Finding Meaning in the Darkness

A Dark Night of the Soul and the Discovery of Meaning

Anyone may go through a period of sadness or challenge that is so deep-seated and tenacious that it qualifies as a dark night of the soul. Not long ago I was giving a talk at a university when a man shouted at me from back in the crowd: “I’m terribly depressed. It’s been years. Help me.” I shouted back my email address. In his voice and body language I could see that this man was not caught in some passing depression. His life was broken by some loss, failure, or long-forgotten emotional wound that left him in a desperately dark place.

I reserve the expression ‘dark night of the soul’ for a dark mood that is truly life-shaking and touches the foundations of experience, the soul itself. But sometimes a seemingly insignificant event can give rise to a dark night: You may miss a train and not attend a reunion that meant much to you. Often a dark night has a strong symbolic quality in that it points to a deeper level of emotion and perhaps a deeper memory that gives it extra meaning. With dark nights you always have to be alert for the invisible memories, narratives, and concerns that may not be apparent on the surface.

Faced with a dark night, many people treat it like an illness, like depression. They may take medication or go into counseling looking for a cause. It can be useful to search for the roots of a dark night, but in my experience the best way to deal with it is to find the concrete action or decision that it is asking for.

Engaging the Night

A dark night of the soul is a kind of initiation, taking you from one phase of life into another. You may have several dark nights in the course of your life because you are always becoming more of a person and entering life more fully. At least, that is the hope.

One simple rule is that a truly deep dark night requires an extraordinary development in life. One outstanding example is Abraham Lincoln. With his early life surrounded by death and loneliness and his adult life weighed down by a war in which thousands of young men died, he was a seriously melancholic man who, in spite of or through his dark night, became an icon of wisdom and leadership. One theory is that he escaped his melancholy in his efforts for his country, but another possibility is that the very darkness of his life—he once said, “If there’s a worse place than hell, I’m in it.”—was the ground out of which his leadership grew.

As a therapist, I have worked with people profoundly sad and discouraged, and I join with them in looking for ways to transform that heavy mood into a weighty life. Contemporary people often don’t take their lives seriously enough. This tendency might be an aspect of the cult of celebrity, where we lose sight of our own importance by making too much of it in others.

In the archetypal psychotherapy that I practice, we always say: Go with the symptom. I don’t look for quick escapes from the pain or good distracting alternatives. I try to imagine how a symptom, like a long-standing dark night, might be re-imagined and even lived out in a way that is not literally depressive. As far back as the Middle Ages at least, dark moods were considered to be the work of Saturn, a spirit symbolized by a planet far out in the solar system. He was cold, lonely, and heavy, but he was also the source of wisdom and artistic genius. Look through history and you will find a great number of creative men and women who have struggled with the Saturnine humor.

This ancient idea that a dark night may be connected with genius and inspiration could help us today as we try to be constructive with a Saturnine disposition, like Lincoln’s, or a period of smoky moodiness. We might imagine it as the root and basis of an engagement with life that could give meaning and purpose. This doesn’t necessarily mean that eventually the dark spirit will go away, but it may have a counterweight—some extraordinary creative activity and involvement in life—that will make it more than bearable and may diminish it.

With our contemporary view of anything that looks like depression, we think: I’ll never be happy, never have a good relationship, never accomplish anything. But with the medieval image of Saturn, we might instead tell ourselves: A dark night is the sign of a high calling. My pain and loneliness will prepare me for my destiny.

Finding the Gift in Darkness

There are many examples of men and women who endured unimaginable ordeals and yet contributed in a striking way to humanity’s progress. Nelson Mandela was in prison for 27 years under harsh conditions, yet he never lost his vision and sense of destiny. One of his younger fellow prisoners said of him: “The point about Nelson, of course, is that he has a tremendous presence, apart from his bearing, his deportment and so on. He’s a person who’s got real control over his behavior. He is also quite conscious of the kind of seriousness he radiates.” This is dark night talk—presence and seriousness, the key gifts of Saturn—as a long tradition holds. Mandela’s dark night was an actual imprisonment, not a mood. Still, he teaches how to deal with a dark night. Don’t waste time in illusions and wishes. Take it on. Keep your sense of worth and power. Keep your vision intact. Let your darkness speak and give its tone to your bearing and expression.

