A Message From Source

“Source:” Godhead, The Fountainhead, The Absolute, The All in All, Noumenon, The Universe, That. In truth it matters not the term by which we refer to Source; for words deal only with concepts and, thus, always miss the mark. To believe that a name could actually “be”–That–which is Most High only reveals our innocent ignorance and creates a false idol. What matters most is that we think and speak of That Which Cannot Be Named with utmost reverence. This article, which is intended for everyone, contains a message from Source that’s writing itself through the form known as “Art:”

***

“I,”–the only true Self there Is–don’t see you as you see yourselves from your finite perspective. In I, there is no judging of greater or lesser, favoured or unfavoured, sinner or saint. As you are in and of Me, how could I love some of you more and others, thus, less? To do so would be an act against Myself. I Am Love, Itself; and all of you are my spiritual children. It is only through confusion and innocent ignorance of the nature of your Being that you have erroneously believed that you are unloved, unlovable, or separate from Me.

It has been stated that I will never forsake you; that I will be with you beyond the end of time. Such is absolute Truth and you may know this–directly–now. You, space, and time are, in fact, in Me. Before all forms (of whatever nature), Am I. It is I That causes the sun to shine; likewise, your lives shine due to me. I Am the Rock of your Being; and you may lean on me for strength, love and compassion, and I will freely give to you. Each and every one of you are in ME; it’s, thus, impossible for you to ever perish. Through grievous error, you have adopted the belief that you exist due to the body-mind. Such is backward. The body-mind and the Universe appear because “I Am.” You are eternal, immortal, an aspect of That which is beyond the appearance of birth and death.

My dear dreaming children, please awaken to what you ARE. One of your great sages, Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj, clearly stated that “To be a person is to be asleep.’ You have become mesmerized with the world of form. You are neither the body, nor the mind; to believe so leads to tremendous suffering. We are One, Spirit, differing only in degree. Have I not told you through sacred texts that you were created in my image and likeness? I Am the ocean of Consciousness; and all of you are waves in Me. It’s, therefore, impossible to state where I begin and you end. I give rise to all that ever was, is, and will be–for such is my nature. The world and all forms are only relatively real. The real “You” exists eternally because I exist. Lastly, my dear children, please know that you are loved beyond measure.

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

P.S. Please share this article if you enjoyed it. If you’d like to view my latest book (This Taste of Flesh and Bones), press here. My YouTube videos can be found at Think2wice@I-Am-Aware. May the content of either or both help you along your spiritual journey. “Thank You” & “Note to Publishers” 🙏🏻🧡

Consciousness HumAuto

Dial: 1-111-111-1111. Ringggg, ringggg, ringggg.

“Consciousness HumAuto. Wrench speaking. How may I help you?”

“Oh, hi. I’d like to schedule my holographic human for a tune up.”

“Haha–holographic human. Is there any other kind?”

“Good one. No, guess not.”

“Anyhoo, what can I-Am-That-I-Am do you for?”

“My human’s been acting up.”

“How so?”

“Well, it’s always been a little problematic–but even more so, lately. It runs hot or cold. Sometimes it brakes hard and pulls to the left–as though driven by fear; and sometimes it suddenly accelerates and veers right–as though chasing pleasure. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that it had a mind of its own.”

“If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that,” said Wrench. “Sounds like a governor issue, to me.”

“Oh, and another thing, for the last forty years or so, I’ve been hearing a loud tick, tick, ticking–kind of like an internal voice. It’s begins when the alarm goes off in the morning and it doesn’t quit until deep sleep.”

“Is your human judgmental?”

“It wrote the book! It’s also got a really bad shimmy–seems to worry about everything.”

“Humph, it sounds as though it’s picked up an ego-stone in your hubcap. Anyhooo, bring your human in to the shop; and I’ll lift it up on the hoist and give it a good going over. How’s Thursday at 1:00 work for you?”

“Perfect. See you then.”

***

Thursday at 4:00. Ringgg, ringgg, ringgg

“Yelloooow.”

“Hi, there, it’s Wrench calling from Consciousness Humauto. You can come over and pick up your human.”

“Oh, great, how’d you make out?”

“Let’s just say that’s it’s a miracle you were still keeping that human of yours on the road.”

“You don’t say. What did you find?”

