OF THE SMILER'S LIES/DECEIT CAN TARNISH THE
GRACE INFLOW/OVERFLOW OF THIS LIFE
ONLY CAUSES THE LIFE TO BE A LIE
TO THE POSSESSION OF GRACE*
*THE SMILER ARCHETYPE
"...the most ancient of man’s tempters and enemies:
the hater who deceived you
with a smile and a joke and a promise."
Hostage to the Devil
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Everything will fall into place quite naturally.
Avoid excessive indulgence in your thoughts.
It is essential to cut off all that senseless mental chatter.
Listen to the sound of your breath
and solutions will come quite naturally...
just when you need them.
WHICH IS BEYOND THE WORDING
is most often human life.
They want to heal the disharmony between the actual and the real:
in the white-hot radiance
of that faith, hope, and charity which burns in them,
they discern such a reconciliation to be possible,
they are able to work for it with a singleness of purpose
an invincible optimism toward others.
BE, RATHER THAN DO...
ALL DOING DISAPPEARS
AS ONE IS MOVED BEYOND WORDS AND THOUGHTS
BEYOND PERSONAL AWARENESS
IS ALL THAT REMAINS
in which the mystic swims with delight.
Bowl of Saki, December 11, by Hazrat Inayat Khan
Commentary by Hazrat Inayat Khan:
One must not only be an artist; one must become art itself.
Then to the one who is so absorbed in his work that he forgets himself,
that capacity, that intuition, that skill will come naturally.
He begins to do wonders,
and his art becomes a perfect expression of what he had in mind. ...
People think that it is the artist who has made it;
in reality, it is God who has perfected it.
As it is God's pleasure to create the world,
so it is also God's pleasure to create through pen and brush and chisel,
to give life to what is lifeless.
whatever his art may be,
will come to realize that it is not he who ever achieved anything;
it is someone else who came forward every time.
And when the artist produces a perfect thing,
he finds it difficult to imagine that it has been produced by him.
He can do nothing but bow his head in humility
before that unseen power and wisdom
which takes his body, his heart, his brain,
and his eyes as its instrument.
Whenever beauty is produced in art, be it music,
or poetry, or painting, or writing, or anything else,
one must never think that man produced it.
It is through man that God completes His creation.
Thus there is nothing that is done in this world
or in heaven that is not divine immanence,
which is not divine creation. ...
Art is the creation of beauty in whatever form it is created.
As long as an artist thinks that whatever he creates
in the form of art is his own creation,
and as long as he is vain about his creation,
he has not learned true art.
True art can only come on one condition,
and that is that the artist forgets himself
-- that he forgets himself in the vision of beauty.
... We are vehicles or instruments that respond.
If we respond to goodness, goodness becomes our property.
If we respond to evil, then evil becomes our property.
If we respond to love, then love becomes our possession.
they want to be free and independent,
but at the same time they always expect something from others.
They never stop asking that others think of them,
love them, help them, or do their work for them.
This is so contradictory.
Everyone has their worries and problems,
and so not surprisingly people think of you one day,
but forget you the next.
you would still be dissatisfied.
Because others cannot give you what you really need.
You must work to acquire it.
What you really need is to become more reasonable,
stronger, more patient and more enlightened –
this is how you will become freer.
And it is only you,
through your own efforts,
who can achieve this.
Omraam Mikhael Aivanhov
and just really notice what is....
....everything just opens up.
The heart opens in unexpected ways,
making healing possible where only
walls seemed to stand.
broken, but when we really look,
we discover that we inhabit an
improbable wholeness instead.
It's not entirely logical amidst the
world's fear and suffering,
but look for yourself and see.
our actions become more effective and lasting.
we become capable of
where there was only anger and hatred...
Excerpt from a commentary on a poem by
at Poetry Chaikhana
Awakening From Our Illusions - Ivan Granger
Only human beings are trying to save – their joy, their love, their everything.
you become available to Grace.
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The Smiler Archetype
HOSTAGE TO THE DEVIL
THE SMILER –
Hostage to the Devil
“Nothing was ever the same again, until after I was exorcised.”
It was not so much what Marianne had learned.
It was rather what she had become.
“I was not another person. I was the same.
Only I was convinced I had become free
by being totally independent and by what had entered me
and taken up residence inside me.”
As always before, the Breakpoint came at the precise moment Peter least expected it. It started with a sound difficult to describe. A horse whimpering. A dog whinnying. A man meowing. It was the very sound of pain. Of nature violated by unnature. Of deep agony. Of protest. Of helplessness. “Supposing a cadaver, after the death rattle and after the grimacing of the last breath was over, started to cry for help, what do you imagine it would sound like?” Peter asked later in an effort to describe this indescribable sound. “Or supposing when you were closing his dead eyelids with your thumb and forefinger” (he made the motion with spatular fingers) “and supposing you missed one eye, and it looked up at you still glassy and dead-you know how they look-and it filled with genuine tears.
That’s the feeling. Something reaching out from the middle of all the worms and putrid flesh and stink and body water and silent immobility of death, saying: ‘I’m alive! Pull me out! For the love of Jesus, save me!’ That was Marianne when the Breakpoint began. The tug of war for her soul that nearly broke me in two.”
The Presence was everywhere and nowhere. Peter fought off the instinct to step back or to look around or, most of all, to run far and fast. “Freeze yer moind,” had been Conor’s advice. “Freeze it in luv. Shtick there, lad.” But, Holy Jesus! how? The Presence was all over him, inside him, outside him. A total trap of cloying ropes he couldn’t see. He heard no word, saw no vision, smelled no odor. But his skin was no longer the protective shell of his mortality. His skin didn’t work! It was now a porous interface that let the invisible filth of the Presence ooze in. Worst of all was the silence of it. It was soundless. Suddenly he had been attacked and caught; and he knew his adversary was superior and ruthless, that it had invaded deep into the self he always hid from others and hoped only God did know and would never show him until he was strong enough to bear the sight.
Smiler, the cosmic joker, smears and tears at everything, Peter was thinking to himself, as he ruminated and groped toward his next step. Smiler, who turns memories to dirt and chokes you with them. But then he’s not subtle. And he’s not clever. Peter thought: This is either a trap for us, or we have Smiler trapped. Which?
Then a low, long cry came from Marianne’s lips. All in the room held their breath as the Voice gurgled and they made out the words with difficulty: “I will take my toll. I will take our pound of flesh. All 142 pounds of him! I will take him with me, with us, with me!” Complete silence. Then Marianne’s voice: “Smiler. I just smile.”
Peter glanced at her face. The name was obvious, now he knew it.
The twisted smile was back on her mouth.
Now, he realized, he had to deal with
the most ancient of man’s tempters and enemies:
the hater who deceived you with a smile and a joke and a promise.
The cleverness of it. How could you suspect or attack someone called Smiler?
And if they just smile at anything you do, what can you do?
The whole thing-God, heaven, earth, Jesus, holiness, good, evil-becomes a mere farce.
And by the evil alchemy of that farce,
everything becomes an ugly joke, a cosmic joke
on little men who in their turns are only puny little jokes.
And, and, and . . .
the utter banality of all existence,
the wish for nothing.
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HOSTAGE TO THE DEVIL
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