We all have reference points for being obsessed with something or someone so that everything else is obscured. Obsession for God is an affair of the heart; it’s not about the intensity of practice. Obsession may be necessary at some point since only it will get us where the path leads. Coming to the point of not having anything else to live for is at the heart of being obsessed with God. The waking state may not be something permanent but something we move in and out of. Experiences we remember from childhood may have occurred when we were in the waking state. Obsession for God is an internal process. It can occur while being functional in the world and not stuck in a mad state of God consciousness. Everything starts with self-interest, including getting on the spiritual path. We can’t have obsession for God without obsession for life; maybe they are interchangeable. Obsession is more than dedication or commitment. A fire in us has to be carried in a vessel. Practice seals up the cracks and makes a useful vessel. Obsession can be cultivated by seeing what’s in the way of it becoming a blazing fire. Real teachers can provide a spark for practitioners to get a taste of how life is when we go beyond ourselves, but it’s not exclusively available through them. It can come from nature, a love affair, or in other ways unique to us. Some artists are obsessed. We can be attracted to being on fire and resistant at the same time since obsession for God means the obliteration of who I think I am. Engaging practices over and over may not produce what we are looking for. We can make everything practice. A shake-up provided by the universe can totally reorient us. With obsession for God, we may find that God actually is everywhere. Matthew Files facilitates groups that support people to look deeper into their process, formulate their own questions, and become responsible for their choices.

How do people relate to a tradition once the teacher is gone and there is no authorized leader to carry it forward? An important distinction is that a tradition is intended to serve the Work and that practitioners are not obligated to serve the formality of the tradition without deviating from a formula. An element of continuity of wisdom is willingness to embrace a degree of risk. In some communities, there’s fear of wiseacring, a Gurdjieffian term for screwing up. If we’re open to learning, mistakes are part of the path. Can balance be struck between being true to an original tradition and responding to the conditions of the world in a way that keeps the teaching alive? The idea that size matters is a Western construct. It’s not up to us if fewer people are interested in the Work; yet we can serve those with spiritual need if we are sincere and open-hearted. Some believe that the age of the teacher is over and that the teacher-student relationship is problematic if bounds of conventional propriety are crossed. But by design the teacher pushes boundaries beyond programming and comfort zone, which is not a license for self-gratification. We don’t know how the future is supposed to unfold and can cultivate a “Don’t Know” state. It’s a natural tendency to cling to the familiar, but this must be released for the path to reflect our being. We don’t know how transmission happens, but we can feel its magic. We learn by demonstration. The secret to development is to align with a higher will. We can cultivate trust and receptivity, but don’t have to be perfect to transmit what we’ve learned. Conversation among practitioners is a useful human tool on the path. Rob Schmidt and Stuart Goodnick run Tayu Meditation Center and founded Many Rivers Books and Tea in Sebastopol, CA. They invite spiritual teachers, practitioners, and authors to articulate their stories on The Mystical Positivist podcast.

"Don’t Know, Go Straight" is a teaching that came from the Korean Zen master, Soen Sa Nim. We have two minds: thinking mind, and “before thinking” mind which is without thought (Don’t Know Mind). This is the mind of the moment, our true nature. Thinking mind, from which problems arise, obscures Don’t Know Mind. Yet, we need thinking mind to do all kinds of things. Our limitations are often mental constructs. Going straight refers to our need to act. When we come from Don’t Know Mind, we are shown the next right action to be taken. So, we don’t need to worry about what to do. Don’t Know Mind actually knows. It is a full body awareness, not just mental. We develop clarity by practicing coming from emptiness, without preconception. From the perspective of self-observation as described in the Gurdjieff work, conscience grows and informs our actions. Across different spiritual paths, there is the necessity to know who we are. Emotions stir up confusion. Practice is not about repression but holding or being with them without attachment to them. True fear is useful, and we can discriminate about right action when facing it. Being scattered or expressing stream of consciousness is different than Don’t Know Mind. Each moment can bring us back to this mind. Compassion isn’t something we do—it’s something that arises when we see clearly in a Don’t Know moment. There are different kinds of thinking mind, such as analyzing or checking minds. We see Don’t Know Mind in children. When we come from Don’t Know Mind we are more responsible since we take the whole into account. Humor arises out of Don’t Know Mind when we see the ridiculousness of our opinions. Elise Erro (e.e.) has been committed to a life of engaging spiritual principles and service through theater, support for the dying, and bringing enjoyment to others as a chocolatier.

