Walking down Cecil Street on my way to work this morning, my mind is scattered like old newspapers in the November wind. I am watching an old black and white movie playing somewhere behind my eyes. I am not there to witness anything; the sparkling diamonds in the street, the naked trees reaching to the sky like a prayer, or to hear the soft voices of the whispering wind. Still asleep, I spill out over the familiar neighborhood, forgetting who and where I am. Then, at the corner at the top of the street, suddenly unannounced, like a surprise phone call from my mother, there is a subtle shift in my awareness. It’s feels like a door that has opened slightly, revealing a small strand of light. Magically, an inner space appears. From here, I watch thoughts roar past and, paying no attention to them, they dissolve into a white canvas.

“In the world but not of it,” I think to myself and suddenly everything disappears, like a drunken magician has pulled away the tablecloth and all the dishes have come crashing onto the floor.

I spend the majority of my life being continually swept along by the natural current of both outer and inner circumstances. I call this my life. If I am lucky enough, I remember to make an effort to go against this current. As the river of life rushes past, taking me along with it, I try to grab onto a branch to avoid being swept out to sea. For a moment I realize that I am not just this whirling world of mind. There is something else here and maybe, for a few seconds, I am not entirely lost.

All spiritual teachings speak of an inner quiet or silence. How can I simply observe whatever is taking place in and around me without manipulating anything. Can I find a place in myself from where I am able to observe from, like Christopher Isherwood said when he describes that he is, “a camera with its shutter open, quite passive, recording, not thinking.”

I look at the sky and ask, “Who am I?” If I am sincere with myself I realize that I haven’t got the foggiest notion. Sure, I have a lot of ideas about who am I am, but these are just a collection of old dusty photo albums and scratched vinyl that I have pillaged from garage sales over the years. It appears that I consist of a cyclone of thoughts and feelings, all vowing for supremacy over the other. If I am not presiding over this chaos by observing it, I am sold to the highest bidder, or the one who makes the most noise. In my case, it is usually the thoughts that are victorious. It could be emotional restlessness or a thought about my amazing awesomeness. Whatever it is, I am fooled into believing that is what I am. Continually I am taken by this process and repeatedly I fall asleep, drugged like an opium addict.

I search for an attention that can illuminate this mad house. A certain force that doesn’t waver, even when I am confronted with all the ugly and unbecoming parts of myself, or the predictable reactions from glimpsing something that doesn’t quite fit into the beautiful stories I have created. I need to embrace those to, like the second Bodhisattva Vow, “Delusions are endless; we vow to cut through them all.”

I see that I take in the raw experience of life in and around me and then I create a commentary or a story out of it. The next things that happens is a reaction to that, where I say to myself, “I shouldn’t do this,” or “I shouldn’t feel this way.” This is my situation. I am all in pieces and it is this continual functioning that keeps me from experiencing each precious moment of my life. It’s like living in a fog that filters my real life through a mechanism that spins out stories and dreams. These fictions keep on rolling out and repeating themselves of who I am and who others people are. It’s a poor substitute for a real life that penetrates right into the bones.

Would it be possible to have an inner quality, or a force that is strong enough to stay with whatever is taking place — quietly watching?

There is an idea in the Gurdjieff tradition and Zen as well that there are two worlds or two pools. The first is the world of our functioning which includes the ordinary mind with all of its commentaries, opinions and ideas as well as the emotions that move through us like the weather. This is the one I usually find myself in. The second world is completely different. It utilizes different energies and is composed of an entirely different order. This second word is always beckoning to us, but it is hidden behind the veil of the first world. Siddartha describes this as “a stillness and sanctuary to which you can retreat at any time and be yourself.”

So where am I now? Do I have a wish to be? How do I experience this wish? Practically speaking, it is neither this nor that. How can I gather all that I am into this very moment? Can I make space for another level to appear? A level that is not something I have, but rather something that I am in, like a state of grace.

(Photo: Harriet Hoctor as human question mark, 1920’s – from Where is My Mind)

“We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.”
— Kenji Miyazawa

A quiet autumn morning shakes off the dust
of an angry September.
We are sunk deep into October,
shipwrecked, sullen and clothed
in some deep impenetrable mystery.

The moon is wild and unknown.
It follows us everywhere.
The clocks are broken.

We feel insignificant and vaporous.
We could just vanish.
At first we would tremble like leaves,
then there would be nothing left
but a small wind gathering the dust of ourselves.

