Showing posts with label silence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label silence. Show all posts

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Lifted out of the body into myself

It happened to me three times. What? THAT what Plotinus calls: lifted out of the body into myself and beholding marvellous beauty. And afterwards the wonder what happened. The moment of descending.

Plotinus (around 204/5–270) in his Enneads (IV,8,1): "Many times it has happened: Lifted out of the body into myself; becoming external to all other things and self-encentered; beholding a marvellous beauty; then, more than ever, assured of community with the loftiest order; enacting the noblest life, acquiring identity with the divine; stationing within It by having attained that activity; poised above whatsoever within the Intellectual is less than the Supreme: yet, there comes the moment of descent from intellection to reasoning, and after that sojourn in the divine, I ask myself how it happens that I can now be descending (...)."

In this blog I'll share with you my first moment of  becoming One with the Universe. I wrote on my second moment of enlightenment in my blog 'Aswan. April 3th 1987'. Someday I'll share with you my third moment too. My observation on my 3 moments. They all happened abroad, in hills and near other people. The days before  I always felt that another moment was coming soon. In a way I felt pregnant with Love and Light.

Here is the report of the first. I originally wrote it in Dutch. For me my own translation  in English  feels terrible but it's the only way to share it with you.

Enlightenment ? in Poland

A frail wind blows in April. In the year of the Lord 1984. The farming landscape is hilly and green. Here and there capricious rocks. We are riding in a bus. On both sides of the road little houses which seem to me “out-of-date”. These houses seem to me little farmhouses. They look to me going to ruin, grey and dirty. These ruins are surrounded by dried up mudpools in which chicken freely walk around.

The bus in which I sit has just set itself free from the air which is so characteristic of the mining-area of Katowiche in Poland. The air appears to be dangerous and unhealthy but to me it just smells very well.

I undergo the change of colour and the change of smell. The change of a landscape full of soot-blackened flats to a green farming hilly landscape. And the change of the smell of pit-coal to “no-smell-at-all”. I get the feeling that I’m going back in time. Poland with it’s houses and people look to The Netherlands - as I am acquainted with photographs – in the ’50 of the 20th century.

The bus stops in Czestochowa. A little village in the country. I leave the bus together with my travelling mates. Through a street, which is surrouned by high stone walls, we mount to the church we travelled for. The church, the domain in the ring of stones, is the sanctuary of the black madonna. The black madonna is a Maria with a black face who is worshiped for her legendary tears – and the power which is derived from those tears I presume? She is worshipped by the desperate people from Poland in order to make life in ‘hic et nunc’ (english ‘here en now’) more bearable.

I’m a bit surprised by the huge amount of people who attend mass. The church is crowded, Very crowded. Outside still people gathering, trying to see a glimpse of the archbishop Glemmp. I’m watching it all. All those people sitting on lot of stairs. It’s as if the church cracks down by the amount of people inside it. I’m still able to walk and look at the interior of the church. I’m astonished by the calmness and resignation of the crowd of people. No one in a hurry. No one pushing. So much resignation. It’s so different than the intrusive, meddlesome and careless people of The Netherlands.

Surprised by all that I sat down on a stair, between human beings. I closed the sleaves of my long trenchcoat. Put my hands deep in the pockets of my coat. I’m getting warmer already. The scraf of wool pricks pleasantly. The scarf smells well. Suddenly, at once, I feel …! (I would better say no more.) A feeling of peace. Tolerance of me against the rest of humanity. At once I feel accepted and one with all human beings. I feel as a human being like everybody else. I feel made up out of humanity … A couple of minutes I feel un-explainable quiet and happy with a deepness I never experienced before … A couple of days the feeling burnt deep in me. I wanted to become a priest or a monk in order to propagate my enlightenment. But – as allways – time heeled the urge as if it were a wound.

I. I don’t believe in God. At least not in the God of the bible: a sort of Santa Claus who will dry up all earthly-tears, after-the-dead, in paradise. Often. Very often I’ve asked: who, what and where is God? No one wanted or better no one could give an answer to my questions. You had to believe. And I, Dutch product of anti-fasicism, could not accept the Truth without exception. I always believed with some reserve. Those reservations caused that I rejected the believe in a God of the bible. Now the believe of the God of the bible or the believe of a fascist state (which will last 1.000 years) or whatever is placed in the ‘collection of believes’. God (mono-theism) or gods (poly-theism) are a creation of groups of people. The God of the bible is no longer unique to me. As the singer Chris Rea says: “They teach us to swim but they don’t talk about the danger. They tell you the truth but they never say why.” 

The Truth and The God do not exist. What exist are: truths and gods. Both only exist in plural.

