How many ills, how many infirmities, does man owe to his excesses, his ambition – in a word, to the indulgence of his various passions! He who should live soberly in all respects, who should never run into excesses of any kind, who should be always simple in his tastes, modest in his desires, would escape a large proportion of the tribulations of human life. It is the same with regard to spirit-life, the sufferings of which are always the consequence of the manner in which a spirit has lived upon the earth. In that life undoubtedly he will no longer suffer from gout or rheumatism; but his wrong-doing down here will cause him to experience other sufferings no less painful. We have seen that those sufferings are the result of the links which exist between a spirit and matter; that the more completely he is freed from the influence of matter – in other words, the more dematerialized he is – the fewer are the painful sensations experienced by him. It depends, therefore, on each of us to free ourselves from the influence of matter by our action in this present life. Man possesses free-will, and, consequently, the power of electing to do or not to do. Let him conquer his animal passions; let him rid himself of hatred, envy, jealousy, pride; let him throw off the yoke of selfishness; let him purify his soul by cultivating noble sentiments; let him do good; let him attach to the things of this world only the degree of importance which they deserve – and he will, even under his present corporeal envelope, have effected his purification, and achieved his deliverance from the influence of matter, which will cease for him on his quitting that envelope. For such a one the remembrance of physical sufferings endured by him in the life he has quitted has nothing painful, and produces no disagreeable impression, because they affected his body only, and left no trace in his soul. He is happy to be relieved from them; and the calmness of a good conscience exempts him from all moral suffering.

الفلسفات المادّية لم تر الكوكب سوى صخرة كبيرة يمكن تفتيتها وحفرها وردمها واستغلالها وتدميرها وبيعها بثلاثين من الفضّة، ولم ترى الإنسان سوى قوّة عاملة يمكن التسلّق على أكتافه لملىء الجيوب وتعبئة الغرور. الفلسفات المادّية تسخر منّا إن قلنا أن المكان الذي نعيش فيه هو بيتنا المقدّس وأمّنا الكبرى التي نولد من رحمها ونعود إلى ترابها بعد الممات.

الفلسفة المادّية قالت لنا أن تطلّعنا نحو الأرض بحثاً عن الحبّ هو سخافة، وأن تطلّعنا نحو السماء بحثاً عن الحكمة هو خرافة. قالت أن تطلّعنا إلى داخلنا للبحث عن حقيقة هو مضيعة للوقت، وأن تطلّعنا نحو جيوبنا، نحو أحزابنا وقادتنا وأيقوناتنا وشاشاتنا الباردة هو كلّ الإفادة… الأمر الوحيد الذي أضعناه في كلّ ذلك كان ذاتنا وفطرتنا وحكمتنا وحقيقتنا الأولى…

In a mother’s womb were two babies. One asked the other: “Do you believe in life after delivery?” The other replied, “Why, of course. There has to be something after delivery. Maybe we are here to prepare ourselves for what we will be later.” “Nonsense” said the first. “There is no life after delivery. What kind of life would that be?” The second said, “I don’t know, but there will be more light than here. Maybe we will walk with our legs and eat from our mouths. Maybe we will have other senses that we can’t understand now.” The first replied, “That is absurd. Walking is impossible. And eating with our mouths? Ridiculous! The umbilical cord supplies nutrition and everything we need. But the umbilical cord is so short. Life after delivery is to be logically excluded.” The second insisted, “Well I think there is something and maybe it’s different than it is here. Maybe we won’t need this physical cord anymore.” The first replied, “Nonsense. And moreover if there is life, then why has no one ever come back from there? Delivery is the end of life, and in the after-delivery there is nothing but darkness and silence and oblivion. It takes us nowhere.” “Well, I don’t know,” said the second, “but certainly we will meet Mother and she will take care of us.” The first replied “Mother? You actually believe in Mother? That’s laughable. If Mother exists then where is She now?” The second said, “She is all around us. We are surrounded by her. We are of Her. It is in Her that we live. Without Her this world would not and could not exist.” Said the first: “Well I don’t see Her, so it is only logical that She doesn’t exist.” To which the second replied, “Sometimes, when you’re in silence and you focus and you really listen, you can perceive Her presence, and you can hear Her loving voice, calling down from above.” - Útmutató a Léleknek

