THE EERIE SILENCE OF BLANKET VIRGIN SNOW has a mystical clarion call to every man alive. Do you remember as a child how it would stun you into awe when you looked out of your bedroom window in the early morning? That deep sense of childhood wonderment is still with you, you know, I promise. London will never be mystical, but it can be dramatically quietened when the heavens descend in purity to make everybody finally stop and listen.

I wrote recently about why magnificent works of art, like Monet’s Waterlilies, are considered masterpieces. I explored the idea that if you are transported out of yourself as you contemplate something that is profoundly beautiful, although you don’t realise it, you are in in the awakened state. This does not happen with inferior art works – and I mean across all genres, music, etc. The artist captures the ineffable through his brush movements as he is guided into creating a canvas. Don’t forget how many canvases are discarded as the artist strives for perfection without knowing how it will be achieved. Equally, at the genius level of science, the work becomes an art form as all the great scientists have told us. God knows how many equations are scrawled out and notepads chucked when ‘workings in the margins’ produce zilch. But I repeat myself. That awakened state is the same as your awe looking out of your bedroom window at the ultimate purity of delicious, settled, little sparkling snowflakes lighting up your childhood world by introducing a new world vista, before you ran, late, for the school bus. My God, I remember it so well and so do you.

It is the silence, though, too. All the birds are quiet and the earth is devoid of noise, and then you instinctively reduce your inner activity to appreciate it all. I often speak of yogis in the mountains of the Himalayas who explore inner consciousness as they work their way through layers of conditioning onto ground zero using, imbibing (for sure!) local mushrooms brewed for you-know-why. But exploring inner consciousness has to be perceived by the ultimate knower – you – God, the subject without object. You are the creator of your world where anything ‘out there’ is known to be part of you. The immaculate emptiness that you are, in your pure, unadulterated state, is simply when you are silent and in awe, and to transcend the banal is NOT to permit the mind to shoot out and create something to avoid a nasty smell in life, but to accept it as it is: a smell and nothing more. That smell has arisen out of the same emptiness that you are – so you are the smell, if you forgive me. Let it be. It will arise and fall like everything else that you create in the world of imprecisely termed ‘objects’.

I realise this is more advanced enquiry, but don’t be put off by things that seem illogical. You all love unconditionally, even if you don’t feel that way about certain people. You can love a family pet, sweep it into your arms and feel ‘one’ with it. There you are – that is the sense of oneness spoken of in spiritual terms. It is more difficult with people because of our psychological conditionings, but never believe that you are not free already. 

I have on my desk a big pile of books which I am using to research my next book for you. I won’t tell you which ones because I’ll give the plot away! But I will tell you I plan to take you into the snow, and the metaphysical story will be based on my travels and to pinpoint the way to your own liberation. But, because I can’t keep a secret, I will tell you one of the publications is by William Blake (1757-1827), the metaphysical artist and poet. Did you know he was an awakened man? This is what is written on the back page:

[Blake] was an independent and rebellious thinker, who abhorred pretension and falsity in others. His Songs of Innocence are products of this innocent imagination untainted by worldliness, while Songs of Experience resulted from his feelings of indignation and pity for the sufferings of mankind. 

So, from a chilly London Town, with chicken broth on the stove, I leave you with this beautiful poem by Blake. I have italicised the phrase which will interest you from an awakening point of view.* I believe gentle pointing in the right direction using different and beautiful metaphors to lift you away from your daily noise, and by keeping a steady, even keel, we will get there. There is no external beauty – you are responding to your own! I promise you can find liberation through contemplation of beauty because that is the true essence of EmW.


I wander thro’ each charter’d street,

Near where the charter’d Thames does flow

And mark in every face I meet

Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every Man,

In every Infants cry of fear,

In every voice; in every ban,

The mind-forg’d manacles I hear

How the Chimney-sweepers cry

Every blackning Church appalls

And the hapless Soldiers sigh

Runs in blood down Palace walls

But most thro’ midnight streets I hear

How the youthful Harlots curse

Blasts the new-born Infants tear

and blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.

Songs of Experience, 1794


With love,


Selima Gurtler is a spiritual writer, philosopher, poet and Jnana yogi.

Her modern teachings to Self-Realization and Liberation are uniquely flavoured through the perceptive eyes of her Indian and European heritage.

Free copies of her books are available for download here:

His Holiness the Dalai Lama and His Grace Archbishop Desmond Tutu are patrons of her work.

  • All punctuation is correct.


Image from Pixaby:



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