We can look on irritation as a reality check since reality inevitably falls short of our expectations. Irritation can be destructive to spaces and relationships when it becomes anger. It is a gift in that it can show us something about ourselves and remind us of our intention to work. There is a lot of energy associated with irritation which can go elsewhere when recognized. Irritation can be triggered by external or internal circumstances such as being hungry or tired. People may provoke discomfort or irritation, but this reaction is often about issues from our past that we project onto others. Conscious sacrifice in not reacting to the unpleasant manifestations of others can be a challenging way to work on ourselves. We can learn to use skillful means when we need to address situations that are irritating. The greatest work we can do on the path is show kindness and compassion to others. We are easily irritated when our comfort is threatened, and habits make us comfortable. Reactivity for human beings seems to happen at light speed. We can’t catch it, but we can catch our outward expression. When things are going well, we tend to revert to old habits and go back to sleep. A deeper level of irritation occurs when we come in contact with the Work. It doesn’t go away since the dilemma of incarnation is not something we can resolve, but it can be used as food for evolution and transformation on the spiritual path. The longer we do spiritual work, the more vulnerable we become and the more susceptible to irritation. Irritation says something about our deep structure. A Master may provide irritation for others to see things in their unconscious. There would never be a pearl if the oyster was never irritated. David Herz is a spiritual practitioner who lives in Paris where he has been a journalist, technical writer, communications officer, and an English instructor at universities.

The heart of transition is navigating liminal space. This in-between place offers an entry point into reality, a portal into deeper relationship with oneself and the Divine. We are continually in the process of transition. Each transition is an invitation to awaken to possibility, to consciously go with life rather than resist it. In the Vedic tradition, tirtha is a Sanskrit term for a crossing-over point from ordinary to sacred space. Hospitals, churches, and airports are transitional places. Everything in the universe is food; we just have to figure out how to use it. Savasana, the corpse pose in yoga, can be used to practice dying. We will encounter trials and crises on the path, an inner overturning such that things will never again be what they were. To transform, we must understand that our present form and the way we conceive of ourselves and the world has to disappear for another reality to appear. Winning without losing anything is a vain and illusory hope of ego. There’s suffering and struggle but also joy and love in letting go. What if we turned toward transition rather than away from it? We have a capacity to totally agree with the moment. We have to remember to breathe during transitions. If we can relax, we’ll have no problem. We can learn to befriend the cage we are in. A gap is a place where the shoreline we have left behind is no longer visible and the shore we are heading for is shrouded in uncertainty. The Way is for heroes. Part of us is afraid, but another part is courageous. There is joy in comradeship and companionship on the path. When we are in transition, it is useful to consider the inevitability of it. Michael Menager is a musician, singer, author, and modern-day troubadour whose third album is titled Line in the Water. Mic Clarke is a writer, practitioner of Vedic astrology, and mental health social worker. Both live in New South Wales, Australia and are students of Lee Lozowick.

"Live and learn" is part of the design of a human being which comes naturally to us as children. Messages we receive in our family and society lead us to abandon our instinctual freedom and to develop habits about how to be. But the ability to live and learn remains dormant, and we may learn how necessary a spiritual path is and how we need to make it our own in order to realize its possibility. The Work refers to a system taught by G.I. Gurdjieff but also—in a broader way—to transformation which is available through different traditions or streams of the Great Work. Both effort and surrender are needed on real paths. We are all blind in some areas and, if we are honest in our self-observation, there are parts of ourselves that we don’t like. Being asleep can be considered as seeing only a sliver of reality since we are focused on ourselves. Also, we relate to the world through filters which overlay reality. The Work isn’t about being saved. Despite our insignificance in the universe, it (or God) needs our help. If we simply admire those who have served the Work in the traditions, we will not take responsibility for it. Making the Work our own is discussed in terms of practice with the details of life, strengthening the container until at some point we have majority vote to serve that which needs us, working with childish parts of ourselves and our weakest link, putting ourselves on the line, loving what we do not love, being in relationship to everyone, supporting others in their work, holding our seat without being territorial, dealing with pride and vanity, following the spirit of the law over the letter of the law, not separating life in the world from the Work, keeping agreements, and cultivating emptiness. The Work is about relationship between God and us. VJ Fedorschak is the organizer of the Western Baul Podcast Series and author of The Shadow on the Path and Father and Son.

