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   The universal mourning and lamentations of death imagined on our first way are now all supplications and orisons, cries of glorification. Listen to the murmuring of the air, the twittering of chicks, the pattering of the rain, the plashing of the seas, the crashing of thunder, the crackling of stones; all are meaningful refrains. The humming of the air, the intoning of the thunder, the strains of the waves are all recitations of Grandeur. The chanting of the rains, the warbling of birds are all glorifications of Mercy, allusions to reality. The sounds of things are all sounds of existence: "I too exist," they say. The silent universe suddenly finds voice: "Don't suppose us to be lifeless, O chattering man!" A tasty morsel or droplet of rain; the birds break into song. With their different voices, their tiny songs, they applaud mercy, alight on bounties, proclaiming their thanks. Implicitly they say: "Beings of the universe, my brothers! How fine are our circumstances; We are tenderly nourished, we are happy at our lot." With beaks upstretched they scatter their songs on the air. In its entirety the universe is a lofty orchestra; through the light of belief its recitations, its glorifications, are heard. For its wisdom rejects the existence of chance, its order repulses it; in unison they banish doubt. Fellow-traveller! We are leaving now this world of similitudes, stepping down from imagination and fancy. We shall alight in the arena of reason, take stock, and close down those ways. Our first way, full of pain, that of "those who have received Your anger" and "those who have gone astray," inflicts suffering on the innermost conscience, and severe pain. Consciousness showed this; we became the reverse of conscious. We have to be saved from it, we need to be, so the pain can be pacified, or numbed, we can't endure it otherwise; no one heeds the cries for help. Guidance is healing, but fancies block out the feelings. This requires solace, it requires feigned unmindfulness, it requires occupation, it requires entertainment. Enchanting desires. Then it can deceive the conscience and put the spirit to sleep so they feel no pain. Otherwise that grievous suffering scorches the conscience; the pain is unendurable, the despair cannot be borne. This means, however far one deviates from the Straight Path, to that extent one is affected in that way, causing the conscience to cry out. Within every pleasure is a pain, a taint. That means glittering civilization, which is a mixture of fancy, lust, amusement, and licentiousness, is a deceptive panacea for the ghastly distress arising from misguidance, a poisonous narcotic Double click for meaning of the world. | |||
