Khidir
Letting
the Divine Being live life through us is the essence of every genuine
spiritual path, a truth that has been expressed in countless myths
and stories since time immemorial, not only by Paul (it
is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me).
After all, modern humankind is meant to become the eyes of the One;
in other words: Being in
the World. On this is based an ancestral tradition inherited
by mystics, such as the Sufis who say this glorious event takes
place “where the two seas meet”, the point in which Moses could
meet the Wise Khidir, that enigmatic Green Man present in so many
tales, even the Celtic lore [1]. A figure that represents the “living
contact” with the Wisdom that comes out of Life itself, not out of
books or teachers of flesh; external teachers can only point to the
True Master of All. The Divine can shine and teach on every aspect of
our lives, if we are awake enough to recognise His Love Story.
To
listen more about this point, it is worth listening to the talk and
chapter Where the Two Seas Meet [2], to which the following excerpt
belongs:
Why
can we not just give our self to this love, to this power? Why do we
fight, try to defend our self, swim against the current? This too is
part of our human drama, the doubts and distress, the anger that can
come from deep within. It is not easy to surrender, to give oneself.
We are not made in this way. It takes time to bow down before God.
And we have to bow down again and again, always when we are most
vulnerable. And yet from this battering by love something is born, a
silence, a quality of being, a softness that belongs to love’s
sweetness. There are so many ways the Divine comes alive within us.
This inner alchemy is the promise of the heart: that if we stay at
the place where the two seas meet we will be changed, that love will
reveal its secrets, secrets that are both human and divine.
The
divine secrets are in many ways more obvious: experiencing the
oneness that belongs to all of life as well as to our relationship
with our Beloved, the endlessness of love, its intoxicating bliss,
the inner peace it can bring, the compassion. There are many
qualities of our divine nature. But what of the human secrets that
are revealed? What are we shown about this sea of our self? Yes,
there is the ordinariness of life that is given back to us, the
simplicity of “chop wood and carry water.” Traditionally Khidr
appears in the most ordinary form, often over-looked until he has
passed: the fisherman we met on the bridge, the child who smiles at
us. And in these ordinary moments any image of our self with
difficulties or problems disappears and we experience life with a
freshness that belongs to the moment; maybe we catch the laughter
that is at the core of things. We are more fully alive.
I
would like to say that this is all of the story, this return to the
simplicity of our self. It has the quality of a return to Eden,
recapturing the innocence of a childhood we may have never had. There
is no judgment, just pure awareness and often joy. Watching the birds
in flight, seeing a leaf fall in the wind, we experience life as
fully present. I have been given such moments, which, like a fire in
winter, give warmth and light. But what of the person who has made
the journey: are all those stories just lost in this sunlight? Does
anything remain of the traveler? I have come to believe that even
when every
image of our self has been dissolved like dew, there is
still a story that has a meaning and a purpose. Love’s journey
brings many scars, often scars in the heart, and they do not all fade
away, even if their drama has lessened. They tell us something about
what it means to be human, to stand at the place where the two seas
meet, to see the dead fish become alive. And yet, because in moments
of real experience there is no time, just the instant that is, these
stories do not belong to any past; they are simply a part of what is.
They are an essential part of our human mystical experience, our
deepest knowing of our self.
For
so long I tried to leave myself behind, to abandon it like the wreck
of an old car. But always something remained, calling me back. Again
and again I tried to avoid it, tried to purify it with love, dissolve
it with light. Yet it still remained, as if its story needed to be
told, its meaning uncovered. And this is where I am at this moment,
with wonder and sadness, knowing that there is part of my own story
that is still waiting. It is no longer a story of struggle and
transformation, the pain of separation, the bliss of union. And yet
it carries the remembrance of these states. It also carries a
reminder that we are always separate from our Beloved, always a
servant at His feet, even in the presence of the knowing that
separation is an illusion and all is one.
So
who is this person who is present at this place, whose light is part
of the light of God even as I need to live it in my own small life?
What really happens when these two seas come together? Do they mix
and blend as one, or does each sea retain its own qualities, one
speaking of an infinite ocean, the other of an ordinary human
experience? How do they come together inside of me, and what story do
they tell?