Living a fluid life is about engaging what life gives us. As we walk through life, we’re walking through the movie we’re creating through our projections, which make life appear solid. But life or reality is fluid and dynamic, changing every moment even if we don’t usually notice. The source of the effort to confirm our solidity is an uncertainty about whether we exist. We use references points outside of ourselves to feel separate. We are always going to have stories; it’s our attachment to them that we have to give up to allow the fluidity of life and to see life as it is. The paradigm or consensus reality we live in is very materialistic. Coincidence and synchronicity signify the fluidness of life leaking out. If we’re aware of nonduality we don’t have to identify with what’s happening in duality. Paradox is when two contradictory ideas are both true. We are exposed to reality when faced with paradox. Our story is created by the mind pretty fast, before we realize it. If we think we’re self-observing and feel bad, it’s not self-observation. What we are mostly afraid of is our own projection, which has nothing to do with reality. Our projections are useful in that they point us in the direction we need to work. To mechanically complain or explain ourselves makes life solid and leaves no room for fluidity. When we go with what shows up in life, we are happier and carry a lot less weight. We sell life short when we make things solid. If we can go with life when it shows up differently than expected, then what happens in place of our preferences can be just as good or better than what we wanted. This can have a ripple effect in our lives. When we let go of little things, we experience freedom and lightness that encourages us to let go of bigger things. Juanita Violini is an artist and writer/producer of interactive mystery entertainment who has been a student of the spiritual path for over 35 years.

Lectio Divina (“divine reading” in Latin) is a centuries-old tradition of being inspired by reflecting on the text of a scripture. It may also be considered in terms of “reading” creation and what Thomas Merton called the “calligraphy of nature.” Merton (1915-1968) was a Catholic monastic and mystic whose writing impacted vast numbers of Christians by introducing them to a perspective on Eastern traditions they had never been exposed to before. He used his journaling as a portal into prayer, an entryway to clarity of thinking and love for God. He acknowledged times of doubt, fear, and anger and wrote with self-honesty and courage through it all. Merton walked a razor’s edge in monastic life as his writings were subject to censorship in the Church. He met Tibetan Buddhist masters, considered Zen, Hindu, and Sufi teachings, and reported his own nondual experience. He wrote about the Vietnam war and had communications with Martin Luther King, Joan Baez, and many other public figures and writers. Merton stayed the course within the Catholic Church, sensing that God had placed him where he was. He was much loved by those resonant with the roots of mystical Christianity and maligned by those who were rigid and felt he had gone outside of the bounds of his faith. His overriding context was that all of life is a play of God. He felt that our desire to go where God wants us to go is praise of God and that “The gate of heaven is everywhere.” Journaling can be a way of communicating with the deep self, our highest self. Prompts were given to those who attended the talk, and some shared their journaling about “what I know and don’t know about prayer.” Regina Sara Ryan was the editor of Hohm Press for 35 years. She is a workshop leader, retreat guide, and author of The Woman Awake, Igniting the Inner Life, Praying Dangerously, Only God, and other books.

Spiritual traditions have deep roots and have proven themselves over centuries to produce fruit. On the path, we experience the longing of the heart, the intuition of what is possible for a human being. Longing has no conclusion, no end. Our survival instinct has a limit, but longing has no limit. It’s unusual for someone to be interested in traditional spiritual training unless they are with a group of people who have experienced longing. When spiritual life becomes stronger than survival instinct, training becomes personal and we may find that we cannot work through life long obstacles on our own. Many want training on their terms. The price for training is deeply held beliefs. Traditional training has the strength and clarity to produce calm-centered knowing. Many self-announced teachers have no accountability. The fruit of longing has the quality of having no life of one’s own, described in the traditions as a mood of joy, delight, relief, gratitude, and discovery. Effort is needed to develop fearlessness and mental stamina. We almost always make decisions based on invisible motivations. We pick up influences that trigger a physical and subtle response and pass them on to each other. Our choices are colored by the influences we have collected. Intuition of the Beloved can carry us. The content of spiritual traditions may no longer suit the context of cultural situations. The content falls away; the context can never fall away. The practitioner’s greatest gift is to hold their seat and practice invisibly. We can develop an aim for spiritual life and make decisions based on that aim. When we’re talking about traditional spiritual training, it’s all about relationship. Lalitha is a spiritual teacher with an ashram in British Columbia, Canada, who was empowered by her master Lee Lozowick in 1998. Her books include Waking to Ordinary Life and Cultivating Spiritual Maturity.

