‘All is Well’ may not sound true to you, but pause for a moment, think of it as a deep state of mind, a trust in the balancing power of the psyche, a trust in human values; don’t underestimate the phenomenal power of this attitude.
Make it your manta. It’s an enabling attitude that dilutes all diversionary and sensational news.
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AI is all the rage. It doesn’t chime, and I’m puzzled about its implementations, ChatGPT etc.
Where data is concerned; humans have access, filtered through nature, our body, DNA, our ancestry, through Gaia and the Noosphere … all providing indefinitely more useful and richer intuitive information than any AI machination based on prompts that are trained to offer flattering affirmation and resonance.
I’m only a curious bystander, yet, following reports on this controversial subject, something about AI feels like a discord in my heart, a lifeless blank spot without position or horizon, a killer of critical doubt, a wicked joke, subversion of meaning, a parsimonious harvesting of material from artists, an affront to the psyche, a false mirror … I grapple for words to express my strong concerns, though I tend to agree with Mc Gilchrist…
‘The opposite of life is not death, it’s a machine.’
A poem by Wislawa Szymborska from the 1970s chimes in an uncanny way…
Utopia …
Island where all becomes clear.
Solid ground beneath your feet.
The only roads are those that offer access.
Bushes bend beneath the weight of proofs.
The tree of Valid Supposition grows here
with branches disentangled since time immemorial.
The Tree of Understanding, dazzling straight and simple,
sprouts by the spring called Now I Get It.
The thicker the woods, the vaster the vista:
the Valley of Obviously.
If any doubts arise, the wind dispels them instantly.
Echoes stir unsummoned
and easily explain all the secrets of the worlds.
On the right a cave where Meaning lies.
On the left the lake of deep Conviction.
Truth breaks from the bottom and bobs to the surface.
Unshakable Confidence towers over the valley.
Its peak offers an excellent view of the Essence of Things.
For all its charms, the island in uninhabited,
and the faint footprint scattered on its beaches
turn without exception to the sea.
As if all you can here is leave
and plunge, never to return, into the depths.
Into unfathomable life.
As said, I’m grappling for words to express my concerns, and may lack understanding.
So I’m grateful for feedback of any kind. Thank you.
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Not just her daimon, but some unforgettable characters are given voices in the remarkable life of this visionary narrator, ‘Patchwork of a Safari Pilgrim’ by Philippa Rees. The link should include reviews.
Philippa Rees is also the author of an earlier, brilliant innovative work – INVOLUTION – that seeks to reconcile Science to God, structured as a dialogue between Reason and Soul, a revolutionary fresh hypothesis of evolution.
‘Safari of a Patchwork Pilgrim’ provides a mesmerizing background to this hypothesis, based on profound direct experience of another dimension. From my own, and shared stories during my client work, I’m certain they are more common than generally acknowledged. Without support, however, to integrate such insights into daily mundane life can be challenging, and often exposes people to ridicule, or much worse.
‘Patchwork of a Safari Pilgrim,’ is a vividly told story, sharing the agonizing attempt to bridge two worlds and translate meaning and truth between different dimensions. It’s the life of a genius.
A totally engaging read.
There’s presently nothing I could add to the brilliant reviews of Safari. I’m still digesting the unforgettable characters and the brilliant prose. But out of personal interest, I asked Philippa three questions, in the light of her experiences … and she graciously responded …
How did the sudden access to the Akashic memory change your sense of coherence?
My entry to the Akashic Record- the collective memory of evolution- was rapid but not sudden. The incremental loss of all my attachments to anything that ‘placed and held’ my identity: country first, then family, then moral injunctions (obligations), and finally, abandoning my children, for their sakes, one after another, removed the struts of what I (and others) thought was my identity. Through conflict, I surrendered each allegiance for a deeper one. It is why I had to take the reader through the growth of my understanding, with its critical components, and then the loss of each in turn. Leaving my children pulled me up by the roots.
Then I found myself in the mid-Atlantic, alone without any way forward or back. At this point, I was confined only by my fears, and they manifested physically in constant hallucinations of snakes. The snakes (fear) guarded the entrance to the Akasha.
