freedom or less ego, nothing to compare or compete with, nothing at all. Otherwise we remain just a part longing for the One, and therefore keeping it as an object to be attained, and rendering ourself separate or insufficient just as we are. There is no comparing what is. There is no arguing with the One. So just allow yourself to be, with nothing else behind it. Let go of all that you are, or should be, or will be, in an instant, with not even a second look. Enter where you have never ceased to be, and finally come to be what you are, just as you are. Daring that — to make no further step, to cease wanting anything, to give your last breath and descend into your utmost, pristine being. For there is no ascending being, but simply recognising that being — such as it is — is all there is to myself.

You see: all the spiritual practices, all the teachings, and the long hours of meditation, are only here in the waiting of something very simple to happen. They are here to help you realise that you have it already, that you have already arrived where you want to be, that you already bask in the peace and happiness you covet, and have been trying to secure in a thousand useless, pointless ways. So really, the spiritual endeavour is nothing at all. It is the simple retirement or returning into your essential am-ness, just as it is now, right in the middle of your agony. Why is it such a tedious task: to arrive at last where you are, to be what you are already being, and accept to receive what has already been given to you? The very presence or intimacy in which you are spending your hours and days is all the light you need, and contains all the understanding that you have been striving to possess year after year. And this treasure of life isn’t even wrapped or hidden. It was there all along with you and as you, open and thriving as the very being with which you are now living your present day confusion and suffering. You have been all the way showered by its thousand glorious alleluias, while imagining yourself as deaf and blind. So don’t think that this cannot be enough — what you are. It has all been nicely packed for you, right at this moment, just as you are, offered to your noticing. So don’t keep pushing, adding, expecting. We are far too zealous. Remember that anything you may see, hear, feel, think, is contained in one essential and pristine matrix of being. This matrix is this big light of knowing that we must learn to recognise as our very self, before any sense of time, space, world, perception, quality, or doing, is added to it. We just need a little look — to precise our vision — and we may see, just now, just here, in this present experience, that all the passing objects of our life are but the colouring of an incandescence. This incandescence is our being, and our very self.

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Text by Alain Joly

Painting by John Atkinson Grimshaw (1836-1893)

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Website:
John Atkinson Grimshaw (Wikipedia)

Suggestion:
Other ‘Ways of Being’ from the blog…

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Divine Presence

‘Dance at Moulin de la Galette’ – Pierre-Auguste Renoir, 1876 – WikiArt

You know sometime truth has its ways and character. You may be quietly sitting at home in silence, listening to some wise teaching. You may want to feel this unconditioned essence of yourself with your eyes closed, within — oh so within! — and feel enclosed in your beautiful, limitless, eternal self. But that appears to be difficult, not quite the day for it, not quite where you want to be. The ‘I am’ door is making a squeaky sound. Today is to see the face of god in all and everything, out in the world. Today is for the car horns and the smell of exhaust fumes. Today is for being in love with the cigarette butt lying in the gutter at the bus stop, and seeing that there is no more, no less here of presence than there is in the melodious swaying of trees in the summer breeze. Today is to feel my essence borrowed by the facades of buildings and by a nearby, wandering canal. It is to feel my own being shared with all passing strangers — oh, so many friends everywhere! — and with an inquisitive pigeon, or a happy dog coming along. Today is for being a seer and a hearer of beauty. It is for a wedding with truth, in the church of experience. It is for the world marrying its presence with freedom and ease, to the presence of my self. Today is to feel with my hands and eyes and ears, that the whole temple of life, from the hard matter-like objects to the thin air caressing my cheeks, and to the pregnancy of sounds — all that is produced by the senses — is but empty of its own substance, and full of the silent, pristine, ethereal presence of the divine.

