Being 21, I was captivated by the rather unique input received through this professor. Something about witnessing a middle-aged German man pronounce Quranic Arabic and explaining it philosophically enchanted me; it made those three hours every Monday/Wednesday quite different. Unlike the cherry-picked religion we were taught in school, which we often had to memorise almost blindly, my thinking here was challenged. This left me curious to know more.
Around the same time, I was introduced to the basic notion of Sufism — the mystical, ascetic branch of Islam. Sufism is often considered to be a sect of Islam. It may be otherwise described as an aspect or dimension of the religion. Sufi orders (Tariqas) can be found in Sunni as well as to a lesser extent in Shia, among other Islamic groups and traditions. The word tarika / tarik originally means way or path in Arabic, which holds metaphorical meaning in Sufism.
According to Ibn Khaldun, the 14th century Arab historian, Sufism is:
Dedication to worship, total dedication to Allah most High, disregard for the finery and ornament of the world, abstinence from the pleasure, wealth, and prestige sought by most men, and retiring from others to worship alone.
With the growing interest in psychology and philosophy, esotericism led me to delve more into the depth and to read more. This was a time when I began pondering the inner reaches of the human mind; how far and deep one can venture to explore what God may really be — whether as an entity outside of us or as concept — and understand their inner selves along with it. What is death or what happens after we die was another existential query.
My developing mind was seeking to widen its horizon, to investigate different modes of consciousness. So when a friend once mentioned a Sufi Zikr (Dhikr) in a nearby city outside Cairo, I didn’t hesitate to go with him and his driver who was from there and knew the way. A Zikr is a ceremony-like remembrance circle where attendees repeat short phrases or prayers like mantras, reciting them silently or aloud.
As planned, we reached our destination at around 7 pm and entered a ‘zawya’ — a room usually used for prayer. There was a group of men sitting on the floor, many had water pipes in front of them. This was not the usual ‘shisha,’ but the ‘goza’.
Rounds and rounds of water bongs fixed with small pieces of hashish would circle the room as the blue smoke filled the air. In the corners of the zawya, a few men were playing hand drums while most attendees were already in some state of trance. I recall there was one older lady sitting on a chair, also smoking up.
After maybe 30 minutes of this preparation, the lights were dimmed, the bongs removed, and the chanting began. Standing up and moving from side to side, the room echoed with either Allah, or Allah Hay — which translates into God is Alive. The Zikr lasted about 45 minutes before we said goodbye and went back to Cairo.
Even though hippie-minded me enjoyed the unusual experience and the different set and setting of the high, I knew this wasn’t the Sufism I was interested to examine. After all, all I did during the previous years was using substances to get there, so one could say I needed some novelty.
For as long as I can remember I have always been full of questions. Constantly fascinated by that which is different and ambiguous in life as well as in the universe in its entirety: The odd and the mysterious, the peculiar and the eccentric, the occult and the forbidden, the unexplainable and the paradoxical, the paranormal, supernatural, and metaphysical. These anomalies often defy explanation and seem to violate the agreed-upon laws of physics, even transcend logic and rationality. The thirst for such subjects has always been there, complemented by a certain Orphic desire to dig deeper in order to extend my knowledge beyond the usual and ordinary.
One of my earliest sincere reading into said realm of forbidden knowledge was a collection of books titled the Supernatural Series by Danbury Press (1975). In general, I tend to do my best to take in the unknown with wonder and curiosity rather than based on preconceived beliefs; to keep an open mind. Later, however, a healthy dose of doubt, scepticism, and critical thinking had to be added to the equation. Simply because there are as much unfalsifiable claims floating around as there are outlandish superstitions and New-Age-type of woo-woo.
Whether it was telepathy, spirits and UFOs, alchemy and magic, or any arcane knowledge for that matter, all Psi phenomena of mind over matter found in the series fascinated me like no other. Why? Because, these fairly outrageous and controversial occult subjects are considered somewhat secret and unknown, making them more attractive to one’s eyes.