There is no time anymore.
The day is done.
I lie back and watch the curtains
lift and fall like someone breathing.

(Photo: Quiet Time)

“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”

— T.S. Eliot, from “Little Gidding,”
Photo scanned by Little Gold Poppy

“To live in this world, you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.”

— Mary Oliver

(Image: Stanslaw Maslowski (1853-1926), Moonrise, 1884)

For another wonderful poem married to this image see Astroinquiry.

“Astonishing. Getting older and older, I still stand here at this window, watching as if never having watched anything like it before – the wrens, juncos, and purple finches picking the seeds strewn on the pile of frozen snow. Through my breath condensing into fog on the cold window pane, I still see bare branches chasing their shadows in the icy wind, black threads of water crinkling through fissures in the frozen river. I am aware that what I am seeing is no more, no less than the great Mystery, that of being here at all, that of seeing it – as from the other side of a mirror – snow, birds, my breath still condensing, that breath that started so long ago as my first cry.”

— Frederick Franck, from “Behind the Mask,” The Stranger, Parabola Magazine 1995

Frederick Franck – Social Mask
“the human face closed off”

Frederick Franck – Human Face
“open, revealing the True Self”

(Photos by John Lewis Stage from Spirituality & Practice)

These Ten Commandments on seeing/drawing were revealed to me on a mountain, but also in a meadow, on a beach and even in the subway.  For their revelation did not come all at once, but in installments, as it were, over the years, and always while I was busy drawing, and invariably on holy ground.  But that may be because, while drawing, all ground is holy: unseparated from the Whole.

1.  You shall draw everything and every day

2.  You shall not wait for inspiration, for it comes not while you wait but while you work

3.  You shall forget all you think you know and, even more, all you have been taught

4.  You shall not adore your good drawings and promptly forget your bad ones

5.  You shall not draw with exhibitions in mind, nor to please any critic but yourself

6.  You shall trust none but your own eye, and make your hand follow it

7.  You shall consider the mouse you draw as more important than the contents of all the museums in the world, for

8.  You shall love the ten thousand things with all your heart and a blade of grass as yourself

9. Let each drawing be your first:  A celebration of the eye awakened

10.  You shall not worry about “being of your time”, for you are your time

And it is brief

— Frederick Franck

The life absolute from which has sprung all that is felt, seen and perceived, and into which all again merges in time, is a silent, motionless and eternal life which among Sufis is called Dhat (zat). Every motion that springs forth from this silent life is a vibration and a creator of vibrations. Within one vibration are created many vibrations.

As motion causes motion so the silent life becomes active in a certain part, and creates every moment more and more activity, losing thereby the peace of the original silent life. It is the grade of activity of these vibrations that accounts for the various planes of existence. These planes are imagined to differ from one another, but in reality they cannot be entirely detached and made separate from one another. The activity of vibrations makes them grosser, and thus the earth is born of the heavens.

The mineral, vegetable, animal and human kingdoms are the gradual changes of vibrations, and the vibrations of each plane differ from one another in their weight, breadth, length, color, effect, sound and rhythm.

Man is not only formed of vibrations, but he lives and moves in them: they surround him as the fish is surrounded by water, and he contains them within him as the tank contains water. His different moods, inclinations, affairs, successes and failures, and all the conditions of life depend upon a certain activity of vibrations, whether these be thoughts, emotions or feelings. It is the direction of the activity of vibrations that accounts for the variety of things and beings. This vibratory activity is the basis of sensation and the source of all pleasure and pain; its cessation is the opposite of sensation. All sensations are caused by a certain grade of activity of vibration.

There are two aspects of vibrations, fine and gross, both containing varied degrees. Some are perceived by the soul, some by the mind, and some by the eyes. What the soul perceives are the vibrations of the feelings; what the mind conceives are the vibrations of the thoughts; what the eyes see are the vibrations solidified from their ethereal state and turned into atoms which appear in the physical world, constituting the elements ether, air, fire, water and earth. The finest vibrations are imperceptible even to the soul. The soul itself is formed of these vibrations; it is their activity which makes it conscious.

Creation begins with the activity of consciousness, which may be called vibration, and every vibration starting from its original source is the same, differing only in its tone and rhythm caused by a greater or lesser degree of force behind it. On the plane of sound vibration causes diversity of tone, and in the world of atoms diversity of colo. It is by massing together that the vibrations become audible, but at each step towards the surface they multiply and, as they advance, they materialize.

