Tuesday, September 27, 2011

The Holy Fool

When it's cold and raining
You are more beautiful.

And the snow brings me
even closer to Your lips.

The Inner Secret,
that which was never born,

You are That Freshness,
and I am with You now.

I can't explain the goings
or the comings. You enter suddenly,

and I am nowhere again,
Inside the Majesty.

                   -- Rumi

        Last night I found myself once again "Inside the Majesty." I had been far outside it for a long time. Rejection by a close friend had wounded me deeply. Then I believed my job was being threatened because of unjust criticism and accusation. I felt old, hurting, angry and afraid, and could not stop obsessing about mistakes and wrongs of the past, dangers and difficulties of the future. I was lurching all over the psychological map--everywhere except here, now, in the Reality of the immediate present, the Eternal Presence.

       Yet from past experience I know that that Reality is always here, now, unchanging, incorruptible, a Beacon of Singing Light at the innermost core of my being, of all being. When Rumi writes "I can't explain the goings, / or the comings..." I don't take that to mean the goings or the comings of God, or Grace. Those goings and comings are my own; they expose how I chronically become obsessed by, then addicted to, my hurt, fear, anger, desire or despair. These delusions are the "goings"--my willful or clueless estrangement and alienation from my Higher Self. That's where I found myself last night--lying awake, staring into the dark, beseiged by my demons.


the ferocious piranhas of raw dread are tearing
bite-sized chunks right from my mind    a chair
is now the ridiculous pawn in a power struggle
the Nextel keeps shutting down in my pocket
DeWayne's pissed off because I've blamed him
I'm worried viral gossip could cost me my job

you'd think after so many years I'd have won it--
this endless pitched battle with chronic demons
you'd think a terrified little boy would grow up
stop cringing at those monsters under the bed
you'd think enough time was wasted    enough
chances blown    then you'd have to think again

you can't look at a life and judge: success/failure
not until you've suffered the same bitter wounds
wrestled with the same nightmarish obsessions
tasted the same bile of horror coating the tongue
but after that all judgement goes out the window
what's left is a naked mirror reflecting your soul


     After going round and round in my head, harried with insomnia, I became transfixed by that naked mirror reflecting my soul. Staring into it intently I understood that I have a choice, I always have a choice. I could continue to gaze--obsessed, addicted, spellbound--at the endlessly seductive or obscenely horrifying contortions of my demons, riddled with cosmic dread. Or by a drastic, purging, unconditional surrender; a profound, wholehearted metanoia penetrating right down to the naked core of my being, I could radically Focus Elsewhere. But not just any "Elsewhere." I could, and I did, uncompromisingly re-orient my soul's single-pointed attention to the radiant, joyous, serene, eternal, transcendent Light, the illuminating Presence which is always there and which never changes, falters or fails.

                       PIVOT POINT

the journey from one edge of an eyelash to another
                                how infinitely far!

and the time it takes--that microsecond's an eternity

but ride the next express between heaven and hell
either direction        now there's hair-raising speed!
               you'll arrive even before you depart

I know a breath    inside a breath    inside the breath

I know the pivot point for swirling clouds of worlds

tell me    are you awake yet    see what you can't see
hear what you can't hear      feel what you can't feel

there's a   pure   cold   stream   that's always flowing

if you find it don't hesitate    kneel    kneel and drink


     Paul wrote: "For the foolishness of God is wiser than men..." (1Co 1.25). The choice I made last night to "focus elsewhere" felt at the time like a foolish thing to do. The issues I'm struggling with are real, damaging, serious. There are no easy fixes. Don't I need to focus exclusively on them, worry incessantly about them, constantly be humping to troubleshoot them? Yet when  I'm caught in a hurricane, it's impossible to cope effectively while I'm being blasted by 100-mile-an-hour winds! Only from the safety of the calm, clear, luminous eye of the storm can I get my spiritual bearings, find my essential balance, and discern the means of wise action. Coming back Home to my Higher Self was a choice to seek refuge in the Divine Eye of the profane storm. There's a difference between a blind fool and a Holy Fool. The blind fool sticks his head in the sand. The Holy Fool wraps her soul in the Light. 

     The Inner Light is beyond both praise and blame, like unto space it knows no boundaries; yet it is right here with us, ever returning to serenity and fullness...You remain silent and it speaks; you speak and it is silent. The Gate of Heaven is wide open, with not a single obstruction before it.

                                              -- Yung Chia



No comments:

Post a Comment