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Going Into The Silence
To Share Or Not To Share?
I think about a man’s offer to be a room mate and I realize I don’t want to share my living space with anyone. Not because he’s a man who may have ulterior motives.
A lady friend had an idea to move in with me also, and the same thoughts came to me as with the man.
I like sitting in the silence. Talking seems senseless to me, like chatter, like the sound of the freeway outside my window, it has to be tuned out to hear the silence.
This world is cold, harsh and uncompromising in what is offered. The silence is warm, embracing and all knowing.
Here, we are commissioned to keep on keeping on, engaging in activities which lose all meaning just until we can return to the silence where the one becomes the many and the many become the one. There, the direction given is always the same: To await for God to take the final step.
Looking with God at the life we see in all directions at once. A series of holy moments are viewed throughout the drudgery and the struggle. Slowly the value of linear time walk becomes glimpsed, only in the holy instants.
Adding up the holy instants we can view the sum total of the value of living. The value of living becomes a thing of how bravely you can die in trusting God to keep His promise. His/Her promise. God has no gender.
Spirit is One. God is One. God is One on One. I view the beggar on the street; I see God peering from his hopeful eyes, that you will remember Him. I say to him from the silence, “you will be with me in paradise, I promise.”
Then I know I have already returned to God, for I speak as God would, but more than this, I feel what I say is true, for I believe it and trust it, that it is so, and I await God/Spirit to take the final step.
The beggar has taken my last crust of bread and so I feel hunger now. I retreat to my living space where I die once more eagerly, faithfully and I joyfully meet the silence and it quells my own hunger as I perceive the beggar is able to carry on because of my gift. I am satisfied then and partake of his joy that God met God in one single holy instant and both were satisfied, for we both denied that hunger need be and we joined in the truth for the holy instant.
The holy instants accumulate over the life if we can recognize them. It is wherever love was felt in the smallest of measure. It was not large or small love offerings, for love expressed is always maximal in it’s effect and eternal in it’s cause and is of God. God who is of Pure Love, does not know of suffering as a condition for his offspring to endure.
Spirit is One. God is One. The intelligence that is God observes the children making mahem in a dream world where God awaits in the silence to gently awaken them from bad dreams.
There is a place where there is no hunger. No toil. It is in the silence of a harmonic boom, where speaking cast you back into the nightmare. You alone chose to challenge the truth of such a nightmare with free will. You become responsible that you made it so and can choose to unmake it so.
Then God can take the final step while you are dying to the world. God/Spirit is the last straw a dying man will grasp as it should be. God is the Alpha and the Omega.
Although God is not enjoined in the nightmare, God is in the silence, if you enter it of your choosing. This world is noisy. God is in the silence.
No, I do not want a room mate for I cannot be interrupted when I enter the silence. The gap which is between this world and the silence is too great. When I am forever attuned to the silence, I shall walk in it and hear nothing but the silence although voices will be as usual chattering in unison. Spirit will be with me as usual and cause those who would waste my last days here to not find me. Only those whom Spirit sends to me will find me in the darkness, for I will have a word for them that is given to me and there will be yet another of those holy instants to be grateful for!
At last, at last I am dying to the world as I was told I would one day. I have mixed feelings of course. I am only human, just as J was human, a carpenter who studied deep into the night, even as I do. We are One. Yes, my elder brother and I are the same. My own blood I would spill if he asked me to.
Of course, he asked me not to suffer our parting for awhile, but he knew I would not be able to stop suffering my own choices. Not until I had found the greatness of the silence where all my dreams were fulfilled in one fell swoop, a droplet of his love for me.
He has come in the night and congratulated me that I have fulfilled the plan I had originally intended. He also said I would not be able to share my joy of completion over this feat, for each must enter the silence of their own choice, just as each must die on their own with only the beseeching words of family upon their ears, and in some cases a holy instant will occur if suddenly one of the members slips into the silence and knows what to say. So I strive to be fair in my accessment of this world, despite I see very few taking responsibility for what they have made here.
There is still time. Time is all we really have. There is still time to stop blaming someone else for the suffering you see around you.
I pray to gain the strength to stop this ugly chatter of passing the buck. If I am angry, there is no justification.
It's so quiet here
When it's finished, it's just finished
I will not justify it, God will not justify it. There is no need to say what has already been said and add to the noise. The silence will lend direction, but justice and vengeance is mine so saith the Lord, and this is what the silence says, that it is I who has made the world to suffer.
I must feel everything a human feels. Then I will be wholly experienced here and graduate. I run from nothing then, and especially not death, which is but my own release from confinement.
I turn over rocks to find love here and I cannot fathom that I am different from anyone else in my desire to discover truth, beauty, love, and not just the appearance, but the holy instants I have spoke of, where the moment was complete in its self, holy to mean whole, wholly real. Holy to mean exquisitely sacred, of and belonging to not self, but to God.
No, no room mates. My time is too special, too sacredly wonderful, too much like splendor in the grass to share.
Or to be able to share. You all have had holy instants. Perhaps over a fine dinner with a friend such can occur; not always, but when it does, it becomes a memory imprint of the most delicate and fragile beauty that can be taken into eternity with you, wherever you go. A moment of feeling supremely alive and filled with the glow of love and friendly persuasions, close to bliss, close enough to satisfy, yet still of this world enough to ground you into the meaning of life.
You may have saved someone’s life. This will be brought to mind upon death also, yet the act will not be counted as a holy instant if gratitude was expected in return from the deed, for then there was a price of love given.
And in such case it was a business deal only, not a holy instant.
It is such moments I speak of, that the counselors will remind the life reviewer of upon death of the body. These will be spoken of as true accomplishments, if what you did, whether in thought or deed had no demand of payment required. No mention will be made of your successful career or the children whom you brought into life perhaps. But the moments will be displayed for you, just in case you forgot. And it’s easy to forget. Only the holy instants within the career will be mentioned; only the love which developed between parent and child will be mentioned as an accomplishment. If no love was developed for any in the life, this will be seen as failure within your intentions of incarnation.
You will return to rectify the failures after more training of a subjective nature.
And once more you will journey if you choose, and sometimes the choice is not really totally your own to make but you receive impetus to make things right based on further information where the failure occurred and how it may have been circumvented into a win-win.
Go ye then into that dark night kicking and screaming if you wish, but go you will for we all share that in common that death is a certainty for all. As for me I will be calmly approaching what is already familiar and welcome. A tunnel of warm quietude and an explosion of all embracing light and all around me is the “we.”
And in their eyes a welcoming glow and a statement of gladness that we have rejoined and that they were always there and we begin to remember to not forget. We toil not, nor suffer not and what we have sought has been found. We can go through the second death then which none can speak of aright.
This second death is intriguing though. It requires the utmost faith and courage to consider it; it also brings to mind the fragility of this earthly life and the gratitude for the holy instants which occurred increases considerably. To feel gratitude in such measure is also like being totally brimming with life and your cup is overflowing indeed! Cultivate such holy instants and dying becomes a piece of cake, for right now, you have everything you need, you are loved just as you are. So sayeth the grand and total silence. I believe.