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"You can’t say anything about that energy — it is already manifesting itself, expressing itself in a boundless way; it has no limitations, no boundaries. It is not yours, not mine; it belongs to everybody. You are part of that. You are an expression of that. Just as the flower is an expression of life, you are another expression of life.
What is behind all this is life. What it is, you will never know."
Jiddu Krishnamurti
Such a profound quote, and it really hits home. Jeff Foster expressed essentially the same sentiment over on his page.
But honestly, what Jeff is teaching essentially dismantles every religion and all forms of spirituality out there—even those more agnostic paths like Advaita Vedanta, let alone Christianity, which tends to crumble the moment you start applying any real critical scrutiny to it.
There is simply no requirement for external saviors, fairies, spirits, gods, or even the devil...
The individual life is actually just Life being viewed through the eyes of an illusory self. Jeff, much like certain naturalistic philosophers and pantheists, maintains that Life—that ultimate Steak/Absolute—is ever-present, right here and now. There is no need to go searching because we are already "home." All spiritualities and religions are built upon duality and the supernatural, acting as if some otherworldly realm is our true home or essence. But if everything truly Is, then searching becomes redundant. Simply abandoning the search is what constitutes "enlightenment" (if we absolutely must use such confusing terminology). I believe the late Jiddu Krishnamurti would have found common ground with that sentiment.
If I may draw a parallel to the philosophy of immanence and Gilles Deleuze, Life—or what he refers to as the "chaosmos" (a blend of chaos and cosmos)—is an infinite sequence of processes, dynamically scattered yet fundamentally interconnected. In this view, the illusion of separation between subject and object dissolves. In reality, Life is a flow in which it is impossible to capture its essence and then proceed to talk about it. That is precisely why theology and sacred texts ultimately fail. The very notion of searching for something that is already present is quite damaging; it is a waste of precious time and only serves to fuel anxiety—the "I must achieve this or that" mentality—and existential crises.
Thomas Metzinger, a modern philosopher working in tandem with neuroscience, has arrived at a new metaphysical model suggesting that every form of individuality is illusory, including the little "ego," the grand "Self," and every variety of identity we cling to. These types of attachments are merely products of cultural, genetic, biological, and psychological conditioning. For Metzinger, the "self" is always a phenomenon and never a noumenon (or a distinct essence/object). Subject and object are just standard polarities within the human brain. However, Life/Steak/Existence exists as a self-sufficient entity, without any need for external objects to somehow cause that Steak. This effectively dismantles creationist arguments and implies a radical rejection of anything "transcendental," because the mere idea of something distant and artificially severed from the Steak itself is inherently problematic.
@Anthony Perez9Man...
👍 Cheers to atheistic spirituality! 🙂
Here is a little something for those who find themselves craving more than just abstract theory:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=C5NkRc5LcpM
If you happen to be an orthodox Christian and don't have much interest in occult systems or esoteric symbols, you might find great value in practicing Visio Divina. It is essentially a practice rooted in the tradition of Lectio Divina—that contemplative way of reading the Bible—except that in Visio Divina, the focus shifts from the written word to the sacred art of religious imagery and traditional Christian symbols.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MYZShgusWKI
Other various systems and practices involving active imagination and deep contemplation operate on a very similar, if not identical, principle.
Regarding the specific approach one takes, some people certainly lean heavily on the intellect, utilizing memory and their prior understanding of symbolism to impress the image and its meaning onto the consciousness through contemplation. On the other hand, some approaches rely much more on intuitive capacity—simply soaking everything in without needing to grasp it through logic or reason. Both methods are deeply embedded in spiritual traditions; which one you choose really just depends on the specific tradition and your own personal goals. At the heart of it, both the Platonic or Kabbalistic styles (which favor the intellect and rational contemplation) and the Christian approach (which focuses on the heart and emotions) are perfectly legitimate paths that lead toward a deeper understanding and the integration of the psyche with those higher, transpersonal layers of being.
Visual meditation was famously practiced within the Jesuit contemplative tradition, much like how icon veneration remains a central practice in Eastern Orthodoxy.
Chris Peterson53 said:🙂
At the end of the day, Tarot cards are nothing more than scraps of paper covered in symbols.
Behind all of it, there is always a human being using them!
And that’s the point—if a person isn't even aware of their own inner being, or hasn't reached that level of consciousness, then Tarot and any other similar tools are completely useless. They won't contribute a single thing to spiritual growth!
