Today is 1 January. It seems like a strange time to write about Christmas as perhaps it would seem better to write about New Year or the forthcoming festival of the Epiphany. Instead, I chose to write about Christmas a this is the very middle of Christmas.
Christmas is a festival that lasts only about 12 days or 13 nights. It starts on the eve of the 24th of December and ends at midnight of the fifth of January. January 6 is obviously a different festival, the festival of the Epiphany. In some ways, somewhere between the 31st of December and the first of January is the middle of Christmas.
I also want to write about silence. Again this may seem like a strange topic as Christmas is the time with family, the time of parties, and silence is something that comes at the end of all these gatherings, when we are tired and want to got to sleep.
Let us explore the qualities of silence, qualities such as its golden nature, according to the popular saying: "Silence is golden." Can we truly be silent? If we take a moment of solitude, when natures is naturally "silent" and listen carefully, one of the experiences we may have is not of really silence. Deep within in us is a voice with an almost constant commentary. This inner, incessant voice, in a way, overpowers the silence we strive to attain. The silence within does not match the silence without.
If we look at silence in this way, then we may arrive at another perspective of the gold, that adjective for silence. Gold as we know is the best conductor of warmth. This for me is its real value. Thus, when refer to silence as golden, could it be possible that silence, used in this cliche, is actually a conveyor of warmth?
When we are silent, others may be heard. When we are silent, our entire being is in a sense at rest. We were are silent, the being of another, pours into speech, and makes an impression upon the listener of warmth or coldness. When we are silent, we allow others to share more, not because they speak more, but because we are prepared to listen. When we are genuinely silent, our opinions, judgement, preconceptions, lose their strength. Our openness becomes more evident, and it is this openness that begins to fill with our warmth., ready to embrace the warmth brought by the other who speaks.
Today, we live in a world full of noise, of movement, of agitation, even during Christmas time. Stillness, silence, is very difficult to achieve for many, including me. For some, it may even have lost its value. Christmas is a time of great silence for us. It allows us to hear the rejoicing of the heavens as the Christ child descends to earth. It allows us to hear the Christ within us who speaks to us daily and perhaps is not often heard. Christmas is a festival marked at both ends by silence. A silence on earth on the night the shepherds heard the angels through a dream (Gospel of Luke). And at the other end, the silence in the world where three wise men pursue a star to the birthplace of the Christ child (Gospel of Matthew). What is it in the heart of the shepherds that allowed them to hear the angels sing? What is it in the heart of the three wise men, that allowed a star in the sky to speak to them of the birth of the Christ child? And more importantly, for modern day man, what will allow our hearts to be silent to hear the Christ within us?
For me, with these questions, lies the wonder that is Christmas. Thirteen nights of silence to listen to humanity sing in chorus with the angels the birth of the Christ child.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Advent
Happy New Year everyone! Today, 2 December 2012, is the start of
the new Christian year. The Christian year begins with Advent. And just like a
calendar year, it lasts 12 months although it marks time in a different
way.
Advent covers the
four weeks before Christmas. Generally, it is a time of year dominated by
bright lights, loud music, and a great rush, at home and at work, as everyone
prepares for Christmas. In some ways, Advent is almost like a "lesser
storm" before the whirlwind that is modern Christmas.
Most of us don't
even really know what Advent is all about anymore. Advent is almost like an
ancient milestone by the roadside; it gives us information about how much
further we have to go before we get to the "real" destination,
Christmas. Perhaps, when we were younger, our families engaged in activities
that allowed us, as children, to count the days before Christmas.
But what is
Advent? If it were such a "minor" festival, why is it a festival at
all? And why does it take all of four weeks to prepare? Advent comes from two
Latin words" ad meaning "to, toward" in
relation to space or time; "with regard to, in relation to," and venire meaning “to come”.
Hence Advent may be understood also to mean “toward coming” or “with regard to
coming”. Awkward as this may seem in our common day language, these definitions
so to speak care with them additional perspectives on the meaning of Advent.
Not only does it speak of a coming per se
but it speaks of way of looking at his coming. Let us consider the rather
awkward definition above of “toward coming”.
One may ask why I opted for this definition as opposed to say, “to come”.
This is because “to come” would translate only as venire and not carry the ad-
prefix. Obviously there is a reason to have the prefix ad-. I also like the sound of “toward coming” as it carries with an
active element. There must be more to Advent then simply “preparation” as the
word itself seems to reflect a process, a becoming.
What is the becoming? The obvious
answer is Christmas. Then the next question is what is Christmas? I will
discuss that in another instalment. Thus, when we remove the obvious answer, we
are left with a question that has a less obvious reply: what is becoming?