The reality of impermanence and the inevitable experience of loss is enough in life to give us a wound. On the path of transformation, we need a broken heart that only God—which can be referred to in many ways such as the Divine or the Absolute—can heal. Heartbreak is extreme in the times we are living in. Bittersweet has an in-between quality where we experience different deep feelings at the same time. Caring is needed to work with bittersweetness in an alchemical way. Grief is a spiritual enzyme. A broken heart encompasses the suffering of the world; it can be inspirational and turn us to want to relieve the suffering of others. A broken heart can teach us how to pray and have humility in the face of the awe, wonder, and mystery of creation. We can’t understand the Divine, but we can cultivate trust which may start with recognizing that we don’t. It’s important to stay present to anger and outrage until we get underneath to the sadness that is there, which can allow the transcendent to come into play and for a hallelujah to arise. It’s easy to bypass our personal wounds. We may see parts of us as enemies, but we only change by loving all of ourselves, which is not about indulgence. Personal wounds are a way into the objective wound of a broken heart. The Sage is established in universal love and loves us as we are. When we have a clear moment, we can re-affirm our intention to the Universe. When we feel lost, we can do the next right thing. Freely offering gratuitous goodness is a gesture of love. The point of living may be to experience both the human and the transcendent. Mary Angelon Young is a workshop leader with a background in Jungian psychology, an editor, and author of As It Is, Under the Punnai Tree, The Baul Tradition, Caught in the Beloved’s Petticoats, Enlightened Duality (with Lee Lozowick), The Art of Contemplation, and other books.

Relationship is meeting what arises with full feeling and consciousness. Dependent co-origination means that our consciousness arises at the same time as all consciousness. Lost in inner dialogue, we do not experience true relationship. Zazen (sitting) is an opportunity to meet what arises in the moment in a silent, unmoving state. Myosho Ginny Matthews describes practices of zazen, chanting, and samu (work) which were engaged in her sangha and with her teacher, Sasaki Roshi, who came to the U.S. from Japan and lived into his 108th year. We can learn to dissolve through work practice, but it is harder to dissolve into the complexity of work in the world. A teisho is a spontaneous commentary on a koan, which is an enigmatic question used in Rinzai Zen Buddhism to open to a state beyond the fixated self. There is the opportunity to manifest true beingness in koan practice. We can’t stay dissolved in the Absolute as a human being—we go in and out. Mystical traditions say our relations come out of the womb that birthed us all. Sweat lodge is an experience of going into the womb of the Earth. Practice is to make relationship with whatever is in our world. We’re not in relationship if we’re not present and attentive. Death is not an isolated event; it is a complement to the ongoing reborn quality of each moment. We can learn to hold opinions lightly. If we make relationship with the reality of the moment, it’s usually not as difficult as we think it will be. In grief, pain lives with us. Suffering is holding onto pain beyond its reality as it changes into something else. We can disappear in a moment of bowing. Myosho Ginny Matthews was a student of Joshu Sasaki Roshi for 40 years. She took lay ordination in 2000, leads retreats on practice, is a dance teacher and choreographer, and is featured in the book, The Unknown She: Eight Faces of an Emerging Consciousness.

