The Logos: The Meletic Testament (Chapter 39 The Henosis)
Lorient Montaner
đź“ś Chapter 39: The Henosis
1. I did not seek To Ena, the One as a distant truth, but as the silent presence already woven into my natural breath. For it is the Henosis of which I seek to reach in life. It is the connection with the influence of To Ena.
2. The Henosis is not solely a reaching of the mind, body and soul—it is a remembering, a falling inwards into the essence that has never been apart from us.
3. Beneath the olive canopy, I sat not to pray, but to dissolve, to let thought unravel into pure awareness in the mind.
4. To Ena is not above nor beyond—it is the ground beneath all becoming, the stillness beneath all motion known.
5. In the quietude between thoughts, I felt the contours of separation soften, and the whole of existence lean internally.
6. The Henosis is not an actual moment to capture—it is a state of being, where the self no longer stands opposite the world, but within it.
7. I did not ascend with the body—I ceased to divide, and in that cessation, I became the undivided soul.
8. The wind did not speak, yet I understood, for its movement was my own, and its silence my origin.
9. To Ena is not a mere concept—it is the pulse behind all pulses, the rhythm that precedes identity in a man.
10. I closed my eyes, and the boundary between skin and sky dissolved into a single field of being.
11. The Henosis is not a divine union with a supreme god—it is the realisation that To Ena exists beyond the concept of creation.
12. I did not find To Ena—I uncovered it, layer by layer, beneath the illusions of form and name.
13. The olive leaves shimmered not with light, but with knowing, as if they too had tasted the undivided soul.
14. In stillness, I did not observe the world—I became it, without edge, within the centre of my oneness.
15. The Henosis is the end of seeking, for it reveals that the seeker was never separate from the mind, body and soul.
16. I did not meditate to escape—I meditated to return, to the place where return is no longer needed.
17. To Ena does not speak in words—it permeates, like warmth through stone, like breath through silence.
18. I was not merely enlightened—I was emptied, and in that emptiness, fullness emerged.
19. The Henosis is not a sacre light—it is the absence of shadow, the clarity that comes when division ceases.
20. I did not transcend—I integrated, and in that integration, I vanished into wholeness.
21. The sky did not open wide—it was always open, and I had simply stopped closing my eyes.
22. To Ena is not a divine revelation—it is the condition beneath all, and the origin of longing itself.
23. I did not become reborn—I became real, and in reality, I found no need for divinity.
24. The Henosis is not a merging—it is the recognition that merging implies two, and there is only one.
25. I did not dissolve into the cosmos—I recognised that I had never been apart from it.
26. The breath I took was not mine—it was the breath of the olive tree, the mountain, the sea.
27. The Henosis is the undoing of identity, not to erase the self, but to reveal its true nature as the whole.
28. I did not merely contemplate To Ena—I became the contemplation, and the contemplator vanished.
29. The stones beneath me did not speak in a voice I knew, yet I understood their silence as my own.
30. To Ena is not a presence—it is presence itself, the condition in which all things appear.
31. I did not awaken—I ceased to sleep, and in that cessation, the world unfolded without boundary.
32. The Henosis is not merely a path—it is the absence of distance, the realisation that all paths begin and end within the soul.
33. I did not seek the truth—I became the space in which the truth arises and dissolves.
34. The olive grove did not surround me—I was the grove, and the grove was me at the moment in time.
35. The Henosis is not merely a state of mind—it is the stillness beneath all states that is achieved through awareness.
36. I did not become wise—I became silent, and in silence, wisdom emerged unbidden.
37. To Ena is not hidden—it is obscured only by the veil of separation we weave with thought.
38. I did not reach for the stars—I became the sky, and the stars were no longer distant.
39. The Henosis is not solely a union of parts—it is the recognition that the mind, body and soul are one in thought.
40. I did not lose myself—I lost the idea of myself, and what remained was indivisible.
41. The wind did not pass through me—I was the wind, and the passing was an illusion.
42. To Ena is not a divine being—it is being itself, the condition of all that is and is not. That which become from what is.
