Fanaa: From Time to Eternity

We approached the Giver of States in awe and reverence seeking a glimpse of that burning and annihilating ecstasy. Hearing our footsteps a voice came from the Throne of the Void, infinitely near and infinitely far from our ears, “In my perfect justice no state is dispensed in vain.”

“Tell us our Lord, what constitutes your perfect justice?”

From behind Its psychedelic veil our Shaykh spoke thus: “In my perfect justice that which persists in existence subsists in non-existence and that which persists in non-existence subsists in existence.”

“Seek annihilation by not seeking at all, for I am not found by seeking but by seeing, a seeing stripped of all looking, by pure witnessing. The seeing that finds my face annihilates the seeing that finds my trace.”

“Who art thou who dwells in the heart of the Void?”

“My essence is my face and my names are my trace. On whosoever I cast my piercing glance, whosoever has witnessed my Jamaal and blinding brilliance, is at once annihilated in its temporality and reintegrated in my eternity. That is Fanaa, the state I bestow upon my dearest folks.”

My Water Broke

Writing has not come easily to me within the past couple of years. I went straight from writer’s diarrhea to a total, painful writer’s constipation. There have been sudden bursts of ideas but none has been able to reach the mother egg so far. This consciousness, this mass grave of ideas in which everything that is and was has been laying from the days of yore where my father was my mother, this unbroken and unbreakable symmetry in which everything seems to be eternally disintegrated and reintegrated, this infinite ocean with its ever receding horizon must have swallowed my aimlessly drifting raft.

There is an uprising in the soul of a sensitive spirit; a gnawing dissent and discontent has crept into the hearts of the people of the city of the heart; these men and woman have quantum jumped between the two extremes of joy and sorrow without ever seeing the light of the golden mean. When the pendulum of the heart crosses the invisible line into the eternal chaos, when the spiritual asymmetry of irregular polygons propagates into mental obsession and physical compulsion, our only savior is the unmoved mover, the origin. A person of this type must experience the origin: he must experience the birth of meaning.

Behind the scenes of religion the prophet pulled me over to the water cooler and whispered into my ears, “To surrender is to be open to meaning.”

Every being strives to return to the lost homogeneity of its primordial state. The collective form of this strife is found in the phenomenon of history and its singular form in the phenomenon of the individual person. For humans, the closest glimpse of the Platonic reflection of that transcendent homogeneity is given in the purity and simplicity of childhood, much like the peasant life that represents the collective form diachronically and the pre-civilization culture that represents it synchronically.

The struggle toward something entails a persistent, however subtle and concealed, consciousness of the end. A progress or evolution of any kind is initiated on the ground of a pregiven impetus and teleology at least potentially present in what evolves. Actuality is the dance of potentiality. Seeing things from above, the common struggle of all existence is a struggle to return to the Ideal; however, it is felt in the form a return only from the inside; from above it is a struggle to remember the Ideal, and at the peak of this holy mountain, the real and the ideal are one and the same. After all, we can only forget what we already know.

“A good flight with a bad landing is still a failure,” the prophet kept whispering with all the intention to annoy me. I went to flight school in my late 20s but I didn’t attend any of the landing trainings. I am a one way flight man; I just like to take off and keep going. Maybe I should’ve become a Falcon driver if there is such a thing.

Outer space has always called for me and it is a perfect one way flight. I remember when I was five I became aware of a passion for going to space. My parents thought I wanted to become an astronaut and advertised me as a bright and ambitious kid! Little did they know that I wasn’t looking at a 9 to 5 or a career in space. I just fancied the idea of being absorbed in total freedom and no sense of orientation. My one desire was to become totally desire-less. But the family didn’t need to know about my ulterior motive, neither would they ever grasp the breadth and significance of it as the prime driving force of my life. They eagerly watched the trajectory of my life with all the pride in the world until Boooommmm, the untold explosion of the noema on August 20th, 2013: the family watched the following crash and burn in awe as did the spectators of the Challenger disaster. A detailed report of the flight and the consequent failure generated by the Omission Commission remains classified to this day except a leaked excerpt stating “the man’s desire was met.”

Even now as a grown ass man I still have a love of deep space, deep space both as the Self and the Other. It is included in my will that my lifeless body be shot into empty space in a disposable capsule so that I can forever fly away from mundane origins and relativities and like my spirit become the origin and the source of all relativities.