P.s. You can find the original text in Dutch here.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Aswan. April 3th 1987


Aswan. Late in the afternoon on April 3th, 1987. Old Cataract Hotel on the back. Sitting on a big red rock. Fresh wind. Sun going down. The feeling of a rock radiating its warmth. Feluccas sailing by. Noises. Sitting in the black and fertile world (ancient Egyptian 'kemet'). Looking at the other side of the river Nile, the red world of the dead (ancient Egyptian 'deshret'). Thinking about Lord Carnavon and Howard Carter. Puzzling on what's the same and different in ancient and modern day Egypt. Wondering on Tutankaten and Tutankamun, two radical and different religious names for the same physical man. Feluccas sailing by. Riverbed with water floating. The same riverbed. For ancient egyptians. For present day egyptians.

Suddenly, everything was quiet and one. The world with all its sounds and motions came to a standstill. For a few seconds I felt "...", One with the universe and humanity. For a few seconds - that seemed to last forever - everything was perfect. THAT! 

P.S. More on this from me.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Stop Talking.

... - I'm not telling you.

Silence or "..." is an underestimated activity. Yes, activity! It's the place where the mystic stops talking. It's the place where marriages are saved by not unnecessary hurting the other. It's the place where friends understand that we do not always want to talk. It's the place where new lovers find eachother's mystery and mutual attraction. 

It's the image of all the things that are not frozen, that are not experienced or that are not yet history. It's the place of thousands of possible ways you can follow. Or not. It's the place of making choises. Or not. It's the place of being active inactive.

We talk. We tweet. We buzz. We blip. Don't you need silence once in a while? I guess I think that we as species would communicate much better if we would be more silent once in a while. 

Friday, January 22, 2010

IFAQ. Letter to @BillGates : Are we asking the right questions?

A few minutes ago I wrote this letter to Bill Gates via  'mail Bill your questions'

Mister Gates,

Nice that you are on Twitter now too. I checked out your http://www.thegatesnotes.com/ Strange to read something directly from you that doesn’t come via my newspaper. Your answer on the infrequently asked question ‘Why Not Focus on Global Warming?’ puzzled me. I agree with your argument that the market has to solve our energy constraint.

My question is: are we asking the right questions?

Look to planet Earth (take 1 of the Apollo’s pictures). Did you really look? It’s a big circle in a really black background: the continents, oceans and clouds & I always hear a lot of “silence”. For me this image means: we as human species are 1; we live with all of us on 1 place in the universe we call Earth. The market will solve the energy constraint - I’ve no doubt about that - but is that all that has to be solved? Imagine 6.000.000.000 people. All of them have their energy. What next? Will there be enough food for them? Will there be enough fish, meat etc for them? Will there be enough water for them? Will there be enough clay, wood and other stuff houses are built off? Will there be enough metals and plastics to make cars, airplanes, PC’s/ lap tops, machines etc.?

To be short, from my point of view our species ‘homo sapiens’ question should be: Aren’t we polluting and depleting planet Earth (dutch ‘vervuilen’ en ‘uitputten’)? Global warming is one of the aspects of ‘polluting’. Solving the energy constraint is one of the aspects of not/ less depleting planet Earth. In our present time – from my point of view - ‘polluting’ and ‘depleting’ aren’t solved by market. For the market both of them are “externalities”.

Best regards,
@JeanD99

This was the automatically generated answer:
Thank you for your comments and questions.
Unfortunately, Bill can't answer all of the email he receives here. And, although we’re unable to use every question, we review all of the correspondence that comes in.
Thanks,
The Gates Notes Support Team

Monday, December 28, 2009

Bookreview Kawakami 'The teachers briefcase'. Lovestory: slowly as a river is fed by water in the yearly seasons

Finished reading Kawakami's book 'The Teacher’s Briefcase' (in dutch 'De tas van de leraar'). Never read a japanese novel before but if this is representative for japanese literature I'm interested. Lovely and slowly moving book. Slowly as a river is fed by water in the yearly seasons. 37-year-old office worker Tsukiko mets her former highschool teacher ('sensei' in japanese) in a pub. Sensei tells Tsukiko that he had seen her a few times before.  She had not seen him.

Slowly. Very slowly they fall in love. Mostly meeting by accident. They let time pass by in bars and restaurants.  Sometimes eating alone. Mostly eating together. Watch people.  Silence. Lots of silence. After a while she realises she is in love with Sensei. She tells him. He doesn't really respond - as readers we don't know why. She falls asleep in his arms. Tired. Very tired.

Distance. Tsukiko takes care that they don't meet by accident for months. One night she enters their favourite pub/ restaurant again, finding out that Sensei is sick. She goes to his home telling "nothing". He is "silent" as well. After a couple of days (weeks?) Sensei calls on the phone. They agree to meet again. They meet. Sensei proposes to have a "real love relation". Tsukiko agrees. After quite some time - Sensei is hesitating because he hadn't made love for a long time - they make love. Finally.

P.s. I wrote about this book before. Interested? Read this.
P.s.s. Bookreview by Janet Ashby.