The Invitation of Otherness (Autonomy, Eros, and Intentionality)

We've been talking about various aspects of the relationship with images, possibilities of ways we can sense that relationship and conceive of that relationship, our relationship with them, their relationship with us, their gaze, their love, etc. And so I want to continue a little bit, expanding or filling out some aspects of the possibilities for relationship with image, and weave that into some of the nodes, the elements. Of course, all the twenty-eight nodes are, in a way, various characterizations or qualifications of our relationship with images. The imaginal itself is more a relationship than a thing in itself. But relationship obviously implies two things, two entities, two subjects, really, and so that immediately suggests, connects with, our element, our node of twoness, which we expanded that element to twoness, differentiation, retaining of particularities.

Eros, we've said many times, in the way that we're defining and conceiving of it, needs twoness. So there's an erotic tension between two, between this subject and that essentially subject because, as I'll elaborate, what we are in erotic relationship with, we soon, if we're not already, we begin to sense as subject, as other. So eros needs twoness, and where (I've said this before) there's a collapsing into melting, into union, lovely as that can be -- can be very, yes, lovely and fruitful sometimes -- but with regard to the eros between those two objects, it then collapses at that moment, and the fertility of the eros in terms of its insemination of the soulmaking dynamic, its beautiful proliferation of more faces of the beloved and of self and of world, etc., that collapses as well when the twoness collapses into union, into oneness (important as that is as a kind of experience at times).

We could also [say], and we have said in the past, eros will create and discover more differentiation, more particularities, more otherness, in a way. We have to be careful what we mean by that. I can't remember if I've said this before, but it bears saying again. A sense of otherness, a sense of an other -- so a relationship with an other, a twoness -- otherness is already a given for us most of the time. In other words, the way consciousness works anyway, and so the constitution of experience, entails, involves, a sense of otherness, even when we know and perceive our fundamental oneness with all things. In that mystical sense, important, beautiful, mystical sense of knowing and really perceiving there's a fundamental oneness with all things, phenomenally -- meaning in terms of appearance -- others still appear to us. Even when I know deeply my oneness, I can still navigate in the world, and whatever it is -- go to the toilet, make my breakfast. And this involves some degree of perception of other. The breakfast is other, the toast is other, the toilet bowl is other, etc. So even when we know oneness, phenomenally others still appear to us, and perception, in the way that it works, delineates self and other.

Eros, though, we say creates and discovers more otherness. But what do we mean when we say that? We don't really mean that it creates a greater distance between self and other, as kind of alienation. But rather, eros will create and discover, there will be ongoing discovery and creation of more and more dimensions, particularities, aspects, images, etc., within a beloved other, so that that beloved other has more faces of otherness, more kinds of otherness. The othernesses there become plural and enriched. They complexify. So twoness, otherness, particularities, all that. Wrapped up, or very much connected with this element of twoness, is autonomy. We talk about the autonomy of self and other. So let's take just a little time to unpack some aspects of that. When we're meditating with an image, when we're in contact, in dialogue, in relationship with an image, we'll probably or likely have a sense -- again, it's something that we begin to notice; I'm pointing it out -- that the image, or even just an aspect or a quality of that image, is somehow both me and not me, is both mine and not mine. It's related to its infinite echoing and all kinds of things. So this sort of double sense -- it's kind of me, and it's kind of not me; it's kind of mine, or this aspect that it has is kind of mine, this quality that it has is kind of mine, and really kind of not mine -- this double sense is part of the sense of its twoness. It's also part of the image's autonomy, the imaginal figure's autonomy, and maybe also part of the imaginal Middle Way -- me and not me, mine and not mine. It's related to the 'neither real nor not real.'

But because of that sense of twoness and autonomy there, that can support a sense of other elements, as usual, with all the elements and the interconnectedness, the way they ignite and feed off and open each other up, turn each other on. So that with other, with the autonomy of the other, the otherness of the other, and the twoness there, there can be a sense of grace, of gift. We're receiving something. Love, also, between the two. Sometimes we might notice we love them more when we recognize their autonomy. Beauty, mystery, unfathomability, dimensionality -- all of this is supported by that sense of otherness, in many ways. Sometimes, in the element of autonomy of self and other, we've also mentioned personhood as possibly wrapped up, a sense of personhood. Not just a sense of the autonomy of the image, but a sense of the personhood of the image. Sometimes, I think, we've put that out as part of the teaching. That's maybe a little more questionable, or maybe, maybe not, could be included; not sure.

I think the autonomy of the image is always there. That's a crucial aspect of an image becoming fully imaginal. It's not just a part of me. It's not completely under my control, etc. It's like a being. It is a being. It has its own autonomy, its own intelligence, its own will, its own perception, its own desire, etc. Personhood's, as I said, a little more -- hmm, not sure. So definitely, of course, sometimes we have the sense of the personhood of an image. We might even have a sense of personhood, for example, of a tree. We wouldn't usually think of that as a person, but we can feel its personhood as well as its autonomy when we're sensing it with soul. But a lot of these things depend on where we draw the line with definitions. So I think at one point, and I mentioned it the other day, I delineated four kinds of domains or kinds of experience that can open up from an image, and if I remember, the third one was this kind of space of the essence or the character of an imaginal figure.^[1] Someone was asking a question -- they were meditating on Aslan, the lion from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, from the Narnia tales, and the perception at some point, the perception of Aslan as a form faded and went into a vast empty space, but that space was imbued with the essence, the character of Aslan.^[2] So, very beautiful possibility, can happen sometimes. I'm not sure it should go there all the time. But still in the domain of the imaginal and soulmaking, definitely.