If we look at Advent as the time to
prepare to become, or to move toward coming, this opens us different
possibilities for us all. Advent is important. It is important for the
completion of our being. It is important that we understand our process of becoming,
of becoming human, of becoming that which is truly human. It is a period where
we prepare to meet something, someone that is streaming towards from the future.
It is about a coming, an event which has yet to occur, that we move forward to
meet. Hence Advent is not a static preparation, awaiting a great event; Advent
is an active preparation so that we, as human beings, may step out and meet the
event to come.
Advent is a thorough preparation
across four weeks. In the first week, the physical world is ready. Children’s
stories of preparation across this first week are stories of how minerals “step
out into the world” facing the future to come. If this was our homes, our first
step would be to clean our homes.
In the second week, the plant world
is ready. The plants have “stepped out into the world” to face the future to
come. In our homes, after tidying the house, we spruce up or buy the special
plants for the season.
In the third week, the animal world
is ready. The animals have “stepped out into the world” to face the future to
come. In our homes, after tidying the house, sprucing up the plants, we prepare
our pets. We bathe them, groom them and make them ready.
The fourth week of Advent is about
the human being. We prepare ourselves. Are we ready to “step out into the world”
to face the future to come?
Advent is not just about waiting for
Christ to enter our homes. It is just as much about us stepping out of the
doors of our homes, gazing down the path of the future, ready, not just to
welcome, but to recognise and invite Christ into our homes.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Festivals
This morning as I was leaving home, I could not help but notice the large vine that is grown rapidly up our star apple tree. When I mention large, I mean large. One portion of the vine had actually detached from the tree and appears to be growing downward instead of upward. From a distance I could easily imagine it as some sort of aggressive, serpentine beast, something from a nightmare.
Upon closer examination, I could not help but notice some interesting qualities of this plant. The vine itself was a shade of lighter green then expected. It is smooth and tapering. It is also quite firm, not an airy, light construction that could easily be imagined as I watch the vine climb the tree. The leaves were likewise interesting. They are not in a line on the vine but rather are arranged in an alternating radial fashion. The leaves themselves have an interesting element. Where the leave of the stem meets the vine, I could clearly see two darker parts of the leave, on the left and the right side of the stem arising from the vine. These two darker parts are quite stiff and, more interestingly, growth through to vine come out like two spikes on the other side of the vine. This made me realize that these spikes were like extended roots of the leaf, penetrating the vine and connecting to the tree. This allows the vine to creep up the tree, remaining rooted, so to speak, to the bark of the tree.
Two thoughts came to mind with this interesting observations: 1) The tree, in some way, is the "earth" of the vine as these leaves root themselves in the bark of the tree; 2) the bark of the tree must form part of the earth for the vine to root itself in the tree.
I suppose it would be easy now to understand if this triggered a series of botanical images or thoughts in my mind. Unfortunately, it did not. Instead it triggered some thoughts about festivals and the spiritual connection of human beings with festivals.
Long ago, festivals an essential center of human activity. In a way, humanity appeared to understand that festivals connected them to a larger, more spiritual world that was beyond their very existence on earth. In a way, festivals allowed earthbound human beings to participate in a spiritual activity that transcended their earthly lives. Most if not all festivals allowed humanity to turn its gaze to the heavens, almost as if longing for home.
It is all to easy in modern times to dismiss this behavior as one of a less developed time in human history. Of course this does not explain why even today, humanity continues to turn its gaze to heavens and respects, even without fully knowing and understanding, the timing of festivals.In many ways, modernization, technology, and other scientific developments cannot seem to erase an almost innate aspect of humanity that is moved by something that deeper and truly human.
What is the link between this thought and the vine? And how can the vine trigger such thoughts within me? In a sense the vine is a special image. It is a plant, which like all plants, continues to strive towards the heavens. Unlike a tree with deep roots and strong trunks, a vine literally climbs up to the heavens with the help of any vertical surface. It is a very clear picture of roots that not only nourish but enable the vine to climb. These spike like parts of the leaves that penetrate the vine to cling to the tree actual remind me of humanity's question about festivals and spirituality. Somehow, we must remain grounded and yet soar. Our roots must penetrate the earth and yet drive us upward. In a way festivals, when taken in the right spirit, help build in us this feeling of being both rooted and skyward bound.
Perhaps the real lesson of this story, for me at least, is that everything around me, particularly nature, reminds me, a human being, of a deeper part of my nature, one that is easily forgotten or neglected. That the vine is growing upward, along the trunk of the star apple tree was even more interesting. A star apple tree, a tree that is about human gravity and earthwardness (apple) and about humanity's heavenly nature (star).
It was a most interesting morning.
