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The Leaf on the Tree.

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  • dick.richardson@rocketmail.com
    The Leaf on the Tree. (Original date of writing this is now forgotten in the mists of time) Given that science believes, and teaches their belief to the young
    Message 1 of 3 , Nov 30, 2010
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      The Leaf on the Tree.



      (Original date of writing this is now forgotten in the mists of time)



      Given that science believes, and teaches their belief to the young as
      facts, that we are an accidental epiphenomenon of an unexpected outcrop
      of creation; and given that the spiritually inclined do not know quite
      what to believe, then I offer the following, and for both aspects of the
      community to give some thought to; if they wish to think on more.

      To rip something down without putting anything in its place, leaves a
      vacuum. But to merely fill a vacuum with yet another unsubstantiated
      story would be no better, indeed even worse than the vacuum itself. For
      at least in a vacuum of knowledge and understanding one would thence
      seek for a truth until found, and irrespective of what that truth turned
      out to be. But where does one look for truth? And to where does one look
      for the truth of this or that thing? Well, that which I offer, and only
      in symbolic form here, is proved to us to be true by life itself. So I
      offer here a mere analogy, and one which both science and many religions
      like to use themselves – the tree of life.

      Imagine then that you were a leaf on a tree. Observation initially
      suggests that you grew on the branch: an end product of a long series of
      mysterious forces which results in you, the leaf, perilously attached by
      a thread to the tree of life for your short term sustenance for
      existence thereon. One day the wind will blow and your connection to
      the tree of life will end; and you will revert back to the oblivion from
      whence you came. You, the conscious leaf, can see many other such
      leaves on that tree, and see also the body of the tree itself. But
      where is it all going to: what is it all for; is there any point or
      meaning to the tree and all the little leafs on it? The leafs come, and
      the leafs fall and go, to rot on the ground. Indeed, why does even the
      tree of creation exist? Is it simply to bring forth little bits of
      foliage that make a colourful show for a short while and then pass into
      the void of nothing? Thus it is that the leaf sits firmly attached to
      the tree for a season and simply blows around in the random actions of
      the wind; and sometimes wondering as to why it has to be made conscious
      to fulfil this silly cosmological function at all.

      But one day something very strange and different happens. A different
      kind of wind blows; and the little leaf is very disorientated for a
      while. For instead of the leaf looking outward its perception is turned
      inward. It sees not the tree and all the other foliage, nor the sky nor
      anything of the outer world; but only that of an inner well of blackness
      and void. But vision is suddenly restored, taken over by some other
      eye, an eye unknown to the leaf hitherto, and one which begins to move
      inward and downward through `nothing'. Down and down, onward
      and onward down into an abyss of blackness, but which is interspersed
      with some visions along the way, light and colours in visions not
      understood by the leaf at that time.

      That which the leaf `was' travels into the leaf, down into the
      branch of the tree; down the inside of the trunk of the tree, down, down
      through the roots of the tree itself – and thence beyond the tree
      and into the ground itself; the very ground from which the tree itself
      grew.

      And the leaf knew that it was home; the realm from whence it came and
      has its origin and eternal existence. And the leaf realised that it was
      not a leaf at all, but rather the very sap which gives it existence; and
      which pays no resemblance to the leaf at all; for the leaf was always
      nothing more than a dead thing, a vehicle, a shell for the sap to view
      the finished product of the tree itself.

      So too is it with consciousness. Consciousness is not a man or a woman,
      or an animal or bird, it is a primordial cosmic energy, and the very
      first emanation from the point of no duration or extension; time cannot
      whither it nor custom stale its delight. Before the tree ever was, the
      sap existed; before time ever emanated into existence, the mind was.
      That which they call spirit, is consciousness. That which they call the
      soul is the tree trunk, the universe of time and space. That which they
      call the personality is but a seasonal outcrop of the sap of eternal
      life.

      And when the sap returned back up through the tree and back into the
      leaf from whence it had been, then it smiled at its neighbouring
      colleagues who were oh so worried about being blown off the tree of
      time…. "Not to worry, for you are not from this universe at all;
      know thy self; for you are the first thing ever brought forth from no
      created thing, and long before the tree ever existed". And the sap
      of the leaf also knew as to why it existed, for it had been home and
      remembered what it was for and from whence it came and why. But all the
      other little bits of foliage creased themselves laughing – until
      just prior to their leaf being blown off the tree and the sap within it
      had left, and had begun its journey back down through the vortex of the
      tree of creation, and on its way back home, from whence it came beyond
      the mists and vortices of time and change. Only that which is made in
      eternity can return to eternity, and all things return to from whence
      they came in due course. As it is with matter then so too is it with
      Consciousness. Not a theory, but an experience. It happens.

      A great Miracle is Man – the meeting ground of inner and outer
      dimensions.

      Dick Richardson.






      [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
    • Dick.
      The Leaf on the Tree. (Original date of writing this is now forgotten in the mists of time) Given that science believes, and teaches their belief to the young
      Message 2 of 3 , Feb 3, 2013
      • 0 Attachment
        The Leaf on the Tree.



