PERSONAL SYMBOLS IN EVERYDAY LIFE Odd, I've noticed that the past week or so, I've seen a lot of deaf people signing, as I've walked in various public places. I'm talking, maybe, one a few days ago, then a couple of them signing to one another yesterday somewhere, and four teenagers signing and laughing amongst themselves at a study table at the local public library this afternoon. It's unusual because I can't recall seeing any people signing in public, at least for a number of years. Like lots of thingsnearly everythingI don't know what it "means". It's all during the week of Baba's Birthday, and perhaps one could say it's Him, gesturing, saying "I'm right here." *** I remember years ago a time when I was drawn to a scurvy old abandoned cement shack on a beach near Santa Barbara, with God Knew what vibes, and graffiti all over it. I somehow felt it was like a mansion, and practically wanted to move in. I suppose that was the state of my soul in those days. (Hint: it was during my psychedelic period in the late '60s.) Some time after that, I became aware of construction scaffolds and re-building, wherever I saw them. Like my eyes were magnetically drawn to them as a symbol of what my spirit was going throughin fact, like they were illumined before my eyes. That felt nice, I felt BABA was strongly at work withinsimilar refurbishing going on in me. And around then I got the first, and quite wonderful, Sufi Choir (this was the Vilayat Khan group) recordit was around '76and, among the other fine songs was one that put to music these lines from W.B. Yeats that I still remember, and that expressed the archetype of rebuilding active within me: "A house that stood Since childhood Uninhabited, ruined, Suddenly lit up from within."* The house, of course, being the Soul. These symbols are like dream symbols in the "waking" world of Illusion. I've often wished my life were always so clear that the archetypes of my current inner state were obvious to me in the outer world. They're probably always there, but so often my life, for one reason or another, for months, even years at a time, has had a muddied quality where nothing was obvious except God's felt absence. Which, I suppose, created the longing that would eventually bring back (the feeling of) His Presence. Ah, well, that's the best I've been able to do, this lifetime. ******* * Here is the whole poem these lines are from: CRAZY JANE ON GOD By William Butler Yeats That lover of a night Came when he would, Went in the dawning light Whether I would or no; Men come, men go; All things remain in God. Banners choke the sky; Men-at-arms tread; Armoured horses neigh In the narrow pass: All things remain in God. Before their eyes a house That from childhood stood Uninhabited, ruinous, Suddenly lit up From door to top: All things remain in God. I had wild Jack for a lover; Though like a road That men pass over My body makes no moan But sings on: All things remain in God.