A tribute to Walt Whitman and to the Graniet Flats TV series that made fine use of his words.
Video samples are from the TV series “Granite Flats,” 2013-2015, season 3, episode 1, “Our Rendezvous Is Fitly Appointed”
Wikipedia article: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Granite_Flats
Netflix link: http://www.netflix.com/WiMovie/80044560?trkid=13641790
A compilation about the essence of spirituality, what it is, what it means, and nature of direct realization or enlightenment. A video montage of personal narratives of spiritual experience.
Well, surely heaven is not what most people think and imagine. It’s not the singing of old church hymns and, if heaven had walls, they would not be decorated with the plump cherubs of old paintings. Of angels I have no doubt there are many, though minus the feathery wings of Earth’s ornithological types. That is the trouble with the way humans picture heaven, it becomes a projection of the earthly imagination. Surely, there are no towering churches or collections of virgins for the would-be resident.
Now that said, there is a consensus in many esoteric works that the mind and emotions, being exceptionally creative, means that all these things are collectively created on a psychical level. So whatever people imagine heaven to be–personally and collectively–that it becomes for the persons who participate in that thought form. So one can easily see how–in the psychical world–crowds of devoted followers gather around their Jesus to hear the repetition of sermons. But all this must be structures, forms of the earthly experiences projected, as it were, into the skies of the the “heaven worlds.” In modern terms, an illusory matrix.
As I have it, all this described is not heaven but a collection of human counterfeits, the very same counterfeits one meets with in the minds of humans generally. How then to elevate the term and concept “heaven” beyond its usual earthly import? “Structures,” which is to say forms and materials, are the stuff of worldly life. But there is something else, something truly spiritual, that casts its luster over, in and through the earthly world. The word I adopt for this is “archetype.” There is a pattern in and through and behind everything an archetypal beauty being the soul of every form. Truly perceived, life in the external world becomes a window through which the real heaven can be seen. It is not structure, but the creative energy behind.
The nearest analog to heaven in the objective world is light, color, sound, and geometry. These suggest the archetypal pattern on which all is based. To put it otherwise, the soul of every truly beautiful thing and experience of life, exists as a living and dynamic archetype in spirit, and that includes all that every individual is in their deepest self. The archetype of thought, emotion, consciousness, nature, and of the entire cosmic expanse, all exist in “heaven.”
“Hell” is in the life hear on Earth, and heaven also, when we can see through to it. That being the case, we need not wait for death to know what heaven is, because it is present now within and about us. It is a living presence in and through us and in and through all things. So then, yes, it is Consciousness–a whole rainbow of consciousness. All that people love and cherish about external life is the shadow of real life, the life called “heaven.” Not one good thing in world—in past, in present, or in future time—not one good thing is ever lost. The good unfolds always in an infinitude of wonder that is life. The heart of all is good beyond dreaming and it lies open before us now and through all the lives and deaths on which our spirit rides.
And about evidence there is this:
We would like perpetual renewal of life and vitality. We would like to feel that dawn is coming with a rush of new benevolent energy. We would be like to be in spirit like the best morning of our life. Today, I reiterate a bit of transpersonal semantics conducive to renewal:
A word is, or might be, sacred.
I do not fancy myself religious in any conventional sense, but there is a good idea in the religious of the world, that of “sacred word.” I do not say it is in bibles or churches. But it might be in you. And if we were to meet, I would listen for it. You might not even know you spoke it, but I fancy that I would know.
I create letters, blends, sounds, spaces, waves… I’ve watched the play from childhood. I remember how the play came, dreamlike, automatic… watched now from a distance I see the faint stirring of purpose in it. There was a hidden singing not mentioned in the grammar books. The unfolding syntax still looks magical as if by angelic help. But now we come to divinity manifest in consciousness, and the meaning of it.
Before words, worlds, kingdoms, I am amazed. Words spring spontaneously into sound, each as mysterious as my forgotten first word. I cannot find the full depth of their silent origin anymore than I can find the full depth of space. I know the subatomic structures of the brain do not yield the secret of words; their shapes and sounds are more spacious and multidimensional. I follow the sounds, and am alive in the creation and in the origin. I create with words and am created by them. I feel their musical patterns move from spherical to complex geometries, becoming vital spinning stars, life forms, the shapes of thoughts in space. I try to mirror the world of original patterns; it is impossible art, but full of joy.