Om, the vibration of eternity: meditating into om, becoming om, being om
excerpted from OM, baby! a pilgrimage to the eternal self, by Jack Haas
I abandoned almost all societal ties, and spent my days painting, playing music, and meditating in the expansive radiations of the om.
In the beginning was the sound, and the sound was om. It is the sound of contemplation, the sound of unity, the sound of home. And the sound became manifest, and dwelt amongst me, and became me.
I realized that the music of life, the om, is always playing. The only choice is whether to move and dance to it, or to not dance. But actually there is not choice, there is merely an ultimatum- dance or die.
To dance while not dancing is to invoke the music. To be while not-being is to become the om.
In many hidden ways we are always seeking the great radiance of the om, which is our true nature, whether we know it or not. To be inside the om is to unite with the undivided. To be outside of the om is to be separated from the all, which is to be crazy.
The om is the inner light which radiates the drama. The om is where creation and destruction are the same eternal now pulsating event. Om is eternally new, eternally now, and is always happening. Om is thus beyond any experience, but is also every experience.
To sit still and empty for lengthy durations, is to become a motionless transformer of the pulsating now, through which the separate threads of form and energy are re-woven, transmuting the dull lead of mundane existence into the psychedelic throb of the living gold, which is One, the om.
To be the om is to create God out of the elements, which is to know and to be and to contain all aspects of the now singular God. To know no other, but only the dynamic qualities of the Self which is one. To know that Self. To be that Self. To know and to be.
In the nothing self which is Self, there the living om generates its own occurrence as all that exists, and does not exist. All duality ends in the ever-now-beginning orgiastic center where creation and destruction are merely an instantaneous newness called the one-flowing change, beyond the division of life and death.
In that om space we are glorified in the eternal unmoving stream.
Beyond faith and fear lives the ever-conscious dream-self, forever smiling behind all that is. She within he. He within she. Creation is this fertile union of wholeness; to know and to be; the I and the you, which are one; the not-something which is, and the somethingness which is not. Spirit and flesh. The bride and the bridegroom. Love.
To know and to be one. No me, and no other. One.
In the living om beyond division I am stillness and I am change, and there is no difference. I am the space which upholds the form, and I am the form as well. I am home, and I am the home. I am eternity.
I am the all because the all is undivided. I am the all because there is nothing but the all, and that all is om.
In the om I am the primordial and the present. I am the essence and the shape. I am in and of the om which is the transparent exaltation of the glory expressing itself. I am that glory om which is beyond time and thought, beyond self and other, beyond name and knowing.
I am sitting in the om but there is no sitter nor sitting, only the om radiating the original vibration of the self prior to its dance into selves. I am the self dancing into self, the om making om of the world, the world returning to om, the fecund mayhem copulating without abortion through the intrepid eructation of the sound that is light that is being.
It is the om that is I, the om that is am, the om that begins and remains after all that is expressed dissipates away from its origin and is swallowed again and excreted as om.
In the void that is no void, the sound that is our silence, the eternity that is our now, the life that is our being, we re-sound through the echo of the om which does not begin nor end but is the archetypical substratum of the harmony within.
At the quintessence of all thought and action, behind the struggles and perils of all purpose and hope, beyond the tears and the folly, the sorrow and the joy, the coming and going, the inner and the outer, remains the never ending song that births all fragments into the cosmic muck to sink and grow and lift and strive towards what is never far but always beyond every effort to arrive. For to arrive at the om is to stop. To stop is to end. To end is to be still. To be still is to enter the void of creation.
In the silence of that living void exists the resounding om which begets the universe. And we are that. Om, baby!
by Jack Haas