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Kahlil Gibran

from Jesus, The Son of Man

at The Spirit and Flesh World Religion and Spirituality Online Library: uniting seemingly opposed ideologies and vibrations into the true, pristine harmony of cosmic oneness.

 

  The following passages are from the voices of women who knew Jesus.

 

             It was in the month of June when I saw Him for the first time. ...

            The rhythm of His step was different from other men's, and the movement of His body was like naught I had seen before.

Men do not pace the earth in that manner. And even now I do not know whether He walked fast or slow.

My handmaidens pointed their fingers at Him and spoke in shy whispers to one another. And I stayed my steps for a moment, and raised my hand to hail Him. But He did not turn His face, and He did not look at me. And I hated Him. I was swept back into myself, and I was as cold as if I had been in a snow-drift. And I shivered.

That night I beheld Him in my dreaming; and they told me afterward that I screamed in my sleep and was restless upon my bed.

It was in the month of August that I saw Him again, through my window. He was sitting in the shadow of the cypress tree across my garden, and He was as still as if He had been carved out of stone, like the statues in Antioch and other cities of the North Country. ...

And I gazed at Him, and my soul quivered within me, for He was beautiful.

His body was single and each part seemed to love every other part.

Then I clothed myself with raiment of Damascus, and I left my house and walked towards Him.

Was it my aloneness, or was it His fragrance, that drew me to Him? Was it hunger in my eyes that desired comeliness, or was it His beauty that sought the light of my eyes?

Even now I do not know. ...

And I said, "Will you not have wine and bread with me?"

And He said, "Yes, Miriam, but not now."

Not now, not now, He said. And the voice of the sea was in those two words, and the voice of the wind and the trees. And when He said them unto me, life spoke to death.

For mind you, my friend, I was dead. I was a woman who had divorced her soul. I was living apart from this self which you now see. I belonged to all men, and to none. They called me a harlot, and a woman possessed of seven devils. I was cursed, and I was envied.

But when His dawn-eyes looked into my eyes all the stars of my night faded away, and I became Miriam, only Miriam, a woman lost to the earth she had known, and finding herself in new places. ...

Then He looked at me, and the noontide of His eyes was upon me, and He said, "You have many lovers, and yet I alone love you. Other men love themselves in your nearness. I love you in your self. Other men see a beauty in you that shall fade away sooner than their own eyes. But I see in you a beauty that shall not fade away, and in the autumn of your days that beauty shall not be afraid to gaze at itself in the mirror, and it shall not be offended.

"I alone love the unseen in you." ...

Then He stood up and looked at me even as the seasons might look down upon the field, and He smiled. And He said again: "All men love you for themselves. I love you for yourself."

And then He walked away.

But no other man ever walked the way He walked. Was it a breath born in my garden that moved to the east? Or was it a storm that would shake all things to their foundation? ...  

               Mary Magdalene

 

I often wonder whether Jesus was a man of flesh and blood like ourselves, or a thought without a body, in the mind, or an idea that visits the vision of man.

Often it seems to me that He was but a dream dreamed by countless men and women at the same time in a sleep deeper than sleep and a dawn more serene than all dawns.

And it seems that in relating the dream, the one to the other, we began to deem it a reality that had indeed come to pass; and in giving it body of our fancy and a voice of our longing we made it a substance of our own substance.

But in truth He was not a dream. We knew Him for three years and beheld Him with our open eyes in the high tide of noon.

We touched His hands, and we followed Him from one place to another. We heard His discourses and witnessed His deeds. Think you that we were a thought seeking after more thought, or a dream in the region of dreams? ...

He was a mountain burning in the night, yet He was a soft glow beyond the hills. He was a tempest in the sky, yet He was a murmer in the mist of daybreak.

He was a torrent pouring from the heights to the plains to destroy all things in its path. And He was like the laughter of children. ...

Nay, Jesus was not a phantom, nor a conception of the poets. He was man like yourself and myself. But only to sight and touch and hearing; in all other ways He was unlike us.

He was a man of joy; and it was upon the path of joy that He met the sorrows of all men. And it was from the high roofs of His sorrows that He beheld the joy of all men.

He saw visions that we did not see, and heard voices that we did not hear; and He spoke as if to invisible multitudes, and ofttimes He spoke through us to races yet unborn.

And Jesus was often alone. He was among us yet not one with us. He was upon the earth, yet He was of the sky. And only in our aloneness may we visit the land of His aloneness. ...

I often think of the earth as a woman heavy with her first child. When Jesus was born, He was the first child. And when He died, He was the first man to die.

For did it not appear to you that the earth was stilled on that dark Friday, and the heavens were at war with the heavens?