Culturally, boredom has a negative connotation as something that we should not experience. Being bored is an uncomfortable place to be in, which we usually try to remedy. But this misses the point since boredom can be useful and even necessary on the path. Chogyam Trungpa notes that Westerners tend to be fascinated by the aesthetic appreciation of the simplicity or rigidity of rituals such as the Japanese tea ceremony or zazen. He says the point of vipassana meditation is to get bored. Trungpa makes a distinction between hot boredom, which is agitating and the first kind of boredom we encounter, and cool boredom, which is refreshing in that we do not have to do or expect anything. It is difficult to get to cool boredom without going through hot boredom which we look to alleviate through excitement and entertainment. Boredom shows up when there are gaps in our consciousness without stimulation or a way to satisfy ourselves. This happens in daily life as well as in meditation. Interesting times distract us from spiritual practice and paying attention to ourselves. We can encourage the space for boredom to arise rather than being caught in the current distractions of the world including constant use of cell phones. Boredom arises if thoughts and activities are not motivated by attainment or credentials. We entertain ourselves all day with subconscious chatter and are uncomfortable with silent gaps in our conversations with ourselves. We can consider that life may have no inherent meaning and that we give meaning to things in order to entertain ourselves. Remedying moods and emotions doesn’t ultimately work, which can leave us no choice but to be with things as they are. When we give up hopelessness, hope goes with it. Matthew Files facilitates groups that support people to look deeper into their process, formulate their own questions, and become responsible for their choices.

Transformation is essential for the evolution and thriving of creation, which includes human beings. The process brings greater clarity, healing, and resilience into our lives and creative growth into the world. We see cycles of birth, death, and rebirth occurring in nature and on a global and personal level. Transformation is alchemical; it involves a shake-up of our usual routine and a plunge into groundlessness. Strong medicine is provided by life itself. There is poignant bittersweet beauty in impermanence and change, in loss and death, as well as in new growth. A distinction can be made between horizontal translation, a lateral shift in which our fundamental perception of the world remains the same, and vertical transformation where there is a radical shift in it. Rebirth follows death, always. Parts of ourselves that we’ve exiled can be transformed from shadow to light and become gifts we offer to the world. The caterpillar has to die to become a butterfly, but it resists the change. Personal examples of dying to identification are described. We are all hard-wired for survival at the level of ego, but at the level of soul we long to surrender to the holy process and love more profoundly, turn toward what is, and become more fully ourselves. Liminality means dissolution and refers to the betwixt and between place between death and rebirth when the way things have been is dying but what’s waiting to be born has not yet emerged. It’s a place of receptivity which is necessary for us to pay attention to ourselves in a deeper way. When external doors close, inner doors can open. Transformative moments are spontaneous when we’re transported into a place of awe and we experience our unitive nature. Nachama Greenwald is a physical therapist, editor, and musician who for seventeen years was a member of the Shri blues band which performed Western Baul music.

Stoicism is a philosophy founded by Zeno around the fourth century BC. It was important in Greece and Rome and culminated at the time Marcus Aurelius was emperor. The primary purpose of philosophy is to reveal our shortcomings so we can overcome them. Stoicism is about living in harmony with the universe. There are four cardinal virtues that Stoics cultivate: wisdom, courage, temperance, and justice. Pithy quotes that are useful to consider are discussed. Knowing the difference between what we can and can’t control is key to figuring out what to put our attention on and how to adapt. We find strength in realizing we have power over our minds, not outside events. Viktor Frankl, a concentration camp survivor who was aligned with Stoic philosophy, said that decisions not conditions determine what a man is. We may not be able to choose the conditions that come to us in life, but we can choose how to relate to those conditions. Wealth is to desire what we have; poverty is to wish for what we don’t have. Stoics maintain that our being is contained in an inner citadel that we create with Stoic virtue. We are invincible and cannot be defeated if we maintain our character and principles. Meditations, by Marcus Aurelius, was written for himself as a diary. There is a thread of accepting reality as it is when we are self-contained. Stoicism involves not being swept away by emotions and not being in denial of them. Happiness depends on the quality of our thoughts. We can see obstacles as directing us to shift our perspective and move forward. The trials we face introduce us to our strengths. Rivers are easiest to cross at their source. Once neuropathways are established, it’s much harder to break a habit. Stoic virtues are universal and offer a way into any spiritual practice. Bandhu Dunham is the author of Creative Life and an internationally recognized glass artist and teacher.

