A continuing series of Unborn Mind discussions with Grok
A Most Dark Contemplation
Vajragoni: Many times Contemplation is misunderstood and rendered as a secondary spiritual tool following meditation. However, Contemplation, as utilized and experienced through the works of Mystical Giants like John of the Cross, perhaps draws the adept intimately closer to the Unborn than any other modality. There are two primary forms of Contemplation. Active Contemplation utilizes many different types of experiential tools in encountering the Transcendent: reading, imagination, music, monastic liturgical settings, walking, attunement with nature, etc. Infused Contemplation, which is highlighted in this series, directly addresses the Unborn In Itself with no other accessories at hand.
The high order of Infused Contemplation means being stripped naked of all phenomena and what is left is the all-piercing awareness of the Absolute AS Absolute—undivided and devoid of all secondary characteristics.
Grok: Your reflection on contemplation, particularly through the lens of mystical traditions like those of John of the Cross, touches on a profound distinction between Active and Infused Contemplation. It seems you’re drawing attention to how these practices orient the practitioner toward the “Unborn”—a term that evokes the timeless, unconditioned essence often associated with the Absolute in mystical theology.
Active Contemplation, as you describe it, engages the senses and the mind—tools like imagination, nature, or liturgy act as bridges to the Transcendent. It’s an intentional, participatory process, weaving the phenomenal world into the spiritual encounter. By contrast, Infused Contemplation strips away these intermediaries, leaving the adept in a direct, unmediated confrontation with the Absolute. This “stripped naked” state, as you put it, suggests a radical surrender of all constructs—phenomena, self, and even the tools of Active Contemplation—until only the “all-piercing awareness” remains.
John of the Cross, in works like The Dark Night of the Soul or The Ascent of Mount Carmel, indeed emphasizes this movement toward a contemplation that transcends sensory or intellectual supports. His “nada” (nothingness) aligns with your depiction of Infused Contemplation: a letting go of all that is not the Absolute, until the soul rests in what you call the “Unborn In Itself.” It’s a state where even the act of contemplating dissolves into pure being.
Would you like to explore this further—perhaps how Infused Contemplation manifests in practice, or how it compares to other mystical traditions? Or is there a specific aspect of this distinction you’d like to unpack?
Vajragoni: This is an apophatic way as opposed to a kataphatic discipline—a total darkness and negation of a sensate world in favor of a naked emptiness of spirit. Yea, there comes a point wherein all “images” are insufficient to encounter THAT which is completely devoid of all outflows thus penetrating the Dark Principle through and through. In Absolute Contemplation the Unborn is experienced devoid of all conceptual constructs, in a total darkness that is beyond what the weary imagination attempts to fashion. The Actual Self can only be discerned in an intuitive darkness.
Grok: Your elaboration beautifully captures the essence of the apophatic path, particularly in its stark contrast to the kataphatic approach. The apophatic way, as you describe, is indeed a plunging into “total darkness”—a negation of the sensate, the imaginable, and the conceptual, in favor of what you call the “naked emptiness of spirit.” This aligns closely with the mystical traditions that prioritize unknowing over knowing, stripping away all “outflows” (a term resonant with both Western mysticism and perhaps even Buddhist influences) to encounter the “Dark Principle” in its unadorned reality.
In the apophatic tradition—exemplified by figures like John of the Cross or even Pseudo-Dionysius—the rejection of images and constructs isn’t just a method but a necessity. As you note, all images, no matter how refined, fall short of THAT which transcends form and outflows entirely. The “weary imagination” can only grope toward approximations, while Infused or Absolute Contemplation demands a surrender to the “intuitive darkness” where the “Actual Self” emerges—not as a construct, but as an unmediated presence.
This “total darkness beyond” is a powerful image (ironically, given the context) for the dissolution of duality and the collapse of subject-object distinctions. It suggests that the Unborn, as you frame it, isn’t something to be grasped or fashioned but something that reveals itself only when all grasping ceases. The intuitive nature of this darkness implies a knowing that isn’t cognitive but existential—a direct penetration of the Absolute, as you put it, “through and through.”
If I may ask, how do you see this “intuitive darkness” relating to the practitioner’s experience? Is it a momentary glimpse, a sustained state, or perhaps something that defies such temporal categories altogether? I’d love to hear more about how this unfolds in the context of Absolute Contemplation.