For years now, I've been entertained by this constant mystification and glorification of Tarot.
Which is exactly what you're doing here in this post!😉
But hey, it's good that you realize Tarot is just a tool—assuming that's actually what you need it to be.
Precisely!
First off, I'm not a woman, and secondly...
I think we’ve had a bit of a misunderstanding here. I don't actually use Tarot at all; I was simply pointing out one of its less common applications as a method for meditation and contemplation. However, I do engage in something quite similar to Tarot, which involves emblematic meditations on specific sequences of alchemical and Kabbalistic symbols. The same "rules" apply to that kind of practice. While it is just ink on paper, these images act as symbolic representations of various facets of the human psyche. Much like the physical body has its own anatomy, the soul possesses its own unique structure as well. By interpreting these archetypal images, one begins to understand the Self. But understanding is only one part of the journey. In fact, this esoteric practice isn't just a staple within inner circles of initiates; it is also a fundamental component of deep psychoanalysis according to Jung. Jung was a profound admirer of alchemy, Tarot, and the Kabbalah, viewing them as sophisticated maps of the human psyche and the Self. Through active imagination, contemplation, and meditation—all facilitated by visual aids—one navigates this terrain. The whole process of internalizing these symbols, emblems, and sequences is beautifully detailed in the link I provided.
Nobody is glorifying anything. I haven't seen anyone glorifying the use of Tarot for contemplative purposes anywhere. Have you?
All I ever see is people asking "will I win the Powerball lottery?" and that sort of nonsense.
wearyowl29 said:Honestly, I’ve yet to hear of anyone using those cards to unite with the Kingdom of God or any other kingdom! It’s a bit backwards, isn't it? You have to find your own center and figure out who you truly are first. Only then can you actually head out on that journey to connect with the Source.
It’s true; for most people, Tarot has nothing to do with the Kingdom of God and everything to do with mundane, ego-driven desires—like just wanting to "know" things—which is quite tragic and suggests they are completely missing the entire point of the cards. Divination and fortune-telling can be fun diversions, certainly, but they don't facilitate any real internal growth. In fact, they often hinder it, because the individual ends up just skimming the surface, unwilling to dive any deeper than that.
Think of Tarot as a meditative, archetypal map—it's more like a spiral staircase leading down into the depths of the human psyche. If we approach it from that perspective, then it becomes a useful instrument. Now, nobody is suggesting that Tarot is sufficient on its own or that Tarot equals enlightenment itself; far from it. It is merely a map. Much like chakras, the Sephirot, or those various "densities" one hears about in certain New Age circles 🙂. You should never mistake the map for the actual territory.
There are certain occult schools that focus exclusively on the contemplative side of Tarot rather than the theurgic aspects. Of course, such an interpretation and way of practicing isn't exactly common, I'll grant you that.
Some argue that self-knowledge must come before the knowledge of God. Others contend that it is the realization of God that provides a person with insight into their higher self. And still others maintain that self-knowledge and the knowledge of God are one and the same. As is always the case, it all comes down to one's intention and their chosen path.
Peter Phillips32 said:Based on what’s been posted here so far, it seems like everyone thinks meditation is just whatever some guru tells you it is... but honestly, that's not it. Meditation isn't defined by how modern influencers try to spin it or how they use it today; the whole concept is basically hijacked by whoever decided to translate that simple term in the first place...
But look, wouldn't it be way easier and more accurate—if you actually care about the truth behind a word—to just check an etymological dictionary? You know, see where the word actually came from and what it meant to the people who originally coined it, rather than listening to people trying to twist the meaning to fit their own agenda?
For instance, anyone hanging out on this forum is only a few clicks away from an etymological dictionary etymonline - meditation.
So, what does that actually imply? Doesn't it suggest that you don't need some specific, rigid posture just to contemplate or observe a problem? And doesn't it mean you don't have to join some cult or follow a specific sect just to be taught what it means to meditate?
Maybe it just means focusing all your psychosomatic energy in one single direction is enough?
Isn't it enough to just understand the tool you're using—which is language? (Just a side note here—that last rhetorical question might be a bit of an oversimplification, but I think it hits the nail on the head regardless)
There is a vast array of techniques and approaches, much like there are endless definitions for meditation itself.
