Peace, one and all…

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In his sixth counsel on discernment, Meister Eckhart discusses detachment of the soul.

Counsel 6: Of detachment and of the possession of God

I was asked: ‘Since some people keep themselves much apart from others, and most all like to be alone, and since it is this and in being in church that they find peace, would that be the best thing to do?’  Then I said: ‘No! and see why not!’  If all is well with a man, then truly, wherever he may be, whomever he may be with, it is well with him.  But if things are not right with him, then everywhere and with everybody it is all wrong with him.  If it is well with him, truly he has God, he has him everywhere, in the street and in company with everyone, just as much as in church or in solitary places or in his cell.  But if a man really has God, and has only God, then no one can hinder him.

Why?

Because he has only God, and his intention is toward God alone, and all things become for him nothing God.  That man carries God in his every work and in every place, and it is God alone who performs all the man’s works; for whoever causes the work, to him it belongs more properly and truly than it does to the one who performs it.  Then let our intention be purely and only for God, and then truly he must perform all our works, and no person, no crowds, no places can hinder him in all his works.  In the same way, no one can hinder this man, for he intends and seeks and takes delight in nothing but God, for God has become one with man in all his intention.  And so, just as no multiplicity can disturb God, nothing can disturb or fragment this man, for he is one in that One where all multiplicity is one and is one unmultiplicity.

A man should accept God in all things, and should accustom himself to having God present always in his disposition and his intention and his love.  Take heed how you can have God as the object of your thoughts whether you are in church or in your cell.  Preserve and carry with you that same disposition when you are in crowds and in uproar and in unlikeness.  And, as I have said before, when one speaks of likeness, one does not mean that we should pay like to all works or all places or all people. That would be quite wrong, because praying is a better work than spinning, and church is a better place than the street.  But you ought in your works to have a like disposition and a like confidence and a like love for your God and a like seriousness.  Believe me, if you were constant in this way, no one could come between you and the God who is present to you.

But a man in whom truly God is not but who must grasp God in this thing or in that thing from outside, and who seeks God in unlike ways, be it in works or people or places, such a man does not possess God.  And it may easily be that something hinders such a man for he does not possess God, and he does not seek him alone, nor does he love and intende Him alone; and therefore it is not only bad company that hinders him.  Good company can also hinder him – not just the street, but the church too, not only evil words and deeds, but good words and good deeds as well, for the hindrance is in him, because in him God has not become all things.  Were that so, everything would be right and good for him, in every place and among all people, because he has God, and no one can take God away from him or hinder him in his work.

On what does this true possession of God depend, so that we may truly have Him?

This true possession of God depends on the disposition, and on an inward directing of the reason and intention toward God, not on a constant contemplation in an unchanging manner, for it would be impossible to nature to preserve such an intention, and very labourious, and not the best thing either.  A man ought not to have a God who is just a product of his thought, nor should he be satisfied with that, because if the thought vanished, God too would vanish.  But one ought to have a God who is present, a God who is far above the notions of men and of all created things.  That God does not vanish, if a man does not willfully turn away from Him.

The man who has God essentially present to him grasps God divinely, and to him God shines in all things; for everything tastes to him of God, and God forms himself for the man out of all things.  God always shines out in him, in him there is a detachment and a turning away, and a forming of his God whom he loves and who is present to him.  It is like a man consumed with a real and burning thirst, who may well not drink and may turn his mind to other things.  But whatever he may do, in whatever company he may be, whatever he may be intending or thinking or working at, still the idea of drinking does not leave him, so long as he is thirsty.  The more his thirst grows, the more the idea of drinking grows and intrudes and possesses him and will not leave him.  Or if a man loves something ardently and with all his heart, so that nothing else has savour for him or touches his heart but that, and that and nothing but that is his whole object: Truly, wherever he is, whomever he is with, whatever he may undertake, whatever he does, what he so loves never passes from his mind, and he finds the image of what he loves in everything, and it is the more present to him the more his love grows and grows.  He does not seek rest, because no unrest hinders him.

Such a man finds far greater merit with God because he grasps everything as divine and as greater than things in themselves are.  Truly, to this belong zeal and love and a clear apprehension of his own inwardness, and a lively, true, prudent and real knowledge of what his disposition is concerned with amid thigns and persons.  A man cannot learn this by running away, by shunning things and shutting himself up in an external solitude; but he must practice a solitude of the spirit, wherever or with whomever he is.  He must learn to break through things and to grasp God in them and to form him in himself powerfully in an essential manner.  This is like someone who wants to learn to write.  If he is to acquire the art, he must certainly practice it hard and long, however disagreeable and difficult this may be for him and however impossible it may seem.  If he will practice it industriously and assiduously, he learns it and masters the art.  To begin with, he must indeed memorise each single letter and get it firmly into his mind.  Then, when he has the art, he will not need to think about and remember the letters’ appearance; he can write effortlessly and easily – and it will be the same if he wants to play the fiddle or to learn any other skill.  It will always be enough for him to make up his mind to do the hard work the art demands; and even if he is not thinking about it all the time, still, whatever he may be thinking of when he does perform it, this be from the art he has learned.

So a man must be penetrated with the divine presence, and be shaped through and through with the shape of the God he loves, and be present in Him, so that God’s presence may shine out of him without any effort.  What is more, in all things let him acquire nakedness, and let him always remain free of things.  But at the beginning there must be attentiveness and a careful formation within himself, like a schoolboy setting himself to learn

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