It is sometimes difficult to choose the right book. After the last three presented here, all spiritual heavies, I was looking for something a little lighter. Hallucinogenics? Poltergeists? And aliens, angels, demi-gods, conspiracy theories - there are plenty of books on all, and all fall withing the interests of this blog. I will eventually return to those and other topics, but last night as I searched Amazon, each of those seemed so - immature - compared with the big stuff, the ultimate, the Ground of Being. They are not, or are not necessarily, fluff, however. Ebola - style plagues come and go, but if one is in an effected area, it is no child's play. And while UFO's might seem silly in comparison to that temporary but miserable disease, that is not necessarily the case, either. That is why we explore them here.
But the heavy stuff got the better of me, and out came the title "Seeds of Contemplation" by an old favorite, Thomas Merton. We do have official Catholic saints in America these days, but Merton is probably the closest to a saint that most Americans willw ever know, even though he is not one and would drop from astonishment if he ever was pronounced one. He was a writer and a good one, and is well known for that; he was an Ivy Leager in the Roaring 20's who could have made a fortune, but instead made one for his monastery. He had drunk too much, had unmarried sex (which may have produced a child) and died under quirky circumstances while on pilgrimage to the Far East. And he understood God, which is what this current book is about, and is why I wished to switch to another genre for a while.
For God, as everyone who truly knows KNOWS, is undefinable, which is proclaimed again in the very first chapters of this book. Think you are getting a handle on ultimate reality with your meditation or in your church? Think LSD or Mushrooms are bringing you to the top of the sacred food chain? Think again. Or don't think, because one cannot know God through thinking. God is not an object or a thought or a concept; God cannot be known through one's own efforts; and IT cannot be possessed ever. Nor will one's self ever get to know God, for the self as we understand it is an illusion, a mask; we will only know this Ground of Being when we are taken from ourselves and are offered, are gifted with this presence. It is "I AM", just as the real self who experiences it, not the self that will, as Merton says, most surely and completely die. And it is found, or gifted, with the help (but only help) of contemplation.
Such things I read last night in this new book, and such things I have read by true masters before. They do not bring comfort. They tell us that God is not a congenial father, and we do not drift into heaven as a healthy and happier version of ourselves. As Kathleen Singh pointed out in her book on death, the self must be burned off at considerable cost and pain before Union can come. Merton agrees: contemplation does not end suffering or doubt: in this world, it brings greater doubt and often greater suffering than normal. The 'God' it allows to come is not a hide-away from pain, but rather a stripping away, a decentering that is essential for an eventual centering - without our comfortable little selves. It is the hero's journey, and few of us - certainly not me - are heroes.
Why then continue to forge ahead into this frightening abyss? We might say that if we want to know the ultimate truth that it is essential, but we already know that it will bring us no lasting comfort - quite the opposite. It will not bring us money or fame or respect, but if anything, poverty and scorn. Why then, when it will all be made present at death anyway?
I could say that I am drawn to it, and that would be true, but so are we all eventually. For me, however, it has come to speak through a lonely destitution that I have found to be oddly pleasant and liberating. Reading Merton's chapter on what contemplation is NOT (which is the route the Eastern sages use to tell disciples what it is, because one cannot name or describe IT), I involuntarily got the image of a much-younger me while hitchhiking through Kansas. I was at this point destitute, going nowhere, and actually physically lost - but this is what I wrote (in my book Dream Weaver, Chapter 12: Dust in the Wind): "This place, this empty place in Kansas, had never figured in my dreams while hitching on the road, but I see it now as one of the more sublime gifts granted during my travels. There were, in that moment, no goals, no fears, no complaints, no anything but youth in a great and open space. In it was the essence of happiness. For years to come, the thought of that great, gentle, open space would smooth the edges and help guide me from foolishness." This was not Nirvana, but the mirror image in this world - a draw, I now know, to sublime Nothing, to freedom, which gives us more than we can ever get in this world that we know. Once allowed to taste it, our world is changed - and in this world, this change is very often for the worse, for unless we are led to a life task though grace, we can never care enough about success to obtain it.
