A meaningful turning toward the Divine has nothing to do with what people usually practice and call prayer.
Their image of God is based on a God who does not do everything for His children that He actually could, and who does not know what they need, but who can be persuaded to change His mind. The means are incantations, sermons, requests, rosaries, pleas, begging, countless Our Fathers, songs, and the ceaseless repetition of mantras. In a word, it is a ceaseless stream of speech.
In contrast stands the form of interaction known as meditation, which—originating from Eastern tradition—has now taken root in the West. Medieval mystical-contemplative practices (e.g., Teresa of Avila or the Cloud author) were stifled in their time by the Inquisition under the accusation of “misguided forms of prayer.”
Through its phase of silence, meditation aims at communion with the divine soul within; it is about dialogue with it, about the perceptible (!) experience of its presence.
Conventional Prayer Meditation
speaking – listening
publicly – hidden in the quiet inner chamber
wanting, pleading – thanking
fulfillment of desires – surrendering the soul’s desires
wanting to have; using God – wanting God; leaving everything to Him
Duality: I here, God somewhere there – above Polarity: God within me,
monodirectional – dialogical
urging – waiting
doubt in omnipotence – trust in omnipotence
perspective of the ego – perspective of the soul
consciousness of lack – consciousness of abundance
unrestrained stream of thoughts – emptying of thoughts
dominance of the mind’s activity – allowing the soul’s activity
Seen in this light, there is a worldly and a spiritual conception of prayer. The worldly one predominantly seeks something worldly. The spiritual one strives above all for contact with the divine essence within, with the truth of life; it affirms something that is already within us, but whose access or effectiveness has been buried, and it waits devotedly for the soul’s signal. Everyone knows from experience that the fulfillment of material desires sometimes turns out well and sometimes badly. Very few realize, however, that it is always dictated by self-preservation. The fulfillment of desires only works when the pattern of self-preservation is abandoned and contact with the **(spiritual)** soul is sought instead. Then the soul takes on our concerns and fulfills them, provided they are compatible with the greater good.
**Because the term “soul” is used in very different ways: Here it is understood as the higher-inner spiritual part of the human being (see Chapter 1), the inner voice, intuition, the spiritual core of the human being, the Son of God, his spirit-soul. The addition of “spirit” is intended to prevent confusion between “soul” and “spirit.” It is intended to convey that “soul” refers to the earthly-psychic dimension—as, for example, in “SOS”: “Save Our Souls,” that is, material, mortal life. In contrast, “spirit” refers to the spiritual, immortal voice, the presence of God within the human being. (“You are all gods.” John 10:34) (“The Kingdom of God is within you.” Luke 17:12)
The term “consciousness,” in turn, refers to the material dimension and denotes the realm of perception of the respective impulses. Jesus often uses the terms “Kingdom of God” or “Kingdom of Heaven” for the spirit soul. Like the horizontal, material, instinctual soul, it is an integral part of human inner life. Consciousness is the zone of perceptual possibility for both parts, although from the moment of birth the material part, the psyche, dominates consciousness. Receptivity to the spiritual part initially remains in the realm of the unconscious—apart from “gut feelings” or pangs of conscience – but can, in principle, be developed through meditative training.
The further the influence of the spiritual soul advances, the more the consciousness of needs diminishes. Need implies a denial of the perfection of creation. What is denied is “full sufficiency”—life without lack and in abundance, which is, after all, potentially already present within. It merely awaits its activation through recognition.
Mephisto calls himself the “spirit who always denies.” He is the embodiment of the lower part of the soul, that structure of drives and needs within the human being that strives to remedy deficiencies and does not realize that it is this very striving—in the sense of “the Id itself/egocentric desire to fight for something”—that creates these deficiencies in the first place. That is why daily life consists of countless discrepancies between the target and the actual state. (This applies even to people who live in total luxury, albeit to a lesser extent. That is why they also have fewer chances of finding the spiritual path. A rich person does not need God.) The ego constantly wants to achieve goals or is constantly on the hunt for the fulfillment of its desires, instead of seeking contact with its soul. In doing so, the ego denies the actual spiritual identity of the human being. But if one were to “seek” this and succeed in doing so, everything necessary would be provided. This is not only stated in Matthew 6 but is the tangible experience of all those who have successfully “sought.” The gap between the ideal and the actual would then be increasingly bridged. Inner guidance provides not only everything that is essential for life and, furthermore, what brings fulfillment—even without being asked—but also what is necessary for the realization of the increasingly prominent tasks for the common good.
Conventional prayer aims for God to bring about something, specifically in the interest of the one praying. It is ego-driven. Yet the sages have taught that God has long known what we need, even before we ourselves know it. Thus, praying for worldly things, such as daily bread, is pointless. It is as if, standing under a parasol, one were to ask the sun to please shine. Above all, the countless attempts over the past millennia to beg God for an end to hunger, war, hardship, and misery have never been answered. People have offered animal and human sacrifices, performed incantation rituals, made bribes such as indulgences, donated endlessly in an attempt to strike a deal, and so on, but it has been to no avail.
They did it to fulfill their ego-driven goals and could not see that it did not work. Meditation is something entirely different. The search for contact with the inner voice has a specific purpose, but certainly not the one that ordinary people attribute to it. As mentioned, they have self-preservation desires that they wish to fulfill.
“You must not cry out to God,
the spring is within you;
if you do not block the outlet,
it flows on and on. “
(Angelus Silesius: Cherubic Wanderer I, 55)
The purpose of the spiritual search for contact with the (spiritual) soul is to overcome the separation from it, for it is precisely this detachment that is the source of all evil and suffering. The result of this reconnection is that it guides and advises us, unscathed and successfully, through the ups and downs of everyday life, down to the finest detail. In this way, the soul demonstrates its physical efficacy in the here and now through preserving, healing, protecting, providing for, and guiding. Christianity refers to the agent of this transition of the invisible force into the visible material dimension—this transformation—as the “Holy Spirit.” Once contact is established, it may happen that the soul, for example when taking medication, recommends drastically increasing or decreasing the prescribed dose to allow the effectiveness to fully unfold. It recognizably guides—through a kind of inner urge—toward certain decisions or, conversely, brakes impending wrong decisions, such as when buying a used car. Those who cultivate their ability to listen inwardly gain invaluable guidance in decision-making through it. It can guide one toward the right decision before important choices (vaccinating children, choosing a doctor, buying a home, moving, career moves). Then one lives a life according to the principle “Thy will be done!”
For a moment, my soul blocks my steering wheel movement to pass on the left when a passing car was just in my blind spot. It causes me to visit a website where the product I’ve been searching for so long is finally found—and perhaps even at a special price. It advises me on online purchases, such as clothing, and helps with grocery shopping to avoid drawbacks like pesticides and make the best choice. It accomplishes all this and more when I succeed in “gut feeling” by turning to her with trust and asking for guidance. Homer symbolically portrays this in the Odyssey by referring to the “invocation (!) of the Muse” and later constantly consults with the goddess. This is a demonstration of trust, not a plea for material benefits. His entire life prior to this was shaped by the principle “My will be done!”
