Truth, love, God, and Hallelujah
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
Oh, let the heavens have their madness back. I remain in the flesh, but there's none of me who lives here now. At the assumption of all my ghosts, I was cleansed from all but the veneer of appearance. All my hiding places were gone.
It was an imperfect perfection in the beast; by seeking to remove myself from the necessity of idea, by seeking to find a discontinuity, an event not recognizable, nor represented by anything. I sought a dissociated unfathomableness. And in that intimacy of removedness I found that I loved the world, all of it and everyone, because then I needed nothing from it, not even life. I loved the world because finally I was in it, of it, and ecstatically confounded by it. If only for an instant, I found... no ...I became love.
It is as if the whole seminal ruse about incompleteness and 'others' was simply my own trepidation at being all of it. For the crazy thing is this- God is the one who is cowardly within us. And we are that shy puppeteer, hiding furtively behind his own creation. And, lo! we are his dumb, recalcitrant puppets as well. And when both of them finally cease, they are the same as IT, though not the same either. IT is everything: Eye, and you, and I, are none of what these are alone, because they are not alone, but only One and not another.
You see, there is something else left to relate: at that moment, when I let it all go, and I mean all of it, because I was no longer around to obstruct creation, suddenly ...I was creation. Which is to say, without prior warning or expectation, but to be sure- suddenly I was God waking up, laughing uncontrollably at how I did not know how I produced the world at every moment, but I knew that I alone was doing it. I repeat: Suddenly you were god waking up...
When I held onto nothing, let myself fall away from care and effort, eased into the hopeless surrender of my own impotence, that is when the self I was pursuing fell helplessly back into me from the vacuum of my ambitionless void. Everything became mine because I had nothing. It's a hapless lot of incalculable madness, this happening. As the moon swallows the sun in an orgy of torpid union, and the lion lies down with the lamb, when we let it go it all comes back to us, because it was ours to begin with and we only had to stop chasing it in order to be caught.
The limitless patience of my awaiting ecstasy had been the goad and leash from which I sprang forth only to be hauled back again with ignoble regularity; thus I was forced out into life, to take it in, enjoy it, despise it, correct it, and destroy it, and then I was pulled painfully back again, withdrawn so as not to be petted nor fed. As if to enter the banquet, to drool a bit, and then be pushed quickly out the other side, in a never ending chain of these futile engagements- as if this is to live and to not live, to die and to not die, to always be given and never to have. It is to learn how to be without being, to enter the jail without being taken prisoner, to fight without ever dying, to fly without growing wings.
I was caught, I was held, released, caught again, held again, released again, on and on, over and over, until finally when I was released again...I did not flee. The prisoner and the warden changed places. The war turned into a banquet. Good and Evil fused into one. And God lept up for joy inside of me.
The primitive understandings which had so embalmed me all my terrible and fabulous life instantly vaporized away, and the Creator's eyes ...looked through me. The pulsing, primal, fluid medium flowed out of me, I did not know what I was making, nor how I was doing it, but to be sure it was me. Then I knew what it meant to 'fall into being', to divide the Creator from the Creation, to trap the self on the other side.
Everything ends and begins in stillness. All of life emerges from, and dwells there. God does not see you, or me, or any others; God does not see many, God sees One. When the edge collapses the centre grows. The hairy beast sprouts feathers, the feathers become flames, and the fire turns the chaff into manna.
It is a manic dawn which breaks in and rolls over upon you. It is a glee and tremor which catapults you away to the here which is nowhere. No more repentance. No more concern. No more assurance. No more to learn. 'Now' has taken over and devoured you. And you have devoured now. Like the famed uroborOus, the head of time eating the tail of space, engulfing itself to nility, and from that zero all infinities are born.
From the communal despair of the masses, to the ecstatic loneliness of the lone had I run, and, in the horrid, gentle eyes of God, I ran to myself, and myself was all others, and all of the sudden ...the many were One.
Yea, in this final, flagrant summation- from the stillness which does not accomplish- Eye welcomed myself without genius, Eye remembered myself without guise.
In the choiceless calm of uncertainty, I stopped without stopping, and forged on without moving and inch.
Now Eye am nobody. Now Eye know nothing.
Once again, I have lost everything. And thus I return from the fight, as always- forever broken, forever new.
It was so easy in the end. There was nothing the world could offer me, it could only divide me further from the Source, from Truth, from Love. I won because I had nothing further to lose, because everything was already lost.
In the midst of being I forgot being, in the midst of life I forgot life, in the midst of myself I forgot... me.
And so, through the delirium and sin of our earthly predicament, I fell, rose up, walked on, forgot and ...was innocent again.
As the specious forms dwindled in the new light of the day, Eye stood again before myself.
Early writings by Jack Haas: a rare, online book.