A Hole in a Flute

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Guest Post by David Rivinus

“I am a hole in a flute that the Christ’s breath moves through; listen to this music!” 

That quote, from the 14^th Century Persian mystic and sage, Muhammad Hafiz, is one of my all-time favorites. His poetic reference to Spirit being “the Christ’s breath,” and his admonition to open ourselves to the sound current by “listening to this music” never ceases to move me; the imagery is exquisite. 

He is describing the ultimate act of surrender, and I find myself basking in his wisdom, doing my best to become that “hole in a flute” and act conscientiously on the will of the Divine. 

Yet, just about the time I feel as if I’m really centered in a way that he would approve of, I am jolted back into the present moment…because there is a paradox!

Perhaps the best-known adage describing the alternative perspective is attributed to Benjamin Franklin, who is thought first to have coined the adage, “God helps those who help themselves.” 

Certainly, both points of view are represented in just about every religious and spiritual teaching. And the self-help gurus, from Neville Goddard all the way to Joe Dispenza, advocate both approaches.

So, which one is it: If I have a task to complete, do I surrender by “listening to the music”? Or do I assert myself and know that God will be there to help me?

Yes, yes, I know! I can do both at once; I can set a course of action and then surrender it to Spirit, listening for guidance as I go along, receptive to any corrections that might be offered. 

For me, that has always meant a game of Push-Me-Pull-You as I tried to conscientiously reconcile both approaches: Let’s see. I’m not sure exactly how to implement this wonderful idea I have, so, should I go into meditation and wait for instructions? Or should I act on what I think might be right and listen for any tweaking that might come from the Divine? Gee! It’s going along well; let’s implement it with abandon! But wait! I’m not listening to Spirit; I’m doing this on my own.

This is a conversation I have had with myself far more often than I would care to admit. And central to the dilemma has always been an inner knowing that I was missing something much bigger than the seeming contradiction between these two approaches.

The answer finally came courtesy of my dream work—so often a source of learning for me. It involved an understanding that has come from working specifically with the waking dream. 

Deepak Chopra said, “Look into the mirror of the world, and you will see only yourself.” This is the idea that we can’t really see the world objectively; what we see is a representation of a consciousness we, ourselves, project at any given moment.

If we are angry or disgruntled, that will be played out, metaphorically, in a waking-dream-skit taking place in front of our noses. Alternatively, if we engage the world from a state of peace and loving understanding, that’s what we will have graphically presented to us in return. As I like to tell my dream classes, “Whatever you perceive, is you.”

From this understanding, over time I have learned that it is not what we do that impacts the world; it’s who we are. Would I like to see more love, understanding and cooperation around me? Then I should enter the world from the highest state of consciousness I can manifest. It doesn’t matter if I’m a social worker, a dishwasher, or unhoused. I will witness my love reflected back to me by those I come into contact with; it’s a form of meditation…and it’s universal law.

It is also the Muhammad Hafiz part of this seeming paradox. Concentrating on achieving the highest state of consciousness one can manifest is the same as being “a hole in a flute that the Christ’s breath moves through.”

Now: What task have I given myself? Do I need to run a business? Weed a garden? Wash a wriggly golden retriever puppy? It makes no difference. The task is secondary to the consciousness. If I scrub a floor from the highest state of love, I will change the world. If I join the task force and picket line of every noble cause in existence, but do it from a state of anger, I will achieve far less of significance.

I am involved in the civic affairs of my community. I deal with many people having varied and often contradictory perspectives on life. These days, when I have a task to do, I go at it assertively, knowing that “God will help me because I am helping myself.” But I always try remembering that it’s not the doing but the being that counts most. I am by no means expert or even consistent in this regard. But I try. 

And, I have been successful frequently enough that there has been a noticeable improvement in the cooperation of my civic team. It’s not that my ideas are extraordinary, or that I conjure some sort of mesmerism on people. No. It’s just that I try to remember before anything—and after everything—to be a hole in a flute.

The author of the book Always Dreaming, David Rivinus has been teaching and facilitating classes and seminars on metaphysical topics for several decades. His specialty is dream interpretation, and he offers group and individual sessions both online and in his home town on the Oregon coast. He can be reached at [email protected].