Conventional prayer is a mindset of lack
“Give us this day our daily bread!” He has always done nothing else. Yet we often still do not receive it because we—unconsciously—do everything possible to prevent its very receipt: The first thing is that we clothe ourlack in the form of prayer and beg for a solution to our problems. But a mindset of lack simply creates lack, and therefore such prayers are counterproductive and a disregard for creation, which is “very good” (Gen. 1).
Of course, there are situations in which even those guided by the soul find themselves in earthly distress. And of course, they turn to their inner guidance. But they do not present their problem as a problem (= lack). They are aware of their inner radiant essence—as omnipotence—(which means that we are soul) and, based on their spiritual experience, express their gratitude that they live by this inner voice. They know that there is actually nothing to ask for; for whoever is reconnected to the soul has everything anyway, including material things. But often the soul does not merely want us to surrender our will to it, but rather that we direct it by asking for advice or seeking guidance (“What should I do now?”) or even ask for spiritual progress. The meditators express their confidence that the solution will be revealed to them, ask “Show me the way!” and wait. In some cases, the answer comes promptly.
I am on my way home from Budapest to Hamburg. My taxi from the train station to Ferihegy Airport gets caught in an unexpected traffic jam—one the driver describes as unusual. It takes over an hour longer, even though the driver takes the wildest detours. Because of this complication, he charges me only half the amount shown on the meter. But even so, I’m left with just a single euro. Since I have my plane ticket and my car keys, though, I don’t need anything else for Hamburg. I arrive five minutes after boarding has ended; the gate is closed. I show my passport and ticket, want to quickly check my suitcase, and hear: “The aircraft has gone!” Since that can’t be right, I run to the baggage carousel on the other side. There I hear the same thing. The employee makes a call and confirms that, unusually, the flight has already left a bit early. Despair threatens to overwhelm me. I have no cash, no credit card, or anything like that, and cell phones didn’t exist back then. I have no money for a hotel, not even for the bus to the consulate, and it’s closed on Saturday evenings anyway. I now push all negative thoughts aside, turn inward, and ask for guidance. Then there is a moment of calm and silence. Without my mind clearly knowing what to do, my steps lead me back to the check-in counter. The employee listens to my story again, looks me up and down, glances at her monitor, and sits there for a minute. Suddenly she stands up and says, “What I’m about to do, is not allowed. I’m giving you a seat on the flight to Hamburg tomorrow evening at the same departure time.” She issues me a ticket; I spend the night on the airport benches, wait through the next day, and fly to Hamburg in the evening on a fully booked plane, arriving home exhausted but happy after a long drive.
A key reason why prayers go unanswered is that by constantly producing thoughts, words, and sounds, we ensure that the quiet voice of the soul is drowned out and cannot be heard. This blocks the channel through which it becomes effective. For we must be guided by the gentle voice from within, and not by external considerations, views, teachings, and interpretations. The more the mind comes to rest, the more the voice of the soul becomes effective. As long as thoughts are allowed to rage, there is neither true meditation nor connection with the soul.
Other factors that prevent us from making contact with inner guidance are desires (except those with spiritual content; see below) and the belief that earthly people or circumstances have power.
As for desires, they are almost automatically linked to “I” and “mine” and clearly reveal their egoistic nature. There are countless examples of this regarding building a house, choosing a partner, taking out loans, desires for children, career goals, etc. No one knows what the truth is; no one knows what is right and best for everyone involved. Only when the mind is successfully set aside can this truth unfold. That is why Robert Browning writes in *Paracelsus* that the channel must be opened so that the “imprisoned radiance” may be set free.
Unlike material requests, those concerning spiritual goals—that is, requests for guidance, enlightenment, counsel, etc.—are obvious, practical, and effective. It is no coincidence that Homer begins the Odyssey with the “invocation of the Muse ” . Even in critical situations, appeals like “Don’t let me down now!”—despite some apparent contradictions—are anything but impractical; they provide stability and are effective.
As for interacting with the soul, the focus—alongside spiritual contemplation—is on silence. It is the stilling of the mind by halting the constant barrage of thoughts. Eastern tradition demonstrates this to us. Then our divine core provides us with solutions in the form of flashes of insight, inspirations, ideas, etc. They come when necessary and, above all, upon request. In this respect, silence is not the goal, but rather the foundation or prerequisite for the influx of soul power. In contrast to Eastern traditions, silence has been relatively less known in the West until very recently. However, it is not a planned or meaningless silence, but rather a focused listening, which we initiate with the request “Speak!” (see above, the invocation) and thereby establish a suitable framework or mindset. In doing so, we express that we wish to be contacted, advised, and guided by our soul.
In the world of Islamic fairy tales, Aladdin must rub the lamp each time for the genie to appear.
One factor that prevents interaction with the soul, as mentioned, is the pleading for things, for material improvement. When the vessel of consciousness is already full of hopes, plans, and desires, nothing more can enter to bring fulfillment:
In Eastern Zen wisdom, there is a story about a professor who seeks instruction from a Zen master. The master offers tea and fills the seeker’s cup to the brim, continuing to pour into the already full cup. When the professor cries out in horror that the cup is already full, the master replies that this is a symbol of the student’s consciousness: a consciousness already filled with knowledge and prejudices can no longer absorb any truths.
Incidentally, Jesus never asked God to do anything material for anyone. Rather, he said: “Get up, take your bed, and walk!” In doing so, he also made it clear that it was not he who had healed the paralytic, but that the paralytic’s own shift in consciousness regarding the powerlessness of evil brought about the healing. In this respect, the prayers in places of worship are by no means the focus for developing a dialogue with the inner God. And they consist of reciting preformulated set phrases rather than individually addressing the very personal situation of the person praying.
For people pray in public instead of going into a private room, closing the door behind them, and turning to God in secret (Matt. 6:6).
They are noisy and thus drown out the “still, small voice” (1 Kings 19: 12).
They are also both flawed and predominantly materialistic in orientation, rather than focusing on spiritual goals, on “seeking.”
They contain misleading intonations such as “Thy will be done!” with the emphasis on the last syllable instead of the first.
It is generally overlooked that it is not God as a central power who fulfills our wishes, but our own consciousness, which is divine (Chr. : Son of God) and actualizes itself. Since we generally do not know our own divine identity with the associated power that transcends good and evil, we have relinquished this co-creatorship, thereby distancing ourselves from our destiny-shaping power and even charging our concerns with a sense of lack. In the best-case scenario, this leads to our prayers going unanswered and our wishes remaining unfulfilled. The American transcendental philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson writes on this subject:
“What kind of prayers do people allow themselves? … Any prayer that asks for some particular advantage … is blasphemous. True prayer is the contemplation of the things of this life from the highest perspective. It is the Spirit of God speaking that His work is good. Prayer as a means to achieve some private goal is meanness and theft.”
