There is a significant difference between communicating from a position that is lodged in the thinking process, in the head, and speaking from the heart. When the voice is arising from the heart, the words take on a tone or a quality that can be felt. When the content is also in coordination with that tone, there is a chance for an exceptionally transformative communication to occur.
Allow the attention to be with the heart. The heart and the area around the heart are a membrane. It is a perceptual organ. We can see through the heart. We can take in phenomena through the heart. But the heart, as I am describing it here, is not limited to the visible dimension of the body, but rather extends around and out from the body. Experiences can be had at levels other than the gross physical level.
We can see how people can become fiercely entangled in a relationship problem as a result of an exchange that is only the passage of information. The information that is transferred during non-frontal communication is so limited that it only symbolizes the most scattered pieces of what is.
When we attempt to hold onto information as reality, as truth, we end up clinging to the past. It is over already. Whereas, when our communication is coming from the frontal membrane, from the heart, and our sense of identity to some degree is lodged in this radiant space, then the communication has as its primary emphasis the felt sense of someone else. Information, then, is secondary.
It is certainly possible to hear someone out, to get their take on reality, and to feel that person and to love them. It is possible, as well, to hear that same information and to feel left out because it conflicts with our information. Only that which transcends bits of information can give rise to love and relationships.
The analogy of the human being as a computer is endlessly faulty. It is a total misunderstanding. It is true that the way we currently use the mind is similar in some way to a computer because we fill a container with information and churn it out in various forms. Ultimately, this body is not like a computer because it has so many dimensions that do not function according to the dictates of information. The body has a feeling tone that does not relate to informational knowledge.
There are waves between us. Waves of energetic embrace pass from body to body. These waves have substance. They can be consciously shared. They can be taken in and given out, played with, and transformed. This is what begins to distinguish us from a computer. No computer will ever be able to replicate the frontal membrane.
The computer analogy arises because we are out of touch with this membrane. Many of us have worked hard to close the membrane down because it is perceived as a threat to the computerized mind. Too much mystery makes the mind ill at ease. We keep this membrane half-closed and then find ourselves stuck in the information chain, even though it is filled with misunderstanding.
Our work here is to reinvigorate, heal, stimulate, and open the frontal membrane through the use of attention. We allow the attention to be with the front of the body, and we allow our attention to be with each other through that membrane. Conscious breathing is vital to our process because it reflects another opening and another closing, which is happening at a subtler level of physical existence.
We must recognize that we have been wounded. But the term wounded has been often used in an abstract or mystical context. Those who use the term in the context of various self-help programs can’t necessarily speak of where that wound is. The wound is not in the mind. When the phrase “wounded child” is used, very rarely is it suggested that this wound exists on the physical plane.
The wound is not psychological. Psychology takes place in an arena that is mostly fantasy. It doesn’t resist. Psychology explores conditioned mind frames. The wounding of the human being is in and around the body. The deep wounding which we associate with dilemma and trauma is in a very subtle area of the body, both at the physical level and at a level which is actually outside the frame.
The subtle body, the radiant body, can be wounded, and its relationship to the physical body can be disrupted, out of harmony. Our breathing and our attention are the beginning of a process in which we restore a harmonic relationship between the visible body and its subtle, outwardly extending radiance. The attention allows us to heal the filaments and circuitry in that radiance which has been crushed by the way we have been taught to use the body.
If we are to sit with someone else as a friend or a client, the primary process always involves allowing the attention to be with that person through the front of the body and not through the head. In doing this, we can discover that instead of trying to get somewhere, to fulfill a goal, the experience of communion is enough in and of itself. Nothing mental needs to be invented to explain or address anything at all.
The ability to turn the attention through the body to another is not foreign. It is not unnatural. It is only sometimes difficult to achieve because the habitual force of having the attention somewhere else is so ingrained. It may also be difficult to achieve because, before we can enter into a frontal relationship, we must have a frontal encounter with our wound.
If we have practiced enough so that our mental dilemmas, our self-contracted turmoil, can be lifted forperiodse, then even through our wound, we can enter into someone else’s space and be of assistance to them and ourselves. True communication is all mutuality. It is an entry into ecological consciousness. Something is given, but something is received as well. There is no difference.