There is a bench in the back of my garden shaded by Virginia creeper, climbing roses, and a white pine where I sit early in the morning and watch the action. Light blue bells of a dwarf campanula drift over the rock garden just before my eyes. Behind it, a three-foot stand of aconite is flowering now, each dark blue cowl-like corolla bowed for worship or intrigue: thus its common name, monkshood. Next to the aconite, black madonna lilies with their seductive Easter scent are just coming into bloom. At the back of the garden, a hollow log, used in its glory days for a base to split kindling, now spills white cascade petunias and lobelia. I can't get enough of watching the bees and trying to imagine how they experience the abundance of, say, a blue campanula blosssom, the dizzy light pulsing, every fiber of being immersed in the flower. ...Last night, after a day in the garden, I asked Robin to explain (again) photosynthesis to me. I can't take in this business of _eating light_ and turning it into stem and thorn and flower...I would not call this meditation, sitting in the back garden. Maybe I would call it eating light. Mystical traditions recognize two kinds of practice: _apophatic mysticism_, which is the dark surrender of Zen, the Via Negativa of John of the Cross, and _kataphatic mysticism_, less well defined: an openhearted surrender to the beauty of creation. Maybe Francis of Assissi was, on the whole, a kataphatic mystic, as was Thérèse of Lisieux in her exuberant momemnts: but the fact is, kataphatic mysticism has low status in religious circles. Francis and Thérèse were made, really made, any mother superior will let you know, in the dark nights of their lives: no more of this throwing off your clothes and singing songs and babbling about the shelter of God's arms.When I was twelve and had my first menstrual period, my grandmother took me aside and said, 'Now your childhood is over. You will never really be happy again.' That is pretty much how some spiritual directors treat the transition from kataphatic to apophatic mysticism.But, I'm sorry, I'm going to sit here every day the sun shines and eat this light. Hung in the bell of desire.

When we retire at night, we constructively review our day. Were we resentful, selfish, dishonest or afraid? Do we owe an apology? Have we kept something to ourselves which should be discussed with another person at once? Were we kind and loving toward all? What could we have done better? Were we thinking of ourselves most of the time? Or were we thinking of what we could do for others, of what we could pack into the stream of life? But we must be careful not to drift into worry, remorse or morbid reflection, for that would diminish our usefulness to others. After making our review we ask God’s forgiveness and inquire what corrective measures should be taken.On awakening let us think about the twenty-four hours ahead. We consider our plans for the day. Before we begin, we ask God to direct our thinking, especially asking that it be divorced from self-pity, dishonest or self-seeking motives. Under these conditions we can employ our mental faculties with assurance, for after all God gave us brains to use. Our thought-life will be placed on a much higher plane when our thinking is cleared of wrong motives.In thinking about our day we may face indecision. We may not be able to determine which course to take. Here we ask God for inspiration, an intuitive thought or a decision. We relax and take it easy. We don’t struggle. We are often surprised how the right answers come after we have tried this for a while.What used to be the hunch or the occasional inspiration gradually becomes a working part of the mind. Being still inexperienced and having just made conscious contact with God, it is not probable that we are going to be inspired at all times. We might pay for this presumption in all sorts of absurd actions and ideas. Nevertheless, we find that our thinking will, as time passes, be more and more on the plane of inspiration. We come to rely upon it. We usually conclude the period of meditation with a prayer that we be shown all through the day what our next step is to be, that we be given whatever we need to take care of such problems. We ask especially for freedom from self-will, and are careful to make no request for ourselves only. We may ask for ourselves, however, if others will be helped. We are careful never to pray for our own selfish ends. Many of us have wasted a lot of time doing that and it doesn’t work. You can easily see why.