Sound gives to the consciousness an evidence of its existence, although it is in fact the active part of consciousness itself which turns into sound. The knower, so to speak, becomes known to himself; in other words the consciousness bears witness to its own voice. It is therefore that sound appeals to man. All things being derived from and formed of vibrations have sound hidden within them, as fire is hidden in flint. And each atom of the universe confesses by its tone: ‘My sole origin is sound’. If any solid or sonorous body is struck it will answer back: ‘I am sound’.

Sound has its birth, death, sex, form, planet, god, color, childhood, youth and age. But that volume of sound which is in the abstract – beyond the sphere of the concrete – is the origin and basis of all sound.

Both sound and color make their effect on the human soul according to the law of harmony: to a fine soul color appeals, and to a still finer soul sound. Tone has either a warm or a cold effect, according to its element, since all elements are made of different degrees of vibrations. Therefore sound can produce an agreeable or a disagreeable effect upon man’s mind and body, and has its healing effect in the absence of herbs and drugs – which also have their origin in vibrations.

Manifestations being formed of vibrations, the planets are the primal manifestations, each planet having its peculiar tone; therefore every note represents one planet. Every individual therefore has a note peculiar to himself which is according to his birth planet. For this reason a certain tone appeals to a particular person according to the grade of his evolution.

Every element has a sound peculiar to itself. In the finer elements the circle of sound expands, and in the grosser elements it narrows. It is therefore distinct in the former and indistinct in the latter.

The earth has various aspects of beauty as well as of variety in its sound. Its pitch is on the surface, its form is crescent-like, and its color is yellow. The sound of the earth is dim and dull, and produces a thrill, activity and movement in the body. All instruments of wire and gut, as well as the instruments of percussion – such as the drum, cymbals, etc. – represent the sound of earth.

The sound of water is deep, its form is serpent-like, its color green, and it is best heard in the roaring of the sea. The sound of running water, of mountain rills, the drizzling and pattering of rain, the sound of water running from a pitcher into a jar, from a pipe into a tub, from a bottle into a glass – all have a smooth and lively effect, and a tendency to produce imagination, whim, dream, affection and emotion. The instrument called jalatarang is an arrangement of china bowls or glasses graduated in size and filled with water in proportion to the desired scale: more water lowers the tone, and less raises it. These instruments have a touching effect upon the emotions of the heart.

The sound of fire is high-pitched, its form is curled, and its color red. It is heard in the falling of the thunderbolt and in a volcanic eruption, in the sound of a fire when blazing, in the noise of squibs, crackers, rifles, guns and cannons. All these have a tendency to produce fear.

The sound of air is wavering, its form zigzag, and its color blue. Its voice is heard in storms, when the wind blows, and in the whisper of the morning breeze. Its effect is breaking, sweeping and piercing. The sound of air finds expression in all wind instruments made of wood, brass and bamboo. It has a tendency to kindle the fire of the heart, as Rumi writes in his Mathnavi about the flute. Krishna is always portrayed in Indian art with a flute. The air sound overpowers all other sounds, for it is living, and in every aspect its influence produces ecstasy.

The sound of ether is self-contained, and it holds all forms and colors. It is the base of all sounds, and is the undertone which is ever continuous. Its instrument is the human body, because it can be audible through it. Although it is all pervading, yet it is unheard. It manifests to man as he purifies his body from material properties. The body can become its proper instrument when the space within is opened, when all the tubes and veins in it are free. Then the sound which exists eternally in space becomes manifest inwardly also. Ecstasy, illumination, restfulness, fearlessness, rapture, joy and revelation are the effects of this sound. To some it manifests of itself, to others when they are in a negative state caused by weakness of the body or mind; to neither of these is it a benefit, but on the other hand it causes them to become abnormal. This sound only elevates those who open themselves to it by the sacred practices known to the mystics.

The sound of earth and water commingled has a tenderness and delicacy. The sound of earth and fire produces harshness. The sound of earth and air has strength and power. The sound of water and fire has a lively and animating effect. The sound of water with ether has a soothing and comforting effect. The sound of fire and air has a terrifying and fearsome effect. The sound of fire with ether has a breaking and freeing effect. The sound of air with ether produces calm and peace.

— Hazrat Inayat Khan, “The Mysticism of Sound,” the full text can be found here.
Image: Gustav Klimt, “Music,” 1885.

The hay bales on the hill
stand like soft soldiers,
firm in their presence.

(Photo: Dom W – Hay Bales at Sunset)