Riffing off one of the themes (a major one) of Henry Corbin this morning, my mind reverberates within angelic realms. Each of us has (and is) an Angel of our Being. (Capitalizing is generally anathema today since all is reduced to the plebeian, the LCD, Lowest Common Denominator. Yet some realms call for capitalization.)
Mister Seven reminded me this morning in our all too brief but enlightening talk of those invisible to most, but not to some: beings who live outside the circle of the accepted wisdom of the current occidental society. There are many, waiting to be welcomed back in. I wish to speak at the moment only of the Angel of y(our) Being.
My repeated use of parentheses reminds me that we tend to lead a parenthetical existence. We isolate ourselves within our bounds, our self-imposed bounds, our limits to our existence, and we call that Reality.
The Angel of our Being sits patiently outside that self-created circumscription, awaiting our awakening.
The Angel of our Being is our twin, our heavenly twin. We are its counterpart, our legs dangling down into this more solidified experience we call Life. We have, in some sense, the tougher role as a solidification into denser spirit, which we call matter. Solidification is difficult, yet the Angel of our Being also has a tough job, mourning and in pain when we lose our Vision, lose our Way.
Rejoicing (re-juicing) occurs when we finally (intermittently?) awaken and full fill our rightly role: wrestling for the Angel. We are the protrusion of Spirit into this dense dense world and reclaim it, enthuse it as we acknowledge and open to the Angel of our Being.
To do so requires total vulnerability, a state of existing that is, on first consideration, repugnant and fear provoking to many. Yet the Samurai of yore and today proclaim: the best defense is total vulnerability. Vulnerable to Death. Vulnerable to Love. Vulnerable to all that arises. To be hard and strong is to succumb to rigor mortis. Mongols in silk shirts were able to defeat knights in armor. Wu wei.
Ancient wisdom is to live as if you have already gone on. Die before you die. Then who can do a thing with you, a person of no thing? We become Nothing, Nothing Doing. The Angel of our Being rejoices. The world is transformed.
(Written with a borrowed freshly sharpened pencil on provided paper at the Weatherford Hotel -- if it's good enough for Zane Grey, it's mighty fine for me. First Tuesday in June, 2013)
Mister Seven reminded me this morning in our all too brief but enlightening talk of those invisible to most, but not to some: beings who live outside the circle of the accepted wisdom of the current occidental society. There are many, waiting to be welcomed back in. I wish to speak at the moment only of the Angel of y(our) Being.
My repeated use of parentheses reminds me that we tend to lead a parenthetical existence. We isolate ourselves within our bounds, our self-imposed bounds, our limits to our existence, and we call that Reality.
The Angel of our Being sits patiently outside that self-created circumscription, awaiting our awakening.
The Angel of our Being is our twin, our heavenly twin. We are its counterpart, our legs dangling down into this more solidified experience we call Life. We have, in some sense, the tougher role as a solidification into denser spirit, which we call matter. Solidification is difficult, yet the Angel of our Being also has a tough job, mourning and in pain when we lose our Vision, lose our Way.
Rejoicing (re-juicing) occurs when we finally (intermittently?) awaken and full fill our rightly role: wrestling for the Angel. We are the protrusion of Spirit into this dense dense world and reclaim it, enthuse it as we acknowledge and open to the Angel of our Being.
To do so requires total vulnerability, a state of existing that is, on first consideration, repugnant and fear provoking to many. Yet the Samurai of yore and today proclaim: the best defense is total vulnerability. Vulnerable to Death. Vulnerable to Love. Vulnerable to all that arises. To be hard and strong is to succumb to rigor mortis. Mongols in silk shirts were able to defeat knights in armor. Wu wei.
Ancient wisdom is to live as if you have already gone on. Die before you die. Then who can do a thing with you, a person of no thing? We become Nothing, Nothing Doing. The Angel of our Being rejoices. The world is transformed.
(Written with a borrowed freshly sharpened pencil on provided paper at the Weatherford Hotel -- if it's good enough for Zane Grey, it's mighty fine for me. First Tuesday in June, 2013)
I like and identify.
ReplyDeleteYes!
DeleteI love this, George...absolute perfection!
ReplyDeleteCathy :) xo xo
Thank you, Cathy!
DeleteMirrors a conversation I had yesterday with an 80 year old friend. So beautifully put, George. I'm sending this on to her and into myself. --Steve F.
ReplyDelete