Went today to a Church called SpiritWorks: Center for Spiritual Living. It is a Church dedicated to New Age ideals... or, as their Reverend was quick to correct me, "New Thought."
I felt that the energy of the congregation was warm and welcoming. There was certainly a lot of happiness being passed around. The people were good and the Reverend spoke with a good deal of passion. I can see that this is a Church family of people looking for a chance to connect with God in a more "spiritually logical" way....
However, there is something about the New Age movement that strikes me as a tree without roots. A structure on a faulty foundation. The Reverend quoted from many sources, including one quote from the Bible taken completely out of context, and several other quotes from "spiritual" books written by "practitioners," namely Science of Mind by Ernest Holmes. I cornered the Reverend after his service and asked what exact philosophy his Church is drawing from. He seemed confused by the question. I stated that there appears to be a large mix of Buddhist philosophy and Judeo-Christian terminology (such as Spirit, Soul, and God.) At this point, he said that he draws most of his sermons from the book by Ernest Holmes.
My question is really this -- if you are teaching a congregation about spiritual Enlightenment, are you Enlightened yourself? And if you are not Enlightened yourself, then are you teaching from the words of someone who is? Anyone who has read a religious text can rephrase it, teach it, and call themselves Enlightened or "Awakened to the Spirit" or whatever correlating term there is. That does not mean they really are. God and unity is more than a concept -- it is an experience, and to call people "spiritual masters" simply for understanding an idea is extremely misleading. The blind cannot lead the blind. To practice a true spiritual path that will lead to any sort of real, permanent awakening, one needs a teacher who has reached that level of Enlightenment. The inability of the Science of Mind organizations to unify themselves into a singular structure is already a sign that their leadership is divided, meaning, not unified... meaning, ultimately, that nothing is unified in their hearts... and as we all should know, Enlightenment is the internal experience of unity, of the interconnectedness of all things.
I understand that certain people are drawn to the New Age movement because it appears on the surface to "make more sense" than older religions. A lot of people are tired of feeling "guilty" or fearing "God's punishment" so are seeking another way to connect to God. But really, if you are going to attempt to spiritually awaken yourself, you should follow the path of someone who has actually reached Enlightenment... like, say, the Buddha, or arguably Christ. All that I heard in today's sermon was a bunch of New Age terms such as "god self" and "synergy" pasted over what was really a dim shadow of Eastern philosophy, misinterpreted and misrepresented to a congregation of innocent people in search of spiritual truth.
There is no spiritual truth to be found in the New Age. Not until we have a new prophet, a new Buddha, a new Teacher who has achieved a true union with God, a true realization of the higher Self. Until then, there will be no Enlightenment from the New Age... only people squinting to see auras and attempting to feel their "chakra energy." Do some research before you decide to throw your heart into something. Don't be fooled by pseudo-logical terms and explanations. God ultimately defies logic... and the path to Enlightenment has nothing to do with definitions and mind tricks and everything to do with acts of compassion. For every hour you give in Church, give two hours to the homeless, two hours to the sick, two hours to those who are abandoned and broken... this is the path to Enlightenment.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Confessions I
And when I have had my fill....
When I am exhausted and drained at the end of the day, and I reach home, and everything seems empty... because my days are full of rush and responsibility, fragile conversation and my mind distracted in prayer, the heart burdened by a thousand worries, unknowns, nameless fear and illusory danger.... I am not immune to worry, to uncertainty, to the fear of being abandoned....
And at the end of the day, when the panic is over and I come back to this house that is not yet my house, and not my father's house, and no one's home but that of my old self, that other life which has left me....
When I come home, and I am somewhere in between, walking interstitial halls....
I, too, touch my forehead to the floor and beg for release, beg for God to take me away, to save me, to stop this horrible lingering depression, the ache in my chest that is the absence of you, the hole left where your love filled me, drained as your life has been drained, taken to some Heavenly field far from my reach.... Even in dreams, you are not the same....