Upon closer examination, I could not help but notice some interesting qualities of this plant. The vine itself was a shade of lighter green then expected. It is smooth and tapering. It is also quite firm, not an airy, light construction that could easily be imagined as I watch the vine climb the tree. The leaves were likewise interesting. They are not in a line on the vine but rather are arranged in an alternating radial fashion. The leaves themselves have an interesting element. Where the leave of the stem meets the vine, I could clearly see two darker parts of the leave, on the left and the right side of the stem arising from the vine. These two darker parts are quite stiff and, more interestingly, growth through to vine come out like two spikes on the other side of the vine. This made me realize that these spikes were like extended roots of the leaf, penetrating the vine and connecting to the tree. This allows the vine to creep up the tree, remaining rooted, so to speak, to the bark of the tree.
Two thoughts came to mind with this interesting observations: 1) The tree, in some way, is the "earth" of the vine as these leaves root themselves in the bark of the tree; 2) the bark of the tree must form part of the earth for the vine to root itself in the tree.
I suppose it would be easy now to understand if this triggered a series of botanical images or thoughts in my mind. Unfortunately, it did not. Instead it triggered some thoughts about festivals and the spiritual connection of human beings with festivals.
Long ago, festivals an essential center of human activity. In a way, humanity appeared to understand that festivals connected them to a larger, more spiritual world that was beyond their very existence on earth. In a way, festivals allowed earthbound human beings to participate in a spiritual activity that transcended their earthly lives. Most if not all festivals allowed humanity to turn its gaze to the heavens, almost as if longing for home.
It is all to easy in modern times to dismiss this behavior as one of a less developed time in human history. Of course this does not explain why even today, humanity continues to turn its gaze to heavens and respects, even without fully knowing and understanding, the timing of festivals.In many ways, modernization, technology, and other scientific developments cannot seem to erase an almost innate aspect of humanity that is moved by something that deeper and truly human.
What is the link between this thought and the vine? And how can the vine trigger such thoughts within me? In a sense the vine is a special image. It is a plant, which like all plants, continues to strive towards the heavens. Unlike a tree with deep roots and strong trunks, a vine literally climbs up to the heavens with the help of any vertical surface. It is a very clear picture of roots that not only nourish but enable the vine to climb. These spike like parts of the leaves that penetrate the vine to cling to the tree actual remind me of humanity's question about festivals and spirituality. Somehow, we must remain grounded and yet soar. Our roots must penetrate the earth and yet drive us upward. In a way festivals, when taken in the right spirit, help build in us this feeling of being both rooted and skyward bound.
Perhaps the real lesson of this story, for me at least, is that everything around me, particularly nature, reminds me, a human being, of a deeper part of my nature, one that is easily forgotten or neglected. That the vine is growing upward, along the trunk of the star apple tree was even more interesting. A star apple tree, a tree that is about human gravity and earthwardness (apple) and about humanity's heavenly nature (star).
It was a most interesting morning.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Michaelmas
On the 29th of September, we celebrated the beginning of the festival of the Archangel Michael. This festival will run for the next four weeks and is the first festival to mark the final quarter of the year. In the Manila Waldorf School, this is a festival of great "challenges" ranging from obstacle courses for the younger kids to more challenging activities for the highschoolers. In essence, there is a strong element of "confrontation" of some "adversity" or "challenge".
Images of Michael are full of these qualities. There is a serpent or dragon that looks sinister in its twisted, slithering appearance. It is usually at the feet of Michael who by contrast is a like a glowing light of serenity, his countenance a reflection of peace and balance. There he stands, just above this serpent, armed in different ways, sword, spear, or some other instrument of death. And yet this traditional scene does not hold any quality of death. Instead, it holds a strong quality of tension. This is a tension that holds and frames the general imagery of Michael and the serpent.
While the general scenery is often outdoors, I have often asked myself, is this really an outdoor setting? In many ways, it is possible to argue that it is. After all, whenever we are outdoors, tension must be present to allow vital processes to occur. Without a steady give and take, for example, growth would not be possible. In this setting, it is easy to imaging Michael and his confrontation with this serpent.
But if this confrontation is not outdoors, it could only mean that it must be elsewhere. If we, for a moment, imagine that this tension were within our very beings, then the entire scene will change in its dimensions and importance. Internally, we have our own serpents. They wend their way through our inner being, seeking that pot of gold, so to speak, that true inner me that it may have the chance to devour it, swallow it whole. And in this inner space, there too must live Michael. He builds warmth within us and brings light in the search for this inner serpent. Within our very beings, this struggle, this tension, this ultimate confrontation, eventually takes place. And then, the scene appears frozen; frozen in time, frozen in space. What next. we inevitably ask.