InterbeingIf you are a poet, you will see clearly that there is a cloud floating in this sheet of paper. Without a cloud, there will be no rain; without rain, the trees cannot grow; and without trees, we cannot make paper. The cloud is essential for the paper to exist. If the cloud is not here, the sheet of paper cannot be here either. So we can say that the cloud and the paper inter-are. “Interbeing” is a word that is not in the dictionary yet, but if we combine the prefix “inter-” with the verb “to be,” we ha vea new verb, inter-be. Without a cloud and the sheet of paper inter-are.If we look into this sheet of paper even more deeply, we can see the sunshine in it. If the sunshine is not there, the forest cannot grow. In fact, nothing can grow. Even we cannot grow without sunshine. And so, we know that the sunshine is also in this sheet of paper. The paper and the sunshine inter-are. And if we continue to look, we can see the logger who cut the tree and brought it to the mill to be transformed into paper. And wesee the wheat. We now the logger cannot exist without his daily bread, and therefore the wheat that became his bread is also in this sheet of paper. And the logger’s father and mother are in it too. When we look in this way, we see that without all of these things, this sheet of paper cannot exist.Looking even more deeply, we can see we are in it too. This is not difficult to see, because when we look at a sheet of paper, the sheet of paper is part of our perception. Your mind is in here and mine is also. So we can say that everything is in here with this sheet of paper. You cannot point out one thing that is not here-time, space, the earth, the rain, the minerals in the soil, the sunshine, the cloud, the river, the heat. Everything co-exists with this sheet of paper. That is why I think the word inter-be should be in the dictionary. “To be” is to inter-be. You cannot just be by yourself alone. You have to inter-be with every other thing. This sheet of paper is, because everything else is.Suppose we try to return one of the elements to its source. Suppose we return the sunshine to the sun. Do you think that this sheet of paper will be possible? No, without sunshine nothing can be. And if we return the logger to his mother, then we have no sheet of paper either. The fact is that this sheet of paper is made up only of “non-paper elements.” And if we return these non-paper elements to their sources, then there can be no paper at all. Without “non-paper elements,” like mind, logger, sunshine and so on, there will be no paper. As thin as this sheet of paper is, it contains everything in the universe in it.

Interbeing: If you are a poet, you will see clearly that there is a cloud floating in this sheet of paper. Without a cloud, there will be no rain; without rain, the trees cannot grow; and without trees, we cannot make paper. The cloud is essential for the paper to exist. If the cloud is not here, the sheet of paper cannot be here either. So we can say that the cloud and the paper inter-are. “Interbeing” is a word that is not in the dictionary yet, but if we combine the prefix “inter-” with the verb “to be,” we have a new verb, inter-be. Without a cloud and the sheet of paper inter-are.If we look into this sheet of paper even more deeply, we can see the sunshine in it. If the sunshine is not there, the forest cannot grow. In fact, nothing can grow. Even we cannot grow without sunshine. And so, we know that the sunshine is also in this sheet of paper. The paper and the sunshine inter-are. And if we continue to look, we can see the logger who cut the tree and brought it to the mill to be transformed into paper. And we see the wheat. We know the logger cannot exist without his daily bread, and therefore the wheat that became his bread is also in this sheet of paper. And the logger’s father and mother are in it too. When we look in this way, we see that without all of these things, this sheet of paper cannot exist.Looking even more deeply, we can see we are in it too. This is not difficult to see, because when we look at a sheet of paper, the sheet of paper is part of our perception. Your mind is in here and mine is also. So we can say that everything is in here with this sheet of paper. You cannot point out one thing that is not here-time, space, the earth, the rain, the minerals in the soil, the sunshine, the cloud, the river, the heat. Everything co-exists with this sheet of paper. That is why I think the word inter-be should be in the dictionary. “To be” is to inter-be. You cannot just be by yourself alone. You have to inter-be with every other thing. This sheet of paper is, because everything else is.Suppose we try to return one of the elements to its source. Suppose we return the sunshine to the sun. Do you think that this sheet of paper will be possible? No, without sunshine nothing can be. And if we return the logger to his mother, then we have no sheet of paper either. The fact is that this sheet of paper is made up only of “non-paper elements.” And if we return these non-paper elements to their sources, then there can be no paper at all. Without “non-paper elements,” like mind, logger, sunshine and so on, there will be no paper. As thin as this sheet of paper is, it contains everything in the universe in it.