Merton brought success to his monastery, as he was clearly called to do. As we read him, he brings us to the edge of our own Kansas, but from there, the chips will fall as they may. It is not satisfying in itself, more like an itch, but once bitten we are bid to scratch and scratch. "Better to not start the spiritual path; but if started, better to finish." How can we refuse such a challenge? FK
But the heavy stuff got the better of me, and out came the title "Seeds of Contemplation" by an old favorite, Thomas Merton. We do have official Catholic saints in America these days, but Merton is probably the closest to a saint that most Americans willw ever know, even though he is not one and would drop from astonishment if he ever was pronounced one. He was a writer and a good one, and is well known for that; he was an Ivy Leager in the Roaring 20's who could have made a fortune, but instead made one for his monastery. He had drunk too much, had unmarried sex (which may have produced a child) and died under quirky circumstances while on pilgrimage to the Far East. And he understood God, which is what this current book is about, and is why I wished to switch to another genre for a while.
For God, as everyone who truly knows KNOWS, is undefinable, which is proclaimed again in the very first chapters of this book. Think you are getting a handle on ultimate reality with your meditation or in your church? Think LSD or Mushrooms are bringing you to the top of the sacred food chain? Think again. Or don't think, because one cannot know God through thinking. God is not an object or a thought or a concept; God cannot be known through one's own efforts; and IT cannot be possessed ever. Nor will one's self ever get to know God, for the self as we understand it is an illusion, a mask; we will only know this Ground of Being when we are taken from ourselves and are offered, are gifted with this presence. It is "I AM", just as the real self who experiences it, not the self that will, as Merton says, most surely and completely die. And it is found, or gifted, with the help (but only help) of contemplation.
Such things I read last night in this new book, and such things I have read by true masters before. They do not bring comfort. They tell us that God is not a congenial father, and we do not drift into heaven as a healthy and happier version of ourselves. As Kathleen Singh pointed out in her book on death, the self must be burned off at considerable cost and pain before Union can come. Merton agrees: contemplation does not end suffering or doubt: in this world, it brings greater doubt and often greater suffering than normal. The 'God' it allows to come is not a hide-away from pain, but rather a stripping away, a decentering that is essential for an eventual centering - without our comfortable little selves. It is the hero's journey, and few of us - certainly not me - are heroes.
Why then continue to forge ahead into this frightening abyss? We might say that if we want to know the ultimate truth that it is essential, but we already know that it will bring us no lasting comfort - quite the opposite. It will not bring us money or fame or respect, but if anything, poverty and scorn. Why then, when it will all be made present at death anyway?
I could say that I am drawn to it, and that would be true, but so are we all eventually. For me, however, it has come to speak through a lonely destitution that I have found to be oddly pleasant and liberating. Reading Merton's chapter on what contemplation is NOT (which is the route the Eastern sages use to tell disciples what it is, because one cannot name or describe IT), I involuntarily got the image of a much-younger me while hitchhiking through Kansas. I was at this point destitute, going nowhere, and actually physically lost - but this is what I wrote (in my book Dream Weaver, Chapter 12: Dust in the Wind): "This place, this empty place in Kansas, had never figured in my dreams while hitching on the road, but I see it now as one of the more sublime gifts granted during my travels. There were, in that moment, no goals, no fears, no complaints, no anything but youth in a great and open space. In it was the essence of happiness. For years to come, the thought of that great, gentle, open space would smooth the edges and help guide me from foolishness." This was not Nirvana, but the mirror image in this world - a draw, I now know, to sublime Nothing, to freedom, which gives us more than we can ever get in this world that we know. Once allowed to taste it, our world is changed - and in this world, this change is very often for the worse, for unless we are led to a life task though grace, we can never care enough about success to obtain it.
Merton brought success to his monastery, as he was clearly called to do. As we read him, he brings us to the edge of our own Kansas, but from there, the chips will fall as they may. It is not satisfying in itself, more like an itch, but once bitten we are bid to scratch and scratch. "Better to not start the spiritual path; but if started, better to finish." How can we refuse such a challenge? FK
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