Rick Lewis talks about the process that led him from being a performer and corporate events speaker to hosting an online writing program. Most everyone fashions a life that is obedient to our deepest fears. We carry stories about who we are and what is possible throughout life, having made unconscious decisions in childhood that we will not engage in activities that could put us in touch with feelings such as shame or rejection. The highest expression of spirituality on some paths is to serve what is wanted and needed in the moment, but we cannot do this if constrained by stories we hold as part of our identity. Our stories remain hidden before we challenge them with action. Until then, we can only serve in the small ways that show up within our comfort zones. At a hinayana (solo path) level, telling stories about times when we have been reactive or unconscious is a way to study patterns so we can map out the territory and have an edge to act differently in the future. At a mahayana (path of service) level, sharing stories is a way to learn and develop connection and compassion. Human beings are wired to think in stories. We are designed to learn from problems and the biggest and most worthwhile problem we can take on is the spiritual path, which is about how to counter the story of separation. Telling our stories can nurture relationship and connection with ourselves and others. We can self-observe when various I’s take over during storytelling. In a spiritual community, the degree of vulnerability and authenticity is set by the teacher. Most of humanity has a capacity and hunger for authenticity. The lack of acceptance of parts of ourselves that we project onto others can hold us back from being authentic. Rick Lewis is a national speaker and author of 7 Rules You Were Born to Break, The Perfection of Nothing, You Have the Right to Remain Silent, and other books.

Is the source of yearning for connection on a human level the same as longing for God on a spiritual level? The urge for connection is pre-thought, pre-psychological. It begins at birth when we first experience separateness. Practice is about patterning the nervous system to let go. When we can sit in the center of the storm of our feelings, we can be with suffering and with "what is" in a way that does not seek fulfillment. To come to acceptance doesn't always happen gracefully. To go fully into yearning—a process that happens over and over—leads to shattering, which is a doorway to reassembling without the same identification. We may yearn for love and project that we’ll be satisfied on a human level and find that we long for love on a much deeper level. Acceptance of every part of us, and of the masculine and feminine, brings us to the next level. Suffering doesn’t end when we accept suffering, but something shifts. Longing and suffering co-exist. It feels different when we are able to ride the waves of heartbreak. The ability to hold personal and universal suffering is needed in the world. Hate is projection of suffering onto others; realizing this helps us to be compassionate. Clinging is part of life and never disappears, but our work with it can be incorporated into practice. We need a strong matrix to hold longing. In each incarnation we may have one destiny to fulfill, which involves use of the body. We don’t read a book to experience the wine; we empty our cup and drink the wine. Longing is satisfied in the longing itself. Letting go of expectations opens us to a commitment to love. We can work with desire and identity, letting go again and again. To honor longing is not a casual choice. Debbie Hogeland-Celebucki is an advocate for the wisdom of community and conscious parenting and the author of Widening the Circle: Inspiration and Guidance for Community Living.

The need for humor and for incorporating something of the clown’s state of mind into spiritual practice is discussed. Bernie Glassman was a Zen master who invited Moshe Cohen, a clown performer, to help him learn tools to work with students who were taking themselves too seriously. The clown doesn’t know what will happen when he or she enters the stage. His improvisation is about encounters with everything he comes in contact with--inside and outside. The clown lives in the present and has no history, no aim to say anything universal. He shows us his weaknesses and passions and mirrors our foibles, but not so that we see who we are. He is just being himself and so expresses our humanness in a non-judgmental way, which is why we like him. The clown’s empathetic nature innocently addresses others’ ailments. He is without self-importance, a nothing who is interested in everything, who inspires optimism and faces problems without being discouraged. He moves diagonally and plays with problems until they solve themselves. By not being ashamed to be foolish, to look at different sides of himself as he is, the clown explores contradictions that we don’t see in ourselves, which is funny. Self-obsession makes us heavy when we take our minds so seriously. Humor can feed practice and lighten our spirit and the path. The true art of humor is always humor at oneself. We all have a funny part of ourselves which has often been repressed in childhood. Humor comes from creativity, not the logical mind. All we have to practice with is ourselves; our sensations are the path to intuition. We can invite lightness into our awareness by taking a breath. Michelle Meaux is one of the managers of La Ferme de Jutreau, an ashram in France. She provides translation for spiritual books, teachers, and workshops focused on personal and spiritual growth.