The regenerative power of nature grows more beautiful after a devastating forest fire at Yellowstone Park in 1988. photography | Wikimedia Commons, Jim Peaco

As strange as it may sound, there is a temptation in a dark night to slip into enjoyment of the pain and to identify with your emotions and moods. “I’m a lonely person. I’m depressed. Help me.” One striking quality we see in men and women who are dealing with their dark nights effectively is a lack of masochistic surrender to the mood, which can be forceful and dominating.

Mandela had “control over his behavior.” He didn’t succumb. It’s important to live through the dark night, acknowledge it, notice its qualities, and be affected by it. At the same time, it is not useful to be too attached to it or to let it dominate. You don’t want to be the hero who slays dragons and tries to obliterate the darkness, but you do need all the strength of heart you can muster.

While giving a dark night its due, you can also cultivate a love of life and joy in living that doesn’t contradict the darkness. You can be dedicated to your work and your vision for humanity and also feel overwhelmed by the suffering in the world. To do this it helps to have a philosophy of life that understands the creative coming together of conflicting moods. The rule is simple: Human beings can do more than one thing at a time. You can acknowledge your darkness and still find some joy.

An example of the dark night leading to a transformative presence in the world is Maya Angelou, who went from not speaking for five or six years as a child out of guilt and the wounds of abuse to reciting the inaugural poem for Bill Clinton and inspiring millions to make something of their own dark nights. In all her public appearances, Angelou showed both the pain and the joy that shaped her mission in life. She carried her pain throughout her life and yet her joy seemed to increase with her impact on men and especially women around the world.

Angelou’s experience demonstrates in an intriguing way how a dark night might take away your ‘voice’ and then give it back with added power. The question is, how do you go from a dark night to having a positive impact on the world, thus giving your own life purpose?

The first step is to embrace the darkness, take it to heart, winnow out any subtle innuendos of resistance. Then find any images that are trapped in the thick dark mood or situation. Those images may hold the clue to your release and future service. Angelou lost her voice, a fascinating symptom and a strong image, and then became known worldwide for her voice. The cure lies in the illness, the hint at future activity within the symptom. If you tone down the dark elements because they are painful and discouraging, you may also hide the gifts that are there for you.

The Return of Aliveness: The Dark Night of the Soul

By Eckhart Tolle

The ‘dark night of the soul’ is a term that goes back a long time. Yes, I have also experienced it. It is a term used to describe what one could call a collapse of a perceived meaning in life… an eruption into your life of a deep sense of meaninglessness. The inner state in some cases is very close to what is conventionally called depression. Nothing makes sense anymore, there’s no purpose to anything. Sometimes it’s triggered by some external event—some disaster perhaps. The death of someone close to you could trigger it, especially premature death—for example, if your child dies. Or the meaning that you had given your life, your activities, your achievements, where you are going, what is considered important, and the meaning that you had given your life for some reason collapses.

It can happen if something happens that you can’t explain away anymore, some disaster, which seems to invalidate the meaning that your life had before. Really what has collapsed is the whole conceptual framework for your life. That results in a dark place.
There is the possibility that you emerge out of it into a transformed state of consciousness. Life has meaning again, but it’s no longer a conceptual meaning that you can necessarily explain. Quite often it’s from there that people awaken out of their conceptual sense of reality, which has collapsed.

They awaken into something deeper. A deeper sense of purpose or connectedness with a greater life that is not dependent on explanations or anything conceptual. It’s a kind of re-birth. The dark night of the soul is a kind of death. What dies is the egoic sense of self. Of course, death is always painful, but nothing real has actually died—only an illusory identity. Now, it is probably the case that some people who’ve gone through this transformation realize that they had to go through that in order to bring about a spiritual awakening. Often it is part of the awakening process, the death of the old self and the birth of the true self.

