The emerging awakening of global collective consciousness has been described in various ways: some see it as The Second Coming; others as part of the 2012 agenda; others as somehow involved in the Coming Singularity.
I let each person decide on the emerging wave of global consciousness: here is a link to 'Sufi' Llewellyn Vaughan Lee in a quick video clip explaining his own take on the coming unity.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Friday, October 27, 2006
Written in the Sands
A stream, from its source in far-off mountains, passing through every kind and description of countryside, at last reached the sands of the desert. Just as it had crossed every other barrier, the stream tried to cross this one, but it found that as fast as it ran into the sand, its waters disappeared. It was convinced, however, that its destiny was to cross this desert, and yet there was no way. Now a hidden voice, coming from the desert itself, whispered: “The wind crosses the desert, and so can the stream.”
The stream objected that it was dashing itself against the sand, only getting absorbed: that the wind could fly and this was why it could cross a desert.
“By hurtling in your own accustomed way you cannot get across. You will either disappear or become a marsh. You must allow the wind to carry you over to your destination.”
But how could this happen?
“By allowing yourself to be absorbed in the wind.”
This idea was not acceptable to the stream. After all, it had never been absorbed before. It did not want to lose its individuality. And, once having lost it, how was one to know that it could ever be regained?
“The wind,” said the sand, “performs this function. It takes up water, carries it over the desert, and then lets it fall again. Falling as rain, the water again becomes a river.”
“How can I know that is true?”
“It is so, and if you do not believe it, you cannot become more than a quagmire, and even that could take many, many years; and it certainly is not the same as a stream.”
“But can I not remain the same stream that I am today?”
“You cannot in either case remain so,” the whisper said. “Your essential part is carried away and forms a stream again. You are called what you are even today because you do not know which part of you is the essential one.”
When he heard this, certain echoes began to arise in the thoughts of the stream. dimly, he remembered a state in which he - or some part of him, was it? - had been held in the arms of a wind. He also remembered - or did he? - that this was the real thing, not necessarily the obvious thing to do.
And the stream raised his vapour into the welcoming arms of the wind, which gently and easily bore it upwards and along, letting it fall softly as soon as they reached the roof of a mountain, many, many miles away. And because he had had his doubts, the stream was able to remember and record more strongly in his mind the details of the experience. He reflected, “Yes, now I have learned my true identity.”
The stream was learning. But the sands whispered: “We know, because we see it happen day after day: and because we, the sands, extend from the riverside all the way to the mountain.”
And that is why it is said: The way in which the Stream of Life is to continue on its journey is written in the Sands.
The stream objected that it was dashing itself against the sand, only getting absorbed: that the wind could fly and this was why it could cross a desert.
“By hurtling in your own accustomed way you cannot get across. You will either disappear or become a marsh. You must allow the wind to carry you over to your destination.”
But how could this happen?
“By allowing yourself to be absorbed in the wind.”
This idea was not acceptable to the stream. After all, it had never been absorbed before. It did not want to lose its individuality. And, once having lost it, how was one to know that it could ever be regained?
“The wind,” said the sand, “performs this function. It takes up water, carries it over the desert, and then lets it fall again. Falling as rain, the water again becomes a river.”
“How can I know that is true?”
“It is so, and if you do not believe it, you cannot become more than a quagmire, and even that could take many, many years; and it certainly is not the same as a stream.”
“But can I not remain the same stream that I am today?”
“You cannot in either case remain so,” the whisper said. “Your essential part is carried away and forms a stream again. You are called what you are even today because you do not know which part of you is the essential one.”
When he heard this, certain echoes began to arise in the thoughts of the stream. dimly, he remembered a state in which he - or some part of him, was it? - had been held in the arms of a wind. He also remembered - or did he? - that this was the real thing, not necessarily the obvious thing to do.
And the stream raised his vapour into the welcoming arms of the wind, which gently and easily bore it upwards and along, letting it fall softly as soon as they reached the roof of a mountain, many, many miles away. And because he had had his doubts, the stream was able to remember and record more strongly in his mind the details of the experience. He reflected, “Yes, now I have learned my true identity.”
The stream was learning. But the sands whispered: “We know, because we see it happen day after day: and because we, the sands, extend from the riverside all the way to the mountain.”
And that is why it is said: The way in which the Stream of Life is to continue on its journey is written in the Sands.
Via Seeker After Truth
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Mirrors
It is said that Reality mirrors itself... a reflection of the thoughts we process, let pass through our body - for the mind does not reside within the 'brain' alone - not the result of the complexity of neurological connections (as reductionist science is fond of thinking)...
No, the mind runs through the whole body... and thus the thoughts we attract and categorise as 'our own' affect the health of the body...
and they also affect how Reality interacts with the person.
Reality mirrors itself
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Micro-Gravity
This is a picture of a candle burning in micro-gravity.
Yet it still radiates. All things radiate, even when we feel we are in micro-gravity.
We still burn inside... creating our own colours.
Is that we burn each other, as humans?
Afraid of some annihilation...?
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Filling One's House
An old man on his deathbed called his three sons and told them:
'I can't divide all I have into three parts because I would hand over to you very few possessions. So I have decided to give all I have as an inheritance to the one of you who shows he is the cleverest and most capable. I have left a coin for each one of you on the table - take it. The one of you who buys something with which to fill the house will get everything.' The three sons left home.
The first one bought some straw but he could only fill half the house.
The second son bought bags of feathers but he couldn't fill more than the first brother.
The third son, who got the inheritance, bought just a candle...
...and he waited til night came: he lit the candle and the light filled the house.
'I can't divide all I have into three parts because I would hand over to you very few possessions. So I have decided to give all I have as an inheritance to the one of you who shows he is the cleverest and most capable. I have left a coin for each one of you on the table - take it. The one of you who buys something with which to fill the house will get everything.' The three sons left home.
The first one bought some straw but he could only fill half the house.
The second son bought bags of feathers but he couldn't fill more than the first brother.
The third son, who got the inheritance, bought just a candle...
...and he waited til night came: he lit the candle and the light filled the house.
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