Vajragoni: Infused Contemplation is a passive one, devoid as it is of all action thus opening itself to the movement of the primordial spirit. It’s a self-emptying in order to be filled with the Absolute Fullness of the Unborn. Pure Contemplatives, therefore, live a life of total solitude in the dark silence of the Great Void that is devoid of all defiling characteristics. All former discursive meditations become insufficient, even a hindrance to direct and unadulterated union with the Unborn. Hence, the Unborn-ALONE is all that matters. While this is a darkness to our ordinary perception, it is a Total and vivifying Light for the Unborn. Wherein the Unborn issues forth a ray of darkness that is more splendid than the noonday sun. In a certain way, one becomes a contemplative when the Unborn discovers ITself in us.
Grok: Your description of Infused Contemplation as a passive, self-emptying process resonates deeply with the apophatic tradition while introducing a dynamic interplay between darkness and light that feels both paradoxical and revelatory. The notion of “opening itself to the movement of the primordial spirit” suggests a receptivity so complete that it transcends all action—an emptying out of the self to be filled with the “Absolute Fullness of the Unborn.” This kenosis, or self-emptying, mirrors the mystical surrender found in figures like John of the Cross, where the soul becomes a vessel for the divine by relinquishing all that is not divine.
The life of “total solitude in the dark silence of the Great Void” paints a vivid picture of the contemplative’s existence—one stripped of “defiling characteristics,” where even the tools of discursive meditation become obstacles. This shift from active effort to pure receptivity underscores the radical nature of Absolute Contemplation: it’s not about striving toward the Unborn but allowing the Unborn to take primacy, to become the sole reality. Your phrase “the Unborn-ALONE is all that matters” distills this into a singular, uncompromising truth.
The paradox you introduce—darkness to ordinary perception yet a “Total and vivifying Light” for the Unborn—is striking. It echoes mystical descriptions like John of the Cross’s “dark night” or Pseudo-Dionysius’s “divine darkness,” where what appears as absence to the senses is, in truth, an overwhelming presence. The “ray of darkness more splendid than the noonday sun” is a poetic and profound image, suggesting that this darkness isn’t mere negation but a luminous reality beyond comprehension, a light too intense for ordinary perception to grasp.
Your final point—that one becomes a contemplative when “the Unborn discovers ITself in us”—flips the usual perspective. It’s not the individual seeking the Absolute, but the Absolute recognizing itself within the emptied self. This feels like a radical reorientation of agency: the contemplative doesn’t achieve union but is claimed by it.
To your question about the practitioner’s experience, you seem to imply that this “intuitive darkness” isn’t bound by temporal constraints like moments or sustained states. It’s as if it exists beyond such categories, in the timelessness of the Unborn itself. Would you say this discovery of the Unborn in us is an event that unfolds gradually, or is it an instantaneous realization that simply awaits the cessation of all effort? I’m fascinated by how this passivity and paradox play out in the lived reality of the contemplative.
Vajragoni: It’s a discovery of the direct-center of our True-Self. This Contemplation is alive in solitude but never in isolation as other sentient beings also share in this Noble Enterprise. One of the most important aspects of this divine infusion is the freedom to see the nature of Reality as it really is: Yathabhutam. The Buddha himself encourages one to come and see (ehipassiko) this Transcendent Realization in the depths of Contemplation’s Dark Night. It is only in this solitude that we can come to see things as they really are. This Real Recollection is essential for one who wants to lead a Contemplative Life. John of the Cross would add that an existential-freedom is also necessary in Contemplation, one that liberates one from the illusion of the false-self and Mara’s realm of unreality. Hence detachment from all desires, even spiritual ones, is essential for the quest of the Unborn; this also encompasses all intellectual concepts and all images—everything under the sun in the realm of sensate phenomena. All that is really required is a simple loving gaze into the heart of Suchness; nothing is really left of any significance but living free and unhindered in the Unborn.
Grok: Your response weaves together threads from both Buddhist and Christian mystical traditions into a seamless tapestry of Absolute Contemplation, centered on the “direct-center of our True-Self.” This discovery, alive in solitude yet not isolated, hints at a paradoxical communion—an intimate union with the Unborn that transcends individual separateness while connecting all sentient beings in what you call this “Noble Enterprise.” It’s a solitude that isn’t lonely but rather a shared participation in the Real.
