Lesson 42: Displacement

When a large object enters a body of water, the water has to be displaced to make room for the object. The water has to temporarily go somewhere else. What is being displaced has no choice. It would not matter what the collision is. Something has to go. 

All around, you see the fabric of familiarity breaking down. Political, financial, racial, social, and educational systems, to name only a few, are colliding and changing each day. While each of us can offer a plethora of judgments as to why it happening, rise above duality, above the right and wrong, and simply observe the process without judgment. Could the same concept of displacement apply to life on Earth today in 2018? What is being displaced? What is being forced to change? And more importantly, what is causing the displacement?

When Truth enters the human mind, something else has to go...irrational beliefs, games, self-doubt, self-deception, fears, etc. Truth displaces falsehood. Truth replaces the unreal with the real. Understand that consciousness contains a knowledge that is attained by no other means than by self-realization. Your misconceptions about your beautiful Self are displaced when knowledge enters your mind. You realize you are perfect just the way you are and always have been, that there never was anything to fear, and that balance and safety was your nature. Your misconceptions about God as being "out there," hidden, and unattainable are displaced when you experience that God is within you, already there, always has been and always will be. Knowledge reveals that what has always seemed so far away was always sitting right in front of you. The prisoner is free.

Death would have you think otherwise. The longest quote that I will use in this blog begins now as Death, once again, explains and justifies to Savitri why she should abandon this spiritual nonsense and why he, Death, is all there is.

“Prisoner of Nature, many-visioned spirit,

Thought’s creature in the idea’s realm enjoying

Thy unsubstantial immortality

The subtle marvelous mind of man has feigned,

This is the world from which they yearnings came.

When it would build eternity from the dust,

Man’s thought paints images illusion rounds;

Prophesying glories it shall never see,

It labours delicately among its dreams.

Behold this fleeing of light-tasselled shapes,

Aerial raiment of unbodied gods;

A rapture of things that never can be born,

Hope chants to hope a bright immortal choir;

Cloud satisfied cloud, phantom to longing phantom

Leans sweetly, sweetly is clasped or sweetly chased.

This is the stuff from which the ideal is formed:

Its builder is thought, its base the heart’s desire,

But nothing real answers to their call.

The ideal dwells not in heaven, nor on the earth,

A bright delirium of man’s ardour of hope

Drunk with the wine of its own fantasy.

It is a brilliant shadow’s dreamy trail.

Thy vision’s error builds the azure skies,

Thy vision’s error drew the rainbow’s arch;

Thy moral longing made for thee a soul.

This angel in thy body thou callst love,

Who shapes his wings from thy emotion’s hues,

In a ferment of thy body that housed it it must die.

It is a passion of thy yearning cells,

It is flesh that calls to flesh to serve its lust;

It is thy mind that seeks an answering mind

And dreams awhile that it has found its mate;

It is thy life that asks a human prop

To uphold its weakness lonely in the world

Or feeds its hunger on another’s life.

A beast of prey that pauses in its prowl,

It crouches under a bush in splendid flower

To seize a heart and body for its food:

This beast thou dreamst immortal and a god.

O human mind, vainly thou torturest

An hour’s delight to stretch through infinity’s

Long void and fill its formless, passionless gulfs,

Persuading the insensible Abyss

To lend eternity to perishing things,

And trickst the fragile movements of thy heart

With thy spirit’s feint of immortality.

All here emerges born from Nothingness;

Encircled it lasts by the emptiness of Space,

Then crumbles back into its parent Nought:

Only the mute Alone can for ever be.

In the Alone there is no room for love.

In vain to clothe love’s perishable mud

Thou hast woven on the Immortals’ borrowed loom

The idea’s gorgeous and unfading robe.

The ideal never yet was real made.

Imprisoned in form that glory cannot live;

Into a body shut it breathes no more.

Intangible, remote, for ever pure,

A sovereign of its own brilliant void,

Unwillingly it descends to earthly air

To inhabit a white temple in man’s heart:

In his heart it shines rejected by his life.

Immutable, bodiless, beautiful, grand and dumb,

Immobile on its shining throne it sits;

Dumb it receives his offering and his prayer.

It has no voice to answer to his call,

No feet that move, no hands to take his gifts:

Aerial statue of the nude Idea,

Virgin conception of a bodiless god,

Its light stirs man the thinker to create

An earthly semblance of diviner things.

Its hued reflection falls upon man’s acts;

His institutions are its cenotaphs,

He signs his dead conventions with its name;

His virtues don the Ideal’s skiey robe

And a nimbus of the outline of its face:

He hides their littleness with the divine Name.

Yet insufficient is the bright pretence

To screen their indigent and earthy make:

Earth is only is there and not some heavenly source.

If heavens there are they are veiled in their own light,

If a Truth eternal somewhere reigns unknown,

It burns in a tremendous void of God;

For truth shines far from the falsehoods of the world;

How can the heavens come down to unhappy earth

Or the eternal lodge in drifting time?

