From The Archives: Everything There Is to be Known.
[First posted May 2006]
[Reposted June 4, 2014 - It's synchronistic that I happened upon this posting which mentions that two of my family members have begun their transition at that time in 2006, and have since crossed over. Now, in 2014, two more family members have begun their transition. The line continues to get shorter. Re-reading this has helped to bring me back to center.]
[Re-Reposted July 26, 2015 - Yet another synchronistic happening, coming across this since those two individuals plus a third family member made their crossing. The thoughts here continue to help me stay centered.]
"Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.”
— Winnie the Pooh
Upon experience of Acceptance-of-Self-Acceptance-of-Source, experiential knowledge arises that the two are not two but one; ad infinitum, experiential knowledge arises that there is only one. Consummatum est contra mundum — it is completed against the world — of the ten thousand things. The world no longer stands alone, in contrast against one's Self.
There is then the experience that there are no true wars or battles, no conflicts of good against evil, for there is only one Source, one Power. The wars and battles are untrue, and therefore insane, for they are the result of a mind in conflict with itself, dependant upon its freely-chosen, freely-accepting beliefs in anything other than itself — thus a Self seemingly divided. Beliefs are, by their very nature, untrue. Unacceptance of Self/Source is a belief in division. The games begin.
Giving to the Creator Source so that the Creator Source may give back to the Self for the sake of consistent, never-ending pleasure seems circular — and so it will seem until something different takes place. The difference is the introduction and acceptance of the idea — or belief— of other. Then the Self experiences a sense of leaving the Source for some "time" and then returning to the Source — over and over, yet another sphere of experience circumscribed around the original circle. Worlds within worlds, cycles within cycles thus turn.
The Ouroborus of cyclicality, the serpent devouring itself by its tail, the constant re-manifesting of self (not Self), is the seemingly eternal return, and perceived as cycles that begin as soon as they end — nascentes morimur — "from the moment we are born, we die." Ouroborous is an archetype — an idealized model — a belief — of patterns, copies, emulations. That is, we return to the familiar, known and assumed, while attempting to resist or flee the unknown and the unassumed.
Observing the conceptualized rendering of the serpent devouring its own tail, one may notice that the serpent is going against the direction the scales are naturally designed to flow — the action is forced and against the natural flow of design. This anti-flow, this swimming upstream to return to one's Source, continually manifests as self-imposed suffering and becomes a chain of linked lifetimes of self-imposed slavery.
Krishnamurti once commented to me —
"Those of us who are still circling in the slave’s walk of hope and are desperate enough to long for something better, a simpler life with less demands and more rewards, are often more aware of ourselves through the medium of our suffering. Those who are, for whatever reasons, more intuitive than the average human being might drift in and out of self awareness through their feelings and dreams. A very small child might be astutely self-aware, but that is quickly and tragically overshadowed and eventually extinguished by the hopes, dreams, and sufferings that are its parents’ legacy, perhaps handed down over many generations, even many centuries, constantly being embellished with a peculiar type of refinement that is both alluring and addicting. If one could be totally and completely aware, totally free of unawareness, there would be nothing to be lost or gained, neither from the past nor from the future."
(Please see Chapter 21 of The Risen for further comments of K. that relate to this present discussion.)
So — what if one ceased this cyclical action against the design — the Design — what would be?
At this point, the fact of time — briefly, however, unfortunately, a bit densely — must be brought in to impress this discussion in such a way that the two-dimensional aspect is carried through the third and into the fourth dimension. Brought into relief like a repoussé design, it will still be deficient as only an impression.
P.D. Ouspensky is an ideal source upon which to draw, from his discussion on the various illusions of dimensional being in Tertium Organum. I see no other way to present this except with the original material and illustration. But because of the complexity of any conversation about dimensions and time, and self-imposed limitations of my own space and time, see the original chapter VI, page 59, in Tertium Organum.
