Sunday 31 July 2011

Of Crop Circles and Ley Lines or - The Green Harper

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A summer-time fascination for crop circles has revived an old interest in ley-lines. I am 'connecting things up'. A cursory look at the Ordnance Survey map for my area reveals a plethora of holy wells, standing stones, burial grounds and churches, all of which can be formed into lines of power - with the help of a little bit of imagination. But what am I connecting to? What source am I searching for? What source am I finding? Am I looking into the blue eyes of St. Brigid, the green eyes of the Dagda Mor? I see their eyes looking inward, gazing at another form of eternity, a different map. The sky reflects on the water in the holy wells and I wait for my chance to dive in.

What a different life there is inside! The chambered cairns and burial mounds begin to speak their secrets. The old lives live again, noisy and jostling. We are looking for the original drink, the well of wisdom, the pattern that rises in the barley-field in high summer. And the voice above others says, 'Look inside yourself!' So I consent to be the handmaid of Christ and the Green Harper for a time to look into the alternate universe inside myself.

How many lines of power I see! How can I connect them? Churches and stones and crosses go shooting off to left and right. Am I looking for a saint to reveal my way? I have agreed to be my own saint for the duration. The tension in the lines is almost more than I can bear. Is it possible to be your own guiding principle? I have no other choice. The artistic form in the crop circle is my own forming power. It is the force of wisdom. I cannot delegate - I cannot ascribe it to any buried holy man. It goes back to myself. The holy self is what I see in the wells, in the shining eyes, in the lines of force craving for a beginning. I am destined to work this out endlessly in the crop of my life. The possibilities are limitless. The holy self in me is the same as the one I find splashed across my map.

Therefore I say, you have maps folded in you - maps and maps. There is no other revelator than yourself. The wisdom of the world is in your own eyes and its sound carries through time like the music of the harp.

Jay


Wednesday 27 July 2011

Consciousness and Its Alterations

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I value consciousness. That seems like an absurd statement - so obvious. What do we have without consciousness? For many people consciousness is a pain and trial - for some it holds terrors. We're inclined to treat it casually, to take it for granted. We medicate it when it causes troubles - apply various soporifics to lessen its insatiable appetite. For consciousness also eats us up. It's so silent in itself - what does it want from us?

I feel I have a partnership with consciousness - I look into its invisibility, listen into its silence. I know this is a privilege, almost a luxury. But the very pain and suffering of existence - the non-comprehension, the sickness, the death - insist on it. To be in partnership. I feel and believe that stones have consciousness, trees, stars, animals of course. We all share the same borders.

So what about the altering of it? How many ways can it be changed? Sleep, dreams, daylight hours - three normal states. Coma, anaesthetic, schizophrenia - abnormal states. Trance, possession, suspended animation.. Drink and drugs - normal or abnormal? What about states where consciousness is 'enhanced' or 'heightened'? And the big one - death. What do we think, feel or know then?

For me consciousness is consciousness. Obvious again. But there are two senses of the word. Consciousness, as in that troublesome thing we have all the time; and consciousness in the sense of being conscious, being aware of something: reaching into it. Meditation occupies a unique position here - a state of consciousness which enhances itself. And what about death? There is plenty of evidence - and teachings - to suggest that the quality of consciousness you possess after death - indeed the very existence of consciousness - depends on your spiritual activity or lack of it on this side of the border. The problem is that consciousness is the unknown known. It's the intangible thing we are.

Beyond a certain point I believe it's a great adventure. Perhaps when you commit yourself to it, accept the death in it, as Krishna taught Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gita. Stop clinging.

So we come back to the question of honouring consciousness. After all it does advance, even if - on the face of it - we are conscious of so much less than the societies and civilizations of the past. Could they not actually hear the stones speaking, the trees, stars and animals? How can I say I am more advanced? Because I have consciousness. I have the pain and burden of consciousness, which includes thinking. It includes the freedom of knowing you're conscious.