Perhaps there is a reason that this dynamic scene of Michael and the serpent is frozen in such a manner. Frozen in this way, as we see in paintings, statues, even gin labels; so frozen that there is almost an urge to press it on just to see what happens next. And yet, what happens next is basically up to us.
How will we eventually express this tension? If it remains tension, we will certainly be a bundle of nerves. On the other hand, as this tension passes from our inner selves into the outer world, there is the chance that in this movement from an inner to an outer world, a transformation takes place. Tension is creatively transformed into something we can share in the world outside.
For young kids, there is an energy within that is creating tension. It is an energy that lives and grows as part of their maturing. The transformation of this energy is the boundless energy that allows them to greet the obstacle course that confronts them. It is an active, creative way that allows them to confront this inner tension by converting it into excitement for the obstacle course. As they confront each obstacle, the same question is asked of them. And regardless of how they confront the obstacle, the opportunity for the creative transformation of this inner tension is there.
For those in high school, this inner tension arises from their every growing realization of who they are. They sense it is there even if not clear. Their challenges are more individual , one that involves them not only in confronting their fears, so to speak, but also to transform these into a fear they can show to the world and hold as their own.
Ultimately, it is the ownership of this tension, this fear that each of us have deep within that allows us to celebrate Michaelmas. With Michaelmas, each of us has the chance to literally stand before the reflection of our archetype, Michael and see what each of us are made of, to see who we truly are. This understanding of who we are is important in light of the next festival, Advent, the preparation for Christmas as we need to confront the question: Do we have room within our inner "inns" for the Christ child who will be coming.
Let us creatively transform this tension then into the source of inner metamorphoses and strength for each of us to be who we are.
Images of Michael are full of these qualities. There is a serpent or dragon that looks sinister in its twisted, slithering appearance. It is usually at the feet of Michael who by contrast is a like a glowing light of serenity, his countenance a reflection of peace and balance. There he stands, just above this serpent, armed in different ways, sword, spear, or some other instrument of death. And yet this traditional scene does not hold any quality of death. Instead, it holds a strong quality of tension. This is a tension that holds and frames the general imagery of Michael and the serpent.
While the general scenery is often outdoors, I have often asked myself, is this really an outdoor setting? In many ways, it is possible to argue that it is. After all, whenever we are outdoors, tension must be present to allow vital processes to occur. Without a steady give and take, for example, growth would not be possible. In this setting, it is easy to imaging Michael and his confrontation with this serpent.
But if this confrontation is not outdoors, it could only mean that it must be elsewhere. If we, for a moment, imagine that this tension were within our very beings, then the entire scene will change in its dimensions and importance. Internally, we have our own serpents. They wend their way through our inner being, seeking that pot of gold, so to speak, that true inner me that it may have the chance to devour it, swallow it whole. And in this inner space, there too must live Michael. He builds warmth within us and brings light in the search for this inner serpent. Within our very beings, this struggle, this tension, this ultimate confrontation, eventually takes place. And then, the scene appears frozen; frozen in time, frozen in space. What next. we inevitably ask.
Perhaps there is a reason that this dynamic scene of Michael and the serpent is frozen in such a manner. Frozen in this way, as we see in paintings, statues, even gin labels; so frozen that there is almost an urge to press it on just to see what happens next. And yet, what happens next is basically up to us.
How will we eventually express this tension? If it remains tension, we will certainly be a bundle of nerves. On the other hand, as this tension passes from our inner selves into the outer world, there is the chance that in this movement from an inner to an outer world, a transformation takes place. Tension is creatively transformed into something we can share in the world outside.
For young kids, there is an energy within that is creating tension. It is an energy that lives and grows as part of their maturing. The transformation of this energy is the boundless energy that allows them to greet the obstacle course that confronts them. It is an active, creative way that allows them to confront this inner tension by converting it into excitement for the obstacle course. As they confront each obstacle, the same question is asked of them. And regardless of how they confront the obstacle, the opportunity for the creative transformation of this inner tension is there.
For those in high school, this inner tension arises from their every growing realization of who they are. They sense it is there even if not clear. Their challenges are more individual , one that involves them not only in confronting their fears, so to speak, but also to transform these into a fear they can show to the world and hold as their own.
Ultimately, it is the ownership of this tension, this fear that each of us have deep within that allows us to celebrate Michaelmas. With Michaelmas, each of us has the chance to literally stand before the reflection of our archetype, Michael and see what each of us are made of, to see who we truly are. This understanding of who we are is important in light of the next festival, Advent, the preparation for Christmas as we need to confront the question: Do we have room within our inner "inns" for the Christ child who will be coming.