43. I did not become fragmented in the soul—I realised I had never been broken into pieces.
44. The Henosis is not a sacred revelation—it is the quiet undoing of all that obscures the obvious.
45. I did not merely find inner peace—I ceased to resist, and peace emerged as the natural state.
46. The olive tree did not teach me—it stood, and in its standing, I remembered who I was.
47. The Henosis is not a gift or a blessing in life—it is the inheritance of all who cease to divide.
48. I did not become one with the world through the body—I ceased to be apart from it.
49. The sky did not descend into the soul—I rose into it, not as a body, but as awareness.
50. To Ena is not the end—it is the beginning that never began, the source without origin.
51. The union which is the Henosis is not a meeting of two—it is the vanishing of twoness into one.
52. I did not enter To Ena through the body alone; I ceased to exit it with the mind and soul.
53. The boundary between the body and To Ena softened, then gradually disappeared.
54. I was not absorbed afterwards—I was revealed through the process of the Henosis.
55. The Henosis is not a mere fusion—it is a recognition: all things are already joined.
56. The olive tree did not greet me as I arrived—it remembered me as its own essential limb.
57. I did not become the sea that is vast and open—I remembered I had never been land.
58. The Henosis is not a mere process that evolved—it is the stillness beneath all becoming.
59. I did not dissolve into matter—I was never distinct enough to require dissolving.
60. The wind blowing did not carry me forth—I was the movement, the breath and the air.
61. The Henosis is not transcendence—it is intimacy so complete that distance cannot arise.
62. I did not merge with the emerging cosmos—I ceased to imagine I was apart from its presence.
63. The sky did not open wide for me—I stopped ignoring that it was existential in its nature.
64. The Henosis is not a climax in time—it is the quiet absence of division between the mind, body and soul.
65. I did not lose myself in the process—I lost the illusion of possession and of fear within me.
66. The mountain did not rise before me suddenly—it rose within me, and I within it.
67. The Henosis is not merely a state—it is the condition of all states, untouched and eternal.
68. I did not become distinctive in my connectin—I saw that wholeness had never left.
69. The stars did not shine upon me then as a revelation—they shone as me, and I as perceived them.
70. The Henosis is not a mere joining of the mind, body and soul—it is the undoing of separation’s dream.
71. I did not awaken to the Holy Spirit—I was always awake, beneath the veil of forgetting and unawareness.
72. The river did not flow beside me—it flowed through me, as me. It embodied me.
73. The Henosis is not something owned—it is the inheritance of all who cease to grasp its nature.
74. I did not reach To Ena—I stopped reaching, and To Ena remained in my thoughts and in my soul.
75. I realised that the Henosis was not a moment in time to be captured—it was the timelessness in which all moments arise.