“Well, I put it on the dynohumanometer–ran a battery of tests. The harder I pushed that human of yours, the more it resisted. Timing was wayyy off. It was back firing regrets about the past, and belching fears about the future that made my mechanics blush. I did the best that I could to center it in the here and now.”

“I apologize. Thanks for doing all that you could.”

“It’s all good. The main problem was that your Spirit Reserve was dangerously low–your I Am That I Am barely registed on the dip stick. I strongly suggest that you knowingly fill that up again–but that’s up to you. We can’t do it for you.”

“Really? How do I do that?”

“You gotta get out of your mind. I recommend daily meditation, even for just a few minutes. Second choice would be to go for a walk in nature. Just be. That should help put an end to that shimmy.”

“What about that ticking sound.”

“I guessed that one right–your human had picked up an ego stone. That’s what was causing the loud ticking. Yeowee, it was a big one! I don’t know if I’ve ever seen an ego that big. It thought it was running the show. No wonder your human was veering all over the place.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“No charge. This One’s on the House. Trust me, you’re doing the Universe a favour by getting your human in order.

“Thanks, I’ll do my best.”

***

Special Note: Contrary to public opinion, that loud and often annoying tick, tick, ticking commentary that your human makes, isn’t the real YOU. That’s an ego-stone attempting to make your life miserable. The sooner you regain control of your human, the better. Just know that it’s going to rebel. It’s going to tell you that it’s the driver; that it’s normal to brake hard or suddenly accelerate right or left. It isn’t. There’s a balanced way to live in harmony; but to experience that you have to find your Divine Center. A word of advice: Don’t waste time searching for the Center outside of yourself. Turn within–it’s the only place you’ll find It; because you are It. Your essential nature has just been overshadowed by the false driver that goes by your name and description. If all else fails, you can phone us at Consciousness Humauto and ask for Wrench.

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

In The Case of “Stupid”

“All rise,” said the bailiff in a booming voice–there was a loud shuffle of feet as members of the courtoom stood. The bailiff continued: “Court is now in session. The honourable Judge Mary Bullwinkle is presiding.”

The judge ascended the two steps to the raised platform and assumed her position behind the bench.

Mr. Travolta, the attorney for the defense, raised his hand.

“Something on your mind?” said Judge Bullwinkle, with a frown.

“Yes,” your Honour, “may I approach the bench?”

“Only if you do a funny walk.”

Without batting an eye, Mr. Travolta stepped out from behind his desk, did a slide step right, a scoot to the left, and a two-step goose step. After a brief moonwalk, he was there–in front of the bench. Ms. Ciriello, the Crown Prosecutor, sedately stepped forward and joined him.

“Nice work, Travolta,” said Judge Bullwinkle as she leaned forward. “You realize this is highly irregular. We haven’t even begun.”

“Yes, your Honour, I’m well aware; but I believe I can supply evidence that can end this trial before it even begins.”

“Hmph, we’ll see about that,” muttered Ms. Ciriello.

While the members of the court remained standing, the two attorneys conferred in whispers with the judge. Finally Judge Bullwinkle gave a nod and motioned for the bailiff to approach the bench. After he listened to her instructions, he nodded assent and turned around to face the members of the court.

When the attorneys were standing behind their respective desks, the bailiff nervously said, “All of you may now be seated–ahem, except the stupid ones.”

A great kerfuffle erupted. The members of the court sat, stood up again, turned right and left, and yo-yoed between standing or seated positions.

“Do I look stupid?” one elderly woman beseechingly asked the person next to her. “Not particularly,” came the reply.

“I got a “C” once in Home Ed. Does that count?” asked another lady.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” exclaimed a man behind her. “Letters don’t count–numbers do!”

“I’ve never been good with directions,” said one woman nervously. “I got lost twice coming here!”

“I don’t know a great deal about cooking,” stated one man with a glum expression. “I’ve been eating bacon and eggs for years–don’t know how to cook anything else.”

“I flunked History and Geography in high school,” said a young woman.

“My ten-year-old son had to solve my Rubik’s Cube for me,” stated a mother, close to weeping.

“I once purchased polyester slacks,” blurted another lady. “Honestly, I thought they were cotton!”

“I’ve been married six times,” said one lady. “Does that make me stupid?”

“Of course not!” exclaimed the man to her right. “I’m on my seventh–practice, my dear, practice!”

The see-saw of the members of the court seemed unstoppable. With a stern expression, Judge Bullwinkle finally reached for her gavel and slammed it down hard. “Order!” she exclaimed. “All of you–sit down, now!”