And so to the moral issue of changing it. This is a difficult one. Mind-altering drugs are more popular than ever. For some people these have a pro-active value in society - they expand awareness and help to usher in change. There is a sense of a great upward heave: enhancing, meditating, fighting for, evolving, sustaining. But there is also the danger of euphemism: when does 'medicinal' mean merely narcotic, when does 'heightened' simply mean hallucinogenic? In other words when do we stop being conscious? It seems to me it's a very fine balancing act to be conscious in the true sense while altering your consciousness. The reason for this is that - I believe - consciousness bears a responsibility. It is the very thing we are.

Of course there's infinite scope for self-delusion when anything intoxicating is present. All the words we have in our vocabulary for legitimizing things come into play, rightly or wrongly. Self-deception, self-knowledge, honesty.

Conscious. The word itself carries the answer. Does it judge? No. Does it bear a responsibility? I think so. It says, 'Don't stop'. Isn't that the essential feature of consciousness? Not to stop, not to give itself up. But it also says, 'Don't be in pain'. Or so I believe. Suffering is where consciousness is tangible. Meditation is where it's intangible. The Buddha was the incomparable master in this: enlightening consciousness in response to suffering. As if answering the call of consciousness itself.

I come to the conclusion, therefore, that consciousness does not want to give itself up; it wants the big adventure; but it also wants to find the solution to suffering - and ultimately to death - in itself.

I was prompted to write this by the great number of articles which allude to the alterations of consciousness by one means or another. In response to the question, 'Should you/shouldn't you?' I would say: 'Honour consciousness - treat it as your partner.' Listen to its voice, as the ancients listened to the voices in the stones and trees. If you fail to honour it, it will come back to haunt you. This is not to say that if you lift the cup to extend your consciousness then you are dishonouring it. The paradoxical answer to this - and pretty much to every question in life - is, 'Be more conscious'. Each person must find their own way of doing that - while preserving honesty.

With best wishes,
Jay

Friday 15 July 2011

The Open Door (for Andy)

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My nephew died recently at the age of twenty-nine. It was sudden and unexpected - a deep tragedy for the family. Being on the periphery for the first few days after the news reached me, I was more able than most to devote myself to prayer, contemplation, readings and quietness. Placing my nephew in the centre of my thoughts I could think, speak or read with him clearly in mind. I could speak to him. But talking to others and looking a little further I realized that prayer is a very open concept. By nature it is open. If you have the loved one at the heart of it you can also extend your activity into any area that is special to you. Thus, song, poetry, music, dance, painting, even cooking (my nephew was a chef), can also be prayer. Just keep the image of the one you're thinking of closely before you. In this way you open a door. You make your world consistent with the world of the person who has passed on. Why do this? Well, one reason is that the person who has departed is now occupying a completely new space, a new environment. It stands to reason that they have to find their bearings - whatever their relationship was to the spiritual during life. In that case - I believe - the shared environment of thoughts can help as an orientation.  But not only is their world new and different - ours is too. It is different because they are no longer in it and we also have to find our bearings. Therefore the process works for both sides.

I said that communication of this sort opens a door. Where is that door? This is the question which has preoccupied humankind since the beginning of time. The answer is simple. The door is in the heart. Not in the head, which is too full of the rubbish our civilization puts there. The door is in the heart. You can approach it very quietly. You can move towards it and, as you go, not just the air but matter itself grows thinner. It grows thinner and thinner until, with a little gasp, you realize it has disappeared altogether. And then you find the door in front of you, slightly open. It's in that moment that all the song, dance, poems, music, speech, paintings and - cooking - go weaving through the door ahead of you. Something comes back from the other side. What is that? Better thoughts for a start. None of your rubbish! Inspirations, ideas, feelings, pictures, warmth, love - decisions. Sometimes when you are about to make the wrong decision you will feel a nudge at your elbow. This is my conviction. You may not believe. You may be a sceptic. In that case I suggest simply that you don't close the door. Don't let the thoughts in your head close that door for you. Openness is life, closedness is death.

My nephew was a person who opened doors. He opened doors to people - that much is clear. He also opened doors to places - he was a traveller, an explorer.  He understood  'the great outdoors'. It seems to me he is in the greatest outdoors of all now. And I believe he is completely equal to the challenge.

Jay
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