(Essays, Part 1, Chapter 3)
Awareness of Fullness in Meditation
The fact that their prayers are not answered does not deter people from trying again and again. People pray to a God:
(a) who has no idea what his children might need,
(b) who, in their opinion, withholds something from them,
(c) who does not do everything he could for his children,
(d) who can be persuaded,
(e) whom they want to move through prayer to finally hand over what is desired,
(f) who distributes his gifts to some upon request, but not to others.
This kind of prayer turns the Creator into a sort of Santa Claus. They are marked by scarcity rather than recognizing the abundance of this world. They express a sense of lack through wanting, wishing, and pleading. In doing so, they prevent the Spirit of God and its abundance from reaching the supplicants. This was demonstrated by the Buddha: He had searched in vain for a long time and only found enlightenment when he had cast aside all concepts of desire and begun to meditate. This is also illustrated by the following passage:
“Seek first the Kingdom of God, …
and all these things will be added to you.”
By “Kingdom of God” is meant our divine consciousness. Its divine sonship expresses the relationship of the sunbeam to the sun. This sonship is not the sun, but its expression. It warms earthly life with its warmth and illuminates it with its light. It transcends the categories of good and evil, recognizes the purely good behind the evil surface, and contains no deficiency. This manifests itself, among other things, in the renunciation of revenge and in constant forgiveness, especially to enemies. If not all good things come our way, then our striving for divine consciousness was not very serious.
For we are already always provided with everything we need, and with even more—not just the bare necessities! This is easily seen in the fact that the Earth is so incredibly rich in resources that, with its freshwater supplies, timber, mineral resources, fish and livestock stocks, and fertile soils, can comfortably sustain far more than the current seven billion people. How, then, can it be that we are mired in existential problems of acute hunger, malnutrition, climate catastrophe, nuclear threat, crime, displacement, and war?
“I have come that they may have life and have it in abundance.”
The reason is that this Higher Self, which is within every human being, must be recognized by him so that full fulfillment may unfold. Everyone who has taken the risk of not first seeking material fulfillment, but instead first seeking and finding access to their Higher Self
(though they were only led there through harsh blows of fate). Moreover, despite occasional dramatic deprivation, they have maintained the certainty that the winter-bare fruit tree will guarantee full satisfaction in due time. But who goes through their daily life, at every step, confidently and humbly aware of their likeness to God (Gen. 1:27)?
Recognition is like handling a lamp. Without connection to electricity, it does not shine; one can pray as much as you want. The connection is characterized by the fact that we called upon the “Muse,” thereby received the contact, and surrendered our will to divine guidance. We then no longer chase after our goals ourselves, but wait and allow what the soul has intended for us in relation to our longing to come to us. What is your will?
How does one find the dialogue?
How does this process of finding the dialogue, the direct connection to the soul, work? Following a plane crash in the early 2000s, the memorial service for the German victims was broadcast. The clergyman began his sermon from the pulpit, essentially saying that we all knew how unspeakably difficult it would be to live with a God who would not speak to us. That is a statement that makes it hard not to fall out of your TV chair.
Our inner voice speaks to us time and again. It manifests as an inner sensation of being urged in a certain direction or as a hindrance to a decision in another direction. It manifests as part of our dreams, often those that recur. It manifests as a happy “coincidence,” as an inexplicable, “miraculous” rescue, or even as a premonition. It manifests as signs that are actually impossible to overlook, such as when everything one touches goes wrong, or as intolerance when one consumes foods that are harmful. It manifests as illness, which signals one’s deviation from the soul’s path. It also manifests itself as conscience and as gut feeling. An example from Jewish wisdom is Job: He did not speak about God, but with Him, and God answered (!), just as He does today with everyone who persistently “knocks.” (Only in rare cases has this happened without seeking or knocking, as with Johanna, see below.) First and foremost, however, our inner spiritual guidance manifests as a dialogue partner in every conceivable situation of daily life, even if this dialogue is predominantly one-sided and mostly takes the form of response-impulses to our earthly, material, and above all spiritual questions.
Finding the dialogue with the inner voice is achieved through meditation:
Christian wisdom puts it this way: “… knock, and it will be opened to you!”
The Islamic Sufi mystic Rumi chooses a flowery style of expression:
“Milk cannot flow unless one sucks at it.” (Masnavi I, 2388)
The Indo-Arabic-Persian tale of “Aladdin and the Magic Lamp” speaks of rubbing this lamp to activate the genie and thus a higher power.
The Buddha expresses this in the Dhammapada as follows: “Without concentration, there is no wisdom.” (25, 372)
The Hindu wisdom of the Gita states: “Whoever boldly walks the path inward will soon reach the realm of the Divine.” (V, 6)
Lao Tzu writes in the Tao Te Ching:
“Whoever closes their eyes becomes aware of the invisible.” (14)
Even Goethe, not exactly a mystic, crafts the following verse in his poem “Legacy”:
“Turn inward at once; you will find the center within.”
We consciously and gratefully accept the invitation to knock by responding through meditation. By retreating into a quiet refuge and closing our eyes, we turn away from the outside world as much as possible; this first affects the external setting, then bodily sensations, and finally the realm of thought. We strive to create the greatest possible distance between consciousness —which is something entirely different from thinking—and the unwanted and uninvited thoughts or impulses of the instinctual soul. This is not easy, for from childhood onward we were never—just as our ancestors were not—taught to suppress fear, anger, vindictiveness, worry, or negative thoughts in general.
In the Eastern tradition, this is quite different. Hinduism and Buddhism have developed diverse methods to block out mental activity in order to attain stillness. For only in this state does the language of the spirit come through correctly and consciously. The mental assaults of fear, worry, and anger come from “below ,” from the program of self-preservation. Intuition comes from “above”; but it flows in only through silence and invocation. The barrage of thoughts serves the seductive function of distracting us from the path to the soul and binding us to the connections and laws of the material world of this vale of tears. Symbolically, this is illustrated by the story of the Prodigal Son, who seeks his happiness “outside” (just like Parzival) and leaves the inner “Father’s court.” In Homer’s Odyssey, it is the “suitors” who seek to conquer Penelope—our soul. Through silence or the emptying of the mind, the separation between myself and the soul is reduced, and I increasingly establish unity with it.
Contemplation takes place primarily through listening. One communicates, so to speak, with the ears (turned inward) and not with the mouth. Then, one day, the spirit will speak to us. Then one can physically (!) feel its presence (see below). Meditation is the only means to seize the opportunity for dialogue with the soul, to establish contact, and to sustain it.
For those who have found this dialogue, it unfolds in a very direct and engaging way. The inner voice responds immediately, as in a conversation between people, though rarely with human sentences and explanations, but mostly with a strikingly deep inhalation in response to questions, that can be answered with yes or no. It responds only in the case of yes. It knows no no. It can also express itself through a sense of urgency, an inner image, a tingling in the palms of the hands, or other physical sensations. Furthermore, it also acts of its own accord, which is always perceived by the everyday person as “coincidence,” “luck,” “like a miracle,” “whole squadrons of guardian angels” (a pilot who escaped from Stalingrad at the last moment), etc.