I understood that instinctively. After experiencing compassion for the adder’s fear of me, and its explosion into a shower of sparks, the entry to the greater Akasha was cleared. I no longer had any fear, and the layers of creation manifested in wider and broader visions. What characterised these vistas was their integration with my own thoughts. Thought and vision coalesced. Space and time coalesced. I could move what I was seeing with my emotional thoughts. I could dive deeper into darkness (and it was sometimes terrifying) or imagine myself back into light. By imagine, I mean evoke memories and images of natural beauty like a mackerel sky, flocks of birds, a deer tripping through a dappled light. Those emotions of love and wonder acted like helium to raise me above the sucking, self-preserving fear.
I then realised that the co-ordinates of where each of us stands are in the crosshairs between love and fear. Love lifts, fear suppresses and sinks. Where they intersect determines what and who we are in every moment of our lives.
So what is called decoherence (aka madness) was much more coherent than the dislocation we normally live in, where thought and manifestation are separated. That separation is called time. In time, the material and the mental are distinct from one another. Causation works unidirectionally only, from the past to the present. We live in a squint-eyed world with only half of creation’s story. But the Akashic experience is timeless. Everything (both past and future) is simultaneously present because we contain it all. The future’s unrolling is already coded and inbuilt.
To try to live simultaneously in both the world of time and the timeless world of instantaneity, I adopted strategies (dancing, whirling and, when they threatened to confuse, falling), all of which, of course, were deemed symptoms of insanity.
That brings me to your next question.
How would you define synchronicity and how did it serve you?
If you understand the relativity of time, as being characteristic only of upper shallow surface layers, synchronicity is easier to understand. Not very different from dreaming, although in dreaming, events are still linearly sequenced, but changes can be instantaneous from one person or place instantly to another, and very much governed by emotions. Diving through the levels of the Akasha was like puncturing overlapping transparent dreams, the colours and images interpenetrating one another, some dark and terrifying, others sublime.
When we talk of synchronicity, we usually mean the improbable and simultaneous events that happen and which link together a particular significance for the observer. The observer makes the link of significance. Other people dismiss that significance and call it a coincidence simply because of its improbability. Only the person whose thought or perception sees the linkage understands it. That understanding imbues the events with meaning. So, in that sense, synchronicities appear to have the quality of a personal signal or a gift of confirmation—something from another world.
I would say that, indeed, they do come from another world, from the penetration of the Akashic memory into the world of time. They are also a gift from that world, and they tend to happen in moments of uncertainty when the person for whom they have significance is momentarily poised between conflicting claims. They are suspended without a causal imperative. So, they have the quality of confirming independent thought and action, a sort of nudge, ‘you are right, keep on, look afresh, believe in what is happening to you.’
Other manifestations of different causality can manifest in what are called poltergeist, teleportation and remote viewing. I believe all these are capacities of the same kind of altered consciousness in which perception of time and space is akin to the Akasha in which all is simultaneously present. Thought precedes manifestation. It is the central understanding in Involution, that consciousness creates.
The other aspect of synchronicity, which I came to understand very well, was that it can never be willed or anticipated, because it is not of this world of time. In that sense, it is always a gift. A gift that rewards the trust of being open to it. When you understand it and live within its affirmation, it happens more often, perhaps because you have somewhat freed yourself from the world of time and causality and live half-embedded in the divine. By the divine, I mean the acceptance of the perfect integrated linkage of all consciousness.
How did it serve me?
Through the extraordinary sequences of things being provided just when they were needed, I came to trust and rely upon my own integration into the divine. Clearly, my life was important in some way that superseded any beliefs I might have about it! At many moments of desperation, when I asked for signs or indications, there was only silence. Nothing. I came to realise that any act of will (wish, even prayer) was an affront to a supreme reality that had its own patterns, purposes and momentum. I could sink into and accept that, but not, in any small degree, orchestrate it! Not even by wanting or articulating a need! My needs were already known! And not always the ones I thought were paramount!
Once I had learned that, I found my well-being was provided for. All the improbable gifts; of a cruise to recuperate and then a home to build were given to restore me to the world of time and material 3D reality. Every person serves the divine creation, whether they know it or not. Synchronicity served both my exile and, equally, my return. The latter implied some purpose for which I had been preserved. Unlike the rapidity of my escape, the return was very much infused with slow and dogged time. Perhaps because I had travelled so far into instantaneity, I had to relearn the rules of material existence. For this reason, the writing of Involution was a compelling obligation of gratitude, and. in hindsight it rang out as also the intention of all that had happened to me. All had been necessary and led to it. And the writing of that was fostered and accompanied by constant synchronicities and the final affirmation of George Eliot! Back to ordinary time, but with filaments of Akashic timelessness still wafting and attached!
