Knowledge-by-Presence

A deep insight from the Abrahamic traditions, and one that becomes even more essential for those on the spiritual path they speak about is the awareness that the cosmos is saturated not just with consciousness, but also with Presence. “Someone” is there present, and true knowledge, therefore, can only come through “direct experience” or encounter with that Presence, which makes possible something that is called knowledge-by-presence. Knowledge can come in many forms. We often explore epistemological frontiers at a distance. But we all know, however, that without being in the presence of something, say the Grand Canyon, we can have indirect knowledge for sure, but the extra being-in-the-presence of that holy space is without parallel and essential.  This is even more true when we are wanting to know persons.

With that awareness in mind, this rendering of a poem by Rumi is powerfully poignant for all those who “show up,” making themselves present at the lip of the divine Abyss whose intimacy overwhelms us.

When I press my hand to my chest it is your own chest I am pressing.

And now, look, you are scratching my head.

Sometimes you put me in the middle of the herd with your other camels.

But sometimes you put me out in front of the troops as commander.

Sometimes you wet me with your mouth like you do your seal-ring just before you plant your power.

Sometimes you round me into a simple door-knocker.

You took a little earth to make blood and sperm.

You take sperm and blood to create an animal.

You use the animal to evolve intelligence.

Life keeps spiraling into more life.

You drive me away gently as a flute does a dove from the eaves, then with the same song you just as gently call me back.

You push me out on many journeys, then you anchor me in a place of rest with no motion at all.

I am like water that flows.

I am also like a thorn that catches someone’s clothing.

I no longer care about marvelous sights.

I only want to be in your presence.

There is nothing now to believe, and only when I quit “believing in myself” did I enter this beauty.

I saw your blade coming and I burned my shield of protection.

I flew on six-hundred pairs of wings like Gabriel’s into your presence, but now that I am here, what do I need wings for?

Day and night I have guarded the pearl of my soul, but in this ocean of pearling currents I have lost track of which one is mine.

In this vast sea there is no way to describe you.

Speak the end of all this so strongly that I ride up over my own commotion.