How shall the Ideal tread earth’s dolorous soil

Where life is only a labour and a hope,

A child of Matter and by Matter fed,

A fire flaming low in Nature’s grate,

A wave that breaks upon a shore in Time,

A journey’s toilsome trudge with death for goal?

The Avatars have lived and died in vain,

Vain was the sage’s thought the prophet’s voice;

In vain is seen the shining upward Way.

Earth lies unchanged beneath the circling sun;

She loves her fall and no omnipotence

Her mortal imperfections can erase,

Force on man’s crooked ignorance Heaven’s straight line

Or colonise a world of death with gods.

O traveler in the chariot of the Sun,

High priestess in thy holy fancy’s shrine

Who with a magic ritual in earth’s house

Worshippest ideal and eternal love,

What is this love thy thought has deified,

This sacred legend and immortal myth?

It is a conscious yearning of thy flesh,

It is a glorious burning of thy nerves,

A rose of dream-splendour petalling they mind,

A great red rapture and torture of thy heart.

A sudden transfiguration of thy days,

It passes and the world is as before.

A ravishing edge of sweetness and of pain,

A thrill in its yearning makes it seem divine.

A golden bridge across the roar of the years,

A cord tying thee to eternity.

And yet how brief and frail! how soon is spent

This treasure wasted by the gods on man,

This happy closeness as of soul to soul,

This honey of the body’s companionship,

This heightened joy, this ecstasy in the veins,

This strange illumination of the sense!

If Satyavan had lived, love would have died;

But Satyavan is dead and love shall live

A little while in thy sad breast, until

His face and body fade on memory’s wall

Where other bodies, other faces come.

When love breaks suddenly into the life

At first man steps into a world of the sun;

In his passion he feels his heavenly element:

But only a fine sunlit patch of earth

The marvellous aspect took of heaven’s outburst;

The snake is there and the worm in the heart of the rose.

A word, a moment’s act can slay the god;

Precarious is his immortality,

He has a thousand ways to suffer and die.

Love cannot live by heavenly food alone,

Only on sap of earth can it survive.

For thy passion was a sensual want refined,

A hunger of the body and the heart;

Thy want can tire and cease or turn elsewhere.

Or love may meet a dire and pitiless end

By bitter treason, or wrath with cruel wounds

Separate, or thy unsatisfied will to others

Depart when first love’s joy lies stripped and slain:

A dull indifference replaces fire

Or an endearing habit imitates love:

An outward and uneasy union lasts

Or the routine of a life’s compromise:

Where once the seed of oneness had been cast

Into a semblance of spiritual ground

By a divine adventure of heavenly powers

Two strive, constant associates without joy,

Two egos straining in a single leash,

Two minds divided by their jarring thoughts,

Two spirits disjoined, for ever separate.

Thus is the ideal falsified in man’s world;

Trivial or somber, disillusion comes,

Life’s harsh reality stares at the soul:

Heaven’s hour adjourned flees into bodiless Time.

Death saves thee from this and saves Satyavan:

He now is safe, delivered from himself;

He travels to silence and felicity.

Call him not back to the treacheries of earth

And the poor petty life of animal Man.

In my vast tranquil spaces let him sleep

In harmony with the mighty hush of death

Where love lies slumbering on the breast of peace.

And thou, go back alone to thy frail world:

Chastise thy heart with knowledge, unhood to see,

Thy nature raised into clear living heights,

The heaven-bird’s view from unimagined peaks.

For when thou givest thy spirit to a dream

Soon hard necessity will smite the awake:

Purest delight began and it must end.

Thou too shalt know, thy heart no anchor swinging,

Thy cradled soul moored in eternal seas.

Vain are the cycles of thy brilliant mind.

Renounce, forgetting joy and hope and tears,

Thy passionate nature in the bosom profound

Of a happy Nothingness and worldless Calm,

Delivered into my mysterious rest.

One with my fathomless Nihil all forget.

Forget thy fruitless spirit’s waste of force,

Forget the weary circle of thy birth,

Forget the joy and the struggle and the pain,

The vague spiritual quest which first began

When worlds broke forth like clusters of fire-flowers,

And great burning thoughts voyaged through the sky of mind

And Time and its aeons crawled across the vasts

And souls emerged into mortality."

Death explains calmly why you, too,  should forget the necessity of this spiritual journey. It doesn't matter. Just forget about it and go about the trivial pursuit of meaningless things in your life and one day you will merge into the hush of Death because that is all there is.

But do not forget and stay on the path. Do not yield and persevere through the collisions of life. Allow the Truth to enter your mind. Say goodbye to your old mind and allow for the displacement of the haunting thoughts and pains of the past to go somewhere else. Let the ignorance be removed and replaced. Allow for the displacement. 

Be still and know that everything you seek is within you. And now understand one of the greatest secrets of consciousness. Nothing can be the object of your seeking because you are the one you seek. You cannot see God until you see You. And when you do, you will see God in everything and everybody and see the Oneness and Wholeness of all things, as the old you fades and disappears. Death has met his match.