Even I cry out, even I cling tightly to the walls, knowing that He is the wall, and He is the floor, and He is each groan of my heart begging for mercy, for relief, for resolution to what is an endless tunnel, a darkness undefinable, where not even hope is a lantern for there is nothing to hope for, only Our plan, Our tasks that I pray will be enough, enough to make a life worth living, enough to make my suffering an offering, a sacrifice, my self to a greater Self, a greater Good, a higher House in Your Name....
I break apart in these halls... over and over again, I die here and am reborn... here, in my Father's house, where He is always listening, where He is always building, always healing, always promising and always whispering of love.... This home that is not yet my home, and yet has always been Home, is the place where I seek His shelter and where I pretend, in the dim light of a midnight room, that He sleeps next to me, His Heart pressed in mine, and where death resides He breathes life, He breathes tomorrow, tomorrow, always tomorrow, again tomorrow we shall die together, and I am Still Here....
When I am exhausted and drained at the end of the day, and I reach home, and everything seems empty... because my days are full of rush and responsibility, fragile conversation and my mind distracted in prayer, the heart burdened by a thousand worries, unknowns, nameless fear and illusory danger.... I am not immune to worry, to uncertainty, to the fear of being abandoned....
And at the end of the day, when the panic is over and I come back to this house that is not yet my house, and not my father's house, and no one's home but that of my old self, that other life which has left me....
When I come home, and I am somewhere in between, walking interstitial halls....
I, too, touch my forehead to the floor and beg for release, beg for God to take me away, to save me, to stop this horrible lingering depression, the ache in my chest that is the absence of you, the hole left where your love filled me, drained as your life has been drained, taken to some Heavenly field far from my reach.... Even in dreams, you are not the same....
Even I cry out, even I cling tightly to the walls, knowing that He is the wall, and He is the floor, and He is each groan of my heart begging for mercy, for relief, for resolution to what is an endless tunnel, a darkness undefinable, where not even hope is a lantern for there is nothing to hope for, only Our plan, Our tasks that I pray will be enough, enough to make a life worth living, enough to make my suffering an offering, a sacrifice, my self to a greater Self, a greater Good, a higher House in Your Name....
I break apart in these halls... over and over again, I die here and am reborn... here, in my Father's house, where He is always listening, where He is always building, always healing, always promising and always whispering of love.... This home that is not yet my home, and yet has always been Home, is the place where I seek His shelter and where I pretend, in the dim light of a midnight room, that He sleeps next to me, His Heart pressed in mine, and where death resides He breathes life, He breathes tomorrow, tomorrow, always tomorrow, again tomorrow we shall die together, and I am Still Here....
In response to my "Religion in Literature" class...
How do you think this book, The World is Made of Stories by David R. Loy, helps you fathom the relationship between "religion" and "literature" and between the stories we hear and the ones we live?
When reading The World is Made of Stories, I couldn't help but think that all literature is written on moral premise, and therefore, religious premise. We are inherently religious creatures, as moral and ethical ideology spills into almost every facet of our existence (and every facet of our existence, according to this book, is a story.) The stories we live by are moral stories, ethical stories, questions of "Why do bad things happen to good people?" and "Why am I suffering? Do I deserve to? What is the meaning of my life?" In this sense, the stories of others help to shape our own story; the stories we are told growing up are what create the stories of our lives, our relationships, what we value and what we expect to achieve. Likewise, the stories we read in books as adults or as children can also change our experience of reality, the "story of our life."
It would appear that we are all spiritual beings searching for a spiritual realm of truth; an understanding within ourselves, a liberation from the stories that tie us to our roles and to the identities of others. Literature reflects this, as most literature is an exploration of the human experience, questioning the purpose of our lives, the way we effect others and history, and the collective truths that transcend history. Literature draws attention to the less apparent stories that dictate our lives, allowing us to view these stories at a certain distance so we can analyze them. However, the stories that we live by every day are invisible to us, a clear lens that we see through without realizing its own color or texture. Much of literature reflects history, and history itself is a story. Rewrite the story, rewrite history, rewrite literature, rewrite the lens, rewrite the self....
But what of the self outside the story? If our experience of the world is our own narrative, and we can change those narratives by changing our ideology and values, then what remains cohesive and constant? This is where questions of nothingness and Nirvana enter the picture (nothingness and Nirvana being, of course, another story.) As The World is Made of Stories says, "For identity to change, there must be something other than that narrative, something that is not bound by it."