76. I did not enter the grove seeking miracles—the grove entered me, and neither remained.
77. The Henosis is not a blending of a divine will—it is the absence of edges and divinity.
78. I did not become the world as I imagined before—I only ceased to be apart from it.
79. The unannounced silence between thoughts was not empty—it was complete and lasing.
80. The Henosis is not merely a place where the body meets the mind and soul—it is the undoing of departure.
81. I did not touch To Ena—I ceased to be the hand that defined its appearance in life.
82. The breath I drew was not mine—it was the rhythm of all things breathing together.
83. To Ena is not a collapse—it is the recognition that nothing stood apart to begin with.
84. I did not dissolve in the body—I was never distinct enough to require dissolving.
85. The light did not shine upon me as I pondered—it shone through my soul afterwards.
86. The Henosis is not a mere vision—it is the clarity that remains when seeing ends.
87. I did not become still in the mind—I discovered that movement had never left stillness.
88. The olive branch did not sway for me—it swayed as me, in the wind that was also me.
89. The Henosis is not a return of the body—it is the realisation that leaving was only imagined.
90. I did not become only aware of things in life—I ceased to divide awareness from what is.
91. The earth did not hold me—I was the holding, the weight, the ground that stood beneath me.
92. The Henosis is not merely a merging—it is the falling away of the illusion of parts.
93. I did not become instant light then—I ceased to cast the shadow of doubt before me.
94. The stars did not make a sound—they remained silent, and in that silence, I heard everything.
95. The Henosis is not merely a harmony of nature—it is the absence of discord’s premise.
96. I did not become merely astray—I remembered that wholeness had never been lost.
97. My mind did not stop to reconcile the body with the mind and soul—I stopped imagining they were not closed.
98. The Henosis is not a state—it is the condition beneath all states, untouched and eternal.
99. I did not merely attempt to connect with To Ena—I sought its influence, and To Ena remained.
100. The Henosis is not something unattainable—it is the opposite; it is attainable in life.
101. It is not a thought—it is the condition in which thought dissolves into our knowledge.
102. Through this union, I understood the world clearly—I became its understanding.
103. The currents that flowed in the river—they pulsed within, as memory older than time.
104. The Henosis is not a metaphor expressed—it is a part of the structure of reality, unveiled.
105. I did not only observe nature with my eyes—I felt its pulse as my own heartbeat.
106. The cosmos did not surround me—it unfolded from within, seamless and whole.
107. The Henosis is not a retreat—it is immersion into the fabric of all that is existential.
108. I did not contemplate the concept of unity—I became the field in which all things are joined.
109. The soil beneath me did not hold me—it recognised me as its own echo resounding.
110. The Henosis is not a mere silence—it is the harmony of all voices speaking as one, through the mind, body and soul.
111. I did not find an ephemeral connection—I discovered that separation had never occurred.
112. The wind did not pass unannouncedly—it lingered, as if remembering itself through me.
113. The Henosis is not a falsehood—it is the lifting of veils that were never truly drawn.
114. I did not merely become part of the whole—I saw that I had always been the whole, appearing as a part.
115. The clouds above did not disperse—they stood, and I stood with them, indistinguishably.
116. The Henosis is not a philosophy—it is the living truth that precedes all thought.
117. I did not learn the unity of beings—I felt it, as my breath shared across the different forms of existence.
118. The sea did not flow past me—it flowed through all things, and I was its rising tides.
119. The Henosis is not a mere abstraction—it is the feeling of the reality of interbeing.
120. I did not only become aware of the cosmos—I became the awareness in which it moved.
121. The lone tree did not grow beside me—it grew as me, and I as with its maturation.
122. The Henosis is not a gateway—it is the ground beneath all gates, the space through which all paths converge.
123. I did not touch the unity of existence—I ceased to be the hand, and unity remained.
124. To Ena did not arrive as a god would—it had never departed me. It was always there.
125. The Henosis is not the end of seeking—it is the end of the seeker, and the beginning of all things known as one.
126. As a man of philosophy, I once feared the limits of flesh—the Henosis taught me that boundaries are illusions drawn by thought.
127. I did not escape my body—I inhabited it fully, and found the cosmos breathing through my skin.
128. The union did not make me more than human—it made me truly human, without division.
129. I walked the streets of Athens no differently, yet everything I touched was part of me.
130. The Henosis did not lift me from the world—it lowered me into its depths, until I could no longer tell where I ended.