As the dialogue progresses, the spiritual seeker encounters the following two phenomena during meditation:
1) At some point, he will have to realize that his inner inspirations become contradictory and, in some cases, even nonsensical. From this moment on, he must acknowledge that on the spiritual side there are not just one, but two entities—or rather, that a second entity has intervened with the intent to cause confusion. This is a phenomenon that the Bhagavad Gita alludes to in two verses:
“The knower honors the gods, the attached serves the demons, the fool serves the lowest spirits, …” (XVII,4)
Through hatred, worry, and fear-mongering, these demons and the lowest spirits promote the belief in multiplicity, which indeed appears to be the only reality in the visible world, but is deceptive because it conceals the unity behind it. This deception, driven by impulse and instinct, is the belief that bodies, with their lives (!), are separate from one another. This consciousness is oriented exclusively toward matter, forms, and bodies. It is the consciousness of animals. Added to this are false knowledge and mental rigidity. (XVIII, 20–22)
The “knower” must then develop methods to distinguish between the two sources. As early as the Middle Ages, this phenomenon was described and analyzed under the heading “Discernment of Spirits,” as, for example, by Heinrich von Friemar: The Treatise on the Discernment of Spirits. These and other sources refer to the multitude of passages in the New Testament, such as “Do not believe every spirit …” (1 John 4:1).
2) The aspirant experiences waking up in the middle of the night at roughly the same time each time. As this becomes more frequent, the question of the reason arises: It is a call from the soul. It calls for a nightly meditation, which is often intended not for his own benefit, but for the sake of another person or circumstance.
The prerequisite for achieving this dialogue—that is, for the door to be “opened”—is first and foremost the decision to take the step into meditation: the “seeking of the Kingdom of God.” The next point is just as crucial: One must be prepared to remain persistent and unwavering in regular meditation until something happens. It is not enough to think only in terms of months. It is like drilling a tunnel through a mountain range. It takes an infinitely long time, but then the breakthrough comes. One must not become sluggish and fall back into daily routines. The main excuse here is: “No time!” Your sincerity is being tested. The Nazarene emphasizes this requirement to stay the course in Matthew (25:13).
Then it is crucial to structure the meditation from the outset as a dialogue. This means that the phase of silence (see below) cannot simply be a stopping of thoughts, but is understood as a conscious listening. This phase is initiated by a spiritual request, namely that of “invoking the muse,” i.e., we ask the soul for dialogue. As mentioned, this is symbolically represented in the Arabic fairy tale by Aladdin rubbing the lamp he has discovered so that the genie appears. This process corresponds to the “seeking” of spiritual consciousness, as stated in Matthew chapter 6, or as William Penn calls it, “the inner preparation of the heart.” Above all, the silence is not ended simply because one no longer feels like it or believes one can now stop. Rather, during the passive phase of silence, one waits for a feeling as a signal of release and only then ends it. That is the crucial point. One does not decide for oneself, but leaves this decision to the inner voice: “Thy will be done!” It is, of course, clear that this conception of spiritual dialogue is a slap in the face to the ego, which always wants to be self-determined and independent.
In 1570, the mystic Valentin Weigel expressed the significance of silence, the highest form of meditation, as follows:
“God gives us beforehand what we ask for
and comes to us beforehand, …
God commands us to love,
we are to love Him and our neighbor, …
He also wants to work love within us Himself,
if only we could remain silent …”
(Church or Home Devotional. Gospel for the Sunday of Misericordias Domini)
Here, Weigel names charity, supplication, and silence as elements of meditation. Western religious systems essentially know only material supplication, whereas in the Eastern scriptures, silence is a central component of the quest for access to the Divine, precisely through meditation.
“Let him who practices yoga sit
in quiet seclusion
alone, master of his thoughts,
nothing earthly, only God in mind. …
then subdue the host of senses
with a resolute spirit from within.”
(Bhagavad Gita VI; 10, 24)
The Practice of Meditation
Before beginning the actual meditation, one first draws attention away from the body through progressive muscle relaxation or similar methods, and then away from thoughts and feelings. The decisive tool for mental control is the observation of thoughts. One learns to let them run into emptiness more and more, i.e., not to engage with them or even allow their constant repetitions. Without conscious observation, they do as they please—when the cat is out of the house, so to speak—and that always ends badly for the individual. A mind free of thoughts is the prerequisite for the unfolding of spiritual power (Spirit). At this moment, one undergoes the learning process that thinking and consciousness are two different things:
One has freed oneself from the chatter of thoughts and is nevertheless awake and fully conscious. Through the loss of bodily sensation and then the cessation of mental activity, we leave the horizontal plane of consciousness and enter the vertical spiritual dimension of the inner sun.
Reflections have a place only in the first active phase of meditation. They serve to contemplate certain truths without judgment and to examine them from all angles in relation to one’s own life situation in verbal form, such as: “My grace is sufficient for you” (2 Cor. 12:9). This achieves a state of calm in which the onslaught of the usual mental drumbeat subsides. An important method for warding off this barrage is to mentally ascend to a higher plane: one imagines, for example, one’s own soul with its omnipotence as an aura surrounding one’s physical form. Furthermore, the wisdom sayings and the associated thoughts serve to prevent elements of lack from entering consciousness. Therefore, in this phase, one typically reflects on spiritual content. When dealing with people, one regards them as souls rather than as external human beings. The second part of the active phase involves questions regarding the current problem-solving process and allows for quite concrete inquiries: “What should I do?” Then the transition to the passive mode of silence takes place. Silence is the most important component of prayer or meditation:
Silence brings the mind to rest, and then it becomes effective for the soul.
Silence is a demonstration of trust in inner guidance.
Silence is allowing the soul’s power to enter and take hold, clearing the way for it.
Silence is the counterpart to will and thus to the ego.
Silence prevents identification with thoughts.
Silence is the alternative to thinking about the divine.
Silence removes us from the judgment that anything is bad.
Silence detaches us from the problem and leads us to the truth of “full sufficiency.”
Silence leads to the discovery of one’s own identity and oneness (Ps. 46:10).
Silence leads to the realization that the problem is not mine, but that of the soul.
Silence deepens the insight “The Father in me does the works.”
Silence thus leads to communication with the divine core of being.
In the active phase of meditation, one by no means views the problem as a problem, but as far as possible quite neutrally as a mere fact. This is not easy, for Mephisto brings out the heavy artillery in the form of threatening thoughts. Awareness of the divine identity with omnipotence within helps against this. Every time panic arises, one immediately turns to one’s own inner identity as the Son of God. Nor does one ask for the solution to the problem or for any other desirable material condition. That would be a consciousness of lack, and deepening it through meditation would only make everything worse. Rather, one asks—as the only meaningful request—to receive the truth from within. For the spiritual truth deep within the human being is the key to solving precisely this problem and, indeed, all problems—which exist solely to help us rediscover the truth of life. However, especially in urgent matters, it is appropriate to ask for guidance: “What should I do?” or, even better: “What is Your Will?”