Mr. Travolta adjusted his tie. “May I, your Honor?,” he asked with a wave of his hand.

“I wish that you would,” replied Judge Bullwinkle, “since you’re the cause of this mess.”

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” he began.

Suddenly the doors at the back of the courtroom flung open as Jack Nicholson burst into the room and snapped off his trademark sunglasses. After positioning himself mid aisle, he shook a scowl onto his face and bellowed, “You can’t handle the truth!”

“C’mon, Jack, ” said Mr. Travolta, “is this really necessary?”

“Not at all,’ said Jack, grinning nonchalantly. “A guy named Art Russell asked me to do a walk-on.” He then saluted the court, snapped his heels together, and marched from the courtroom.

Mr. Travolta rolled his eyes at the court reporter and said, “Now, where was I?”

The reporter carefully scanned her computer and said, “yada, yada, yada.”

“Oh yes,” said Mr. Travolta, “thank you. I assert that my client, Mr. Dimwatt, has been unjustly accused of “Gross Stupidity” and that all charges against him should be dropped immediately! We’ve just had proof–right here, in this very courtroom–that even you fine folks can’t determine if you’re stupid unless you compare yourselves against someone else. Humans have this insane habit of judging themselves by appearance and performance. It’s nonsense! Isn’t it true that each and every one of us has strengths and weaknesses? Aren’t all of us gifted in our own ways? I’ll tell you what’s really stupid, folks:

Trying to be like everyone else!

Be yourself, shine!

We’re meant to share our unique gifts for the common good.

I strongly urge you–in fact, I beg of you–to find Mr. Dimwatt NOT GUILTY, on all counts! Finally, Mr. Travolta spun around to face Judge Bullwinkle and spiked his best Saturday Night Fever impression. He then bowed and said, “Your Honour, I rest my case.”

Given a few moments to reflect upon the case (and the secret knowledge that she had flunked the Bar Exam twice, and always been a Jack Nicholson fan), Judge Bullwinkle snapped down her gavel and proclaimed, “Case dismissed! Mr. Dimwatt is free to go.”

***

Believe it or not, there’s actually a point to the story: The competitive mindset of humankind is the cause of great suffering and misery. If we desire to express our greatest potential, we must learn to accentuate what’s positive and embrace our innate creativity. We must cast aside our habit of judging ourselves against the appearance and performance of so-called others. Each of us is a miracle, with unique talents and intrinsic value. Isn’t it time that we learned to love ourselves…just…as…we…are?

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

“Role” Call

Many of us may be familiar with an old but well-known hymn entitled “When The Roll Is Called Up Yonder.” It’s been performed by numerous musical artists, including Johnny Cash, Reba McEntire, and Willie Nelson. From what I know of the hymn, its lyrics relate hearing the trumpet call and being called back to be with the Lord, in the non-physical realm, For many, the song may offer comfort in times of grief; and to those I offer my sincere apology in advance as I share this article, which relates an account of a very different “role” being called. I’ll set the scene by sharing that it occurs up yonder and involves an interaction between God and a spirit child with a playful nature. Off we go:

***

God (thinking, clipboard in “hand”): “Okay, please listen up, folks. I’ve just received a somewhat urgent request for a baby on Earth. A couple who lost a baby boy at birth a couple of years ago has their hearts set on conceiving again.”

Spirit Child (eagerly peering over the shoulders of other spirit children, thinking): “Ahh, lovely, a baby, for a couple who dearly desire another child. That’s so nice. “

God (intending clearly and informatively). “The mission is set to depart at 07:00 tomorrow (their time); so whoever goes would be wise to pack their spiritual bags tonight.”

Crowd: (muffled whispery-type thinking): “Ruh-bah, ruh-bah, ruh-ba-hah. Wonder who it will be!“

Spirit Child (shifting, feeling an intuitive twinge at The Master’s call, thinking): “But I don’t really want to leave so soon. I just got back, realitvely speaking; and that last trip was a doosey, as you well know. Mexico–lovely country, but had a dreadful time. Intestinal bug, abundant diarrhea. Ring a bell?”

God (shifting “eyebrows,” with stern but loving look, thinking): “Do you want to evolve…or not?”