131. I did not lose my name—I simply saw that it was one of many waves in the sea of being.
132. The olive oil on my hands, the dust on my sandals, the laughter of children—all were threads in the same tapestry.
133. The Henosis did not erase my suffering—it revealed it as shared, as woven into the whole.
134. I did not become wiser with only thought—I became tender, for I saw myself in every face.
135. The bread I broke was not mine—it was the body of the earth, and I was its mouth.
136. The Henosis did not grant me power—it dissolved the need for power, for there was nothing left to conquer.
137. I did not rise above death—I saw it as a folding back into To Ena, no different than breath returning to the air.
138. The aches in my bones, the wear of years—they were not burdens, but reminders of my place in the cycle.
139. The Henosis did not make me eternal—it made eternity present in every passing moment.
140. I did not cease to age—I ceased to resist it, and in that surrender, I found peace.
141. The tears I shed were not mine alone—they belonged to the sea, to the sky, to all who have ever wept.
142. The Henosis did not make me divine—it made divinity irrelevant, for what need is there for gods when all is one?
143. I did not become perfect in the mind, body and soul—I became whole, and wholeness includes every flaw.
144. The connection that I felt was not directed—it radiated, without aim, like sunlight through olive leaves.
145. The Henosis did not give me answers—it dissolved the questions, and left only presence.
146. I did not transcend my humanity—I embraced it, and found To Ena pulsing in every heartbeat.
147. The silence I carried was not that of emptiness—it was fullness too vast for words.
148. The Henosis did not change the world—it changed the way I saw, and in that seeing, the world was reborn.
149. I did not become Heromenes the sage—I remained Heromenes the man, but I walked without separation.
150. And in that walking, I knew: To Ena had never been elsewhere—it had always been here, beneath my feet.
151. In the hush before dawn, I feel the breath of the cosmos stirring the olive branches.
152. The olive branches do not communicate in words, yet their silence teaches me more than any scroll.
153. I have ceased to chase meaning—now I listen, and meaning arrives like a birdsong.
154. The wind through the cypress is not separate from me—it carries my thoughts to the horizon.
155. I no longer ask the cosmos for answers; I offer it my presence, and that is enough.
156. The river does not resist its course—I too have learnt to flow naturally in my thoughts.
157. In the stillness of the dusk, I feel the pulse of To Ena in the soil beneath my feet.
158. The cosmos is not above me—it is within, unfolding with each breath I take in my life.
159. I do not fear the night that proceeds—it is the womb of stars, the cradle of renewal.
160. The cicadas chant the unity I once sought in temples, and have discovered in the grove.
161. I have touched the bark of ancient trees and felt the memory of the world afterwards.
162. The moon does not demand worship—it invites wonder, and I have answered with my presence.
163. I walk slowly now due to age, but from reverence I have learnt that my soul is never far behind.
164. To Ena is not a place in the heavens—it is the path, the dust, the echo of my footsteps.
165. I have learnt that nature does not need to explain everything about life—it reveals instead life.
166. The cosmos does not judge me for my actions—it simply exists, and I have learnt to be with it.
167. My thoughts no longer seek the dominion of the body—they seek the harmony of the soul.
168. I have seen the presence of the Logos in the curve of a snail’s shell, in the laughter of rain.
169. The seasons do not argue—they turn, and I turn with them, as I witnessed their beauty.
170. I do not cling to permanence—the Henosis taught me that change is the signature of To Ena.
171. The fire in my hearth is no less essential than the fire that blazing in the speed of chariots.
172. I have learnt to speak less, and listen more with my awareness—to stones, to shadows or to silence.
173. The cosmos is not a puzzle to solve with theories or concepts—it is a song to join in its existential nature.
174. I do not seek to leave a legacy behind—I seek to leave no trace, like wind through the wheat.
175. When I return to the earth, I shall not mourn—I shall rejoice, for I shall return to To Ena, as I always have.
176. Peace did not arrive with thunder—it came softly, like dew settling on morning leaves.
177. I once searched for serenity in temples and texts, but found it in the stillness between thoughts not in scriptures or traditions.
178. To Ena does not demand calmness—it reveals it, when I cease to grasp with my uncertainty.
179. I have learnt to sit with my silence, and in its innermost depth, I am then whole.
180. The world no longer pulls me apart as before—I rest in its rhythm, undisturbed.
181. My heart no longer races towards finding answers—it beats in time with the stars.
182. I do not resist the lingering sorrow—it passes through me like wind through reeds.
183. The peace I sought was never hidden in a place—it was veiled by my own striving.
184. I have ceased to measure my worth only with actions—To Ena holds me without condition.
185. The quietude within me is not emptiness—it is the fullness of all things reconciled.
186. I do not fear the unknown—it is the cradle of wonder, and I am cradled within it.
187. My breath no longer fights the present moment in time—it joins it, and I am carried.
188. I have made internal peace with impermanence—it is the revelation of To Ena.
189. The ache of longing has softened into the presence that gives me life and breath.
190. I do not seek to be a part of man's history—I seek to be at peace, even in forgetting.
191. The cosmos does not rush like the chariots—it unfolds, and I have learnt to unfold with it.
192. I no longer chase the illusions of grandeur—I have embraced the humbleness in me.
193. To Ena does not reside in the nothingness—it manifests in the cosmos, nature and reality.
194. I have laid down my manifold burdens—not to escape, but to walk freely from their influence.
195. The inner peace I hold is not mine alone—it is the certain echo of unity within me.
196. I do not cling to joy as a reward in life—it visits, and I welcome it like an old friend.
197. My soul no longer trembles like the beast—it rests, knowing it is part of the whole.
198. I have found not merely the way of the truth—but as well, the quiet truth of being, which is reflected in my human nature.
199. And in this quietude that I experience, I am not alone—I am guided by To Ena, always.
200. So I close my eyes—not to sleep, but to dwell in the peace that has always been mine. Knowing that I haved discovered who I truly am as a man. My mind, my body and my soul are the witnesses of To Ena.
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