AWARENESS OF THE SENSES #5

p. 65-69

This last section of this chapter provide a beautiful “map” and description of the soul’s journey.

A subtle/or perhaps not so subtle lesson here is that we cannot conceive the soul’s purpose with our mortal mind. Even though we might know this is true, we continue to try to figure things out with our rational mind. These continual efforts to try to understand life through a means that is incapable of of grasping the soul’s purpose leads to much suffering, doubt, anger, frustration, cynicism and all sorts of low vibration thoughts and feelings. We have become dependent on our thinking mind to provide us with spiritual answers, and by doing so become easily lost in the ego’s quagmire.

Our inner knowing or what we sometimes refer to as faith draws us to a deeper openness to the Divine Will within each one of us. We let go and realize our intellect is not going to provide us with the spiritual answers we seek. But that does not mean we live in darkness. We can know that the soul’s journey is a movement of Divine Evolution, ever expanding in Love and Creativity. Now even though we speak of an individual soul here, we need to realize that every soul touches and influences every other soul. As each of us evolves in love and grace so do all others as well.

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So as we begin this lesson we are encouraged to know that our personality self, or what is referred to as the “little” self or ego consciousness is not the same thing as our Christed or Higher Self. (perhaps the simplest way we can distinguish this is knowing the difference between coming from my head and coming from my heart.)

It is the Higher Self that these lessons are directed towards. Now the personality self does not disappear, but we become more and more aware that it is simply a vehicle, a unique vehicle, for the expression of the Divine.

Although we are being helped and guided along what way, spiritual growth and raising our vibration is not a passive thing. It is something we must be actively involved with. Our ego’s idea of activity is running around getting things done, however, my soul’s activity might be quite different. Just recall how much energy we have put into willingness and intention—that is activity. 

What we used to call “cooperation with grace,” is another mode of activity. For instance, if I pray for help and/or guidance I want to be able to “flow” with the information I am given, that is an aspect of my active involvement.

Spiritual awakening can happen in different ways for different people. For some it it appears to be quite sudden, like Paul getting knocked off his horse on the way to Damascus, or Bill Wilson (co-founder of AA) when he said, “If there is  God, let him show himself”—and He did!

For many of us it is what William James (in The Variety of Religious Experience) called “Spiritual Awakening of the education variety”: that is, the awakening happens over a period of time, and sometimes we do not even realize it is going on until we find ourselves responding to life or a life situation differently than we did before.

Many of us (and I include myself here) would love to have one of those seemingly sudden awakenings. Then we could think, “Oh, good the work is over now.” but that is not true either. 

First of all, these sudden awakenings, even though they seem to happen instantaneously are the result of years, perhaps lifetimes of work.

And secondly, as the spiritual teacher Chögyam Trungpa expresses, “Enlightenment is the ego’s biggest disappointment.” 

Thirdly, the type of awakening we experience is also part of our soul’s agenda and learning.

We do not know how these “extra-sensory” gifts are going to show up in our lives, and the focus her is not not he future, but not he resent. 

“This is not about going someplace else. This is about being here now, as yourself, as the Christed Self you were intended to be, and that is the self that understands her self, his self, to be an aspect of the Creator, and therefore in congruence with the will of the Creator in its dominion.”

When stuck or frustrated or perceiving a block in the road: 

“And now we will tell you what you are going to do with the tree trunk on the road.

“I now stand before me as my Realized Self, the self that is perfect and conscious and aware. And as my self in this perfected state, I choose to transform and transmute that which stands in the way of my soul’s purpose. I am now clearing the blocks in the road of my realization to bring me into manifestation with my awareness and with my ability as a Divine Being. I am choosing to release this block in accordance with my highest good and in accordance with the Divine Will. Word I am Word through this intention. Word I am Word.”

“And your journey, everyone, is to go home, to your own Divine Self, and to your own self as completely aware of who she is, who he is, as a Divine Being operating in congruence with the Divine Will.

“I am one with all that I see before me” is the decree we give you now.

“I am one through all that I see before me. Word I am Word through this intention. Word I am Word.”