Let us creatively transform this tension then into the source of inner metamorphoses and strength for each of us to be who we are.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Thinking
In this
modern age, it is not unusual to associate thinking with a mental activity that
creates ideas. It is, I suppose in a certain sense, one of the most strenuous human
activities that can be undertaken. Even when we may not appear physically
active, it is not unusual to feel exhausted after thinking. But what is
thinking really? What actually transpires when we think? Not easy questions for
sure but let us try to imagine what happens when we think.
Whenever I
have to think, I used to believe that in my head, some phenomena occurred that
resulted in thought. And somehow, I could “see” that thought as a result. This
would then lead me to do whatever it is that I did. As I grew older and began
to learn about anthroposophy, I began to observe what actually took place when
I was thinking. At first it was difficult to imagine this as I thought it was
instantaneous. In many ways it is, and in other ways, it was actually
observable. What I began to observe and understand was thinking involved life
experiences. As my life experiences grew, it was like my thinking grew as well.
I was not necessarily smarter than before; but my connections to these life
experiences grew stronger in some cases and weaker in others. I could now see
that when I had to think or really apply myself to thinking that it was like
there was a whole array of life experiences that flashed before my eyes and by
linking them, I found out that idea or thoughts were born. This observation,
combined with what I had studied and continue to study in anthroposophy, led to
an interesting conclusion. Thinking is not about intelligence per se but about like experiences. Since
the life experiences occurred in the world, then thinking was about a
connection (my life) with the world (experiences). In a sense, if feeling, as mentioned in my
previous post, is about how I experienced the world, thinking then was about
how I connected to the world or as various literature of anthroposophy puts it,
I make the world mine.
We are
flooded with experiences in our daily lives. Sometimes these experiences may be
intense; at other times they are almost imperceptible. But they are there. Not
all of these experiences may be significant, while others, we cannot do
without. And yet, that is all they are: experiences. Somehow, even if the
experience is our own, there is a need to internalize or embrace the
experience, so to speak, and make it our own. Unless an experience is our own,
then it just remains that, an experience.
I noticed
that this would happen particularly when I am asked a question that is new to
me. I realized that in my mind, there would flash a wide array of experiences.
Imagine a blank wall suddenly filled with images of various experiences; all
the images change rapidly and then, a composite image of what I need to answer
the question forms before me. It is as if by flipping through all those
experiences very rapidly, a common thread was found to link several of them
together thus bringing forth the answer. Each image that is presented is an
experience that I not only had, sometimes it is not even well remembered, but
for some reason, I have a clear connection to it, a connection that makes it my
own.
From this
perspective, I suppose one can say that thinking is about making the world one’s
own. With this realization, it then becomes possible to imagine that I do
belong to the world as well, not just to its material aspects, but also to
those less visible and yet experienced.
It is through thinking that we take and transform our daily experiences
into a part of us, a part of who we are, a part of what we need to achieve in
this world.
Sources: The Study of Man by Rudolf Steiner.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Feeling
Feeling is a different level of movement within the
astral body. If will is movement that
is visible and perceptible in the outer world, then one can look at feeling as a movement in our inner world
or inner life. Feeling is much more than
an emotion or a sensation; it is a whole body of experience that we generally
perceive within ourselves. While it is true we may reveal our feelings
externally, it remains but a portion of the entire feeling activity that we experience and that happens.
This opens
an interesting perspective on the nature of the astral body. On the one hand, will is what is generally perceptible in
the physical material world, then it speaks of a particular relationship that
the astral within us has with the external world. On the other hand, if feeling relates to the experiences
within our inner world, so to speak, then it will speak about a particular
relationship we have with the non-material world but with an experiential world
that lives within. Thus, in a certain sense, our astral body has something to
do about our relationship with both the external, material world as well as an
inner experiential world. As this relationship is rightful always in movement,
our astral body, for its own general well-being, will seek a harmonious balance
between that which is without (the physical, material world) and that which lies
within (our inner, experiential world).
Let us then
put forth an imagination that willing
is how the astral expresses itself in the physical world and feeling is how the material world
expresses itself in the astral. With this picture, feeling life is about how we experience the world. Willing is how we transform that experience
into the physical world.
Of course
we have will activities that will
happen naturally or instinctively. These are will activities that arise from the material world. These are not willed from within but rather from that
which surrounds us. On the other hand, we may argue that we have a feeling life that also “simply arises”
or experiences. Then, in like manner, this feeling
life must be moved or molded by our inner, non-material, non-physical world
of experiences. For those will and feeling activities that we bring about
consciously, then something more is at play than simply the material world or
the experience world.
