Shite or Flowers

Divide and conquer. The whisperer has always been with us. Telling us lies of separation and confusion, leading us into labyrinths of thought and judgement, drawing veils across our eyes to obscure the simplicity of miracle and the truth of our unity. Our unity of strength and vulnerability. The stories have never been so accessible as they are now. We have made our thoughts and knowledge manifest, created a great virtual machine of words, knowledge, visions and art. Our best ideas and our darkest shadows are only a few clicks away. The gateway to the great tangled woodland of our human wonder and folly is wide open and we all walk through, children and parents, young and old. The mind jungle has no end it stretches away in all directions, hung with vines and flowers, dark corners and forgotten glades. The mind that walks in this place may love the vibrant crazy aliveness, it may love the dark and twisted branches. There are paths here leading deep into the thicket, bright stones leading the way deeper into the maze. But how are we to navigate here? In the forests of the sacred earth there are stones and trunks and good soil. There are resting places, undeniably solid and real. One cannot deny the stone’s truth, the tree’s solid reality. Our bodies, made of the same stuff, are at home, deeply rooted in the present. We know how to travel for we are born to it. But when we enter the jungle of the internet we leave our bodies willingly at the door. We see them everywhere, slouched on the bus, standing still in the street head bowed, body abandoned at a table in the café. The telephone portal has no guardian, it is always open, we leave our bodies and step through. Much of our sense remains with the body, the echoes of ancestry, the wisdom of our bones, the inheritance of an evolving earth. We enter the maze without a compass.

Perhaps there is no harm in getting lost. The journey is its own reward. The paths we tread in our outwardly manifested collective mind are colourful and wild. The jungle is fascinating, strange and dangerous. Yet here the whisperer has more power than ever. Without the anchor of body and nature we are even more susceptible to the lies and judgements that arise within us or which lead us astray in the wilderness. Christ tempted in the desert at least had his bare feet on the hard desert earth, a way to meet the ever-arising perfection of presence. We are offered the world of glitter and dreams, of hatred and judgement, of fear and separation. Almost without consequence we are able to look down on some and up to others. Never having to meet their eye we can criticise and belittle opinions and values. We can be the misled sheep or the enlightened saviours. Lift ourselves and others onto pedestals whilst we drag the less fortunate through the virtual streets pelting them with the rotten fruit of our arrogance and certainty.

Is it worth the price? The exchange of mystery for certainty, of presence for knowledge. Is the consequence-free virtual judgement of friends worth the separation it creates. Because it does bleed. The paintings we create in the jungle of the collective mind bleed colour into our lives. After twenty minutes in the web I emerge more confused than when I went in, a little reduced somehow. Time given away in exchange for entertainment. A trade that I am seldom happy with.

I am not here to preach. To advocate a return to some idealised ‘before’. Only to speak of that which has always been spoken of, that there is temptation. That fear and suspicion breed fear and suspicion. That doubt breeds doubt and that illusory certainty is the beginning of the end of our living relationship with the mystery that we carry and which carries us. Somehow we need to meet each day with love. Not some false idea of liking everything we see or feel but with love. A love that is deep enough to encompass breakdown and fear, that rests beneath doubt and robs it of its power. A love that recognises that this that we are part of is the great wave of life, where uniqueness blooms eternal and yet separation is a laughable nonsense.

Never surrender to hatred or fear of the other. The whisperer would have you raise yourself up as the one who knows, who has chosen freedom over fear. The short-term buzz of being right is not worth the cost. There is no higher price than separation, no winning that is worth the collapse of comparison and judgement.

There is a space that has opened up between where we were and where we would like to be. What we choose to fill that space with will determine how we walk and the path that will unfold before us. Humility, kindness and creativity make for good walking and companionship. These choices we must make each day, often from moment to moment. I sincerely pray that we have the dignity and flexibility of heart and mind to make choices that support love as we move towards that world that we know is possible. When the jungle of the human mind and its manifested internet creation seem wild and confusing trust the body to navigate. The presence of the presence is faithful and forever. Our blood and our bones know the way for they dwell in the unfolding moment, trust them and they will always lead you home. Let us be kind to each other in our actions, our words, our deeds and our social media threads. Life is a fertile field and whatsoever we plant will grow and grow. Wherever we are traveling too I would much rather walk through flowers and grief than shite and self-generated darkness. Our choice.