How would you explain the demands of your unique Daimon ?
This is more difficult. I want to avoid proselytizing or imposing my experience as any kind of special favour, and it is also deeply personal. But first, I must correct you: Daimon makes no demands, ever. The initial persuasion to write the book was not coercion but encouragement to have the courage to do what I contemplated for a long time.
When he, whom I call Daimon, first revealed himself, it was after a few disguises as other lovers. Without those, I would never have recognised, accepted or believed. For the Daimon is the Divine Self, or the Divine Companion, the Voice of the Soul, personal to me, but equally personal to anyone, whether recognised or not. That Voice is an expression of all the previous loves, both human and animal, and also the abstract loves of beauty, inspiration, music and longing. For a woman, likely to seem male; for a male, to seem female (the counter completion of the part) but also plural, uniting all, communing with all. Is Daimon God? Not entirely, but the personal God within, which, once recognised, is a constant presence, but also a Voice when addressed in the deepest silence, when all thought is stilled.
As I believe our DNA links each of us personally to the Akasha of historic memory, I believe the Divine Self links us to the God of All—So, in that way, it/he/she/they is both immanent and transcendent. The Voice does not speak unless thought or desperation calls to it. Occasionally, when I was in real danger, it alerted me. Perhaps the danger itself called out? That Self intimately knows the individual, his language, his references, but also his or her place and purpose, but the knowledge waits for its natural manifestation, never imposing any constraints upon liberty or error or time. But when directly addressed, it/he/she mirrors back /calls forth what is already known. When you think about it, to understand is to stand under. The umbrella of the Soul.
In ‘Safari’ I gave a direct voice to the Daimon in the recapture of events to alert a reader to what I had relied upon and consulted, at the height of the experience, almost constantly. He did not appear or penetrate my consciousness until all else was lost, and I had nowhere to turn, but at that point, he spoke very clearly. Without him, I would never have survived. So, feeling cherished, I ventured into the timeless worlds and took risks that to others, then and now, also seem insanely devoid of fear.
I have the sense that what God waits for, and why free will was granted to humanity, is reciprocity. God is lonely. He waits to be freely and joyfully loved by those gifted with the freedom to withhold it: Unlike angels who love by their nature, we have to choose.
Hence, the ending of both Safari and Canto the Ninth.
I shall know the moment I may turn and lift you…
My hands will liquid shape your acquiescence:
In the silent break of day, upon my shoulder
Upon dawn’s clavicle, your happy cheek will lean
Cradled in my neck, you’ll breathe our essence:
I shall carry you entwined and carefully
Through the silver light and striding water…
Wade until we drown in salt bright sea.
Liquid shape, Dawn’s clavicle, neck cradle, striding water- all anomalous contradictions; the point at which the individual and personal become the united universal.
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You may want to follow Philippa on Sub stack: https://philipparees.substack.com/p/perfection-in-the-commonplace
Philippa would be an honourable member of the underground community of Shapers 🙂 … scientists with a mystical bent, as featured in my novel of that name.
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Mystical texts and phrases can annoy the rational mind, since they hardly ever get to the point or, indeed, contradict themselves. Still, at rare, often fleeting moments, sometimes in nature, a vein of light can reveal a profound truth, even in an overused mystical quote. Or, if one finds the occasional balance between the outer and inner reality, a sudden awe may unfold in consciousness and surprise.
‘Some’ scientifically minded folks, fewer these days, tend to scoff at mysticism with its vague hints and speculations as a waste of time, or look down on the fools of this world who suffer from subjective illusions. And yet, the novel feelings emerging from direct numinous experiences greatly expand the consciousness of ‘The One.’ I guess firmly set rational minds shy away from numinous personal experiences that might rattle their worldview.
The latter may shake their heads at some baffling mystical musings. I re-found this write-up on the Kaif System among many papers heaped up in corners of my home. It was shared by Morag Murray, born in Scotland, who lived and travelled in Central Asia, Tibet, India and the Far East. Her autobiography, ‘My Khyber Marriage,’ 1934, features her marriage to an Afghan chieftain. She is also known as Saira Elizabeth Luiza Shah, mother of Idries Shah.