On the first day of November last year, sacred to many religious calendars but especially the Celtic, I went for a walk among bare oaks and birch. Nothing much was going on. Scarlet sumac had passed and the bees were dead. The pond had slicked overnight into that shiny and deceptive glaze of delusion, first ice. It made me remember sakes and conjure a vision of myself skimming backward on one foot, the other extended; the arms become wings. Minnesota girls know that this is not a difficult maneuver if one's limber and practices even a little after school before the boys claim the rink for hockey. I think I can still do it - one thinks many foolish things when November's bright sun skips over the entrancing first freeze.A flock of sparrows reels through the air looking more like a flying net than seventy conscious birds, a black veil thrown on the wind. When one sparrow dodges, the whole net swerves, dips: one mind. Am I part of anything like that?Maybe not. The last few years of my life have been characterized by stripping away, one by one, loves and communities that sustain the soul. A young colleague, new to my English department, recently asked me who I hang around with at school. "Nobody," I had to say, feeling briefly ashamed. This solitude is one of the surprises of middle age, especially if one's youth has been rich in love and friendship and children. If you do your job right, children leave home; few communities can stand an individual's most pitiful, amateur truth telling. So the soul must stand in her own meager feathers and learn to fly - or simply take hopeful jumps into the wind.In the Christian calendar, November 1 is the Feast of All Saints, a day honoring not only those who are known and recognized as enlightened souls, but more especially the unknowns, saints who walk beside us unrecognized down the millennia. In Buddhism, we honor the bodhisattvas - saints - who refuse enlightenment and return willingly to the wheel of karma to help other beings. Similarly, in Judaism, anonymous holy men pray the world from its well-merited destruction. We never know who is walking beside us, who is our spiritual teacher. That one - who annoys you so - pretends for a day that he's the one, your personal Obi Wan Kenobi. The first of November is a splendid, subversive holiday.Imagine a hectic procession of revelers - the half-mad bag lady; a mumbling, scarred janitor whose ravaged face made the children turn away; the austere, unsmiling mother superior who seemed with great focus and clarity to do harm; a haunted music teacher, survivor of Auschwitz. I bring them before my mind's eye, these old firends of my soul, awakening to dance their day. Crazy saints; but who knows what was home in the heart? This is the feast of those who tried to take the path, so clumsily that no one knew or notice, the feast, indeed, of most of us.It's an ugly woods, I was saying to myself, padding along a trail where other walkers had broken ground before me. And then I found an extraordinary bouquet. Someone had bound an offering of dry seed pods, yew, lyme grass, red berries, and brown fern and laid it on the path: "nothing special," as Buddhists say, meaning "everything." Gathered to formality, each dry stalk proclaimed a slant, an attitude, infinite shades of neutral.All contemplative acts, silences, poems, honor the world this way. Brought together by the eye of love, a milkweed pod, a twig, allow us to see how things have been all along. A feast of being.