Another substantial reason for the attraction is that, whether we believe in it or not, the mystery shrouding such otherworldly stuff entertains the imagination and enhances creativity like nothing else. The exposure therefore changes the way we perceive what we tend to call ‘reality’. One can indeed entertain ideas and contemplate information without having to fully accept or believe them.
Then came one remarkable event by New Year’s Eve of 1999-2000, which happened to be during the month of Ramadan. Many were celebrating the once-in-a-lifetime Millennium at the Jean Michel Jarre concert by the Pyramids, my parents and sister included. Others spent it at house parties. My few friends and I, though, had quite the different plans.
By 10 p.m, I left the buddies at my room at the Cairo Sheraton to go to the historic Al-Sayeda Zainab Mosque in Old Cairo. While two of them were tripping on LSD and one on mushrooms, I was to spend midnight in seclusion, meditating and reading the Qur’an. Fully sober. Yep.
For those who may not know, Zainab is the grand daughter of prophet Muhammad who is known to have been buried at the spot where the mosque was later built some hundreds of years of ago. Al Sayeda, meaning lady, is a honorific title.
I was the only one inside the ancient mosque except a man who works there. Finally by 1:00 am I went back to join my tripping buddies. I’m not sure what was exactly going through my head at the time, but it seems I was looking for deeper spiritual truths. As mentioned, the young psychonaut in me had been experimenting with altered states of consciousness, he was thereby seeking existential answers to all the queries [and contradictions] elsewhere.
Another major life event is that I was about to graduate in less than a month, so facing adulthood and the unknown was coupled with many question marks about my coming life and future. And what occasion signifies a new era more than the Millennium Eve.
Following reading — and studying — the Qur’an about 15 times throughout the years, the Bible, and parts of the Torah, my curiosity towards the intellectual tradition of Sufism further led me to the writings of Rumi, Omar Khayyám, and Al-Ghazali (Algazel) among other Sufi literature. Many of which have greatly influenced Western philosophers, writers, and theologians alike.
I had equally started reading about Buddhism. The first introductory book for some reason was Chogyam Trungpa’s The Myth of Freedom.
Another noteworthy milestone is finding out about Salman Rushdie’s book The Satanic Verses. The title itself is already provocative and captivating. The fact that the book was banned in oh-so-many countries, that it led to many bombing and assassinations was inconceivable. All this for a book?! Waow. I MUST read this book. I did acquire it from London and it was indeed an enjoyable poetic read.
The Satanic Verses Controversy, also known as The Rushdie Affair, showed me the pen may very well be mightier than the sword — beyond the mere expression. How powerful mere words and thoughts can be and their magnanimous effect on hearts and minds as well as on cultures and civilisations.
It was also a sobering reminder of how fanatics and religious fundamentalism function in the modern world, incorporating matters like control, censorship, politics, but also on beliefs and ideologies.
 |
| Al-Sayeda Zainab Mosque captured in 1884-1885 |
During this same soul searching period I became interested in mysticism and spiritually, still looking to explore what it is to be a human being. I wanted to know for myself, rather than merely and unquestionably believe. I joined a centre in a Zamalek flat, Time Out For The Soul, to learn Tai Chi and to group meditate. I was one of the youngest members and thoroughly enjoyed what those few weekly hours of peace and quietude did to me; a sort of mini holiday from that mundane city life.
Unlike the growing “healing industry” found today, these type of centres and gatherings were almost unheard of in Egypt then — true pioneers. Never was there any more than six or eight people at a time. By then I had already started working, mostly in shifts, so this weekly cleansing activity was always something to look forward to with great anticipation.
A couple of years have passed before the owner of the centre, Randa, moved to the U.S. So naturally, my indulging was fully re-focused on drugs. I have been experimenting with all sorts of substances, but then when I got hooked on a drug of choice, that was when things drastically changed. Addiction turned out to be a whole different cauchemardesque experience. The resulting suffering remains highly educational nevertheless and, paradoxically, also empowering. Nothing like it teaches you more about yourself; travel and psychedelics may follow.
To my good fortune, I was yet again to encounter Sufism. This round on a deeper and perhaps more sincere and traditional level.
The first time I went to a truer Zikr was with my older cousin who had been before. This time there was no hashish smoking, but it was more of a serene and meditative experience. We went in, prayed, dimmed the light, and had the Zikr, which consisted of much more chanting and prayers than the sole “Allah / Allah Hay”.
Afterwards, we sat on the floor to share a simple meal. Then we listened to some reading — in English — by Stelzer who is otherwise known by his first Muslim name [Sheikh] Abdul Jalil and who is ranked number two in the hierarchy of this specific tariqa sect in Egypt, the Naqshabandi Sunni Sufi order. Today, it is said that around 72 different Sufi orders exist, with the Naqshabandi being one of the major and more international four.
The attendees of the Zikr were made up of an eclectic variety of multicultural men. Many looked like they come from different backgrounds and nationalities. Few non-Egyptian teachers from the American University in Cairo where the ones who led the Zikr, starting with Abdul Hay Holdijk, Abdul Jalil, as well as Osman Andrew Young — my English 112 teacher in 1996 who became a close friend ever since.
They were also few other expats, some students, and some older men from all over. Every now and then there would be a visiting murid from a different country. Once again here, being in my mid-late 20s I was usually one of the youngest if not the youngest.
Despite the mix, our fraternal union during those few hours every Thursday night transcended any seeming differences. We were there for one thing only: Sharing an enriching, soul-cleansing experience. The closest I could relate to at the time, as a point of reference, was taking ecstasy at a rave or festival. Only that the intoxication was not chemically induced, and natural highs don’t have lows.
On certain occasions — mainly on Islamic holidays — females joined the gatherings and they would sit on the outer side of the circle.
The group receives a weekly e-mail with the time and location, in which we’re all addressed as “Dear Muhebeen” — meaning lovers. This is a metaphor Sufis use to describe the state in which Zikr in particular, and being a Sufi in general leaves them.
Amid the battle with drug addiction in my final years in Egypt, these evenings became the sole light I was still holding on to, which seemed like my only outlet, so I tried not to miss. Gatherings were held at different people’s homes as each week someone would volunteer to have the Brothers over. We always listened to some reading afterwards and we always shared a meal.
Time has passed before relocating to Canada in my early 30s then to the U.S — for a full decade. Quite a lot has changed since then, as it ought to. There, I got clean from the years-long toxic lifestyle, went back to exercising, eating well, communing with nature, and leading a conscious creative existence in general. In other words, I was back to loving myself.
It also a time of questioning everything, including myself. The clarity and freshness motivated me to put all views, beliefs, biases, privileges that we tend to take for granted to the test. Leaving the comfort zone with all the “known” was a catalyst for unlearning and deconditioning from all that which does not serve the evolution of my being, which basically means growth.
I actually recall reaching out to Professor Stelzer for a letter of recommendation for University of Toronto, which he kindly sent.
Despite the fact that my early philosophy has been fairly inspired by Sufism, [Zen] Buddhism, and later Taoism among other schools of thought, as I matured throughout life I found that there is a fundamental difference between scripturalism and experimentalism — in terms of depth of knowledge as well as in terms of Truth; between imitating older paradigms and creating newer ones; following others’ paths and daring to explore uncharted territories while forging our own trails. Losing oneself in the collective identity of the crowd ― the herd ― or standing out.
Experience, you see, cannot be studied or bought, and that’s why it is the mother of all wisdom. It is also why knowing remains different than mere believing.
Following all the years of reading and studying, the soul search eventually led me to myself. For it was my truth that needed to be discovered and not anyone else’s. I then felt compelled to learn through direct experience rather than, like many, build my entire reality on the personal beliefs, metaphorical fables, opinions, foundations of others, which have been absorbed since childhood.
The truth is, the majority of people pass through life without coming to know their true selves. Without removing the veil of illusion and awakening to the conscious experience, they tend to compensate by following the experiences of others. While we can learn from the wise as well as from the fool, making a habit to always look outside oneself for answers, directions, wholeness, spiritual significance does lead to anywhere worth going, certainly not to self-actualisation.
Having your hand held at all times also impairs growth, as much as it threatens freedom, independence, autonomy, and critical thinking. The need is a disempowering crutch that does not serve the evolution of our consciousness nor the development of mere resilience.
But I absolutely had to go through it all to reach where I am today. And for that I remain truly and wholeheartedly grateful.
After the extended period of searching, seeking, questioning I found my inner light — true being — and, apparently, it has been within me all along. You see, when we go through our own hell and survive it, when we evolve to a certain frequency and fully know ourselves, there seems to be no need to follow, belong to, associate with any isms or schisms. You are finally enough. For the Kingdom of Heaven is nowhere but within you.
As recounted in Who Are We?, Why We Should Not Fear Death, The Ashram Sweeper Who Blocked Me on Facebook, OLS Reflections 42 — The Spiritual Edition, then more personally in My Journey Towards Self-Transcendence, you come to the realisation that using labels, be it spiritual or otherwise, to try to fit in by separating oneself from others goes against the Human Condition. It is the ‘Us’ and ‘Them’ tribal and hostile ideology, aggressive even.
Another realisation is that it is not our beliefs that matter in the end, but our love, empathy, and compassion; how we treat others. One can indeed be a decent human being just by being themself. Because down deep inside, at the very core, we are all One — unlabelled.
A different piece to follow in later years is The Parable of the Nugget of Truth, which remains in a category by itself in terms of storytelling and topic.
Verily, if one is still waiting for some leader, guru, middleman, partner, or even certain institutions, strategies, methods, rituals, rules, books to offer them spiritual significance and to make them feel whole and safe and protected, they have not yet discovered the Tao to their full potential. For as educational as they could be, those means, like lighthouse beams, are mere tools which could only point to the entrance of the cave, but one must enter by themselves; so that they may own their truth, leading them to actual liberation and self-actualisation.
Unlike the growing “healing industry” found today, these type of centres and gatherings were almost unheard of in Egypt then — true pioneers. Never was there any more than six or eight people at a time. By then I had already started working, mostly in shifts, so this weekly cleansing activity was always something to look forward to with great anticipation.
A couple of years have passed before the owner of the centre, Randa, moved to the U.S. So naturally, my indulging was fully re-focused on drugs. I have been experimenting with all sorts of substances, but then when I got hooked on a drug of choice, that was when things drastically changed. Addiction turned out to be a whole different cauchemardesque experience. The resulting suffering remains highly educational nevertheless and, paradoxically, also empowering. Nothing like it teaches you more about yourself; travel and psychedelics may follow.
To my good fortune, I was yet again to encounter Sufism. This round on a deeper and perhaps more sincere and traditional level.
The first time I went to a truer Zikr was with my older cousin who had been before. This time there was no hashish smoking, but it was more of a serene and meditative experience. We went in, prayed, dimmed the light, and had the Zikr, which consisted of much more chanting and prayers than the sole “Allah / Allah Hay”.
Afterwards, we sat on the floor to share a simple meal. Then we listened to some reading — in English — by Stelzer who is otherwise known by his first Muslim name [Sheikh] Abdul Jalil and who is ranked number two in the hierarchy of this specific tariqa sect in Egypt, the Naqshabandi Sunni Sufi order. Today, it is said that around 72 different Sufi orders exist, with the Naqshabandi being one of the major and more international four.
The attendees of the Zikr were made up of an eclectic variety of multicultural men. Many looked like they come from different backgrounds and nationalities. Few non-Egyptian teachers from the American University in Cairo where the ones who led the Zikr, starting with Abdul Hay Holdijk, Abdul Jalil, as well as Osman Andrew Young — my English 112 teacher in 1996 who became a close friend ever since.
They were also few other expats, some students, and some older men from all over. Every now and then there would be a visiting murid from a different country. Once again here, being in my mid-late 20s I was usually one of the youngest if not the youngest.
Despite the mix, our fraternal union during those few hours every Thursday night transcended any seeming differences. We were there for one thing only: Sharing an enriching, soul-cleansing experience. The closest I could relate to at the time, as a point of reference, was taking ecstasy at a rave or festival. Only that the intoxication was not chemically induced, and natural highs don’t have lows.
On certain occasions — mainly on Islamic holidays — females joined the gatherings and they would sit on the outer side of the circle.
The group receives a weekly e-mail with the time and location, in which we’re all addressed as “Dear Muhebeen” — meaning lovers. This is a metaphor Sufis use to describe the state in which Zikr in particular, and being a Sufi in general leaves them.
Amid the battle with drug addiction in my final years in Egypt, these evenings became the sole light I was still holding on to, which seemed like my only outlet, so I tried not to miss. Gatherings were held at different people’s homes as each week someone would volunteer to have the Brothers over. We always listened to some reading afterwards and we always shared a meal.
Time has passed before relocating to Canada in my early 30s then to the U.S — for a full decade. Quite a lot has changed since then, as it ought to. There, I got clean from the years-long toxic lifestyle, went back to exercising, eating well, communing with nature, and leading a conscious creative existence in general. In other words, I was back to loving myself.
It also a time of questioning everything, including myself. The clarity and freshness motivated me to put all views, beliefs, biases, privileges that we tend to take for granted to the test. Leaving the comfort zone with all the “known” was a catalyst for unlearning and deconditioning from all that which does not serve the evolution of my being, which basically means growth.
I actually recall reaching out to Professor Stelzer for a letter of recommendation for University of Toronto, which he kindly sent.
Despite the fact that my early philosophy has been fairly inspired by Sufism, [Zen] Buddhism, and later Taoism among other schools of thought, as I matured throughout life I found that there is a fundamental difference between scripturalism and experimentalism — in terms of depth of knowledge as well as in terms of Truth; between imitating older paradigms and creating newer ones; following others’ paths and daring to explore uncharted territories while forging our own trails. Losing oneself in the collective identity of the crowd ― the herd ― or standing out.
Experience, you see, cannot be studied or bought, and that’s why it is the mother of all wisdom. It is also why knowing remains different than mere believing.
Following all the years of reading and studying, the soul search eventually led me to myself. For it was my truth that needed to be discovered and not anyone else’s. I then felt compelled to learn through direct experience rather than, like many, build my entire reality on the personal beliefs, metaphorical fables, opinions, foundations of others, which have been absorbed since childhood.
The truth is, the majority of people pass through life without coming to know their true selves. Without removing the veil of illusion and awakening to the conscious experience, they tend to compensate by following the experiences of others. While we can learn from the wise as well as from the fool, making a habit to always look outside oneself for answers, directions, wholeness, spiritual significance does lead to anywhere worth going, certainly not to self-actualisation.
Having your hand held at all times also impairs growth, as much as it threatens freedom, independence, autonomy, and critical thinking. The need is a disempowering crutch that does not serve the evolution of our consciousness nor the development of mere resilience.
But I absolutely had to go through it all to reach where I am today. And for that I remain truly and wholeheartedly grateful.
After the extended period of searching, seeking, questioning I found my inner light — true being — and, apparently, it has been within me all along. You see, when we go through our own hell and survive it, when we evolve to a certain frequency and fully know ourselves, there seems to be no need to follow, belong to, associate with any isms or schisms. You are finally enough. For the Kingdom of Heaven is nowhere but within you.
As recounted in Who Are We?, Why We Should Not Fear Death, The Ashram Sweeper Who Blocked Me on Facebook, OLS Reflections 42 — The Spiritual Edition, then more personally in My Journey Towards Self-Transcendence, you come to the realisation that using labels, be it spiritual or otherwise, to try to fit in by separating oneself from others goes against the Human Condition. It is the ‘Us’ and ‘Them’ tribal and hostile ideology, aggressive even.
Another realisation is that it is not our beliefs that matter in the end, but our love, empathy, and compassion; how we treat others. One can indeed be a decent human being just by being themself. Because down deep inside, at the very core, we are all One — unlabelled.
A different piece to follow in later years is The Parable of the Nugget of Truth, which remains in a category by itself in terms of storytelling and topic.
Verily, if one is still waiting for some leader, guru, middleman, partner, or even certain institutions, strategies, methods, rituals, rules, books to offer them spiritual significance and to make them feel whole and safe and protected, they have not yet discovered the Tao to their full potential. For as educational as they could be, those means, like lighthouse beams, are mere tools which could only point to the entrance of the cave, but one must enter by themselves; so that they may own their truth, leading them to actual liberation and self-actualisation.
Attempting to relive and mimic the stories of the past in order to gain a reward in the future or in fear of retribution can only get us so far. Because it takes us away from the authenticity of the present moment, often causing anxiety and restlessness from wanting to be good and to do the right thing... yet according to a past that no longer exists and in hope for some unknown future that hasn’t existed yet.
It likewise implies to our every nerve ending that we, as we are, are not enough; that we need to depend on a source of authority, again an entity outside ourselves, to show us how to navigate our own waves of lives and regulate our own emotions; to lead us to salvation, enlightenment, the Promise Land, or whatever is it one may be seeking. This infantilising fear-based dependence tend to render people meek, mushy, and overly fragile. Fear of death that is, of the unknown it represents ― or the end of the known.
The same dependence deny people from having their own mystical experiences. As in awaken to their true nature by having a direct communion with the Ultimate Ground of Being, Nature, God or whatever you want to call it; a direct perception of truth. It is an untaught, non inferential Knowledge of the Soul, which in fact makes it an integral element of mysticism, rendering the role of the mediators and the whole organised religions establishment obsolete.
To Know Thyself, as the Ancient Egyptians knew, is the key to illumination ― as simple and as much of a cliché as it may sound. This of course made mystical experiences regarded as dangerous knowledge, which had to be demonised and concealed by the few who wanted control the masses along with their God fables and narratives.
As such, each realised man and woman ought to be a light unto themselves. Depend on no one in matters of the heart. And to know thyself is what it takes. Doing the inner Work using the findings comes next. The more you know yourself, the more following others will seem futile. Through direct experience, self-knowledge then becomes the journey during which our inner truth is found and owned. This Rabbit Hole is a bottomless pit ― an everlasting endeavour guiding the soul as it keeps spiralling closer and deeper towards its inner core. In the words of Carl Jung, “We meet ourselves time and again in a thousand disguises on the path of life.”
The Hero’s Journey may very well be challenging, uncomfortable, and solitary, but to those who can bear it it is certainly worth it. The more illumination on the individual level, the more illumination on the human collective. For everyone and everything are interconnected in this universe. In the same way, the bigger the fire the more darkness it reveals.
I still meditate, alone. I still go to circles, drum circles, where one can freely and genuinely express themselves through music and dancing without having to consider preconceived beliefs, traditions, ideologies. A different, less formal, more improvisational type of unifying circle... still a circle O. I actually went on to found Full Lunacy Drum Circle out of sheer passion for drumming and for the full moon, first in Los Angeles then in Dahab.
One can say I live to the beat of my own drum in the present Here and Now and have never felt more at peace. Spiritual truth is a pathless endeavour, my Dear Ones.
The divine spark you seek is already within you. Allow it to shine through you unobstructed and it will eternally light your way. Truly, get into yourself and investigate and you may come to realise that you are the Consciousness of Mankind.
It likewise implies to our every nerve ending that we, as we are, are not enough; that we need to depend on a source of authority, again an entity outside ourselves, to show us how to navigate our own waves of lives and regulate our own emotions; to lead us to salvation, enlightenment, the Promise Land, or whatever is it one may be seeking. This infantilising fear-based dependence tend to render people meek, mushy, and overly fragile. Fear of death that is, of the unknown it represents ― or the end of the known.
The same dependence deny people from having their own mystical experiences. As in awaken to their true nature by having a direct communion with the Ultimate Ground of Being, Nature, God or whatever you want to call it; a direct perception of truth. It is an untaught, non inferential Knowledge of the Soul, which in fact makes it an integral element of mysticism, rendering the role of the mediators and the whole organised religions establishment obsolete.
To Know Thyself, as the Ancient Egyptians knew, is the key to illumination ― as simple and as much of a cliché as it may sound. This of course made mystical experiences regarded as dangerous knowledge, which had to be demonised and concealed by the few who wanted control the masses along with their God fables and narratives.
As such, each realised man and woman ought to be a light unto themselves. Depend on no one in matters of the heart. And to know thyself is what it takes. Doing the inner Work using the findings comes next. The more you know yourself, the more following others will seem futile. Through direct experience, self-knowledge then becomes the journey during which our inner truth is found and owned. This Rabbit Hole is a bottomless pit ― an everlasting endeavour guiding the soul as it keeps spiralling closer and deeper towards its inner core. In the words of Carl Jung, “We meet ourselves time and again in a thousand disguises on the path of life.”
The Hero’s Journey may very well be challenging, uncomfortable, and solitary, but to those who can bear it it is certainly worth it. The more illumination on the individual level, the more illumination on the human collective. For everyone and everything are interconnected in this universe. In the same way, the bigger the fire the more darkness it reveals.
I still meditate, alone. I still go to circles, drum circles, where one can freely and genuinely express themselves through music and dancing without having to consider preconceived beliefs, traditions, ideologies. A different, less formal, more improvisational type of unifying circle... still a circle O. I actually went on to found Full Lunacy Drum Circle out of sheer passion for drumming and for the full moon, first in Los Angeles then in Dahab.
One can say I live to the beat of my own drum in the present Here and Now and have never felt more at peace. Spiritual truth is a pathless endeavour, my Dear Ones.
The divine spark you seek is already within you. Allow it to shine through you unobstructed and it will eternally light your way. Truly, get into yourself and investigate and you may come to realise that you are the Consciousness of Mankind.
“I looked in temples, churches, and mosques.
But I found the Divine within my heart.”
― Rumi
Who Are We?
My Journey Towards Self-Transcendence
Why We Should Not Fear Death
The Parable of the Nugget of Truth
What Being Conscious Means
Dance With Your Demons
OLS Reflections 42 — The Spiritual Edition
Unfollow The Crowd
The Ashram Sweeper Who Blocked Me on Facebook Over The Topic of Psychedelics
Change Is The Only Constant
Things I Got Rid Of To Become Happier
The Intertwining of Genius and Insanity
The Intertwining of Music and Sexuality ― A Djembefola’s Tale
The Intertwining of Pain and Pleasure
Out-of-Body Experience and Ego Death on a “Heroic Dose” of Mushrooms
Opiated Then Hatin’ It
Dealing with High Awareness and Empathic Accuracy
The Archaic Origin of the Swastika Symbol [with Photos]
Dreaming That The Buddha Was Not Fat
But I found the Divine within my heart.”
― Rumi
ALSO VIEW:
Who Are We?
My Journey Towards Self-Transcendence
Why We Should Not Fear Death
The Parable of the Nugget of Truth
What Being Conscious Means
Dance With Your Demons
OLS Reflections 42 — The Spiritual Edition
Unfollow The Crowd
The Ashram Sweeper Who Blocked Me on Facebook Over The Topic of Psychedelics
Change Is The Only Constant
Things I Got Rid Of To Become Happier
The Intertwining of Genius and Insanity
The Intertwining of Music and Sexuality ― A Djembefola’s Tale
The Intertwining of Pain and Pleasure
Out-of-Body Experience and Ego Death on a “Heroic Dose” of Mushrooms
Opiated Then Hatin’ It
Dealing with High Awareness and Empathic Accuracy
The Archaic Origin of the Swastika Symbol [with Photos]
Dreaming That The Buddha Was Not Fat
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