What Thoughts May Come

The following idea came up during a discussion this week. We were reading a quote that said "at the hour of the soul's separation from the body", and someone asked how could the soul separate from the if it's not really in the body, but only associated with it. Why would the Writings use the term separation?

Written: 2009/04/12 03:44 AM Location: AcademyLand Apts, #5, True Blue, Grenada, West Indies I've been thinking about why pursuing a spiritual life can be so difficult, and I think I can boil it down now to one, core issue: > Our needs are complex, but our desires are basic. That is: although our essential needs are very simple -- such as nearness to God -- by this selfsame token they are complex. Meanwhile, our desires are exceedingly basic, requiring constant training and attention to raise them to a higher standard.

It strikes me how earnestly many of us strive for ultimate acceptance. I see it in people's words and actions; in self-recrimination; especially in hopes and dreams. Most commonly there is an effort, according to some plan, to "reconfigure" ourselves to match an idea of perfection. It's thought if we attain this longed for state -- whether it be clarity of mind or heart, an act of greatness, a sublime moment of complete resignation -- that God will nod His head, and something may occur to make us whole again. Considering the extent of work involved -- to such minute degree as how one thinks during prayer, or sits, or envisions God -- it occurs to me the real key is not one of change. Rather, the answer to the unsolvable conundrum is to realize, deeply, fully, in both mind and heart and with real faith: that God's grace far exceeds our gratitude. He is a better Host than we are guests. "No man that seeketh Us will We ever disappoint." A child does not convince his parent to love him; his foolish words and deeds only increase the flow. When this gate unlocks, a river of mercy pours into our castigated hearts. And I believe *this* is the time to seek perfection of character. Not because it stands between us and heaven, but as fulfillment. Michaelangelo did not seek ready-formed blocks of marble, but rough, unhewed ones. He already knew what the stone contained. And at the moment the bond formed between master and ingredient, a long process of refinement began so its beauty might shine out. We are all rough and unmade stones as well. Should we form ourselves into an idea of what is best, and then present ourselves to our Maker? Or should we submit entirely to His hand; let His words trace their impression upon our grain; and thus gradually, through a process of deep communion and cleansing, reveal what luster lay beneath.

I live in a part of the world where I can mostly take freedom for granted. And I think it fair to say that this is how it should be, everywhere. As I read the speeches of the Romans and the Greeks, I see how much they loved the idea, and the promise, of freedom. The framework of America builds on this message of hope, believing that the souls thrive best when they have room to go. I think even that some American teenagers wouldn't believe that freedom barely exists in some parts of the world. It's the twenty-first century after all; wasn't that all a thing of the past? But for many, the lack of basic freedoms -- even something as primary as one's belief in God -- still prevails to this generation. Case in point are my fellow Bahá'ís in the Middle East and thereabouts. My wife's family fled persecution to become refugees. Can you believe she couldn't even pursue a medical school education while living in her own country? [^1] Sadly, such persecutions are as fresh as the past two weeks. It seems that the Yemenese government has detained a Bahá'í family for deporation back to Iran, the very country and government they left in hope of greater freedoms elsewhere. You can [read the news article here][]. Nor is this all that remote of an incident, since one of the people being deported is the father of my aunt's friend. I'm posting this notice to get the word out there, since many citizens of these governments simply don't know what's going on. Their media just doesn't report it. But we who live in the land of freedom can. [read the news article here]: http://www.news.bahai.org/story/651 [^1]: If it seems incredible, [read this account by Ahmad Batebi][], who describes his misadventures with the repressive tactics of the Iranian regime. [read this account by Ahmad Batebi]: http://www.iranian.com/main/2008/freedom-all

