First something happens inwardly and then it happens outwardly. Where we make our mistake is in giving the word “outwardly” too much power. We begin to hope for outward results and that is the very essence of sleep.
This morning I woke up imbued with a physical ecstasy. I brought it in here to the keyboard to share with all of you. From whence did this ecstasy arise? It can only come from the mystery of being alive and present. Now my fingers of flame are burning up the keyboard in the mystery of inner connection with the outer.
There is a book called Daughter of Fire, written by Irina Tweedie. Some of you know it well. One person has had the privilege of sitting with Mrs. Tweedie. Her book is huge; my mother said I was probably one of the few people who read it word for word. Heck, I have read and reread it, underscoring passages, pondering the mystery….
My life has been licking at my feet for a long time now; but so has yours. We are only, as Elton John said, candles in the wind. This is monumentally difficult to grasp because our fingers get burned in the very attempt. Fire is dangerous and all-consuming.
If we know that we are fire, what can we do with that sure knowledge? For one thing, we can remember that we are also water.
“Book knowledge is useful to some extent. There are books written by enlightened people, scriptures, and so on. On the level of the mind you will accept this and reject that. But to verify what is written, one has to realize. Then one will know the truth, absolutely, only then. But until this happens, one has to be content with books.” ~Bhai Sahib, speaking to Irina Tweedie