For an explanation of the Channeled writings see the June 29 2018 post.
September 25 2018
I have a small learning for you, but you won’t hear it if you stay out of earshot. If you come into this arena there might be something for your ears. But you will have to bring them with you, you will have to become willing. What are you willing to hear?
Come into this learning. This learning is a house. In this house there are many rooms. They hold an astonishing array of furnishings – something for every need, every use, every taste. Some are sumptuous, some are plain, some are frivolous, some are utilitarian. Some are of the utmost seriousness, some are filled with laughter. Birth happens in some, death on others. There is access to each, some access is easy, some very difficult. Some sequences of movement through the rooms facilitate access to all. Some paths close and lock doors, and there is no return.
If you were to enter this house, and if you were to begin to explore, you might be exhilarated at the array in it’s infinite variety, with it’s staggering profusion, or you might be dismayed. In your exploration you might move about, savoring the variety. One particular room might so appeal to you that you try to stay in it for a long time. There is the possibility that you might begin to feel lost. You might eventually hope to find a map or guide. You might begin to yearn for finding some room glimpsed in passing. You might panic and begin to run blindly. You might look for the exploration to be over, to reach some end. It might occur to you to ask why you had entered the house in the first place, to ask what it’s purpose is, or what your purpose is. You might try to find meaning in it.
In this house there is a central room that is vacant. It is completely empty. It has no furnishings. It has no walls, no ceiling, no floor. There are no windows, no doors. There appears to be no way in, and you can catch only a small glimpse of it. There is absolutely no thing there. If you were able to penetrate this room you might be terribly frightened. It might look like the antithesis of everything to you, accustomed as you are to furnished rooms with defined edges. It might look like nothing at all. After the initial terror, the memory of your glimpse of this room might begin to fascinate you. It might strike you that there was something important about it, that is holds some secret. It might call out to you in some undefinable way. You might feel yourself pulled toward it.
What is it that draws you to this emptiness? What can you sense that pulls at you? Is it the translucent luminosity that pours forth? Perhaps it is the throbbing power, or the dizzying vastness. Perhaps it is the absolute stillness at the center of all that is. Perhaps that which pulls you toward itself is unnameable, unspeakable. But you would want to define it, give it a name, grasp it with your understanding. You might wonder if this were the source of all energy. You might apply a name that is familiar to you, you might call it God. The moment you name it you are separated from it. It will not be apprehended, or understood, or grasped, or named. It can only be experienced.
You could remember having had a glimpse of this vacant room, and you might look for a way to find it again, to approach it. And you might try, you might strive to get there. You might reach and reach for it. Perhaps someone else can show you the way to find it. Perhaps if you say the right words, if you practice the right actions, hold the correct beliefs, the way will open. And so you would look for the right combination. Perhaps this guru will know, maybe that entity can tell you. Breathe correctly. But you would find eventually that grasping for it ensures that it slips away. You might eventually realize the futility of the search.
In the search, you might discover some things, some states of being of great importance. You could find the means of maintaining clarity of mind. You could find openness of heart. Humility, poverty of will might be discovered. One-pointed concentration, devotion to the source might come to you. In finding these things you might empty your self. You could become transparent, receptive, vacant. You might no longer understand yourself.
Suddenly the room is there. It is found only in the state of not-looking, only by not-doing. It comes only when there is no expectation. It is accessible only to the empty mind, to the self that is vacant. There is no understanding it. There is stillness. There is silence. There is emptiness. There is the shining void.
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