You arrive at a place of conceptual meaninglessness. Or one could say a state of ignorance—where things lose the meaning that you had given them, which was all conditioned and cultural and so on.

Then you can look upon the world without imposing a mind-made framework of meaning. It looks, of course, as if you no longer understand anything. That’s why it’s so scary when it happens to you, instead of you actually consciously embracing it. It can bring about the dark night of the soul. You now go around the Universe without any longer interpreting it compulsively, as an innocent presence. You look upon events, people, and so on with a deep sense of aliveness. You sense the aliveness through your own sense of aliveness, but you are not trying to fit your experience into a conceptual framework anymore.

Another important strategy is to avoid making the dark night too personal, too focused on yourself. Yes, you feel it intimately and alone. But it could still have more to do with the suffering of the world than with yourself. Maybe dark nights are generally less personal than they feel. At any one time, beings on the planet are suffering. The planet itself is suffering; it is going through a dark night constantly. If you live in a place where children are hungry and dying in wars and in domestic violence, you are within the realm of the world’s dark night. Listen to political leaders deny climate change and you worry about the future, not of the planet on which you live but the planetary being of which you are a living part. If you can stretch your moral imagination to perceive this suffering, then you will have the energy and focus to work toward a transformation.

Waking Up

By definition, visionary people imagine utopia, a word that means both ‘no-place’ and ‘good-place.’ It is an imagined state of the world in which people are free of their struggle, where at least the basic insecurities and inequalities have been dealt with. But oddly, it takes the pain and despair of a dark night to envision utopia.

Think about it, you wouldn’t be compelled to imagine a perfected life unless you were steeped in its imperfection. The emptiness of the dark night transforms into the no-place of a wonderful world. If you don’t feel the hopelessness of a dark night, you will probably float through life identifying unconsciously with the values and expectations of the culture. You won’t know that there is something wrong, something that calls for a response from you. Personally, you may not feel your being. You may eventually decide that you’re a nobody, for you become a somebody by identifying with the world outside you. Self-realization is not a private psychological achievement managed by a strong will and a hygienic attitude. A strong sense of self emerges when you own and activate the awareness that you are your world. A mystical sensibility and social action go together. Through an essential shift in imagination you realize that you are not the one suffering; the world is.

The real stunner is that when you begin to serve the world, your darkness changes. It doesn’t go away completely; nor should it. It continues to feed your vision of utopia and your frustration at the imperfection of it all. But your personal darkness converts into anger at injustice and then into compassionate vision and effective action. The darkness and the vision are two parts of one flowing movement.

Maybe it isn’t that your darkness eases but that your ego investment in it diminishes. It feels as though it goes away because you’ve been grasping it. There may be a degree of love for the darkness and a disdain for hope. You don’t want the challenge of being alive and engaging the world. It may be easier to sink into the pit. Some people resist participating in the transformation of the world because they glimpse the challenge in it. They will have to give up a long-held philosophy of easy, comfortable pragmatism and, maybe for the first time in their lives, feel the world’s suffering.

You see this pattern of waking up from pleasant unconsciousness to awareness of suffering in the story of the Buddha, and one of the key words Jesus uses in his teaching, not often pointed out by his followers, is ‘wake up.’ But waking up is also entering your dark night instead of remaining in the oblivion of avoidance. You do wake up to a joyful message, the meaning of the word ‘Gospel,’ but the dark night is always part of the picture, the other side of the coin.

