The symbiosis of heaven and earth
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
At the base of my past, feverish existence lied the eternal task of resurrecting the vast expanse of wonder, for it was there where I was fully sobered- there, in the wild euphorias of my tempestuous incarceration.
If I could only bestow upon everyone, for but a split second, the absolute intoxication of our mysterious lives (and, let me tell you, our lives are bloody well mysterious), and leave them then to accept or reject the experience as they will, then perhaps I might leave this plane of melancholy in peace. Perhaps not.
If only people were more stupefied by the spectacular implausibility of their own incomprehensible occurrence, then we should be easily rid of this mundane travesty.
I imagine that no one wonders at 'being' as much as I, and I despair at how little I wonder.
Oh, just once Lord, let me make drooling morons out of well-appointed fools; better it is to lead a person into a larger prison, than to leave them bound because you cannot release them.
I want to tell you what it means to live life without the strangulating entanglements of the mind. I want to explain the thrilling and perilous ride into the dark and ever-new, always changing unknown, without direction, without guidance, without fear, towards the mystery collapsed in upon itself, until it remembers itself incomprehensible, and hallows itself as the mystery I.
My life congealed into the symbiosis of heaven and earth; as the firmament fell and the ground swelled to meet it, the two waters converged into one. I was at the confluence: the earth fled through me to the spirit, the love shone through me to the stone. And human souls, given open ground to fulfill the essence of their mythical qualities, were transformed through the factory of my hollow nothingness, because I, who had become nobody, right in the howling hurricane of limitless somebodies ...I could take them on, let the world of their sorrow waft through my defenseless void, and then release their souls back out again.
I had stood my ground in the face of our demons; their power was infinite, and I was nothing; I wept but did not crumble, I feared but did not run, I suffered but did not anguish. I lost, but they did not win. In fact, my strategic humbling ended the interminable battle; "Lay down in their midst!", that is the directive which I heard.
In the end I became silent only by trying to listen to god, not by trying to be silent.
Sacrifice, yes, it was all sacrifice. I lost everything, all of it, none was left but a whimper and squeak. It came to pass, by erasing hope away, by not striving, but letting being be, that I again ...was free.
It was a stiller stillness than death. I had been the phantom haunting me all along. Thus it was easy to exorcise my demons, because there was no gravity, no victim, no me. I simply disappeared and took them with me, the whole bloody farce of it.
I slipped and stayed those agonizing resonances. I was the string never struck, the chord never plucked, the silence giving rise to the harmony. I was not even an ingredient, only a catalyst, spent in the reaction, and then left aside all alone.
In the end we must all contain the whole world; we must take everyone in, give them shelter, devour them like food, digest their unique occurrence, and assimilate them into ourselves. We must become everyone if we are to ever become ourselves. The walls of individuality must die, the shell of the scared chick must crack, and the little bird must screech, totter, fall, and fly, if ever it is to soar away one day, mate in another lost land with another infinity, build a nest, and bear another world of its own.
Early writings by Jack Haas: a rare, online book.