We mentioned the other night the sense of the four elements -- earth, air, fire, and water -- and them having dimensionality, divinity, mystery, unfathomability, etc., and the way they connect with your body and the possibility of meditating that way, but they may or may not have personhood. If they get connected with those four goddesses, then they can begin to have personhood, but they may or may not. Still, though, they might have this autonomy. So again, it depends on definitions, how we're going to draw the lines between these words. We talk about the autonomy of self and other -- so that element of the imaginal, the autonomy of both self and other, both self and the imaginal object, the beloved other. So let's just linger for a while on the sense of the autonomy of self. This is quite an important one, and sometimes a tricky one for some people at different stages in their life and in their practice. So an integral and important aspect of imaginal practice is that the self retains a sense of autonomy. We're not being taken over or possessed or kind of losing our sense of choice, or will, or discernment, etc., by the image. Nothing like that is -- it's certainly not being encouraged; nothing like that is really going on.

So when I talked about anchoring the other day, the dimensionality that an image has, and that sense of depth that it has, that sense of kind of possessing other levels or emanating from other levels, and that being able to provide us with an anchor and so keep us stable in regard to the vicissitudes of life. An anchor is like a kind of root, as well, like a tree. Part of the function of the roots of a tree is to keep it stable, to keep it upright, to stop it getting blown over by the wind. So we can talk at times, and I have used the phrase at times, to be "rooted in the divine," or "rooted in the angelic," "rooted in that dimensionality," "rooted in the angelic dimension or in the archetype," etc. But that root, or being rooted that way and anchored that way, doesn't mean an inflexibility there. We're not kind of pegged to the spot and immobile while something else has the autonomy and the mobility and we are being done to solely. So we still retain the autonomy of self there, and that means freedom, our freedom is there to a large extent, meaning we can choose how to practise, when to practise, when to get up from practice, what to do in practice, our pacing, our pausing, etc. We're not stuck somewhere in this kind of anchoring and rooting. So there are all the gifts of a kind of anchoring and rooting, but not a kind of frozen subjugation, immobility, imprisonment, etc.

[15:54] So, as I said, this is quite important for some people, perhaps given their history, given their psychology, etc., for all kinds of reasons. What do we mean? People use that word 'autonomy' in terms of psychology. In different psychologies, it's used quite differently, in different ways. I think in imaginal practice, autonomy, what we mean is, as I said, it's related to the twoness. It involves some sense of the distinctness, the twoness, the differentiation of self and other, self and imaginal object, self and beloved erotic other (whatever that is, human, tree, angel, image, demon, whatever). So it's based on that. But also, as I said, the autonomy of the self; some sense of the distinctness of self and other, at a certain level, at least, even if you know the oneness, and an ability of the self to assent or dissent, to contact with the image. We can refuse contact at any point if we want. We can stop it. We can turn away. We can do something else. We can engage in another practice. We can get up. So the ability of the self is retained to assent or dissent to contact or engagement with an imaginal figure, or to the duty. So that's an important fact as well. We said duty often comes. We talked about there's a limit to the kind of freedom that we get with the imaginal because of the burden of duty, but the duty is also something that we retain autonomy with. We can say no to a duty. We can say no to part of a duty. We can say no to a certain manifestation of a duty, etc.

So this retention of our capacity to discern and to choose, to assent or dissent -- this is what we mean by autonomy in the context of imaginal practice. Autonomy is with respect to the aspects of relationship with the other which feel or are soulmaking. So it's very specific. We're talking about what's the relationship with not just the imaginal figure, but particularly those aspects of the image that feel or that are sensed as soulmaking, and there's autonomy in relation to those. So we're not just swept up and kind of catapulted willy-nilly and beyond our will into some region of possession or imprisonment. Sometimes in modern psychology or some spiritual circles, autonomy is used in a much more absolute and general way. So we're being quite specific here in what we mean by it. Just to make a point there about the way we can be influenced by -- I touched on this the other day -- kind of what are the current popular or dominant psychological paradigms. So when we think about what does it mean to have, in general, a sense of a healthy autonomy of self, I wonder, or I want to point out again, that that sense or model of what is a healthy autonomy of self is culturally and historically contingent. It's an idea and a sense, a model given to us by whatever culture or sub-cultures we move in. You only have to look back in history, or look to other contemporary cultures, or even sub-cultures, to see that what perhaps you and I might share as a kind of almost automatic sense of what's involved in a healthy autonomy in our psychology is very contingent.

The whole way we tend to feel our self, or the whole way we conceive of the self and feel it -- and included in that is our sense of, yeah, what it means to be a healthy self, etc., psychologically -- there's a case, and it has been made by others, that self, the way we feel and conceive of it now, and the emphasis we give it, and the models we have of what a healthy one looks like, is actually a kind of secular, liberal, capitalist, Western, modern idea, you know? What happens if we kind of acknowledge that? Can we bring that acknowledgment into our understanding of Soulmaking Dharma, so we're not assuming a kind of unquestionable truth about self in general? As I said, you just have to think back or do a little research into the self-sense or the idea of self in, say, medieval Europe, before the Protestant Reformation, before the rise of capitalism, individualism, and all that, or in aboriginal cultures, or Japan even in the first half of the twentieth century. Very different, and with that, a different idea about autonomy and psychological health and relational health. We're talking about what is it to have my autonomy in this relationship, and some of that, you know, we have to say is culturally conditioned. Some of that cultural conditioning, of course, will creep into the Soulmaking Dharma. Of course it will.

It's interesting -- well, it's partly interesting -- to track Sartre's sort of development of his thinking. In his late thought, he had this sort of Marxist ideal of merging, the individual merging into and identifying with the group, so it was almost like losing one's autonomy, and that was his kind of ideal there. So all these different ideals. What, anyway, we might ask, is autonomy in a consumerist world of saturation with advertising? Am I really autonomous when I'm being fed all these messages that I can't help being influenced by? So that's a little bit of an aside, but, in a way, we're mostly wanting to talk about it in a very specific way in regards to images and working in dyads and soulmaking practice, mostly.

