FUGUE

Until I open this profoundly reflective book on the cause of the causes of the unfolding global catastrophe and how the contemplative’s spiritual life may save us, I was unaware of the dual meaning of the word fugue: musically, it is a contrapuntal composition where the subject is introduced by one part and successively taken up by others and developed by interweaving the parts; psychologically, it means loss of awareness of one’s identity, often coupled with flight from one’s usual environment. The tone is set by the famous Yeats poem entitled The Second Coming and containing the resonant and prophetic lines “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, the blood-dimmed to tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned; the best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.”

If this was true prior to October 7, it is all the more so now though, like Kees van der Pijl, I think there is evidence that we are being kept in a state of semi-contrived anxiety and emergency – COVID, war, climate change - to make us more receptive to centralised authoritarian solutions, which I regard as retrogressive. The section titles convey the tone: addiction, abyss, centre, ‘fearlove’: a duet, life, rights, death, liberation, epiphany, seeing, surrender, service, spirituality. The book begins with an apology to future generations, and argues that the cause of causes is in fact a spiritual crisis at the very heart of what it is to be human, including institutional structures ‘that demand order and control, imitation and conformity.’ Few still believe in the possibility of heaven on earth ‘as an expression of soulful, expansive, connected, creative and compassionate living.’ (p. 22) What we need, writes Stephen, is not so much a change of mind as a change of heart, a profound shift in our level of awareness, a renewed vision of the human and a deepening of relationships.

His position is that we are already in the throes of collapse, requiring deep adaptation and holistic ways of thinking. He draws inspiration from Etty Hillesum, whose memoir I reviewed in April and who ‘took the field against hatred.’ She and others like Dietrich Bonhoeffer were able to remain ‘centred in the timeless and intangible, yet real and present,’ as we can also do in the midst of crisis if we have developed some inner resources. In the abyss of suffering, deconstruction and devastation, we may find grace. I agree that it is vital for as many people as possible to connect with the Centre, ‘whose restored presence in full awareness may yet restore us to a foundation that fosters the healing of the world.’ (p. 52) We require ‘Trust, deep trust. Action without attachment. Repose in movement. Doing yet not the doer. Being yet crafting. Humility.’ (p. 56) We have little control over outer circumstances, but we are capable of determining our attitude and values.

Our disconnection is not only from the Centre, but also from the Earth and each other, yet both science and spirituality point to deep interconnectedness and interdependence. Instead, we are connected to media that fragment our attention and manipulate our perceptions. Stephen shares a profound analysis of violence as one response to powerlessness in the face of attack; he sees it as fear made solid, palpable, while its opposite is Love, which we do not take seriously – this is in part due to the dominance of patriarchal values and lack of investment in what Riane Eisler calls partnership modes. Indeed, I see existing structures of wealth and therefore power as the greatest challenge to overcome, as their representatives believe in the primacy of the technical fix rather than root and branch regeneration and reconfiguration of existing corrupted systems. Stephen characterises the downside with 10 D’s: distraction, doomerism, depression, denial, destruction, death, disease, delusion, despotism, disconnection – all with their opposite attributes. (p. 84)

His hope and witness are ‘grounded in the certainty of the reality of the Centre that holds.’ New visions and new stories matter because ‘a future has to be dreamed before it can come into being.’ Hence the proliferation of non-governmental transformative initiatives around the planet such as our recent Great Upshift; and it is becoming increasingly obvious that the real revolution of awakening and love will have to come from the grassroots. We should not expect to be delivered by governments, institutions or ‘the organised lovelessness that is capitalism.’ We each have to take our own responsibility to connect, to join, to initiate, to transform. Contemplatives seek not escape, but rather deeper engagement: ‘full loving awareness is our best witness and source of action.’ (p. 124) Stephen provides much wise guidance, orientation and action steps (p. 152), constantly reminding the reader of the connection between inner and outer, whereby the experience of unity consciousness inevitably gives rise to compassionate service. We can all recognise these inspiring words: ‘Our longing is for connection, our expression is compassion, our desire is for justice, and our intention is for healing.’ (p. 164) A transformative book to work alongside.