We have moved back from the vesica, against the vertical wall. There is a circular bench here. I, for one, need to sit down. The end of this discourse is approaching, I know, and I’m a little saddened. I turn to V and touch her hand tenderly, saying, “I’m finally understanding what this book is about.”
“Tell me,” she inquires.
“This is an invitation into presence. I see that knowing the Life of Source means developing an intimate, first-hand relationship with the entity that embodies the Now.”
“You are absolutely correct,” answers Omis. “We have brought you into this space that you may resonate with the way we live, the way Life lives us. It is an unceasing joy to participate with Source in this manner—to realize the true nature of who we are. I know that V is feeling the reverence and sincerity of our mission.”
V nods and speaks softly. “Omis, the way you arrived with us was perfect to illustrate the Life of Source. You have emerged directly out living presence, out of the space itself. If I may be poetical, it accentuates the promise of joy held in the wings of stillness.”
I smile. “V, you are a poet!”
She smiles back and continues, “Omis, we are truly blessed to have you appear again and to bring with you the vigor of creation.”
“Well said,” he continues. “Now, let me tell you about Life from the perspective of an angelan. Moreover, it will indicate how humans can begin to live more freely within themselves. What you are calling presence, I know as Life. I know it as the breath and vibration of light and flesh and texture. I know it as quality and beauty and freshness, ever renewing, always enduring. As I say these words, I know thoroughly that Life is the forming agent, the invigorating principle within them.
“When I gaze upon V’s beauty and receive her appreciation, I know that this, too, is Life at work and at play. It dances through us all, in each expression and experience of the universes, moment within moment, for eternity. In my knowing, I realize Life is present; ‘knowing’ is also Life. Consciousness is Life. Just as there is nothing that does not come from Source, there is nothing that is not Life. My being is Life. All of yours, too, is this. We are blessed, by way of a million dimensions, in each gesture and instant of this creative facility.”
Silence takes over strongly before he speaks again. “Tell me now, my human friend, what have you just written? I know you are wanting to tell us about it; and I sense that its energy wants to unfold.”
I look a little sheepish. “Well, I thought, the other day, I would just try talking directly to presence itself. You know, sort of the way we all talk—through the imagination. I’ve come to accept that presence is an entity, a being in its own right. With what you’ve just said, Omis, I now must see Life as an entity as well, the same entity. I was thinking that if conversation works for us, ‘Why wouldn’t it work for presence too?’ So, I did it; and then I wrote the conversation down.”
“What did you write?” V asks with curiosity.
“The dialogue surprised me, I have to say. I’ll just enter it here, and you can see:”
I sit with silence and feel the space.
The sensation of presence enters around me and in me.
It is alive and welcoming. I appreciate its resonance for many minutes before I start.
“May I dialogue with you?” I whisper in my mind.
“May we have a conversation?”
“Yes, we may” an answer comes, quieter than my whisper.
“Ah, that pleases me,” I sigh.
“But why is that?” replies the silent one within.
I ponder. “Because I need to know more.”
“More? More of what?” presence asks.
I wrinkle my brow and try to imagine. What indeed!
I finally answer, “More than just this silence, I guess.”
“There is no more than this,” presence says straightaway.
“Words are less than this, my child,
less than this full moment. Hear me clearly:
There is no ‘more’ of presence.
I am all and always that I am!
When words are formed around me,
they are but a tiny part of what I might be.
They form an outer edge, a crust, a temporary fence;
and thus are more subtractive from the whole
than being whole.”
I sigh, a little disappointed. I wait, but then I say, “Does that mean
I should not speak to you?”
The spacious being brings up its voice from the stillness deep,
“Go ahead and speak. Yes, you may.
Your words and mine can rightly be as pointers on our way.
Only, we must know them, as they really are:
They are the lesser part, the humbler part,
of all the Life expression in our world.”
“What are words for then?” I ask, dismayed.
“What are we doing with them here?”
“These words we use and wear
are your sensibilities and intellected dreams.
These words—of here and now—speak out from you,
though they appear to be the voice of me.”
I ask, “But are you not inside them somehow?
Could this not also be the voice you?
Can’t you be here among us in these words?”
“I can. And indeed I am.
But you may not completely, truly know me here—
in mere word or thought or sound.
For me to truly be, I must be whole!
Look not for presence to expose itself so indiscreetly,
nor in such a finite way
as a fabricated trace of forms.
It’s not for eyes to prove nor ears to fill,
the ways or means of what I really am.
To know me as I am—and that I am—you must stop!
And stop again, upon your very heart.
No longer be a speaker;
not a seeker, nor a guide;
not a leader nor a follower nor a finder be;
not a teacher nor disciple; not a devotee.
Escape your understanding and your postured mind.
Just stop and listen to the silence.
Let me in. Let me go.
Let my freedom justly rise.”
I reply, “It worries me to think of what you’ve said.
If I am to be none of those things you catalog,
what ever can I do to know you
as my essence does seem to urge?”
The precious presence—Life itself—falls down
around me in its space. Its silence shakes me to the cell.
“Be tranquil, here, in heart. You must come down
and be what is—the just and blessed will—yet even destiny.
Be calm. Be true. Be very silent and be
purely still!”