Spirit Child (hopeful of being excused): “Oh yes–love to learn. Nothing like it. Let me tell you, I learned a lot during that Mexican vacation. Eat at the resort–ONLY!“

God (making a symbolic “check mark” on the list on the clipboard, followed by a wink): “Love you!”

Spirit Child (rolling eyes): “Love you, too. Don’t worry, I’ll make you proud. I better go pack–07:00 comes early.”

***

Now, to the actual point of this article: You are not now–nor ever were–the role you play here on Earth. That’s it. You are not your body; not your mind; not your gender; not your career; not your degree of success or failure; not your bank account; not your nationality; not your colour, not your race; neither a writer (say, what!) nor non-writer. All of us are far grander than any of our descriptions. In I Am That, Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj stated the following: “You can only be what you are in reality; you can only appear to be what you are not.” We are Spirit (Consciousness), eternal. Our suffering occurs when we erroneously identify with being the role we play. There’s a deeper dimension of Self that’s waiting to be recognized. Are you curious? If so, look within.

Dare to Dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

Bye, Bye, Ego–Hello “Videhi”

For many long years, I believed (as you may still believe of yourself) that I was the body-mind, aka “person.” It would have seemed insane to deny the apparent but erroneous conclusion. Thus, if Art’s body was physically satisfied and his mind mentally stable, “i” was content and happy. If such was not the case, Art used distraction, deliberate focus, and self-help books to rectify the situation. But here’s the rub, of which you’re probably well aware: At some point after circumstances slide to the polar opposite of pain and suffering (pain free happiness), the forces of this earthly realm, which are always in play, invariably slide the person back into challenging situations. Such is the human predicament.

Although none of us would choose suffering as a first (or last) choice as a method to “wise up,” it does serve a useful purpose. As I’ve mentioned previously, suffering reminds us that we have strayed too far from the Truth of our Being and need to change our ways. The degree of our suffering will be different for each of us; for although we are one in Essence, we are unique in character and form. Problems are relative to the person having them. We might view suffering as a tireless loving parent. “Be careful,” suffering shouts, “you’ll get burned if you touch the hot stove!” And time and again, we reach for the hot stove. Is there a way to avoid such needless suffering?

Yes! The solution (which is seemingly insane, yet paradoxically beautiful) occurs when we transcend the perspective of the person and recognize our essential nature. We discover the Truth: That we are in the world, but not of it. Problems are inherent to the body-mind perspective because the person is a creation of mind and, therefore, unstable. One minute, the person is happy; the next minute sad. To overcome suffering, we must realize that the body-mind is not who we are; it’s a constume that’s worn during this incarnation.

Let’s now investigate the Marathi term videhi from the title of this article, in the hope of gleaning more understanding. I was unfamiliar with the word until I noticed it in a book entitled Amrut Laya, The Stateless State by Shri Sadguru Siddharameshwar. In the book, he shared the account of a king who sought a guru to help him recognize his essential nature beyond name and form. The king eventually did; and thereafter the king was referred to as a videhi, meaning “he without a body.” From an online Marathi-English dictionary, we find the following definition: 1. Disembodied, released from the body. 2. Weaned from bodily and earthly enjoyments and pursuits. Please don’t be alarmed by the term disembodied; it’s not as ghoulish as it may seem. Such only means that you realize–here and now–that you’re not the body-mind. You know that you can’t possibly be who you think yourself to be.

Truth: You are Consciousness, Itself–an immortal Being, beyond this place called Earth. Your true Self is of the same quality and nature as that of God, only varying in degree. Your entire life story is but a divine play of God. To realize this directly, I earnestly suggest that you enter the stillness of meditation on a daily basis; for it’s in the placeless place beyond the mind that you will discover that, indeed, you are now–and always have been–a videhi. Awareness is commonly assumed to arise due to body-mind functions; but such has never been proven by science, and it never will be. The Truth is that the body-mind arises due to Consciousness; not the other way around. Bye, bye, ego. Please take your suffering with you.

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

Beyond Appearances

The conversation, which had begun pleasantly enough with idle chit-chat about the weather, sports, and the price of fuel, was morphing into ugliness right in front of Walt’s eyes. The tow truck driver, “Mike” by the name tag stitched to his coveralls, seemed oblivious to the pain he was inflicting. Had it not been pouring rain, and his Volkswagen Rabbit not been hooked to the winch, Walt would have told Mike to stop the truck and gotten out. Non responsiveness wasn’t working, either; it only seemed to fuel Mike’s pressing desire to talk. His hatred seemed boundless as he spewed forth racial slurs, epithets, and insults upon anyone who he deemed deserving.