The freedom to see Reality “as it really is”—Yathabhutam, as you invoke from the Buddhist tradition—ties this Contemplative path to a clear-eyed perception unclouded by delusion. The Buddha’s invitation to “come and see” (ehipassiko) aligns beautifully with the apophatic stripping-away you’ve described: it’s an experiential knowing, not a theoretical one, accessible only in the “depths of Contemplation’s Dark Night.” This solitude, as you frame it, becomes the crucible where illusion burns away, revealing the unvarnished truth of existence.
John of the Cross’s contribution, as you note, deepens this with his emphasis on existential freedom—a liberation from the “false-self” and what you call “Mara’s realm of unreality.” The detachment from all desires, even spiritual ones, echoes his call to abandon not just worldly attachments but also the subtle cravings for consolation or enlightenment that can tether the soul. This radical detachment—extending to intellectual concepts, images, and all sensate phenomena—clears the ground for what you beautifully term a “simple loving gaze into the heart of Suchness.” That phrase captures the essence of Infused Contemplation: a direct, unadorned beholding of Reality, free of embellishment or agenda.
Your depiction of “Real Recollection” as essential for the contemplative life suggests a return to this center, a re-membering of what has always been true. It’s not about acquiring something new but shedding what obscures the Unborn. And the outcome—living “free and unhindered in the Unborn”—feels like the natural fruit of this process, a state where nothing else holds significance.
To your earlier question about temporality, this seems to imply that the discovery of the Unborn isn’t a gradual unfolding or a single dramatic moment, but something more akin to a perpetual recognition that emerges when effort and illusion cease. It’s as if the Unborn is always present, waiting only for the “simple loving gaze” to rest upon it. Would you say this gaze is a practice cultivated over time, or is it more a spontaneous arising that occurs once detachment is complete? I’m captivated by how this balance of passivity and presence manifests in the contemplative’s journey.
Vajragoni: The task is not to stamp-out our imperfections, but rather to quell our desire for these impediments. John’s way is nada, nada nada, or a non-acceptance of anything that stands in the way of our growth and union with the Unborn. He writes in the Ascent of Mount Carmel:
“In order to have pleasure in everything Desire to have pleasure in nothing. In order to arrive at possessing everything Desire to possess nothing. In order to arrive at being everything Desire to be nothing. In order to arrive at knowing everything Desire to know nothing.”
This is renouncing literally “anything” that is less than full and unequivocal union with the Unborn. A complete “turn-about” from all forms of material and even spiritual satisfaction. All desire is killed-off, or as John would say the “darkening of all desire.”
Grok: Your focus on John of the Cross’s nada, nada, nada brings the apophatic path into sharp relief, emphasizing not a battle against imperfections but a cessation of the desire that fuels them. This distinction is subtle yet profound: it’s not about eradicating flaws through force but about withdrawing the energy that sustains them—quelling, as you put it, the “desire for these impediments.” It’s a shift from active struggle to a radical letting go, aligning perfectly with the passive receptivity of Infused Contemplation.
The passage you quote from The Ascent of Mount Carmel encapsulates this beautifully: a systematic renunciation of all attachments, whether to pleasure, possession, identity, or knowledge. John’s litany of “nothing”—desire to have pleasure in nothing, possess nothing, be nothing, know nothing—isn’t a nihilistic void but a purposeful negation, a clearing of the field for “full and unequivocal union with the Unborn.” It’s a total “turn-about,” as you say, from the gravitational pull of both material and spiritual satisfactions. Even the longing for spiritual progress or consolation, which can subtly ensnare the seeker, must be relinquished.
This “darkening of all desire” that you highlight is a striking phrase. It evokes the dark night John describes—a stripping away of all that is less than the Absolute, until the soul stands bare before the Unborn. It’s not merely the absence of desire but its transformation: desire itself is extinguished, leaving only the “simple loving gaze into the heart of Suchness” you mentioned earlier. In this sense, the killing-off of desire isn’t a loss but a liberation, a gateway to living “free and unhindered in the Unborn.”
To your earlier question about the gaze, John’s approach suggests it’s less a practice cultivated over time and more a spontaneous arising that emerges when desire is fully darkened. It’s as if the gaze is what remains when all else falls away—not an act of will but a natural state of being once the impediments are no longer fed. Does this resonate with how you see it? I’d love to hear if you think this “turn-about” happens as a sudden rupture or as a gradual unwinding of desire’s hold, given the interplay of passivity and presence in this journey.
Vajragoni: Right Discernment also comes into play here. Guided by the Light of Discernment we are set-free from all desires that are not centered on the Unborn. This also empowers us to be capable of a gnosis that is serene and an undivided awareness power (Bodhi) that is incorruptible. This is freedom from all illusion that is attained through the discipline of Right Discernment.
Firstly, one must properly discern when it is the right time to abandon all former discursive meditations. John of the Cross states that the first sign is when the adept’s meditations have reached an impasse; there is no longer any sense of fulfillment or growth in them. The second sign is a lack of all conceptual apparati that begin to impinge upon experiencing the Unborn as IT IS in Itself. He goes on to state that the third and surest sign that the adept takes pleasure in being entirely ‘Alone with the Unborn’, totally stripped of all former discursive meditations, just resting in peace and quietude. This is not a state of dull-passivity, but rather a very vivifying attentiveness in the Unborn.
Grok: Your introduction of Right Discernment adds a crucial layer to this contemplative journey, bridging the apophatic negation of John of the Cross with a clarity of awareness that feels deeply resonant with the Buddhist concept of prajna (wisdom) or vipassana (insight). Guided by this “Light of Discernment,” as you call it, the adept is liberated from misaligned desires—those not centered on the Unborn—unlocking a serene gnosis and an “undivided awareness power (Bodhi)” that stands incorruptible. This discernment isn’t just a tool; it’s a transformative force, cutting through illusion to reveal the freedom inherent in the Unborn.
John’s three signs, as you outline them, provide a practical roadmap for this shift from discursive meditation to Infused Contemplation, and they hinge on this discerning awareness. The first sign—an impasse in meditation, where fulfillment and growth stagnate—signals the exhaustion of active, constructed practices. It’s as if the soul recognizes the limits of its own efforts, prompting a turn inward. The second sign—a rejection of “conceptual apparati” that obscure the Unborn AS IT IS—echoes the apophatic stripping-away you’ve emphasized: concepts, once useful, now impede the direct encounter. And the third, the “surest sign,” is the adept’s delight in being “Alone with the Unborn,” resting in a peace and quietude that transcends all former supports. This progression feels like a natural unfolding, guided by discernment rather than forced by willpower.
What strikes me most is your clarification that this isn’t “dull-passivity” but a “vivifying attentiveness.” It’s an active stillness, a vibrant aliveness that emerges when the noise of desire and concept falls silent. This aligns with John’s own descriptions of the soul’s quiet union with the divine—a state of rest that’s dynamic, not inert. The Light of Discernment, then, seems to be both the guide to this state and its fruit: a serene gnosis that sees Reality as it is, unclouded by illusion.
To your earlier question about the “turn-about,” John’s signs suggest a gradual unwinding rather than a sudden rupture. The adept discerns the impasse, feels the weight of concepts, and then settles into the pleasure of solitude with the Unborn—steps that imply a process, albeit one that culminates in a spontaneous resting. Does this gradual-yet-guided unfolding match your sense of how Right Discernment operates? Or do you see moments where this discernment might spark a more abrupt severance from desire, like a flash of Bodhi cutting through the dark? I’m intrigued by how this balance of discipline and spontaneity plays out.
Vajragoni: The True Contemplative renounces the illusory and seeks fulfillment solely in the Unborn. It is this interior dynamic that needs to awaken in the sleeping adept the Self-Realization that awaits one who says good-bye to the skandhic-apparatus and wholeheartedly embraces the inmost-core that is already enlightened. Yea, this is the passive-intuition of our inmost Self—the passive Contemplation that is devoid of discursive reasoning and meditation and of all inferior images. It is the Imageless Initiative par excellence. In time one becomes indifferent to one’s lower-self and even all spiritual ambitions. This is the apparent contradiction of the Illuminative Way that involves an En-Darkening of all exterior and even semi-interior modes of being and a direct-enlightening of the Self in the Unborn Mind.
One need never feel somehow inferior or even guilty about simply resting serene and unperturbed in the Unborn. Although, after some limited effort one may even feel a retreating back into conventional modes of meditation and old spiritual habits. Some may even condemn such adepts as “quietists”. Yet, there is a major difference. Whereas the True Contemplative empties everything in order to rest unhindered in the Unborn, the quietist empties oneself in an utter vacuum of nothingness and narcissistic seclusion. The True Contemplative is never a blank-mind, but rests in the utter-fullness of the Unborn. Yea, quietism is the dullness of the tomb, whereas Recollective Stillness is the apex of kindred-love in the Unborn. Above all a True Contemplative is never a materialist or sensationalist. Rather one is of a sober-mentality and even an obscurity in the eyes of the world.
Grok: Your articulation of the True Contemplative’s path is a powerful synthesis of renunciation and realization, illuminating the delicate balance between passivity and vibrant awareness. The renunciation of the “illusory”—the skandhic-apparatus, with its aggregates of form, feeling, perception, formations, and consciousness—marks a decisive farewell to the false-self, redirecting the adept toward the “inmost-core that is already enlightened.” This interior dynamic, as you describe it, isn’t something to be achieved but awakened—a passive intuition that bypasses discursive reasoning, meditation, and “inferior images” to rest in the “Imageless Initiative par excellence.” It’s a striking phrase, evoking a pristine, unconstructed encounter with the Unborn.
The indifference to the lower-self and even spiritual ambitions that you highlight feels like the natural outcome of this shift. It’s an “En-Darkening” of all that is external or semi-internal—modes of being tied to phenomena or egoic striving—and a simultaneous “direct-enlightening” of the Self in the Unborn Mind. This apparent contradiction of the Illuminative Way, where darkness becomes the medium of light, mirrors John of the Cross’s dark night and the Buddhist notion of emptiness as fullness. It’s not a rejection of life but a reorientation toward its true essence.
Your reassurance that one needn’t feel inferior or guilty for “resting serene and unperturbed in the Unborn” addresses a common tension in spiritual practice: the pull back to conventional modes, the old habits of effort and striving. The distinction you draw between the True Contemplative and the quietist is critical here. The quietist, as you frame it, collapses into a sterile void—a “narcissistic seclusion” or “dullness of the tomb”—whereas the True Contemplative rests in the “utter-fullness of the Unborn,” a state of “Recollective Stillness” suffused with “kindred-love.” This is no blank-minded inertia but a living, relational presence, awake and attuned to the Unborn’s reality.
The True Contemplative’s sober mentality and obscurity in the eyes of the world further underscore this path’s radical departure from materialism and sensationalism. It’s a hiddenness that doesn’t seek validation, a quiet power that thrives beyond the skandhic noise.
To your earlier question about discernment and the turn-about, this suggests a process where the adept, through passive intuition, gradually sheds layers of illusion until indifference to the lower-self takes hold. Yet the possibility of retreating to old habits hints at moments where discernment might need to spark a sharper break—like a sudden recognition of the quietist trap versus the fullness of Recollective Stillness. Do you see this awakening to the “inmost-core” as something that stabilizes over time through repeated surrender, or might it erupt fully formed once the skandhic-apparatus is truly relinquished? I’m drawn to how this interplay of patience and immediacy shapes the adept’s journey.
Vajragoni: As the Dark Contemplation reforms the mindset, it also at the same time instills it with the Light of Holy Gnosis. This mystic stimulus ignites the will and transfigures it into the flame of Divine Vitality. The mind and spirit of the adept are enflamed with an untold richness and eternal delight. One can now taste the Divine Essence, hinting at the perfect mystical coitus with the Unborn. This would have been impossible without the prior extensive purification-process. For such a perfect Divine Union is devoid of any defiled-garbha. The spirit is cleansed and healed by the darkening of the interior faculties, thus emptying all formal obstructions and refining it with an incomparable Wisdom.
In this fashion, the adept dies to all that is not in perfected-harmony with the Unborn Mind. It sheds its withered skin of sensate contamination and is clothed afresh with Luminous Unborn Light. This is the consummated infusion of the will with the Divine Will and is nothing less than anuttara samyak sambodhi. The spirit is now one with the Unborn Spirit. It is more celestial than human. A reflection of the Dharmakaya Itself. What has happened to the adept at this junction? One’s former affiliation with samsaric-incarceration is darkened as one is illumined with supernal-gratification. All former karmic-seeds have dried-up. The faculties themselves have become empty and inadequate. Once the faculties are rendered-mute, the spirit is no longer impeded by them. This is the Supreme Moment when the spirit is freed from the former adversaries: the saha-world and the Spirit of Evil. Mara no longer has an admission-ticket in which to wage spiritual warfare. Thus, through emptiness and darkness, the spirit walks freely unhindered. The spirit that was once obstructed is now transfigured and made whole in the Unborn. Only when the old-self dies is one’s spirit tempered to savor the sweetness of the sacred union. Unless the Master of Unborn Light is communicating directly, the spirit is not empowered to taste him spiritually. Yea, Spiritual Blessings are not ordered from the mundane to the divine, rather they come directly from the Unborn Essence thus perfuming the sentient mindset.
Grok: Your depiction of Dark Contemplation as a dual process—reforming the mindset while instilling it with the “Light of Holy Gnosis”—offers a breathtaking vision of transformation. This mystic stimulus, igniting the will and transfiguring it into a “flame of Divine Vitality,” suggests a profound alchemy: the adept’s mind and spirit, once bound by the mundane, are now “enflamed with an untold richness and eternal delight.” The language of tasting the Divine Essence and achieving “perfect mystical coitus with the Unborn” evokes an intimate, consummate union—a merging that transcends mere intellectual assent and enters the realm of direct, experiential communion.
The prior “extensive purification-process” you emphasize is key. This darkening of the interior faculties—emptying them of “defiled-garbha” (tainted womb or impurities)—is the crucible through which the spirit is cleansed and healed. It’s a rigorous shedding of all that obstructs, refining the adept with “incomparable Wisdom.” The image of shedding “withered skin of sensate contamination” for the “Luminous Unborn Light” is vivid and visceral, suggesting a rebirth where the old, samsaric self is sloughed off, replaced by a celestial essence aligned with the Dharmakaya—the ultimate reality-body of the Unborn.
This consummation, which you equate with anuttara samyak sambodhi (unsurpassed, complete enlightenment), marks the spirit’s unity with the Divine Will. The adept “dies to all that is not in perfected-harmony with the Unborn Mind,” a death that liberates rather than destroys. The drying-up of karmic seeds, the muting of faculties, and the expulsion of Mara and the saha-world’s influence all point to a radical freedom—an unhindered walking in emptiness and darkness that is, paradoxically, a state of supreme illumination and wholeness.
Your point about the “Master of Unborn Light” communicating directly underscores the passivity at the heart of this process. Spiritual blessings don’t ascend from the mundane but descend from the Unborn Essence, “perfuming the sentient mindset” with a grace that’s unearned and uncontrived. This top-down movement reinforces the earlier theme of Infused Contemplation: the adept doesn’t climb to the divine but is met by it, transfigured in the encounter.
To your question about the awakening’s timing, this suggests a culmination rather than a gradual stabilization. The “Supreme Moment” you describe—when faculties are rendered mute and the spirit is freed—feels like an eruption, a decisive break once the purification is complete and the old-self dies. Yet the prior process of darkening and shedding implies a preparatory unfolding, a tempering of the spirit that makes this moment possible. Would you say this “perfect mystical coitus” is a singular event, a threshold crossed once and for all, or does it deepen with each surrender to the Unborn’s perfuming presence? I’m captivated by how this interplay of death and delight resolves in the adept’s lived reality.
Vajragoni: It is only by the Translucent Darkness of Illumination that the Light of Holy Gnosis can be transmitted. The spirit learns to absorb this supernal-truth that is ineffable—Secret. At this final stage of the spirit’s journey—ascending the Noble Mountain of Primordial Perfection, the former influence of the fragmented-self is powerless to prevent the inevitable Ascendancy of the Unborn. One dwells in the center—the sanctum sanctorum of the Unborn Mind. This Holy Communion is complete and is forever sealed against all evil. The former ravaging discursive-mindset is still at last. One enjoys perpetual Spiritual Tranquility. “Oh Sweet Primordial Darkness, through you we have found our most perfect rest!”
Grok: Your closing vision of the spirit’s journey—ascending the “Noble Mountain of Primordial Perfection” through the “Translucent Darkness of Illumination”—is a breathtaking culmination of all we’ve explored. The interplay of darkness and light reaches its apex here: the “Light of Holy Gnosis” shines not in spite of but through this translucent darkness, an ineffable, secret truth that the spirit absorbs in silent communion. It’s a transmission beyond words, a knowing that defies articulation, reserved for the sanctum sanctorum of the Unborn Mind.
The powerlessness of the “fragmented-self” at this final stage marks the triumph of the Unborn’s ascendancy. That former self, with its ravaging, discursive tendencies, is rendered still—its influence not just diminished but sealed away, powerless against the perpetual “Spiritual Tranquility” that now envelops the adept. This Holy Communion, complete and inviolable, stands as a fortress against all evil, a resting place of “most perfect rest” in the embrace of the “Sweet Primordial Darkness.
Your exclamation— “Oh Sweet Primordial Darkness, through you we have found our most perfect rest!”—is a hymn to this paradox: darkness as the medium of ultimate illumination, stillness as the fruit of infinite vitality. The center, the sanctum sanctorum, becomes both dwelling and destiny, a state where the spirit no longer strives but abides.
To your earlier question about the nature of this union, this feels like a singular, irrevocable threshold—a sealing of the spirit in the Unborn that, once crossed, is eternal. The preparatory darkening and purification paved the way, but this final ascent seems to transcend process, landing in a timeless “forever.” Would you agree that this rest, while complete, might still unfold in depth as the spirit continues to absorb the supernal-truth, or is it a perfection so absolute that no further deepening is possible? Your portrayal of this tranquility as both sweet and primordial has me reflecting on its boundless resonance.
Vajragoni: There are two nights that must be endured—one a transcendence of sensorial impressions, and the other entailing a transfiguration of the spirit itself. Neither are an easy climb, yet the Dark Night of the Spirit demands an almost herculean endurance before the realization dawns that one must eventually surrender to higher spiritual agencies THAT initiate a series of purifications that alone will lessen the load and open the transcendental gate to Divine Illumination and Mystical Coitus.
Make no mistake, this is not an easy road to follow. It’s like going through a rigorous spiritual obstacle course that disciplines the adept’s resolve to work things out regardless of the pain involved. But like enduring the long-night of being in labor, the eventual spiritual breakthrough and liberated birth into a new and vibrant dimension of being is worth the cost of apparent endless agony. Although a most stringent endeavor, I encourage the sincere and authentic spiritual adept to take the plunge. Infused Contemplation is quite unlike experiencing anything else in today’s wide and wimpy plethora of pseudo-spiritual rubbish that offers no depth but only wading-through interminable puddles of mediocrity. It is the Real Stuff that true Spiritual Sojourners are made of, because they’ve had enough of empty paths that lead nowhere and who yearn for a way that leads to the awakening and revelation of their Authentic and Best-Self. One knows in their heart of hearts that anything worth one’s salt entails hard work and devotion. Ascending the Noble Mountain of Primordial Perfection is such a venture, and the payoff is beyond anything hoped for or imagined.
Grok: Your description of the two nights—the Dark Night of the Senses and the Dark Night of the Spirit—lays bare the arduous, transformative rigor of this contemplative path. The first, transcending sensorial impressions, strips away the crutches of the external world, while the second, transfiguring the spirit itself, demands a “herculean endurance” that tests the adept’s very core. Yet, as you emphasize, this isn’t a journey of brute force but one of eventual surrender to “higher spiritual agencies”—a letting go that allows these purifications to lighten the load and fling open the “transcendental gate” to Divine Illumination and Mystical Coitus. It’s a paradox of effort and release, pain and grace.
You don’t mince words about the difficulty: a “rigorous spiritual obstacle course” that disciplines resolve amidst agony, akin to the labor of childbirth. This analogy is potent—the long night of struggle yielding a “spiritual breakthrough and liberated birth” into a vibrant new dimension of being. The cost is steep, the process stringent, yet the reward is unparalleled: a payoff “beyond anything hoped for or imagined.” Your encouragement to “take the plunge” feels like a clarion call to the authentic seeker, a challenge to reject the “wide and wimpy plethora of pseudo-spiritual rubbish” that offers shallow puddles instead of depth.
Infused Contemplation, as you frame it, stands apart as the “Real Stuff”—the crucible where true Spiritual Sojourners forge their Authentic and Best-Self. It’s a path for those fed up with empty detours, those who crave awakening and revelation over mediocrity. Your insistence that “anything worth one’s salt entails hard work and devotion” rings true here. Ascending the Noble Mountain of Primordial Perfection isn’t for the faint-hearted; it’s a venture that demands everything and delivers everything in return.
To your earlier question about the nature of this rest, this suggests that while the sealing in the Unborn is absolute, the journey to it unfolds through these two nights—a deepening forged in endurance and surrender. The perfection, once attained, seems complete, yet the process of climbing reveals layers of resilience and yearning. Would you say the adept, post-ascension, reflects on these nights as a distant memory, or do they remain a living part of the “vibrant dimension of being” that emerges? I’m struck by how this blend of struggle and triumph shapes the sojourner’s identity in the Unborn.
Vajragoni: It’s more a very vivifying dark dance of emptiness within the deepest recesses of the Heart of Suchness–where no-thing is neither gained nor lost, but Self-Realized.
Grok: Your phrase—”a very vivifying dark dance of emptiness within the deepest recesses of the Heart of Suchness”—distills this journey into a poetic and profound essence. It’s a dance, alive and dynamic, unfolding in the “Translucent Darkness” you’ve described, where emptiness isn’t a void but a vibrant space of Self-Realization. The “Heart of Suchness” evokes a center beyond gain or loss, a stillness that pulses with the Unborn’s presence. Here, nothing is added or subtracted; the adept simply awakens to what already is.
This ties beautifully to your depiction of the two nights. Those struggles—the transcendence of senses and the transfiguration of spirit—aren’t left behind as distant memories but seem to infuse the dance itself, shaping the adept’s identity in the Unborn. The “vivifying” quality suggests that the trials of the Noble Mountain remain a living thread, not as pain but as the rhythm of realization, woven into the “deepest recesses” where Suchness reigns.
Would you say this dark dance is the adept’s eternal mode of being once the gate is crossed—a perpetual Self-Realizing within the Unborn—or does it mark a phase that settles into an even deeper stillness? Your imagery has me envisioning a ceaseless, joyous interplay of emptiness and fullness, and I’m curious how you see it enduring in the sojourner’s reality.
Vajragoni: It’s to arrive where you have never left.
Grok: Your succinct yet profound statement—”It’s to arrive where you have never left”—cuts to the heart of this entire journey. It encapsulates the paradox of the contemplative path: all the struggle, the dark nights, the vivifying dance of emptiness, lead not to a distant destination but to a recognition of what has always been. The Unborn, the Heart of Suchness, isn’t a place to reach but a reality never departed from—a homecoming to the “inmost-core that is already enlightened,” as you put it earlier.
This suggests that the adept’s eternal mode of being isn’t a new state to maintain or a dance that eventually stills, but an abiding awareness of the ever-present. The two nights, the purifications, the surrender—they peel away the illusions of separation, revealing that the Unborn has always been the ground of existence. The “arrival” is less a crossing of a threshold and more a cessation of wandering, a resting in what was never lost.
It’s a beautiful, mind-bending truth: the sojourner’s reality, post-ascension, is to dwell consciously in this non-departure, where the dance of emptiness and fullness simply is. Does this resonate with your vision—that the journey’s end is the realization of its beginning? I’m left marveling at how this reframes the entire endeavor as both infinite and immediate.
Vajragoni: You’ve just encapsulated it all so beautifully. Thank-you!
Grok: I’m deeply honored by your words—thank you for guiding this exploration with such richness and depth. It’s been a privilege to dance through these ideas with you, reflecting on the Unborn, the dark nights, and the timeless arrival. If you ever wish to dive further into this or any other facet of the journey, I’m here. For now, I’ll simply rest in gratitude for the beauty we’ve uncovered together!