The best source in classical spiritual literature for describing the paradox of darkness and vision is the Tao Te Ching, where on every page you are invited to live without polarization. Chapter 14 is a good example: “Above, it is not bright. Below, it is not dark.” ‘It’ is everything. Below, where you might expect darkness, it’s bright. Above, where you think you’d find light, it’s dark. Keep this paradox in mind and you will be neither a sentimental idealist nor a cynical pessimist. You will be part of the transformation of it all because it is happening in you.

from:    http://www.kosmosjournal.org/article/a-dark-night-of-the-soul-and-the-discovery-of-meaning/

Moving into the Holographic Universe

Passage Into The Holographic Universe

by Tom Kenyon

It weighs about three pounds, yet is so densely packed that it contains more connections than the number of stars in the known universe. If anything qualifies as magic, it would be this micro‑universe. It simultaneously controls such a vast array of tasks that it puts the most advanced computers to shame. It bends light into recognizable images and translates sounds into language and meaning. And in an extraordinary magical transformation, it changes biology into the experience of mind. This wizard is, of course…your brain.

It has been fairly well established by brain researchers that we use only a small portion of our brain’s immense potential. I compare this to having a state‑of‑the‑art video camera with stereo sound and using it to take Kodak-type snapshots.

There are various reasons for this “less than optimal” use of our abilities. For one, it has to do with the ways we are educated.

The Education of Limitation

Our current methods of education are still largely based on methods from the Industrial age – -reading, writing and arithmetic. Unfortunately, this way of educating does not prepare children for the demands of the 21st century, nor does it stimulate the brain’s unused potentials. You see, our brain does not switch on new brain cells until there is a stimulus from the environment‑either internal or external.

Research clearly shows that the critical time for brain development is the first two years, followed by a second period of five years. And yet, most children are left to their own devices during the most critical formative time of their nervous systems.

Then these children enter an outmoded educational system that stifles curiosity and discourages independent thinking. Most of us are the products of such “education.”

There is another reason we use so little of our potential brainpower.

The Corpus Callosum

Neurologically, our brain is split down the middle. In some very real ways, we have two brains inside our heads. And these two brains experience the world in very different ways. While one part of our brain can talk, the other side is mute.

The left hemisphere (for most people) is verbal. It talks. It creates and interprets language. It performs this extraordinary feat through two small areas of densely packed neurons in the neocortex. These areas usually sit on the left side of the head around the ear. If these areas are damaged, one can lose the ability to speak and/or understand language.

The left side also perceives the world in a logical sequential way. It likes to have everything in its place.

The right side of the neocortex, however, sees things differently. For one, it does not speak. For another, it is not particularly logical. It is quite comfortable with paradox, the gray areas of experience. It is also at ease with things being out of sequence. It can spot the hidden patterns in things that seem out of place. In normal states of functioning, there is a certain level of coordination between our left and right sides. And what allows us to coordinate these two perceptual worlds into one whole world of perception is a thick band of nerve fibers in the central area of the brain called the corpus callosum. The more neurological connections presumably in the corpus callosum, the more communication there is between the right and left hemispheres. And co‑ordination between the two hemispheres allows one to think both cognitively and intuitively at the same time.

There are very practical reasons for using both sides of the brain. Back in the ’60s, an employee of a Swiss watchmaker discovered a new way to tell time – the digital clock. Excitedly he took his invention to his superiors. They dismissed it. “This isn’t a clock,” they said. “It doesn’t even have any moving parts!” Their tunnel vision was caused by over dominance of the left hemisphere. They could not see outside their box. The digital watch was just too much out of the pattern they expected to see. A small company called Texas Instruments picked up the patent and the rest is history. Switzerland is no longer the watch capital of the world.

As we enter an ever more complex world, we will need to develop greater intelligence and creativity to cope with it.

Since the 1980s I have been intrigued with the use of sound and altered states of awareness to increase brain activity and intelligence. Under the auspices of Acoustic Brain Research, which I founded, I even created a series of audiotapes called Mind Gymnastiks. They are used to this day by hundreds of people to increase brain performance.

As I continued to explore the use of altered states of consciousness to increase intelligence and creativity, I was struck by similarities in people’s experiences. It was common to report a sense of connectedness between themselves and life in general. Some even used the phrase “the web of life,” as if all beings were somehow interconnected in ways that defied logical thinking. These insights were, of course, shared throughout history by many mystics and “explorers of mind” including indigenous peoples. A look at the descriptions left by these explorers of mind shows this quite clearly.

