I wonder if any one of you has ever noticed that life is a mystery. I wonder if you have ever felt the wholeness of life running through the innumerable varieties of expression. The infinite creativity contained in the life force is sacred, is holy. Life it seems to me is infinite creativity.
In the sacred emptiness of silence, flows the life force, the infinite creativity in the form of the human body without any resistance from any corner of that being.
When there is the ending of the momentum of the total human past, and there is a release as it were, from the prison house of the “Me” as a separate entity, then the creativity of the whole life can manifest its activation can flow through all the layers of that human form without any obstacle. The idea of “Me” and the identification with that idea of the “me”, is the greatest obstruction to the flow of creativity.
Words do not touch the essence of that mystery. It is only the sensitivity stimulated by the emptiness of silence that feels the presence of the mystery of life. You know thought is matter, and therefore thought is gross. Thought cannot feel the mystery, the sacredness. Thought is already corrupted by human motivations and that is why the human race has made futile efforts in bygone centuries to impose a direction for the movement of life, and impose purposes on the life force, impose purpose for the creativity. Why on earth should there be directions, purposes, missions, responsibilities – all these concepts, however relevant, only add to the gigantic prison-house which the thought structure is. Without that structure these concepts have no meaning.
From Flame of Life