What is this Self, and how did the Shaiva philosophers of Kashmir experience It? They assert that the Self alone has absolute existence. This Self is within every human being, and in recognizing and experiencing It within ourselves, we are actually at one with the divine. What is more, the Self exists within us at all times, whether or not we recognize and experience It. As living beings we are always aware of our own existence, and the experience of existing is always present in us. Further, we never require the help of any aids in feeling our own existence. Even when we are in a state of deep dreamless sleep in which the senses and the knowing mind and intellect are no longer functioning, the Self continues to experience Itself as a witness to this state. Had the Self not existed as a witness during this time, how could we, upon awaking, recollect the void experienced in deep sleep? Thus the Self is always self-existent, self-evident, and self-conscious, and is Itself Its own proof.Shaiva philosophers, relying on their experiences of deep revelation (turya) during meditation, assert that the Self is Consciousness, and that Consciousness is actually a kind of stirring. It is not physical or psychic in nature, but it is described as a spiritual stir or urge. All living beings feel in themselves this urge in the form of a will to know and to do, and so we are always inclined toward knowing and doing. We can recognize this urge in all forms of life, even in a healthy newborn baby, or in a chick just hatched out of an egg.Knowing, the first urge, is itself an action, or something we do. The act of doing, the second urge, cannot occur without knowing. Yet neither of them is possible without willing. Willing is a sort of extroverted stirring of the above mentioned natural and subtle urge of Consciousness (Sivadrsti, I.9, 10, 24, 25).This stirring appears as a vibrative volition known in Kashmir Shaivism as spanda. It is neither a physical vibration like sound or light, nor mental movement like desire, disgust, or passion. Rather, it is the spiritual stirring of Consciousness whose essential nature is a simultaneous inward and outward vibration. The inward and outward movements of spanda shine as subjective and objective awareness of I-ness and this-ness respectively. The inward stirring shines as the subject, the Self, the transcendental experience of the pure “I”, while the outward stirring illuminates the object, the other, the immanent “that-ness” and “this-ness” of phenomena. Because of this double-edged nature of spanda, the pure Self is experienced in both its transcendental and immanent aspects by yogins immersed in the state of Self-revelation (turya).Beyond turya, one can experience the state of Paramasiva, known as pure Consciousness (turiyatita). Paramasiva, the Ultimate, is that Self illuminated within us by the glowing awareness of Its own pure Consciousness. There It shines as “I”, which transcends the concepts of both transcendence and immanence. It is “I” and “I” alone. It is the infinite and absolutely perfect monistic “I”, without any sense of “this-ness” at all. Shaivism uses the term samvit to describe this pure “I”. Samvit consists of that superior luminosity of pure Consciousness, which is known as prakasa and as its Self-awareness, known as vimarsa. The “I”, existing as samvit and samvit alone, is absolutely pure ptentiality, and is the real Self of every living being. Samvit is not the egoistic “I”. The egoistic “I” revolves around four aspects of our being: (1) deha, the gross physical body, (2) buddhi, the fine mental body, (3) prana, the subtler life force, and (4) sunya (the void of dreamless sleep), the most subtle form of finite, individual consciousness.

رغم أن درجة تحضّرنا ومعرفتنا اليوم تفوق كل الأجيال الإنسانية السابقة، إلا أننا نعيش أزمة هوية ووعي غير مسبوقة في التاريخ. يمكننا القول بسهولة ان الجيل الذي يعيش اليوم هو أكثر الأجيال المأزومة في تاريخ البشرية… نحن الجيل الوحيد الذي توصّل إلى القدرة التكنولوجية التي تخوّله القضاء على الكوكب برمّته، والجيل الوحيد الذي صعد إلى كواكب أخرى وبحث عن الله وعن مخلوقات أخرى عليها، والجيل الوحيد الذي نقّب باطن الأرض ليكتشف عظام أسلافه ناقضاً بذلك آلاف السنين من الأنبياء والكتب المقدّسة، والجيل الوحيد الذي يخلق الآلهة من كل شيء حوله ويميتها كل يوم أربعون مرّة. رغم ذلك، نحن الجيل الأكثر إلحاحاً – وقلقاً – في بحثه عن إجابة على سؤاله الأكثر جوهرية: لماذا كلّ هذا الوجود يا ترى؟ من نحن ككائنات؟ وبحقّ السماء، ما الذي نفعله هنا على هذا الكوكب الأزرق؟

المقدّس، مهما كان تعريفنا له، هو أعظم بكثير من تجارب بائسة في التاريخ. المقدّس هي أنتِ وأنا وكل موجود وهي اللغز الذي يحرّك كل الوجود. هي دفء شمس الصباح وهي غموض الليل والهمسة العابرة مع الرياح. هي ذاك اللحن الشجي والترنيمة التي تُتلى من دون كلمات، فهي الصمت وهي صوته. هي قلب هذا الوجود ونوره وعقله الأسمى. هي السبب الأوّل، وهي النتيجة. هي المُراقب الهامس الذي لا حدّ له أو بداية أو نهاية،. المقدّس هي كلّ هذا ولا شيء منه، هي كلّ شيء ولا شيء بذاته، هي في كل شيء وكل شيء منها، هي المعلوم أمام ناظرنا والمجهول الذي لا ندركه بحواسنا، هي الواحد وهي الكلّ… هي أشياء كثيرة لا تحتكرها صفحات كتاب ولا أفكار بشر… هي كل ما نعرف أن نعبّر عنه وهي ما لا نجد كلمات أو صورة لوصفها… هي كل هذا وأكثر… فكيف لنا أن ننفيها من ذاتنا وهي ذاتنا؟ كيف لنا أن ننفيها من هذا العالم وهي جسد هذا العالم وروحه؟

