A Peace You've
Never Known
by Scott Sparrow
A man by the name of Theodore Gordon, who is famous among
those who know of his work, once said, "Time flies so fast
after youth is past that we cannot accomplish one half of
the many things we have in mind...The only safe and
sensible plan is to make other things give way to the
essentials, and the first of these is…"
I know that you would like for me to complete the sentence.
But what Gordon inserted at the end of the sentence is
relatively unimportant to us. It is our own words that
matter. You might complete the sentence with an ideal or a
governing principle for your life. You might identify an
acquisition or a goal––a singular achievement that would
confirm the fulfillment of your soul's purpose. But
regardless of what you choose, you must then answer the
question, "And how will I go about accomplishing it?"
It is difficult enough to identify the principal goal or
governing ideal of our lives. But the greater challenge is
in describing the method of its attainment, and then
setting about actually to do it. Indeed, we must determine
the active process that will assure us of the eventual
realization of our deepest, soulful aspirations. Or it just
may not happen.
My personal answer to the "how to" question is the same
answer that Hugh Lynn Cayce prescribed for countless people
during his life––meditation.
Hugh Lynn was often asked if we had free will. He answered
by saying that our free is limited to a single choice: to
meditate or not to meditate. He essentially challenged each
of us to consider how we can possibly be free––and become
what we are destined to be––without engaging in regular
spiritual practice. Life was, by this simple formulation, a
process of choosing to let God govern and transform our
lives through meditational practice––or clinging unfreely,
as it were, to our own agendas.
As a consequence of his lifelong commitment to the
discipline of meditation, Hugh Lynn enjoyed extraordinary
visions and dreams, including several now-famous encounters
with Jesus and experiences of the white light. He was a
modern mystic––whether measured by the extent of his
practice or by his prodigious attainment. While many of you
did not know him, he had an infectious spirit that inspired
people to meditate. It wasn't so much what he said, but his
manner of speaking that instilled an unshakeable conviction
that we could––all of us––experience what he had
experienced, if we would simply do what he did.
I had the immense good fortune of meeting Hugh Lynn when I
was only 20. As we shook hands for the first time, he
looked at me with such intensity that I could sense that he
already knew me. Many people had that experience when
meeting Hugh Lynn. Needless to say, I was "on board" from
that moment onward. My karma must have been particularly
good, because I also met Mark Thurston around the same
time, and became part of the growing ARE youth community in
the Austin, Texas area. We meditated each day together in a
Catholic Church near campus, and when I was alone in the
evenings, I would walk a few blocks from my apartment to a
Lutheran Church that was always open at night, and meditate
there. By my second year at UT, I was sharing an apartment
with Mark, and meditating an average of two hours a day.
Something in me was stirred to a greater life by my
exposure to Mark and Hugh Lynn and others who shared a
common vision of what was possible in this lifetime.
As if that wasn't enough to insure an active spiritual
life, I soon learned something from the Cayce readings that
accounts for virtually all of my writings in the field of
dreams and religious experiences. It was an
often-overlooked promise uttered by the unconscious Cayce
that opened my mind and heart to a vast array of spiritual
experiences.
So what was it? Cayce said that if a person were to
meditate for an hour every night from 2 am to 3 am, and
continue this practice for an entire 28-day lunar cycle, he
or she would "know a peace that you've never known."
Cayce's promise is not unlike the words of the poet Rumi,
who once asserted, ""What nine months does for the embryo,
40 early mornings will do for your growing awareness."
Indeed, Cayce was alluding to an ancient tradition of
treating the wee hours of morning as a fertile ground for
meditation and other contemplative activity.
While it is probably true that most people would rather
sleep than invest in the indeterminate fruits of a month of
interrupted slumber, Mark and I were young and eager. So we
promptly began middle-of-the-night meditation (MNM) shortly
after moving in together. As I slowly became aware of the
promised "peace I'd never known," my attention was also
drawn to a dramatic development in my dream life.