        (Original date of writing this is now forgotten in the mists of time)



        Given that science believes, and teaches their belief to the young as
        facts, that we are an accidental epiphenomenon of an unexpected outcrop
        of creation; and given that the spiritually inclined do not know quite
        what to believe, then I offer the following, and for both aspects of the
        community to give some thought to; if they wish to think on more.

        To rip something down without putting anything in its place, leaves a
        vacuum. But to merely fill a vacuum with yet another unsubstantiated
        story would be no better, indeed even worse than the vacuum itself. For
        at least in a vacuum of knowledge and understanding one would thence
        seek for a truth until found, and irrespective of what that truth turned
        out to be. But where does one look for truth? And to where does one look
        for the truth of this or that thing? Well, that which I offer, and only
        in symbolic form here, is proved to us to be true by life itself. So I
        offer here a mere analogy, and one which both science and many religions
        like to use themselves – the tree of life.

        Imagine then that you were a leaf on a tree. Observation initially
        suggests that you grew on the branch: an end product of a long series of
        mysterious forces which results in you, the leaf, perilously attached by
        a thread to the tree of life for your short term sustenance for
        existence thereon. One day the wind will blow and your connection to
        the tree of life will end; and you will revert back to the oblivion from
        whence you came. You, the conscious leaf, can see many other such
        leaves on that tree, and see also the body of the tree itself. But
        where is it all going to: what is it all for; is there any point or
        meaning to the tree and all the little leafs on it? The leafs come, and
        the leafs fall and go, to rot on the ground. Indeed, why does even the
        tree of creation exist? Is it simply to bring forth little bits of
        foliage that make a colourful show for a short while and then pass into
        the void of nothing? Thus it is that the leaf sits firmly attached to
        the tree for a season and simply blows around in the random actions of
        the wind; and sometimes wondering as to why it has to be made conscious
        to fulfil this silly cosmological function at all.

        But one day something very strange and different happens. A different
        kind of wind blows; and the little leaf is very disorientated for a
        while. For instead of the leaf looking outward its perception is turned
        inward. It sees not the tree and all the other foliage, nor the sky nor
        anything of the outer world; but only that of an inner well of blackness
        and void. But vision is suddenly restored, taken over by some other
        eye, an eye unknown to the leaf hitherto, and one which begins to move
        inward and downward through `nothing'. Down and down, onward
        and onward down into an abyss of blackness, but which is interspersed
        with some visions along the way, light and colours in visions not
        understood by the leaf at that time.

        That which the leaf `was' travels into the leaf, down into the
        branch of the tree; down the inside of the trunk of the tree, down, down
        through the roots of the tree itself – and thence beyond the tree
        and into the ground itself; the very ground from which the tree itself
        grew.

        And the leaf knew that it was home; the realm from whence it came and
        has its origin and eternal existence. And the leaf realised that it was
        not a leaf at all, but rather the very sap which gives it existence; and
        which pays no resemblance to the leaf at all; for the leaf was always
        nothing more than a dead thing, a vehicle, a shell for the sap to view
        the finished product of the tree itself.

        So too is it with consciousness. Consciousness is not a man or a woman,
        or an animal or bird, it is a primordial cosmic energy, and the very
        first emanation from the point of no duration or extension; time cannot
        whither it nor custom stale its delight. Before the tree ever was, the
        sap existed; before time ever emanated into existence, the mind was.
        That which they call spirit, is consciousness. That which they call the
        soul is the tree trunk, the universe of time and space. That which they
        call the personality is but a seasonal outcrop of the sap of eternal
        life.

        And when the sap returned back up through the tree and back into the
        leaf from whence it had been, then it smiled at its neighbouring
        colleagues who were oh so worried about being blown off the tree of
        time…. "Not to worry, for you are not from this universe at all;
        know thy self; for you are the first thing ever brought forth from no
        created thing, and long before the tree ever existed". And the sap
        of the leaf also knew as to why it existed, for it had been home and
        remembered what it was for and from whence it came and why. But all the
        other little bits of foliage creased themselves laughing – until
        just prior to their leaf being blown off the tree and the sap within it
        had left, and had begun its journey back down through the vortex of the
        tree of creation, and on its way back home, from whence it came beyond
        the mists and vortices of time and change. Only that which is made in
        eternity can return to eternity, and all things return to from whence
        they came in due course. As it is with matter then so too is it with
        Consciousness. Not a theory, but an experience. It happens.

        A great Miracle is Man – the meeting ground of inner and outer
        dimensions.

        Dick Richardson.









        [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
      • eduardathome
        [But where does one look for truth?] The leaf will not find the truth by looking inwards. The truth and thus the objective of it all is in the forest. And
        Message 3 of 3 , Feb 4, 2013
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          [But where does one look for truth?]