After reading the text, I agree with the premise that we are coauthors of our lives, with the ability to direct our own stories, at least to a certain extent. However, I believe this only happens after Nirvana, after an essential realization of the permanent self. Nirvana is an inherent "knowing" of reality and an interconnectedness with the true Author, the Self that is in all things, and the transient emptiness of all things in relation to that Self. Perhaps Nirvana is our own innate ability to create of ourselves the perfect story, one that we can predict, which we feel is already written because we are instinctively awakened to the causality in all things. One doesn't need to understand the rings in a pond when one has become the rings in the pond.
I always feel that there is too much emphasis on emptiness and nothingness in many discussions on Nirvana... it is not that Nirvana is "empty" or "nothing," but rather, that all other things become "empty" and "nothing" in relation to it. "It is not understood by those who understand It. It is understood by those who understand It not." (Upanishads) This is the difference between concept and experience. You can describe bondage, but one does not consciously experience one's own bondage when one has only ever been bound. In the same way, one can conceptualize liberation until one is liberated, when it becomes a state of being, and then all description and explanation becomes meaningless. You can only know freedom; you can only live freedom; you cannot draw it or set rules to it or describe it to others.
As Nirvana is an ineffable experience, can that experience be "Storied"? Not the results of the experience, or the path leading to it, but the experience in and of itself, one that is self contained, yet transcends all causal reality. Is Nirvana therefore the Self that is beyond narrative? Is Nirvana the Self that began all narrative? Or is Nirvana the ability to see all life as narrative, and to detach from it, observing all things with an impartial eye? These questions are largely unanswerable, but I would like to write into my own life's narrative that yes, Nirvana is the Author beyond the story, which writes the story according to the events prescribed in our hearts, which, given an honest understanding of our Selves, allow us to know the reason for our lives, our own significance, and our own fragile transience. In this sense, literature and Nirvana serve the same purpose: to allow us the impartiality to examine our own narratives and perhaps coauthor new ones.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
music
My strength and my armor, my sword, my steel, my righteous storm; my soldier, conqueror, healer, mover, leader; my plan, my mountain, my highest peak and weakest bone, my water and bread, my breath, secrets and solitude, hidden groves, shady trees and cool depths; the water than runs, that climbs, that laughs through fields of cattails and fawns; the air that sinks, the clouds that lift, the fire that rises in the East, which sleeps in the West, which moves and dreams and speaks as dust -- What is your temper? Your tremors, your precious grains, pebbles, inescapable weather, undeniable currents, unrivaled need and the heart always aflame....
Don't you ever let go....
My strength and my armor, my sword, my steel, my righteous storm; my soldier, conqueror, healer, mover, leader; my plan, my mountain, my highest peak and weakest bone, my water and bread, my breath, secrets and solitude, hidden groves, shady trees and cool depths; the water than runs, that climbs, that laughs through fields of cattails and fawns; the air that sinks, the clouds that lift, the fire that rises in the East, which sleeps in the West, which moves and dreams and speaks as dust -- What is your temper? Your tremors, your precious grains, pebbles, inescapable weather, undeniable currents, unrivaled need and the heart always aflame....
Don't you ever let go....
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
Far be it from me to take your truth from you....
I would consider myself a terrible failure if these writings made even one person doubt their faith. Rather, I would hope that these pages might affirm your truth, no matter where it stems from. I would hope that instead of seeing obstacles, you might find a plethora of light buried in these words, a wide spectrum of love. I would ask that you do not look at the differences between us. Differences are what God made, because God loves to make many countless things. Instead, I would ask you to find what is common; what is permanent between both of us, both of our beliefs, both of our hearts.
If we wanted to unite the world, we could do so right now. Unity has nothing to do with a singular ideology. Unity is in consciousness, in mutual understanding, in reciprocity and respect. If we wanted unity in the world, which some of us very badly do, then the mighty must consent to come down to the weak; the prosperous must bow their heads to the less fortunate; the healers must go out and heal the suffering. Likewise, the weak must not despise the brave; the less fortunate must accept the help of the prosperous; those who are suffering must not blame the healers. We must consent to need each other. We must live beyond ourselves.
