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THE ART OF LETTING THINGS HAPPEN
In the ancient cultures which history records, spirit was identified with all subtle and volatile things: the wind that eludes the grasp, the scent of flowers, and above all the breath, which, as it fails, reveals the coming of mysterious death. In later ages, when men who had pondered deeply upon this great mystery of death sought not only to welcome it, but, with determined will, to gain entrance even while alive to the realm of the beyond, spirit became a transcendent essence. These men taught that only through detachment from desire could the spirit be known. Therefore all definitions of the spirit had to be negative. It was not this, not that. It was neither this condition, nor its opposite; neither good nor evil, neither light nor darkness. No one indeed could define the spirit, except by enumerating endlessly the limited things it was not. Even for the Christian mystic, God is not truly magnificence and all-encompassing glory; for the mystic has felt His presence within the "secret chamber" of the heart, where there is silence and nothing; and he speaks in faltering tones of God's "infinite poverty".
Today, however, a new Age of human development is dawning. In the far reaches of the consciousness, where mind and heart, action and contemplation, body and soul find themselves synthesized in a constant harmony of polar opposites, a new understanding of the spirit seeks adequate formulation. It may not find this formulation for centuries; and again, it is perhaps just now being precipitated into words and tones, into forms and deeds, somewhere where the need is greatest, the loss of all security most irretrievable. What is, then, this new understanding of the spirit?
Spirit as relatedness - this might give a suggestion for a new definition of the spirit. Spirit as the light shining between all opposites that have come to face each other in understanding and in peace: that too may give a clue to the new revelation of the nature of the spirit. The Free Masons use in their essential symbolism two columns, Jachim and Boaz, each of which represents a polarity of being. Everywhere these two symbolic columns can be envisioned by the discerning mind, for everywhere there is duality "and polarity. To the ancient thinker, spirit may have appeared as the winds that blows between these columns. To the transcendental mystic and idealist, spirit is the unfathomable mystery within the temple whose entrance is guarded by two columns. And today could we not say that spirit is the light of fulfillment radiating from the man who stands between these columns, accepting and unafraid, on his way toward ever more light and ever more inclusive fullness of being?
The zodiacal symbol of Gemini, is a conventionalized representation of two columns, linked above by the roof and, below, by the floor of the temple of which they mark the threshold. Gemini is the Gate which leads to the temple of human fulfillment. Through the Gate the wind of destiny blows. Beyond the Gate, the Holy of Holies is wrapped in mystery and glamour mixed with fear. At the Gate, the disciple pauses, facing the innermost in understanding and expectation; there also the priest stands, facing the outer world, blessing the multitudes.
At the Gate . . . This is the place to pause, to accept, and to know the peace which alone can insure to the seeker for spiritual reality success in his search. It is the place where confrontations have to be met; where, between the two towering columns which close in menacingly, the dreaded "Guardian of the Threshold" must be accepted and overcome - our entire past concentrated in an experience of intense awareness, often bleak with despair and frightening in its horror. At the Gate, the youthful and unprepared soul, filled with excitement and eager curiosity, may wish to rush headlong into the mystery. Little does he care to wonder at the majestic columns. Blind to the haunting presence, he would force his way into the sanctuary. What would he find there? Nothing, save the avenging fury of his frustrations and his fears, save the aroused image of his darkest failures - and he would reel back, stunned and blinded.
At the Gate . . . It is there, that the greatest need of the Gemini type of person is to be experienced. This type is filled with a vivid eagerness and curiosity for sensation and knowledge. Gemini, like the college youth which is its typical representation, feels that all experiences are his for the asking; that there is nothing not to be known, no secret door the lock of which cannot be forced. With candid ardor he seeks to link all acts, to classify all data, to catalogue the gods and stars of the entire universe, to engineer adventures to heaven and hell.
One thing he needs to learn: the art of letting things happen. He must learn to pause and to wait. He must learn to understand first, to act afterward. At the Gate of all experiences he has to stop and listen; and to bow as he meets the two great columns of life, for they are to teach him that all nature obeys laws which cannot be broken, and is structured by cycles whose rhythms compel all things. Action and reaction are found in all things and all conditions. The beat of life is measured by tides of destiny which control the unfoldment of events. It is true that every goal and event clearly envisioned and persistently sustained comes to maturity. Nevertheless, he who strives after the goal must learn to let the goal happen to him - not in passive expectation and careless wishing, but in the silence and the pause which is peace. Peace compels all mysteries to reveal themselves. Bodies may be violated, but souls only open to him who can wait, in power and in strength. Eagerness is not enough; power out of understanding is necessary. What draws to itself all things? A vacuum contained within a strong vessel which no pressure can shatter.
There is an inner emptiness of mind which will draw to itself all knowledge. It is difficult for the typical Gemini person to see that such a statement can make sense. But to learn that it does make sense is perhaps Gemini's greatest need. "The art of letting things happen" is the greatest gift of the spirit to his eager curiosity and his passion for getting at knowledge and things in general. It is the gift from that which is totality of being to the person who overvalues his tense strivings to be "conscious" at all cost - merely to be conscious.
One can stress too much the value and importance of conscious representations. One can stress the will to intellectual clarity and mental formulations to such a degree that all except the relatively few facts able to fit in the conscious structures of the mind are left unnoticed. One can strain one's power of perception and classification so much that there develops what Carl Jung called graphically and most accurately a "cramp in the conscious". Unless this cramp is resolved, unless man lets life pour again within the relaxed structures of the mind, the seeker after reality will never find the spirit, however much he may think he knows. For the spirit is the constant and total relatedness between all objects, all persons and all events. Spirit, in terms of modern physics, is the entire patterning of the ' 'world-lines' ' which constitute the essence of space, and the intersections of which we perceive as things and events.
To seek the spirit in true understanding is to gather in one's field of vision these world-lines as they weave their intricate cyclic patterns before the observer. It is to stand at the threshold of all experiences in intense awareness and positive openness of the mind, unhurried, serene, without strain or desire to fit the interweaving patterns of events into set formulas. It is to avoid cramping one's mind in such a manner that the unfamiliar or unwelcome event finds no admittance to the consciousness, and the feeling too overwhelming to be expressed is forced back into the tightened heart. It is to learn the difficult art of being positive and controlled, while letting things happen according to their own natural rhythm. It is to go forth with assurance and eager determination, yet force no issue until the proper rhythm operates between the two great columns at the Gate, and the shrine is revealed beyond the majestic figure of the welcoming hierophant of the Mysteries.
The columns, the floor and the roof of the temple form a mystic rectangle. Within this rectangle the candidate stands, erect, drawing to the center of his being - where the diagonals of the figure intersect - the power which emanates from the directions of space: north-east, south-west, south-east, north-west. Before him, the Initiator is revealed, who bids him enter . . .
This is, in the form of symbols, the pattern of all true experiences, as the seeker for spiritual understanding comes to meet them. Impatience and the eager rush of desire will only disturb the sacred performance. Wisdom is not to be rushed into: it is to be received from the wholeness of life by the wholeness of one's nature. Wisdom which is of the spirit is a gift. It is a gift because it comes to the recipient as a completed whole. He does not piece it together, part by part, hurriedly putting forth a scaffold and throwing into it every bit of available material. Wisdom is a gift. One must not force the giving of gifts.
This truth is for Gemini to learn; and it, too, must be received as a gift. The heart will understand its meaning only if not rushed into acceptance of its seeming obviousness. All seeds mature slowly; wisdom and integration are of the nature of seeds. One must grow into them, effortlessly, serenely, in faith and in beauty.
