suffering on the path

A friend sent me The Three Books of the Absolute by Richard Rose: a 7 page rumination on our existential situation as those who would suffer the death of our egos, looking for ulimate transcendence. A number of sections of it really struck me, so I've pasted them below followed by the letter I wrote him in return.
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I sought Thee, O Eternal Essence, in the grottoes and in the tabernacles. I called out thy name to the stone ears of statues. And thou answered not.
I sought Thee in the voice of nature. I looked for Thee in the footprints of animals, in the habits of birds. I listened for a revelation in the murmuring of waters and in the soft moaning of the forests. I laid my ear against the roaring cataracts and bared my head to the tempests. But Thou answered not.
I have sought Thee, O Eternal Essence, within my self. I have sought Thee in my mind until I was cursed with confusion. And I saw Thee not.
Then, O Eternal Essence, I sought Thee whence I came. I sought Thee in my womb. As the wild beast flees from the elements into his cavern where his wild dam littered him, so I fled the darkness of my clay. And naught did I find but the turbulence of my imagination. There in chaotic pattern did I find the seeds of all confusion that pretended to be wisdom. Where man was born was also born his gods. Where man was born was also born his demons. . . .

I, O Eternal Essence, beseech Thee,--where within Thee have I dissolved myself?
Where are prisoned those who follow love? Where have I left my I-ness, and now having left it, who is it that cries out to Thee? Where is the dirge of sorrow that is all that remains of me? Who feels this pain that burns and consumes, yet is felt not by I-who-am-no-more? Who is it that looks from the windows of my mansion like a strange prowler? Who is it that hears and hears
not, that yearns for life and lives not, that seeks out death and dies not....?
O Ever-Allness, what is Thy pleasure in my sorrow? Thou hast damned me to thoughtlessness, and yet I cannot leave off thinking, and still my thoughts are not words. Thou hast robbed me of my soul and mind, and my body laments for all ages, for my body dies not nor yet walks among men. Thou hast delivered me from my Ego, and what is there that remains? O Ever-Allness,
forever insensate, pitiless to entreaty, speechless to my prayers,--weep Thou with me for I am of Thee....and all that remains of me is Thee. . . .

Relax ye and die and live the darkness, and enter the impassive pool of the Unknowing....
Who shall extol the memory of man that leaves him often before his life....Who remembers after life? If man forgets his infancy before his manhood is upon him,--what shall he remember hence....shall he remember nothingness? Desist and enter the pool of the Unknowing....
What is time, O mind....? Is it the number of steps in a day,--the number of thoughts in a step....? Then of the thoughts in a day, how many years of days would it take to know all that is know, and then how long,--to know the magnitude of the Unknowing....and how many steps will take thee from here to there? Who shall anoint thy limbs?
Though he who forgets more seems greater than he who strived not and died in ignorance....who shall know....who shall know? Mourn ye for the hour when the cloud of the Unknowing passes and the falseness of light dazzles the eye. For the light is a liar unto the Light, and the light is the darkness of the mind. Yet who shall know....?

And soon I see, looking ahead, that all my joys are not, that all my love is not, that all my being is not. And I see that all Knowing is not. And the eminent I-ness melts into the embraces of oblivion. It melts into the embraces of oblivion like a charmed lover, fighting the
spell and languishing into it. And now I breathe Space and walk in Emptiness. My soul freezes in the void and my thoughts melt into an indestructible blackness. My consciousness struggles voiceless to articulate and it screams into the abysses of itself. Yet there is no echo. All that remains is All. My spark of life falls through the canyons of the universe, and my soul cannot weep for its loss....for lamentation and sorrow are things apart. All that remains is All.

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and I answered my friend from the bottom of my heart:

thank you!!! :) :) :)

I resonated in many places with the solitariness, the utter futility of any human action, thought, perception . . . but then I diverged strongly from where he went with it . . . because I cannot and will not imagine my ability to perceive, to be, to experience as anywhere approaching our creator's. For I believe we are created, I believe it is the only sensible belief. I cannot get caught in the solipsism, even narcissism of the endless return on myself, always questioning, always pushing beyond my last construct - for I know I will never clear the constructs - of that I am now sure. Oh, I will again and again break free from them, but again and again my ability to identify myself, to see myself in contrast or with others, this basic dualistic perception of creator and created will return. I love the I AM, I love the total identification with the God-head that being his child suggests - but I also know that I am limited to partiality until one day I know as I am known, and this is perfectly okay with me.

I remembered today a development in my realization I may not have shared with you from my time "on retreat:" First I found myself singing a little ditty that had manufactured itself in my consciousness "Out on a limb, out on a limb, out on a limb for the Lord" some days or weeks later I noticed it had changed to "dancing on a limb, dancing on a limb, dancing on a limb for the Lord." Finally as my dance became more and more abandonned, I found myself singing "drifting on the wind, drifting on the wind, drifting on the breath/spirit of the Lord." and so I've drifted ever since, occasionally getting hung up on this or that worldly identification, this or that preference for self-identification, but then again waking up to it, letting go and starting to drift again.

I don't know how this painful part of my drifting is going to go - I think I must be resisting now - not wanting to let go of what I've already lost, wanting to retain some vestige of my former life (family, money, career, prestige - yes - to be honest I can see myself yearining sometimes for these things) and so I burn as I cannot grasp, but try to grasp, cannot let go, but it's being torn away from me - is already gone from my failing fingers. Yes I am physically weaker now . . . I am sagging in some extistential way . . . it hurts a lot, I often find myself weeping easily . . . but my friend - I do know that despite my suffering that I'm held, that I'm going through a painful patch of somehow resisting letting go - I don't know if this is my ego's final battle - I'm wearily afraid that's it's just another of an endless set of rounds I will do in the ring, until finally I am released to BE all that I AM.

I very much appreciate you stimulating this in me - I am grateful to our God for inspiring you to break through my walls of passivity and lethargy, prompting me to write again about my experience, and in writing to make progress, to get closer to that inevitable breakthrough - that liberation I can almost see if I stand on tip-toe! :) heh heh - of course it is not by any effort of mine that it's going to come but only from God-incidences like a good friend whacking me over the head with such an evocative piece or writing! You are such a good friend! Thank you!

And so dear reader, I close. If you made it this far, perhaps you also know something of this painful journey, this determination to be free from illusion, free from the world (prestige, possessions, etc.), free from self-centred concern, free to BE, free to BE love, free to BE with whomever we're given, free to go where the Spirit leads us. If so, well met, and God's blessing continue to rest on you, flow through you, and grace you in every way!