More can be
said about the feeling life. However,
it is like a minefield fully of strong connotations. It is a widely active life
with movement from extremes to movements of precise inner balance. When we
listen to our feeling life, we will
begin to sense this to be so.
So far, in
the astral body, we have a form of movement; will where we express ourselves in the material world. We have a
form of movement, feeling where we
take the physical world and express it within in us as an experience. The obvious
question therefore is how to make this wealth of experiences our own. To answer
that, we will come to the third movement of our astral body: thinking.
Sources: The Study of Man by Rudolf Steiner.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Willing
The human
being as described has four bodies or sheath: the physical, the etheric, the
astral and the soul. The astral is the body of movement of which there are a
number of different movements. This short essay and the two that will follow will
describe and share a perspective on the three general type of movement that finds
their home in the astral body.
The first
type of movement is one that we are all very familiar with. It is generally
called: will. If we do a quick internet type research on the origin of the word
will, we find that it has meanings
that imply choice and also imply wish. Will, even as we understand it today,
continues to carry this in the background although some of us choose to ignore
that choice and wish may be connected to the meaning of will.
In the human
being, there are at least two types of will: conscious will (clearly if you
want to make a choice and you wish to achieve something) and unconscious will.
Unconscious will means will activities wherein we do not make a choice. The
digestion of our food, for example, is a type of will activity that we do not
choose or decide on what actually happens. I cannot, for example tell my
stomach to digest the apple first before the chicken both of which I ate. In
fact, if we were caught up in this willing, we would be unable to think of
anything else. Imagine a situation where we would have to will our muscles to
contract, then relax, then contract, then relax, just to walk! It is clearly in
our best interest, therefore, that some aspects of will better left unseen or
unnoticed.
On the
other hand, there are will activities, such as typing this blog, that require
conscious effort. The physical act of typing is not one of those. The willing
for which key on the keyboard to strike for example, or how to spell words
correctly and type them correctly is not something I do consciously. This will
activity is moved by the memory that lives in a way in my finders and my arms
that translate what I am thinking into this text. However, to create the
content of this blog, even before it appears in electronic form, required will
on my part. To build the argument, think it through, and imagine how I would
like to say it was deliberately willed on my part. I choose to write this blog with the wish to share with others, some of the thoughts that come to mind
having read various works of Rudolf Steiner. Unlike the actual typing activity,
the creation of this blog, consciously willed, required a very specific type of
movement. The movement may not have been visible outside of me but something
was “moving” within me.
When I play
a game, for example, there are movements that may be called schooled: memory
was developed and ingrained into my muscle mass so that my legs and arms would
know what to do. This frees me up to strategize what I am going to do during
the game. If I had to think about where to move and how to move during the
game, I would spend a greater deal of time on this then actually planning my
game.
Effectively,
for those will activities that flow from memory, even if I create the memory,
requires a close collaboration with the etheric body. As we know, the etheric
body has a very specific type of movement: it’s rhythmical. As a consequence,
repetitive activities that stream from memory arise in collaboration with the etheric.
On the other hand, will activities that arise from choices and hopes within me,
take on a different nature. It is ultimately this wish for a specific result,
in other words, this wish to create a future that differentiates conscious
wiling from unconscious willing.
Will is
about the activities in our lives. Some we are unconscious to; others, we do
consciously. The real challenge to us all is: are we doing the conscious ones consciously
and the unconscious ones unconsciously? Can we even tell the difference? To
succeed in telling the difference would me to understand the nature of will.
Sources: The Study of Man by Rudolf Steiner.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
The Four Sheaths - The Spirit Body
We now come
to the fourth sheath in the composition of the human being. Like the astral
sheath, this sheath is also not from this earth. It is eternal and it too
streams from the heavens above. The challenge
we all face when discuss this sheath is that its very mention conjures various
images in our minds. These images are part of the landscape we struggle with
when trying to understand this sheath. This sheath is called the spirit.
It is not
unusual to confuse soul with spirit or even equate the two. And yet they are
different. Whereas soul or as I called it astral, refers to a sheath in which
lives movement, it is in the spirit sheath that which is truly our
individuality. Spirit streams for older words that are associated with
breathing. To inspire, for example, means to breath in the spirit of another or
even more
picturesquely, to breath in the breathe of another. Each of us breathes
and we breathe for ourselves. In this sense, the spirit is about us individually.
This imagination is still difficult to grasp. And yet, when we see any human
being, we recognize easily, the physical nature, the etheric nature and yes,
even the soul nature (not just in the
movement of the other human being, but also in how experiences are expressed –
anger, joy, etc.). Often we stop here. And yet we too see in each human being
an individual, regardless of the similarities which may exist. That which allows us to be individual, and be
perceived as individual is our spirit.