Onward they travelled westward, jostling in the truck. The windshield wipers obliged with clichéd wump-wump as they beat back the rain. The town in which Walt lived, and the dealership at which they would drop off his car, was only a few minutes away. Walt mouthed a silent “thank you” that he had learned long ago (during a lengthy learning curve) that to engage in verbal battle only risked losing the war. Years prior, he would have foolishly stood toe to toe with such a judging character and, thereby, ignorantly proclaimed himself as judge and jury also. No, not this time. He would be a good soldier and stand down for the rest of this ride.

Not soon enough, they arrived at the dealership. Mike proudly exited the cab; and Walt, as though on automatic pilot, stepped down from the cab and watched as Mike unhooked his car. His only subtle retribution was to refuse to bite the bait of Mike’s hint that “for a few bucks” he could do him a favour by breaking company rules and taxi him home from the closed dealership. “No, thanks,” Walt said, “the walk will do me good.”

“Have it your way,” Mike said, with a toss of his head. Walt watched as the tow truck sped away, and then slung his small backpack over his shoulder and began to walk.

***

At home, Walt immediately changed out of his soggy clothes and gave thanks that the evening was drawing to a close. Still, the events of the evening ride in the tow truck lingered. He realized that persons such as Mike were actually full of self loathing. But what did he know beyond assumptions of Mike’s background? Had he been exposed to such abuse, or even battery, when a child, or told that he was worthless? How had he become filled with such hatred of others? Walt knew that to give love, you must first have it to give. Mike hadn’t expressed anything that even remotely resembled love.

Walt climbed into bed and shut out the light on the bedside table; but he soon realized that sleep was playing hide and seek with him; and no matter how much he tossed and turned, he just couldn’t find it. As with all matters that bothered him, especially those labelled “don’t-know-what to-do,” Walt surrendered the troubling issue to his divine Creator. He followed his instincts and quietly mouthed the following words:

Dear God,

Please help me to see with Your understanding;

To look beyond this world of appearance

And be a conduit of Your wisdom.

Oh, and please look after Mike.

Amen.

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

Beyond “Mice and Men”

John Steinbeck, who is one of my favourite authors, won the Nobel Prize in literature in 1962. His novella entitled Of Mice and Men would undoubtedly be considered one of John Steinbeck’s literary gems. Although shorter than some of his other masterpieces, which include Grapes of Wrath and East of Eden, it is on par with their greatness. This morning, I was struck by an epiphany, which I believe may be at least part of what dear Mr. Steinbeck desired to share with the reader. The revelation relates to the subject matter of my blog and my passion for sharing knowledge related to our higher nature. For those who may not be familiar with his novella, the plot is summarized as follows:

***

The protagonists of the novella, which is set in Soledad, California during The Great Depression, are George Milton and Lennie Small. George is an intelligent man and plays the role of a brotherly figure to Lennie, who is big, strong, and mentally challenged. They both work as migrant farm labourers whenever opportunity presents. We first meet them in a secluded setting down by a river. Lennie has convinced George to retell the details of their dream to one day own a little place which they can call home.

The following day, they begin work on a nearby ranch. As usual, George guides Lennie forward, and all goes well for a while. Key characters are introduced, including the bosses’ son, Curley, and his wife. As the plot unfolds, we’re given a glimpse the characters’ underlying hopes, fears, and dreams. It’s also revealed that Lennie enjoys petting mice, which he often likes to keep in his pocket. At one point, George discovers that Lennie has accidentally killed another mouse; an issue about which he has previously warned him. Within a few days, Lennie accidentally kills a puppy he’s been given, which foreshadows more drama to come.

The suspense builds towards climax when Lennie accidentally kills Curley’s flirtatious wife by breaking her neck. He’s clearly incapable of controlling his inherent nature. When her body is discovered, several of the farm workers form a lynch mob and search for George and Lennie, who have fled the ranch and sought refuge back at the secluded location by the river. The book ends with George mercifully shooting his friend before the approaching lynch mob have a chance to hang him.

