I like to begin each day in what I call “the Golden World.” One day, some years ago, I sat down and tried to describe it. It’s not easy to describe, since, like everything else, it’s indescribable. Here’s what I cam up with (slightly revised):
THE GOLDEN WORLD
where is the golden world?
it’s right here
what is it?
it’s a place of quiet joy
a place where everything is miraculous
i know i’m in the golden world
when there is nowhere i would rather be
the golden world is paradise
not the paradise that existed long ago
or the paradise that is yet to come
but this one
to get to the golden world
one thing that sometimes helps
is to slow down
rushing around
trying to get somewhere else
we fail to appreciate where we are
when this ordinary world is alive for us
with beauty, with joy, with love, with peace
we are in the golden world
this ordinary world is the golden world
transformed by a shift in the way we see it
or feel it
one of the most astonishing things about us
is our ability to take things for granted
we get used to trees, to the sky, to birds
to each other
to ourselves
to life as we live it
we are just here a little while
we better wake up right now
we are always in the golden world
but when we imagine it is somewhere else
we feel that we are in exile
hoping we will somehow improve
wishing things were different
we miss the blessings we have
the blessings of who we are
a goldfinch doesn’t imagine that it can improve
there is suffering within us and around us
the remedy for the suffering within us is close at hand
as for the big world
it is always simultaneously full of great suffering
and great beauty
if we do not live in quiet joy
in beauty, in truth
in freedom, in love—
what i am calling the golden world—
we cannot transform the suffering
of course, some suffering is built into the world
we are mortal creatures
disease and death are inevitable
but there is gratuitous suffering
we create through our ignorance,
our hatred, our anger, our fear
if we imagine we have an enemy
we are always at war
our inner conflict is the source of much outer conflict
wars begin in the minds of men
there is a stillness
in which there is no conflict
we can live there
or here
in the golden world
the peace which passeth understanding
is our birthright
maybe we forgot
got lost
it’s time to remember
to come home
to the golden world
we are born into the golden world
we learn to understand and to speak a language
it’s an astonishing thing!
we create an identity, a story about who we are
we create a mythos, a story about the world in which we live
these are fantastic achievements!
but, alas!, these stories become the prisons in which we live
we take everything new and turn it into something old
we don’t live in the world
we live inside our descriptions of the world
we are fictional characters
living in fictional worlds
that we imagine into being, from moment to moment
the golden world is this ordinary world
not mediated by thought or language
we touch it all the time
whenever we take a sip of tea
and are not doing anything but taking a sip of tea
we are in the golden world
a quiet setting makes it easier for us to experience the golden world
but when the stillness is strong within us
the whole noisy world is golden
when thought and language are our tools
rather than our masters
they are a blessing
not a curse
when meditation is not just something we do for half-an-hour in the morning
when we live in meditation
we live in the golden world
we are always in the golden world
whether we know it or not
the place we’ve always wanted to get to
is where we are
that which is not born
and does not die
is who we are
in the golden world
there is nothing to strive for
no regret
all our sins are washed away
the golden world is not an imaginary place
the world described in the newspaper is an imaginary place
the golden world is never somewhere else
it is always right now where we are
or not at all
when you are in it
you are not
when you can’t see it
you are blind
when the poet said
“each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy”
he was in it
and when he said
“Divine am I inside and out,
and I make holy whatever I touch
or am touch’d from”
he was in it
when another poet felt that he “was blessed
and could bless”
he was in it
another poet clarified the matter when she said:
“The Infinite a sudden Guest
Has been assumed to be–
But how can that stupendous come
Which never went away?”
you can’t get to the golden world by trying to go there
when you are not trying to go somewhere
not trying to do something
not trying to be someone
you might find that you are in the golden world
when i’m in it, i think
“this is my home
i must never allow myself to lose this
even for a moment”
then, later, it’s gone
did i leave the golden world?
or did it leave me?
i find myself in exile
and want to return
i know that that wanting condemns me to exile
and so i seek to find my way home by a kind of indirection
instead of doing something
i do nothing
when the mind is quiet and alert
it doesn’t matter whether “i” am in the golden world or not
the question doesn’t arise
or if it does
it is seen for what it is
the squirrel outside, sitting on a branch
has no ideas about a golden world
and so it lives in the golden world
“the golden world” is a name i give to something
that has no name
to have an identity is to be in exile
am i in the golden world?
or is the golden world in me?
behind each person’s mask
shines a radiant, glorious, perfect being
beneath who we pretend to be
is who we are
at those moments when we see through everyone’s mask
we are in the golden world
when we see through someone’s mask
it is impossible not to love them
for this to be paradise
we have to love everyone
without love, it isn’t paradise
when where we are
and where we want to be
are the same place
we are in the golden world
the seer sees the golden world
the seeker seeks the golden world
the seeker asks: where is it?
the seer replies: where isn’t it?
this is it
you want a miracle?
the poet said:
“a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels”
if that is so
where can you find something that is not miraculous?
there has never been
is not now
and will never be
anything more perfect
more beautiful
more miraculous
than a glass of water
there are miracles everywhere you look
the eyes with which you see
are miraculous
our brains, nervous systems
our heart’s pumping blood
miracles!
that we are alive
and aware
in this world of marvels
is a great blessing
—Johnny Stallings