What does this mean, 'autonomy'? As I said, it overlaps with the element of twoness, but the word itself, autonomy, is from auto + nomos, two Greek words. So auto is actually meaning 'self,' and nomos means 'law.' So it kind of means self-governing and self-choosing. We said we retain this, or we develop this capacity, if it needs developing, but actually we retain it, this capacity to choose what we do, when we do, how much we do, etc., in imaginal relationship. So it's possible to exercise this, this capacity of our own, of the self's autonomy. And for some people, that's actually a really, really important stage. There might be all kinds of wonderful images flying around and visiting, and all kinds of openings -- and it's not to say one can't go with that and explore those, but again -- it doesn't have to be linear, but somewhere along the line, for some people, there needs to be a kind of shoring up of and reassuring oneself of the aspect of the self's autonomy.

For example, within an imaginal relationship, within an imaginal constellation, what do I go with? I need to have a sense that I can choose what aspect to go with; that I can say no; that I can slow the whole thing down and go at my pace, or go faster or whatever; that I can pause the whole thing, you know? So actually practising that with an image. With some people I've worked with, it's helpful for them for me to kind of help them do that as we work with an image, until they internalize it a bit more. In some instances, the image is actually helping them do that, interestingly, very beautifully. So that practice, of course, one can do in a dyad, in a soulmaking dyad, and of course, despite what I said about cultural conditioning, we could say or we could adopt the view, the popular view, that it's actually a part of healthy and fertile human relationships to retain that capacity to do all that in relationship, in the moment, or at least after a little bit say, "Hold on, I lost my autonomy there," or "I wasn't in touch with what I wanted or what I needed," etc., and to point that out, go back, and redo something.

Sometimes it's a question of exercising it. I don't think I'll speak about it now, but maybe if I talk about dyads I will say a little bit, I hope, about the actual practice of what we call twoness, or sometimes we call it balance of attention. That's very connected with this, obviously, and it's a really helpful practice for many people. Despite how simple it sounds, it's actually quite challenging, and there are some things that can help there. Really, really worth practising with that, what we call twoness practice or balance of attention practice. We'll come back to that later. But one can exercise in the ways that I just described. One can also just recognize that one's autonomy is still there. So even, as I said, when it seems like an image is very powerful, or kind of exerts a claim on us or gives us a duty, etc., we can actually, even within all that, at the same time, almost paradoxically perhaps -- not quite a paradox, but -- we can recognize that we still have autonomy. So, for example, when I gave that example of the claim of the god of music, that it had on me, and the power that it had on my life, there's that vulnerability there, etc., there's the recognition of that claim, and the autonomy of the image and the power of the image, etc., in my life. But I still have autonomy. I can choose what to do with that claim and that pull. I can choose how to relate to it. I can choose how much to explore it, and in what ways to explore it, etc.

So sometimes we shore up and, as I said, reassure ourselves of our own autonomy, of our self's autonomy in relation to an image, just by recognizing it. Again, there's so much about imaginal practice that -- it sometimes needs doing this, doing that, pulling this here, yanking that, make more of this, etc., open that, and sometimes it's just a matter of recognizing something, and in recognizing, in noticing some aspect or some element, it amplifies it. And that's the case, too, with our own sense of our autonomy. But this twoness, and also the double autonomy, both of self and other -- this allows and opens the eros, as we've said. Eros and twoness, they're going to be connected, and implicit in each other. [30:49] And as we've said right from the beginning in all these soulmaking teachings, the eros inseminates, it fertilizes the psyche, meaning the whole sense of the image, what we're sensing with soul, and also the logos, the ideation that we have, the concepts that we have.

So the twoness is important to allow the kind of -- I don't know if we can call it the principal sort of driver or catalyst or spark or engine of the whole soulmaking dynamic, the eros. Let's say a little bit about that and the connection there. Someone came in for an interview some time ago and reported an image of a big woman, a huge, large woman. I think she had lots of arms -- I can't remember -- like Avalokiteśvara, like Kuan Yin. And the image was of this yogi sitting in this big woman's lap. And she asked herself -- she was reporting on her practice; she was experimenting and exploring the elements, the nodes a little bit, and she said, "What kind of love do I have for her? What kind of love do I have for this big woman who is holding me in her lap, I'm resting in her lap?" And the answer came, "Lusty love." And so there was lust. In this case, there's sexual eros there. Remember eros doesn't necessarily need to be sexual. Our definition is broader than that, but it includes sexual eros. So in this case, lusty love.

And the yogi went with that a little bit, and started licking the goddess' belly, and then her breasts, and sucking her breasts, etc. And there was a lot of sexual energy that came with that. At that point, she got a little worried. There was a lot of sexual energy, and it sort of concerned her a little bit. Again, we're not used to that; we're certainly not used to that in a meditative context, where we're taught that that's defilement, etc. We've talked about all this many times before. So she got a little concerned, and so she pulled back a little bit. And then, very wisely, very skilful practice, "Okay, there's a little concern here." Again, there's the self's autonomy -- I recognize a concern, I pull back, I pause, and then I decide to return in my own time, but with a slightly different inclination, a slightly different intention. So she returned to the goddess and sought out the divinity and the duty there. In other words, she's focusing on other nodes, and not getting so swept up in this sort of growing sexual energy that was there. So very skilful response at that point, and also an exercise of her own autonomy.