AIKIDO MASTER STORY from Sunday morning:

This story from Aikido master Terry Dobson is one of my favorites because it shows how to bring about harmony by embracing conflict with compassion and understanding: The train clanked and rattled through the suburbs of Tokyo on a drowsy spring afternoon. Our car was comparatively empty, a few housewives with their kids in tow, some old folks going shopping. I gazed absently at the drab houses and dusty hedgerows. At one station the doors opened and suddenly the afternoon quiet was shattered by a man bellowing violent, incomprehensible curses. The man staggered into our car. He wore laborer’s clothing and he was big, drunk, and dirty. Screaming, he swung at a woman holding a baby. The blow sent her spinning into the laps of an elderly couple. It was a miracle the baby was unharmed. Terrified, the couple jumped up and scrambled toward the end of the car. The laborer aimed a kick at the retreating back of the old woman but missed as she scuttled to safety. This so enraged the drunk that he grabbed the metal pole in the center of the car and tried to wrench it out of its stanchion. I could see that one of his hands was cut and bleeding. The train lurched ahead, the passengers frozen with fear. I stood up. I was young then, some twenty years ago, and in pretty good shape. I had been putting in a solid eight hours of aikido training every day for the past three years. I liked to throw and grapple. I thought I was tough. The trouble was, my martial skill was untested in actual combat. As students of aikido, we were not allowed to fight. Aikido, my teacher had said again and again, is the art of reconciliation. Whoever has the mind to fight has broken his connection to the universe. If you try to dominate people, you are already defeated. We study how to resolve conflict, not how to start it. I listened to his words. I tried so hard. I even went so far as to cross the street to avoid the kids, the pinball punks who lounged around the train station. My forbearance exalted me. I was both tough and holy. In my heart, however, I wanted an absolutely legitimate opportunity whereby I might save the innocent by destroying the guilty. This is it, I said to myself, as I stood up. People are in danger. IfI don’t do something fast, somebody will probably get hurt. Seeing me stand up the drunk recognized the chance to focus his rage. “Ah ha!” he roared. “A foreigner! You need a lesson in Japanese manners.” I held on lightly to the commuter strap overhead and gave him a slow look of disgust and dismissal. I planned to take this turkey apart but he had to make the first move. I wanted him mad so I pursed my lips and blew him an insolent kiss. “All right,” he hollered, “You’re going to get a lesson.” He gathered himself for a rush at me. A fraction of a second before he could move, someone shouted “Hey!” It was ear-splitting. I remember the strangely joyous, lilting quality of it as though you and a friend had been searching diligently for something and he had suddenly stumbled upon it—“ Hey!” I wheeled to my left, the drunk spun to his right. We both stared down at a little old Japanese man. He must have been well into his seventies, this tiny gentleman, sitting there immaculate in his kimono. He took no notice of me but beamed delightedly at the laborer as though he had a most important, most welcome secret to share. “Come here,” the old man said in an easy vernacular, beckoning to the drunk. “Come here and talk with me.” He waved his hand lightly. The big man followed as if on a string. He planted his feet belligerently in front of the old gentleman and roared above the clacking wheels. “Why the hell should I talk to you?” The drunk now had his back to me. If his elbow moved so much as a millimeter I’d drop him in his socks. The old man continued to beam at the laborer. “Whatcha been drinkin?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with interest. “I’ve been drinking sake,” the laborer bellowed back, “and it’s none of your business.” Flecks of spittle spattered the old man. “Oh, that’s wonderful,” the old man said, “absolutely wonderful. You see I love sake too. Every night me and my wife, she’s seventy-six you know, we warm up a little bottle of sake and we take it out in the garden and we sit on our old wooden bench and we watch the sun go down and we look to see how our persimmon tree is doing. My great-grandfather planted that tree and we worry about whether it will recover from those ice storms we had last winter. Our tree has done better than I expected though, especially when you consider the poor quality of the soil. It is gratifying to watch 

when we take our sake and go out to enjoy the evening even when it rains.” He looked up at the laborer, his eyes twinkling. As he struggled to follow the old man’s conversation, the drunk’s face began to soften. His fists slowly unclenched. “Yeah,” he said, “I love persimmons too.” His voice trailed off. “Yes,” said the old man, smiling, “and I am sure you have a wonderful wife.” “Nah. My wife died.” Very gently, swaying with the motion of the train, the big man began to sob. “I don’t got no wife. I don’t got no home. I don’t got no job. I’m so ashamed of myself.” Tears rolled down his cheeks. A spasm of despair rippled through his body. There I was standing in my well-scrubbed youthful innocence, my make-this-world-safe-for-democracy righteousness. I suddenly felt dirtier than he was. The train arrived at my stop. As the door opened, I heard the old man cluck sympathetically. “My, my,” he said, “that is a difficult predicament. Sit down here and tell me about it.” I turned my head for one last look. The laborer was sprawled on the seat, his head in the old man’s lap. The old man was softly stroking the filthy matted hair. As the train pulled away, I sat down on a bench. What I had wanted to do with muscle had been accomplished with kind words. I had just seen aikido tried in combat, and the essence of it was love.