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It is in the nature of group work that the loss of understanding in any one of its members impacts the rest, especially since we have shared with them our intimate observations and challenges…

One of Darsha’s routine checkups alarmed her doctors. Her vital signs were more abnormal than expected. She was rushed through a series of more thorough tests and these showed even more concerning results. After consulting specialists in the field, the physician returned to deliver the news: Darsha’s end was near.

Last week, twenty six BePeriod students gathered in Northern Italy to study Esoteric Christianity. Traces of this ancient teaching can still be found in the mosaic decorations of the churches of Ravenna. But these mosaics were never meant to be studied academically…

“As the substance took effect,” he recounted, “I saw myself locked in a repetitive cycle of events. I could perceive that everything kept happening to me over and over again and always in the same way. And somehow, this large-scale repetition was rooted in the briefest unit of time; every breath contained the battle of awakening—to wake up or to sleep—a battle enacted from the beginning of time.”

Last weekend, I gathered together a group of readers from this mailing list who live in the vicinity of Mexico City. Their acquaintance with The Old New Method permitted us to jump right into a focused discussion.

Older people who meet this work often wonder whether it is worthwhile starting. The journey seems so long and there is so much to learn. They fear their habits are ingrained and doubt whether they have enough time and stamina to alter them.

I once attended a gathering where many of the people there had been involved in this work for decades. Most of them were in their 60’s, 70’s and 80’s. The host asked whether anyone had recently made a noteworthy observation they wanted to share. The question wasn’t trivial; familiarity dampens the spirit of discovery so crucial for motivating daily efforts. The longer one remains involved in this work, the more challenging it becomes to keep the ideas fresh.

In my case, bumping into the idea of self-remembering was like bumping into an old friend with whom one had lost contact for decades…

There is a particular type of ungratifying waiting unique to the terminally ill. In most other kinds of waiting, the burden of having to wait is at least lightened by the expectation of a worthwhile future reward, or at least a resolution. But for the terminally ill, waiting represents just another installment towards the infinitely greater price of dying.