Theos-Talk Archives (December 1996 Message tl00130)

Hey! The discussion of Russian Dolls sparked a bit of interest, as I'm
using the metaphor in an (as yet unpublished) book about unleashing
spiritual purpose. Though I hesitate to bludgeon the list by quoting my
own sweet self (how *gosh*) ... I thought I'd make an exception this time
with a short excerpt ... its from a section of the book that (attempts) to
discuss the fact that virtually everyone who has actually touched the damn
"Path" has inadvertantly been subject to periods of intense inner turmoil:

     "Much of the life in Earthworld is composed of condensations
of the one, all-pervading life, like one of those Russian dolls
that is opened to reveal a smaller replica of itself within,
which in turn is opened to find an even smaller one, and so on.
To be human is to understand that within you nature is
attempting, and partially succeeding at, the apparently
impossible: Each one of us is one of those smallest of dolls,
which when opened reveals a larger one, which is opened to find a
still larger one....  And this is the source of those periodic
episodes when we are simply engulfed in the winds of the Turmoil.
At the core of each of us rumbles the clear sensation that
something far larger, grander and more magnificent than can
possibly exist within the confines of who we are nonetheless does
exist, against all reason and despite all outward appearances.
     Even more remarkable is the realization (that all who have
germinated must face), that this internal immensity has a design
of its own *that is not subject to the standards and beliefs of
the "smaller dolls".* We can choose to allow our smaller selves
to be progressively opened, or we can choose to fight against it,
but if we choose the opening, if we choose to germinate, if we
choose to unleash the Resonant Purpose, we cannot control what we
will become, nor the worlds of activity that Purpose will thrust
us into.  In fact, we cannot even envision how to think about it,
any more that a caterpillar, whose world is composed of inching
slowly along solid objects and who never strays more than a few
yards from the place it came into being, could understand the
flight of the moth that will someday rise from its husk."
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