It could be Wind
There is a sound outside that could be wind. Hollow and lonely, it brushes across the dry scrub, across the plains, twists around the house, enters through whatever means it can. It is the whistling sound of exhale, the wind in the rigging, a storm at sea. Rain and snow hit the black night window at a wind-driven angle. They build up, become heavy, tear and slide down the glass to meet the snow at the bottom. My face is there behind the tears in the reflection. It hovers outside in the cold. It hovers over the gray wall of my computer, floats under a brown leather cowboy hat, floats in the elements at the mercy of the wind, at the mercy of the winter storm. The storm is the chaos who fills in the wake, in the slipstream of hope. The house creaks, moans, in complaint. The wind is the sound of waves, and I am adrift at sea.
I met an old man today, a gentle man, who told me his life story. His eyes were red and glassy and bulged with the emotion he dared not release. He told me of his love for the world, and of his devout loyalty to his friends, family and lovers that are now long gone from his life. His head tipped downwards as he told me of his pain, of his intolerance for people, even of those he loved, and how he had driven them from his life, their Earthly weights too heavy for his flight. His reverence for the universe, his connection with the universe, requires freedom . The love amongst the mortality of Earth clings, is too heavy, interrupts the flight. He could not live a dual existence. He had to choose. He said that he once thought that his only way to true love, to infinite connection with the beauty of the universe, with the ultimate logic, the base vibration, the essence of the Big Bang, he thought the only way would be to release himself from his mortal shell and launch directly into heaven, where he would be one with the universe, his spirit free of mortal constraints at last.
His head lifted upwards and I saw his eyes once more. The terror from the memory shone large and urgent in his face. As the urgency left his eyes he wept. He said he met me once before, in a previous life, in the same spiritual continuum and at that time I had urged him not to leave the mortal realm, that we needed him to struggle with us, to live as example of the struggle. At the time of our first meeting I was the mortal manifestation of an elder, and counciled him that through the struggle we will have greater re-connection with the universe, never perfect, always closer. And that when death comes it will be a peaceful rest after a struggle, not the tumult that he implied. Through the struggle for reverence, you may find in life, increasing peace.
"Now, my son, your spirit has manifested itself as my junior. Since all spirits come from the same instant in time, the time of creation, there is only mortal illusion of age, the metaphoric manifestation of where we are in our stage of re-connection with the harmonic, with the beauty of the universe. So it must be I who has lessons to share with you now.
"Let me begin with the concept of struggle. You are a spiritual creature trapped in mortal form. Struggle is any weight which holds down the flight of spirit, of spirituality. Struggle is the rationalizations, the self-lies that mask truth. Truth is clear and easy, without struggle. As lies to self and to others are let go, the spirit becomes more free and there remains no struggle. An example of the most common lie to self is immortality, or the denial of death. Other lies can be found in any instance of holding since all things change. Earthly manifestations of holding are clearly seen in materialism, accumulation of wealth. On a more metaphysical plane, a common lie to self is living outside of the moment. By this I mean those who dwell in the past or are always heading towards the future instead of revering the moment, instead of making this moment in time the most important moment. Your work Non-Linear Undercurrent addresses this point.
"Question the lies that live in struggle."
In that past life, the past mortal manifestation, I told him that his struggle is not unique, it is a struggle we all share, a struggle for meaning and asked him to help us with our struggle, please, by example. To keep going towards reverent mortal connection to truly attain heaven. To treasure the fleeting moments of happiness, to cultivate them, to bring life and light into spaces where there was just dirt and darkness. For without the light of happiness, there is darkness beyond darkness.
"Ya. Everything in the universe is moving farther and farther apart. Why? Momentum from the Big Bang? When will gravity overcome the disconnecting forces, the separating forces and bring all things back together?
format modified: March 7, 1999