Journeys into the bright world

In contrasting therapy and yoga we have an echo of the age-old conflict between those who regard life as a problem to be solved and those who see it as a reality to be experienced. In the Chinese philosophical treatise The Secret of the Golden Flower it is written, "When purpose has been used to grasp purposelessness the issue has been grasped." Perhaps it would be as appropriate to say that when the distinctions between work and play fade out then we will see creation as God's (and our own) recreation. Then indeed we will grow through joy and the kingdom of heaven will bubble forth from within. In the same way we will find that while "samadhi yoga" feels good and could produce a stupendous addiction to God, it will certainly turn out to be useful in dealing with the sick and suffering as well as in giving guidance to so-called normal people. Samadhi yoga is also samadhi therapy and in the final analysis there is no difference between the two.

As January slid into February it became increasingly evident that what the goddess was giving us were variations on one theme which could be expressed in the words, "Let the soul seep through." Again and again, both symbolically and through direct apprehension, I was made to see that the evanescing appearances of the phenomenal world are but ripples in the surface of a universe containing oceanic depths of beauty, goodness and compassion. Regardless of where one begins, the journey inward is bound to reveal some segment of the core of meaning that makes our lives worth the living.

Repeatedly, the idea of all the elements becoming permeable to one another was presented in pictures of mists softening the garden spots of earth, of the fragrance of sage drifting through desert cacti, of the intermingling of sand and surf, of air beaten into a froth of waves on the sea shore, and of the warmth of sun lifting the morning dew skyward. Often the images took the form of textures as though the threads of one level of consciousness were being woven into those of another to produce a crochet of sumptuous designs. Still other images were organic as when I saw the members of humanity as God's earthworms aerating the soil of animal instincts with higher aspirations or as spiders of light weaving cobwebs between earth and heaven. On another occasion it was shown to me that dreams are like enzymes of the psyche, enabling us to digest and assimilate the day's experiences.

Analogies pertaining to cookery were also common. There were times when it seemed as though my task, was one of raising a soggy batter into a souffle, mousse or chiffon cream pie, and I wondered if it would ever be possible. Probably the most common of all the images was one of being worked upon like beaten gold. In this respect it always seemed astoundingly apposite that my new name, "Alltounian" meant literally "son of a goldsmith."

One of the most vivid of these picture lessons dealt with the process by which we are "in-spirited" by the breath which flows through our bodies. I had started our session by breathing in yoga fashion first through one nostril and then through the other while visualizing the pranic life-force flowing in through the top of the head down to the base of the spine and out along the channels of nerves. Suddenly it seemed as though my backbone had become a magnified syringe in which the horizontal lines, like markings on a ruler, were laid out like vertebrae. A fiery energy current was pressing down the hollow cylinder of the spinal canal from whence it was being apportioned to every cell of the body, enabling each one to partake of the largesse of the whole. In turn, the minuscule cell entities were busily engaged in a process of combustion, using their varying allotments of oxygen to stoke the furnaces of the organism in which they were incorporated. Moving up a level it was impressed upon me that the entire universe is like a syringe, as the breath of spirit is injected into the body of matter, only the process is going on all the time everywhere at once.

At this point, however, it seems necessary to warn the reader that we definitely don't recommend this visualization exercise. It is too powerful and can disrupt or prematurely stimulate the fires of the body. Certainly anyone using ketamine on a regular basis should read Gopi Krishna's cautionary book Kundalini and take it to heart.

Increasingly my attention was being brought to bear upon the issue of how the bright world, which one might call the "anima mundi" or soul of all things, can be induced to interfuse the plasticized realm of non-porous objects. How are we to tincture everday awareness with the deeper dye of the beyond that lies within? How is the realm where everything interpenetrates to be reconciled with the billiard ball realm of supposedly discreet atomic particles and isolated stars?