friends and family
around the fire
stomachs full
our heads
tilting
toward night sky
all the celestial bodies
so vast
I have to stretch
remember
remark
remind
“this is no ceiling”
No Dome
Curiosity
“If there is a Domain where enduring Joy can be found and a kind of Knowledge which solves all problems that here distress the soul of men, then what is of greater importance than that men should find the Way to reach this Domain?”
Franklin Merrell-Wolff, Pathways through to Space
I read the above quote and can’t help but reflect on the recent “Curiosity” landing on Mars. A one-ton rover, making a 354 million-mile journey, descending from 13,000 miles per hour to two, slowing to land with delicate precision upon its dusty surface.
A milestone in space history? Most definitely. A fantastic feat? By all means. And am I, too, curious of what could be discovered on Mars? Yes, of course.
But I’m also curious what else we could do with the $2.5 billion it takes to fund this roving seeker-of-clues. Maybe something right here at home, where we still have some chores to do before we leave the house for a new adventure.
Curious about this Domain that Merrell-Wolff speaks of. Is it possible that our own human form can be the ultimate traveling vessel? That if we quiet ourselves enough – body, mind, spirit – we may find a place within that can take us to the answer of every eager question?
Is it possible that we could find some quintessential space/place, beyond geographical mapping, inside our very selves? A landscape within our being that transcends all launches and landings. Could this Domain exist as more than just a place to leave or go, but rather a divine state, to not only be experienced, but lived?
That to go there wouldn’t cost a dime but for our intention and our time.
I’m curious.
Living the Answers
The toast pops up, Jeb’s breakfast is ready. I’m wrapping up a quick morning catch up on the phone with my girlfriend who lives in California. She’s just dropped her kids at school and has pulled up to her next appointment.
She and I, we grab these windows. Try to make our time on the phone potent within the frames we’re given.
At the end of our conversation, she leaves me with some gems. Three questions, ala Deepak Chopra. The “Soul Questions” that he suggests be asked, daily, before going into meditation. I wipe the butter from my fingers and jot them down before we say goodbye.
Who am I?
What do I want?
What is my dharma (life purpose)?
Deepak’s advice: “Ask the questions…and then live the answers.”
So I don’t have a daily meditation practice. Even my regular yoga practice has had a hiccup since school ended and summer has Jeb home with me in the mornings. So I’ll do the hybrid thing for now and just try to remember to contemplate these questions throughout my day – like when I’m washing dishes or chopping garlic.
Or, like now, when it’s 5:30 in the morning and I’m typing at the computer. All is swirling around in my early morning head and there seems to be some thread between Deepak’s questions and that Stan Lee documentary we watched last night. The one featuring all of these people doing “superhuman” things.
Take Eskil Ronningsbakken of Norway, for example. What’s his dharma? I don’t know but the man has certainly found his place – right in the pocket – to be able to balance himself in such precarious positions. His epic aerobatics manifest the visual proof of being perfectly in the moment.
As I drive to my next appointment and juggle summer camp, work and the monthly phone bill, it’s a stretch for me to remember to ask my soul questions. But if I don’t, I can watch myself fall down into a rabbit hole of rat-race nonsense, so bleak and hopelessly unbearable.
I try to give that gaping, vacuous hole a wide berth. Stay far from its sucking edge. But some days its pull is stronger than others.
These Deepak questions seem to be a panacea for falling into this senseless abyss. My soul longs to live the answers. But how?
I suspect Deepak and Eskil probably have a phone bill to pay, too. But they seem to be mastering that sweet spot. Lingering at some consummate threshold – the true Divine – where the mundane and the profound entwine.
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