Continuing yesterday’s dialogue, I think that the spiritual nature is essentially always, to some extent, at odds with the physical nature. How we are on the inside always wanting to come out and show itself, for better or for worse, and our “outside self” wanting to stick to the program of “this is who I am.” Of course, even the layers on the inside are many-layered. There are the actual memories, the memories of which we are not conscious, perhaps, if you are so inclined, memories and impressions of past lives, dreams, wishes, desires, which are all that come to mind at the moment, but I have no doubt that there are more to name, and I should look at the Yoga Sutras to that verse that describes all of that which interferes with seeing the totally stripped down version of ourself.
Of course, as I see it, that version is a tabula rosa, like what I would imagine a baby would be before language, except that a baby comes with 9 months of interactions with the mother and the outside world via the womb…so that’s not a good example. That version isn’t God, I was told by one of my teachers. God is something else. But it’s the closest we get to God.
The thing I wonder about the paradox inherent in the notion of this stripping down. If the stripping down is enlightenment, then ultimately, how can one experience enlightenment? In other words, enlightenment is DEVOID of experience. Parusha needs Prakriti, and vice versa. You can’t see yourself without a mirror. The mirror is not you. But you need it.
If a tree falls in the forest, and no one hears it, what good is it at all? Who cares if it made a sound?
And one more thing – I HOPE this isn’t my last life. And I have no doubt that it is not. But I wouldn’t want it to be. I am having way too much fun here. Suffering, schmuffering. It’s SPRING! I’m starting on the gardening (albeit from the indoors, with potted plants which I will move outside when the time is right). I just counted the stepping stones I will need to make a path from my side door (which leads from the basement, which we are going to start finishing into a recreation room any time now….contractor…where are you?) to the back porch (50). I decided exactly what I need to fill in the empty spots in the garden beds, realistically, with a full acceptance of the fact that Doe, Roe and Moe, our prodigal deer, will be back in full swing, munching out on all they find tasty as soon as we roll up the deer fencing for the spring. Deer don’t like boxwood hedges or spyrea or barberry. And those are just fine by me.
Here’s the thing that I’m trying to say: if it’s wrong to be unenlightened, to leave a little work for the next life…then, hell, I don’t wanna be right.