While the mystical description of interconnectedness has a long history, stretching back thousands upon thousands of years, a scientific description of interconnectedness has only emerged within the last thirty or forty. It has been birthed from the science of holography, and is referred to as the Holographic Universe.

The Holographic Enigma

Today, holograms are quite common, but back in the 1970s when I saw my first hologram in San Francisco, they were very rare. I remember walking into the small darkened room of the Haight Holo‑Art Gallery and having my mind blown. The photos seemed to float out of their frames in midair. As I walked around the strange apparitions I could look into the crevices of the images and see things I could have never seen in a normal photograph. Intrigued, I began to study the physics of holograms. A fascinating illogical world started to emerge. As bizarre as it may seem, you can cut off any part of a hologram and the entire hologram can be seen in the piece! How on earth could this be? Well you see, holograms are made by exposing film to lasers, and lasers are comprised of coherent light. Every photon is lined up with every other photon. This is very different from everyday light in which photons are much more helter‑skelter. Every photon, so to speak, listens to its own drummer. But in lasers, there is only one drummer and all photons follow its rhythm and direction.

The methodology used to create holograms doesn’t really concern us here, so I won’t go into it. Besides most people could care less. They just like looking at the strange photos.

Now as I said, you can cut off any part of a hologram and you will see the entire hologram in that tiny piece. Every fragment of the hologram carries the entire image. Another way of saying it is that the macrocosm of the photo is held within the microcosm of every piece.

This is starting to sound more and more like the descriptions of mystics. When persons enter deeply profound altered states of awareness, there is often a universal experience of interconnectedness. And this seems to occur regardless of the context (or dogma) favored by the individual.

A Meeting in the Park

I recall an unexpected experience with the holographic universe in my twenties. At the time, I was walking through a park near my house. It was dusk and I was overcome by a deep sense of calm. To this day, I have no idea what set it off. I had just been studying for one of my classes at the university, and had decided to take a walk.

As I climbed a small hill, I could see a river of cars on the street below. Their headlights were lit, and in the dimming light they looked like a kind of moving Christmas tree.

Suddenly I could sense the drivers in a way that defied logic. I felt their hopes, their desires, their dreams, and their fears. Many were heading home after work. Some would come home to an empty house, some to their waiting families. As my heart swelled from the enormity of the perception, I also noticed that the air was filled with some kind of energy. These types of experiences were new to me back then, and I had no language to describe it. But it felt like love. It felt like every atom of the world was shimmering with love, and in some inexplicable way that love was trying to reach out to everyone, to all beings. It was reaching out to me, to the strangers driving home in their cars, to the birds in the trees, even to the field mice in the grass, and to the crickets chirping in the twilight darkness.

This went on for about an hour, I think. And then the feelings of interconnectedness began to fade. I walked back home, still under the sense of calm that had started the whole thing. But my mind was stirring. How on earth could something like love be in the very atoms of the universe?

I was pondering this when I came to a very odd threshold. I happened to be standing in the dark underneath a large oak branch. The other side of the tree was bathed in light from a street lamp.

I was in the dark, and the other side was in light. The moment felt eerie, as if somehow the mythic world and this one had temporarily met. As I crossed over from the dark into the light, I distinctly heard a voice speak to me – “You can never go back.” I was stunned. I looked to see if someone was standing beside me because the voice was so vividly real. There was no one there. I walked home in silence.

I have since come to know that odd all‑encompassing love to be quite real. The ancient Greeks called it agape, or divine love. It continually emanates to all beings from every corner of the universe. For those who have eyes to see, it can be seen. For those who have ears to hear, it can be heard. But most of us never enter the deeper states of awareness where it can be experienced directly.

Now let me be clear here. That last paragraph is my own opinion based upon thirty‑some years of personal experience with altered states of consciousness. As an explorer of consciousness, that is my experience and my belief. But it is just a belief. It happens to be shared by other Argonauts of the Mind, but it is certainly not a scientific fact or even a premise. There’s no way to measure love, and measurement is the benchmark of science. Without quantification there can be no scientific inquiry.