And felt you not when His face disappeared from our sight as if we were naught but memories in the mist?...

            Rachael, a woman disciple

 

When Jesus spoke the whole world was hushed to listen. His words were not for our ears but rather for the elements of which God made this earth.

He spoke to the sea, our vast mother, that gave us birth. He spoke to the mountains, our elder brother whose summit is a promise.

And He spoke to the angels beyond the sea and the mountains to whom we entrusted our dreams ere the clay in us was made hard in the sun.

And still His speech slumbers within our breast like a love-song half forgotten, and sometimes it burns itself through to our memory.

His speech was simple and joyous, and the sound of His voice was like cool water in a land of drought.

Once He raised His hand against the sky, and His fingers were like the branches of a sycamore tree; and He said with a great voice:

"The prophets of old have spoken to you, and your ears are filled with their speech. But I say unto you, empty your ears of what you have heard."

And these words of Jesus, "But I say unto you," were not uttered by a man of our race nor of our world; but rather by a host of seraphim marching across the sky of Judae. ...

To tell of the speech of Jesus one must needs have His speech or the echo thereof.

I have neither the speech nor the echo.

I beg you to forgive me for beginning a story that I cannot end. But the end is not yet upon my lips. It is still a love song in the wind.

                            Cleopas of Bethroune

 

His head was always high, and the flame of God was in His eyes.

He was often sad, but His sadness was tenderness shown to those in pain, and comradeship given to the lonely.

When He smiled His smile was the hunger of those who long after the unknown. It was like the dust of stars falling upon the eyelids of children. And it was like a morsel of bread in the throat.

He was sad, yet it was a sadness that would rise to the lips and become a smile.

It was like a golden veil in the forest when autumn is upon the world. And sometimes it seemed like moonlight upon the shores of the lake.

He smiled as if His lips would sing at the wedding-feast.

Yet He was sad with the sadness of the winged who will not soar above his comrade.

                           One of the Marys

 

His mouth was like the heart of a pomegranate, and the shadows in His eyes were deep.

And He was gentle, like a man mindful of his own strength.

In my dreams I beheld the kings of the earth standing in awe in His presence.

I would speak of His face, but how shall I?

It was like night without darkness, and like day without the noise of day.

It was a sad face, and it was a joyous face.

And well I remember how once He raised His hand towards the sky, and His parted fingers were like the branches of an elm.

And I remember Him pacing the evening. He was not walking. He Himself was a road above the road; even as a cloud above the earth that would descend to refresh the earth. ...

Once again I say that with death Jesus conquered death, and rose from the grave a spirit and a power. And he walked in our solitude and visited the gardens of our passion.

He lies not there in the cleft rock behind the stone.

We who love Him beheld Him with these our eyes which He made to see; and we touched Him with these hands which He taught to reach forth. ...

There is a gulf that yawns between those who love Him and those who hate Him, between those who believe and those who do not believe.

But when the years have bridged that gulf you shall know that He who lived in us is deathless, that He was the Son of God even as we are the children of God; that He was born of a virgin even as we are born of the husbandless earth.

It is passing strange that the earth gives not to the unbelievers the roots that would suck at her breast, nor the wings wherewith to fly high and drink, and be filled with the dews of her space.

But I know what I know, and it is enough.

                                Mary Magdalene

 

(by Kahlil Gibran, excerpted from Jesus, The Son of Man)

 

end

          

 

 

 

Books by Jack Haas

 

 

 

 

"Having awoken to my own immortal self, I am endeavoring to share my journey with others, though without attempting to impart a structure on a process which must always be natural and unique to each individual."

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What the critics have said about books by Jack Haas:

"...very strongly recommended reading..." The Midwest Book Review
"Few like Jack Haas go the whole hog. ...eminently readable."
Nandakumar Nayar (bookreview.com)
"...the voice crying out in the wilderness, bravely, madly, tenderly, ironically...so densely, so wonderously well."
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"The Kerouac of the new millennium."
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"...a glorious illumination of our spiritual birthright."
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"Jack Haas delivers a wonderful message."
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"...groundbreaking..."
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BOOKS BY JACK HAAS

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AUTOBIOGRAPHY/SPIRITUALITY

 

IN AND OF : memoirs of a mystic journey

by Jack Haas    available in paperback and ebook

 

The autobiographical account of Jack Haas’ journey from the claustrophobic city, to the primitive wilderness of coastal British Columbia, California, and Alaska, and into the uncharted regions of the soul. This is a true tale of adventure, misadventure, wonder, struggle, mysticism, and miracles. It is a journey into rare experiences, and it is a journey home. If you love a good read, you won't be disappointed by this prose masterpiece. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize and a B.C. Book Prize.

