An unknown flower garden, in an unknown world

taken from I, FOR LACK OF A BETTER TERM: a soul's soliloquy,  from early writings by Jack Haas: this is a rare, online book

page 10

 

Ah, but let me reiterate. You see, in fact I was always free. I never really understood. That was my freedom. Pain would always exist- that I could not longer deny. But let me tell you of the release which took me nowhere. From the torture of our vainly lost ignorance. Yes, by our lost ignorance.

I wanted only to be stupid again. I wanted to forget, to start again, to break apart and be done. And you know what- I forgot.

I forgot me. Me? Yes, that faulty proximity, I forgot even that. In the hollow reaches of no thought, where the form is released from the will of the Law ...I stopped. Everything else continued. Only I stopped. I did not become, I unbecame.

It happened when I had seemingly failed at life completely, when I had walked away from everything with nothing left but myself, and even that self was crumbling out from beneath me. That is when, in the silent, wordless wonder of it all, I became ...the one who was looking for me. Which is to say, I became the Eye of no I.

In the intimacy of all our absences, where the self assumes no borders and form shatters without breaking ...I remembered how to forget.

In fact, I am the man who was the one forever trying to help me cross the river. Such is the task of destiny; It found itself.

I stopped looking for something, and Eye started looking at it all. Eye listened to I. I saw through Eye. Now I am not, and am, so at least Eye have that.

Oh, it is so hard to describe, but somehow, unpredictably, in those vagrant, directionless wanderings, I found something's nothingness; I stumbled unwittingly upon an indisputable recognition. I did not know what it was. I simply accepted that it was Me.

Let me tell you, it is a long way back. And it is a long way forward. And both are the same direction. And the only way to get there is to go, and and go, and go, and keep going, and never to think of arrival.

Yea indeed, meandering guilelessly through the tunnels of decomprehension, I had found not-finding, and lost all sense of the ground. I was debacled of the known. For it was then- as if the mind had condemned itself all along- without thought or guidance, that ignorance became my honored counsel. It was then that I disremembered myself, and eye ...Eye remembered myself.

In fact it was as if I was I, and only I, and nothing but I all along, whatever it is I be.

In the absence of all image I fell joyfully away from thought to thoughtless beauty, in the mindless upswell of the heart's conquest.

Like a man awoken in an unknown flower garden, in an unknown world, for an unknown reason, I could do naught but inhale the intoxicating perfumes of this crazy life's beauty and love. Good god did I breathe. That's all I did. That's all I could do. Nothing more was needed. To rise and go forth away from the swollen rapture was to spit in the face of beauty, and to weep for the flying dove.

I tell you, I did not move. Not a whisper. It was exhilarating.

My life was like an old and beaten radio that looked worn and useless on the outside, but man when you put the earphones in and turned it up, damn if it didn't play good tunes.

I was wild and I was listening. Listening to the song of the wildness running free and right through me. I was hearing the old music that no longer flowed with the discordant ways we were dancing together. I was dancing to the old tune of the new heart, the heart buried and bound by the mind for so long that to finally unleash it was to explode in ecstasy and anguish; to stand in the morgue of life, and swirl and be taken by a fiddler no one else could hear.

I could hear the fiddler. I was opened, murdered, lifted, cleansed, moved, and dancing.

And I was still.

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

 

 

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