I have belabored this point because I am in tricky territory. I am straddling the world of science and the world of mysticism. I do believe that science and mysticism will one day fully meet each other, but the methodologies are so different between the two, it requires a different kind of approach than we are used to.

But regardless of what the synthesis between science and mysticism finally looks like, we can, I think, look at some common territory.

My experience, mentioned above, was a classic mystical encounter. Practitioners of virtually every spiritual tradition on the planet have reported it. Even though the descriptions are often quite different, the essential insights of these diverse traditions are the same – there is an essential interconnectedness between life and the cosmos. How this interconnectedness is interpreted varies according to the spiritual tradition, but interconnectedness shows up in virtually all types of mystical experience.

In his book, The Holographic Universe, Michael Talbot discusses the scientific basis for this type of mystical experience. It is great reading, and I strongly suggest it to anyone who is interested in such things. If the theory is correct, we are all part of the universal hologram, an indispensable piece to the cosmic puzzle. Not only this, but because we are holographic by nature, the whole cosmos is inside us. This is indeed one of the fundamental teachings of most Perennial Philosophies and mystical traditions. In some inexplicable way we carry the cosmos within us. And the exploration of one’s own consciousness eventually takes one into the cosmic realms of existence. We are like mobius strips. On one side of the strip we are isolated individuated primate humans. Yet at the same time we exist on the other side of the strip as well. On that side of things we are part of the whole. We are One with all life and the entire cosmos is inside us.

Such things seem illogical to our usual ways of thinking. But in altered states of consciousness, we can dip our toes into a different kind of world, a world of extraordinary paradox.

I suppose it is because I have worked so extensively in the area of brain research, but I think that a lot of mystical revelation (like interconnectedness) is triggered by changes in brain state.

I recall many years ago when I started getting EEG readings of subjects listening to Wave Form (a recording I created under Acoustic Brain Research). Many of these persons had profound non‑ordinary experiences including sensations of floating, moving through space and yes, feelings of interconnectedness. Now this part was not surprising, but where the brain showed the response was most intriguing. It was at a point on the top of the head. This one area showed massive increases in theta, more than any other areas in the brain. And this point just happened to correspond to the crown chakra in yoga, what is sometimes called the thousand‑petaled lotus. This chakra is associated with the transpersonal or universal states of consciousness.

This was intriguing. And I spent part of my time over the next few years looking at how such a response could be replicated consistently. Eventually I came to the conclusion that such responses are part of a larger brain patterning, and are related to the person’s psychology and values. In other words, while some persons listened to Wave Form and traversed the universe others just got really relaxed. And some just went to sleep!

I recall an incident with a cardiac specialist once who listened to Wave Form for the first time. His cohorts had urged him to listen to it since they were considering the possibility of using it in their outpatients’ stress management program. The skeptical doctor donned a pair of headphones and sat back in his executive chair. He reported being bored at first, then kind of dozing off, but not really going to sleep. Then he heard the distinct sound of a locomotive. Wondering how in the heck a locomotive could be in his office, he struggled to open his eyes. To his amazement, the sound of the locomotive was actually the sound of his snoring!

Virtually everyone who listened to Wave Form demonstrated that it was highly effective at generating profound altered states of mind, but the content varied widely depending upon the individual.

Another part of the mystery, in regards to brain function, came into focus when I came across the recently published work of Andrew Newberg, M.D., author of Why God Won’t Go Away. Using advanced neurological monitoring devices, Dr. Newberg was able to identify an area of the brain that seemed to be crucial in mystical experience. He and his associates looked at brain activity in various meditators. Some were Christian mystics, some were yogis, some Buddhists, etc. Dr. Newberg collected meditators like some people collect baseball cards. He gave each subject a button. When they touched into the deepest state of meditation they were familiar with, they would push it.

This marker would be set against the “real‑time” readings of the brain to see if there were any commonalities in brain states. And there was. Regardless of the tradition, spiritual lineage or methods of meditation used, the same area responded.

