Imagine yourself in the same place on the same day in late 2016. What was one of your greatest challenges or perceived obstacles in immersing in your Symphonic Activity this year?
No grail, no sword in stone, no clear path ahead. My dogged Quest has been mired in indecision. The final prompts to imagine the ‘Symphonic Creation’ that would raise the baton on January 1st has been met with silence. The orchestra is on strike, the chairs empty.
Why? When I thought I was doing so well-well… well enough. ( All the staging posts on Quest 2016- and work backwards) can be seen on my Odyssey site- since it seemed appropriate) This is more relevant to the journeys of others.
I wondered whether it was a wise reluctance to commit to what deep down I suspected might fail; or whether I had met a roadblock in all that collective resolve. My fellow travelers are conjuring up stunning websites, (that define them as a ‘brand- without doubt’) venturing onto ‘Departments of Hope’, holding joyful retreats on the sandy shores where sun shines. I truly envy this bright youth and wish them well. I truly do.Yet the belief that we create our reality might be tempered ( and legitimately) by age, fatigue, and having already created a ‘Symphonic Treatise’, the Book-That-Wrote-The- Life, and maybe I would be wise to pack it in, and set about clearing out the ‘might-be-useful-one-day’ both practically and metaphorically.
Rather than ask you to pick over half written plays, memoirs fading like dye in water, stories needing a quick burnish I am going to tell you why I only partly believe in the ‘create your own reality’ adage. This decision was prompted by a post on Synchronicity in which the writer, Viv Tuffnell, recounted something that seemed to validate her decision to leave the road more travelled, for the one less travelled, only to find a clear and explicit encouragement to keep going. I have linked to it in the post below.
Now, about roads utterly un-travelled I know quite a lot, and about synchronicities that accompany them. When I was deemed mad I understood that I looked as mad as any March hare. I knew I wasn’t but I did not blame those who thought I was. I had departed the shores of time and matter in which synchronicity only peeked like occasional violets through the stones of seasonal tramping and set full sail into the field of instantaneity, and reading thought before given words to wing it. Thought was event. A question that arose in the mind was answered immediately. There was only Now. Time and causality were a collective idea of partial understanding, created by the belief that matter was separate from consciousness. Hence the delays between them.
When you live in Now, what you understand is that Time is a kind of blindfold. It protects us from the consequences of thought, since we are not always in control of thought, it is a filter by which consequences can be assigned to others, the ‘field’, and we can be blithe, and semi-irresponsible. Without that you are naked as a babe breasting a drowning sea. To stay afloat I had to dance, and if you dance in the streets of London ( and you don’t carry leaflets for a vaudeville) you are clearly mad.
Why did I have to dance? To shut out the horror of ungoverned thought, the judgements , the hatred, the competitive, the ridicule, the savage glances, as easy to read as a billboard. Humanity exposed for what it is. In such a state it looked like a Goya painting or a Bruegel. Would you not shut it out? Is that insane? Nobody asked for an explanation and Bruegel wore a white coat.
Why am I telling you this? Because the ‘Power ( and peril) of Now’ or the episodes of synchronicity are believed to be a kind of ‘messaging’ that speaks to those ready for them, as though aligning right thought will bring the rewards that affirm it, a safe pointing finger. This new-age philosophy of ‘make your reality’ fails to take account of the ballast provided by other weighty contributors of unconsciousness and worse. This belief emphasizes an old/new virtue still governed by intention and will, whereas I know that letting go of intention and will and swimming in a tempestuous sea changes every moment of now. Events reflect the field of consciousness. Alive to the field, reading events is more a matter of integrating an ability to swim in a rolling tide, and avoid the rocks you can clearly see, or rest upon them. They do not sink below the surface or melt; they were not your creation.
If I have a quarrel with this belief in an imagined reality brought into being by a vivid application of focused intent, it is not that I believe it erroneous, but rather that it fails to understand that we are the recipients of a field, receivers as much as creators. Weaving a path needs to take account of that. We might be able to take the reins of ourselves, but the landscape has contours that shapes out path. The destination changes every moment.
Pieter Brueghel the Younger [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
“Cabezas en un paisaje” by Francisco Goya – http://www.elangelcaido.org/creacion/200412/200412cabezas.jpg. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons – https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cabezas_en_un_paisaje.jpg#/media/File:Cabezas_en_un_paisaje.jpg
PHI lippa. Letters of Love 