***

Although the specific details relating to characters and goals differ from ours, are the general ones really that dissimilar? Don’t all of us desire to find our place in the sun and feel content and at peace? However, all of our hopes and dreams–even if one day achieved–will eventually pass away. To the masses, this may seem tragic; but such will appear particularly so if we’re deeply attached to the person, which is our false identity. Buddha referred to the human condition as dukkha, which basically means suffering or frustration. Jesus endured persecution by the ignorant masses in an effort to reveal to us our true nature. Must we die, as did the helpless mouse and puppy? Human incarnation is a precious gift; for it provides a unique opportunity to recognize our essential nature. Unfortunately, such is often squandered by the masses. Is there an escape from such a seemingly tragic predicament? Yes.

The solution is to discover (re-cognize, know again) the true Self that transcends the “person,” which is actually illusory. We are so much more than body-minds. Discovering Truth requires that we become earnestly curious about our essential nature. In a strange paradox, we discover What–not who–we are by shedding the layers of the false self. Our true Self is eternal, immortal, and irreducible. And that, my dear friends, is a glorious non-end worth realizing before your character’s life draws to a conclusion. Here and now is a great place to begin.

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

Whittling Away

One late summer day, Frank Nash set off walking down the grassy-dirt lane that led to the forest at the back of his hobby farm. He was holding his meditation cushion in his right hand and a canteen in his left. At the edge of the deciduous forest, he stopped, took a swig of water, and then zigzagged his way through the woods, dry leaves crunching underfoot. When Frank came to a clearing, which was speckled with sunlight, he set down his cushion on a soft patch of grass and removed his boots. Wtih a well-practiced move, he then bent down and folded his sixty-two-year-old body upon the cushion. Hands cupped together near his lap, he then closed his eyes, slowed his breathing, and entered the silence.

***

“Whatcha doin’?” came a soft voice an hour later. It was Jeffry, a young neighbour boy from an adjacent farm. He was standing off to the side of a tree stump that was directly ahead of Frank.

“I thought that might be you,” said Frank, as he opened his eyes to the young boy. “I was whittling,” he said.

“But you don’t even have a pocketknife!” exclaimed Jeffry. “You can borrow mine if you want,” he said, with a pat of the right pocket of his jeans.

“Thanks,” said Frank, with a smile, “but for this kind of whittling, I don’t need one.”

“Huh?” said Jeffry. “What kind of whittlin’ is that?”

Frank beckoned the boy to come sit near him, which Jeffry did. “We’ll it’s kind of like sculpting. Do you know much about that?”

“Uh, uh,” said Jeffry.

“Well, the really great sculptors know what’s hidden within the piece of marble before they ever touch it with a chisel and hammer. They know that they’re just releasing the statue that’s waiting inside.”

“Wow, that’s kind of neat! That’s the kind of whittlin’ you do?”

“Yup,” said Frank, “the only difference is that I work on the person.” He offered the canteen to Ralph, who took a drink. “When I meditate, I’m actually just whittling away the parts of “me” that are the costume. I let the story of me fall away, like shavings from a piece of wood, and just “be.”

“Are you looking for something special inside, like the sculptors?”

“Yup,” said Frank.

“Do I have that special somethin’ inside me, too?”

“You sure do,” said Frank, “everybody does. When I meditate, I go within to find my real Self–the I Am. When I do, I stay in peace and commune with my Maker.”

“Ohh,” said Jeffry, with a nod of his head, “that’s definitely a different type of whittling. When I whittle, the regular way, I make little boats and take them down to float them in the creek.”

“Well, that’s a pretty neat way to whittle, too,” said Frank. A few minutes later, Frank and Jeffry were tramping back up the lane, enjoying conversation that flowed easily from the subjects of frogs to airplanes to rhubarb pie. Jeffry thought that one day it might be neat to try whittling without a knife; and he knew his mom would definitely like it “’cause she always worries that I might cut myself with my Buck knife.” As they were about to diverge, Frank said that he’d love to see one of Jeffry’s whittled boats someday.

“I’ll bring one for you tomorrow,” Jeffry called; and with a wave of the hand, they went their apparently separate ways.

***

Note: This article was inspired by the term “whittling away” in a book entitled The Gift of Grace, Awakening To Its Presence, by Paul Brunton. It, as well as another of Paul Brunton’s books entitled Jesus, Krishna, And The Way of Awakening have added to my developing spiritual understanding.

