Given the direction – my mind holds only what I think with God (WpI.rIV.In.2:2) – one intuits a spaciousness, as if the brain were a drop of water in an enormous crystalline ocean, as if thought itself were just a faint breath of wind flickering slowly across a vast unvarying desert.
Thought is external, a measurable effluvia of the brain. I am not unimpressed with penicillin, Macbeth, solar panels and sourdough starter – to name a few of thought’s accomplishments – but that does not alter the changeability that is its salient feature. The same mind that invented the printing press invented – and chose to drop on Hiroshima and Nagasaki – atomic bombs. Its mischief skews between beneficence and horror and we are no more likely to control it then we are to harness lightening with our bare hands.
Yet to call thought either good or bad – or good and bad – is to fall prey (yet again) to its endlessly whirlpooling activity. When it rains, you move your sleeping bag inside – you don’t accuse the rain of evil intent or try to persuade it to stop. Thought can help us build a shelter but some other energy – some other presence – has to enter if we are going to build it lovingly (which is to say, to know what it is for).
We do not lose the world when we gain remembrance of God. No sacrifice is asked, no pound of flesh taken.
Thankfully, that “other presence” is already here, already active, already integral. It is not a question of letting go of the ego and picking up God. It is not akin to learning a new language. When we drop lovelessness, Love is there. It is simple – so simple we miss it entirely or consider it beneath us.
Thought is merely the language and imagery – which includes emotions or feelings – that fill what we call “thought.” But our minds hold only what we think with God. To the relative mind bent on duality that means nothing. It’s just another sentence, not the fact that assures our liberation from conflict. But to the serious student, it is literally the difference between life and death.
When we drop egoic chatter – or peer beyond or peek behind it – we perceive how thin and tenuous it truly is. We perceive, too, the enormity – the vastness – of the space in which thought “happens.” We glimpse the forgiven emptiness of Heaven. It is like we have been studying a candle stub and its pinprick flame all our lives and suddenly gaze into the night sky: a thousand times ten thousand stars glitter in dark entablature, no end and no beginning. How limited we were! How confused!
How holy are our minds! And everything we see reflects the holiness within the mind at one with God and with itself. How easily do errors disappear, and death give place to everlasting life. Our shining footprints point the way to truth, for God is our Companion as we walk the world a little while (WpI.124.2:1-4).
We do not lose the world when we gain remembrance of God. No sacrifice is asked, no pound of flesh taken. We merely loosen our stranglehold on thought and step naturally into the peace and joy that is already there, the sacred gift given in creation, the divine we that we already always are.
Thought merely hints at all this because it is contained within it. Reality is not subject to conception because it is already conceived. We merely accept it as the loving condition of our identity in God. Ask and it shall be given because it already has been given. Joy waits only on our acceptance.