          The leaf will not find the truth by looking inwards. The truth and thus the objective of it all is in the forest. And from there the biosphere and the universe itself. But for the immediate needs of the leaf it is the forest. If the leaf looks inwards to the tree, it isn't much more than looking inwards to itself. The obvious problem ... which is the same for humans ... is that the "forest" cannot be seen. So the inward looking leaf will come up with some fantasy of the tree, much like humans have invented religious fantasy. Read the Bible and it will become quite apparent that the Bible is written on the basis of a flat earth. The dimension of this world is as far as you can see the horizon. Which is the reason why the gospels say that Devil could tempt Jesus by taking him up on a tall mountain and showing him all the countries of the "world". The gospels of the New Testament have not moved much away from Genesis.

          eduard

          -----Original Message-----
          From: Dick.
          Sent: Sunday, February 03, 2013 12:57 PM
          To: existlist@yahoogroups.com
          Subject: [existlist] The Leaf on the Tree.


          The Leaf on the Tree.



          (Original date of writing this is now forgotten in the mists of time)



          Given that science believes, and teaches their belief to the young as
          facts, that we are an accidental epiphenomenon of an unexpected outcrop
          of creation; and given that the spiritually inclined do not know quite
          what to believe, then I offer the following, and for both aspects of the
          community to give some thought to; if they wish to think on more.

          To rip something down without putting anything in its place, leaves a
          vacuum. But to merely fill a vacuum with yet another unsubstantiated
          story would be no better, indeed even worse than the vacuum itself. For
          at least in a vacuum of knowledge and understanding one would thence
          seek for a truth until found, and irrespective of what that truth turned
          out to be. But where does one look for truth? And to where does one look
          for the truth of this or that thing? Well, that which I offer, and only
          in symbolic form here, is proved to us to be true by life itself. So I
          offer here a mere analogy, and one which both science and many religions
          like to use themselves – the tree of life.

          Imagine then that you were a leaf on a tree. Observation initially
          suggests that you grew on the branch: an end product of a long series of
          mysterious forces which results in you, the leaf, perilously attached by
          a thread to the tree of life for your short term sustenance for
          existence thereon. One day the wind will blow and your connection to
          the tree of life will end; and you will revert back to the oblivion from
          whence you came. You, the conscious leaf, can see many other such
          leaves on that tree, and see also the body of the tree itself. But
          where is it all going to: what is it all for; is there any point or
          meaning to the tree and all the little leafs on it? The leafs come, and
          the leafs fall and go, to rot on the ground. Indeed, why does even the
          tree of creation exist? Is it simply to bring forth little bits of
          foliage that make a colourful show for a short while and then pass into
          the void of nothing? Thus it is that the leaf sits firmly attached to
          the tree for a season and simply blows around in the random actions of
          the wind; and sometimes wondering as to why it has to be made conscious
          to fulfil this silly cosmological function at all.

          But one day something very strange and different happens. A different
          kind of wind blows; and the little leaf is very disorientated for a
          while. For instead of the leaf looking outward its perception is turned
          inward. It sees not the tree and all the other foliage, nor the sky nor
          anything of the outer world; but only that of an inner well of blackness
          and void. But vision is suddenly restored, taken over by some other
          eye, an eye unknown to the leaf hitherto, and one which begins to move
          inward and downward through `nothing'. Down and down, onward
          and onward down into an abyss of blackness, but which is interspersed
          with some visions along the way, light and colours in visions not
          understood by the leaf at that time.

          That which the leaf `was' travels into the leaf, down into the
          branch of the tree; down the inside of the trunk of the tree, down, down
          through the roots of the tree itself – and thence beyond the tree
          and into the ground itself; the very ground from which the tree itself
          grew.

          And the leaf knew that it was home; the realm from whence it came and
          has its origin and eternal existence. And the leaf realised that it was
          not a leaf at all, but rather the very sap which gives it existence; and
          which pays no resemblance to the leaf at all; for the leaf was always
          nothing more than a dead thing, a vehicle, a shell for the sap to view
          the finished product of the tree itself.

          So too is it with consciousness. Consciousness is not a man or a woman,
          or an animal or bird, it is a primordial cosmic energy, and the very
          first emanation from the point of no duration or extension; time cannot
          whither it nor custom stale its delight. Before the tree ever was, the
          sap existed; before time ever emanated into existence, the mind was.
          That which they call spirit, is consciousness. That which they call the
          soul is the tree trunk, the universe of time and space. That which they
          call the personality is but a seasonal outcrop of the sap of eternal
          life.

          And when the sap returned back up through the tree and back into the
          leaf from whence it had been, then it smiled at its neighbouring
          colleagues who were oh so worried about being blown off the tree of
          time…. "Not to worry, for you are not from this universe at all;
          know thy self; for you are the first thing ever brought forth from no
          created thing, and long before the tree ever existed". And the sap
          of the leaf also knew as to why it existed, for it had been home and
          remembered what it was for and from whence it came and why. But all the
          other little bits of foliage creased themselves laughing – until
          just prior to their leaf being blown off the tree and the sap within it
          had left, and had begun its journey back down through the vortex of the
          tree of creation, and on its way back home, from whence it came beyond
          the mists and vortices of time and change. Only that which is made in
          eternity can return to eternity, and all things return to from whence
          they came in due course. As it is with matter then so too is it with
          Consciousness. Not a theory, but an experience. It happens.

          A great Miracle is Man – the meeting ground of inner and outer
          dimensions.

          Dick Richardson.









          [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]



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