Paradox

We have become comfortable calling this earth our home, simply because the narrow century or so of our present human life will unravel itself here. Few of us have taken the pains to understand what our role is in the first place, and even less to realize our full potential.

It is popularly said, “Home is where the heart is.” Where is our heart then? Would we carelessly leave something as dear as our heart in a place that truly does not belong to us?

In the beginning there was only One, then there were two, and then three, then many, then thousands and lakhs, and finally there were countless beings. Now he who finds a perfect Satguru, who is one with the One, and is the form of that One, will succeed through his grace in extricating himself from the illusion of the many and reach his real home.
_{Soami Ji Maharaj, Sar Bachan Prose}

The saints and mystics urge us to spend this vital human birth in search of our permanent home, the abode where our heart truly lies. A place where there is no duality, no pain or suffering, no falseness or deception, no lies or pretence. Where there is only Truth Unshakable. Irrefutable. Never changing. We may consider this place as distant as the most far-flung star orbiting in some dark recess of the universe, or closer to us than our very own breath. It all depends how deep and earnest our search is.

The mystics show us the method to tap into our hearts, to hear the music of the spheres, and lovingly woo us back. As human beings we are given the key to enter the majestic realm of our Father, the Creator, from whom we have been separated since the beginning of time. Birth after birth, we have allowed ourselves to be lost in this hall of mirrors, in this paradox of existence, taking this life simply at face value and fooling ourselves into believing that this is the end-all and be-all.

The saints come to this level of existence to make a connection with us so secure that it would never again be broken.

Your Creator, the Lord of all creation,
has given you two gifts, sought after by all the creatures;
your heart, the capacity to love,
the light on your face,
the potential to be loved.
_{Sheikh Abu-Said, Nobody, Son of Nobody, as rendered by Vraje Abramian}

As expressed in the above lines, we are honoured to have a boon that is desperately sought after by those who roam this existence: the capacity to love and the potential to be loved. But how have we used this capacity? How have we taken advantage of the potential within us? Do we simply waste it in pursuits that will be of no permanent use to us? Why do we regard our spiritual practice as an encumbrance, a duty that has to be dealt with only to be pushed aside to tend to matters less important?

Maybe we have simply lost patience; reached the end of our tether because we have not made room for the glory and joy in our daily sitting. Our constant barrage of thoughts and mental assaults leave us short of spiritual space. Regrettably, we are unable to see how Master is preparing us.

It does not dawn upon us that each time we sit, each time we turn to him in the dark hours of the early morning, we are awash with the light of his love on our faces. If we were only aware of it! If we could only see his gentle guiding hand and trust him!

Wait constantly at this door, for the King may unexpectedly distinguish thee with His presence. The main thing is for thee to be present and nothing else; thou must be present – nothing else matters. If thou standest ready at the door, thou wilt be favoured by the King’s presence.
_{Farid al-Din ‘Attar, Ilahi-Nama, translated by John A Boyle}

There is no end to his bounty. The King is waiting patiently to serve his banquet. The feast is being prepared, the organization is being expertly taken care of, and we, the guests, are nowhere to be found. Curled up cosy and warm in our sleep, we mortgage our precious present and lose one opportunity after another. We justify our absence with our hopeless complaints, our litany of excuses, and our habit-formed procrastination.

It could be a matter of months or just weeks before he distinguishes us with his presence! He will arrive. We have forced him to signal his arrival bearing thunder and lightning, as all along, our minds have refused to believe his words of reassurance. But his thunder and lightning do not make an announcement. They are to be heard by those that are ever ready, that expect nothing but yearn in the solitude and quiet of their hearts.

For those that doubt, that insist on tangible proof, the glory and bliss of the heavenly spheres will remain just as far away, just as paradoxical as some distant heaven shining in another universe.