It has only ever been the minority who has sacrificed for the greater good. Imagine if it was the majority who moved with a great rush towards love, towards magnanimous action, towards unrivaled generosity. Imagine a world consumed by a love-madness, where all people have a hand to hold, a light to turn on and off, warmth, satisfaction, security. These are things we can give.
I do not know if I will ever be able to give to the world what my heart desires. I do not know if it is by my own limitations, or by God's plan, that I am trapped in my station in life. Perhaps that is my final sacrifice... to let it go, to overcome it. I am far from perfect, I am far from being what God calls me to be....
But I would promise you that a world united is already a reality in my heart: all people, all creeds, all truth. I love all stories of faith, all sacrifice, all meditations and all philosophies, even those that refute God. What is true is true. Ideas are not true. Life is true. Here is true. Now is true.
So when you read these letters... these thoughts, these pages, these murmurs of love... I only ask you to see what is true. I only ask you to see it within me, and to see it within yourself. It is you, dear reader, who is the greatest truth in me, because in you I see a united world; in you I see our greater Self, the most beautiful seed of creation, our loving God and the purpose of my life. I am alive that I might die for you. We are all on a glorious walk into death, into love, into new life... and I would love for you to walk with me....
I would consider myself a terrible failure if these writings made even one person doubt their faith. Rather, I would hope that these pages might affirm your truth, no matter where it stems from. I would hope that instead of seeing obstacles, you might find a plethora of light buried in these words, a wide spectrum of love. I would ask that you do not look at the differences between us. Differences are what God made, because God loves to make many countless things. Instead, I would ask you to find what is common; what is permanent between both of us, both of our beliefs, both of our hearts.
If we wanted to unite the world, we could do so right now. Unity has nothing to do with a singular ideology. Unity is in consciousness, in mutual understanding, in reciprocity and respect. If we wanted unity in the world, which some of us very badly do, then the mighty must consent to come down to the weak; the prosperous must bow their heads to the less fortunate; the healers must go out and heal the suffering. Likewise, the weak must not despise the brave; the less fortunate must accept the help of the prosperous; those who are suffering must not blame the healers. We must consent to need each other. We must live beyond ourselves.
It has only ever been the minority who has sacrificed for the greater good. Imagine if it was the majority who moved with a great rush towards love, towards magnanimous action, towards unrivaled generosity. Imagine a world consumed by a love-madness, where all people have a hand to hold, a light to turn on and off, warmth, satisfaction, security. These are things we can give.
I do not know if I will ever be able to give to the world what my heart desires. I do not know if it is by my own limitations, or by God's plan, that I am trapped in my station in life. Perhaps that is my final sacrifice... to let it go, to overcome it. I am far from perfect, I am far from being what God calls me to be....
But I would promise you that a world united is already a reality in my heart: all people, all creeds, all truth. I love all stories of faith, all sacrifice, all meditations and all philosophies, even those that refute God. What is true is true. Ideas are not true. Life is true. Here is true. Now is true.
So when you read these letters... these thoughts, these pages, these murmurs of love... I only ask you to see what is true. I only ask you to see it within me, and to see it within yourself. It is you, dear reader, who is the greatest truth in me, because in you I see a united world; in you I see our greater Self, the most beautiful seed of creation, our loving God and the purpose of my life. I am alive that I might die for you. We are all on a glorious walk into death, into love, into new life... and I would love for you to walk with me....
God's Secrets
People guard secrets. People covet what they have, what they've "earned," what they think they own, what they think is owed to them. People resist sharing in the smallest, most petty ways.
But God doesn't resist. God doesn't want to hide. It is we who hide from God. We are the ones who refuse to listen, who refuse to share our lives with God, our troubles, our worries, or even more importantly, the gifts and abundance God has given us. We have been called on to share, to lift each other up; if you haven't noticed, we were designed this way. No one person can do all things; we have weaknesses, limitations, gaps in our knowledge and understanding. Children need parents. Man needs woman. Mankind, in turn, needs God.
