Every day, the philosophical and theological constructs of yesterday, yesterday's palaces which provided everything you needed, are tattered and ruined. You walk through halls and amphitheatres which yesterday accommodated feasts and festivals, and everyone is gone, but long gone: it has been centuries since anything living has seen what you now see: a dying red sun barely lifting itself just above the horizon. Who you are, what the point is, where the past has gone, what the future will bring: all of the answers to these questions have been re-zeroed, and all you're aware of is desolation, emptiness, and mild threat. You might try to rationalise this by pointing to circumstances, but these are the screen onto which these are projected. The moment-by-moment rebooting of the universe is most apparent after the soul's absence overnight, during which the universe has been rebooted countless times. A night is really an aeon, and the soul has been gone for countless ages. The soul is returned to the body, and the feeling of displacement and loss does not mean that there is now something wrong with the soul: this, too, is projection. The soul is perfect and intact. Rather, it finds itself in an entirely new universe, for which it is utterly unequipped, and each new universe needs to be re-addressed from scratch. Our place in it needs to be re-rediscovered, or, rather, found for the first time, with no trace of pattern left over from yesterday. We re-find our place in an almost endless series of universes, stacked one on another like glass discs, through which one can stare to discern the past or future but see little because of the distortion created by the almost infinite superposition. This is why the past and the future are inscrutable: the apparent patterns are an artefact of the point of view, not a representation of reality, like constellations of stars, which, in reality have no special spatial relationship with each other. No, each universe must be viewed separately. Remove the disc from the stack and hold it up against the light.
At this point, there are multiple options. You could numb out with a combination of routine, sensory overload, and mind chatter. This is the usual human response: the individual does not understand what has happened, and the primordial terror of daily rebirth triggers these avoidance mechanisms.
An alternative: seek out our place in the universe, day by day, not by figuring it out, but by seeking God's will for us today. The tasks of the day are sufficient for us to find our place in the cosmic mechanism and therefore our purpose. The trust is this: the fact that we discern God's will is doing the dishes or making a phone call is sufficient prima facie evidence that these tasks are indeed God's will. No more is needed. We can choose only from the available options. The apparently best available option is indeed the best option, if it is the best apparent option. Its ranking is sufficient to confer on it the status of 'God's will'. If God wanted to reveal more, He would have. So what is revealed is enough.
It is important to enter the day with a completely empty mind, hand, and heart. Take no philosophy or theology from the day before. It was not meant for today. Any scrap of philosophy or theology from the day before which serves today's purposes will be re-introduced as necessary. It need not be sought out or artificially imposed. Don't eat yesterday's meal today. Don't wear yesterday's clothes today.
So what practical procedure can be followed? One aspect of continuity is general method and procedure. The physical world, at least at its tangible, evident level of manifestation, follows rules that are functionally the same as those that applied yesterday. The same applies to the spiritual navigation method. The content varies from day to day. But the method can be relied on.
Start with the emptiness. Do not furnish it with elements from yesterday. Start with a completely open mind. Do not be distracted by a dejected or fretful emotional state or by the fragments of thoughts with which these are associated. They have no reality or meaning. They are artefacts of being at the starting line, yet again. Apply your morning spiritual routines, lightly, being careful both in the evening and the morning to avoid worry, remorse, and morbid reflection. If you are instantly inspired regarding today's relationship with God and today's place in the universe and, by extension, today's tasks, this is all to the good. But if you are not: fear not. In particular, if you are overwhelmed by the Greek chorus of mind chatter, muttering, or sighing, there are a number of restoratives. Read standard morning prayers from your tradition. Traditional liturgies contain a lot of wisdom. If the doctrine or dogma does not appeal, do not feel you are not allowed to access the spiritual content. Take what helps and keep what does not on the shelf. Don't argue with or attempt to disprove or destroy what doesn't jive: just shelve it. It's merely not for you or not for today. Listen to or play music. Get in touch with nature. Read a spiritual book, listen to a spiritual tape, watch a spiritual video.
Do not start with the material world. Start with your relationship with God and your true place in the universe. The material does not matter per se. The body does not matter per se. Circumstances do no matter per se. You and I are soul and spirit. No more, no less. We are infinite and eternal. Having established this, we go into the world, to imbue it with the heavenly. We take the experience of connection with God and suffuse every action and every aspect of the material life with the ethereal. The water makes the desert bloom. We're the water carriers.
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