In the West, meditation—particularly within the Christian tradition—often involves contemplating sacred texts and teachings. In the Orient, however, meditation is typically centered on suspending all conscious processes except for pure observation, often developing concentration through a specific focus, such as a mantra, a sound, a color, a symbol, or a deity. Interestingly, what we call contemplation in the West is essentially what is practiced as meditation in the Orient. This leads to quite a bit of confusion, as many people claim that Christians don't meditate, which is fundamentally incorrect. For Christians, contemplation refers to a state of being where one exists without thought, transcending the usual sensations of space and time.
We can distinguish between active and passive meditation. Passive meditation is receptive; the greater value lies not in "doing" anything or observing, but in the sheer direction of the concentration itself. In its active form, the emphasis shifts toward a more vigorous concentration and a very precisely defined, structured process of focus. Meditation can be loosely structured, entirely unstructured, highly organized, or even ritualized. It truly all depends on the tradition from which it emerges and the intention behind the practice.
Abrahamic mysticism and spirituality tend to favor active contemplation, which serves not to empty the mind, but to fill it while pondering divine mysteries.
I don't believe any single form is superior to another; instead, I see them as complementary methods that simply start from different assumptions. Personally, I utilize both. The "lectio divina" technique (divine reading of Scripture) in Christianity remains my most cherished form of meditation because it weaves together reading (lectio), reflecting on the text (meditatio), prayer (oratio), and finally, abiding or surrendering (contemplatio). That final stage of contemplation reminds me so much of Eastern practices where one lets go of all mental concepts and simply exists, surrendering to the Absolute. To me, it feels like a very logical progression of practice, as it engages every level of human consciousness: the intellect, the emotions, and ultimately, surrender (the letting go of both preferences). It is a gradual ascent from a state of fragmented consciousness toward the experience of unified consciousness.
Does that imply that a specific posture isn't necessary for reflection or observing a problem? Does it perhaps mean you don't need to belong to some specific group to be taught what meditation is?
Doesn't it perhaps mean that simply directing one's psychosomatic abilities in a single direction is enough?
That really depends on the framework you are using to view the matter. In Western traditions, posture doesn't hold much special significance—though it might play a role in Sufism (dhikr) or Prophetic Kabbalah—but in Christianity, it is almost entirely incidental. In the Orient, however, the physical posture is practically half the practice, as the emphasis is placed on maintaining steady concentration throughout the session; the mind tends to settle much more easily if the body remains still (reducing the heart rate, stopping unnecessary itching, or easing muscle tension, etc.). Psychosomatics are kept to a minimum unless specifically prescribed by the practice (like the Kabbalistic rocking found in the practices of Abraham Abulafia, or the ecstatic breathing seen during group dhikr among Sufis).
In certain circles, there’s this intense, almost overwhelming emphasis on belonging to a specific system—you see it quite often within traditionalist groups where everything is strictly structured. However, in the landscape of modern, free-form spirituality, we’re seeing a much stronger shift toward a more individualistic approach, where people tend to forge their own unique paths rather than following a pre-set map.
Here is how the early Church Fathers and theologians described the nature of God:
Tatian the Syrian
“Our God knows no beginning within time. He is Himself without origin, acting as the very fountainhead of all existence. God is spirit, existing entirely apart from matter; rather, He is the architect of the material spirits and the phenomena that manifest within the physical realm. He is the invisible Father of both the perceptible and the unseen” (Epistle to the Greeks 4 [A.D. 170]).
Athanasius
“I have demonstrated sufficiently that we are not atheists, for we acknowledge one God—unbegotten, eternal, invisible, unchanging, incomprehensible, and unbound. He is a being known only through intellect and reason, enveloped in light and beauty; He is spirit possessing indescribable power, through whom all things were created and ordered by His Word, and through whom they are sustained in being” (Apology for Christians 10 [A.D. 177]).
Irenaeus
“The Father of all things remains far removed from these earthly affairs, from the fleeting emotions and passions of men. He is simple, lacking any composition or structure, being identical only to Himself. He is pure intellect, pure spirit, pure thought, and pure reason... the very essence of light and the ultimate source of every good; this is how the pious and religious have always spoken of God” (Against Heresies 2,13,3 [A.D. 189]).