And in the sense of being with the goddess then and exploring the divinity and the duty, she noticed the goddess wants to and does nourish. That's what the goddess does. It's her fulfilment. This goddess exists for the sake of nourishing. And so, in a way, partly the duty then, partly the duty, is to open to that nourishment, open to the suckling nourishment from the goddess. And I asked her in the interview if the goddess could be present now, and she could. So then I asked her how her body feels, how the practitioner's body feels, and she said, "Very open in the chest." All of which was very clear; you could sense that. And then I asked her, "Can you experience the goddess' experience of her own body? Can you enter into, get a feel for the goddess' experience of her own body?" And she could, and she felt the openness of that body that was open to give, to nourish, that the milk could flow, the nourishment, the elixir could flow, the giving could flow. The openness, the fearlessness that the goddess felt in herself, in her body; the power; the joy; the abundance of her generous nourishing of others and of beings. So all this, the goddess was full of these qualities, and by entering into that experience, feeling into, resonating with, she got a direct kind of taste of that.

I sensed with that yogi that that openness, that fearlessness, that power and joy and generous, abundant nourishing of others, I sensed that actually these might be mirrors of this yogi's being that perhaps were only inchoately, only vaguely, only dimly sensed, or only in their initial sort of seed phase, and that part of the duty here for her, for this yogi, might be to mirror and echo that goddess in her life, and all that abundance and power, joy, fearlessness, giving, nourishment, openness, etc. A kind of angel out ahead, then, calling this practitioner to manifest something, calling them to echo the angel, calling them to that refraction in one's life and finding what that might mean, creating/discovering what that might mean. So I lightly suggested something like that, but in different words; I don't want to be too -- you know, sometimes you just feel like it's better for people to discover things themselves. Sometimes it's okay if I point it out. Sometimes there's a kind of middle way there. But again, we have the eros fertilizing a whole process then. But then that means that we have to tolerate eros, and we have to be okay with eros. And in this case, tolerate and be okay with and respond wisely and creatively to sexual eros and sexual energy there, which was quite intense and full.

So there's the autonomy of the self, and there's the autonomy of the image, we said; this sort of double-aspected element. When we talk about the autonomy of the image, it's not in contradiction to a sense of interconnectedness and even a knowing of a oneness, etc. So I have a friend who, for quite some years now, she senses her ovaries with soul. There's a sensing with soul of her ovaries. They become alive, dimensional, with their own intelligence, with their own desire, with their own sensibility. They become autonomous. We've talked about this. She's reported it in different ways. I'm sure I've only heard a fraction of it, but she has a soul-sense of her ovaries as deities, and their sense of things as autonomous entities -- so how do they experience things, what's their response to things, what's their sensibility? And they know their own autonomy.

So they have that autonomy, and they know their own autonomy and their own power. That's also related, power and autonomy, of course -- we go back to the auto + nomos, self-governing. But her sense was that they know that at the same time and naturally mixed with their knowing of their embeddedness. So the autonomy is not, as I said, in contradiction to their knowing their embeddedness, their interconnectedness. When we were talking at that time, she was talking about their sense of the ovaries existing in a kind of ocean, an imaginal ocean. And so they had a sense of their own power, their own autonomy, but also their embeddedness and interconnectedness within that imaginal ocean, and also their interconnectedness with what they are in relationship with, whatever that is at the time -- sensing this, sensing that; they are organs of perception, instruments of perception, soul-instruments. And for example, their dependence on sperm, if there wants to be conception, etc. So autonomy of image is not in contradiction, it can include, just like the self's autonomy can include, a sense of knowing oneness at the same time. We don't lose that autonomy, and neither does the image.

One aspect of the autonomy of the image, if we're relating it to eros as well, is that there is this anteros. I think I mentioned it maybe in one talk; I can't remember when.^[3] In classical Greek mythology, Anteros is one of the Erotes. They're sort of this -- 'club' is the wrong word -- band, gang of semi-divine beings. Eros is the principal one; Pothos, we've talked about as part of our definition of eros; Himeros; and Anteros; maybe some others I can't remember. But Anteros is the god of requited love (in other words, the returning of love). Actually, in our definition, he's the god of requited eros, the returning of eros. So that's the point I want to make, that there's not just love and being loved, there's eros and being the object of eros. So we have emphasized more in the teachings the eros from the self to the beloved other, to the imaginal object, etc., to whatever we're sensing with soul, but again, as you get used to the imaginal terrain, and the eyes, the sensibilities, get to notice more there, one will begin to recognize, "Oh, not only does this imaginal other love me back in very particular ways that I may need to get used to, or may not notice at first; it also has eros for me." So the love might be bigger than we usually think of love, but when we talk about eros, in our definition, our conception of eros, it's more than being loved. It kind of may be implicit in it, the love, but it's more than that.

So the eros flows both ways, and we can recognize ourselves as objects of eros, gazed at, related to with eros by the imaginal other, by whatever we're sensing with soul, and we can open to that. And what is it to feel oneself as beloved erotic other for this beloved erotic other? Again, that eros is not necessarily sexual. It might be. But it might be just eros in a non-sexual sense. Either way, it's going to be healing. I think I mentioned this -- I can't remember the context -- on the last retreat, the Roots into the Ground of Soul. To really know oneself as an object of beloved eros does something to the being and to the soul-sense and to the way we relate to ourselves. We can start relating to ourselves with eros, and that's more than love, which is more than mettā. So all these are important -- mettā, love, and eros. But again, one of the implicit dimensions of the autonomy of the image is the anteros, the fact that they can have their own eros for us. And in recognizing that, in tuning to it, in opening to it, in assenting to it, over time, that's going to be healing the soul at all kinds of levels. 'Healing' is not even the right word -- opening the soul, opening the sense of self, opening the sense of existence at all kinds of levels. May be sexual, often not sexual; it doesn't matter.