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

Founded Upon The Rock

If we were building a house, how meticulous most of us would be about its construction. At the very least, we would do our best to ensure to employ a great architect, an honest supplier of quality materials, and a builder with a great reputation. Most important, however (as real estate agents inform us) is location, location, location. As such relates to the title of this article, we’re not referring to the superficial appeal of a potential neighbourhood; we’re referring to the foundation upon which we build our home. How ironic that the majority of us pay great attention to the foundation upon which we plan to build a house; yet remain unaware of that upon which we base our life. Perhaps the following passages from Matthew 7:24-27 will help us become curious about our essential nature:

²⁴“Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house upon the rock.

²⁵The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against the house; yet it did not fall, because it has its foundation on the rock.

²⁶But everyone who hears these words of mind and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand.

²⁷The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.”

Without being aware of it, most of us have been building our life (the house referred to in the passages) upon the shifting sandy foundations that ultimately lead to its destruction. Those foundations are false assumptions related to the nature of our Being. We have assumed that we are the person that we believe ourselves to be. Thus, we’re happy when the conceptual person is experiencing situations labeled “good;” and very unhappy when suffering those labeled “bad.” Due to identification with something we are not (and which ultimately proves to be illusory), many of us will spend our life chasing the good times–no matter how much energy is required to do so. We will sacrifice our health, our family, and all of our resources in the pursuit of happiness. And once we finally arrive we are content…until we are not.

In desperation, most persons attempt to correct their unhappy situations through the usual means. Those means (which almost always entail external behaviour), lead persons to believe that having an affair, purchasing a shiny new red sports car, climbing the corporate ladder, having another baby, moving to a new house, becoming more spiritual, or buying another twenty pairs of shoes will correct the underlying dissatisfaction. On and on the not-so-merry Ferris wheel spins, until the person cries, “Stop the ride! This isn’t working anymore!” Suffering, although extremely painful at the time, finally leads us to turn away from the phenomenal world and seek a better foundation upon which to build our life.

What is the rock to which the scripture referred? Nothing less than the very Source of our Being. It’s not something acquired through accretion of mind-based knowledge; it’s heart-based recognition of That which we have always been. Contrary to what we have been conditioned to believe, the phenomenal world, which seems so real, is not the Absolute Reality of our Being–not even close. It is appearance only. What’s Real is Consciousness (aka God). It is That which creates and knows all apparent phenomena. The Infinite cannot be defined; but It can be known directly when we become still. We are not the person we believe ourselves to be. We ARE–period; but not as a “thing.” We are That which cannot be forgotten. To know our essential nature is to build our life upon The Rock.

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

The Regression

Since my teenage years, I’ve possessed an incredible longing to know the nature of our origin. To settle for the common definition of name and form always felt sadly lacking; for it seemed obvious (at least to me) that such was like a recipe that was missing not an–but The–essential ingredient. My deep and earnest curiousity, which has been lessened by a degree of revelation that I once believed impossible to know, has now transformed into a magical appreciation for Life, Itself. As a humble offering to you, my spiritual brothers and sisters, I present the following poem from my youth:

***

The Regression


Compelled by deep desire
To know my true Self,
To find that part of me
Distinct and separate of the body and the mind,
I employed a hypnotist to assist me with my quest.
Eyes closed, entranced, 
I was soon transported aboard a conjured boat.
Amidst the pitch and roll of mystic waves,
I heard the lulling voice of the hypnotist
As he steered me up my stream of consciousness
To discover the Truth of my origin.
Through swirling memories
Entwined with wisps of emotion,
He guided me deep, and even deeper still, 
Beyond my adolescence and childhood,
To the womb.
There, wrapped in the warm flesh
Of my loving mother,
He coaxed me back, farther still,
Until I faintly heard him ask, “Where are you now?”
Bathed in a light and love
Which I intuitively embraced
As both my beginning and my end,
I joyously replied,
“I am with God.”

- R. Arthur Russell -

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

P.S. Please share this article if you enjoyed it. If you’d like to view my latest book (This Taste of Flesh and Bones–released September 8, 2020), press here. May it help you in your spiritual journey. 🙏🙏

“Thank You” & “Note to Publishers”

Think2wice

CONSCIOUSNESS, SPIRITUALITY, & LAW OF ATTRACTION

Category: Love

A Message From Source

Consciousness HumAuto

In The Case of “Stupid”

“Role” Call

Bye, Bye, Ego–Hello “Videhi”

Beyond Appearances

Beyond “Mice and Men”

Whittling Away

Founded Upon The Rock

The Regression

Menu