What I’ve been poetically describing as the Great Mystery is described in some Hermetic circles as essential meaning. The experience of the Great Mystery is contingent upon one’s ability to perceive it, which in turn is dependent on one’s focus and clarity. Consider a telescope: A number of factors must be just right in order for it to observe, say, the Pleiades. It must be solidly grounded and aimed correctly. All of the optics and lenses in it must be correctly manufactured, clean, and positioned correctly. There must be no obstructions between the telescope and the sky. And the observer must know what he is doing.

In Hermetic terms, training on all levels must be undertaken in order to hone the kind of perceptual ability that leads to the experience of essential meaning. The difference, of course, is that the instrument is the Self; and in order for the Self to be clear and focused, many things must be developed: Willpower, discipline, concentration, emotional equilibrium, physical health, among others, are the prerequisites.

I think that my experiences of the Great Mystery and these vibrations are what might be termed indirect perception of essential meaning. I catch glimpses, but to me it is like listening to people speaking in a foreign language, through a wall. I can hear their tone of voice, and get impressions of what’s going on that way, but many specifics are lost.

Direct perception of essential meaning is a different beast. Here are some descriptions of it. Rawn Clark, on a Hermetic discussion forum, writes,

When you perceive the essential meaning of a thing, like a rock, apple or person, it’s a flood of all sorts of information. It’s not just what you think about it or feel about it, yet the information you perceive contains how you think and feel about it. In other words, you perceive the whole of the thing. You perceive its “purpose”, the imprint of everything it’s been through and its “personality”, all at once. It’s so much information, that your brain can’t comprehend it until you begin putting words/thoughts to it. But you don’t want to begin putting words/thoughts to it too soon as this can interfere with direct perception. Instead, you want to savor it for a bit first.

And this:

Essential meaning is a holistic thing that encompasses all the factors of a thing’s being, not just one specific factor. The essential meaning of [a random] King Kong figurine for example, arises from the intention of the original designer, the cultural history of the image, the materials it was made from, the workers in the factory who actually made it, its final form, etc.

In this excerpt, he discusses how psychic abilities are basically contiguous with the perception of essential meaning:

Psychometry is rooted in the perception of an object’s essential meaning, mostly at the astral level which is readily influenced by the object’s environment. Essential meaning in a physical object also manifests astrally and mentally; therefore, the perception of a physical object’s essential meaning will have those components to it as part of the perceptual gestalt. With practice, one can learn to focus in on one particular layer of the essential meaning’s multi-layered expression.

Another Hermetic practitioner writes,

When I first experienced the direct perception of essential meaning, as I described previously, it was like I was seeing “infinity within a blade of grass, and eternity in every hour” to put it poetically. Yet once I returned to normal waking consciousness, it all faded away into something that I could only half remember. In subsequent attempts to achieve the direct perception of essential meaning I had problems attaining such a state of mind, though when I did it was only for fleeting moments through whcih I have eventually been starting to remember more and more of the perceptions of essential meaning.

What these descriptions tell me is that there is much, much more to learn. Even the descriptions in the article I quoted in the previous post only hint at the possibilities.

That said, I feel that all of this is not the point.

As I mused not long ago, what really is the point of opening doorways of perception into a dangerous world? Does that not simply invite threat and invasion? And I’ve been realizing that it does, but only because the integrity of my self was not secured. In other words, one of the prerequisites for this type of work — emotional equilibrium — was not established.

But now I’m in a dilemma, because it is also not working to forcibly ignore what is right in front of my face. Indeed, negative vibrations are part of what’s exacerbating my sense of emotional imbalance. They even feel violent — sometimes, even such things as a friendly but insensitive presence can feel that way.

With this kind of barely-developed sensitivity, I sometimes feel like I’m half-sighted in a world of blind people. I can vaguely see things and respond to them, but not well enough to truly function with confidence in an independent way. Still, bright lights pain my eyes and darkness makes me stumble a bit. But all of this is nonsensical to nearly everyone around me, for whom the realm of vision is nonexistent.

But I think I have no choice, not if I want to truly live. Experiencing this energy and this meaning is my birthright. Trying to move in the opposite direction, to pretend that I’m not sensitive, only causes me trauma, as my body feels the world bombarding it anyway. I need to learn how to control and protect myself while developing my perceptions in an intelligent way.

Meditation seems to be a grounding point for this type of work. To date, though, all of my meditations have had either an internal focus or an external focus. That is, I am focused either on something within myself, like my body or breathing or thoughts or even emptiness; or I’m focused on something outside myself, like my senses. I haven’t done the latter in quite some time, but sensing these vibrations begs for it.

The problem I had when I last did outward-oriented meditation — in the Kamana naturalist training program, and at Teaching Drum — was that it tended to leave out discomfort, cravings, feelings. So I often ended feeling vaguely like I had pushed myself into suffering. So when I finally quit those activities, it was with some relief.

No one said discipline was easy, but as with exercise, making it too uncomfortable can be counterproductive. So I’m thinking that what I need to do is to do a free-form kind of mindfulness that includes all the senses, focusing on what’s out there as well as what’s in my body, as well as my thoughts and feelings.

It’s interesting that I have to partake in training which at this point seems necessary to me but which probably looks crazy or nonsensical to most other people. For my part, it boggles my mind the things people miss (although I’m sure more advanced people would say the same of me). But mostly, I just feel that there are so many harsh vibrations even just in my normal, peaceable little zone of comfort, and in a sense I have to learn a mental-emotional equivalent of a martial art to begin to deal with them. The tried-and-not-so-true methods of fight, flight, or freeze really constrict my quality of life. It’s time for more options.