Читать книгу River of Love - Aimée Medina Carr - Страница 19

Oliver experienced it, the day he was drawn to The River for the first time. A line of a Rumi poem echoed in his thoughts: “Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really Love.” He’s pulled by an invisible thread of Love to The River. Deeply moved by his willingness, Love responds. We’re all moved by it—trust, surrender and it accepts the invitation. Only from a place of spirit does Love become visible and enable one to see clearly.

It happens to anyone who crosses The River threshold, we enter into God’s Garden—pure naked being, a springboard to the sacred. A way out of our heads and into the reality of non-dual thinking. A free-fall into the boundless chasm of Love: the bliss yielding, silver stranded, Eternal Now. Whether it’s a townie or a trust fund preppy entering into the majestic heart of The River, the blindfold of the ego vanishes, and the possibilities unfold.

It’s thrilling to share this new experience with friends; the first visible jolt—their gaze changes. The blinders removed, lenses cleaned, replaced by reverence, indescribable well-being, and awareness of the resplendent surroundings.

“Wow! What’s happening?” Is their most common reaction.

“Relax, let go, let the sublime beauty wash over you. It’s trippy at first, but once you open up, grace flows.” I assure them, and hold their hands or lead them by the arm.

When the senses open up to the Divine, the veil of everyday ugliness is lifted. The wild danger of awareness is a glorious side effect when having an inner experience with the Supreme Being. There is no separation between the secular and the sacred. Regrettably it doesn’t last, but as long as The River invites and opens up to us, we’ll return for more.

I refer it to friends feeling bent out of shape, distraught or fearful. “Go to The River for a spark up, or God shot at the mystery holding tank,” I assure them of its healing qualities. Mind-altering substances help deal with the intense, alluring pull of the mystical elements and its emerging theater of undiscovered beauty. Smoking enhances the celebration of pure delight, creativity, and Love that radiates from this place.

Cynical students from Sacred Heart School make fun of the naïve, “holy hippies” that party with the Chola townies. They say we drink hobo wine, drop acid, and get stoned till we hallucinate a mystical event. They send Mark Dusk, Editor-in-Chief of the school newspaper—The Bullsheet to check it out. He’s blown away by an encounter with the spirit of his father killed in Vietnam.

I meet Jack and Caleb on a sun-soaked October afternoon. We plop down on a limestone outcrop slopped to The River’s edge. We’re about to begin our ritual of tantric gazing at The Arkansas River when Mark Dusk startles us. He looks like a leprechaun with thick reddish-brown hair, twinkling eyes, and a stout body. He scuttles up, sits down, and nods at Caleb to fire up the joint he’d just put in his mouth.

They razz each other about a disastrous chemistry lab project with colorful commentary of the spaz teacher, when a robin flutters inches from Mark’s face and then, perches beside him. Like the surprising shaft of God light beaming or the brief brush of a butterfly, we hold our breath and wait for the bird’s next move. Tears trickle down Mark’s round ruddy cheeks.

“The last encounter I had with a robin was the day everything changed.” He said softly. “I was in my dorm room studying when a large robin flew kamikaze style smack into the dorm window. I looked up just as it’s flattened torso shook the room. I jumped up to help it, but it was gone. Then, I heard a sudden knock on the door and was summoned to Headmaster Rio’s office.

We watch the curious creature while listening to the lapping and soothing sounds of the water’s waves. After the bird flew away, Mark pulls out a red bandanna from his back jean pocket and wipes his face. “Thank you; this means so much to me. I know now that my father is OK.” He refused to let anyone ridicule our sacred space at the River of Love.

We surrender to the internal power flowing at The River and discern the difference between the ego operating system and radical connected belonging. Grace flows underneath all that Love and stunning beauty. There is no formula, only to live with God’s Spirit that dwells within you, let go of feelings and become quiet and small, then The Great Spirit will be obvious in the very now of things.

The students from Sacred Heart School know religion domesticates God. Eliminate judgment, and the surroundings magically open up. Eliminate separation; add infinite acceptance, unlimited receptivity, and participation in something larger than yourself.

I don’t hesitate at the doorways of the Divine and move toward what is expansive and truly alive—the rush of the soul longing to know itself. It’s an undeniable force. This unity makes me question, all the nonsense about being separate or alone.

What if there was a greater reality? Jesus tried to unmask the lie in our belief of separateness. I feel a real, invisible power which is the source of all life. My future is in the hands of the Great Spirit who knows what’s best—The River and Jack. A grateful consciousness opens us up to Love and surrender. In our participative seeing, we experience spaciousness, joy, and contentment.

I feel a shift in perception when looking at whatever it is before me, instead of filling it with personal meaning or interpretation, I simply look at it, as it is. I accept life as it occurs and as it speaks to me. Whenever believing is replaced with inner sight something changes. A new realm appears. Stop thinking and just look. Delve into the Gateway of the Here and Now. Presence, attentiveness, the “is-ness” and “here-ness.” Seeing this way is why Mark Dusk’s Spirit Robin didn’t freak us out. Primal experience, the mind, mostly keeps us from that—it can also, get us there. I surrender and enter the present moment and what is right in front of me, fully—without resistance or attempts to control. The exact opposite of giving up, it is being given into.

The secret to the natural world: let go of names and all preconceptions of God. You cannot search for what you already have. Just be with Him, here, at The River of Life. Simply, receive the ever-benevolent gaze of The Presence, returning it in kind, mutually gazing. Prayer is not starting the conversation from scratch it’s plugging into one that is always in progress.

Saint Teresa of Avila believed prayer was an intimate sharing between friends, not an exercise but an encounter, not a practice but a presence, can’t control it but can create the climate for the unfolding—meeting the Beloved.

The longing and need are so great, and Grace fills the vacuum. I want to spend every free moment with Jack. I’m incredibly happy, how do we sustain this euphoria? I question if he feels the same way and ignore the nagging doubts. Jack wouldn’t hurt me, I can trust him; my feeble mantra.

Jack’s introversion, dry humor, and imposing vocabulary intimidate me. I carry a dictionary in my backpack and increase my reading volume. I conceal nervousness by projecting a confident and energetic personality. I’m pressured to be smart, witty, and exciting for fear he’ll lose interest. My goal was continuous learning and achieving intellectual heights.