It would take far too long to share with you what happened
to me as result of MNM, but it included out-of-body
experiences, lucid dreams, and perhaps the most precious
experiences of all––communion with the white light and the
presence of the Master. Given the sheer struggle of getting
out of bed in the middle of the night––when the body
screams to be left alone and the undisciplined mind nods in
weary assent––I was fortunate to have had such immediate
and resounding confirmation for my efforts.
Very little has been written about the salubrious effects
of MNM on the waking life. Cayce's "peace" has never, to my
knowledge, been tracked and measured over time by anyone
interested in verifying his claim. Much less has been
written about the remarkable impact of MNM on the dreams
that occur upon returning to sleep. In 1976, however, I
suggested in Lucid
Dreaming: Dawning of the Clear Light
that MNM was an
excellent way to induce lucid dreaming and other
exceptional dreams without necessarily intending to do so.
Following Hugh Lynn's example, I had always tried to put my
devotional life above any phenomenal consequence of my
practice, but the dramatic impact of MNM on my dream life
begged to be acknowledged at a time when various
researchers were developing methods that had as their sole
aim the induction of lucid dreaming without honoring the
spiritual dimensions of the quest.
What exactly happens when we juxtapose meditation with the
dream state? We don't fully know, but there are some
indications from meditation research that offers some
clues. First of all, meditation is known to effect a
quieting of the "old brain," or limbic system while
activating at the same time the witnessing center of the
forebrain, called the reticular activating system. To put
it in the language of the Cayce readings, meditation allows
us do a better job of "standing aside and watching self
pass by." As we carry this constructive disengagement of
the witnessing mind into sleep, the dreamer then enjoys
greater reflectivity and resilience in response to the
unfolding dream drama, which is driven in large part by the
older structures of the brain.
It is possible that the juxtaposition of meditation and
dreaming allows two somewhat distinct paths to wholeness to
intersect. In the Tibetan Buddhist tradition, meditation
or mahamudra
is
referred to as the "path without form," and is considered a
safer, but slower, approach than six related forms of
tantric yoga that activate and raise the kundalini.
Referred to as the "path with form," the six yogas––one of
which is represented by the practice of lucid
dreaming––offer an accelerated path to enlightenment.
However, the tantric approach is more precarious since the
practices are designed to unleash the powerful––and thus
potentially destabilizing––formative energies of the
ordinarily dormant kundalini force.
Cayce recognized both the potential and the hazards in
awakening the kundalini, and emphasized the importance of
"knowing who and what one serves"––of having a clear ideal
in place––before activating the kundalini. The Tibetan
texts concur with Cayce when they say that it is important
for a person on the accelerated path to have a a guru guide
and oversee the process. Of course, any authentic path to
wholeness is hazardous to the ego, and may temporarily
destabilize the status quo. Commenting on the process of
individuation, Jung once said, "the way is not without
danger," and "every development in consciousness is
experienced as a curse." In a similar vein, Herbert Puryear
has said, "The only thing more dangerous than meditating is
not meditating."
Last night, I awoke around 4:30, and quietly slipped into
my robe. Stepping gingerly over three sleeping dogs, I
headed to my office where, as always, I lit a candle and
sipped some juice in order to awaken more fully before
attempting to meditate. Frankly, nighttime mediation is
never easy, and the older I get, the more effort it takes
to "show up" for my practice. But after adjusting a pillow
to cushion my aching lower back, I managed to go into
meditation. It was, by no means, an especially "good"
meditation, but I felt a little of what I experienced as a
younger man––a sense of expectancy and optimism as the
world around me slept. About 30 minutes later, I headed
back to bed and fell asleep.
The dream that followed was extraordinary. I don't remember
much about the first part, except that I seemed to be
heading for a place to go fishing with my wife Kathy. We
were walking across a field, and I looked up and saw two
full moons about 45% above the horizon, side by side.
Knowing that this was impossible, I decided that I had to
be dreaming. So I promptly sat on the ground and began
meditating on the two moons, knowing that what I was seeing
was really the holy light. The two orbs slowly became a
single brilliant orb of white light. I laid down on my
back, and gazed upward at the radiant disc that was now
directly overhead. The light became more intense, and the
center of the orb became a latticework of quickly shifting,
subtle forms. As I contemplated the light, the kundalini
awakened and began to fill my body. I surrendered to it,
and prayed for Jesus' presence. I saw no one, but felt
embraced by the energy. It slowly subsided, and the dream
continued as a non-lucid, ordinary dream.
