The world of light

We have been taught to believe that light is an external phenomenon, one that comes from the sun, from the moon, from the stars, from fire.

The other day, in the hills, he realised that a light comes from within him. The hills spoke to him of the ancient secrets they held, and after that, there was always a light in him. When he closed his eyes, it was more intense. When he opened them, it was still there.

It appeared all over the body, but particularly in front of the face. He could also see the light in other people. Most people seemed to be fighting the light, but could not obliterate it. A few, very few, lived with it, allowed it to manifest smoothly. When he saw Sheikh Burhanuddin Hermann on an interview on the internet, he saw a man living his light.

After returning from the hills, he would simply attend to life, as it was for him in the moment, and the light would guide him forward, in the direction that he needed to go, the direction that life wanted him to take. Thought – active, deliberate thought – seemed to cover the light to some extent.

The light was white, and intense. It was fluid and would not be limited to fixed forms. He had partially felt it for about a decade. Perhaps his first conscious registration of the light was when his former spiritual teacher had told him to attend to the light between his eyes. He had stopped the practice a year later, after a painful break from his teacher and his spiritual school. Five years later, the light had re-appeared by itself, all over his body, rising upwards, and connecting him to the farthest expanses of the universe. It would always be there when he would attend to the moment, and would be particularly intense at night. Now, after the trip to the hills, it had become a more central aspect of his daily life, and also more quiet, as if the explosive light of earlier times had finally broken through a layer of his being and found a home in it, as if it did not need to knock any more to be let in.

At times it seemed as if light was being infused into him from the universe. He would lie down and relinquish all physical and mental control, and allow for his body to receive the light and be purified.

He discovered a deeper love for animals and would talk to them more often, at times aloud, at times in his heart. He also become even more quiet and silent than he was before. This disturbed some of his relationships, particularly with persons who expected something from him.

When he fell ill with a flu, he saw the light of the universe being infused into his body to heal it. He lay down, still in bed, all day, and allowed the light to do its work.

His spiritual friends became more present to him, as if they were beings of light.

Life did not become more pleasurable or less painful. It was only felt more deeply, with more clarity, and lived more sincerely.

He remembered to not make a big thing of his experience, but also not to neglect it and not to refuse to understand it.

There was nobody he could share it with, for nobody would understand with empathy. It would be mere information to them, information of a strange kind perhaps. He quietly went along with the life he had.

He found that talking to people about their deepest concerns – about their pain, their hopes – brought the light alive, and so did writing. He thought, as he had before, that these were the two callings of his life.

He saw that the city was an arena of darkness, a systematic project that blotted out light, where people were taught that they had no light in themselves. Its noises, smells, its races, its futile entertainments, they all flocked into darkness. He wondered how life would turn out in this environment.

~ by tdcatss on July 24, 2019.

One Response to “The world of light”

  1. I understand.

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