We are used, maybe, to containing our light within the confines of the personality self we present to the world. In many ways that’s served us well. But is is a containment; there are limitations. W.H. Auden’s short poem expresse one twentieth-century man’s sense of those limitations:
Some thirty inches from my nose
The frontier of my Person goes,
And all the untilled air between
Is private pagus or demesne.
Stranger, unless with bedroom eyes
I beckon you to fraternize,
Beware of rudely crossing it:
I have no gun, but I can spit.
Even if we allow ourselves a more open sense of energy field, Auden, I think, expresses something most of us can recognise.
A city of light allows a far greater spaciousness for our individual energy fields; more room to breathe, you might say. Like computers linked together in a network to perform functions beyond the capacity of any individual computer, there’s scope for realisation and knowing to come to that expanded, shared energy field. There is a sense of overlap in a wholly positive way. For we are able to share with one another all that helps us, uplifts us or aligns us with Divine Will. It offers a stability too; just like the outrigger to a canoe or the multiple hulls of a catamaran, the connection, vivid and moment by moment, with the light of others, brings us balance.
0 Responses
Stay in touch with the conversation, subscribe to the RSS feed for comments on this post.