Mysticism,
Compassion and Silence
12/15/7
In the chapter “Angels and
Demons” in my book Heart Wide Open, I
briefly discuss the topic of “Mysticism” as defined in the Illuminati book
called Neo-Tech.
“Just wait a minute—let me go on.” I continued reading from the large, black, Neo-Tech volume.
“What connects us with one another, our
world, and the universe? What’s the
‘stuff’ that carries our prayers beyond our bodies and holds the world
together?” The abbot looked directly at
me as our translator echoed my question in Tibetan.
Instinctively, I glanced to the guide, who
was our go-between for the entire conversation.
I wasn’t prepared for the translation that I heard coming back to me.
“Compassion,” he said. “The geshe (great
teacher) says that compassion is what connects us.”
“How can that be?” I asked, looking for
clarity in what I was hearing. “Is he
describing compassion as a force of nature or as an emotional experience?” Suddenly, an animated exchange broke out as
the translator put my question to the abbot.
“Compassion is what connects all things”
was his final answer. And that was
it! Following nearly ten minutes of
intensive dialogue involving the deepest elements of Tibetan Buddhism, all I
got to hear was those six words!
A few
days later Gregg had the opportunity to ask another Tibetan monk the same
question.
Just as I’d asked the abbot only days before, I posed the
same question (through the translator) to the monk: “Is compassion a force of
creation, or is it an experience?” His
eyes turned to the place on the ceiling where I’d been looking only seconds
before, taking a deep sigh, he thought for a moment, collecting the wisdom of
what he’d learned since entering the monasteries at the age of eight. (He appeared to be in his mid-20s now.) Suddenly, he lowered his eyes, looking at me
as he responded. The answer was short,
powerful, and made tremendous sense. “It
is both,” were the words that came back to me from the monk. “Compassion is both a force in the universe as well as a human experience.”
After hearing Gregg Braden speak
about this same topic during his weekend seminar last month, I was increasingly
curious about some of the deeper meanings of compassion since compassion is
such a powerful force and profound
experience. Again, God supplied me with
the answers to some of my deeper inquiries through another dynamic author,
Matthew Fox in his book, The Coming of
the Cosmic Christ. I’d like to share
those with you.
The Hebrew word for compassion is derived
from the word for womb. Womb love,
mother love, creative love are all part of the power we know as compassion. It is here that Jesus’ teaching to be
“compassionate as your Creator in heaven is compassionate” (Luke, 6:36) is
explicitly a maternal revelation of divinity.
Jesus seized elements in his Jewish tradition that were most
maternal—the wisdom sayings and the call to compassion. This invitation to divine motherhood
seriously challenged the religious system of his day. The crucifixion of Jesus was the logical
result of his frontal assault on patriarchy…There is a promise of maternal eros
in all this—the eros of food and drink, of common banqueting, and of returning
to a lost mother love—that of divinity itself…
Religion and culture that represses and
distorts the maternal will also repress the ancient tradition of God as Mother
and of the goddess in every person.
Jesus came to restore that truth to the patriarchal and militaristic
culture of his day. He also came to
awaken the creativity in every person, i.e., every mother, male as well as
female…
True redemption is always about
compassion—an awakening of passion with God and all God’s creation and
children, especially the suffering ones.
Compassion is not about pity or feeling sorry for others. It is born of shared interdependence, an
intuition of and sense of awe for the wondrous fact that we all live and swim
in one primordial divine womb, we live in fetal waters of cosmic grace! Not only must we celebrate this, but we must
struggle for those who are drowning in our midst because they are so deeply
wounded by poverty of soul, body, or both.
The mark of the true Church, the believing
Church, will always be as Jesus said it ought to be; wherever compassion is
found. In the future it will be
compassion making—celebrating, healing, justice making—the living out of shared
interdependence that will define the Church and its leadership. For it is there that royal personhood is
celebrated and the kingdom/queendom of God that Jesus promised was already
among us…
Compassion is another word for the unitive
experience and therefore another name for mysticism. Compassion is the “keen awareness of the
interdependence of all living things which are all part of one another and
involved in one another”…In truth, compassion is the very origin and goal—as
well as the process—of creation mysticism.
