The Ground of Being
From my diary. Meditation does something to you, slowly, as the flame changes the candle.
I begin to understand the holiness of objectivity.
In the space between subject and object is the Ground of Being. Here resides the One, my master, to whom I cleave. To one side is the personality, the "Michael." To the other, and towards which his gaze is directed, lies the object of his consternation. His infatuation, his fear or desire.
Objectivity is holy because it is already a movement in the direction of God. For God is everywhere that Ego-Self is not. By saying goodbye to a locus of consciousness inside the personality, you move to a more useful location.
Before, I translated objective to mean "loveless," and therefore found nothing in the idea to encourage me to move towards it. I always want heart and mind together. I may leave my mind at home and follow my heart. But I never do the opposite. I'd rather be wrong for the right reasons than right but without love. Other personalities may do the opposite and that's fine.
Now, I see that the objective space is full of love, only improved by losing it's fraught quality, it's claustrophobia when experienced inside the shell of personality. Since the personality is unavoidably aware of it's fragile nature, bound in time, it can only love what makes it feel safer. In this sense, it will eventually hate the truth, because it's truth is death.
The greatest truth that it can ever know is run from.
We've been running since our consciousness awoke. All of my work is about the stopping and the slow turning. All of my music. All of my words, and my mountain climbing. They are not special. They are the universal experience of every human, given enough time. I should say it differently: given enough experience of time to perceive the sameness of it.
To the fugitive speeding away from the law, all of the country outside the car window becomes the same.
While typing in this diary entry, and looking for a nice image for the post I stumbled upon a picture that describes this truth. A long time ago I was friends with some guys who started a band. One of those guys knew secrets about existence way beyond what I knew, anyway. I don't know how he made this album cover, or if it even is an album cover, but this is the truth. The monster approaches. But it is no monster:
There is such intelligence and compassion in the unfolding of a world as a series of contextual situations in which the personality comes to knowledge through confrontation with the objects of its thoughts.
In the end, that knowledge will propel the consciousness out of the personality towards the center space, and this motion is itself willed by the personality, who, yes!, has been enlisted in the search for truth. Led to a place by its investigations that ultimately reduces its importance to the level of a tool (though a well-loved one), it joyfully participates in the final step: the goodbye and the well-wishing.
The birth, in fact, of something new.