Another day may present you with something entirely different. You may find yourself wearied by the world out there and crossed with experience. You may want to be at home, simply at home, and take a long journey within, to be taken into the purity contained in being only being. Today is for sitting quietly and for closing your eyes. It is for the feeling of being — unmixed, unadulterated, whole and held within. It is for the seeing of my interior, where thoughts now come one after the other, to die of their natural death. It is to feel that there is here a space which is ready to welcome my all, and has the power to look and to embrace. Today is for letting my feelings melt in the safe harbour of my being, and for marrying my sensations to the infinite space that contains them. It is wholly for the wondrous feeling that I am. Alone. Pregnant. The one that brings all identifications back to their original womb of presence. Today is to be without characteristics of any sort, and to bathe in emptiness and anonymity. It is for the caress of being, and for the never ending gaze towards infinity. Today is for the merriness in my heart, at the wedding of my self with the eternal now. It is to be showered with the knowing of my reality, and to have my being anointed with the peace contained within it. Today is for a honeymoon with my loving essence, and for a sacred communion with the nameless. It is to feel my own substance full of the silent, pristine, ethereal presence of the divine.

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Text by Alain Joly

Painting by Pierre-Auguste Renoir (1841-1919)

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Website:
– Pierre-Auguste Renoir (Wikipedia)

Suggestion:
– Other ‘Reveries’ from the blog…

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An Abundance of Being

‘Spring’ – Theodore Rousseau, 1852 – WikiArt

There is a subtle recognition that takes place on the way back to yourself, when you stop keeping your mind at the level of avoidance or entertainment. At that binary level you are unrecognisable. You live in a world of your own, in which nothing represents who you are. You live in your mind, pushed around by a never-ending storm of endless reactions and pursuits, unaware of what you are — or even that you are. You are surrounded by opinions and beliefs that limit you, and plunge you into a self-made ignorance. You live in a bubble where illusions have formed the world in which you are caught, and to which you have given yourself up. In there you are as it were hidden from the gaze of god, and the awareness of your divine making or reality is eluding you.

As there is no sense of belonging there, you may feel cut off, lonely, lacking an essential part of yourself. You are suffering from having deviated from your inborn identity. You have forgotten who you are, and are roaming from thought to thought, and from experience to experience, in search of something that will finally complete you. And the tragedy is that you will never find it in the place where you look, for that place is precisely what is separating you from your real self. That place is imaginary, for it is the stage of your misunderstanding. You live in a vacuum, in your world of misunderstanding. All your life takes place within the limits allotted by your false beliefs about life. Where there is only a seamless reality, you have created an illusory boundary between yourself and reality. You have missed that you were yourself that reality. You have lost faith. You committed the sin of being a somebody, and in doing so have pushed reality out of sight, at a distance from you, making it, through the senses, the world in which you live, when you are yourself the reality in which the world appears, and from which it borrows its thousands forms. You have given birth to duality when there was none. Out of oneness, you have invented separation, and have invested all your life in this falsity.

But there is more to it. In veiling your true nature, you have made god unknown to you, and rendered yourself unknown to god. This is why you have religion and the need for a belief in god. But the reality that you have unknowingly pushed away through your desire in being a self separate from it, that reality is in fact what you have been longing for all your life, to complete you. And this completeness is nothing but god coming to live in you, as you, and electing your being as its being, while you yourself recognise God’s being as being your being. That’s how you know god, and are known by god. Simply by being only being, by purifying your identity to its ultimate, indescribable, indestructible, unsoiled essence. So nothing lives away from yourself. You contain it all. You are the receptacle for the spectacle of life. And knowing this will place you right where god has its gaze. It will place you in God’s being, which is the only place where you can be known or seen by god. So knowing yourself is knowing god, and god knowing you, without there being a god or a you. Being only suffices. God is where and when there is an abundance of being.

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Text by Alain Joly

Painting by Theodore Rousseau (1812–1867)

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Website:
Theodore Rousseau (Wikipedia)

Suggestion:
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Four Variations on Love

‘Branch of apple blossoms’ – Gustave Courbet, 1871 – WikiArt

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God is love, and he who dwells in love
dwells in God and God in him.”
~ The Bible (1 John, 4:16)

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I have been reading Meister Eckhart’s sermon n°5 lately, in the translation by Clare de B. Evans, from an old publication named simply ‘Meister Eckhart’. It’s a sermon dedicated to love and its many aspects. At the very beginning, Meister Eckhart sums up the nature of love in four magistral sentences that had a deep effect on me. So I decided to write down some of my take and understanding on each of these quotes by the Meister and present them to you. I hope they will be of interest…

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‘God is love’. That is so, inasmuch as all that can love,
all that does love, he compels by his love to love him.”
~ Meister Eckhart