I have come to believe that all knowledge and understanding derives from a single Point, and that this Point is so complete, and yet so rarefied, that although it smacks us in the face at every moment, it remains unperceived. Bahá'u'lláh wrote: > Say: My creatures are even as the leaves of a tree. They proceed from the > tree, and depend upon it for their existence, yet remain oblivious of their > root and origin. We draw such similitudes for the sake of Our discerning > servants that perchance they may transcend a mere plant-like level of > existence and attain unto true maturity in this resistless and immovable > Cause. Say: My creatures are even as the fish of the deep. Their life > dependeth upon the water, and yet they remain unaware of that which, by the > grace of an omniscient and omnipotent Lord, sustaineth their very existence. > Indeed, their heedlessness is such that were they asked concerning the water > and its properties, they would prove entirely ignorant. Thus do We set > forth comparisons and similitudes, that perchance the people may turn unto > Him Who is the Object of the adoration of the entire creation.[^1] I think the human mind cannot contain this Point, since there exist no human concepts concerning its nature. I also believe, however, that the soul can know it -- and know it intimately -- to the extent that you would recognize it without hesitation, no matter how strange its form or appearance. Such as He describes here: > Each and every thing, however small, would be to him a revelation, leading > him to his Beloved, the Object of his quest. So great shall be the > discernment of this seeker that he will discriminate between truth and > falsehood even as he doth distinguish the sun from shadow. If in the > uttermost corners of the East the sweet savours of God be wafted, he will > assuredly recognize and inhale their fragrance, even though he be dwelling > in the uttermost ends of the West. He will likewise clearly distinguish all > the signs of God -- His wondrous utterances, His great works, and mighty > deeds -- from the doings, words and ways of men, even as the jeweller who > knoweth the gem from the stone, or the man who distinguisheth the spring > from autumn and heat from cold. When the channel of the human soul is > cleansed of all worldly and impeding attachments, it will unfailingly > perceive the breath of the Beloved across immeasurable distances, and will, > led by its perfume, attain and enter the City of Certitude.[^2] If this life is a place of color and form, then the Point of all knowledge is that Light which, through reflection off of various objects, bestows on the world those very colors. If all human knowledge and wisdom is like a wonderful, intricate tapestry, yet it only has beauty because of that Light shining upon it. If the tapestry were placed in a cave devoid of the Light, it would appear no different from the surrounding walls of stone. Whenever a person has discovered this Light, the meaning and reality of the various colors is revealed; the entire spectrum makes sense, and is seen to relate back to its Origin. Nor can the color's brilliance be confused with the objects which reflects it. It's like in the Seven Valleys where He wrote: > It is clear to thine Eminence that all the variations which the wayfarer in > the stages of his journey beholdeth in the realms of being, proceed from his > own vision. We shall give an example of this, that its meaning may become > fully clear: Consider the visible sun; although it shineth with one radiance > upon all things, and at the behest of the King of Manifestation bestoweth > light on all creation, yet in each place it becometh manifest and sheddeth > its bounty according to the potentialities of that place.[^3] If the Sun is the origin of all colors and form, and if the world of creation is known only through Its Rays, then to adore the Sun is to find all knowledge wrapped up within it, like the many colors that exist in the spectrum of the Sun's light. But as I said, the mind cannot do this, since it knows things only through color and form. The soul, on the other hand, is a thing of the Light itself -- an emanation from that very Sun -- so it can learn the language of Light, which then illumines all the possibilities of color. This Light, this spiritual essence which dawns on reality through the Being of the Manifestations of God, reflects throughout time resulting in the creation of society and the generation of human understanding. To know Them is to know the origin of all things, and to disregard Them is to render the various wonders of the universe an impenetrable mystery. [^1]: Summons of the Lord of Hosts, para.76 [^2]: Kitáb-i-Íqán, p.197 [^3]: Valley of Unity

Dear God, I am sorry if in the past I have limited our relationship. I'm not used to the way things should be between us. You could say it's all new for me, my soul just being created and such. There are a few things it's taking me a long time to learn. For example, I keep forgetting how good You are. I think it's because Your goodness exceeds my understanding, so I see some of the things You do as cruelty at first. It leads me to imagine You as fickle, mean-spirited -- even petty at times. That is why, when I call on You, I don't always expect an answer. I even assume you ignore me most of the time. I can't think of one friend who would treat me this badly, but I expect it of You. I've entirely forgotten how good You are, and I'm sorry about that. You gave me existence for free, and the ability to work, and the power to appreciate and take advantage of life. But I still complain about what wasn't made free, or isn't perfect, or doesn't match my understanding. Give a starving man a fish and he eats; give a sated man a fish, and he wonders what else you've got. You created me with so many riches, I fear I keep waiting for what's in Your other hand... Lastly, I apologize for putting a name to what You are. This, more than anything else, has limited our relationship. Mathematicians write Infinity as a symbol so it can fit in their equations, just as I use "God" to fit You in my mind. But I've forgotten that You have no end. I try so hard to squeeze you into my mind and my heart -- to eke out a drop of what You are that I can call my own -- that I keep forgetting about the power and the beauty and the untold depths of the Ocean. I confuse myself by what I know of You, and for that, again, I'm sorry. When my parents didn't give me everything I wanted, I often screamed that it was so unfair. How sorely did I fail to perceive their love in those limitations. Yours (quite literally), John

A mirror cannot capture the light of the sun, nor can words -- but for a moment -- contain all that a heart may feel. Written for my wife Nasim on her birthday yesterday.

