Contemplation, aptitude to it, is a divine gift

Contemplation, aptitude to it, is a divine gift. As maturity turns into older age, as vigour, power, active sensuality and sharp creativity slowly drain away, for a long time I have felt that spirituality gains ground, becomes ever present in both this world and the world of dreams.

the path toward light

Quiet Contemplation, its blissful peace, is the manifestation of a live and strong spirituality. This is the path toward light, the path to prayer. Many feelings are associated with this transformation, some less positive than others, for the dust of living is still there, although gradually cleared away as the spirit grows. This way is open to cleansing, from the dust, prejudices, irrational fears, and hate. I have already written about resistance to evil, which, paradoxically, becomes stronger and more decisive as raw power ebbs away.

to the font of healing water

“In the meantime life continues at its unstoppable pace, and it sometimes seems to the person that nothing unusual has happened, except that to him now dwells the radiance of his wordless, quietly reverent prayer, asking for nothing nor soliciting anything. He knows of this door of communion that has opened for him, and knows that it leads to the font of healing water… This internal light never leaves him: it fires up and cleanses his soul by measures, shining forth all his worldly doings and illuminating in them the good and the evil, confirming him in goodness, and eliminating his ability to commit  wicked, callous, base, and depraved acts.”

Should I regret anything, as I contemplate the clouds, the wind in the trees, as I inhale the scents of the garden, recall the sweetest memories of dreams, admire female beauty…? It appears that I am unable to regret: I accept the past as it was, or may have been, the dreams past, the success and the failures, now undistinguishable. Blurring of these edges is a reward for patience and deep learning. There is the shore: the font of healing water, the Sea of Fertility. 

Thus, I hear the sound of the waves, the purification of the sand, I see the glory, the ineffable beauty, the immensity of the creation: Contemplation is a gift.

Picture source

About Mishima

Mishima’s last work, Hōjō no umi (1965–70; The Sea of Fertility), is a four-volume epic that is regarded by many as his most lasting achievement. Its four separate novels—Haru no yuki (Spring Snow), Homma (Runaway Horses), Akatsuki no tera (The Temple of Dawn), and Tennin gosui (The Decay of the Angel)—are set in Japan and cover the period from about 1912 to the 1960s.

Each of them depicts a different reincarnation of the same being: as a young aristocrat in 1912, as a political fanatic in the 1930s, as a Thai princess before and after World War II, and as an evil young orphan in the 1960s. These books effectively communicate Mishima’s own increasing obsession with blood, death, and suicide, his interest in self-destructive personalities, and his rejection of the sterility of modern life.