God walks with me. As me. In me. Home to me. Home to God. One.
Well, maybe?
The French Benedictine monk, Henri Le Saux, one of the great Christian explorers of Indian spirituality and of interfaith dialogue, moved to India and took up the name Swami Abhishiktananda. He became a wandering sadhu and settled among the caves of Arunachala.
Swami successfully straddled Christianity and the Vedas gleaned from his travels, devotion, and direct experience. I deem that heroic.
What I love most about him is that he doubted. An incredibly devoted monk, and a sadhu who walked miles with a dandi stick and a leather satchel to meet with Christians and Hindu Saints alike. Open hearted and vulnerable, his doubts bubbled up.
I know that Grace abides in me and guides me. I am sure of that even if I sometimes doubt. But where Grace ends and God begins, it seems that this Infinite point is a deeper and more profound entrance to this “being with” and “as God”. I am wondering if the God that walks with me will become crystalized the more space and timelessness I allow myself.
So, spaciousness becomes the important, nay I say, an imperative ingredient to opening the door. Quiet, deep, openness that I am incapable of self-initiating, but nonetheless is the ground for when God knocks. Divinity shows up when it shows up.
But the prerequisite, I am wondering, is unlimited inner space and timelessness. Allowing both to build individually and come together to create a higher octave of allowance. God blooms there. God takes your hand and walks with you and as you, and the Universe comes along for the ride.
I hope?
Letters to the Universe 