To simplify this and to incorporate the idea of Ouroboros, keep foremost in mind the image of a coiled serpent — which is a spiral — and which is also a key symbol by which the collective Risen authors intended to codify their book, The Risen. To the right is an illustration used by Ouspensky to show the motion of a being, living a two-dimensional, cyclical (circular) existence, through time, while the dimensions of three and four continue on around the being, who is in total unawareness of the other dimensions in which it moves and has its being. The being is actually a point on the line of its existence, and this line is generated as it moves through space. The drawing shows how the line becomes a spiral as the point moves through time.
To return to our sheep — what if one ceased this cyclical action against the design — the Design — what would be?
There would be the serpent — the great symbol of regeneration (generations remanifesting generations) and (mistakenly) immortality — no longer feeding upon itself, no longer existing as a link in the great chain of self-imposed karma. Rather it would be a being living a free existence, swimming at leisure and with pleasure in the great Ocean of Self/Source.
It is obvious to many that what we are witnessing now, in this collective 21st century, is some kind of change in time — a speeding up. Some of us are speeding up the self-swallowing process as a defensive measure brought on by the ego's agenda through its fear of death. Others have managed to extricate their asses from their heads but are instead attempting to swallow their head with their own head — insanity or mental dis-ease and mental illnesses now increasingly abound and also motivated by fear. Either experience is a spiraling into a smaller and smaller point, driven by the non-conscious dreaming that all is pointless.
This entire discussion is actually for the sake of leading to some brief mention of current circumstances in my life — namely, transitional circumstances. Two intimate family members have begun their transition — one slowly with a prognosis of a few years, and the other not slowly, with a prognosis of several months. Another has begun transition in the form of severe mental illness at a very young age. My family, as I've known it, has always been incalculably enormous. Every grandparent, aunt and uncle, with the exception of one aunt, has had anywhere from no less than 7 to as much as 14 children — including my own parents. And so my childhood was a veritable Disneyland of never-ending stories and adventures, worlds within worlds, never lacking for companionship, dreams, crimes and drama.
Suddenly, everyone is gone or going. More are there; less are here. Somehow the family has shrunk to a very few individuals. Young and old have transitioned quickly in the past few years, through age, illness, substance abuse, suicide — yet there has always seemed to be such a large community of people that it was fairly easy to adapt to the changes in natural ways, probably because of a collective understanding of transition as informed by spiritualism. Each family group has had its medium or two every generation or so, as well as many highly sensitive psychics, some acknowledged, some not. Many of those there are making efforts to travel here, with messages of love and support. The smell of my grandmother's face powder continues to follow me around and clings to me like lilacs on a spring night.
What I'm experiencing is a new edge for me, the realization that I am the older generation now. I'm excited, four years old again, waiting for Santa to come, just for me.
Each person who leaves shortens the line in which I stand as I near the crossing over of my own transition. Rather like a strange cosmic game of chess where one move affects the entire game, inexorably bringing the game to some kind of end. I can feel this movement, and I can feel some part of me wanting to respond by swallowing my tail, and then my head. This feeling become more available to my awareness by selfless observation — that is, observation of the ego-self by Self, which is the felt presence of I AM, or Source. This feeling seems to be attempting to lead me into responses/reactions which would manifest in many seemingly divergent ways, depending on which belief system to which I'm currently enslaved, if any. But ultimately this feeling would lead me back into the cycle of birth and death. And here, I will present these assumed events as defined by quotes: "birth" and "death." The feeling is attempting to divide the primal Oneness into twoness. It wants to divide the self and then pit the results against one another, to begin a new game when the old one is over. But the new game will just be the same game.
The serpent uncoupled from itself and released into the cosmos can also take on another form — that of an eternal river. This river flows with uncountable rhythms of living yet to be experienced. It is upon the banks of this river we all potentially will stand, each waiting for our turn to perhaps quietly launch our little boat, or to jump in, with cries of delight into its life-giving waters, forever floating, laughing, resting and playing as we journey to new geographies, new worlds, new relationships — to everything that there is to be known.
