A Resolve Was Made

But when this befell me, my fathers also were ware of it, and grieved for me and a proclamation was published in our kingdom, that all should meet at our doors. And then the kings of Parthia and they that bare office and the great ones of the East made a resolve concerning me, that I should not be left in Egypt, and the princes wrote unto me signifying thus and every noble signed his name to it.

Though my soul was numb, I had forgotten my mission, and through my actions had sworn allegiance to an alien king, my true kin had not forgotten me. They were aware. Their consciousness was inclusive of mine, but not mine of theirs. 

I was a bud not yet flowering, held in icy sleep of a winter of the soul. The Source from which I came decided to send some warmth my way. Action was taken.

Lost

And I put on their raiment, lest I should seem strange, as one that had come from without to recover the pearl; and lest the Egyptians should awake the serpent against me. But, I know not by what occasion, they learned that I was not of their country. And with guile they mingled for me a deceit, and I tasted of their food. And I knew no more that I was a king's son, and I became a servant unto their king. And I forgot also the pearl for which my fathers had sent me, and by means of the heaviness of their food I fell into a deep sleep.

I, of course, had my reasons for betraying my true self. My justifications. My excuses. Others might think that I had to recover the pearl. I could not stand up and say I was doing so. I was afraid they would wake the serpent. I did not know that now the serpent was awake within me. He was already doing a good job of guarding the pearl. 

I blame it all on them, on the people around me. I say they deceived me but I deceived myself. I ate their food. Now I had not only their external appearance but internally as well. I had become them. I forgot the pearl. I forgot my mission. I forgot my ancestors. I became a walker in my sleep. A virtual zombie. Like all others around me.

alienation

And I set forth by the quickest way to the serpent, and by his hole I abode watching for him to slumber and sleep, that I might take my pearl from him. And forasmuch as I was alone I made mine aspect strange, and appeared as an alien to my people.

I go about my business. But I make my first mistake. I go directly to the serpent rather than directly to the pearl. My eyes are fixed on him and not the pearl. I sit by HIS hole. I wait for HIM to sleep. I want to take the pearl from HIM.  I would learn later, through the trials of experience, that whatever I attend to, I become. I watched him carefully.

Rather than be who I am, a child of the Source with Goodness and Mercy in my heart, I changed my appearance. My second mistake. I camouflaged myself to fit in. My true kin would not recognize me as that which I was becoming.

Later I would learn that these "mistakes" were part of the journey of going "down." I went through the metamorphosis of becoming all things. Excruciating. On the space-time cross of existence. I would need the pearl to see me through. 

On the Road

And I came out of the East by a road difficult and fearful, with two guides and I was untried in travelling by it. But when I entered into Egypt, the guides left me which had journeyed with me.

Two guides came with me to show me the way. Strong and knowledgable, they showed me the way while walking beside me, keeping me company so though the path was fearful, I knew no fear. My mentors, they knew I knew nothing. Their names are Goodness and Mercy.

When we reached our destination, they left me. I had to complete the journey on my own. I had learned their ways, however, and their influence stayed with me, deep within my heart. 

personal note (safe landing)

I landed safely, in the womb of a 17 year old girl just out of high school. She was an innocent as was I. We each would find our way through Egypt.

She gave me warmth and comfort. She gave me her milk. She gave me the smell of wet and then sun-dried clothes as I sat in the grass and watched her work the clothes pins. She gave me security. Later she taught me the difference between d and b. I learned to read early.

She taught me to pray for everyone every night. She taught me to end these prayers with "Guide me through the starry night" instead of "If i should die before I wake."

I loved her and I love her still.

Mission

"If thou go down into Egypt, and bring back thence the one pearl which is there (in the midst of the sea) girt about by the devouring serpent thou shalt put on again the garment set with gems, and that robe which is thereon and become with thy brother that is next unto us an heir in our kingdom."

Great adventure! I am excited. I have a mission, a purpose. Only later will I understand what "down" means. At this moment I see only that it is a direction. I do not realize that it is also a state of being. How could I? I have never been "down" before. I did not realize that my current state of complete nurturance was a continuous state of "up."

Egypt? Some strange land which contained a pearl guarded by a serpent. Devouring? What did the serpent eat?

All I had to do was get the pearl and come back. Piece of cake! After all my brother had done it. I would prove myself. Then I would get a hero's welcome and take my rightful place as an heir in the kingdom.

I did not know what I was getting into.

Covenant

"And they made a covenant with me, and inscribed it on mine understanding, that I should not forget it, and said:"

They care for me. They do not send me on my journey without the embedded understanding of my Origin. This understanding is produced by a covenant, a meeting and merging of our minds. An agreement. We are agreeable to and with each other and shall always be. 

They knew what I would face. The covenant I would take with me was not written on a document external to me or at my periphery, but was inscribed, written deep within me, tattooed within the depth of my being, at the core of my soul. 

I may become distracted or entranced by the seductions and hazards of my journey but my agreement is here, indelible, speaking to me, letting me know from whence I came and my mission and my purpose.

First Step Toward Forgetfulness

"And they armed me with adamant (which breaks iron) and they took off from me the garment set with gems, spangled with gold, which they had made for me because they loved me, and the robe that was yellow in hue, made for my stature."

The garment of love is removed. The robe that fit me perfectly is no longer mine to wear. Instead I am given hardness. I am being fitted for exile, for leaving (ex) the soil (ile) of my native birth. Armed with an adamantine will, I am now capable of breaking through the iron will of those I encounter, those who want to capture me and make me into an image of their own.

personal note (death is birth, birth is death)

I did not want to leave but they said I must go. I had everything I wanted, floating in this amniotic fluid. Weightless, every need answered immediately. Hooked to greater life with an umbilical cord. Paradise. Then they said I must go. They said I would see light, experience heaviness. I said no. They said yes. I went.

