Falling from Grace & the Dawn of True Faith

I've had super sublime spiritual experiences where there was no doubt I was in the Great Perfection. I've also decsended to depths of Hell, losing all hope for any salvation. Then there is what is beyond all of that. Quiet, Simple, no fireworks, no angels, no demons, just plain This. And in the midst of anything that could ever possibly happen or arise This is fundamentally well. It is beyond concept, time, space, & elaboration. This is where my True Faith arises beyond rising and rests simple and free. This is what we are. And it is non-separate from what appears.

A gift from Robert Augustus Masters

THE ANATOMY OF FAITH

Faith knows the way by heart.

Faith is radical trust in action. Trust in what? In Being, in our own Buddhanature, in What-Really-Matters. We may not see It, we may not hear It, we may seem to stray far from It, but through cultivating faith we open to the recognition that It — however invisible It may appear to be to us — is ever with us, regardless of our thoughts to the contrary. Faith is, among other things, intimacy with not-knowing.

Faith is forged in the crucible of our suffering, emerging as a dynamic openness that helps us navigate through zones of ourselves commonly submerged in darkness, despair, and depression. The presence of faith, however, doesn’t necessarily mean we will have clear sailing. Even when our faith is strong, we may still find ourselves down in the muck on our hands and knees — but not so inclined to make ego-suffused drama out of our situation.

Faith responds to problems, but not on the level at which they occur. That is, faith takes a nonproblematic orientation to problems, providing a spiritually intimate openness that holds us and our areas of concern with great care. This openness — sacred space in the flesh — contains without binding, and releases without abandoning. Its value is verified by direct participation in it. Direct experience, not belief, provides the relevant data or material — physical and otherwise — through which faith is cultivated, known, appreciated, and more fully embodied.

Faith is not a matter of believing in something; it is much deeper than belief or any other mental construction. And nor is faith merely synonymous with hope — hope is rooted in the future, faith in the present. Where hope promises, faith gives. Where hope dreams, faith awakens. Where hope is nostalgia for the future, faith is acceptance of the now — not a blind, misguided, or submissive acceptance, but a dynamic acceptance, unpolluted by hope and other romancings of tomorrow.

Faith deepens through situations that test it. Without such conditions, faith remains in the shallows. Pain comes with Life, and what better use to make of pain than to deepen our faith? Instead of turning our pain into suffering, we can allow it to fuel our way into a deeper life, a life abundant with faith. Then affliction is not so much a fall from Grace as it is Grace in its dark, deglamorized disguise, providing the very conditions through which we can more fully awaken from the entrapping dreams that we habitually fuel and populate.

There is perhaps no more worthy gift to have than unshakable faith. What are the ingredients of such faith? First of all, a strongly felt connection to Being, in conjunction with an ongoing recognition that this connection still exists when we don’t feel it. Second, a non-despairing abandoning of all hope of fruition, an unforced letting go of being invested and caught up in particular outcomes. Third, a patience that waits without waiting, that endures without having to have a clear endpoint. Fourth, a dynamic embracing of not-knowing (and not having to know), honoring the knowledge-transcending Mystery
of Being. Fifth, accepting what is exactly as it is, including our feelings and intentions and actions regarding it. And, last but not least, cultivating gratitude for what we currently have, including the ability to develop faith.

Faith makes us feel good even about not feeling good. If our faith is well-rooted, we usually do not forget it for long — we cannot help but remember what gives us faith, even when our remembering is gray, opaque, or far from stable. Faith provides not an antidote to our suffering, but rather a compassionate space for it, in which we can more clearly hear and
sanely respond to what our pain is telling us. Although faith might not make pain go away, it takes the suffering out of it.
Faith does not necessarily still the storm, but allows us to be with it — and to become intimate with it — without losing track of What-Really-Matters. Spiritual stamina.

Faith teaches us not to control, but to let be. This is not mere passivity nor some sort of spiritualized irresponsibility, but rather a powerful quietness or stillness out of which can emerge fitting action, choices made by something wiser than our mind. When our faith is strong, the necessity of the situation is the only catalyst we need for taking fitting action.

Faith is often made synonymous with what is commonly referred to as “blind faith.” But real faith is far from blind — though it may sometimes lack clear vision, it knows the way by heart, even if it has to inch along on its belly through the sniper fire of doubt.

Faith allows us to live sanely and compassionately in the midst of all that is happening. Bad days don’t destroy or cripple it, but only strengthen it. So for faith, suffering is not just bad news. The presence of faith does not signal an end to difficult states — as in fantasies of saintly detachment — but rather an appropriate context for them. Bringing things to an end is not the point; radical trust in Being is. Faith is the embodiment of such trust.

Faith is the highest form of devotion. Faith is the lifeblood of real patience, explaining nothing and revealing all. Through it, we find the necessary energy and endurance for the most significant journey of all.

Faith knows the way by heart.