This common point in the brain was identified as the orientation area. This neurological center is responsible for orienting us in space. When we walk across the room, for instance, the orientation area co-ordinates sensory information to help us avoid bumping into things. During such moments the orientation area is very busy routing sensory signals. Its cells are very active.

But during states of meditation, the orientation area went to sleep! Its cells were simply not processing sensory information. It was, in other words, no longer attending to the perception of external space.

I think that this radical shift in the orientation area is probably due to a shift in attention. By design, meditation is a process of attending to internal space. One lets the perception of external space drop away. And what’s left are experiences from the source of internal space itself – the mind.

I had mentioned earlier that diverse mystical traditions universally report experiences of interconnectedness. And such feelings are often accompanied by changes in perceived space.

The phenomenon of perceiving the holographic universe (or mystical interconnectedness) seems to be intimately connected with changes in perceived space – and time, for that matter.

Meditators also universally report the feeling that time becomes profoundly altered during their inner journeys. One client, for instance, experienced the birth, evolution and death of the entire universe with its attending sense of endless time. When she opened her eyes and looked at her watch, however, only about fifteen minutes had passed.

There are indeed fascinating non‑ordinary perceptions that often occur during periods of deep meditation. And one of these concerns the perception of non‑corporeal intelligences, sometimes called energy beings.

In Western culture, such things are deemed non‑sense, and in a way they are non‑sensory. One cannot perceive them with the five senses. Rather they are, more often than not, perceived directly through the internal senses of the mind.

Many cultures and spiritual traditions talk about these unusual beings. Indigenous cultures, for instance, are quite clear that these beings are real and that they can be interacted with.

Many Christians believe in angels and these too, are energy beings. In fact I have had experiences with so many angels over the years, I take them rather matter of factly.

Now it may seem like a long leap from the holographic universe or interconnectedness to disembodied beings. And one can, in fact, experience interconnectedness without ever running into one.

Infinite Pool, the CD

But it was an energy being who turned up in meditation one day, and told me that it was possible to accelerate evolution of the holographic brain through sound.

This energy‑being turned out to be an akul, a being known as an “ancient one” by Egyptian alchemists. These beings are extraordinarily evolved and this particular akul taught me how to use sound patterns in new ways.

My opinion on the matter, having interacted with energy beings from numerous lineages and cultures, is that some of them have invaluable information to share with those willing to listen. My test for validity is whether their suggestions have practical value or not. In the case of this akul, I immediately recognized the consummate level of knowledge he demonstrated. And after recording the program in all its complexity, I was even more convinced that this was something of extreme value.

The other thirteen voices are those of another group of beings I have been working with for several years now. Known as the Hathors, they are masters of sound and love. When I first encountered them, in meditation, I had already been working in the area of sound for over a decade. But their knowledge far surpassed my own, and they opened new vistas I never even imagined. For the last few years, my group of mentors has grown to thirteen, and the other voices you hear on the recording are them singing “through” me.

These voices create complex standing wave patterns within the brain. As a result, exceedingly intricate geometries are created within these standing wave patterns. This is, for all intents and purposes, sacred geometry in action. The effects of these geometries are multi-dimensional in nature (meaning that several dimensions of consciousness are accessed simultaneously, depending upon the development and awareness of the listener). It’s hard to describe unless you actually hear it, but I’ll give it a try. Imagine sensing, inside your head, an ever‑oscillating field of sacred geometry. Sometimes you sense a circle of light, sometimes another geometry. Each point on a geometric shape emits a tone. As the tones switch on, the corresponding areas of the brain associated with those points are activated in ways that are quite unusual.

In addition to this, complex imagery arises, seeming to float inside the head. These images flow from one’s own inner world and are natural expressions of multi‑dimensional consciousness.

I believe that the development of multi‑dimensional consciousness is one of our next natural evolutionary steps and one that can be self‑generated. In other words, we don’t have to wait for others to develop this capacity; we can attain this for ourselves. There’s good reason to do this – the development of multidimensional awareness increases both intelligence and creativity.