If we come back to this relationship of eros and desire and autonomy, and we talk about the self's autonomy, again -- I really want to keep mentioning this caveat about cultural views, etc. -- but we would tend to think of an autonomous self, someone who has a sense of their own autonomy, as also ... included in that means a relationship with their own desire, so that they know themselves with respect to desire and their eros. [47:42] That old maxim from, I don't know where it's from, Athens or wherever, the ancient philosophers, and even before that: know thyself. Included in that must be the knowing of oneself in relationship to desire, in relationship to one's eros. So again, that's quite a popular cultural view nowadays, maybe not shared by all cultures, but certainly for the Soulmaking Dharma in the larger sense, it's important, this whole journey and exploration and opening to desire, and beginning to understand it more, beginning to unpack some of the constrictions of the ways we've been indoctrinated in relationship to it, or shaped just from other factors, relational factors, etc., over the years with it. Beginning to unpack that, and understand it, and validate our desire, and discern different kinds of desire, and healthy desire, etc. That's part of knowing oneself and the importance of that.

So if I don't know what goes on for me regarding passion, desire, longing, goals, wishes, my relationship to them, my view of them, how or whether I can give myself to them fully, what is ego, what is deeper desire, then I don't really know myself and my life. Because I don't know well, I haven't opened out and explored and questioned those areas and those thrusts of my life, my heart's desire and all that's involved with that, I don't really know myself. And my life will be prevented from being as full as it can be. The gifts that I potentially can put out into the world, bestow, offer to others through my being, through my actions, through my speech, etc., they also won't be as fully able to be born into the world, to be given into the world. And what else are we here for? What else are we here for but that?

But this is hard, in the sense that, you know, some proportion of people, and even some proportion of people who are attracted to Soulmaking Dharma, all that has gotten very jammed up, or confused, or limited, or constricted, or it's painful. A couple of people have told me, "Whenever you ask, 'What do you want? What do you really want?', or that kind of question, it just freezes me. It drives me crazy." As I said, there might be real cultural conditioning going on. Certain cultures, even contemporary cultures, don't put a lot of emphasis on individual desire, personal desire, knowing that, differentiating it, pursuing it. Of course that's changing with the sort of Westernization of the global culture. But still, that cultural conditioning still operates for many people. And of course there's Dharma conditioning as well, we've talked about before, that just tends to denigrate desire, or at least not really explore its full range of colours in the psychology and in the being, and the ramifications of all that. So yes, it's really important, and it's part of our autonomy as human beings. And there are all kinds of cultural factors and individual factors as well, the conditioning that goes on there.

But when we explore this aspect, like the relationship with desire, or beginning to understand our desire and that whole realm, it's huge. We're really talking about a huge subject, and that as a strand, a large strand, a weave of threads within the whole subject of our, sense of our own autonomy. There are certain things that are worth pointing out and exploring in that whole relationship with desire. I can't remember if I've pointed these out before, but it doesn't matter; I'll say them again. When we talk about desire, it's always connected to other things. Obviously it's connected to an object, but it's always connected or in a field of conditions, so to speak, which shape the whole field of that desire and our relationship with it, or part of our relationship with it, and what then ensues. I'll mention four right now. (1) One is that a desire is what we might call open-ended, or not open-ended. So "I want to eat dinner or eat an apple" is not open-ended. If I can find an apple and dinner, I eat them, and then it's done. But when we talk about, for example, how we've opened up the notion of the path and awakening in Soulmaking Dharma as being open-ended, then the desire for soulmaking can be open-ended, and the desire then for awakening is open-ended. It's not the case that I reach something and it's finished. It's open-ended.

And that fact of whether a desire is open-ended, or whether the object of a desire is open-ended or not, makes a big difference to how we feel about it, how we relate to it, how we situate the self with it and then view the self in relationship to the desire, the whole energy we bring to it, the whole stamina, the whole pacing -- all kinds of things -- the whole way we see our life and our narrative. So it's quite an important distinction, whether a desire is open-ended or not. A desire is also, (2) secondly, in a context or field of conditions, inner or outer, that make it feasible or not -- that is, likely or not -- to achieve whatever that desired goal is, or to move towards that desire. That's an important thing to recognize as well. You know, what is it to have a desire that's actually achievable? What is it to have a desire that's not achievable? And how do we relate to those two differently? What's wise there? (3) Thirdly, a desire meets an internal pattern of habit. This is complex and often tricky and often not fully conscious. So, for example, feeling lack, or feeling a habitual sense of lack, or expecting disappointment, or expecting to be frustrated in one's desires, or quickly disallowing, not allowing desires, judging desires. Or the opposites of all those patterns.

Those conditions around the desire have a huge effect on what unfolds. If I have a desire and almost subconsciously I'm expecting disappointment, or I'm judging it, or I don't even allow it to become fully conscious and experience it, that shapes everything. It has a huge effect on what unfolds and whether the desire is felt or experienced as clarifying, empowering, healing, freeing. So we touched on this when we talked about the OCD practice, the Opening to the Current of Desire. A lot has to do with, a lot hinges on, what's the conception of the desire, and can I just shift that if I need to, out of perhaps my habitual way of viewing that desire as suspicious, for example? But all these internal patterns, usually habitual, will influence greatly what unfolds, as I said, around the desire, with the desire, from the desire, in relationship to that desire, whether it all becomes dukkha, etc., in various ways. So this is part of understanding ourselves, as well, understanding what's around the desire, what assumptions, conceptions, inclinations, inhibitions, etc.; which of those are kind of habitual patterns and which pertain just to this situation, this desire. It's all part of this journey of understanding, knowing oneself in regard to our desire, and, if you like, let's say, healing our relationship with desire.