I share this dream only to let you know what is possible
for you. If you doubt my assertion, you might want to read
Malcolm Gladwell's latest bestseller, Outliers,
in
which he makes the compelling case that we mistakenly think
that successful people are more innately endowed than other
people. Again and again, from Mozart to Nobel laureates,
Gladwell has found that the distinguishing characteristic
of those who achieve anything remarkable––beyond having
"enough" of whatever it takes, which is far less than what
we believe––is the sheer amount of time they spend
practicing.
But then again, maybe you are one of those individuals who
are poised to experience the more immediate impact of MNM.
Hugh Lynn often said that when we meditate, we are like a
person in a dark room holding an electric plug searching
from the wall socket. We never know, he said, how close we
may be to experiencing the light. So you may be much closer
than you think! Indeed, just yesterday, I received an email
from an ARE member who had completed only her second night
of a 28-day regimen of nighttime meditation. This is the
dream that she had:
I'm in a
grotto made in a cave; I immediately realize that I am
dreaming and lucid. The inside walls of the cave have
been painted white. J. and two children with golden
hair (as in the precious metal) are with me. The
children are a little boy and a younger girl with about the
same age span as my grandchildren, but a bit older.
The children are playing with small old fashion model toys
with a Christmas theme. I kneel on the floor of the
cave and begin praying. After each small prayer, I
see either a whispy, fluttering small white dove or a flame
flash on the cave wall. J. tells me "its time" and
hands me what I know is a zen meditation chime ... but it's
very unique ... it's actually a stack of meditation chimes
of progressively smaller sizes stacked up to form what
looks like a Christmas tree shape. The little boy
with the golden hair strikes the chime and I immediately
feel a powerful wave of energy sweep over me. I
think, "Oh, Lord! Here it comes!", and am swept into a
supine position. I feel my body become a wave of
energy and I feel a mild sort of ecstasy beginning. I
can feel myself resisting and I begin to wake up. As
I move through a hypnopompic state, I hear a voice say,
"Have you ever wondered where confidence comes from?"
Then I am fully awake in bed and can still feel that my
body is flowing with energy.
Whether you are
poised to have such transformative experiences, or "just"
to experience a peace that you have never known, you will
probably have to apply yourself for a period of time before
your practice bears such fruit. And yet there is every
indication that the outcome is assured if you will simply
keep doing what it takes.
You may still be wondering how Theodore Gordon finished his
sentence. You may also wonder what he's famous for. Of all
things, Gordon's singular aim was to understand how to
catch trout on a fly rod. He was a sickly man who had to
retire from his law practice for health reasons, but his
daily observation of stream life on the Neversink River in
upstate New York, and his radical innovations in fly
design, resulted in a series of breakthroughs in fly
fishing. Today, he is hailed as the father of modern fly
fishing––not because he was a genius but because he showed
up day after day after day and, in time, became a master of
his art. We can,
too.
And yet, I know how hard it is for people to embark on a
journey so ambitious and so lonely as middle-of-the-night
meditation. When we began our practice 38 years ago, Mark
and I were fortunate to have each other and a community of
supportive friends, and even today I know that he is also
meditating in the wee hours of the night, even though we
are 2000 miles apart. Since we know that a supportive
community can make the difference between the inauguration
of a lifelong practice and just another abandoned effort,
Mark and I have decided to launch an E-Group that will
endeavor to assist its participants in developing their own
MNM practice. As academic researchers, we will also collect
data during the E-Group's month-long activities in hopes
that we may arrive at a better understanding of the impact
of MNM on a person's overall sense of well being, as well
as to assess the measurable impact of MNM on their dreams.
In addition to creating a supportive environment for the
participants, we will also be teaching them to record and
to analyze their dreams in such a way that they can learn
to better discern the influence of MNM on their dreams. For
more information about the upcoming E-Group,
contact me.
