The Cry Of The Divided Mind (Η κραυγή του διχασμένου νου)

-From the Meletic Scrolls.

In the Meletic understanding of human experience, there exists a moment that is piercing and penetrable, when the mind cries out from within. This cry is not born from sheer anguish or delusion, but from apparent division. It is the cry of the self when it has become fragmented, no longer centred around the awareness of (To Ένa) the One. It is the certain cry that echoes when the soul feels adrift from its origin, and when the nous (intellect) and the logos (rationality) cease to cooperate in the service of the truth.

This cry is an unmistakable sign, not of weakness, but of awareness. It signals a fundamental shift in the state of consciousness, a plea from within the being for reorientation. Thus, to a Meletic, this cry is personal.

The nous, the intuitive and contemplative faculty of the human being is closest in likeness to the light of To Ena. It does not speak in syllogisms or deductions, but in quiet recognitions and inner vision. When the nous is attuned, it sees through the veil of appearances and perceives the genuine essence of essential things, yet in a divided mind, the nous becomes disrupted. Its clarity is obstructed by restlessness, desire, and the weight of worldly anxieties. It turns outwards instead of inwards, searching for wholeness in fragments of substance.

Meanwhile, the logos, which is the rational and discursive faculty becomes overburdened. In its purest form, the logos offers structure and understanding. It is the logos that allows us to evaluate, to discern, to build coherent arguments and to live ethically within the world, but when estranged from the nous, it turns cold. The logos becomes mechanical, defensive, fixated on efficiency, power or pride. It speaks with precision but lacks soul. It may still solve problems, but it cannot recognise the truth.

This schism between the nous and the logos produces a state of imbalance in the mind. A person may be intellectually capable, even admired, yet inwardly torn. That person may accomplish much, yet feel empty, being surrounded with stimulation, yet feel totally disconnected. The cry begins quietly, as a tension beneath the surface of daily life. It may grow into fatigue, into confusion, into despair, but in meleticism, this moment is not the end; for it is the beginning.

To hear the cry is to awaken. Many people never do. They live by the momentum of habit and cultural expectation, but the one who hears it who stops, who feels the dissonance between their inner world and the truth that has lost touch with that person is on the threshold of actual transformation.

This transformation begins with stillness. In silence, the logos is inspired to contemplate. It no longer needs to argue or defend. In silence, the nous begins to stir. It is through meditation, through the practice of returning to the centre that the divided faculties can be reconciled, not through force, but through immediate presence. The cry must not be silenced; it must be listened to and be honoured.

Meletic meditation is not an escape from the world, but a return to the centre of being. It is a conscious engagement with the present moment, with the breath, with the awareness of the self as both body and soul. When one meditates, the nous begins to see again. It remembers the enlightening path. The logos, freed from the burden of having to define everything, begins to serve the nous, aligning thought with inner truth.

Virtue is the vehicle of integration. Temperance teaches us to resist the excesses that scatter our attention. Fortitude helps us endure the discomfort of growth. Reason purifies the logos, allowing it to discern truth from illusion. Perseverance keeps us on the path when ease tempts us to abandon it. Wisdom aligns action with understanding, and humbleness empties the ego so that the nous can shine through.

When these Meletic virtues are practiced, the cry of the divided mind becomes something else. It becomes a guide. It becomes a teacher. One no longer fears the disquietude, for it is understood as the soul’s yearning for unity. The Meletic does not seek to eliminate suffering, but to comprehend it. Suffering is a passage. Discomfort is a crossroad. The cry is a call to remember.

To Ena is not a deity that punishes or rewards. It is the unifying essence that underlies all existential things. The cry of the divided mind arises when we forget this oneness and become entangled in separateness from others, from nature, from our deeper self. The logos, left alone, builds walls. The nous, neglected, dims. The cry remains as a trace of what was lost, and what can be regained.

Many people will ask the question is peace possible? Yes. But not as a permanent state of comfort. Peace, in Meleticism, is the harmony of internal elements. It is the natural rhythm of being when the faculties are attuned to each other and to To Ena. It is not the absence of motion, but the right kind of motion that flows from the centre.

The cry becomes a melody.

Not a melody of pleasure or of shallow joy, but a melody of wholeness. The nous and the logos move together. The body is treated with great care as the vessel of awareness. The soul remembers its true origin. Action becomes deliberate. Speech becomes meaningful, and even in sorrow, there is understanding.

To live this way is not to escape the world. The Meletics does not reject society but engage it with the utmost clarity. They walk amongst others, speak plainly, do good, and remain inwardly still. They do not impose, but they illuminate. Their life becomes the answer to the cry.

For those still in division, the Meletic offers this counsel. Do not be afraid of the cry. Do not cover it with noise, with distraction, with pride. Be still. Listen. Return. Begin with breath, with silence, with the small practices that bring the self back to itself in that realisation. We should trust that the harmony we seek is not somewhere else; it is already within, waiting to be uncovered.

This uncovering is the essence of Meleticism. Not the acquisition of beliefs, but the return to being. Not the pursuit of status, but the cultivation of awareness. Not the conquest of the world, but the reconciliation of the self.

When the cry arises and one will greet it. Thank it. Follow it inwards. There one will find the memory of To Ena, the light of the nous, the clarity of the logos, and the quiet joy of being whole.

What becomes of the cry when the divided mind is not merely aware of its fracture, but begins to contemplate reconciliation? In Meleticism, this reconciliation is not the obliteration of distinction but a deep dialogue between the logos and the nous, each respecting the contours of the other.

Meletic thought teaches that what seems irrational may instead be transrational, beyond the scope of the logos but not contrary to it. The nous, guided by a deeper rhythm and the memory of the mind, does not seek to oppose logos, but to uplift it, to inform it with the breadth of meaning that only inner insight can bring.

To live with a divided mind is not an error; instead, it is a stage. To remain in that division, to let it manifest into contradiction or despair is a moral fault; a failure to listen to the whole of one’s being. When we listen only to the calculating logos or only to the visionary nous, we risk fragmentation. Meletic practice encourages us to become mediators of our own soul, to become philosophers of our own awareness.

As the cry of the divided mind resounds, we are given the choice to deepen our listening and to be attentive. This cry is not a defeat; it is a summons. For in that exact pain of division lies the latent capacity for unity. The soul that recognises its division is already on the path of mending. It is already approaching the tranquil awareness that both the logos and the nous are channels of one conscious stream, reflecting different lights of To Ena.

Thus, in the stillness that follows the cry, the Meletics do not silence the parts of themselves, but bring them into conversation. Here, meditation becomes more than practice; it becomes a space where the fragmented mind begins to hum as one instrument, attuned to the symphony of being.

The echoes of the cry of the divided mind begin to fade away, and through the path of enlightenment, our minds are strengthened enough with the light of reason. It is not a silent prayer, but a vibrant awakening of life. Thus, we are not reborn; we are enlightened.

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