It would often be counterproductive to ask questions such as “Who was that?” That would mean wanting to selfishly exploit the Inner God. He would then serve, so to speak, as a spiritual telescope for the ego. However, it is perfectly fine and, above all, successful to find out how one should behave or whether one should proceed in one way or another. A typical example: I have a choice between three cars when buying a vehicle and cannot decide because the multitude of individual factors and the relative importance of the various pros and cons are not entirely clear to me. Assuming a stable spiritual dialogue proven by extensive experience, I tap in and receive the correct answer—one that is also successful in the long run— which is, of course, not possible on an earthly level.
Without an act of fundamental forgiveness, we would need neither to continue the meditation nor to begin it in the first place. As long as hatred and resentment still smolder within, the necessary prerequisite for deep spiritual understanding is not yet present. One must realize that it is not the person in question who has harmed us, but the self-preservation program within them. This allows one to develop the necessary distance and understanding of why people “do not know what they are doing.” But since forgiveness is, after all, more a result than a prerequisite of meditation, we must inevitably live with such a contradiction for a time.
As long as one has not yet established a dialogue or developed an unmistakable gut feeling, one must inevitably act according to reason, suppressing the self-centered aspect and taking the common good into account as best as possible. For even when the sun shines for me, it is not intended solely for me. After all, the sun does not shine only within the narrow confines of my garden and does not stop at the garden fence. Whatever well-being then arises is nothing other than a foundation for the spread of the sunshine to other people. There are many examples of this in everyday life, incidentally, even when they have no spiritual background: It happens time and again that individuals or couples who have suffered a great misfortune have, driven by this impulse, founded initiatives to exchange experiences and make them available to others.
In the binary mode of communication with the inner voice, the difficulty lies in being able to explore only the possibilities conceivable to the limited mind and to query them with a yes or no. The limitation is obvious, because these are only the paths conceivable to the mind, even though some intuitive solutions go beyond these limits of imagination and are nevertheless often strikingly simple. It is always about reuniting with the source of life, which thereby also connects us to one another. Incidentally, this also leads all those who belong to our state of consciousness to us.
When you want to reach someone by phone, you dial their number. But the dialing mechanism does not connect us directly to the person we are speaking with. That is not possible, because then there would have to be as many cable ends plugged into the wall behind the telephone jack as there are subscribers worldwide. Rather, the call (via group selectors as intermediate stations) goes to thecentral office; which connects the caller to the recipient via intermediate switches. The central office is a higher level from which communication—and thus “problem-solving”—takes place. It brings about the attainment of the goal. In a spiritually successful life, one does not go from A to B, but from A to C (as in Central). This means that, for example, in the case of financial hardship or unemployment, one takes a step back from goal B (job) and, through meditation, distance oneself from the problem, handing the matter over to the Self—as C—and waiting for guidance.
One goes inward, therefore, not to find the mistake, but the truth. It follows that the subsequent external healing process came about through a change in consciousness and not through some god somewhere up there. One heals the consciousness, and this heals the deficiency (see Chapter 10). One does not focus on solving the problem, but on the problem-solver. For example, if one is without a partner and feels a longing for a relationship, one selflessly entrusts the realization of the inner guidance to meditation and does not first turn to a dating service. Included in this attitude of “Thy will be done” is also the acceptance that the soul may not currently have a partnership in mind. One avoids imagining a situation of lack, but instead fills one’s consciousness with one’s own divine identity and a fitting wisdom, such as the examples above: “I have come that they may have life and have it in abundance” or “Even when I am at a loss, I am an expression of a power that can handle this.” Then one begins to wait trustingly for the go-ahead in meditation and, later, for signs, information, constellations, or events that reveal or bring the solution. This can take time. A farmer cannot expect the grain he sowed in March to yield a harvest as early as April. In this way, one can achieve the balance between one’s own longing and selflessness. An ideal-typical example is the behavior of the Nazarene in the Garden of Gethsemane. There, he expresses to the “Father within me” his desire (!) that the cup of arrest and execution might pass from him, yet at the same time submits to his inner guidance. Aware of his spiritual identity, he aligns himself with the overarching plan. There are countless problems in our lives, both great and very small, but for all whose solution we truly need, there is an answer from within.
While the prayer of the everyday person aims at the fulfillment of material desires—even in the ritual recitation of prayer formulas such as the Lord’s Prayer—the main goal of inward-focused meditation is spiritual dialogue, communion with inner guidance. For it goes before us and levels all obstacles (Isa. 45:2)—including material ones—and leads to the ultimate destiny of every human being.
It is the return to the “Father’s house,” as described in the Parable of the Prodigal Son. Its prerequisite is regular—that is, not merely occasional—meditation. It is nourishment for the soul just as eating several times a day is for the body. In addition to self-programming, it involves the quantitative aspect of recharging: Since a single charge of spiritual energy is not sufficient for an entire day —just as one does not eat only once a day—one needs to engage in meditative contemplation 3–4 times daily to avoid succumbing to the distractions of the external world in the long run. The material human cannot do without food and drink; the spiritual human cannot do without meditation. Without it, spiritual perception is almost impossible, because without it the mind cannot be set aside and mental calm cannot be attained.
As meditative experience increases, first, the individual mode changes repeatedly, and second, the meditative phases expand to the extent that short-term meditative elements are added: before starting a drive, before entering a room, before the first bite of a meal, after being caught speeding, before a phone call or business meeting, before turning on the radio or computer, etc. This is extended further and further, so that not a quarter of an hour passes without an act of bringing the inner sun to mind, even without these external triggers. Ultimately, one can reach a state of consciousness characterized quantitatively by perhaps as much as 50% of one’s time spent in the “Kingdom of God”: This would then be a kind of **Throne Room Consciousness. Some “Chosen Ones” (a term from the movie “The Matrix”) achieve more. The forefather of Christianity, Paul, describes this stage as praying “without ceasing.” To practice this, it can be helpful to use the timer function on your cell phone and set it to remind you of these brief meditations at regular intervals. So much for the quantitative aspect.
Qualitatively, the path to mental emptiness is anything but easy, because negative thoughts of worry, retribution, etc.—that is, the contents—attempt to maintain the aspirant’s attachment to the non-spiritual, coarse physical environment.
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* *For example, if a medieval architect receives a commission from the king to expand the throne room and carries out his work on-site in that very hall, then even while highly focused on the designs, he will always be aware in the back of his mind of the location where he is situated. This dual or background awareness, which plays a major role in seeing through, shall be called “throne room awareness.”
The modern term for this is mindfulness, not concentration.
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The most important tool of the training is the observation of thoughts. It means not taking in their content, but their category. This refers to becoming aware that a thought cluster—for example, classified as “worry”—has just attempted to intrude. One ignores the content, does not let it penetrate, and immediately turns to the self-knowledge of the inner God: Gnothi se auton! The Hindus and Jains would say: OM!