Now I have become accustomed to this light and heaviness. They say you must go. Once again a death. They say it is birth. I do not want to go. Yet I know what they say is true. Once again I must go alone.

Provisioned and Sent

“When I was an infant child in the palace of my Father and resting in the wealth and luxury of my nurturers, out of the East, our native country, my parents provisioned me and sent me.

And of the wealth of those their treasures they put together a load both great and light, that I might carry it alone."

The beginning of exile. I am just a child but I must leave, as have all before me. I must go and become someone. This womb is too small. Though I have everything I cannot stay here. My Source, the one who births me, knows this, provisions me for my journey, gives me that which will sustain me in my journey.

My burden is light, light which will allow me to see. It is also great, heavy, for what I will see can bring me down. Light which bears me up; great which brings me down. This is the only way I can become someone. Spiritual isometrics.

No one else can bear my load. I must carry it alone. I am in charge of my own light. I am in charge of my own heaviness. 

Footnote

The Hymn of the Soul is a much loved story of exile and return. Its author is Bardaisan (bar: son of; daisan: leaping river), Son of the Leaping River, (154 - 222 CE). He was named for the turbulent river in his town of birth, Edessa, in what is now Turkey. Skilled in the martial arts (one person observed him outlining with his shot arrows the face of a friend holding up a shield), an unorthodox Christian (he taught that one member of the Trinity is Feminine), a poet, a philosopher, and author of a multitude of books, he was a true Warrior of Spirit. We have only excerpts from his books, preserved in the writings of others. The Hymn of the Soul, existing in its entirety, has been faithfully handed down to us for over 18 centuries.

Moving Out of Is

Arthur Young says that we don't know what the present moment is until it is over. In other words, we live in the unknown, in Is. Is contains all possibility. One form of exile is to move out of Is. We step aside from the flowing stream of Is and make ourselves into something. Only through this exile can we become. This exile is a place of fashion, of fashioning ourselves into some thing, into some one.

In the story of The Hymn of the Soul, we can see this exile process in action.

SECTION I

THE HYMN OF THE SOUL

The Exile of Presence

Exile, at its root, means to wander (ile) away (ex). The “ile” was derived from the Latin word for soil (Online Etymology Dictionary). Thus it means to be away from one’s own soil, one’s own earth, one’s own place. To be in exile is to be in a place not one’s own, a foreign place, a strange place, a place of discomfort and unfamiliarity. One can do one’s best to be at home there but it is not one’s home.

Exile can be enforced or self-imposed. One can be cast out or one can cast oneself out. In the type of exile we will consider, the two are simultaneous. We are cast out as we cast ourselves out. The two lose their distinctiveness. How is this so?

When stripped to our core, letting go of all the mental, emotional, interpersonal, spiritual, and physical attachments, we find that what is left is Presence. We are the Immediacy of the ever changing Now. 

When we remove our Presence from a consciousness realm, we are automatically cast out. We have done it to ourselves. No one has done it to us.

To hopefully make this more clear, let us turn to a story, a story that is the template for all exile stories, the story of The Hymn of the Soul.

Preface

In 1950, when I was 12, something happened to me. I found that the me I thought I was was not the me I am. The world circumscribed by my conventional physical senses was augmented, enhanced by a wider vision and experience of boundless harmonious openness. I described the experience this way in a previous book.

“No one else was at home that day. Sitting quietly on the living room sofa, I was suddenly transported to a vantage point where I could see the globe of Earth. I remember a moment of fear that I would not be able to breathe in ‘outer space.’ Something reassured me and I breathed calmly and quietly. I looked ‘down’ to see my body. I had no body other than the cosmos itself.

The earth was beautiful. A soft golden light bathed it through and through and surrounded it with a golden glow.  I sensed, felt, and heard the harmony of its music. I saw and knew with deep certainty that all on earth is interrelated and harmoniously connecting. All is one flow. Separation is an illusion.

I do not know how long the experience lasted. At some point, I was sitting on the sofa once again. I told no one. I knew from listening to adult conversations that no one spoke of such things.”

Two worlds. The conventional world (often called “normal” by its inhabitants) of humans going about their separate ways with tenuous connections with others and even less connection with the non-human (such as plants, animals, mountains, ocean, birds, the sun, the earth); the visionary world of clear open spaciousness where one is always already at home, where life-and-death are interflowing partners, where all paradox both simultaneously exists and is dissolved.

During my life, I have lived in both worlds, sometimes one more than the other, but generally with a felt sense of simultaneity. Both as a psychologist and as a member of this Navel Tribe called human, I have observed that many, if not most, folk appear to live strongly in the conventional world and either not at all or infrequently in the visionary reality. When we live only in the conventional world where the decision has been made that only matter matters, we live in exile.

I am not the only one who thinks so. The stories we tell each other and ourselves create the world in which we live. I wish to tell some stories, stories of exile and return. Through the stories, perhaps we can more clearly see the ways in which we exile ourselves and open to being at home again.

the vision presented itself

Last night, a few minutes before midnight, the vision of a new book presented itself. I saw its message, its tone, its interweaving of unwoven strands. My heart smiled. I began the necessary and welcome external and internal research this morning, feeding the alchemical furnace of production.

As I have done before, I will write the book on a blog, this blog. All who wish will see the book unfold. An energizing process. A walk of faith and fun and energetic exuberance. I am thankful.