I love the moon with its dark side. I love the Truth with its oblivion. Unlike the Pythagoreans, I love the undetermined and the unlimited.

What is God

The atheist is a man or woman disbelieving in a god of his own understanding. In rejecting God as an absolute principle of reality, he unjustifiably promotes his own fallible reason to omniscience, a station whose very existence he had set out to refute. Atheism, like relativism, is self-contradictory for merely logical reasons. But perhaps we may offer a few more or less intellectual and esoteric conceptions of God, in the sense of Godhead, as food for thought for those who rather see than believe.

God is:

“The coincidence of all opposites.” Rumi

“An infinite sphere whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere.” Liber XXIV Philosophorum

“The synthetic unity of all antithetic determinations.” Eugen Fink

“The permanent actuality of the Self.” Rene Guenon

“The eternal present.” Don’t Remember

“The undifferentiated and un-differentiable state of consciousness.” Tomaj Javidtash

“Awesome.” Arthur Vandelay

See Me at the Crotch

There is a dirt road in the very heart of this city; it goes neither to the north nor to the south, neither to the east nor the west; neither to the northwest nor to the northeast; neither to the southwest nor to the southeast. This is not a road to any other dimension, neither is it a road with any orientation. This dirt road goes back, as it were, to the dimensionless seed of all dimensionality; it is a hidden road to a hidden door opening to where I am before extension and duration shoot forth and apart, before my face is washed away by the swaying waves of time and space.

This painter is not in the paining; this painter is the paining staring into the abysmal mirror of the witness. The painting is the reflection of the painter in the eyes of the witness.

This dirt road, this one right here in the heart of the city of the heart, is quite peculiar, for in this journey I am always already at the destination, so that when I arrive I am there to receive and welcome myself. This dirt road completes a journey that has never begun, and yet it is not complete unless it is begun.

The journey from time to eternity has no duration. Infinity is not indefinite extension, neither is eternal life a mere indefinite prolongation. Stumbling upon my grandeur by way of their fortunate birth, men of relative knowledge see in Me their own ignorance while men of perfect vision see in themselves my absolute Knowledge. The principle of all principles: your partial knowledge of Me is the Other, the universe; your absolute knowledge of Me is your Self.

Temporal life is a transparent veil over the eternal life. The absolute, eternal life has not become relative and temporal; and the relative and the temporal have never come into Being. What constitutes this apparent veil over my infinite depth is always Ideation. Drop all that you see and all that you are, and you will instantly recognize the ever shining face of Truth. No one has reached Me by way of position and accumulation; those who find Me come by negation and annihilation.

The dirt road goes from here and now to nowhere and nowhen; it concludes in an all-inclusive singularity in which all times and places have come together for supper. In this silent orgy all masks are dropped at the door, and both notions of union and separation are left behind the slaying edge of the event horizon. We must become naked to the Spirit before It enters us, and in entering us we enter It: we are thrown into that stateless state Turiya. In that blessed moment all opposites are reintegrated in their transcendent principle. The inside phenomenologist Eugen Fink calls this corner of all corners the synthetic unity of antithetic determinations. Dante knows it as the dimensionless point in which everywhen and everywhere is concentrated. Our Mawlana Jalaluddin Rumi sees it as the coincidence of all opposites. What a sobering coincidence! Oh, we threw a play in which the king and the clown are one and the same.

This dirt road is infinitely long and infinitely short; it is not for the sane hearted for whom we have laid the highways of religions and philosophies, the expanding ladder of doctrine. Let us say no more but that every human being is a dirt road and a camouflaged portal to eternity. Access code: neti neti.

This heart of mine knows not where to hide; it is sought as it seeks, and it is found as it finds. This heart falls into ecstasy with every glance of the beloved; my beloved stands on every corner of this Bazaar. This hide and seek is a one man game.

If your right thumb aches and you are interested in our way, visit our one convenient location in that black hole right at the crotch of religion and philosophy; park your self outside the hole, and when you enter don’t decorate the hole.

Logos From Eidos

“The stupid cannot become wise, and the non-existent cannot become existent, nor can the existent go into non-existence.”

