I believe that you seem to be getting off on some mythological idea that has long lost its meaning. These ideas need a structure and an internal logic, even if it is contradictory to what is contemporary today. Many of our religious sources have this internal logic but need interpretation in the modern world and can’t be taken at face value.
We have to remember that language is metaphoric by nature, and even scientists are using images, metaphors and symbols to describe what they discover. Stories are our best bet, but we have our focus on “realism,” which is hogwash. The stories we read are better than the stories we watch because they allow more imagination and are more diverse than anything Hollywood produces. The only thing you have to remember when you read a story is that when you put the book down, you are back in the world. Films have a habit of influencing young people to reproduce what they watch.
It is the same with any scripture on “the great invisible One.” When you have read it, put it down and return to the real world. Think about the content by all means, but in the same way that you would read any book. Meditate on it, contemplate, but remain mindful of the real world that presents itself to you.
What I have described is the real world and not just in a book. Everything is alive, only on different levels of conscious being. Everything is connected on some level. Morality is a conscious, perhaps even subconscious idea. Walls don’t view other walls as good or bad, they just are, this does not take away from the fact that they are too alive, just not conscious.
I may have been rash in my answer, and I can’t remember why I wrote the way I did, especially since your statement comes close to my observation of the world. I won’t blame anything or anyone else; we’re responsible for what we write, but I think there was some pressure that I was experiencing, so I apologise.
For me, the result of a late maturity but then an intensive study, first of all of the Bible, and then through all the subjects I learned during my late calling to nursing, was that I expanded my outlook and travelled. In particular, I travelled to the Far East, listened to other perspectives, visited holy places and came back with a feeling of awe at the holy simplicity with which the ineffable ground of being is approached. I meditated sitting overlooking the jungle, which came alive in a dynamic way that a casual look doesn’t reveal. I took part in Buddhist rituals and intensified my meditation at home, but I became increasingly alienated from the superficiality I found in Europe. Fortunately, I retired when the contradiction I faced became unbearable.
The immersive experience of teeming, creeping, and assertive life when in nature, contemplating the living soil that for many is just dirt, and listening to the wind, the trees and the rain, built on my childhood mystic experiences of gigantic storms in the middle of the sea in a tiny ferry. After a brief intermezzo, the impressionable child had become an impressionable adult. A strange apparition for modern times, familiar with death and infirmity, sensitive to the dying spirit, the frustrated heart, and the lonely. Too “deep” for people not prepared to enter the rabbit holes that conversations offered.
The “great invisible one” is all around, in all things, especially all life, and we are separated in our awareness for our own protection because we would otherwise unite with the vastness of that cosmic consciousness and shed our personae. But our experience of being as a self, whilst acknowledging our not being separate, is the vocation we have been called to. To investigate the details of sensual experience whilst learning about our oneness with it all is, I feel, the meaning of our existence. We contribute with our individual perspective to the experience of the One, with whom, if we are wise, we connect in meditation.