If I write, I must be clear that I write about experiences rather than implanted ideas. To be honest, I have to admit that there is a longing in me to teach the ideas that I have explored from my studies of Anthroposophy. But they are all there for anyone to work through on there own. Digesting them for people would not be helpful in the long run. The work of ideation itself is what builds strength of mind. The subject matter of these thoughts builds the soul forces. It is the kind of ideas which I have pondered that have opened the eyes of my mind and soul. And these Ideas have attracted me because they ring a bell. It seems like the very same bell in me that was forged from those ideas eons ago in other incarnations and ex-carnations.
Just as I wade through the wafting air, I have a profound sense that Ideas too, are Ambient, that they exist around us, and manifest in the visible world for us to grasp. By thinking, I discover that they are my own Ideas. Yet I don’t claim them as exclusive intellectual property. How could I? They are alive!
For example, I look at the acacia tree which stands majestically both in front of me and in my minds eye: Underlying the profound complexity of the tree that stands in front of me is a living being which finds its expression in this place as this tree. This tree is no more a perfect expression of that living being than I am perfect in my attempts to express myself. We are brothers, both secretly urging our selves to be manifest more perfectly.
Ideas live and radiate from the sacred realm that the tree and I share profoundly with all of Creation. Veiled though we both may be, there is never-the-less, a lot revealed, if I just pay attention. Making sense of what I find standing immensely in front of me is a delicate interplay of grasping this specimen of acacia tree itself, in all its detail, and recognizing it in myself without prejudice. I have something in me that rings “Tree!” already. That is the Idea, the shadow of the tree that already lives in me. That Idea is an experience for me: My experience. It stirs my soul in recognition.
As an author, I can claim my experiences as my subject. What I experience, I feel I can write, not because the ideas are new, or mine, but because they have stirred newly again in me.