I’m not so naive as to think I fully understand my own beliefs and feelings, nor to assume they form an exactly rational system when laid bare by attempts at explanation. But in making the effort, I discover things– inconsistencies in thought, many of them delightful(!); powerful feelings that cannot be explained, yet explain much; ineffable inner realms I realize are part and parcel to who I am; or the existence of ideas operating one level deeper within me than the level I set out to explain. I discover, or at least contact, who I am, and by extension, who we are.
As an example, consider this treasured, albeit potentially indefensible conviction I hold, that the world is quite capable of behaving in ways not reconcilable with the past. Equivalently stated, I believe my library of personal experience is a woefully inadequate indicator of what exists within the landscape of the possible. Both of these statements efforts to describe a feeling I have in my heart. It is a feeling that beckons to me from the unknown. It is a feeling that something very real exists, right now, but not yet fully within the present frame of manifest experience.
Is this crazy?
Then I am happy to be called such.
Feelings are powerful resonators, and they call forth ideas that seem capable of elaborating on their contents. Giving these ideas life can quite often seem an impossible task, however, particularly when they represent departures from past precedent, and it is at this point in the chain reaction of creation and consequence that one reaches an impasse. It is as if an uncrossable divide appears in our way. How does one reach across the gap from one frame to the other, from what is felt to what is apparent?
* * * * *
When I was in college I discovered the ideas of John Keely. To some, he was construed as a crackpot and a fraud. To others he was a genius. One premise latent in his work is that every structure in the universe– from the smallest particle to the greatest galaxy– participates in a dynamic flow of harmonious forces that may be “sprung open” at any point in space, just as a field of invisible white light is capable of being released into a rainbow of visible colors on its passage through a drop of water. These forces, once released, seek ever to return to their natural state of hidden balance. The Earth and the Sun, as examples, are like two drops of that water, fulcrums of power who each spring open the cosmic reservoir, releasing forces who flow continuously from each to each in their yearning for balance. It is as if a limitless field of neutral magnetic potential were torn in two points, creating a pair of openings, and those two openings were linked to form a continuously flowing circuit. Thus, through relationship and mutual arising, a dynamic, but seemingly stable form emerges.
So far the story sounds rather like an impressionist, nineteenth century rendition of electrodynamics, in which electrons are bound to the nucleus of atoms by passing the electromagnetic force back and forth. One of Keely’s distinctions was that he felt the human being was also such a drop of water, and he came to realize that the human being could “awaken” these forces in earthen materials. Two examples from stories surrounding Keely’s legacy will reveal what is meant by this. In one story, Keely placed copper spheres at various points in his laboratory, and by preparing them in ways that remain beyond concise explanation, he was able to cause them to form a miniature “solar system”. They floated in orderly circles through the air of his laboratory just as planets float through the space around the sun. In a second example, he constructed a large copper sphere that he “geared” to the existing circuitry of the Earth and Sun. When activated, the sphere would rotate, just as a planet does, and would do so regardless of resistance applied to it– e.g. leather straps linked to really heavy objects. He is said to have intended to apply this invention to the rail system, eliminating the need for dangerous steam engines in trains.
The insight, the mojo in all of this is said to have been love– whatever that is… Keely is said to have initiated his experiments by playing a violin and using music as a carrier of his heartfelt knowing-feeling. To simplify– temporarily eschewing the notion that the stories are simply absurd, because the feeling I have would suggest this isn’t necessarily so– Keely’s legacy suggests that love can awaken relationship, causing new circuits to form in the natural world through which harmonizing forces will flow. I found this idea nearly intoxicating, and still do.
* * * * *
At this earlier time in my life, roughly fifteen years ago, I participated in a group of roughly twenty to thirty persons– (at our peak, though at times we were just two or three)– who had come together in an effort to recreate this phenomenon. We failed to reproduce any physical reenactments of these stories, but the particular mode of failure did not really dampen my feeling that far more is possible than history would suggest.
One thing I learned was that I needed a result too badly. I was desperate, hungry, and splintered within. I was, truth be told, as scared of success as I was of failure. I thought I would be different if events went a particular way, and I now realize how deeply erroneous this type of thinking is, and was. I sensed this inherent cosmic braking system at work within me at the time, but I desired to somehow push through my littleness. If we could invent light bulbs and space stations, why could we not research our way forward to this? It was such a good dream. Though the message we were given was that healing and love would need to precede any of the spectacular outcomes we envisioned, I was impatient, and I was pained at times by the handicaps of my own shortcomings.
I could see no real path forward, and the effort fell apart, but I decided to take the medicine. I realized I would need to be free of projecting my wholeness onto specific forms, free of needing specific outcomes, and that what I needed above all else was to become a reservoir of peace and contentment with however life arrived. In other words, I could apply this feeling of possibility to all that has already arisen, and thereby eliminate the gap. What lies beyond the gap remains to be seen and experienced, but remains out of reach so long as one’s current field of experience is seen as broken. What I think I understand deeply now is that the path to the new involves the transformation of our experience of what already is.
Removing the obstacles to one’s awareness of Love’s presence is the temporary purpose of life. When the process is completed, it is no longer needed. Rational or not, I accept this to be so, and I remain convinced of the validity of the feeling I have that beyond the embodiment of this realization there lies all sorts of beautiful possibilities. Keely may have been a genius, or he may have been a crackpot. We may never know definitively. It doesn’t really matter at this point. My path led to here… I am pregnant with an idea of open-endedness I cannot shake, and I am protecting this child within me from the conclusions of history. We whisper to one another at night, about all that we are becoming, and I find in each day emerging evidence of all that truly is.