It is greatly convincing to think that we can love someone or something. That there is something inside us, a quality or emotion, that can spring out of our mind and body and direct itself towards an object, a someone loved, a something loved, and that this love is a personal affair. Well now the question arises: What is it in us that can love, and what is this other that is loved? Notice first that there is nothing in you that can love but love itself. Our mind is in no capacity to love. Rather love happens, shows up naturally, when our mind is set aside for a while — for our thoughts, most of our thoughts, have the power to defeat love, to render it unfelt, dormant, as if inexistent. So if you love anything, anyone, it is not because of him, or her, or it. It is because you have been freed from yourself as a private, separate self or mind, and that in this freedom, love can arise, unfettered, can stretch its dormant limbs, and shine in all directions. After all, have you ever been in love with someone without at the same time loving everyone, everything, around that one? Love is an awakening, an opening. And in that opening, in that crack, reality shows its profound nature. Love is the profound, intimate nature of everything. So when you love someone, there is nothing there, and nobody, no other, that can be loved, except the essence that this one is. Therefore you can only ever love the essence. And you could not love the essence of anything if you were not yourself the essence of everything. That’s how you are compelled, when you love anything, to love god first, which is the essence of both the lover and the loved.

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More reflections on some Meister Eckhart’s statements about love… (READ MORE…)

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The Nectar and the Mouse

‘A Mouse as a Monk’ – Shibata Zeshin – WikiArt

We ought to love our being. That’s what animals do. The ones “that cut the airy way”, and feel “an immense world of delight”, as the poet William Blake wrote. The ones that sit on the window sill, in a pool of light, with eyes clinched in full appreciation of it all. The ones in the meadows, chewing and ruminating away their abundance of presence. Animals have being as their intrinsic companion. They live there, in being, as being, that’s how they have their life in such perfect order. That’s how they are alert, awake, aware, and know patience, diligence, scrutiny, care. They draw their intelligence from their sweet, sublime being, and their fierceness too — their courage, their laws, and their absolute well-being. We humans haven’t been doing so well. We have deviated. We have taken it all so personally. Maybe there is some lesson here to learn. A little wisdom from our friends.

Should we be in any need of a little guru here, I think I dug up the best of all. I didn’t find Its Highness amongst the large and the spectacular, but in the teeming world of our cereal fields, hopping around in the vegetation, feeding on seeds and on nectars. The harvest mouse is a four grams precipitation of the highest wisdom, wrapped in a brown and reddish fur coat, and equipped with a highly prehensile tail for the climb to heavenly heights. This mouse performs a unique sadhana. At the ripest of time, it climbs the stem of a chosen flower, and cuddles itself up in the cup of its petals to have a feast of the most delicious pollen. It stays there, inebriated by the scent and taste of it all. And it so happens that it sweetly falls asleep there. That’s it. This is Its Highness’ special sermon for you. This practice will act on you as a metaphor of the most sacred spiritual endeavour, of the highest understanding. It is saying, or rather showing, that you have to fall asleep to your self, or to sleep your regular self off. To so cuddle in your being as to realise yourself as being only being. To so impregnate yourself with the perfume of being as to be made of its very fragrance. And to so crawl into its blossom and bliss as to be yourself consumed by them both, and revealed as the flower of being itself, as the blooming of happiness.

Its Highness, if it could talk, would say something like this: You have to so totally and one pointedly devote yourself to your being as to feel to be made of it, with devotion fading and appearing as only a residual part of your sense of being a separate self, a somebody other than pure, essential being. You have to love being only being, so that love is no more a bridge between yourself and being, but the very nature of being — of who you are. You will feel the world and experience to be the very scented petals of being. And the stem of your bodily existence will draw its unabated strength and pliability from the rich soil of your selfless self — from its inseparable essence. You will feel yourself to be like a furious, furry ball of being. And experience will appear to you as a sweet, loving cuddle with your own nature. And your life will be made into nothing but a swift disappearance into God’s eternal embrace. That’s how you happy-sleep and wake up to your own nectar of beingness. When you harvest it all. As a mouse simply does.

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Text by Alain Joly

Painting by Shibata Zeshin (1807-1891)

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Websites:
Shibata Zeshin (Wikipedia)
William Blake (Wikipedia)

Suggestion:
– Other posts from ‘Eternity with a Smile’ in the blog…

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