tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4974930021787592212012-01-25T07:17:05.977-08:00Paul Hedderman in PrintJames Saint Cloud.noreply@blogger.comBlogger11100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-497493002178759221.post-36282164301474024932010-06-04T12:54:00.000-07:002010-09-06T17:46:57.471-07:00<span style="font-size:180%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G4NVpIRYaII/TAllgqiL6oI/AAAAAAAAAqc/g3_tqqRPItg/s1600/Book+Lady+Aimee+Stewart.bmp"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G4NVpIRYaII/TAlhw26CbeI/AAAAAAAAAp0/roRJo_cRg74/s1600/Wish+Aimee+Stewart.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G4NVpIRYaII/TAlhw26CbeI/AAAAAAAAAp0/roRJo_cRg74/s400/Wish+Aimee+Stewart.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479017913673477602" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G4NVpIRYaII/TAlhwTFGFNI/AAAAAAAAAps/HzVtG-JqJpI/s1600/aimee_stewart.png"><br /></a></span><span style="font-size:180%;">You’re a verb. Just awareness, what’s happening moment by moment.<br /><br />Then the mind makes a thing of you. A noun.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G4NVpIRYaII/TAllgGOJvLI/AAAAAAAAAqU/dzC8FXcJi8A/s1600/Beak+Visitor+Aimee+Stewart.bmp"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G4NVpIRYaII/TAllgGOJvLI/AAAAAAAAAqU/dzC8FXcJi8A/s400/Beak+Visitor+Aimee+Stewart.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479022023773109426" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:180%;"><br />That's where the problem starts. The mind is playing God with the movement of consciousness.<br /><br />Consciousness becomes a commodity you trade, like stocks. You need a three-day retreat. Why? To have a story: Now I’m a spiritual person.<br /><br />But how can a body ever become spiritual? It’s always going to become spiritual as a body. That defeats the whole purpose.<br /><br />If you are spirit, why is there any need to become spiritual? You already are!<br /><br />As a body it seems, “If I become spiritual, it will bring advantage. So let me try grafting some spirit onto me. Listen to talks by the masters and do some study."<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G4NVpIRYaII/TAllgqiL6oI/AAAAAAAAAqc/g3_tqqRPItg/s1600/Book+Lady+Aimee+Stewart.bmp"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 271px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G4NVpIRYaII/TAllgqiL6oI/AAAAAAAAAqc/g3_tqqRPItg/s400/Book+Lady+Aimee+Stewart.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479022033520814722" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:180%;"><br />When you’re sensing the presence of yourself, that’s the truth’s absence, literally. When you sense this (slapping the body) as being absent, that’s presence. It takes absolutely no time, there’s no practice, no debate. It’s obvious. </span><span style="font-size:180%;">It’s the sense of your absence.<br /></span><span style="font-size:180%;"><br />Let’s say you have an epiphany. The heavens open up.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G4NVpIRYaII/TAllf_YBdlI/AAAAAAAAAqM/o-zyiEPvpbg/s1600/sunburst.bmp"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 283px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G4NVpIRYaII/TAllf_YBdlI/AAAAAAAAAqM/o-zyiEPvpbg/s400/sunburst.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479022021935461970" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:180%;"><br />Did you make a reservation for it? Did you call up ahead of time? Put on the right music for the event?<br /><br />No. It just burst through, interrupting your linear story of life as a noun, your sense of being a historical action figure.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:180%;">The </span><span style="font-size:180%;">mental process </span><span style="font-size:180%;">has been stunned into stopping.<br /></span><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:180%;">There are huge gaps in selfing. Anything can startle it into stopping. There is that pause, an eternal moment out of time. The whole thing stops and there it is, it opens up. And you get a free sample of the infinite. Whammo!<br /></span><span style="font-size:180%;"><br />There came the epiphany. I bet when it ended it coincided with this thought: “I just had an epiphany!” Yeah?<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:180%;">The epiphany is an event. Then there is the mind's reaction to it. Claiming it.<br /></span><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:180%;">The mind says, “I, this long-lasting independent separate entity, just had this spiritual experience.” Yes? It just neutered the whole event by claiming it.<br /><br />The epiphany was not an experience you had, it was the absence of the selfing!<br /><br />At that moment there was only awareness.<br /><br />The moment was set free again, out of its box. Out on the wing.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G4NVpIRYaII/TAllhNfbjhI/AAAAAAAAAqk/7bCsOonUsLA/s1600/Box+of+Butterflies+Aimee+Stewart.bmp"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 318px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G4NVpIRYaII/TAllhNfbjhI/AAAAAAAAAqk/7bCsOonUsLA/s400/Box+of+Butterflies+Aimee+Stewart.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479022042904497682" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:180%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G4NVpIRYaII/TAlhxdfD4-I/AAAAAAAAAqE/4Bivb6oyTNM/s1600/Box_of_Butterflies_Aimee_Stewart.png"><br /></a><br />///////////////////<br /><br />For a complete list of Short Slaps: <a href="http://paulheddermanslaps.blogspot.com/">http://paulheddermanslaps.blogspot.com/</a></span> <span style="font-size:180%;"><br /><br />Art by Aimee Steward, used with permission. See more of Aimee's art at: Foxfires.com</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/497493002178759221-3628216430147402493?l=stolenepiphany.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>James Saint Cloud.noreply@blogger.com0