(4) And fourth is whether a desire is authentic or not. I definitely have touched on this at some point, in some talks. I can't remember. Perhaps in Eros Unfettered. Sometimes people, as I've pointed out, "I want to practise emptiness. I need to practise emptiness," but actually, to realize emptiness is not really a soul-desire for them. It's not really coming authentically from the depths of their soul, as a soul-longing. It's rather either they've been indoctrinated that it's important, or the relationship with emptiness practice and that whole journey becomes just an attempt by the ego to measure up, to prove itself, to succeed, not to fail, to achieve X or Y stage of practice. And that's a very, very different thing than a soul-desire. The ego's attempt, desperate, often kind of miserable attempt to measure up, it's very different from an actual soul-desire. So again, part of knowing ourself, which is part of the flourishing of our sense of autonomy, is to know what's authentic in terms of our desires, and what's just like the advertising example I gave -- just kind of I've been conditioned by, whether it's an advert for a pair of shoes, or a car, or whether it's an advert for emptiness practice and a certain kind of awakening, a certain kind of realization. What's authentic to my soul? Knowing that, recognizing that, discerning that is really, really important.

But this journey with desire, journey with healing our relationship with desire and eros, is fundamental to Soulmaking Dharma. It's really important, and sometimes complex, you know? Sometimes people maybe hear some of these teachings, teachings on eros, maybe references to sexuality, etc., and they hear a little bit and they maybe talk to me and say, "I want to heal my eros. I want to heal my sexuality." Some will say, "In the last X years, I've shut down my eros, my heart, my sexuality. I hear you talk about eros and sexuality when you talk about imaginal practice. I want to use imaginal practice to reinvigorate and resurrect my sexuality." And sometimes a person actually says that to me or thinks that to themselves or whatever, but it can be too much pressure, and what's absent there often is the element of the fullness of intention. I decide, "I've heard all this talk about eros and sexuality, and that's what I want to do. That's what I want to use imaginal practice [for], to heal my eros and sexuality." They may even have a preconceived idea of what it would look like to have a healed eros and sexuality.

So they might try, but there's not the fullness of intention there. They're not approaching the soulmaking practice and imaginal practice with the primary, full intention of soulmaking and everything that includes, which may include healing. It may include healing the sexuality, and often does. But the intention has shrunk to, "I want to heal my sexuality." And so sometimes what happens for a person like that is they're approaching the whole imaginal practice, and they're trying to do it that way. An image arises, and they try and be sexual with the image. But then something goes awry: "This image arose. Right, I'll jump on that to heal my sexuality," and the image does something completely different. Again, it's part of the image's autonomy. So I have this approach, I've got a single view on a single intention, on not the fullness of intention, not the fullness of the scope of soulmaking, of intention for soulmaking and all that that means, and all the range and depth and fullness that that means, which, as I said, might include a healing of eros and sexuality and other aspects. I'm approaching it [with] this narrow view, narrow intention, and the image is just having none of it. The image just pulls out a sword and plunges it into her heart. That just shocks her and throws her completely off. Better to let, I think, the emotions of the dukkha of feeling shut down, of worrying if maybe my eros is gone forever -- "It used to be alive, I used to enjoy sexuality and my sexuality, and enjoy sex, and enjoy that kind of heart-connection. Maybe it's gone" -- the emotion of the dukkha of that, the emotion, the dukkha of feeling dry, feeling closed, actually to feel that.

We've talked a lot about this, dukkha and soulmaking. To include that, to start with that, and let that become image. Let that sense of dryness, of closedness, that sense of worry that something that I used to love and enjoy and used to flow, waters flowed into my life and lubricated my life, moistened my soul, may have gone forever, the concern there, the dukkha of feeling shut down, etc. Be with that. Be in the crucible with that, and let the image arise from that. And maybe the image that arises won't be sexual, but it's addressing the more pertinent issue. I mean, it might be sexual, but oftentimes it may be not. It's coming out of that sense of dryness. What image comes out of that dukkha, if I can be with it in the right way?

Or if you decide to deliberately explore a sexual image, again, let the sense of soulmaking lead you, and respond to that; stay and linger with what feels soulmaking, not what the mind thinks needs to happen for my healing. So much is about this kind of not buying into what the mind habitually thinks and assumes, and trusting the soul-read, the soul-sense, the soul-resonances in the energy body, in the feeling of resonances and mirroring and echoing and beauty and all of that, and to linger with that, and to resonate with that, rather than getting too narrow with this healing intention. I've shared a lot of stories; I could have shared so many more -- there can be such profound healing that comes out of soulmaking practice and imaginal practice. But it needs to be approached in the right way, and then it's included as part of something much bigger, that fuller intention, and that element of fullness of intention.

It's interesting, you know. Sometimes someone comes for an interview, and they're clear in the interview that they have an intention -- it's very clear, and they're talking about it -- for healing their sexuality, because of some abuse, or trauma, or history, or several aspects of history or whatever. And sometimes that opens up beautifully and is very healing through the imaginal. So they come, they're clear about their intention for healing that aspect of the being, and it does work. And in other instances, it really doesn't work as I've described just now. What's the difference? Why does one person bearing that intention for healing her sexuality, why does the work with image that comes out of that become fruitful, both soulful and healing areas of her sexuality, and another person not? So I wonder about this. And I'm thinking of two specific examples; I won't go into the details. But with the example where it worked, with the person where it worked, I feel that in part it worked because her intention to heal her sexuality was really set in a much larger intention for soulmaking, unlike the first person, where it really didn't work -- it just jammed up and weird stuff happened that threw her off. She didn't have much experience with soulmaking; she just heard a little bit about it, thought, "Oh, this sounds kind of familiar. I recognize this." It didn't really take on the whole (which I realize is an elaborate and complicated and very wordy) set of teachings, whereas this second person actually had. She had worked with image and sort of fallen in love with imaginal practice and Soulmaking Dharma and had so much richness there. She loved soulmaking, and she was aware of that.