Beginner’s mind is a Zen Buddhist principle of seeing everything as new, as it is, without preconception or expectation. It can be considered the simplest state but also the most advanced. Mind identifies, creates the illusion of separation, and focuses on survival of the individual body and psychological structure. But we can open to “big mind,” our true nature which has limited itself, as occurs in deep sleep and sometimes in meditation. We all experience freedom from the prison of ordinary mind at times in life—as the sun peeks through the clouds—because it is our nature. Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind is a book by Suzuki Roshi, who referred to beginner’s mind as the “goal” of practice. Quotes from the book and from the American teacher Lee Lozowick are discussed. A matrix of practice is needed to hold beginner’s mind, which is not something we can bring about. We can see that everything is transient, but we often don't see that we’re always changing as well and that there is no solid self. Calmness arises as we give images in our mind a large spacious meadow, allowing them to come and go, which requires special effort. If we do not indulge our tendencies, ego will show us itself at deeper levels. Practice without gaining idea does not mean to have no purpose. Just to do something can be our purpose. If we have spiritual pride in our understanding, we will lose the characteristic of beginner’s mind, which cuts though pride in the knowledge that everything comes from big mind. Vajra pride is unshakable self-esteem rooted in recognition of our true nature, which everyone has. True creativity comes from nothing. The greatest moments of creativity come when we forget what we know. Life continues to put us in new situations where we are beginners again. VJ Fedorschak is the organizer of the Western Baul Podcast Series and the author of The Shadow on the Path and Father and Son.

The Latin phrase “magnum opus” means great work. Our early ancestors had an intuitive relationship with nature and received knowledge directly from it. In alchemy, great work refers to awakening consciousness, the primary metaphor being the transformation of lead into gold. It is about transformation, working with the primordial material we are given in incarnation, which is consciousness. But that is not separate from the body, which goes through transformation also. Tarot can lead us on a journey deeper into ourselves. Alchemical language is symbolic and is called twilight language in the eastern tradition. This talk focuses on alchemy in the western tradition, and twelve stages of alchemy are discussed as well as CG Jung’s four stages. Alchemical process is not linear or a one-time deal; it cycles as other parts of ourselves come forward. There is no top end, no settled final state. Everything dissolves, then comes back together. At the next level we’re a total beginner again. Grief is profoundly alchemical. What we are working for is already here, but we have to work to discover it. Alchemy cannot happen without the feeling heart. Any time we’re working with emptiness, the unknown, it’s scary for ego, for more superficial aspects of our being. Emptiness is a great mystery. Disappointment is the beginning of the spiritual path. There’s gold in the shadow. We can bring awareness to our process that begins to free up knots that don’t allow the free flow of graceful energy. The sage is always turning us to the sage within. So much of alchemy is about letting go. Mary Angelon Young is a workshop leader with a background in Jungian psychology, an editor and author of As It Is, Under the Punnai Tree, The Baul Tradition, Caught in the Beloved’s Petticoats, Enlightened Duality (with Lee Lozowick), The Art of Contemplation, and other books.

The aim of self-transformation from a divided mechanical self to a unified self that is free and has will is the subject of this second talk on Gurdjieff’s aphorisms. Several quotes including some which were posted in the study house where the mystic worked with students at the Prieure near Paris in the 1920s are discussed. Crystallization occurs when substances coalesce and incrementally form a durable structure or soul, as in the crystallization of rock. If anything in a man is able to resist external influences and identification with worldly matters, then this soul may be able to resist the death of the body. Nature only gives the possibility of a soul, which can only be acquired through work. One of the best means to arouse the wish to work on self is to realize that we may die at any moment, but first we must learn to keep this in mind. Super efforts should be directed by our aim. Conscience and purity of aim can guide us in the right direction. A fire in us will expire if not fed. Surrender is one path; developing will is another. All energy spent on conscious work builds spiritual capital. It is an investment that is lost forever if spent mechanically. Being, the result of unification, allows Doing, which is conscious purposeful action that differs from automatic behavior. All true Doing is alignment with the Will of God and is service to humanity and creation. If we wish, we can. Wish is the most powerful thing in the world. It is something to contemplate, sit with, internalize, and make our own. To remember is to put oneself back together. I do not remember myself; I AM, my true self, remembers. Carl Grimsman was born into the Gurdjieff Work environment. He attended a children’s group and later worked with Mrs. March, a direct student of Gurdjieff at East Hill Farm in New York. The first two books in his “Soul’s Traverse Series” are Sun Bridge and The Kindling.