We are always surrounded—by climate and landscape, culture, tradition, and other people. At first, we simply encounter them; then we seek them out or flee from them; sleep through, recognize, and shape them. We do not necessarily realize—certainly not fully—that we are always part of the environments in which we live. Conversely, we experience the consequences of our existence on our environments only in very limited ways. Our times seem to call for us to become more aware of these influences and effects. We live in the Anthropocene.
In my meditative life, I intentionally connect with very specific content and forms. The nature of the inner practice—its motives, images, and words—stems from specific traditions or schools. Through inclination, choice, and attention, and then through concentration and contemplation, a connection arises that would not exist without my own inner activity. What takes shape in my consciousness as a result is individual, not universal or indeterminate. It cannot encompass everything, nor can it make such a claim; it is limited, even if it is directed toward the boundless.
In the anthroposophical tradition, mantric meditation plays a special role. The mantra—the sacred word, divine chant, or spiritual instrument—to which I turn and draw ever closer, forms a resonant body that I enter. Rudolf Steiner’s later mantric works are like a sound with which I can become one, while transforming myself without losing myself. The mantra becomes an inner environment. Within this mantric setting, tradition and the present moment, the finite and the infinite, consciousness and life, are no longer opposites.
Translation Laura Liska
Images Helen Comerford, The Nineteen