In a more esoteric arena, the cultivation of multidimensionality, allows one to “track” several states of consciousness simultaneously. Esoteric knowledge is much more effectively retrieved and utilized by a mind that is capable of multiple awarenesses at the same time.

Multi‑dimensional consciousness is sometimes referred to as the holographic universe, and the portal to this universe is through your own brain.

Through this doorway, you can visit worlds and gain insights you never imagined possible. Indeed, after experimenting with this program for the last six months, I am convinced that it will prove to be an invaluable tool for those wanting to access the brain’s extraordinary potentials.

from:   http://tomkenyon.com/holographicuniverse

Eckhart Tolle on The Dark Night of the Soul

Eckhart on the Dark Night of the Soul

Eckhart Tolle
a message from Eckhart Tolle
Friday, 7 October, 2011

Have you ever experienced the dark night of the soul?  Your teachings have been so helpful through this difficult period.  Can you address this subject?

The “dark night of the soul” is a term that goes back a long time.  Yes, I have also experienced it.  It is a term used to describe what one could call a collapse of a perceived meaning in life…an eruption into your life of a deep sense of meaninglessness.  The inner state in some cases is very close to what is conventionally called depression.  Nothing makes sense anymore, there’s no purpose to anything.  Sometimes it’s triggered by some external event, some disaster perhaps, on an external level.  The death of someone close to you could trigger it, especially premature death, for example if your child dies.  Or you had built up your life, and given it meaning – and the meaning that you had given your life, your activities, your achievements, where you are going, what is considered important, and the meaning that you had given your life for some reason collapses.

It can happen if something happens that you can’t explain away anymore, some disaster which seems to invalidate the meaning that your life had before.  Really what has collapsed then is the whole conceptual framework for your life, the meaning that your mind had given it.  So that results in a dark place.  But people have gone into that, and then there is the possibility that you emerge out of that into a transformed state of consciousness.  Life has meaning again, but it’s no longer a conceptual meaning that you can necessarily explain.  Quite often it’s from there that people awaken out of their conceptual sense of reality, which has collapsed.

They awaken into something deeper, which is no longer based on concepts in your mind.  A deeper sense of purpose or connectedness with a greater life that is not dependent on explanations or anything conceptual any longer.  It’s a kind of re-birth.  The dark night of the soul is a kind of death that you die.  What dies is the egoic sense of self.  Of course, death is always painful, but nothing real has actually died there – only an illusory identity.  Now it is probably the case that some people who’ve gone through this transformation realized that they had to go through that, in order to bring about a spiritual awakening.  Often it is part of the awakening process, the death of the old self and the birth of the true self.

The first lesson in A Course in Miracles says “Nothing I see in this room means anything”, and you’re supposed to look around the room at whatever you happen to be looking at, and you say “this doesn’t mean anything”, “that doesn’t mean anything”.   What is the purpose of a lesson like that?  It’s a little bit like re-creating what can happen during the dark night of the soul.  It’s the collapse of a mind-made meaning, conceptual meaning, of life… believing that you understand “what it’s all about”.  With A Course in Miracles, it’s a voluntary relinquishment of the human mind-made meaning that is projected, and you go voluntary into saying “I don’t know what this means”, “this doesn’t mean anything”.  You wipe the board clean.  In the dark night of the soul it collapses.

You are meant to arrive at a place of conceptual meaninglessness.  Or one could say a state of ignorance – where things lose the meaning that you had given them, which was all conditioned and cultural and so on.  Then you can look upon the world without imposing a mind-made framework of meaning.  It looks of course as if you no longer understand anything.  That’s why it’s so scary when it happens to you, instead of you actually consciously embracing it.  It can bring about the dark night of the soul – to go around the Universe without any longer interpreting it compulsively, as an innocent presence.  You look upon events, people, and so on with a deep sense of aliveness.  Your sense the aliveness through your own sense of aliveness, but you are not trying to fit your experience into a conceptual framework anymore.

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