I am myself, that is wisdom. Each man, his own messiah.

taken from ANARCHY OF SPIRIT: an epistle for ridiculous times,  from early writings by Jack Haas: this is a rare, online book

page 22

 

If we rely on anyone but ourselves, we are doomed; every time we deny the reality that we alone can come upon, we deny reality.

And so it is the harsh but essential cosmic law that one who has no acceptance of their own vision ...shall see nothing.

Ah, to be sure, before you can blend into the One, you must stand out conspicuously, as that precarious, uncamouflaged happening so visibly bent, blotched, or broken. For in order to be chosen, you must at first become a choice.

Yea indeed, we must enter infinity through naught but our true selves; within the suffocating alienship of being we must begin the long and forgotten route through strangeness towards home, and we are our own gates, our own judges, our own redeemers, and redeemed. We must see through our own eyes. 

We are destinations, pioneers of ourselves; the pilgrim is the pilgrimage.

Indeed we must- all of us and every one- alone hack out our own cramped, ponderous tunnel, towards or away from god knows what, for no imaginable reason.

The way piles up in fragments behind us, and as endless walls ahead, while we flail and and flail and perhaps find nothing but the hollow ring of movement through the moldless form of unknowable truth. So be it. The bearings may be on the outside, but the compass lies within.

Ground yourself in the conquest of new dominions.

A spiritual anarchy of biblical proportions is now thoroughly under way. Each person must sedulously mine their own dark, alien life. You are a door. Walk through it.

Praise the god inside of you and bow to no other.

Yea, the self is a vast, unconquered territory, to which even if you are given a map, it is still only a map of your own two feet. So, really, you can go ...nowhere.

When you have pursued the depth of your being with unflappable intent, benevolent guidance, and irrevocable folly, and all you have found is but a perilous mishmash of rubbish and lies; when the teachers and leaders have betrayed you completely, and when the masters and madmen have delivered to you their flightless swan songs, and you're on your own again, as you always have been, that is when, in the stillness of your honest heart- that is when you begin again to listen.

When you have dreamed alone, thought alone, walked alone, and wept alone, then you are through with the others. Through with their concern, their trumped-up solicitude, their condescension, and guidance. Better to cast your own light into your own darkness, for then you'll be certain of what you can't see, and when you can't see you stand dead still and ...you listen.

You listen because all their pointless words and actions went right through you, and nothing remained but the permanent hollow.  You listen to the hollow of your being, because that is the only place left which has not been desecrated. You listen, and in that eternal void alone do you hear the echo of your own Great Dream.

 

I ask not that you sanction what I have said.

Who am I?- you ask. I AM! How much more author-ity does one need? The way I see it is merely the way I see it. You see, the fact that no one else corroborates my reality guarantees that it is true. Each man, his own messiah.

And so I say, there is no wisdom on this earth for a man like me. I am myself. That is wisdom.

I'm not asking you to agree. I'm not expecting you to understand. I have only my own life, and my own answers, but, at least they are answers ...for me. A man must stand up for the god inside of him, especially if he is the only one that can possibly know it. What is true for me must be true for me alone, or what am I calling me? I have no reason, no need, no desire to embrace another person's truths, for mine are much truer for me, than any other's ever could be.

Which is to say, I alone have sought what was mine alone to seek; these are my truths, not yours.

Get your own.

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Early writings by Jack Haas: a rare, online book.

 

 

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