From The Archives: Cristes Mæsse

[First posted 12/24/10 - a reader recently wrote about finding it "evocative" . . . the summer, as least in this part of the world, is past its zenith, and before we know it, we will be crossing the threshold of a new year. Perhaps this previous post can continue to offer some reflection of who and where we are, in this moment.]

When the tips of the pines
Touch the twinkling stars
On the cold, crisp nights of December,
May your blessings be more
Than you've ever hoped for,
And your Christmas a warmth to remember.

~ a poem on a card sent by Aunt Doris ~

For some reason, as I began cooking this morning of Christmas Day Eve, I was impressed to put on a CD of Mozart's Requiem Mass in D Minor – a strange kind of music for Noël . . . nonetheless, it affects me deeply, evoking complex emotions, all tinged with sadness.

The turnips are peeled and roasting – my contribution towards tomorrow's cozy gathering of friends, coming together to celebrate many things – consciously aware living, loving, and sobriety. Together, we manifest and share a "field of gratitude" that spontaneously arises from our gathering together.

In The Risen, we explore the idea of "fields" – realities that interpenetrate our material one, and which we often can sense emotionally, psychologically, spiritually and even physically. This idea is practically no longer abstract, but is quickly becoming a realized fact by primarily quantum scientists, many inspired by theoretical biologist Rupert Sheldrake's understanding that there is no "inside" or "outside" to one's mind. It is further noted in The Risen:

"Sheldrake suggests that memory is not stored in the brain, which is a kind of tuning system, rather than a device for storing memories. Our brain resonates within a morphic or morphogenic field. This resonance is a form-shaping field, an invisible organization structure wherein all experiential information is recorded and stored.
"Morphogenic fields are patterns that structure our reality. Older, primal societies have been well aware that the forms of our experiences are shaped by something greater than us, and of which we are simultaneously a part. Modern, 'civilized' societies have contracted the mind into the idea that the mind exists only within the confines of our physical skulls."

Sheldrake would likely agree with the idea of the spirit of a holiday—that it’s a morphic field containing the memories and rituals associated with that holiday.

Viewed from this perspective, the spirit within a human being resonates from within the larger spiritual morphogenic field. From their perspective, the Risen suggest that the so-called boundaries of any field are arbitrary and subject to one’s perceptual awareness, meaning that the fields are infinite in space and time. Thus, Risen fields interpenetrate non-Risen fields, which also interpenetrate." (pp. 137-138)

In 21st century terms, this is "non-locality". Non-locality is one of several important principles of quantum physics, and has given rise to the concept of nonlocal space, explained by Pim van Lommel, MD as “ … a multidimensional space, with nothing but possibilities … and without certainties, without matter, and without a role for time and distance … (and) represents a hidden reality that, at the quantum level, exerts a continuous influence on our physical world, which is the complement of nonlocal space."  While interpenetrating the local consciousness of the physical brain, non-local consciousness expands unbounded beyond it, and is believed by many to support perceptual reality. This concept underlies theories about after-life survival, remote viewing, and other out-of-body experiences. (From his book, Consciousness Beyond Life: The Science of the Near-Death Experience, pp. 227-28) [Highly recommended.]

 Mozart claimed that he heard the music in his head and that all he had to do was transcribe it; he did this in near-perfect notation in a very brief window of time. Van Lommel suggests that such creativity, inspiration, and sudden scientific insight might be explained by unconscious, or even conscious contact with non-local consciousness. His book explores in great detail how near-death experiences bring the person into contact with other fields of consciousness – other worlds – in this way.

It's clear to me that I'm experiencing "fields within fields" – or worlds within worlds, as the Risen say. Obviously I'm not in the land of sleigh bells and candy canes, but somewhere in the Deep. I wonder what is is that  I'm accessing in the field of Mozart's Requiem. As I ponder more I begin to realize that there is sadness is the memory of the story of a little baby who will grow up, and as a young man,  "die" a seemingly tragic, lonely death, abandoned by the world he loved so much; I think of his mother as well. Mozart was dying as he struggled to finish this piece, and transitioned before it could be completed. He captured these complex ego-mind feelings of  the direct experience of his own transition, along with the "tragedy and loss" that are believed to be inseparable by death. Surrounding Requiem is much controversy and confusion, unanswered questions and myth. While the story of the man who was also a Christ clearly embodies the almost inconceivable news that there is no death, only more life, much myth and confusion surround the drama as well.

Many fields of spirituality and religion converge around this time of the year, a few according to the light reaching the earth from the sun, and others because someone once did or said something that continues to resonate with millions of still earth-bound souls. One funny question that I get asked often is about my "religion": "Are you Christian? Jewish? Buddhist? Pagan? Democrat? Vegetarian?"  My answer has always been the same: "I don't remember." There is the potential for magic and miracles of wonder in them all. Krishnamurti once said,  "Religion is the frozen thought of man out of which they build temples." He also said, "I maintain that Truth is a pathless land, and you cannot approach it by any path whatsoever, by any religion, by any sect."

The Requiem's saddening minor chords of the last movement of the sequence, the Lacrimosa, breaks off after only eight bars, unfinished. One can only wonder if Mozart was simultaneously having near-death experiences as he struggled to complete his mission. He transitioned on December 5, 1791. Perhaps I'm accessing something of his world, his field, his non-locality while listening to his final offering to our terrestrial world. The lovely little Christmas card from my Aunt Doris also brings me in contact with some kind of field. Now in her upper-eighties, she is one of the few remaining, older relatives still on the earth (once there were so very many!) There is, at first, sadness with this thought, but if I stay with the sadness, while letting the ego-mental thinking fade away, I'm brought to an awakened awareness of Authentic Self, and then through some sort of door, an entryway into a deeper aspect of another reality, and more light begins to shine through what I first perceived as shadow. This is the door to the Risen lands, and not only light, but laughter and joy beam forth from it, and suddenly I begin to understand the meaning of Cristes mæsse, which means literally, "the anointed one's mission." We all have this mission, as anointed with spirit by Creator Source, to find the door to Home, for "blessings more than we ever hoped for."

Tim made his transition on a Christmas Eve, falling deeply asleep here and slowly awakening there. Although my mental grief about it has been worked through over the years, and it seems nothing more than the dream it was, my body still remembers in its own way, and accesses biological fields that are inherently part of a terrestrial existence. So a little sadness is there too, wistfulness, really, which also becomes a door to where Tim actually is now, the present, which is all we every really have.