[Reposted June 4, 2014 - It's synchronistic that I happened upon this posting which mentions that two of my family members have begun their transition at that time in 2006, and have since crossed over. Now, in 2014, two more family members have begun their transition. The line continues to get shorter. Re-reading this has helped to bring me back to center.]
[Re-Reposted July 26, 2015 - Yet another synchronistic happening, coming across this since those two individuals plus a third family member made their crossing. The thoughts here continue to help me stay centered.]
"Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.”
— Winnie the Pooh
Upon experience of Acceptance-of-Self-Acceptance-of-Source, experiential knowledge arises that the two are not two but one; ad infinitum, experiential knowledge arises that there is only one. Consummatum est contra mundum — it is completed against the world — of the ten thousand things. The world no longer stands alone, in contrast against one's Self.
There is then the experience that there are no true wars or battles, no conflicts of good against evil, for there is only one Source, one Power. The wars and battles are untrue, and therefore insane, for they are the result of a mind in conflict with itself, dependant upon its freely-chosen, freely-accepting beliefs in anything other than itself — thus a Self seemingly divided. Beliefs are, by their very nature, untrue. Unacceptance of Self/Source is a belief in division. The games begin.
Giving to the Creator Source so that the Creator Source may give back to the Self for the sake of consistent, never-ending pleasure seems circular — and so it will seem until something different takes place. The difference is the introduction and acceptance of the idea — or belief— of other. Then the Self experiences a sense of leaving the Source for some "time" and then returning to the Source — over and over, yet another sphere of experience circumscribed around the original circle. Worlds within worlds, cycles within cycles thus turn.
The Ouroborus of cyclicality, the serpent devouring itself by its tail, the constant re-manifesting of self (not Self), is the seemingly eternal return, and perceived as cycles that begin as soon as they end — nascentes morimur — "from the moment we are born, we die." Ouroborous is an archetype — an idealized model — a belief — of patterns, copies, emulations. That is, we return to the familiar, known and assumed, while attempting to resist or flee the unknown and the unassumed.
Observing the conceptualized rendering of the serpent devouring its own tail, one may notice that the serpent is going against the direction the scales are naturally designed to flow — the action is forced and against the natural flow of design. This anti-flow, this swimming upstream to return to one's Source, continually manifests as self-imposed suffering and becomes a chain of linked lifetimes of self-imposed slavery.
Krishnamurti once commented to me —
"Those of us who are still circling in the slave’s walk of hope and are desperate enough to long for something better, a simpler life with less demands and more rewards, are often more aware of ourselves through the medium of our suffering. Those who are, for whatever reasons, more intuitive than the average human being might drift in and out of self awareness through their feelings and dreams. A very small child might be astutely self-aware, but that is quickly and tragically overshadowed and eventually extinguished by the hopes, dreams, and sufferings that are its parents’ legacy, perhaps handed down over many generations, even many centuries, constantly being embellished with a peculiar type of refinement that is both alluring and addicting. If one could be totally and completely aware, totally free of unawareness, there would be nothing to be lost or gained, neither from the past nor from the future."
(Please see Chapter 21 of The Risen for further comments of K. that relate to this present discussion.)
So — what if one ceased this cyclical action against the design — the Design — what would be?
At this point, the fact of time — briefly, however, unfortunately, a bit densely — must be brought in to impress this discussion in such a way that the two-dimensional aspect is carried through the third and into the fourth dimension. Brought into relief like a repoussé design, it will still be deficient as only an impression.
P.D. Ouspensky is an ideal source upon which to draw, from his discussion on the various illusions of dimensional being in Tertium Organum. I see no other way to present this except with the original material and illustration. But because of the complexity of any conversation about dimensions and time, and self-imposed limitations of my own space and time, see the original chapter VI, page 59, in Tertium Organum.
