Learning Everlasting

Lifelong learning.  It’s a great concept.  Now that I work for a library, it helps to pay the bills.  It keeps the minds of millions occupied, distracted.  As a busy lifelong learner, I can avoid the contemplation of death and the possibility of the end of me as I know me – or perhaps not just as I know me, but just the end, indeed, altogether.  Maybe all that is left is a whirling dispersion of atoms, quarks and Higgs Bosons, randomly traversing the universe and likely as not getting trapped for something close to eternity in a gas giant like Jupiter.  There is some small comfort, in that case, in the present thought of having no awareness at that time.

“Well take another look, and tell me baby:  Who’s zoomin’ who?” (Thank you, Aretha Franklin).  Who is looking through these eyes at these words? And tell me, Mr. or Mrs. Higgs, how did you think up your boson?  And why is there a race track, just for electrons, underneath a couple of countries in Europe, all for the joy of catching one of these little buggers?  And why does my spruce tree smell so good in the afternoon sun, while the aspen leaves shimmy in the breeze, the hummingbird hovers inches away at the feeder and the most beautiful swallows in the world dart with abandon through all of it?

I don’t believe for a moment that this is just a chance material world.  But then, neither do I believe in any hard and fast predestination, where we are pawns on a stage for the entertainment of some cynical cosmic audience.

The sages that dreamed the Upanishads called it prana – the life force or essence, the breath of Creator/Spirit/Mind/Source, exhaled and inhaled by all that is.  Prana given and prana withdrawn is the life experience of the material.  Prana is expressed in senses and awareness, but its presence or absence does not change it.  It just passes through creative stages, one form, one life to another.  Prana spins, organizes and reorganizes itself.  And at our level, prana wakes to the awesome joy and fear of awareness – the ability of the created to be so fully awake that it can observe itself participating in the very act of creation.  What an accomplishment and gift!  You, I, we are part of that.

We can dance, we can play, we can create.  We can care, we can tend, we can nurture.  We can also bury our talent – our prana – in fear, invest it in greed and control, or try to obliterate it in self-destructive behavior.  No matter, ultimately, I think, beyond whatever joy, sadness or learning we experience from the consequences of our behavior, individually or corporately.

I believe in learning everlasting.   Paul talks about seven heavens in the New Testament and others speak of many planes of existence.  We toy with questions of the edges of our universe.  Is it expanding?  Is it contracting?  Are there others?  What does all of that mean?

The Prashna Upanishad goes into great depth about prana, speculating that prana divides itself into five expressions when it enters bodily form.  The Sanskrit term for the fifth of these is udana, the force that gathers our prana at the end of each lifetime and moves it forward to the next.  Question III, verse 7 of the Prashna, says this of udana:

At the time of death, through the subtle track
That runs upward through the spinal channel,
Udana, the fifth force, leads the selfless
Up the long ladder of evolution,
And the selfish down.  But those who are both
Selfless and selfish come back to this earth.

Could be.  I find myself at home with this thought of learning everlasting, of an eminently patient and persistent Creator/Spirit/Mind/Source that breathes us full of prana, the very breath of life, and lets us choose, in perfect freedom, how we will use the gift, one lifetime after another.  Can we spin ourselves off to an isolation of no return?  I doubt it, despite our longest and worst efforts.  Can we stay stuck at one level, torn between isolation and connection for a very long time?  I suspect so.  Is there always a loving call home?  I believe it with all my heart and soul.

“Softy and tenderly, Jesus is calling.  Calling to you and to me.”  (Will L. Thompson, 1880) Born under the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, whispered forever to the Tree of Life, let’s go home.

Scripture today, from my friends Jan Garrett & JD Martin:

Red Rock Canyon (We Go On)

Red rock canyon loves the light, juniper pinon sunrise
And the sweet earth is still damp from last night’s rain
The smell of the sage is a simple prayer
Rising up in the morning air
Saying welcome home again
And oh, what a wonder, I cannot begin to say
Such unspeakable beauty calling my name

We go on, like a beautiful song
We are carried on great winds across the sky
We go on, we go sailing free
We come shining through, we go on

There are secrets singing in the breeze at dawn
A fresh familiar song
And everywhere I look, the world is alive
The soul of the river is one and the same
As the holy blood running through my veins
Like a father’s smile in his newborn child
So, stand still, let me look at your face
Everything keeps changing, but this love remains

We go on, like a beautiful song
We are carried on great winds across the sky
We go on, we go sailing free
We come shining through, we go on

(Lyrics and Music, Jan Garrett & JD Martin)

© Two Trees in the Garden.  All rights reserved.

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