R.J.: How did you imagine God at that age?
S.H.N.: That is a pertinent question. I had two or three very important dreams which appeared very early in my life. I do not even know when it was. Maybe I was two or three years old. Among my very first memories is that I was falling from a great height and I was saved by the angels. The angels were very beautiful beings, very large, luminous beings. They picked me up in the middle of the air and told me that they would never let me fall, and, in fact, I have never had a really bad dream since, never had a terrible nightmare. I have also had several dreams of being in the Presence of God. I did not see God as a big, bearded man sitting on a throne or something like that, but it was always a sort of luminous Presence. I would use these two words, light presence, in relation to these experiences. I have also had an intense personal relationship with God. It has always been a strong direct relationship from the moment of childhood. I have always prayed to God, and I have felt that He always hears me and is always very close. I have never, however, had an anthropomorphic image of Him with two ears or two eyes. It has never been like that.
Seyyed Hossein Nasr with Ramin Jahanbegloo, In Search of the Sacred: A Conversation with Seyyed Hossein Nasr on His Life and Thought, p. 13
I'm continuing on the passage from yesterday, once again drawing from an interview with Hossein Nasr. In Search of the Sacred is a fascinating book, ranging from the most deliriously metaphysical discussions of God to what sports Nasr played at university. I love his discussion of his intense childhood dreams and the description of the presence of God (a decidedly non-anthropomorphic one). As I've said before my sense of God, both now and throughout my life, even if I didn't quite understand what I was feeling, is a quiet sense of the union of all things. It's difficult for me to even understand such an intense, immediate, utterly real sense of God. Again, people are wired very differently, and are some people simply constructed from birth with an ability to see the unseen that others don't possess? Nasr himself quotes that famous line from Rumi about how we each see the unseen in proportion to the clarity of our hearts. Some of that clearly comes from study and mental discipline, but I would think that some of us are simply born that way (we apologies to Lady Gaga). I'm also struck by Nasr's comfort in having this discussion. Even today, four years after my conversion, I'm uncomfortable discussing faith publicly (he said, on his blog - so clearly I'm getting more comfortable). A couple of long-time friends have essentially dropped out of my life, and I wonder if I've simply grown less interesting (which is saying a lot because I've never been particularly interesting) or even the little I discuss my faith is too much for them.
S.H.N.: That is a pertinent question. I had two or three very important dreams which appeared very early in my life. I do not even know when it was. Maybe I was two or three years old. Among my very first memories is that I was falling from a great height and I was saved by the angels. The angels were very beautiful beings, very large, luminous beings. They picked me up in the middle of the air and told me that they would never let me fall, and, in fact, I have never had a really bad dream since, never had a terrible nightmare. I have also had several dreams of being in the Presence of God. I did not see God as a big, bearded man sitting on a throne or something like that, but it was always a sort of luminous Presence. I would use these two words, light presence, in relation to these experiences. I have also had an intense personal relationship with God. It has always been a strong direct relationship from the moment of childhood. I have always prayed to God, and I have felt that He always hears me and is always very close. I have never, however, had an anthropomorphic image of Him with two ears or two eyes. It has never been like that.
Seyyed Hossein Nasr with Ramin Jahanbegloo, In Search of the Sacred: A Conversation with Seyyed Hossein Nasr on His Life and Thought, p. 13
I'm continuing on the passage from yesterday, once again drawing from an interview with Hossein Nasr. In Search of the Sacred is a fascinating book, ranging from the most deliriously metaphysical discussions of God to what sports Nasr played at university. I love his discussion of his intense childhood dreams and the description of the presence of God (a decidedly non-anthropomorphic one). As I've said before my sense of God, both now and throughout my life, even if I didn't quite understand what I was feeling, is a quiet sense of the union of all things. It's difficult for me to even understand such an intense, immediate, utterly real sense of God. Again, people are wired very differently, and are some people simply constructed from birth with an ability to see the unseen that others don't possess? Nasr himself quotes that famous line from Rumi about how we each see the unseen in proportion to the clarity of our hearts. Some of that clearly comes from study and mental discipline, but I would think that some of us are simply born that way (we apologies to Lady Gaga). I'm also struck by Nasr's comfort in having this discussion. Even today, four years after my conversion, I'm uncomfortable discussing faith publicly (he said, on his blog - so clearly I'm getting more comfortable). A couple of long-time friends have essentially dropped out of my life, and I wonder if I've simply grown less interesting (which is saying a lot because I've never been particularly interesting) or even the little I discuss my faith is too much for them.
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