 

“…an enthralling, true-life account… very strongly recommended reading...” Midwest Book Review (Reviewer's Choice, five stars)

 

 

 

ROOTS AND WINGS: adventures of a spirit on earth        

by Jack Haas      available in paperback and ebook

 

A rapturous saga, relating the author’s unique experiences while out and about in “this crazy, beautiful, impossible world”, as he describes it. Jack Haas’ travels encompass a wide variety of places, such as India, Iceland, Hawaii, New Zealand, Nepal, Europe, and Israel. Largely, however, this is an inner odyssey, and is a profound account of the author’s acceptance, love, and alchemical union with the spirit and the earth itself. If you need a kick in the pants to get back up and go for it, this is a book for you.

 

“…exquisitely balances poetic rapture and esoteric insight. …a glorious illumination of our spiritual birthright.” Benjamin Tucker (author of Roadeye)

 

 

 

OM, baby! a pilgrimage to the eternal self

by Jack Haas      available in paperback and ebook

 

This is both a remarkable journey through sacred India, and a pilgrimage to the immortal self. With his ever inexorable determination to pursue his highest path, Jack Haas visits many holy areas within the subcontinent of India, and communes with numerous masters who have passed from this plane, but who remain in the subtle realm to assist mankind in its growth to freedom and eternity. Within the pages of this book Haas describes his own evolution towards an expanded, unlimited consciousness which is united to an inward, all-pervasive soul: the profound, eternal union of spirit and flesh. This is an important read for those on the crest of awakening to their immortal selves.

 

 

 

TRANSFIGURATION: the union of spirit and flesh

by Jack Haas      available in paperback and ebook

 

This is the collector's edition containing Jack Haas' three autobiographical works within one volume: IN AND OF: memoirs of a mystic journey, ROOTS AND WINGS: adventures of a spirit on earth, OM, baby! a pilgrimage to the eternal self. Although each book is an independent work, the three together comprise a most unique spiritual journey, eloquently detailing Jack Haas' travels and adventures with his soror mystica (his alchemical mystical sister) as they experience a plethora of improbable encounters, synchronicities, mythical realizations, alchemical fulfillments, and a host of eccentric and spirited individuals. A truly profound spiritual autobiography.

 

 

 

MYSTICISM/COMPARATIVE-RELIGION

 

THE WAY OF WONDER:  a return to the mystery of ourselves      

by Jack Haas      available in paperback and ebook

      

An inspiring exploration of the mystery of our existence. Jack Haas uniquely assimilates many different spiritual paths and secular philosophies, and leads the reader into the experience of mystic wonder. This is a book devoted to the miracle, awe, and beauty in all life. It is a book about the rapture of unknowing. A must read for anyone who desires to break through the bonds of the current paradigm, and enter the realm of cosmic awe. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize.

 

“...a most unusual, and powerful book.” George Fisk (author of A New Sense of Destiny

 

 

 

THE TAO OF ETERNITY: the transcendent, immortal spirit, and the subtle, infinite self

by Jack Haas      available in paperback and ebook

 

In the spirit of Lao Tzu's Tao te Ching, Jack Haas conveys the subtle, effortless, identitiless nature of the eternal self. Assimilating his own brief, insightful pieces with quotes from a great variety of other sources, Haas attempts to take the reader beyond the current manifest paradigm, and into an everlasting awakening to their own immortal, unmanifest self. This is a potent, modern exposition based on personal experience. A valuable work which will assist readers in recognizing their own eternal nature.

 

 

 

PHOTOGRAPHY/POETRY/ART

 

THE DREAM OF BEING: aphorisms, ideograms, and aislings      

by Jack Haas      available in paperback and ebook

An idiosyncratic collection of Jack Haas’ metaphysical poetry, transformational drawings, and esoteric insights, metaphorically conveying the soul’s journey through life, and subtly expressing the dream nature of all reality. A most unique book of modern poetry and symbolic art.

“…a very different type of inspirational work and highly recommended as an example of the art of poetry…” Midwest Book Review (Reviewer's Choice, five stars)

 

 

 

HER: the sacred naked mother earth, and the divine feminine soul

by Jack Haas

 

Combining beautiful, artistic nude photographs of his soror mystica (his alchemical mystical sister), whom he has written about throughout his three autobiographical books, Jack Haas adds metaphysical writings and quotes from various esoteric sources, to create a unique book which emphatically declares the sacred, living aspect of the earth and all flesh, as well as the divine nature of the feminine soul. The juxtaposition of numerous stunning nude pictures alongside inspiring metaphysical text makes for a tremendous spiritual and aesthetic journey into the body and soul of the Mother Goddess.

 


 

 

              

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