To simplify this and to incorporate the idea of Ouroboros, keep foremost in mind the image of a coiled serpent — which is a spiral — and which is also a key symbol by which the collective Risen authors intended to codify their book, The Risen. To the right is an illustration used by Ouspensky to show the motion of a being, living a two-dimensional, cyclical (circular) existence, through time, while the dimensions of three and four continue on around the being, who is in total unawareness of the other dimensions in which it moves and has its being. The being is actually a point on the line of its existence, and this line is generated as it moves through space. The drawing shows how the line becomes a spiral as the point moves through time.
To return to our sheep — what if one ceased this cyclical action against the design — the Design — what would be?
There would be the serpent — the great symbol of regeneration (generations remanifesting generations) and (mistakenly) immortality — no longer feeding upon itself, no longer existing as a link in the great chain of self-imposed karma. Rather it would be a being living a free existence, swimming at leisure and with pleasure in the great Ocean of Self/Source.
It is obvious to many that what we are witnessing now, in this collective 21st century, is some kind of change in time — a speeding up. Some of us are speeding up the self-swallowing process as a defensive measure brought on by the ego's agenda through its fear of death. Others have managed to extricate their asses from their heads but are instead attempting to swallow their head with their own head — insanity or mental dis-ease and mental illnesses now increasingly abound and also motivated by fear. Either experience is a spiraling into a smaller and smaller point, driven by the non-conscious dreaming that all is pointless.
This entire discussion is actually for the sake of leading to some brief mention of current circumstances in my life — namely, transitional circumstances. Two intimate family members have begun their transition — one slowly with a prognosis of a few years, and the other not slowly, with a prognosis of several months. Another has begun transition in the form of severe mental illness at a very young age. My family, as I've known it, has always been incalculably enormous. Every grandparent, aunt and uncle, with the exception of one aunt, has had anywhere from no less than 7 to as much as 14 children — including my own parents. And so my childhood was a veritable Disneyland of never-ending stories and adventures, worlds within worlds, never lacking for companionship, dreams, crimes and drama.
Suddenly, everyone is gone or going. More are there; less are here. Somehow the family has shrunk to a very few individuals. Young and old have transitioned quickly in the past few years, through age, illness, substance abuse, suicide — yet there has always seemed to be such a large community of people that it was fairly easy to adapt to the changes in natural ways, probably because of a collective understanding of transition as informed by spiritualism. Each family group has had its medium or two every generation or so, as well as many highly sensitive psychics, some acknowledged, some not. Many of those there are making efforts to travel here, with messages of love and support. The smell of my grandmother's face powder continues to follow me around and clings to me like lilacs on a spring night.
What I'm experiencing is a new edge for me, the realization that I am the older generation now. I'm excited, four years old again, waiting for Santa to come, just for me.
Each person who leaves shortens the line in which I stand as I near the crossing over of my own transition. Rather like a strange cosmic game of chess where one move affects the entire game, inexorably bringing the game to some kind of end. I can feel this movement, and I can feel some part of me wanting to respond by swallowing my tail, and then my head. This feeling become more available to my awareness by selfless observation — that is, observation of the ego-self by Self, which is the felt presence of I AM, or Source. This feeling seems to be attempting to lead me into responses/reactions which would manifest in many seemingly divergent ways, depending on which belief system to which I'm currently enslaved, if any. But ultimately this feeling would lead me back into the cycle of birth and death. And here, I will present these assumed events as defined by quotes: "birth" and "death." The feeling is attempting to divide the primal Oneness into twoness. It wants to divide the self and then pit the results against one another, to begin a new game when the old one is over. But the new game will just be the same game.
The serpent uncoupled from itself and released into the cosmos can also take on another form — that of an eternal river. This river flows with uncountable rhythms of living yet to be experienced. It is upon the banks of this river we all potentially will stand, each waiting for our turn to perhaps quietly launch our little boat, or to jump in, with cries of delight into its life-giving waters, forever floating, laughing, resting and playing as we journey to new geographies, new worlds, new relationships — to everything that there is to be known.
posted by August Goforth @ 10:22
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