When
Moses met Khidr at this place he asked, “Can I follow you, that you
may teach me some of the knowledge and the guidance bestowed upon
you?” But Khidr said that Moses would not be able to bear being
with him, for “How can you stand that which you do not comprehend?”
(Sūra 18:68). Three times Moses tried to follow Khidr, until finally
he had to leave him, unable to bear his actions. On this journey it
appears that the human and divine part ways, and yet the path of the
mystic is to bear what we cannot understand, to follow without
knowing why. Direct experience cannot be explained to the rational
self: we must leave our Moses behind at the water’s edge. And yet
there is also a human self who makes the journey with Khidr, who does
not question or seek to understand. This is the self that remains.
And
through this self something is revealed that is hidden from the
vaster dimension of our being. It is not just the struggle and
confusion, the longing and love, the giving of oneself and attempt at
surrender. It is not even the simple awareness of the moment that
sees the world with an open eye. Our human self can come to know
something about this meeting of the human and divine—a meeting that
takes place every moment in every breath, and yet is hidden so
quickly by the patterns of existence, by the play of colors and forms
we call life. Every moment the Divine comes into existence, and every
moment this mystery is hidden the very instant it is revealed. It is
quicker than a heartbeat and is so easily overlooked. You can only
see it if you are at the place where the two seas meet, where the
Divine and human come together. If you look just towards the Divine
the light is too bright to see it. And if you are caught in the
dramas of being human you will be too slow to notice it.
But
every moment this secret is present. It is a moment of divine
intention, a spark of divine purpose, that is at the same time our
intention and purpose. It is said that we each have a unique, divine
purpose, a note of the soul that we alone can play. And this unique
note can only be played in this world, in time and space, in the
limited world of forms. In the inner worlds that stretch beyond the
horizon there is other music, beautiful celestial sounds. But here,
in this world, we each have a calling and a purpose, and it seems
much of life’s journey is to try to live this purpose, play this
note. It is the greatest contribution we can make.
In
each of us there is a longing to live this purpose, to “find the
meaning and make the meaning our goal.” This is what calls us on
our journey through life, and for some people, if they are fortunate,
it is played out through the events of their life, a life which then
becomes deeply meaningful and fulfilling. They are living their
life’s purpose. Of course it is also easy to be sidetracked, caught
in the illusions of the world, its pleasures and pain. Then we lose
touch with our unique purpose and life becomes gradually more and
more meaningless, however we may try to fill it with distractions.
For some people spiritual life offers a way to try to regain this
meaning, to reconnect with this purpose, and yet it also has its own
distractions, illusions of light or “spiritual development.”
There are so many ways to get lost in this world.
But
underneath the play of events, the seeking for meaning and purpose,
the losing and finding, is this simple meeting of the Divine and the
human: the divine purpose coming into human form. This is what takes
place where the two seas meet—this is the meaning of Khidr
appearing as an ordinary person. Because one of the greatest
mysteries is that there is a divine purpose that is only revealed in
this world of forms, and as human beings we carry this purpose in our
hearts and in the light of our consciousness. We carry the light of
the divine coming into existence, the wave of the divine sea meeting
the wave of the human sea. We are the divine purpose being made
manifest. This is the hidden love story of the world, which the Sufis
call the secret of the word “Kun!” (“Be!”).
The
currents of the Divine come to meet us and we come to meet the
Divine. And in that meeting we merge and are one, as two waves coming
together, and yet also remain separate—because as Ibn ‘Arabī
reminds us, “the servant is always the servant and the Lord is
always the Lord.” This is the promise and the pain of the mystic:
we long to return to love’s infinite ocean, to merge back into the
source. And yet we have to remain here in this physical world of
multiplicity to play the unique note of our being. We have to honor
what it means to be a human being even if we have tasted what it
means to be dissolved in love.
[1] Check the story Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, not to be missed, for it is full of living Wisdom.
[2]
Excerpt
from final chapter of the book Fragments
of a Love Story: Reflections on the Life of a Mystic. The chapter can be read on:
The
author Lewellyn Vaughan Lee reads and comments on it in the following
talk:
