Be here now; go with the flow.
These seven words contain so much wisdom that I hardly know where to begin to clarify and elaborate them, but I think that some notion of the energetic body is a good place to start.
As far as I can tell, based on countless testimonies from those who have detached from their earthly bodies, the energetic body will be the body “I” occupy when my earthly body expires.
At the very least, “I” refers to an identity infused with Presence, but I can elaborate even further, by way of analogy: soul is to spirit as vessel is to vehicle as container is to carrier.
In essence, when and where soul contains (quality), spirit carries (vitality).
In life, the energetic body resides within the material body, but in life after life, in addition to having a mind for Presence, the energetic body is both soul and spirit, vessel and vehicle, container and carrier, making impressions with soul and giving off expressions with spirit. In its encounters with quality, the energetic body has soul. In its experiences of vitality, the energetic body has spirit.
“Be here now” is for a soul that can dwell in the moment through its encounters with quality.
Example: in a contemplative state buoyed by Presence, the heart of a soul can have sacred moments by candlelight at an altar designed to display arrangements of sacred, artistic, or healing objects.
“Go with the flow” is for a spirit that can move in the moment through its experiences of vitality.
Example: in a state of excitation, exhilaration, anticipation, or inspiration, the spirit can have divine experiences with the performance of a lifetime, vicariously, or authentically as an actual performer.
This is not an artificial split. I am not advocating that you cleave your Being down the middle. I am merely making a conceptual distinction. Ideally, soul dwells and spirit moves in unity and harmony.
With this preamble in mind, let us now turn to a consideration of clarity and confusion.
The Significance of Clarity and Confusion
Speaking metaphorically, when I keep a promise, I hold it safe and secure in the heart of my soul, but there’s another sense of promise that can be brought to light from the heart of what matters.
This promise is a ground of expectation that I behave, practice, perform, improve, succeed, commit, and/or excel as required or desired, conferring quality to my interactions and possessions.
You might say that the heart of my soul contains this promise, and that my soul, being a vessel and a container of sorts, holds this promise for my locus of control with every encounter.
That is to say, my soul holds promise for conferring quality quickly and spontaneously on all manner of “people, places, and things”, and with my locus of control, I can then activate and execute this promise with a purpose informed by need or inspired by desire.
A purpose, any purpose, comes into focus as and when I step into my locus of control, in a sphere of influence at the intersection of soul and spirit – at a point where I make my choices and decisions.
Confusion, however, can arise anywhere, with anyone, at any time.
Confusion arises from a loss of sense in time, place, or identity: what time is it? what time of day is it? what time of year is it? where am I? who am I? what am I doing here? where am I going?
Parenthetically, this existential confusion has been known to arise for some souls when their earthly bodies expire suddenly or traumatically at the start of their near-death scenarios.
Just to be clear: a temporary loss of focus is not, in and of and by itself, confusion. Rather, such a loss can bring about confusion, which means I can be present with this loss, without confusion.
My focus, if its wholesome, aligns with my promise, and my focus, if its wholesome, activates promise with a purpose, and my focus, if its wholesome, follows through on this purpose with passion, and my focus, if its wholesome, consciously tames and/or rides and/or ramps up this passion for a purpose.
Let us consider an example that necessarily applies to every soul on the planet.
Consider this common expression: “home is where the heart is”. A sense of home (even if you travel the world on a regular basis) is a basic requirement for having or gaining a sense of fulfillment.
Having a home, or a sense of home, is synonymous with having a soulful sense of promise, but it’s also a spiritual projection of promise – both a projection of subjective promise (e.g., “with this home, I can do this, this, and this”) and collective promise (e.g., “with this home, we can do this”).
A wholesome focus aligns with this promise, activating it with a purpose: keeping it safe and/or secure and/or familiar and/or clean and/or spacious and/or functional and/or attractive and/or comfortable.
When I know exactly what I need and/or want in a home, there’s no confusion: I have a clarity of purpose that either fulfills the promise or seeks to fulfill the promise of having a sense of home.
Outside of home, confusion arises when I feel compelled to relinquish my locus of control, cutting the link between promise and purpose, and losing my sense of time, place, or identity in the process.
I might even bring this confusion home with me – or save it for bedtime.
This compulsion to surrender control strikes at the heart of who I am for two reasons: (1) “I can no longer relate in any meaningful way to what’s expected of me”, and (2) “I can no longer cope with what’s going around me (in front of me or behind me).” Either my sense of meaning is compromised (adversely affecting my soul) or my sense of direction is undermined (adversely affecting my spirit).
As we well know, however, entering the unknown is the best way for us to learn and grow. Indeed, a fear of the unknown is really the fear of losing control, of becoming confused and conflicted …
… of being blamed and shamed into submission because of dashed expectations.
Who cares about exploring the subtleties and complexities of body, mind, heart, soul, and spirit when you’re on the verge of losing control? (and I’m not talking about a voluntary surrender of control)
No one. No one does and no one can.
And yet, if our aim is to open ourselves up to our true potential and consciously realize a portion of it, then getting intimate with the subtleties of who and what we are just might help us do that.
I get confused when I surrender my locus of control, when I get caught in a swirl of activity, in the midst of I can not and will not believe this is happening to me. That which lies hidden within reveals itself in moments of disruption. Confusion is my opportunity to allow truth to make an appearance.
If I prudently and wisely view confusion as rich with potential, then I might not be so quick to chase it away in willful action. As I remain with confusion, I go more deeply into it without expectation, holding the tension of “not knowing”. I suspend, for a time, my need for clarity, control, and certainty.
As I become more aware of how my impulse to act can interfere with my true knowing, and as I allow myself to settle comfortably and wisely into my stance with confusion, rather than run circles over it or around it or through it, I might gain a deeper insight into the situation or circumstances at hand.
I open myself to a place of clarity, even serenity: I welcome clarity; I clear a space in the heart of my soul for something new and different and possible to claim me. I appreciate clarity all the more when I remind myself to reverse the usual procedure, thus: “Don’t just do something, stand there.”
This lofty perspective, of course, is ideal, and not always practical. That is, I need to be somewhat realized before I can apply it with any consistency as I go more deeply into the unknown.
In other words, I cannot be clear about anything unless I’ve had experience with it.
Out of body, after the body and brain shut down, an energetic body can survey its surroundings with uncommon clarity – uncommon, that is, to anyone who occupies a material body.
If testimony after testimony of those who have left their material bodies tell us again and again that crystal clarity of thought and feeling is par for the course, why this need for confusion?
Is it so that I can feel vulnerable, and if so, why this need for vulnerability? Might it be because, as a being of light with a mind, a soul, and a spirit, I need a catalyst for self-realization?
If so, what might the nature of this realization look like, sound like, and feel like?
Stay tuned, as I go deeper and deeper into the heart of who and what I am.
This post is the third in a series that began here.