I opened the book. It was get­ting late, and I was tired too, but I pulled myself togeth­er. I knew full well that heavy read­ing awaited me. In the Light of the Ember of Truth is a philo­soph­ic­al work, at times hard to fol­low, though instruct­ive even so. Often the text is dry, at other times it takes flight and sweeps you along. Not the story, for philo­sophy and story do not neces­sar­ily go togeth­er, but the splen­did cur­rent of thought.

The Path to the Self… What a chapter title! Yes, the self! So many people, so many ways of under­stand­ing it. For some it is an imper­son­al prin­ciple, for oth­ers the goal of self-real­isa­tion. For some it is being, for some con­scious­ness. For me it is bliss, for after all the final word can be noth­ing other than bliss and love.

Thus let the mas­ter speak:… But who is speak­ing, then? It is usu­ally the mas­ters who speak, and now the mas­ter is being instruc­ted? Then this is a hand­book for teach­ers, isn't it? How strange.

… In the city of the Soul there is a small dwell­ing (the body), in it a small lotus flower (the heart), and in that a small space. What lies hid­den in this little space, that must be searched for, that must be recog­nised! And if they ask: ‘But what is it that lies hid­den in it, what must be searched for, what must be known?’ Let him answer thus: ‘As vast as outer space is, so vast is this hol­low of the heart. It holds Heav­en and Earth, fire and wind, the Sun and the Moon, light­ning and the stars, and it embraces all that exists on Earth, or that is yet to be.’

How poet­ic! Without and with­in, above and below, everything is con­nec­ted with everything. In the drop lies the whole sea… This secret nook of the heart – is it really as vast as the uni­verse? And does it hold everything, everything? Of course, it is said that man is a small uni­verse, and the uni­verse a vast liv­ing body… But how does everything fit in?

And if they ask: ‘If this city of the Soul holds everything, all beings and all desires, what remains of them when old age seizes it and it per­ishes?’

Well, yes, mor­tal­ity. Pleas­ing thoughts come to an end one day. Old age, when I for­get everything, and decay, when they for­get me… Not pleas­ant.

Let him answer thus: ‘The soul does not age with the body. Even if they slay the body, they can­not slay it. This is the true city of the Soul, and not the body, this is what holds all desires with­in it. This is the Soul, sin­less, age­less, immor­tal, free from suf­fer­ing, hun­ger and thirst – its desire is true, its resolve is true.’

Is the small soul the city of the great Soul? Sep­ar­ately, or togeth­er? It would hardly be logic­al for the body to house the divine Spir­it, so how much more excit­ing that the human soul should be the home of the great Spir­it? How do they put it, the spark and the fire? Both burn, and in this they are one. The essence of the spark is fire, but the essence of fire is not the spark… Its desire is true – that is, it is true-desir­ing, desir­ing what is real. This can be none other than the small soul, for the great Spir­it is real­ity itself, so why would it desire itself? I think the desires of one who is true-desir­ing are no longer of this world. It can only be that these desires – if they can still be called desires at all – are turned towards ulti­mate real­ity. If one of them is true-desir­ing, or of true desire, then the other will be of true resolve, whose inten­tion always comes true. Whatever the one of true resolve decides is ful­filled without any spe­cial effort. Well, that is not me.

And as here on Earth all that man has won by his effort per­ishes, so too per­ishes all that he may gain in a bet­ter world in return for his sac­ri­fices. There­fore who­ever departs this world without hav­ing known the Spir­it, and without being true-desir­ing, will be free in no world. But who­ever departs this world hav­ing known the Spir­it, and being true-desir­ing, will be free in any world.

I believe, yes, I believe that the soul dwell­ing in the heart is over­taken by neither death nor cor­rup­tion. The wind of tempta­tion strikes it, but can­not rob it of its light. True-desir­ing, it is no longer deceived by illu­sion. And if it recog­nises God as well, then it becomes free. It does not chase the illu­sion of worldly exist­ence – how wise! It is not con­tent with the copy, it wants the ori­gin­al. Once it has given itself to the Truth, it no longer lives its own life, no longer lives for itself: I am yours… And from the eye of love not even God can hide: … and you are mine. An almighty God and his sur­rendered devotee – the two togeth­er are invin­cible. Per­haps it is in this sense that the mys­tic poet is right: ‘I know that without me God draws not a single breath, / And if I per­ish, his flame flick­ers out.’ (Angelus Silesius)