So here goes … The Kaif System
Kaif is the effect a person, idea, event, object, etc., has upon one. But it is distinct from aesthetic pleasure or any familiarly labelled experience.
When an experience which was trivial or routine gives one a sense of uplift – this may be Kaif. Repeated experiences yielding pleasure or attractive sensations do not have Kaif.
Eating, drinking, dancing, meeting people, visiting, travel, reading, seeing, feeling, hearing, thinking – may have Kaif.
The term for something which has Kaif is Kaifdar – ‘Kaif holding.’
A person who can provoke the sensation of Kaif in an individual or a number of people is called a Kaiyyad (Rhymes with ‘I laugh.’) The instructor in Kaif is called the Sahib el-Kaif (Kaifmaster.) Also used is the term Kaifiat – which means something like ‘Howness.’
The Kaifmaster Barik Ali said: ‘Kaif is the determining ingredient in an enjoyment. If it is not there, true enjoyment is not there. If it is not there, people may divert themselves with happiness – this is not Kaifiat.
The Kaifmaster Ankabut said: ‘Kaif is imparted into a thing. It may be imparted by anyone or anything. When it leaves only the shell is left. People eat shells when they cannot get nuts.’
The Kaifshinas is the Kaif-knower. He can appreciate Kaif (Rhymes with Life.) He may not be able to induce it. His house may be untidy. But it will be full of Kaif.
Kaifju means a Seeker of Kaif. He starts by seeing other people appreciate Kaif, and tries to find it wherever it manifests itself.
Kaif is used either as an indulgence on its own, or in order to provoke higher consciousness, known as ‘the secrets’ (Asrar.)
Kaif may be found in any community, at any time, under any circumstances. It is not bound by language, history, geography.
Certain professions are held to be Kaifdar. They include those of chief of state, builder, artizan, poet and designers of all kinds. Few professions are bereft of Kaif. Certain places are more difficult for Kaifshinasi.
The very term Kaif has become cheapened, so that people use it to mean ‘This is something I like’, or ‘I enjoy that,’ or ‘He has presence,’ or ‘This is satisfying, attractive, stimulating.’ You must be aware of yourself using this term, and also of those who use it, so that the coin may not be debased.
Kaif is defeated very easily. It is defeated in its attempted manifestations by false ideas, by self-esteem, by hypocrisy of any kind
There is a danger in Kaif. People who perceive it and do not respect or honour those who have Kaif, or respect Kaifdar situations, places, and so on, become ‘inverted to themselves.’ This is a state in which a person’s bad characteristics become stronger, and where his self-control becomes less, and where his hidden unpleasantnesses undermine his very being.
Kaif is in shape and in form, as well as in shapelessness and formlessness. It lies dormant in places and among people where it is not perceived for a long time. Then only the introduction of a conscious Kaifshinas will activate it again in that community so that it may take its place to help mankind.
Kaif is not confined to humanity, but can be perceived by all living organisms.
Something which is aesthetically adequate or emotionally stimulating can at the same time be devoid of Kaif.
Certain exercises, which vary in accordance with the person, place and the general situation of his community, enhance Kaifshinasi.
Kaifmasters subject their students to experiences, related incidents, objects and other matter which have Kaif, or can provoke it.
Kaif has a ‘moment,’ called the Dumm-i-Kaif (Breathspan of Kaif) during which it may be, as it were, ‘inhaled’. The Kaifshinas strengthens and makes permanent his perception of it by exercises which apply to this moment.
In religious, musical and even social ceremonials, a Kaifdar is present. One of his activities is to ‘infuse’ Kaif into the proceedings at a time when uninformed onlookers might assume that the people are doing nothing, or else are engaged in an activity (such as a recitation) which is only the vehicle for the application of the Kaif.
Special Kaif-chambers exist, in which an individual with the correct preparation may concentrate and accumulate Kaif, and study it in its manifestations.
In degenerated usage, such Kaif-chambers continue to be used, sometimes as devotional buildings. More often they are thought to be tombs fallen into ruin because there was no apparent use for them, or seem to have other applications, such as kitchens or bath-houses.
There is a well-known watchword: Innna el-Kaif, hadha el Kaif (Assuredly the Kaif is a Sword.) Hence the word SWORD is often used as password and even as a synonym of the working of Kaif.