In everyday life, there is a vast number of questions and thus of decisions regarding how we should proceed. This can concern interactions with partners, children, etc., finding suitable remedies or healers, or how to proceed in business or general professional matters. The many decisions that must be made every day are often associated with serious consequences and do not merely pertain to the purchase of, say, a used car. It involves choosing a partner, career crossroads,
investments, personnel decisions—for a manufacturer’s managers, it may involve deciding whether to focus on hybrid cars, electric cars, or those with fuel cells—as well as career choices after school, financing, and so on. Overall, these are all problems where there is no ultimate authority, and which can have fatal consequences if the wrong decisions are made. This even applies to advice from the chief physician, whose 60:40 statistic for predicting surgical success is only a very limited aid in decision-making. Many people create a list of pros and cons to help them decide because they trust in analytical thinking. There is nothing wrong with this at first glance, but it does not resolve—and cannot resolve—the often difficult decisions. Ultimately, it all comes down to so-called gut decisions, always accompanied by the fear of having made the wrong choice and having to bear the responsibility. But such gut decisions have nothing to do with spiritually grounded reliability, because they occur unconsciously and are unfounded. Only spiritual dialogue brings certainty. However, this is no complete guarantee of success in one’s own sense, for the soul guides me under the primacy of the greater good, and that does not always have to correspond exactly to one’s own desires. For example, one can be extremely satisfied with one’s car and still receive an impulse to buy a newer one. The impulse can also come from external sources, e.g., through a total loss. Then one faces the problem of choice. When the subsequent question arises, “Which car?” inner guidance provides invaluable help in making a decision. Later, through one’s experiences with the new car—which one would never have bought without guidance—one can appreciate the wisdom of this guidance.
When it comes to guidance in material matters, it remains important not to want to use it as a tool, as an extended telescope for one’s own interests . The ego always wants to decide for itself and refuses to relinquish control. That is why spiritual contact always involves obedient (!) execution, which is nothing other than the realization of the principle “Thy will be done!”
A young office worker is dissatisfied with his job, which he finds too monotonous. He asks within himself whether he should accept his acquaintance’s offer to work with him as a sales representative. The answer is yes. When the career change proved to be a failure, however, he thereby gained a clearer understanding of his competencies and his role within the overall concept. He resumed his old job, but now with satisfaction and renewed motivation.
Spiritual return, formerly referred to as “enlightenment,” depends not only on regular meditation but also on the study of wisdom texts and their intuitive, active implementation. This means demonstrating the insights gained through action.
Phases of Meditation
(1) What constitutes modern meditation consists, roughly summarized, of three phases. For preparation—lying down or in the yoga posture with eyes closed—the following points are important: One goes into one’s “… little room, closes the door … and prays in secret and … does not chatter so much, because one thinks one will be heard if one uses many words.”
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* Shankara illustrates the rejection of the drumfire of thoughts with the image that the cobra’s venom cannot take effect if it does not enter the body.
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Then, through progressive muscle relaxation or similar techniques, one practices a state that leads to the loss of bodily awareness. This is the basis for the second step: the loss of mental and emotional awareness. Only when the earthly, material factors have been set aside is space created for the soul’s influence.
After overcoming physical and psychological sensations, one begins by attentively observing the stream of thoughts—those one did not invite and that storm in uninvited— attentively observe. As mentioned, one does not engage with the content, but merely takes note of the label, something like this: Look, here comes a thought of anger. The observation is thus not content-based—that is, perceiving fearful or aggressive thoughts as such—but rather we characterize the thought in question purely formally, statistically, so to speak: “Ah, a thought of fear.” This makes it more difficult for the thought to spread or repeat itself. For as long as thoughts can repeatedly intrude into meditation, it becomes too severely disrupted.
Successfully blocking them is a crucial prerequisite for meditation and thus for opening the channel of communication.
The best tool is to immediately switch from the horizontal, earthly plane of thought to the vertical, spiritual one. The first step here is to become aware of one’s own divine core. Helpful reference points include words from the wisdom teachings of religious founders, such as those of Jesus: “The Kingdom of God is within you!” (Luke 17:12)
Visual imagery also supports the penetration of thoughts of anger, fear, and aggression:
Bestdesigns. iStock 1094434540
These are not attempts to make the invisible visible, but rather one creates a helpful mental image of the spiritual part of one’s own identity, of one’s individual sonship of God.
– Paul: “The one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.” (1 John 4:4)
– Quran: “We created man and … are closer to him than his jugularartery.” (Sura 50:15)
– Hindu god Krishna: “Whoever boldly walks the path inward will soon reach the realm of
the Divine.” (Bhagavad Gita: V, 6). Or:
– “Whoever immerses themselves wholly in me and always knows me within themselves,
is closest to salvation.” (XII, 2)
In Greek mythology, meditation is symbolically expressed through the fifth labor of Heracles, who defeats the Nemean Lion—a negative, animalistic monster of thought (!)—by entering the lion’s cave, sealing both entrances (eyes) and strangling the beast there without weapons (!)—thus depriving it of the air it needs to breathe. Allowing thoughts of fear, lack, and anger to arise is the very foundation of one’s personal vale of tears. But if we move beyond observing the stream of thoughts into the vertical realm of silence, these attacks no longer have a foothold; they cannot take root and are therefore stifled.
Thus, the channel for the inner voice is cleared, for observation takes on the perspective of our soul. We shift the vantage point of our observation to our higher self.
“If you wish to hear the eternal Word
speaking within you,
you must first
completely rid yourself of restlessness.”
(Angelus Silesius: Cherubic Wanderer I, 85)
In this way, the desire to possess and the orientation toward the rules of the external world are overcome, and with them the source of evil. Until this works, there are various aids. We hold our breath from time to time. In that moment, the terror of thoughts is also halted. We do this until the shift toward our spiritual “I” functions more effectively. Furthermore, we can momentarily intimidate the flood of thoughts by asking: “Who dares to intrude next?” However, these little aids are intended only as temporary tools for getting started and lose their significance with increasing practice. Then we free ourselves from any hostility toward unwelcome contemporaries by seeing through to their spiritual core. The interaction of the two souls—in me and the opponent – is always harmonious. This is a powerful tool in any dispute. Without the accompanying constant forgiveness or at least the effort toward it, we need not continue at all—except in the early stages—as it would block access to the Divine.
Then we ask for enlightenment for the world, not for ourselves. This is an important point, for the sun shines on everyone. In this respect, those who pray in this way bear a certain responsibility for future events on the earthly plane. As always, our attention is not focused on ourselves, but on the greater good: In a dispute, for example, over child custody following a divorce, the focus is all too often solely on the realization of ego-centered interests, by hook or by crook. If each partner were to try to at least adopt the position of the family court judge, for whom the child’s welfare is the primary concern, much would be accomplished for peace and, at the same time, the dissolution of the ego program.
(2) The second phase consists of the contemplative part of meditation and is the primary focus of the entire process, another active part of contemplation. This phase consists of contemplating a spiritual truth (here primarily drawn from Christian wisdom), such as:
– “The Kingdom of God is within you.”