Clement of Alexandria
“Consider the hierarchy of substance: first, there is that which exists purely in itself, much like a stone is defined as a substance. Second is the substance capable of growth, such as a plant that flourishes and then decays. Third is the animated, sensory substance, like an animal or a horse. Fourth is the animated, sensory, and rational substance, found in mankind. From this, we see that each of us is composed of elements of the whole, for we possess an immaterial soul and mind, which serves as the image of God” (Excerpt from On Providence [A.D. 200]).
“Being resides in God. God is the divine Being, eternal and without beginning, incorporeal and limitless, the cause of everything that exists. To be is to persist completely. Nature is the truth of things, their inner reality. For some, nature is merely the product of what has come to be; for others, it is God’s providence, which causes being and provides the mode of existence for all created things.” (Ibid).
“What is God? ‘God,’ as the Lord says, ‘is spirit.’ Spirit is a specific, incorporeal, and indescribable substance. Incorporeal means that which possesses no body, whose existence is not defined by breath, length, or depth. And indescribable refers to that which occupies no space, yet dwells fully within all things, and within each thing entirely, while remaining perfectly itself.” (Ibid).
“No one can truly express Him in His entirety. Because of His sheer magnitude, He is defined as All, and He is the Father of all creation. There are no parts to which He could be assigned, for He is One and indivisible; thus, He is also infinite. We do not speak of Him in terms of being incomprehensible, but rather in terms of His sovereign, dimensionless, and boundless nature. Therefore, He is without form or name (Miscellaneous 5,13 [A.D. 208]).
Origen
“Since our own minds are inherently incapable of perceiving God as He truly is, we recognize the Father of all creation through the beauty of His works and the elegance of His handiwork. Thus, God is not regarded as a bodily being or one who inhabits a body, but as a purely intellectual Being, acknowledging that there is no addition or composition of any kind within Him” (Fundamental Truths 1,1,16 [A.D. 225]).
“John writes in the Gospel: 'No one has ever seen God,' clearly stating to all who have understanding that there is no nature through which God is visible—not because He might accidentally be seen by the eyes of a perishable creature, but because it is impossible by His very nature to be seen” (Ibid 1,1,8).
Athanasius
“God, however, since He has no parts, is the Father of the Son without division or change. For there is no beginning derived from His incorporeality, nor does anything enter into Him as it does into man. Simple in His nature, He is the Father of the only Son” (Letter on the Council of Nicaea 11 [A.D. 350]).
I suppose I should start by saying that there are times when one feels a bit lost in the shuffle of things, much like wandering through a dense fog without a compass, though perhaps even more aimlessly than that. It’s an odd sensation, isn't it? To feel as though you are drifting through life without a clear sense of direction or purpose, almost as if the very ground beneath your feet were made of shifting sand rather than something solid and dependable. There was this one afternoon, years ago, while I was sitting in a quiet little café over in Seattle—just watching the rain hit the window and thinking about how unpredictable existence can be—that I realized just how often we find ourselves stumbling blindly through our own decisions. We try to make sense of everything, to build these elaborate structures of logic and reason, yet we often end up feeling quite sightless in the face of true uncertainty. It’s a heavy thought, certainly, but one that seems to weigh on many of us as we navigate the complexities of being alive in this great, sprawling nation.
"God is simple, uncomplicated, and purely spiritual in nature; He possesses neither ears nor any physical organs for speech. He is pure essence and infinite, existing without being composed of numbers or constituent parts" (Holy Spirit 35 [a.d. 362.]).
Hilary of Poitiers
One must first hold fast to the realization that God is entirely incorporeal. He isn’t some collection of physical parts or a composite of various limbs and organs that might make up a biological body. If we look at the Gospel, it is clearly stated that God is spirit—invisible, eternal in nature, immeasurable, and completely self-sufficient. It is written that a spirit lacks the flesh and bone that define our physical existence; God’s very substance requires none of those earthly components. Yet, even though He lacks a physical frame, He remains omnipresent, dwelling within all things—all-hearing, all-seeing, all-acting, and the ultimate sustainer of everything in existence.
Basil the Great
“God’s actions may manifest in a thousand different ways, yet His essence remains beautifully simple” (Letters 234,1 [A.D. 367]).