So even when she came and said, "I'm bringing this thing about my sexuality, and something needs healing there," and explaining about past trauma there, her intention to heal her sexuality was set in this much larger intention for soulmaking that had become kind of implicit for her or kind of normal for her over her years of practice with soulmaking. It was also the case with this second person where it did flower beautifully in both a healing sense and a soul-sense, a soulmaking sense, that she had already had access to a particular sexual image of a feminine being that she gave a certain name to, and this image had visited her, and she had worked with her very beautifully over a couple of years, I think. So that image was easily accessible, and the elements were easily activated already there in relationship to that image, and that helped her meet the pain and the wounding around sexuality, whereas the first person I referred to actually had no such image or imaginal experience to call upon, nor really an understanding or familiarity or working familiarity with the whole imaginal paradigm.

But it's tricky, all this. Because I certainly think, you know, when I find things about what's my intention when someone comes for an interview and there's some dukkha, etc., it's often the case that I have an intention for healing. So sometimes it seems that it works relatively well to seek out an image with the intention primarily of healing something. As I said, even when I'm working as a teacher in interviews, someone might come with something, and we're working imaginally, but we're really addressing dukkha, and I can tell that my intention is, to some large extent, to heal whatever pain they're in, or whatever pattern of contraction or confusion or whatever it is, through the image. So, you know, helping facilitate or create a space where, for example, the self can become image, as we talked about, the self almost becoming other. And then in relation with her, now, that self-image as other then in relationship with the self, being slow and patient and carefully working on being seen by that image, of not forcing to be other or different. The appreciation, the love from that image, can also become eros as we talked about -- the eros from that image towards her; even towards her sense of contractedness, towards the contracted self, towards the frozen or jammed-up self, towards the withdrawing self, the fearful self, fearful of how she might sabotage, or this incapacity or confusion or contraction might sabotage a sort of new relationship, and the image coming into relationship with that, with that fear and that contraction and that self.

So there's the imaginal work, but I can tell that in my mind, at least, as I said, a large portion of the intention at that moment is for healing and relief of dukkha. 'Healing,' I would say, is a better word in this instance. But again, I wonder if it's okay and helpful only when there is already some degree of experience with imaginal images, and a larger commitment to soulmaking, i.e. the fullness of intention, as a context in the one intending or leading the practice (in that case, me if I'm guiding someone, or if we talk about the second person I referred to before in relation to her sexuality, in her kind of being with herself and leading her own practice). [1:14:38] But it might also be that, if we're talking about teaching now, it might also be that the one led needs to have some love of soulmaking, some experience with imaginal images and soulmaking. But even that, I'm not sure. All kinds of things are possible. But as a general rule, I think healing goes better when there's the fullness of intention. It's more powerful, richer, more multidimensional, deeper, and you get more than just the healing. More than just the healing will open up.

So I guess we're onto that element of fullness of intention now -- really, really important element. Strictly speaking, I think when we say 'fullness of intention,' it means the intention for soulmaking is paramount. It's the most primary intention. But the phrase 'fullness of intention' means it can include other intentions. So it can include, for example, the intention to heal this or that aspect of my being or history or whatever it is. But, in a way, the intention for soulmaking is, in itself, the kind of largest intention, intention for soulmaking. Because we've said that soulmaking is in the service of expanding our senses of sacredness, a person might think, "Oh, an intention for sensing sacredness is actually the same as the intention for soulmaking." But it may or may not be. It may be that an intention for more sense of sacredness may unwittingly, subconsciously imply a kind of uniform and universal perception or sense of sacredness. Maybe a person doesn't even realize that. And that uniform and universal perception or sense of sacredness spreads to more and more things or activities. That's different than a potentially endlessly expanding range of kinds and flavours of sacredness. Do you understand the difference? I might have a sense of "I see everything as God," or "I see everything as holy awareness," or "cosmic love," or whatever it is, and I want to see if I can kind of spread that over everything. But that's different than the range of kinds and flavours of sacredness endlessly expanding, endlessly proliferating, subdividing, complexifying, showing varied faces.

Sometimes when we have an intention to be mindful everywhere, for example, which is a great intention, and to be mindful everywhere and in all activities -- so whether I'm going shopping, whether I'm shitting, whether I'm surfing the internet or whatever, can there be mindfulness there? But the perceptions that that will allow, just being mindful in all those activities and kind of spreading the sense of mindfulness, they will be conditioned to arise by that attitude of mindfulness, and they will be limited in terms of the range and diversity. So yes, you'll begin to see impermanence. You'll begin to see a certain level of not-self. You'll have the kind of perception of "just as it is," "just this thing or that thing or that experience," "just as it is." You'll have the experience of sensations and the kind of atomistic nature of things, etc. But the range will be limited. The kinds of experience are limited. Certain experiences simply won't open up from that.

In a similar way, if I narrow down my idea of what sacredness is, and oftentimes what it looks like, what kinds of sacredness are available to perception, if that's narrowed down, either consciously or unconsciously, and that's my intention, for more sense of sacredness but it's actually quite limited, then that's a smaller intention than the intention for soulmaking, which, by virtue of the way the soulmaking dynamic works, will constantly or gradually show us ever more and more kinds and flavours and faces of sacredness, rather than the same sacredness in more places, more and more places. So there's a kind of openness to surprise, in a way, to new kinds of experiences in the fullness of intention that goes with the ride of soulmaking, goes with the process. It goes with the assent to the soulmaking dynamic.