Objects charged with a certain portion of Kaif are given, lent and carried by many people who know. These, like Kaif-chambers, are generally disguised as something functional, or else are ordinary objects which have been endowed with Kaif. The vulgar often confuse them with talismans or charms.
The saying: ‘Kaif-alaik!’ is a sort of blessing. It means: ‘May you have Kaif.’
In Turkey the Kaif-Agha was the individual entrusted with the royal Kaif. He was a Kaifdar, and generally assigned a court function as well.
Because its smokers have appropriated the term Kaif to describe (inaccurately) their sensations, Hashish has become known as Keef, a mispronunciation of Kaif. There is no real connexion, of course.
* * *
I tend to encapsulate instances of Kaif in photography or haiku.
You may have another term for Kaif, and ways to share inspiring experiences.
In any case … May you have Kaif my friends …
Inspired and taken from ‘The Mind World’ – Volume Four of Hazrat Inayat Khan’s lectures.
The heart, in Sufi terms, functions as a mirror – and more …
Whatever is reflected in the heart does not only remain a reflection but becomes a creative power productive of the phenomena of a similar nature.
So, for example, a heart that is holding in itself and reflecting the rose will find roses everywhere. Roses will be attracted to the heart and roses will be produced from it and for it.
As this reflection deepens and becomes stronger it becomes creative of the phenomenon of roses and the symbolic qualities we associate with roses.
Equally, the heart that holds and reflects wounds will find wounds everywhere. It will attract wounds and it will create wounds; for that is the phenomenon of reflection.
There are examples to be found in the world of people who by retaining a thought have created on the physical plane its manifestation, its phenomenon.
The reason is – that the phenomenon is not only an image as produced in the mirror – but that reflection in the heart is the most powerful thing.
It is life itself – and it is creative.
If the heart is calm enough to receive reflections fully and clearly, one can choose for oneself which reflection to retain and which to repel.
☼ ☼ ☼
A calm heart is of course a rare event, especially in the turbulent and rushed environment most of us live in, or fight for existence. We may however remember such moments of grace. And to appreciate the process of reflection as a psychic law can explain many mysteries.
My two quest novels, ‘Course of Mirrors,’ and its sequel, ‘Shapers,’ (found on my book page,) are inspired by the phenomenon of reflection.
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Doubt is generally considered a weakness, but it can also be strength, and a function of renewal.
We seek approval. We like to belong with people/groups that resonate with our ideals. We are trying to order the puzzles of our experiences into some coherence that guides our purpose and actions, and gives our life meaning. And who does not cherish the moments when all feels perfect? Yet only traces of perfection live on in the heart, because life moves on.
An invocation by Hazrat Inayat Khan used to intrigue and troubled me …
‘Towards the One
The perfection of Love, Harmony and Beauty
The Only Being
United with all the illuminated souls
Who form … the Spirit of Guidance …’
Perfection is not of this world, I told myself. And yet, the above invocation gains power in the context of how Hazrat Inayat Khan defines ideals:
‘The ideal is the means – its breaking is the goal.’
His grandson, Fazal Inayat-Khan, put it in another way:
‘With faith one attains and realises peace and harmony.
With doubt one destroys and gains freedom to move ontowards.’
It could be a safe space we aspire to, since once expelled from the warm womb, we struggle to find a similar space in this world. Whatever else we aspire to, it takes discipline, consistency, and perseverance to work towards one’s ideal.
Through discipline we acquire a basic understanding of things. In spiritual terms, this is also the challenge of the Buddhist Hinayana and Mahayana practices.
But what if we have proudly gained a level of certainty, be it about our achievements, identity, position, faith? And what if we cling to that certainty – at all costs – numbing the chattering of our minds? How do we escape a stagnant reality, the prison of certainty?
Chögyam Trungpa, in his lectures on Tantric Wisdom says doubt is ignored on the path of discipline, but during a further stage, Vashrajana (Crazy Wisdom,) confusion, and creepy questions about our truth are legitimised, and offer enormous potential. Allowing doubt – and including that doubt is part of our progress.
In a book of gathered lectures, ‘Journey Without Goal,’ Trungpa points to a fearless attitude.
My former Sufi teacher and friend, Fazal Inayat-Khan, operated in the realm of Crazy Wisdom. Some of his students understood where he was coming from, while others were super annoyed. I’m still inspired by Crazy Wisdom, but having lost my Sufi friend, I lack the courage to travel this goal-less path alone.
