Drawing Closer
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,” Rumi wrote, “there is a field. I’ll meet you there.”
A silent nod toward this lovely passage, a deep truth touched by the poets. And then we go about our day wondering why we feel so distant from everyone.
The impulse to close distance is one of our oldest. We lean across tables. We move our chairs a little closer. We reach out, literally and figuratively, as though the gap between us is a matter of geography. As though we could get there from here.
Which raises an uncomfortable question. What if reaching is the problem?
Not because closeness is wrong to want. Nor attempts at bridging the perceived gap. Rather, the subtle confirmation that there is a me, over here, and a you, over there, and a distance between us that needs crossing. Every gesture of approach, however loving, re-draws the map of separation.
We might sense this and try the opposite - detachment, equanimity, a kind of performed oneness. But that is simply the same belief wearing different clothes. We are still assuming two, now pretending the distance doesn’t bother us.
As A Course in Miracles teaches, the separation is not a fact about reality. It is a thought. A misperception. And misperceptions don’t need to be overcome but seen.
This is where our practice begins. Catching the moment when attention has been drawn into the story of me, here, reaching toward you, there. And then, resting gently in the awareness that noticed it. That awareness is Rumi’s field. It was never divided. It never moved. It requires no journey.
It’s not about drawing closer. It’s recognizing we never left.
Join me in Thursday’s class where we’ll explore this quiet shift from seeking to seeing, and discover the presence that was never actually absent. I look forward to seeing you then.