Of course
we can say that animals also have individuality and therefore the spirit may only
be part of the soul. In reality, animals in general do not have individuality –
it is true our beloved pets appear to have individuality but this is also
because we the owners ascribe this individuality to them. Every time we meet
another human being, we do find ways to identify them: a name, a mannerism, a physical
description. In many ways, what we are doing is looking for a way to
individuate them, i.e. to clearly seem them as individual and not just another
face in the crowd (and even this last phrase is a clear indication that we see
individuals, not groups).
Both the astral
and spirit sheaths are humanity’s connection to its spiritual origins in the
same manner that the physical and etheric sheaths are humanity’s connection to
its earthly origins. And just as the etheric is in a way the spiritualization
of the physical world, our astral sheaths are like “materialization” of our
spiritual origins. Thus the spirit on earth has not direct way of experiencing the
earth except through the astral body. In turn, the astral body needs to
penetrate and form a community with the etheric sheath as it rises from the
earth. In this manner, the spirit is to our spiritual origin what our physical
is to our material origin. The spirit is the vessel of my true spiritual nature.
This is the real me.
For us, it
is difficult to talk about our spiritual sheath although many older traditions
still echo this once known connection. If one assumes that the heavens are
always good, true, and beautiful, then in many respects, our spirit sheath,
which originates from there, must always be good, true and beautiful. The
imperfection we live with arises from the penetration of our spiritual nature
by our material essence. This does not mean the physical world is imperfect;
rather, it is non-spiritual in its way and the relationship that needs to be established
between the spirit realm through the soul and the physical realm, through the
etheric, is one of constant rhythm and movement that consciously finding and
hold the harmony is the challenge of our daily lives.
Sources: Theosophy by Rudolf Steiner.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
The Four Sheaths – The Astral Body
The first
two bodies I have discussed are earthly bodies. They find their origin in the
earthly nature of human beings. These bodies are wonderful gifts from our
parents, the mother and father who together bring about the creation of a
physical body that is imbued with life forces. However, most of us also believe
that there is something more to our human nature. We have other bodies so to
speak, neither of them earthly in nature.
These bodies are not gifts from our parents; rather they are from a more
eternal and infinite existence that transcends our material and life bodies on
earth. These two bodies have many names. I am used to knowing them as soul and
spirit. However, the soul, true to its nature, has other names that help in
building the imagination to understand it.
This soul
body is referred to as the astral body or the experience body. Both give very wonderful
imaginations about the nature of the soul. As an astral body, we can imagine
this body as one coming from the stars, i.e. astral. It speaks of the descent
of some body from the stars unto earth entering a physical and etheric body
that has been lovingly prepared by parents. It is as if a star being has come
to live on earth, in a temple that parents have prepared. As in all stars, it
is a being filled with light and movement. Movement is what has also made it
possible to descend onto earth. Stars
were generally perceived to travel across the sky. Modern science may have changed
this view, but it does not change the imagination. Movement is important for
the astral body. Movement is the gift it brings into the physical-etheric
sheaths of the human beings. Animals move too, and the move freely, i.e. not
attached to the earth. Our etheric body is rhythmical. It moves towards the
sun, upwards and in a broadening fashion that also give it every chance to
always face the sun. It is this rhythmical movement is what allows plants to
gaze upon the sun and to grow to such wonderful dimensions. And the sun is a
star. Herein lies the secret of the relationship between the astral body and
the etheric body; the former descends from the heavens to meet the earth; the
latter rises from the heavens to meet the stars. And both meet within the human
being.
Another
useful term for the astral body is the experience body. I heard this term from
an upper school mentor who visited us and help us prepare the upper school. All
of us gain experiences during our lifetime and these experiences must be “experienced”
somewhere. That somewhere is the astral body. Experiences are always full of
movement and many different levels of feeling or emotion. If it were always
still, there would be no need for meditation or relaxation. But we do need
moments of quiet which are reflective of a body full of moment. Just like the imagination of the stars “racing”
across the sky, our experiences fill and course through our astral bodies. Some
of these experiences translate into activities or deeds. Other experiences
simply remain experiences which we may call upon from time to time.
When we
look around us, we perceive many different experiences that are full of movement.
Some of the obvious ones are emotions; some are less obvious such as colors.
But emotions or colors find a home in our astral body as it is a body of
experiences, of movement. If our physical body related to the earth, its
minerals, and the our etheric body to the plant world, to life, to water, our
astral bodies relate to the wind – it is above the earth, in constant movement
yet finding time to touch the earth and meet the earth. The plants dance with
the wind as their arms branch out and their leafy fingers meet and embrace the
wind. The plants share their earthly experiences with the wind, and the wind
brings “movement” to the plants.
