Spiritual Enlightenment: The Damnedest Thing (The Enlightenment Trilogy Book 1)

(Q: “Why am I always so dissatisfied? Why can’t I ever just be content?” A: “You weren’t born to be content. Your discontent is the engine that drives you, be grateful to it.”

I’m reminded of an amusing parable wherein a young student approaches the local guru and declares scornfully that he has thought about it and has decided that he is an atheist. The student is surprised that, rather than being shocked or angry, the teacher seems pleased. “What are you happy about?” demands the perplexed student. “I have just told yo

Julie seems to have that ability to relax into the moment and let the universe do the driving. If there was a secret to happiness in life, I’d say that was it.

You can’t do that while it’s still in your head. Writing it out allows you to act as your own teacher, your own critic, your own opponent. By externalizing your thoughts, you can become your own guru; judging yourself, giving feedback, providing a more objective and elevated perspective.”

The perception of wrongness, however, is absolutely critical to the perpetuation of the human drama, right up there with the illusion of separateness and the certainty of free will. Drama requires conflict; no conflict, no drama. If something isn’t wrong, then nothing needs to be made right, which would mean that nothing needs to be done.

Enough! I’m tired of thinking about it. Words are a lousy means of communication, brains are no place for serious thinking, and indescribable experiences are silly things to try to describe.

Placid and Self-Contained I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contained. I stand and look at them long and long. They do not sweat and whine about their condition. They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, Not one is dissatisfied, not one is

The Harmony of the Spheres This journey then, is nothing more, yet nothing less than a period of acclimating to a new way of seeing, a time of transition and revelation as it gradually comes upon “that” which remains when there is no self. This is not a journey for those who expect love and bliss, rather, it is for the hardy who have been tried by

“You’re looking for an exact map and these great texts are thick bundles of pages covered in scribble. Yes, some of the lines in all that scribble are actually somewhat accurate, as far as they may go, but you’re not going to have any way of knowing which ones are right until you’ve made the journey yourself, by which time, of course, you’ll no lon

I was dreaming that I was a butterfly fluttering happily. Suddenly, I awoke— Now, I wonder who I am— A man who dreamed he was a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming it is a man. Chuang Tzu