We all sit very still for a long space. Then I say, “That’s it. Not much, I suppose. But I sense there’s a lot between the lines.”
All is silent around the three of us. In the quiet air there is information—inspiration coming into form. I realize this is the ‘whole’ that presence spoke of. I don’t need to disentangle all the threads in order to be in presence. The essence is always just beyond words and conceptions. Words are forms that help us when we are uncertain. But when we are sure, no words will ever add to what is.
Time has stopped in this presence space. I simply stare into the opalescent wings of Omis, gently folded over his shoulders. V has lain herself upon his lap and cradles her head on his arm. He places a large, translucent hand upon her long, white tresses. I breathe and sit in awe. I sense and know that presence is acting in this breath.
Omis starts, “Let Life be born in you this moment and every moment. Begin again with every breath. Know that presence is the Life in you that doth begin. Always know and always rest in bliss to find yourself in such a state. Our business here is the activation of Life, fulfillment of our Source. This is the presence force: Its function is to activate.”
After a discrete pause, I comment, somewhat irreverently, “Omis, you’re sounding more like an angelan than ever.”
“We have our ways of speaking, I know.” He smiles and stares at the center of my forehead. “I now have been angelan for ten thousand of your years; time, as you are aware, shapes differently for us.”
I ask, “What more can we know and be told of presence then?”
Omis now laughs boldly, like a low rolling thunder. “What more, indeed! There is no end to telling the experience of Life and presence. But for the work of this writing I understand your need for closure. We do wish, of course, to bring the full-adventure into your awareness.”
V adds, “The adventure of it is what I’m feeling now, at the end of this book. There is so much excitement attendant with presence. If you approach it in such a spirit of openness, it is pure freedom.”
Omis continues, “Life on Earth is the invigoration of matter though spirit. All sense of adventure derives therefrom. It can be wide-open excitement and full action; or it can be quiet, simple discovery. Presence is the essence of it all. Perhaps we can say that it is the face of Life for you. What you see in and through its eyes, its senses, is what you live. Even if a human does not honor the presence, he is still living it unwittingly. This is a tragedy from our perspective, of course. To lose awareness of the moment is to lose nearly everything!”
V comments, “I have seen this problem in humans indeed. They lose the joy of living by ignoring the presence that is all around them continuously.”
“We are here to correct that,” Omis states flatly. “Hold my hands, dear friends. We shall take a little ride into presence and expose it from the inside out.”
I wonder what he means, as I clutch his large hand. In an instant we are swept up into another reality—his angelan being. We’re seeing and feeling through his body. That body seems to turn inside out. What was ‘negative space’ around us and between us is now our full and positive form. We have become an embodiment of the emptiness all around; we are the environmental self.
My imagination reels as it tries to explore the idea of this. We have become space itself, literally and concretely—paradoxically. The body substance I share with my two friends reaches out into infinity and eternity in all directions, and in more ways than I can know with my finite mind. There are qualities and ‘directions’ I never conceived of before, threaded and folded into the dimensions and the gaps between dimensions. I am realizing that the fabric of space is woven everywhere with unlimited intricacy, order and precision. Even what we call chaos is an ‘ordered’ part of this tapestry.
Our expansive being, though reaching out into infinity, does also have a precise focusing power—right down to here in this place, where our ‘normal’ bodies reside. We are able to direct our perspective upon the shapes of objects and events. But these, by comparison to us, are now hollow concavities within our substance, like bubbles in champagne.
I look at my own body, left behind below and see it is an empty vacuum. Every object that was around us is this same hollow, negative space. I straightaway recognize that bodies are not at all as solid as I’ve always assumed. Rather, they are like effervescent bubbles, appearing for a time and then departing back into the flow.
They are more verbs than nouns, more ‘formings’ than forms. Their primary function is transformation—demonstrated by their coming and going and changing continuously. That which is born must die; that which begins must end—sometimes in the self-same moment. This is the lot of all ‘formings’! And it is only possible to know this because we are seeing ‘in reverse’, inside out—as angelans see.
“Omis,” I murmur. “How is it that my physical body seems so empty, like a vacuum container?”
His reply is matter-of-fact. “Forms are indeed verbs, as you have guessed; they are the motion of illusion. That illusion is not so convincing from this perspective, would you agree? Your forms are empty so that they may be filled. Filling is ‘forming’. It is what you do and what you are, as forms. Now notice the texture of the ‘environmental’ form that we embody.”
Before my vision, there appears a network of fluid silvery veins; they move subtly and transparently everywhere throughout our ‘body’. The veins shine and glisten with an inner illumination as they rapidly flow into each form and function. They are tiny-thin, even microscopic. They have come to my vision only because Omis has commanded it, I know.
“You are witnessing what streams in our veins, of angelan anatomy. This is the forerunner and seed-link to what you know as the blood and circulatory systems in your polar-negative world.”
Presence is so strong in this array that I cannot but stop and simply appreciate. Everything is in constant motion and, disquietingly, everything is also, perfectly; eternally still!
ⓒ 2014 Robert Lee Potter
CLICK HERE and you will find all the chapters posted from Life of Source. I will be updating each week with new chapters till we reach the end of the book. It will then be available for download from this site. Stay Tuned…
Letters From 500 