Sometimes I've wondered whether this element of fullness of intention is actually quite rare. Yes, it seems to me quite a rare thing to come across in someone, not only as a way of conceiving and really kind of feeling or intending the totality of one's path and practice -- that's quite rare -- but also at any kind of juncture or moment or stretch of practice or path. Very understandably, really understandably, so often the wish is just to be rid of this dukkha, and that wish gains or is given ascendancy, gains primacy in the face and the flow of life and relationships and friendships and work and our psychological patterns. Of course, sometimes there really is a lot of dukkha and it's totally understandable, and sometimes that dukkha feels like it has a really long and seemingly intractable history and it's difficult to bear. But even then, even when there's actually not that much great suffering, it still seems to be quite rare for this fullness of intention, rather than a kind of more narrow intention to be rid of dukkha. So I don't know if that's the case, but I sometimes wonder about it.

The good news, or a piece of good news, is that like the other elements, we can always ignite this one, support its opening, just remind ourselves, "Can I open to a fuller intention, a wider intention, a more unfathomable intention?" Because part of the surprise of the journey of soulmaking is its unfathomability -- I don't know where it ends. I can't even peer into its depths and its distant possibilities. I don't know what's going to open next. But we can remind ourselves, we can, as I said, support the ignition, the opening, the activation of that node. And that really makes a big difference. So it might be rare, but it's a very powerful thing when it comes online, this fullness of intention. It makes a big difference, as I said. And as I said, all this is malleable, is labile. It's stuff that moves and that we can have a say, as part of our autonomy, in deciding, "Can I support something different here?" If I recognize the intention has got locked or closed or narrowed or fixated, how can I wield my skill and responsiveness and exercise my art in practice to actually allow a fuller intention? That's always possible because these things are malleable and labile.

A while ago I was working in an interview with someone, and I can't remember if she realized it or if I gently pointed it out -- not important -- but at some point she realized that she was kind of intent on what she wanted from the image. That's why, right at the beginning of teaching imaginal practice, I stressed this thing: "What do you want from me?" Asking the image, "What do you want from me?" So often, in so many psychologies, and even spiritualities that use the imagination, there's this sense of "What can I get from the image?" Of course, we do get lots from the image, but it's a different thing -- talking about relationship with image -- it's a very different relationship when we're not primarily relating to the image as "What can I get from it?" So she realized at some point that she was so intent on what she wanted from the image that she forgot to ask what the image wants. And in recognizing that, in realizing that, she actually felt some guilt, which is interesting. But luckily, there wasn't too much reified self around that guilt -- guilt can get very stuck and very jammed up and it involves a quite solid, contracted, reified sense of self. It was more what I call remorse: there was a softness in it, etc., and the self wasn't so reified.

But actually it was still important, I think, again, back to these issues of pacing, autonomy, etc., in this case I was just encouraging her, "Okay, don't rush at that point. Don't rush. Can we linger and feel that remorse? It's not really guilt. It's remorse about being so intent on what I want that I forget to ask what the image wants, or find out what the image wants. Linger. Without rushing, linger with that sense of remorse. Feel it in the heart. Feel it in the body." In her case, she could feel it behind her eyes, she said. So we're back again to the importance of the crucible, of being with the emotion, especially if there's a difficult emotion. It needs addressing, it needs including, it needs working with, it needs a certain kind of relating to. And in so doing, everything softened, and the energy body softened, but it softened everything in the imaginal relationship, including the perception of the image and the whole thing.

I'll mention this, because it's related, actually: when she was able to do that, then the self actually became image, as we talked about -- the self/other/world started to become involved in the imaginal constellation, as we talked about with the fountain image, with the stone fountain, stone basin -- so that instead of a real self in relationship, or a reified, contracted self in relationship with imaginal other, the self became image, as well, as part of the softening, the liquefying of the whole process. And then, interestingly, in relation to her eros and desire, the imaginal self's eros and desire was recognized as divine. As I mentioned, you don't have to rush this, or make it happen, or force it, or push something on to the next stage, but this is exactly what I would expect. There's an inevitable, in its own time, in its own pacing, organically, naturally, if we don't get in the way, there's a natural inclusion of the different elements of our being. They become imaginal. They gain dimension. They gain divinity. So that the imaginal self's eros, desire, was then sensed as divine, and of course the imaginal self -- going back to what we said before -- is me and not me; the qualities and aspects of the imaginal self are me and not me. So it's not me, but it's also me. It's my eros and desire, but also begins to feel and be sensed as divine.

And she had a sense, "I am participating in divinity and in the divine eros." With that, then, the craving that she felt before in relation to the image -- which was also related to a craving in life -- the craving subsided because the eros was allowed to flourish, and in this case, the eros itself was allowed to become an erotic-imaginal object, and the sense of divinity, etc., and the whole thing felt very soothing. So there's eros, but there's a different sense of the eros, a whole other dimension to the sense of the eros. We've touched on this before and the importance of this. And the agitation and contraction that she'd felt earlier was soothed. So there's a kind of healing, if you like, in that moment in relation to what was going on, but more long-term, probably even more significant -- definitely even more significant -- is that, we could say, is a part of ensouling our eros and desire, and the deepest healing is in ensouling. So her sense, then, that might have been the first time, it might be the first time in a whole series of experiences where she gets to taste the dimensionality and divinity of her desire and her eros. Her desire and her eros become ensouled. And that is probably, over time, a profound healing of one's relationship with one's eros and desire, and with oneself, one's own mind and heart and soul.

So as I said at the beginning, you can get a sense from all this -- and probably most of you at this point have a sense already from your own practice -- of just the gifts and the beauties and the surprises that open up when we take care of the relationship with images and with what we sense with soul, when we open up those possibilities, when we care for the relationship, when we care for the elements. All of that's involved. So much gift, so much blessing, so much that is wondrous.