“The first outburst of everything God does,” Meister Eckhart says, “is
compassion.” This means that all
creatures as children of God hold compassion in common. Compassion is our universal heritage, our
God-origin and our God-destiny.
Compassion unites us, it forms the common “field” that all creatures
share.
Compassion is the thrust of Jesus’ message
about the kingdom and about our role in it.
The summary to his Sermon on the Mount as presented in Luke’s Gospel is,
“be you compassionate as your Creator in heaven is compassionate.”
If compassion is both a force
in the universe and a human
experience—isn’t that a perfect description of “God? Could it be that John the Beloved’s
definition—God is love—be the simplest and most succinct definition
possible? Often, when we see God as
being outside of ourselves, we question whether or not God truly is love and loves us. But it seems that when we are in “sinc” with
God, or are completely surrendered to his/her will, then life seems to fall
into perfect harmony. It’s as if God, or
the Holy Spirit, or the-spirit-that-moves-in-all things has a “prime directive”
and that is to enfold us in the arms of holy, compassionate love.
There is a belief system
heralded by the Mormon Church which I whole-heartedly embraced—and still
do. It is the beautiful concept that
“Families are Forever.” This, in
essence, is their impetus for building temples and doing temple work. Whether or not these “sealings in the temple
for time and all eternity” are efficacious after we die (perhaps belief makes
it so) the whole idea that we are sealed to those we love forever is a compelling concept.
I truly believe that a “sealing of one heart to another heart” happens
each time we feel compassion for one another and see each other as “brothers
and sisters,” “sons and daughters,” “mothers and fathers” and intimate
lovers. Could this “sealing or binding
of each other’s hearts to one another” happen before we die rather then waiting until afterwards? Could this truly
be the compassion that could bring about the Kingdom of God on Earth?
In the first chapter of my
book, Becoming One—The Journey Forward to
God, I explain this concept of what some have described as “Oneness.”
In the beginning we were all one. That’s right, all of us were together—you and
me; grandpa and grandma; Uncle Arthur and Aunt Hazel; your neighbor, Burt; the
guy down the street who you can never remember his name; the bum on the corner
who asked you for a hand-out yesterday.
We were all there together in one vast
exquisite oneness we call heaven or “God.”
(Yes, even God was there, whatever you conceive him/her to be.) And Mary, Jesus Christ, Adam, Eve, Noah,
Abraham, Sarah, Enoch, etc.—all the big league heavy-hitters that helped to
make up what the earth is today. We were
all together in the beginning like myriad pieces in one vast gigantic jigsaw
puzzle. The only thing different about
what it was like then and what it is like now is that we were all put together
in the right places (integrated, so to speak) so that the picture was perfect
and we all knew who we were and where we belonged.
But as all jigsaw puzzles go, we were taken
apart, piece by piece, and thrown down to this planet we call Earth to try and
figure out just how that perfect picture we call “heaven” looked like and just
how our piece of the puzzle fit in.
You see, we lost our recollection of the
big picture, and sometimes we forget exactly how we fit into that picture to
make it whole or complete. Now it’s our
job to remember how we fit in so that we can find our way back to that oneness
known as God. That’s what we call
“re-membering.”
Sometimes it takes a dramatic
shift of consciousness or an “awakening” before we “remember who we are.” Kind of like Neo in “The Matrix” after he’d
taken the “red pill.” But there are
other kinder ways of waking up and sometimes that means unplugging from the
artificial “Matrix” and plugging into the “Divine Matrix.”