– “You would have no power unless it were given to you from above.” “
– “Seventy times seven times, forgive my brother who sins against me.”
At this point, the activity of the mind is already reduced; negative thought attacks play a lesser role; consciousness is largely filled with the statement of truth and its manifestation in our lives. Without the contemplation of such principles in every meditation, its effectiveness is significantly limited.
This phase of meditation also includes spiritual analysis—the examination of our decisions or behaviors from spiritual perspectives, regardless of whether we are considering future plans or evaluating crisis-ridden experiences, inappropriate reactions, etc., especially regarding reliance on the mind, which cannot be relied upon.
The essential characteristic of this contemplation is that one observes an object, a state, a situation, or a person without desire, without fear, and without good or bad. Then the contemplation is ego-less and freed from the good-evil thought pattern.
Suppose I have a member in my tennis club who, like me, plays poorly. When we play doubles together and he makes a particularly large number of technical errors, he shouts out his frustration but does not take it personally; only to then, when I make mistakes, shower me with a barrage of accusations. Clearly, he is projecting his own shortcomings onto the nearest scapegoat. If I were now, as people usually do, to defend myself or —worst-case scenario and yet common—respond with a counterattack pointing out his abysmal play, escalation and a lasting poisoning of the atmosphere throughout the entire team would be inevitable. If, on the other hand, I know—or realize in a moment’s meditation—that I am a bearer of the Son of God, that the interaction of our two souls is always and fundamentally harmonious, and that evil is powerless, I no longer need to strike back outwardly at all (although this may eventually be necessary with particularly stubborn individuals). Internally, I counter the instinct-driven impulses and thoughts that demand my resistance with the appropriate truth, such as “He cannot know what he is doing.” Then, due to the dominance of the soul’s power, my ego no longer has the energy to act on my instincts for self-preservation and dominance. I recognize the Son of God with his omnipotence within me and also within him, and I let the insults bounce off me with a certain degree of calm. Then a miracle happens. He backs down and becomes subdued, at least for the time being. During the next training sessions, he becomes increasingly accommodating—albeit with occasional flares of ego. Through my recognition of my (and his) spirit soul, his has a much easier time breaking through his ego.
Only by seeing through things do we reach the purely good, under the shelter of the Most High, to the perspective of the spiritual soul. If we were to bring evil into our meditation and also perceive it as evil, instead of understanding it as a wake-up call to repentance, evil becomes real. But if I first examine my bankruptcy, my failed marriage, my serious illness, my adversary, etc., in a neutral way, and mentally go through all aspects in connection with the corresponding spiritual principles, then the evil will fade away.
Here, “spiritual principle” means that my competitor, my ex, my enemy, etc., are in reality in (spiritual) unity with me—like the fingers of a hand through the shared bloodstream.
That is why, in meditation, I imagine myself as endowed with an aura that I radiate, and my enemies with one just like it. Then I begin to understand that true self-preservation is only possible if I am not only there for myself (which, however, 99% of all people believe and follow), but first and foremost for all other people. Then, and only then, is my own self-preservation secured. This is precisely what the so-called “Golden Rule.”
Then I have come to realize that there is nothing I need to worry about. Problems and reflections that involve distinctions between good and bad therefore have no place in meditation, not even “good” ones, for “good” is a category of the material human, and problem scenarios inherently contain evil and thus cannot be part of spiritual, truthful contemplation. For creation is “very good.” Especially in meditation, “demons” have the ability to become deepened consciousness faster than anything else and thereby conjure up disaster.
This is illustrated by the story of the sailor who, at the start of a meticulously planned sailing trip, suffers a severe capsizing accident, then wakes up in the hospital and asks the spiritual teacher why this could have happened to him, even though he had meditated extra long and intensely before setting out to protect himself from the manifold dangers (!?) in the strong currents near the coast!
This means that even when faced with pressing questions, we must under no circumstances frame the problems as negative. In this way, we detach ourselves from the object, from the surface, from the appearance. We look behind the scenes, grasping precisely the spiritual essence. In the case of an enemy, for example, we then see only their divine identity; in a crisis, its deeper meaning. We have thus neutralized the evil that shapes consciousness by avoiding judgments. The Tanakh would say: This is paradise. Even at this stage, with sufficient perseverance, intuition may kick in and provide us with insights we might never have come up with on our own. We can also ask which decision the soul recommends, and request guidance if we have not the slightest idea where the journey should lead—just as Odysseus allows himself to be advised and guided by the goddess Athena. In advanced meditation, we often receive clear answers immediately, though occasionally the answers take their time. They arrive at a more opportune moment (Kairos) or in a different form. The form of the answers varies greatly from person to person:
They may be visual impressions similar to dream images, but mainly a binary-coded confirmation through deep breathing, a feeling of liberation, or even words that one hears clearly and aloud, even though they are silent.
A clear indicator of the receipt and clarity of the information is present when typical accompanying sensations occur: the sound of silence grows louder, even booming; a tingling sensation arises in the palms of the hands, etc. The physical presence of the soul becomes palpable and must be so. The presence of the soul’s power must eventually become noticeable and perceptible; then we can be certain that the connection is there and that it is unfolding its power. “It is a ‘Here I am’ that you cannot hear, but can feel from head to toe.” (Rumi: The Matnavi II, 1193)
(3) The third phase is the one in which the streams of thought have come to a complete rest and in which the focus is on remaining in silence in oneness with the Son of God within. This is a stage that would be virtually unbearable for the material human being. Only then, however, does the “thinking of the soul” become truly effective. This central component of the interaction differs fundamentally from active contemplation. Conscious being without mental activity is a state that is dangerous for the ego within the human being. That is why the moment of silence, the pause, of stillness—above all, an interruption of thought—is terrifying and destructive for the ego, because during such intervals the soul’s knocking becomes more audible. If even in conversations every pause in speech quickly becomes awkward, an interruption of the stream of thought is truly dangerous. That is why there are people who fall into a state of sheer panic when attempting to create meditative silence.
The basic attitude upon entering this silent phase is not aimless, but one of listening, of attuning to impulses from within, which are initiated by the request “Speak! ”initiated.
Without this pre-attitude, one makes it significantly harder to sustain the thought-free phase. While listening, we wait for the soul’s response and prepare ourselves through our receptiveness for the coming dialogue with it. This is the realm without words and thoughts that Meister Eckhart refers to with the expression “ane bilde”. Actually entering into the dialogue means that, as in a physical conversation, we (limited) question-and-answer format with our inner guidance.
What has always been taking place—namely, the soul’s attempts to reach us through certain dreams, signs, and urgent sensations—was never understood as the soul seeking us, but was regularly distorted by the ego program within us (“Dreams are just dreams,” “borders on a miracle,” etc.). But:
“Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.”
This means that meditation is the key to experiencing the truth essential to life. But how can this word “from the mouth of God” be heard amidst the constant stream of words and thoughts? The incessant ramblings of uninvited thoughts are the ego’s primary means of preventing the soul from making itself known. Thus, the Gita also states clearly:
“Try again and again to bring back
the fluttering flock of thoughts,
bring them back again and again,
until they dispel the Self’s stillness.”