When seeking God's secrets, there is no great need to travel. If you cannot find God in your bedroom, then you will not find Him in Africa, in Europe, over seas or under the earth, or even on the moon. If you cannot see God in yourself, you will not see Him in the world. Do not be consumed by illusions that we create for ourselves, "pretending" to see God in things, forcing ourselves to "know" unity, grabbing onto the concept and beating it into ourselves until we think it is permanent. No idea is permanent. God's secrets are revealed by a union with the Spirit, and this can only be found through prayer, through asking, through a sudden leap of revelation and an awakening of the heart.
But God doesn't resist. God doesn't want to hide. It is we who hide from God. We are the ones who refuse to listen, who refuse to share our lives with God, our troubles, our worries, or even more importantly, the gifts and abundance God has given us. We have been called on to share, to lift each other up; if you haven't noticed, we were designed this way. No one person can do all things; we have weaknesses, limitations, gaps in our knowledge and understanding. Children need parents. Man needs woman. Mankind, in turn, needs God.
When seeking God's secrets, there is no great need to travel. If you cannot find God in your bedroom, then you will not find Him in Africa, in Europe, over seas or under the earth, or even on the moon. If you cannot see God in yourself, you will not see Him in the world. Do not be consumed by illusions that we create for ourselves, "pretending" to see God in things, forcing ourselves to "know" unity, grabbing onto the concept and beating it into ourselves until we think it is permanent. No idea is permanent. God's secrets are revealed by a union with the Spirit, and this can only be found through prayer, through asking, through a sudden leap of revelation and an awakening of the heart.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Romantic Love
Oh believe me, I would grab onto worldly love if I could get my hands on it....
If I could find myself a partner, a mate, a man I could love that somehow echoed the love of the Father, then maybe I wouldn't strive so hard after my own faith. But honestly, when I think of God's purpose for my life and what kind of partner would fit into that picture, I figure it is only someone that God can bring me.
Love is a wonderful distraction. As women, I think we tend to pour all of ourselves into it; culturally, it's what we've been conditioned to do our entire lives. But a large part of these past few years of growth has been the realization of that cultural myth; maybe getting married and having tons of kids isn't what God has planned. Maybe it has nothing to do with it. Maybe there is a reason why so many people like Mother Teresa served God without having a partner in their lives. Am I ready to sacrifice a future family to be a part of God's family?
When thinking these things, I stop to check myself. I don't know anything about the future, and it's senseless to entertain dark thoughts. If I am sacrificing anything for God, it is my whole self, and God will take me exactly to what my heart desires... and what my true heart desires is not worldly love. That is what my "heart of the moment" desires. What my true heart desires... well... to save the world, of course....
God knows everything about our futures. Perhaps I won't live for another three years. Perhaps I will never live to see the effects of my life in the lives of others, or the truth of my faith in the faith of others... God will show me how to wisely use the life I have. I only need to follow.
Following has always been easy.
Please, God. Please take me there.
If I could find myself a partner, a mate, a man I could love that somehow echoed the love of the Father, then maybe I wouldn't strive so hard after my own faith. But honestly, when I think of God's purpose for my life and what kind of partner would fit into that picture, I figure it is only someone that God can bring me.
Love is a wonderful distraction. As women, I think we tend to pour all of ourselves into it; culturally, it's what we've been conditioned to do our entire lives. But a large part of these past few years of growth has been the realization of that cultural myth; maybe getting married and having tons of kids isn't what God has planned. Maybe it has nothing to do with it. Maybe there is a reason why so many people like Mother Teresa served God without having a partner in their lives. Am I ready to sacrifice a future family to be a part of God's family?
When thinking these things, I stop to check myself. I don't know anything about the future, and it's senseless to entertain dark thoughts. If I am sacrificing anything for God, it is my whole self, and God will take me exactly to what my heart desires... and what my true heart desires is not worldly love. That is what my "heart of the moment" desires. What my true heart desires... well... to save the world, of course....
God knows everything about our futures. Perhaps I won't live for another three years. Perhaps I will never live to see the effects of my life in the lives of others, or the truth of my faith in the faith of others... God will show me how to wisely use the life I have. I only need to follow.
Following has always been easy.
Please, God. Please take me there.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)