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Spiritual transformation: soul re-direction: occidental spirit shifting to the orient

excerpted from OM, baby! a pilgrimage to the eternal self, by Jack Haas

 

         

Though words such as these are mere blind tremblings shouted into the distance as an admittance of impossible clarity, I nevertheless seek in my own imperfect way to share my journey without intending to create a map for others to follow. For there is no map, there is only a journey, a terrible and brilliant sojourn through the inexplicable flesh.

It is a journey fraught with confusion and fusion, an unavoidable undertaking beyond all comprehension and coherence.

It is a journey without certainty or plan. And yet the soul somehow knows its own way, if only one learns to trust and follow. To follow the soul is to realize that there is naught but a single question which looms at all crossroads, and that is- "Which way leads towards my greater perfection." There is no choice nor deliberation in the dark and confusing path of life, there is merely an ultimatum. For when the soul which knows the way lays down the gauntlet and points towards the dark abyss towards which we must wander, the only decision which remains is whether we begin our inner voyage now or later, for inevitably it is thither we must go.

            We must go, so that we may then return.

           

           

And so, like the pendulous cosmogenesis of a lesser Brahma- who, it is said, exhales the universe for thousands of years, and then inhales it again until it dissolves back into Himself where it enters into the primal, unqualified state thousands of years later- did I inhale and absorb the world for the first thirty-seven years of my life. But then a reversal occurred, and I turned about and changed direction. In that dramatic shift I became no longer a microcosmic speck of the universe plodding the occidental highway, instead I had become a macrocosmic vehicle, helping to carry the universe along on its neverending course.

            I had turned about, my journey had shifted from west to east, from coagulation to expansion, and only then did I realize that to cease walking in a singular direction, is to become all directions.

            This metamorphosis began during the night of my thirty-seventh birthday. That night I dreamt a dream in which a man was being strung upon a cross and crucified, but just before he was about to die, the nails which had been driven through his wrists into the cross suddenly gave way and he came plummeting back down to earth. At this point in the dream an intense bright light took over, and a woman's voice spoke, saying "Now we are going to study the inner light, the om". And I awoke.

            The message of the dream was clear to me instantly: I had completed my journey along the path of the western way, and now my soul had turned about and was heading eastward.

Without a doubt this was a harbinger of all that was to follow over the next couple of years, for in a single moment I had somehow spun metaphysically about, and was now headed the other way. Like a ship which sails out into the uncharted sea for a great duration, but then in an instant turns about and points towards its home port, I was no different than I had been the evening before. Only now I was headed home.[1]

            I was now charting a course away from the perils of multiplicity and the mundane, and was bound for the great void of the eternal self wherein lies that peace which can come only after a long, challenging journey comes to completion beneath a beneficent constellation. And from there the soul charts a different course, into different waters, out of the raging northern seas, and into the placid waters of the One. This is when the wayfarer, lost for so many years in the foreign realms of being, returns again to the beginningless home, to that great cosmic peace which is the omega from which, and towards which, all similar spirits have roamed.

            I had been tangled in the occidental drama for many years preceding this shift, and had gone as far as I could go within that limited theater. And so I had to transform, as we all must transform, since change is the nature of the manifest, and therefore to not transform in this life is to have to leave this life and once again take on the perils of re-entry into another life through another womb, so as to become another form which can then try again to transform. What we call death is simply an inability to transform. What we call life is transformation.

 

[1] I had already received the portents of such a shift from two earlier dreams: one in which a great spirit had come to me and told me that after the crucifixion Christ had gone to Tibet.  I know now that, despite conventional biblical records, the reality is that Christ did not die on the cross, but instead survived the crucifixion, and afterward journeyed to Asia, where he became known as Issa.

In another dream Christ himself appeared to me and pointed to a scene in which an oriental woman was in a wheelchair, and when I awoke I knew that Christ had been pointing at me- my inner, female, eastern self who was disabled. However, soon she was going to be prodded to get up and walk. That is- I was about to uncover her within myself.

 

 

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visionary art, acrylic painting, Sophia Goddess, spirit, Varanasi India, mystic

 

 

OM, baby! a pilgrimage to the eternal self

by Jack Haas