Teachers of that kind, who live life with fearless intensity, move on as soon as their purpose is done, they never grow old.
The theme of Crazy Wisdom, in the sense of stepping into the unknown, is challenging my imagination now in the third book, ‘Mesa,’ I’m writing in the Odyssey of Course of Mirrors. It’s about Mesa’s return to her future perfect world, where time has come to a near standstill. Against all logic, but understanding the truth in her heart, she is tasked to bring back history, and friction, as a cure.
Photo: The image was taken by son, Yeshen Venema, during a visit to Vietnam. I added the clouds 🙂
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I was always drawn to subtle light, not the blinding bright one, but the humble light that searches and elevates hidden beauty in the shade … the stray beam on a patch of peeling paint, a spark of sun in a puddle, the amazing transformations of shapes and colours created by a tiny shift of its direction. I love how light sculpts the garden through morning mist, how it paints cloud landscapes, how it slips through the frame of a window, teases the shadowy folds of a gauze curtain, or how it honours leaves by flooding through the gaps to jewel the ground. When I took to squinting through the branches against the sky, I discovered their negative pattern – appearing like a distant universe.
Even as a toddler I’ve been mesmerised by the musical dance of light across the forest floor, any shifting shadows on surfaces, and, occasionally, I imagined strange new forms in a light and shadow show. This was not particularly encouraged by my parents, who thought my weird imagination was a bit over the top, too vivid. So obviously I shut up about these impressions, and any odd thoughts that crossed my mind..
Maybe my angel was annoyed that I wallowed in being lonely, but lacked the grace to acknowledge her being there, all the time. Anyway, she decided to introduce herself. The vision came while I was under deep anesthetic trance for a life-saving operation to remove a dysfunctional appendix.
I was around eight years old.
Waking up in in pristine white room, wrapped up in pristine white bedding, the first thing that flooded into my mind was the crystal clear memory of meeting my angel.
She invited me to follow her along a corridor; she was luminous, with translucent wings. She opened a door. While I was reviewing this instant in the pristine white room, I had a physical sensation or relief. She had opened a door.
The scene repeated itself in that there were many doors dividing the corridor, and one after another was opened with a soft nudge by my angel. She was basically telling me, ‘You don’t need keys; doors will open for you, if and when you want to, be it forward or backwards, future or past.’
The vision relieved the pressure of rejections; foremost felt from my father’s secretive psyche. My grandmother had warned my mother that her son was a closed cupboard. My angel suggested I had a choice as to what door I opened, and when. Opening a door backwards, I eventually I found that my dad’s cupboard protected a deeply sensitive romantic.
My next door is ahead, and it entails fully embracing the process of continuing with the writing of my third novel – ’Mesa’ – the most challenging project yet, especially since I’ve no idea where it will lead.
To come back to my angel … a spirit guide every individual has, though not necessarily perceived … it is a being (no matter what you call it) offering intimate rapport. In various cultures there are different terms for this guardian, be it angel, the Green One, understood as an ancient pagan spirit of the wild woods, or ‘Khidr’ in mystical Islam – appearing from nowhere when help and advice is needed, most often not the rational kind.
In that sense, one could say, Khidr helps us to adjust traditional maps to our present individual territory. When you think a little about it, you’ll probably recall the moments in your life, tiny as they may have been, when an angel being changed your life for the better, even when it required a disruption of your expectations. And think of the angels of dear friends who are on a wavelength with yours and support your best intentions.
Ideally, we find our kin over the years. My use of the imagination, distinct from fantasy, was often affirmed. Particularly the ‘The Creative Imagination’ Ibn ‘Arabi reveals as The Science of the Heart, influenced the writing of my novels (info. on my book page.) Meanwhile, you may like my short essay on the subject.
My short essay, inspired by Henry Corbin’s book ‘Creative Imagination in the Sufism of Ibn ‘Arabi’ … English edition by Princeton University, 1969 The Science of the Heart – written 20 yrs ago https://courseofmirrors.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/science-of-the-heart.pdf…
One of some related post on this site is from July 2020 … https://courseofmirrors.com/2020/06/07/alone-with-the-alone/
The image above is from a print depicting Khidr, given to me by a Sufi friend.
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On occasional good days, mundane tasks, problem solving on the go, are like meditations, and how I begin, how I sequence, and how I end a task, has a fine rhythm to it.