Of all beings in this field, the only one capable of turning away from the incessant stream of phenomena, from mundane existence and the life of the field, is human being. This being roams the field while standing on the fence between the two worlds; facing the world he’s standing against The Abyss. But he is standing against the abyss in such a way that one could even say man is the abyss staring into the world.

Every night after a long day of work in the field, after planting my seeds, I takes off this human disguise and withdraw back into that abyss, I return home.

In every man, woman, and child that wakes up from sleep, in all beings starting from the first cause up until now, I alone have been the one returning from the abyss known to you as dreamless sleep. I am the single mover in all movements. I move all things while myself remaining unmoved. I move by a single glance from the abyss, from my transcendent throne: I am the possessor of all masks. I am the Animator. I dwell in eternity and recur eternally.

There is a type among us whose soul suffers much with every small turbulence, as a sensitive tooth does with every wind. In this suffering soul, a layer of spirit is exposed to the harshness of bare existence. The sober soul understands him not, for he/she has not known the spiritual madness for transcendence. This world has no remedy for such souls except a congregation of souls who understand by gnosis the restlessness of a spirit longing for home. Our suffering fellow isn’t aware that he’s been seeking to be restored to the original and primordial state of his existence, that is, to coincide with the archetype of which he is a projection. A dental appointment doesn’t cure this type; he/she needs a transcendental appointment.

A sensitive spirit has residual memories from the good old times its father’s house. This type, coming from that old city of Eidos in eternity, has no tolerance for time and impermanence. This type is the insane one, and his insanity lies in forgetting that the remedies of this world have only an apparent resemblance to the consolations he found in Eidos. The impregnated abyss has come between him and Eidos. How can one bridge a gap that is not even of the nature of space! How can one reach for the Hidden Door that is at once infinitely near and infinitely far!

We suffer from separation, and our only remedy is a bridge, a Logos from Eidos and not a bridge of our own making.

 

The Veiled Revealer

What is that thing through which we see everything? Light.

What is that thing which in principle can never be seen? Light.

What is light? Light is the dark revealer; itself veiled, it unveils everything else.

And the light of this world is only the shadow of that Intelligible Light which shines in your dreamless sleep, the home to which you return every night after a day of surfing on the ocean of life. Though you can never describe the dreamless state you know for a fact that it is a state of your reality. You don’t know what it is but you know that it is. Like dreamless sleep, Truth too is beyond whatness: It is but It is free of being anything in particular.

Whoever claims that there is no consciousness in dreamless sleep is claiming two things that contradict one another: First, by saying so he/she admits that there is such a thing as dreamless state, as opposed to a dreaming or a waking state. But then he denies in it the very existence of a consciousness that must be there in order for him to know about such a dreamless state. Exactly how did you “know” that there isn’t consciousness in that state? You must have been there yourself in one form or another! And if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t even know about it, let alone talk about it.

In dreamless sleep there is certainly no cognition going on but consciousness is there ever present as it is in all other states of consciousness. So this state should be characterized with the absence of cognition rather than the absence of consciousness, the latter leading to contradiction.

If there is no experience in dreamless sleep it is because there is no cognition to be illumined by the ever shining light of consciousness. Cognition is entirely conditioned and determined by the psycho-physical constitution of the individual being while consciousness is universal and transcendent to the plane of nature cognition.

Experience arises when the Intelligible Light, i.e. consciousness, is reflected back to Itself off of a non-consciousness, matter or cognition. In the absence of a non-consciousness, of a duality, there is nothing to reflect the light of consciousness so that no experience arises; however, the light is still there.

Same is true of the light of this world: That the outer space is dark, as opposed to our sky, is because there is no air or matter to reflect the light. In fact, the empty space is filled with visible light. We cannot see it because light, Intelligible or worldly, is the dark revealer: It only manifests the face of the Other and not Its own.

Hell is the Other

The man of today is drowning in the ocean of subjectivity, in phenomena, falling for his own shadow, falling a second fall. By continuous feeding of our little desires we have made a mistress out of them; mental and physical needs become more subtle, and we have developed a consciousness for them; we have become too conscious of every disturbance, and we struggle to suppress it one way or another, like a madman trying to calm the waters by pressing down upon waves. But this growth of desire has no end, a shoreless ocean it is; it opens up indefinitely like a fractal.