ស្មារតី និង សម្ភារៈ ៖ ការរីកចម្រើនសព្វបែបបយ៉ាងត្រូវតែធ្វើយ៉ាងណាឲ្យផ្នែកស្មារតី និងសម្ភារៈដើរទន្ទឹមគ្នា។ បើរីកចម្រើនតែផ្នែកណាមួយ គឺគេចមិនរួចពីវិបត្តិ ព្រោះផ្នែកមួយទៀតនឹងទាញត្រឡប់ថយក្រោយវិញមិនខាន ឩទាហរណ៍ បុគ្គលដែលមានលុយច្រើនដោយចៃដន្យ(ដូចជាត្រូវឆ្នោត ទទួលមរតក) ហើយពុំមានបញ្ញាគ្រប់គ្រាន់ដើម្បីរក្សា វានឹងរលាយអស់ទៅវិញ ឬបុគ្គលមានបញ្ញា តែមិនបានយកទៅប្រើឲ្យកើតប្រយោជន៍ បញ្ញាដែលមានក៏គ្មានតម្លៃ។ការដឹកនាំដែលតម្រង់ទៅលើផ្នែកសម្ភារៈ តែមិនបានអភិវឌ្ឍផ្នែកស្មារតី នោះនឹងមិនអាចគង់វង្សយូរអង្វែងឡើយ។ ផ្ទុយទៅវិញ បើគេអាចយកឈ្នះផ្នែកស្មារតីបាន គេនឹងអាចយកឈ្នះផ្នែកសម្ភារៈបាន។ ខ្ញុំសូមសរសើរវីរជនបីនាក់ដែលអាចធ្វើបែបនេះបាន គឺ មហាត្មៈ គន្ធី នេលសាន់ ម៉ាន់ដេឡា និង ហូជីមិញ។ ពួកគាត់គ្មានទ្រព្យសម្បត្តិអ្វីច្រើនទេ ទ្រព្យសម្បត្តិរបស់គាត់ គឺស្មារតីប្រជាជន ហើយទ្រព្យសម្បត្តិទាំងនោះចាយមិនចេះអស់ទេ រាប់ពាន់ឆ្នាំទៀត ក៏មិនបាត់ទៅណា កាន់តែយូរកាន់តែកើន។ តើពេលណាទៅទើបខ្មែរយើងអាចរកឃើញ មហាវីរជនដូចពួកគាត់ទាំងនោះ?

Oткриће психологије, до кога је дошло на Западу, било jeрезултат разочарања западног човека, тј. последица одбацивања ипренебрегавања читавог подвижничког Предања Цркве. За западногчовека, отуђеног од исихастичкоподвижничког предања, психологија јепредстављала право чудо. Међутим, психологија за Православље нијеникакво чудо. Да живе у наше време, Оци би се чудили над нечим другим– над човековом фасцинираношћу психологијом. Баш као што исавремени подвижници, тј. савремени Оци – који искуствено познају сваунутарња стања душе човекове, како лукавштине ђаволове и палост“старога човека”, тако и дејство благодатних енергија Божјих – сматрајуоткрића психологије релативно незанимљивим. Кажем, незанимљивим,зато што је осредње знање од мале важности за оног ко је примиосавршено знање. Колико се божанска мудрост разликује од људскемудрости, толико се и православна психотерапија разликује одхуманистичке психотерапије. Чега занимљивог за човека који живи идоживљава Божју љубав – ту једину савршену љубав, ту“богосједињујућу и свеобуимајућу силу”, то “иступљење ума”, ту“разбуктаност духа”, ту “огњену и неподносиву чежњу и жеђ” – можебити у открићима о острашћеној и онечишћеној “љубави”, која нијеништа друго до пад љубави и идол? Зато и Оци наших дана, који својимживотом пројављују свецело искуство Цркве, сматрају безначајнимнаводно “просветљујућа” открића савремене психологије.