When I was living up in the
backwoods of Montana for nearly 15 years, it was easy for me to live a natural
lifestyle of “what is real.” Everything
around me was real—the mountains, the trees, the plants, the animals, the
water, the air—all these things validated the reality of God—his love and
perfect grace for me. Even so, there
were times when I needed to go inside for some deep introspection. I would often stay up at night, after a busy
day of housekeeping, childcare and homeschooling, take out my spinning wheel
and the rollags of wool I’d carded, and spin by the light of a kerosene
lamp. It was like a silent meditation
for me and it made me feel so connected with source. It was at these times I became the most open
and creative. I was often inspired to
write poetry and the following poem is a tribute to my time spinning at my
spinning wheel.
Ode
to My Spinning Wheel
When
the world becomes too much for me…
I come
to you.
And you
take me on a long, thin, strand
To
another land…
Where
dreams come true.
Where
clouds
Like
unspun cotton lay,
Just
grab ahold…
And
spin away.
To
where the broad
And
crooked paths we trod,
Spin to
straight and narrow ones…
Leading
back to God.
Sometimes it’s good to take a
“time-out” when life becomes too much for us.
That’s why winter is such a good time to follow what nature does—die to
oneself and go inward. In the silence of
deep introspection, we can truly “wake up” to the true mystic within us. To quote Matthew Fox once again:
The mystic approaches reality from a
“both/and” rather than an “either/or” perspective. While the mystic is passionate about imaging
and sensitive to language, its death and its possibilities for rebirth, the
mystic is also a befriender of silence.
Returning to the source of one’s being is rarely an experience that can
be expressed in words. Kabir says,
“Anyone who has had a taste of this love is so enchanted that he is stricken
with silence.” Have you ever been
“stricken with silence”? If so, you have
tasted the ineffable; you have had a mystical experience. Silence is too often defined as “the absence
of something” when it is much more than that.
Silence is also a search for something, a search for the depths. For the source. Many of the mystical awakenings experienced
by astronauts and cosmonauts in space have been triggered by the cosmic silence
they have encountered there. Similar
things happen to persons swimming in the depths of the sea or spelunking in the
caves of Mother Earth. Silence moves
people. That is why it is so essential
to meditation practices, including the art of listening to our images. Being, one might say, is silent. We must embrace silence in order to
experience being. Then—and only
then—does it speak deep truths to us…
That power from which the dance or the
painting or the music or the struggle or the love or the lovemaking comes is
silence. A left-bran culture will be ill
at ease with silence. It will be
excessively wordy. Words can obscure the
presence and power of the Divine as they so often do in worship services that
have lost touch with their mystical roots and have succumbed to
secularization. The fear of silence runs
deep in a culture void of mysticism.
Gregory Bateson celebrates the need and power of silence when he says:
Noncommunication of
certain sorts is needed if we are to maintain the “sacred.”…There are many
matters and many circumstances in which consciousness
is undesirable and silence is golden, so that secrecy can be used as a marker to tell us that we are
approaching holy ground. Then if we had
enough instances of the unuttered, we could begin to reach for a definition of
the “sacred.”
In a previous Newsletter
entitled “Community” I quoted M. Scott Peck as saying:
The overall purpose of human communication
is—or should be—reconciliation. It
should ultimately serve to lower or remove the walls and barriers of
misunderstanding that unduly separate us human beings from another. The word “ultimately” is important. Confrontive, even angry communication is
sometimes necessary to bring into focus the clear reality of those barriers
before they can be knocked down. In the
process of community-building, for instance, individual differences must first
be allowed to surface and fought over so that the group can ultimately learn to
accept, celebrate, and thereby transcend them.
When “confrontive, even angry
communication” loses its focus of creating community and simply becomes
combative and antagonistic, it’s time to take a break from this type of toxic
communication altogether. Perhaps it’s
time for all of us to “leave off words” and simply go inside to find that
mystical place of Godhood lying dormant within us.
And so, as one of my favorite
movie characters, Forrest Gump, so raptly stated, “And that’s all I have to say
about that.” I’m signing off the air and
allowing someone else to express themselves if desired. Peace, love and joy always—Janae aka Jesse
Christian alias “The White Buffalo Woman”
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