Hence our
astral body is our body that allows us to move and to experience things,
phenomena, events. It is what the heavens bring down to earth and with the
meeting of the etheric, creates a necessary link, within humanity between
heaven and earth.
Sources: Theosophy by Rudolf Steiner.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
The Four Sheaths - The Etheric Body
Last time I
wrote of the physical body of the human being. It is every easy to stop here.
After all, this is the body that we perceive and literally “live in.” However, just
as we can derive an understanding of the nature of the physical body, so can we
derive a broader understanding of what constitutes the human being.
As the
physical body is related to our mineral nature, this would also mean that the
physical body would not be alive or imbued with life. No mineral is and it
would be consistent with their nature. And yet, in the material world, we are surrounded
by so much life that there must be more to living things then mineral
substance. Through observation of the
world, we can readily see that there are substances that strike us absolutely
mineral or “inanimate” as we would probably say, and there are other things
that strike as living or “animate.”
Plants, animals, and eventually human beings, constitute pretty much the
second category. And yet, what makes us mineral and animate at the same time? I
will not discuss here, just yet, the different types of “animate” existence
that plants, animals, and human beings have. That will come later, in a
separate discussion. I am only addressing a commonality shared by plants,
animals and human beings in that there is something within that makes them
animate.
All three
share something in common with the mineral world; that is, all three have
distinct forms and shapes and parts of their being that are absolutely mineral
in nature. It would appear, that on top of that, is something else, a body or
sheath that makes them “alive” so to speak.
This living body is evidence also by its absence. When we observe things
we consider to be “living” after they have died, they appear to be smaller or
more contracted in size. Of course one can say that this is the loss of fluids
in the body or air resulting from breathing or any other such distinction.
Could this be all? What if all living things had another body on top of,
surrounding and interpenetrating the mineral body? Let us say such a body exists and for convenience
calls it the life body, the body that
imbues us with life. We can then say
that all living things have a life body.
So where
does this life body come from and how does it arise from the mineral world?
Some process maybe taking place on earth that brings such a body into being.
But what could it be? Let us revisit
this life body or all living things and inevitable, we can see another common
attribute of all living things: all living things lift themselves up from the
physical world.
What does
this mean? Don’t mountains also lift themselves up from the physical world?
Yes, that is true; mountains appear to have a similar gesture. However, the
movement is external to the uplifting gesture. Confusing? Mountains, no matter
how high, are “lifted up” by forces external to the mountain. The collision or
sliding of tectonic plates, the upward push of molten lava to create volcanoes is
activities that are independent and external to the mountain. The mountains are
results of these external impulses. The mountains, internally, have no impulse
of their own to lift up from the physical world. They remain consistent with
the notion of the mineral discussed in the physical body. However, unlike
mountains, all living things have an impulse from within to push up and away
from the physical world. Effectively, it is an impulse within all living things
that make them reach into the sphere of the air or even heavens. This force can be found in the smallest seed;
in the smallest animals, and of course in human beings. All living things grow
or “lift up” from within. This reaching into the so-called “airy regions” that
float above the physical world lends another name to this life body – etheric.
The ether, in ancient languages, often referred to the airy region above the
earth. Hence a body that lifts its self away from the physical world penetrates
the airy world, so to speak, and become etheric.
In this process
of “etherilization,” the density and solidity of the physical or mineral body
is being “lightened” to such an extent that it can lift itself up, no matter
how small, from the physical world. So strong is this impulse that it can push
trees to heavenly limits, and it can have an animal, as large as an elephant,
with extremely dense mineral nature, stand-up.
From this point
I would like to suggest a perspective that can be difficult to imagine. Could
it be that such a process of “etherlization” may also be a process of
transformation to the spiritual? Let us consider spirit in a non-religious
sense. Spirit is about breath (for example to inspire, i.e. to breathe in).
Could it be that the life body or the etheric body is about breathing, the
breath of life? If this were so, then we could say the living things are the
physical world spiritualized, i.e. filled with breathe. To consider this picture would help us
imagine that all living things, big or small, are of mineral nature into which
streams this breathe of life. This would mean that all living things would have
at least two bodies, a physical body and an etheric body. And yes, the mineral
would have an etheric body as well; one that is asleep in the sense that its
breathing is stilled at the moment.
With an
imagination like this, then it becomes possible to see all living things as a
vivid and real-time transformation of our physical world into one that is being
permeated with the breathe of life or spirit.
The world
we live in is a wonderful place with more than meets the eye. Let us be open to
see this as possible.
Sources: Theosophy by Rudolf Steiner, the Nature
of Substance by Rudolf Hauschka, and Nutrition by Rudolf Hauschka.
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