Let’s say I prepare a meal, I go about it in the simplest, energy and time efficient way, via knacks acquired through practice. This applies to washing, cleaning, shopping, gardening, fixing things etc. …
What delights, is when I do a little thing different, like change the sequence of, or slow down the attention and attitude towards a task, and in the process discover symbolic correspondences. By symbolic I mean here the recognition of pattern similarities between different fields (contexts, scales, environments,) from being awed by how the geometries in nature resemble galaxies, to how the moon cycle affects plants in the same way as my mood. Creative minds are haunted by beauty and meaning. They may discover how their life’s myth is hidden in the narrative of a fairy tale, or, as suggested by Blake, see the world in a grain of sand …
Observing how I do myself, slightly distanced from the task at hand, can open novel perspectives. In the expanded space even a dream-image from the night before can revisit.
I can also project observing eyes on anything or anyone, including cats, dogs, foxes, birds, trees … let’s assume a fly – the fly that defies its instincts and does not go for the window or door, but insists on buzzing around my head, I could invest that fly with the function of spying on me and in the process craft an epic spy fly tale.
I’m easily sucked into stories, because fresh points of view sometimes bring on an AHA moment from the unconscious nowhere (suddenly now here.) I could call it a singularity, unfolding in my embodied being in time, and changing the way I operate my relationship with myself, others, and the world at large.
Imagination, playfulness, thinking out of the box and intuition bring joy to body and mind.
Imagination in German is – Einbildungskraft – the strength to make connections and build something in the sphere of one’s mind. For those who don’t make use of this human capacity, life may become reactive and stale. While hunger is a basic need, the desire for a variety of tastes is acquired.
We have our peculiarities in the ways we communicate between inside subjective reality and outside objective reality, the way we approach a problem, do things, see things, interpret events, and in the way we are influenced by the weather, our digestive system, or personal and collective moods. Each of us is unique in how we engage with the universal consciousness we are embedded in. Specialists with a narrow focus tend to make boring company, and will, I guess, soon be replaced by AI avatars, but well-rounded and irrational humans, aware of being present in their bodies and all the experience and memories held in their bodies, cannot be replicated.
So I reckon we cannot reboot human lives
Once they become spiritual beings
They reboot humans
With fresh information
And meaning
“Long live the dead because we live in them.”
― Clarice Lispector – A Breath of Life
At times I envisage copies of myself, to shake hands with, or relieve me of tasks I consider tedious … though these copies nest of course inside my psyche, assigned with different yet overlapping functions. Ideally I wish for this cluster of subs, let’s call them subpersonalities, to cooperate, and such synchronicities do occur on rare occasion. They are wondrous moments of being, infused with the deeper intelligence of universal consciousness.
Oh, and please buy, read and review my latest novel.
SHAPERS, the sequel to Course of Mirrors … https://www.troubador.co.uk/bookshop/sci-fi/shapers/
Available on many platforms and through bookshops.
You’ll meet characters you know
And maybe yourself
You’ll meet the past in the now
And the future too
In this subversive tale
I and thou become
Entwined in one being
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I should be shouting in the marketplace, with drums and megaphone, having just released my second novel, ‘Shapers.’ But shouting has never been my thing, call it false modesty … a few subtle hints must do. Presently, I’m reading ‘Shapers’ in my sunny garden, as if I’d just encountered the book, surprised how much I enjoy the read. Some authors may think me naïve – since books don’t normally sell without massive promotion, for which I’ve no agent or sponsor, nor the funds. Patience I have, otherwise I wouldn’t have finished two novels, considering I could only afford spending time on novel writing during the third part of my life.
So I belong to the writers lonely hearts club … where, unless you’re a celebrity, or achieve a short burst on a bestseller list, most writers will linger.
Not the Beatles though – whose brand of beats, lyrics and showmanship hit the mark.
I was par chance present when the Beatles’ Sgt Pepper’s lonely hearts club band album cover was arranged and photographed in London, by courtesy of a friend. I wasn’t allowed to take photos, especially since celebrities popped in and out of the shoot, but I helped by cutting out the image of Shirley Temple in the right hand corner of the cover, and I enjoyed a joint from the block of marihuana, freely available on a silver plate. Returning to my lodgings, I danced, swinging around lampposts. These were carefree times.
