The way home, the dream, and salvation
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
The only trick is to think for yourself, to be yourself, to forgive yourself, to love yourself, and to forget yourself. To connect all the disparate layers of our being through the quicksilver of the self.
Of the self. Of. To be of.
To return to God in the midst of things. To rise, to eat, to work, to love, to play and to pray, to sorrow and cry. In the God-flesh of our becoming, to deny nothing, to renounce nothing. To accept. To be of. To be.
There is no way home but to become home. There is no way back but to go forward. There is no way out but to go in. That is what we are here for. That is how the soul sheds its skin.
I myself did not come into this consciousness in a resplendent attempt to extricate, nor emancipate, nor guide, I simply merged back into the Dream ...I did not wake from it.
Which is to say- as the vortex of being mounted, and the angels gathered to fly, I leapt off into the whirlwind and ...I became the wind.
I did not weave this integral, complex fabric of being, nor did I unstitch it, I merely blended into patternlessness, became contiguous in the realm of all happenings, and then moved freely amongst its fibers. It was so bloody easy- I simply melted into the sublime.
Yea indeed, discordant frequencies converge in the chaos, and a wholly new harmonious sound can be heard.
In the end it is not so much about giving up the ghost, but of giving yourself up, and becoming a ghost.
Like the ash from a cigarette which holds its form after the burn, but has no form, and is dispersed away in the slightest of breezes, I was not swept into the sea, but merely washed away like a stain of blood upon the earth.
I dissolved into the tide.
Be it salvation or destruction, of that I am not sure, in the end it seems there is no valuable difference. In fact, there was little holy or unholy about my destined ungluing; only a poisonous solvent, dissolving away my hard soul. I melted into a solution of forgetfulness, or such as I might have called it at the time.
I completely lost myself, I don't know where I went.
The well of cosmic absence into which I inexorably fell exists only for those who have lost themselves and dissolved into the One.
The One, the singular Dream, the dream you are dreaming, but you know it not, and so it can never be finished.
What really happened is that I, who had always been me, and was bound and determined to stay and defend myself at all costs ...I became nobody. And when that happens let me tell you- you're in for one hell of a ride.
Early writings by Jack Haas: a rare, online book.