This entry is dedicated to my friend Sina, considering how many times we've pondered this subject together. The question of right and wrong has always burdened the religious mind. Some consume most of their energy seeking to toe an invisible line that, to them, guards salvation. But I have come to believe that while righteousness fully deserves our attention, it does not deserve our focus. To explore this idea further, I offer an analogy. Today I was driving on the freeway down to Phoenix from Flagstaff. As I drove, I noticed the lines on the road, the traffic signals, and the signs for speed and services. I was always aware of these things -- even when I wasn't aware of them -- because for each and every moment of that three hour drive I had to stay within lines not too much wider than my own car. Such a narrow path demands constant, considerable attention. But the fact was, once I set myself on that course I largely ignored these restrictions. My focus was on the beauty of the day; on my thoughts; on the feel of driving which I enjoy so much. The "rules" had my attention, but my memory of the trip has nothing to do with the rules I followed. If I had spent the whole trip angonizing over the exact distance I was from each lane, over my exact speed, over the exact moment when I signaled to switch lanes -- people would not reward me for my exactitude, but would think I had a mental disorder. In fact, I bet I was far from "perfect" in my observance of every rule. However, *the aim was to safeguard my journey, not judge my performance*. I think the "rules of the road" are like the rules of life. Religion sets out a path of spiritual fulfillment and tells us how to successively traverse that path. Now, I could completely ignore all these rules; I might even get away with it for a while, but sooner or later it would lead to ruin, just as it would in my car. There is value to following these laws, even if I don't enjoy them as much as I would careening along at 120mph. And if all God had wanted was a group of souls to go from point A to point B, it would have been more efficient just to create them all at B, safe and content. But since we have this life ahead of us, there must be a greater wisdom in traveling than there is in arriving. It's like our joyful memories of childhood: they are not memories of finally reaching adulthood, but of how fun it was to be kid! Who we are is not a distinct, end product, but the sum of all those moments of slow and steady growth. The journey makes us; the goal was in the traveling itself. We follow the lines on the road to avoid a crash; we stay on the road so we can travel at high speeds and avoid damage; we stop at traffic lights to avoid collision with other travelers: All of these details deserve the utmost attention and consideration, but not a single one of them deserves our focus. Life is much more than just what we do or how: it's in the flavor, the experience and the effect. The real question is: where are these rules taking us? What is the goal of righteousness? What fruit is to be had from a life lived rightly? One Sufi poet said it thus, writing as if quoting God, saying: > "O handful of earth! If I had not heaven for recompense and hell for > punishment, would you ever think of me? If there were neither light nor > fire, would you ever think of me? But since I merit supreme respect you > must adore me without hope or fear; and yet, if you were never upheld by > hope or fear would you ever think of me? Since I am your Lord, you should > worship me from the depths of your heart. Reject all that which is not I, > burn it to ashes and cast the ashes to the wind of excellence." The rules of morality do demand continued obedience, but even as important to success as such rules may be, once the end is accomplished they live on only in the fact of success itself. Their own substance is forgotten. Does the virtuoso remember how he keyed the piano? His soul is home only to the music, and all else a required means to that end.

Whenever I have thirsted though my tongue sought water my soul sought for this. Whenever I have yearned though my dreams dreamt of futures my soul dreamt of this. Whenever I have labored though my efforts aimed higher my soul aimed at this. Whenever I have swooned though my heart longed for beauty my soul longed for this. Experience is a gilt onion. I peel it back, layer by layer, and always I find this. This is the purpose. This is the meaning. This is the intent. Perhaps you wonder what I mean? In truth, you wonder about this.

Edited: 01/03/2009 The humble understand that hell is their proper abode and they measure their worth in grains of ash. Were it not for the questioning of others, they could not bear the impudence of speech. The clothes on their backs are borrowed; their belongings, a momentary indulgence. Their own names are a token of mercy, and the dust they tread, a constant reproof. For the humble see themselves as they would be: were it not for the mercy of God's grace. Yet seeing themselves as handiworks of the Beloved -- and knowing perfection proceeds from perfection -- The gnat begins to flap his eagle's wings! the kitten lets out a lion's roar! the ant gallops on the field of battle! and the drop merges with the deep, wide ocean! The wretched one looks to himself, sees past himself -- finds the fabric of which he is made -- and the Tailor of that human garment. Should a man fashioned of dust make any claims? Can the mind, whose own workings are mystery, assert the right to unfold Mystery? Our tongues were fashioned by neither hand nor art; it behooves us to ask the Maker of their proper use. Humility is when a pupil seeing himself as pupil: submissive and quiet before the Teacher's call. As dust, we know the earth to be our home, from which we arose, to which we return. As His, we know Paradise to be our destiny. "And now do I say, `Verily we are from God, and to Him shall we return.'" A drop of ink has little reason to boast, should the poet's stroke immortalize a verse. For the drop knows: even as they praise him, their accolades belong to Another.