(VI, 26)
“Whoever thus unites with the Eternal,
frees himself from separate will,
will, full of joy, become aware
of the presence of the Inner God.”
(VI, 28)
The good news is that it is indeed possible to put a stop to the barrage of thoughts, even if this requires persistent practice. The common misunderstanding is typically expressed in the following statements: “I have to (!?) think about it all the time!” Or: “I think about it every day!” A misunderstanding with serious consequences.
The taming of the onslaught of thoughts is, at least for the West, a realization that—apart from the mystics—is not yet very old. The first translations of the wisdom of the East did not appear until the mid-19th century, and
they were not widely disseminated until a hundred years later. After long
and persistent practice, moments arise sporadically but with increasing frequency in which one feels the approach of the eternal Self.
In the passive phase, we therefore listen for the “quiet, gentle voice” and wait for it to become audible to us. For whoever asks must also make room for the answer. We thus make ourselves receptive to it.
In the example of the feeding of the 5,000, one can clearly see how Jesus demonstrates this: He listened, thus switching off the problem-solving mind, gave thanks (!), thus turning inward, and received (see Chapter 8).
This is precisely what the ego tries to prevent by any means necessary, for that would be its end.
“If the doors of perception(!) were cleansed,
everything would appear to man as it is, infinite.
For man has closed himself up …“
(William Blake: The Marriage of Heaven and Hell: A Memorable Fancy)
For successful meditation, listening is not the only crucial factor. Equally important is how we end this state of stillness: we wait for a soul impulse of release. This will likely not occur at first (not just for a few months), but eventually, if we have been persistent and tenacious enough.
“Whoever strives with effort, we can redeem.
And if love has even
descended upon him from above,
the blessed host will meet him
with a warm welcome.”
(Goethe, Faust II, Mountain Gorges, Chorus of Angels)
Then there will be some kind of sensation that signals to us that it is now time to stop contemplating, that the moment has come when the soul agrees and signals our exit.
Without waiting for this permission, the entire attempt to establish a direct “line” to the inner voice, to the “C” switchboard, is made more difficult. For permission means that the soul has already touched us. Only through this touch do we come under the “shadow of the Most High.” Only then can we say that the dialogue has begun.
This rough three-part structure changes in the course of spiritual progress. The spiritual seeker experiences that phases, forms, periods, and contents change individually as development unfolds.
Through such a dialogical approach to meditation, we are grafted back on as a “cut-off branch” that would otherwise wither. In this respect, meditation is the opposite of conventional prayer. It is not what comes from the person, but what flows toward them; it is the breakthrough of the gentle, quiet voice (1. Song of Songs 19:12–13) toward conscious interaction between the outer and inner self. In this sense, we do not find the soul, but it finds us. And we “knock,” make ourselves receptive to it, and begin to become its instrument.
One example is the “voice” that guided the eighteen-year-old (!) Joan of Arc on her path to the liberation of France, and of which Joan reports:
“It is almost always accompanied by a great brightness …
Two or three times a week, the voice told me that I, Joan, had to go to France…
The voice commanded me to lift the siege of Orléans. It told me to seek out Robert de Baudricourt—who was the captain of the city—so that he might give me men to come with me. I replied, I was a poor girl who knew nothing of riding or warfare. …
When I arrived in Vaucouleurs, I recognized Robert de Baudricourt, and yet I had never seen him before. I recognized him through the voice. It told me that it was him. …
I reached the king without hindrance. … When I entered the hall, I recognized him among all the others; my voice pointed him out to me. I told the king that I wanted to lead the war against the English. …
There is not a day that goes by when I do not hear the voice, and I need it. I have never asked for any reward other than the salvation of my soul.”
(Joan of Arc: Documents of Her Condemnation and Justification 1431, 1456. Cologne 1956, p. 43 ff.)
A skeptic might assume that Joan made all this up, since there is no one who could confirm such a thing. But inner spiritual processes have external material effects. Her successes in liberating France speak for themselves.
Joan’s communication, guided by her inner voice, is characterized by detailed language use. More often, however, it involves binary methods in which the inner voice responds only to questions designed to elicit a yes or no, and responds only with a yes. The yes response often manifests as a sudden deep inhalation.
The Pythia, the Oracle of Delphi, is said to have used a mixture of detailed spoken responses and binary code. Today, there are many people who, in their dialogue with the soul, have been assigned one or the other focus.
Johanna heard her “voice” only from above, whereas, for example, the mentally ill hear their destructive voices from “below.” A typical example is provided by John Lennon’s murderer, who stated on record: “A voice inside me said: Do it, do it!” In this respect, spiritual seekers generally must learn the art of “discerning spirits” (see Chapter 12 in the book), for Mephisto also interferes in spiritual contact.
What is striking about Johanna is that she makes no mention whatsoever of the Church as a source of spiritual guidance. It is always about direct contact and never about an intermediary authority. She had no need of it. This characterizes the supposed role of the Church more than enough.
“I do believe that the militant Church cannot err or fail. But I entrust and leave my words and deeds solely to God, who commanded me to do what I have done.”
(In: DIE ZEIT, No. 2, Jan. 5, 2012)
The same detachment, incidentally, can be found in the great spiritual novel of the Middle Ages, “Parzival” (Wolfram von Eschenbach), in which the hero, on his path to salvation, refrains from any connection to the church community. It was also Meister Eckhart who very clearly contested the church’s monopoly on mediating salvation.
The raging fury of Scottish Presbyterians toward the Quakers can be seen in the following outburst: “Cursed be all who say that everyone has a light sufficient to lead them to Christ”
(Paul Held: The Quaker George Fox. Ch. 1)
For religious organizations, the existence of this direct connection is a challenge, as it robs them of their privilege as the sole mediator between God and humanity. This is an existential threat to them.
That is why they do everything in their power to prevent the direct connection between God and humanity. Among other things, they absolutely refuse to allow direct confession to the soul; instead, they squeeze themselves in between and insist on using the clergy for this purpose.
That is why they immediately ostracize mystics such as Al-Hallaj, Jesus, Meister Eckhart, or Joan of Arc—a practice that, at least in principle, remains unchanged today. But since they no longer have access to the stake, they now replace ostracism with demarcation.
(But here, too, it would be superficial to to blame organizations or individuals. The evil has nothing to do directly with the individuals, who are merely conveyors of the general program of self-preservation. So it is not really the church representatives, but the ego program within them.)
Effective, because dialogical, meditation—free from material begging—can be recognized by the fact that life becomes more harmonious. The fruits of spiritual consciousness developing in this way are a clearly discernible increase in harmony in interpersonal relationships—which also affects children—as well as well-being and security in everyday life. It paves the way out of constant worry, aggression, and fear; it paves the way out of suffering.
“Then the Self has attained its goal.
Thus does yoga dissolve attachment to suffering.
Therefore, practice it with determination,
so that liberation may come to you as well.”
(Bhagavad Gita VI, 23)