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Sunday October 15, 2006: Face of God: part six (painful step forward)

          I’d just gone through a long and drawn out beating from another lifetime.  I’d gone through the emotional, gut-wrenching pain of deepest guilt.  I’d uncovered the protective psychological barriers I’d etched in my soul, to protect myself from ever enduring a similar experience.

          Still, I was reminded of that magical moment when you deliver a baby and all the memory of labor pain disappears, as if it had never existed or was too trivial to bother remembering.  So it was with lifetime lessons.  Once the lesson was realized, the pain that went before seemed to vanish.  The wonder and magic of this new awareness over-shadowed everything that led to its unveiling.

           In its place now was a sense of accomplishment, as if this single realization was my biggest step forward, my greatest achievement of many lifetimes.  My awareness opened up.  I was looking outward into countless lifetimes, seeing the effect of this one erroneous concept over and over.  And suddenly I was feeling the healing of all those lifetimes.  Pain dissolved in understanding.  Peace and calmness wove their strength into my soul.

            And my awareness opened again.  The Eck Masters surrounded me.  No longer did I see patient and anticipating smiles.  Now there were relaxed smiles and even laughter.  Some wandered past to give a pat on the back or wrap an arm around my shoulder. Some winked or nodded from a distance, their faces beaming.  As I looked out over the gathering I saw hands raised in greeting or acknowledgment.

            Wait. Back up a minute. I didn’t understand. This was a big step for me.  I had finally accepted a truth that before I’d been unable to accept.  That was my own inner victory.  What I was looking at now, however, made no sense to me.

            I turned and sought out Shiva and Kali, only to find a similar reception.  I thought of them as spiritual parents; they had always embraced me as a beloved child.  Though they remained warm and tender, the relationship had definitely changed; I was left totally confused.  It seemed as if everyone knew what was going on behind the scenes, except me, of course.

           I left the inner worlds and, returning to the everyday world, crawled into my bed.  There I lay, thinking of all I had experienced that night.  As the glow of higher states of awareness dissolved, I became aware of my physical condition and a sharp stabbing pain near the top of both feet, close to the ankles.  Odd, I thought.  Perhaps my position for meditation had been out of kilter.  Perhaps I had been longer in meditation than I realized.

           It was probably a muscle cramp.  I was familiar with cramps across the bottom of my foot.  Sometimes when I stretched the muscles out, pulling the foot backwards would trigger off cramps across the top of my foot. Those were harder to work out but they still responded to stretching or walking.  I pulled my toes downward and grimaced.

            A muscle cramp should pull beneath the surface of the skin, parallel to the bone.  This sensation was nothing like that.  My God, it felt as if someone had driven spikes through my feet.

            As soon as I said it, I rejected the whole idea as illogical.  I kept stretching through the pain, trying to understand the sensation.  It was a sharp, jagged feeling, driving downward from the upper part of my foot almost through to the other side.  Hard, sharp and jagged -- like broken bone?  Could this be a carry over from Seeka’s beating?

           Stretching only seemed to intensify the pain.  I lay quiet, trying to ignore the pain and consciously relax muscles.  Five minutes later, I decided to walk out the pain.  Maybe I could take pain medication to lessen the intensity.  I rolled out of bed and was horrified---every step was acutely painful.  I tried to relax into the pain, to stretch through the pain.  No.  Each step remained torturous.  Slowly I hobbled my way to the bathroom, supporting as much weight as possible with hands braced against the wall.  I downed two ibuprofen tablets and slowly, painfully, hobbled my way back to bed.

            This was not a muscle spasm.  That would have been walked away long before I reached the bathroom. How long would this last? How long?  It could be a psychic impression.  If so, then the longer I focused on the pain, the longer and more intense would be the experience.  I needed sleep.  Maybe if I distracted myself I could forget the foot pain long enough to fall asleep.  Chances were the memory of pain would be gone by morning.

           So I thought back to my teachers and the strange shift in our relationships. You know, there was one part of pantheism I had struggled to understand.  Suppose that I accepted the idea of being unable to comprehend the divine from a human state of awareness.  I was supposed to focus on a conceptual form of the divine.  I was to give my love and devotion to whatever godform I worshipped and that would bring me closer to the divine.

            But I had argued, if I worshipped a lesser form how would I ever come to understand or reach the divine itself?  Wouldn’t I be stuck worshipping a godform of the divine forever?  No, I had been told.  There would come a point where the godform of the divine would catapult the seeker beyond itself into the formless divine.

          Despite my belief in a formless divinity I realized I had grown used to seeing the Hindu, Buddhist, Christian and Egyptian godforms as authority figures.  I had quit trying to see beyond.  Now perhaps I was ready.  I had learned what I had to learn from them.

            The only memory that came close to matching this feeling was when I graduated from high school. From the moment of my graduation my relationship with my teachers changed.  I was not their equal.  Not by any means.  But I was no longer their student.  I might be able to go back to them for advice and support but the relationship would never be the same.  Perhaps high school was a fitting analogy.  As much as I could revel in my accomplishment, I was also aware that I had only passed the first hurtle.  This was the easy stuff, the preliminary.   Now the real work began.

Posted on Sunday, October 15, 2006 at 09:53AM by Registered CommenterThe Skeptical Mystic | CommentsPost a Comment

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