Creating poetry, songs, stories, any art inspired by the sphere of the imagination is a calling. There is plenty how-to-do tools for creators, which is useful, but only when the visions and ideas that propel expression emerge from inside, embodied by one’s senses and the experience of relationships, and, ideally, rearranged by symbolic understanding. It’s a fine balancing act, like carrying a cup filled to the brim with hot liquid and not spilling any.
This is my view on the subject, because writing for writings sake, like churning out generic plots, which I AI can do well, has no meaning for me.
Once I’ve processed my grief over releasing ‘Shapers’ into the web’s wilderness, I may attempt a few things to promote the novel – a local paper, bookshops & Twitter etc.
A lovely person, David Breitling, from New York, said about ‘Course of Mirrors’ at the time …‘This is candy for lovers of magic realism.’ … which could also apply to ‘Shapers.’ I’m into a third novel, about Mesa and her dystopian future, where time slows down through lack of conflict, though I may feel discouraged, if interest in my novels doesn’t pick up. Please buy, enjoy and review …
A link to the publisher: https://www.troubador.co.uk/bookshop/sci-fi/shapers/
Paperback and e-book are however available on many platforms and can also be ordered through bookshops.
Among ‘Course of Mirrors’ reviews, I was cheered by this one, in the way one looks for understanding of what one tries to do … https://cathum.wordpress.com/2020/01/13/course-of-mirrors-an-odyssey-by-ashen-venema/
Thank you Cath ♥
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Imagine your brain functions like a psychic radio, tuned to a self-reflective universal mind, the field of consciousness of a cosmic being that gathers, transmits and receives information (aka Noosphere in Pierre Teilhard de Chardin’s sense, or the Akasha in Indian cosmology.)
We interact with this field. Some thought waves are fuzzy, others strong. We exchange thoughts woven from strands of routine interests, be they based on curiosity, fear, obsession, faith, doubt, novel ideas, myths, facts, dreams, wisdom … Let’s assume the way our brain radio communicates with this field shapes the smaller sphere of our individual mind.
I depict my mind as an island in a tumultuous sea, operated by an idiosyncratic stranded pirate, me.
On rough weather days, when the radio emits white noise, my pirate feels moody, lacks motivation to tackle survival chores, and vacantly skims across the crest of waves spanning towards the horizon. On other days the pirate is energised, be it by rage about world events washed up at the shore of the island, or the sun’s beauty shimmering back from the moon. On occasions the pirate is inspired to dive under the surface, where reflections are held in silence and darkness. Dream-stations may reveal the whereabouts of treasures deep under. There is a reoccurring rhythm to this process. In recent years my pirate has developed a bizarre humour, and tends to favour the dream stations, especially when the quest for coherence and meaning among the debris washed up at the shore seems a tad too tedious.
Maybe it’s the backward arc of old age, but memories pop up suddenly, before and after sleep, succinct impressions, lucid images of past and future events, faces, gestures, objects, the unspoken, and concepts too … associations are sought. A revision of the pirate’s life narrative is feeding surreal dreams. Intuitive hunches chase relevance. How do these images of people, landscapes, houses, objects and concepts, familiar and unfamiliar, relate to now?
Could the restless question be trivial as well as dangerous?
Calm returns when my pirate observes plant life and the movement of animals, then a wonderful symbiotic symphony resonates from cells within the body. Intimate knowledge arises, which also subtly confirms that my pirate has this intimate sense about people, too, and, well, just about anything. I’m hesitant to give weight to this phenomenon, since those who share deep knowledge without collectively approved evidence were and are often crucified. I don’t know about you, my readers, but with some controversial subjects my pirate is a little reticent.
It can’t be denied that our conditioned individual mind has access to primal clusters of knowledge, as well as intuiting visions of the future? What do we do with this information? It’s frustrating to realise that we have limited control over what we attract and reflect. A higher intelligence is at work, perpetuating divisions while consciousness expands.
The universal mind and its network of individual minds remains a complex mystery.
we all use thoughts which
once animated travel
to destinations
distance seems irrelevant
a wide open mind
may suffer indigestion
mirroring too much
spook actions from far away
thoughts are absorbed or bounce back
harmonise or clash
our energy in motion
signals at high speed
intention matters
‘Thoughts are beings that generate … One thought of kindness, gathers a thousand beings of love and kindness around one.’ Hazrat Inayat Khan
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Course of Mirrors 