We are so mesmerized with the dance of forms that we can’t remember our exalted station. Man is a frail and fragile creature, a transient phenomenon; but what is within him, or what animates him, is immortal and indestructible. It is the androgynous perceiver of all the states of reality. It perceives all points of view at once; It sees through all eyes: It is the beholder of every now and then, of every here and there. It is what it is; “I am that I am.”

This universe is a one-man universe. There is no one else in it but you; there is no “other.” It is like when we reenact a situation or lost opportunity in our head, playing all sides and conversations by ourselves! This world, this diversity of subjects and objects, it is one of those situations in the mind of the Solitary One. And you are that One, the One without a second, the only One; and there is nothing like it.

If you see the success of others, why jealousy! In them, in their hearts, it is you; their gaze is your gaze. So their achievements should make you better and happier; their success is yours and their failure too is yours. Who else is in this world!? When you judge you judge only your own perceptions. If you are true to yourself, if you are objective at all, you must realize that you see nothing but your own perceptions. So, if the world is hell for you it is the hell of your own perceptions; and if it is heaven, it is the heaven of your own perceptions.

The otherness of the other is just another perception. The other is a manufactured reality, a notion, an alien interpretation read into the Current of Forms. I am all alone; I am the only reality. The diversity of subjects and objects, giving rise to the illusion of multiplicity, has its cause in a greater and higher intelligence beyond the mind. Being one and alone, It perceives within itself an apparent diversity, much like when a single mind can perceive such diversity in a dream state. As it is in the nature of light to shine, it is in the nature of consciousness to project, to make an image of its ideas. So the reality of the image is not to be found in the image itself but in the consciousness that projects it. All we perceive is light; world, diversity, is an interpretation: “The face of Truth is concealed by a golden vessel.” (Isha Upanishad)

In this world there is no such thing as equality. There are greater men as there are lesser men. What shines in them is the same; the difference is only in what they reflect of that Intelligible Light. The difference is in the degree to which they reflect in the outside world what is reflected within them. It is the matter of concentration and utilization. The psycho-physical constitution of a man, and indeed of this modern people, is such that the intelligence shining in him is mostly dissipated by mundane curiosities and irrelevant information; the attention is leaking out every which way.

As sun shines equally on everything, pure intelligence too shines equally in every being and animates it; but the receptivity of the spirit to this light always depends on our spiritual/intellectual orientation. If your mind-body complex is consuming most of your intelligence, then you are moving toward intellectual dullness and stupidity. Here lies the difference between literacy and knowledge, between mere information and true wisdom: Literacy doesn’t make noble men; it doesn’t impart virtue. Books don’t make men; it is men who make books. We see more crookedness, arrogance, and awkwardness in the merely literate than the illiterate. While literacy concerns itself with the letter, or the most superficial reading of it, knowledge is concerned with the spirit behind the letter, i.e. the transcendent and immutable meaning of things.

The imperative has always been the same: Know thyself. Know, first, that by knowing which everything else is known.

We produce informed but not wise men. We produce readers but not seers. We produce sterile beings. It is by the admission of our scientists and philosophers that “the more we know we realized how little we know.” That this knowledge, this outward curiosity, adds not to knowledge but to our ignorance. Then, how can it be called knowledge when by possessing it we feel less knowledgeable. Simple is the answer: This cannot be knowledge in the true sense of the word if it does not remove ignorance and instead multiplies it. That is why the more we fill ourselves with this world-knowledge, the more empty and arrogant we become. This is the difference between knowledge and literacy; in the latter we accumulate letters, a pile of names and forms, something even a tiny flash-drive can do; while in knowledge we accumulate nothing; we only peel off the many layers of ignorance; we add no more conceptions but stand behind all conceptions. By reaching the ground of Being we stand under everything; then and only then can we say we truly understand.

In true knowledge we add nothing but subtract everything until the true Self shines, until its beams emerge from underneath a pile of forms and letters. Literacy makes a man heavier, less flexible, less immortal; but knowledge, i.e. knowledge of universal principles, makes a man light, more flexible, and closer to immortality. At the summit, when the last veil, i.e. your human cover, drops and His face, your true Self, is beheld, then immortality is realized. And it is the immortal man who hovers over the surface of the waters, the waters in which the literate man of today is drowning to his demise.

Some make their own truths, and some let themselves be made by the truth: To be made is to be hammered.