Ambrose Milanski
God is essentially simple in nature; He isn't composed of parts, nor is He a collection of different elements. You can't really add anything to Him to make Him "more" than what He is. In His very essence, He possesses only that which is divine—it is the quality that fills everything entirely. He doesn't mingle with or get entangled in anything else, yet at the same time, He permeates all things. While He flows through everything, nothing can ever penetrate or intrude upon Him. It is a bit like how light might fill a room without being changed by the objects it touches, except much more profound. He remains perfectly complete and present everywhere all at once, whether we are looking up at the heavens, walking the streets of a city like Chicago, or staring out at the most remote reaches of the Atlantic Ocean. To the human eye, His true nature remains utterly beyond our ability to fully grasp or communicate.
Evagrius Ponticus
To those who point a finger at us and claim we are teaching a doctrine of three separate gods, let them understand that we confess only one God—not in terms of quantity, but in essence. You see, when we speak of something being numerically one, that doesn't necessarily mean it is absolutely singular or simple in its very nature. It is a concept widely accepted by scholars and theologians alike: that God is simple and not composed of various parts.
Gregory Jackson
There will never be—nor could there ever be—any dogma within the Church of God that would attempt to prove that the simple, indivisible nature of God is anything other than what it truly is. To suggest that He is multifaceted, shifting, or somehow composed of conflicting elements is simply a fallacy. The sheer simplicity found within the dogma of truth serves only to reveal the true essence of God exactly as He is.
John Chrysostom
When we look at how Paul approaches his understanding of God, he isn't suggesting that he possesses a fragmented view of the Divine essence—as if he were holding one piece of a puzzle while lacking the rest. That wouldn't make much sense because God is fundamentally simple, a singular and undivided reality. Rather, when he uses the term "partially," he’s really just acknowledging the vast, unbridgeable gap between human perception and the actual nature of the Creator. He knows, with absolute certainty, that God exists; he recognizes the presence of the Divine in the world around him. But as for what God truly is in His essential being? That remains a mystery beyond the reach of our limited intellect. It is less about knowing only a fraction of the truth and more about recognizing that the full magnitude of God's essence is simply too immense for us to ever fully grasp.
Why does John insist that "no one has ever seen God" (John 1:18)? I suspect he’s making a distinction regarding our capacity for true, perfect comprehension—that deep, intimate knowledge of the Divine essence. If you look at the various instances in history where people claim to have had visions of God, you'll notice a pattern of inconsistency. It’s almost self-evident that none of those individuals actually caught a glimpse of the pure, unadulterated essence of God, because if they had, their experiences wouldn't be so wildly different from one another. You see, God is fundamentally simple, undivided, and without any physical shape or composition; yet, the visions people report are all varying shapes and forms.
Augustin
When we look at the world around us—this swirling, ever-changing landscape of physical things—we have to make a distinction between what a thing actually is and how it simply appears to be in a given moment. In these shifting, created realities, if we aren't describing the core essence of a thing, we are merely talking about its accidents—those fleeting qualities like color, shape, or position that drift and change as time passes. It’s much like how a car might be red one day and blue the next after a repaint, or how a house might feel warm in the afternoon and cold by midnight; the "redness" or the "warmth" isn't the house itself, but just a temporary state of being. However, when we turn our gaze toward God, the entire framework shifts. There is absolutely nothing in Him that can be categorized as an accident. You won't find any fluctuations or passing whims there, because there is no change within the Divine. Everything we can possibly say about Him doesn't just describe a temporary quality or a passing mood; rather, everything spoken of Him pertains directly to His very substance. He is constant, unchanging, and entirely whole in Himself.
Cyril of Alexandria
By our very nature, we aren't exactly simple creatures; yet, the divine nature—which is perfectly simple and lacks nothing by design—holds within itself an absolute abundance of all perfections and requires nothing more from the outside world.
"The very essence of the supreme God, being inherently simple and indivisible, can never be split into two parts" (The Riches of the Holy Trinity 11 [a.d. 424]).
When you encounter Divine Scripture speaking of God through the lens of physical actions or bodily descriptions, try not to let your mind get bogged down in those literal, tangible details. It is so easy to fall into the trap of visualizing the material world when we read such passages, but I find it much more fruitful to look past the physical imagery used as a metaphor and instead step into the profound beauty of the underlying concepts. Rather than fixating on shapes, quantities, specific descriptions, or any other physical attributes that define our earthly existence, one should strive to contemplate God—even though He remains far beyond the grasp of our limited intellect. We simply cannot speak of Him in truly human terms; after all, there is no other way for us to conceptualize things that so vastly transcend our own understanding.