Surrender, God, and redemption into mystery

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 11


Thus it was, that in the last battle of the ghastly war of attrition my soul led against all lies, there was nothing left but an eye, torn out at the roots by its own intransigent sight. It all vanished fleetingly together; the maxim and response, the holler and the echo. I saw nothing but my own vision, and through that I saw not even me.

It was like a far-off land of which I had spoken often but never seen, and when I finally shut my mouth ...I was there.

            I did not actually surrender to this or that, or what have you, I simply gave up; there was no more running about everywhere, only a dry leaf crumbling in the infinite wind.

            I was finished, so to speak, but not in the vogue of any metaphysical euphemism for attainment, but because I was through with the struggle, the strain, and the whole damned mess of it; because I was surely in the magician's chambers, and had in fact been there all along. I could do nothing except the only thing there was to do when there is nothing left to do- I became still.

Nothing more could have been done; as if being chased up a closed canyon by a mightier force, there was nowhere else I could run; I was corralled by the extraordinary shepherding of being; I had come to a spot where I had to surrender.

When eventually I was stopped, it was forced, by a power much greater than my own. I did not know whether it was for, or against me. Perhaps it does not matter, for the Law is the Law, and when you're going so fast that you might lose control- the Law stops you. Whether for right or wrong, light or darkness, good or bad, I have no clue, it was way beyond my scope and talents. Either way ...I was stopped.

I had no more fight left with the world, with god, or myself. There was no victory, and no defeat- the war just sort of ended when both sides ran out of bullets. None had the courage to tangle face to face in the hard reality of the flesh. We all just turned away together and walked on home.

You see, only after the spirit has entered the flesh, can the flesh escape to the spirit. Only when you let God in, can you go out- out like a flame being engulfed by the fire; you rise up only when you can finally breathe under water (so there's nothing all that liberating about the ascent, in the end).

Which is to say, that if there is to be a final 'giving over', a reckoning, a redemption, it will occur only after it has long since been necessary- when the individual has carved him or herself down to a mere filament of any specific recognition- when there is nothing left to be redeemed.

Let me tell you, when all your walls eventually come tumbling down, there better be nothing left in the house worth defending, or then the fight will be real, and deathly, or worse.

You will peel layer after layer of chaff from the germ, until in the last shuck from the core, you will see that nothing at all is left there. You are chaff. You are finished.

No matter, when all your denials and self deceits are over, and god wakes up with disbelief inside of you, you will not even be around to greet god.

You see, the surrender of which I speak is wholly epistemological (if you can fathom, or unfathom, what I mean by that).

That night, in the reckless failures of one of my more strategically placed self-deceptions, I unintentionally saw no more truth but finally saw the false completely, and so fell away abruptly into the spot which never moves. I was empty.

It was only when I learned to forget everything, to become stupid, to see life and myself as if I had never seen it before, without understanding a damn thing (for the thing is damnation to no-thing), that life began to blossom as the unknowable, magical miracle that it is.

In every one of us there is an angel dying. And yet all that is needed is a shift, an inversion, a conversion. For at the furthest reaches of the ignorance which ensconces us, lie the antipodes of sorrow and ecstasy. We have dwelled in the former, dark end too long. Now we need only fight your way to the lost extreme, for these opposites are not actually opposed, but are the same thing, viewed only from different directions.

Thus, when the walls and chains you are bound in finally show themselves plainly as webs of your own ignorant devising- that these arise from neither the Good, nor Evil, but from your own confusion- that is when you stop struggling to break free, chuckle a bit at the lesson, genuflect for a moment or two, gape wildly with wonder at it all, and float calmly away without caring.

Yea indeed, as the raging forms glistened in the ecstasy of what may, I stood again before myself.

I came through suffering to gratitude, exalting what had deranged me, because I began to understand what was happening- somehow I had gotten back on track, I don't know how, but somehow I was returning to the source of gratitude, to mystery, to God, to godness Me.






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










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