by David H. Haight, playwrite 2009
This Old One sat by the very edge of the never silent, chiding sea wondering with a shy, amazed smile that after so many years there were still all those unanswered, seamless questions . . . so encrusted with time’s detritus they appear as banal wisps of thought floating haphazardly upon a mental wind, i.e., “Who/what/where am I?” “Is there any essential purpose in my being here in this now time?” Then seeping into consciousness he remembered that:
Deep in No Time a spark was lit,
From a nameless Unity a child was born.
Lifted to the surface of a frothy sea
Upon a broad carapace
The sleeping creation stirred — soon to awaken.
Gentled by soft moon glow
There upon hard-packed sand,
Along the edge of Knowing
He met his welcoming Devil
To search within Outer Experience
A return to Unity –
Discovered through a wandering shadow –
His ever trailing other half.
In the mind’s eye, touched by the heart, one can perceive possible scenarios, perhaps a banquet table laden with ephemeral, interwoven choices, seemingly impossible to sort out. The Old One thought that for most humankind when facing these questions there is an instantaneous rush upstairs to the intellect, that wondrous machine so laden with its brittle, concrete forms — its organized religious strangleholds, its intellectualized cultural certitudes — that simple, intuitive answers coming straight from the heart, encapsulated within a feeling context, often had little chance of recognition.
How very, very sad, the Old One dreamily mused, while here it is that I commence lightening up my worldly baggage to bounce fitfully up and down, a “letting go” to ready myself for some as yet unknown adventure, perhaps the ultimate journey whose end is never.
Thus it was the Old One dozed off, his back to the magical garden from whence, in late afternoon sunshine, floated forth a naked lost fondling, a most delicate shell, to reclaim another soul. Gossamer wings stilled, reflecting rainbow sunlight, arms slowly folding ’round the sleeping Old One, the two to be seen from a distance blending into one. Hummingbird smiles flickered over the child’s face, this androgynous creature, as it also fell into memory’s deep sleep, while behind them a centuries’ old tropical garden sighed, nodded recognition and applauded their intermingling transformations.
So dreamt the now Ancient One
A universal tale
Stored in Everyman’s soul
Twined amongst the very roots of being
Deep, deep within the seed of creation
Down, down in all that rich, black muck
From which a white lotus stem
Soon to flower
Rises to receive our sun’s brilliant blessing –
A lasting gift from the Gods!
We — Lovers all
A taste of honey
You gave to me
Drops — falling gently,
Filling all secret places
Joy for me if you stay
Sweet memories if you go –
Fading softly –
Into some misty future –
So it is I treasure,
My taste of honey.
Settling further into the dream he recalled while dancing further into his private sea –
“Drifting into ‘No Time’ I find myself at the very bottom of the Well of Sadness. Up to my waist amongst these desiccated yesterdays, I thrash about immersed in memory’s ashes, lifting my eyes up to view what I can see of the heavens — that intense, round of starry blue at the top of the well. Then as I stare into turquoise cold fire, I feel within me an expansion — a buoyant lifting of the heart. To do honor to these complex feelings I ritually lift a great pile of ashes skyward as an offering to my past. While holding these dissolving ashes aloft I become intensely aware of the wide “trail of sorrows” to my left through the gloom, that tortuous pit-filled painful path etched so clearly in Man’s memory.
Directing my eyes upwards to follow the downward path,
I revisit all the sorrows accumulated through the years, back to the very beginning,
To that difficult birthing, being held upside down as if I were some ungainly bird
soon to be cooked and consumed by external event and then the hard slap! My
resounding howl of outrage is followed by a dull thud as I am plunked down,
uncovered, upon a cold grass mat in a sandy hollow while womb fires are damped
by busy hands assisted by She, our most ancient mother.
My safe, dark, reliable cave space gone I am truly caught up in events over which I have no control and so for the first time universal fear, that chilly, amorphous ghost haunting all mankind, presumes to direct my feelings.
Looking more closely within this dream scene I become aware of all the “way-stations”, the sorrowful places and events now lying exposed to view — as the ashes seem to dissolve through my fingers — drifting down, clinging to my feet.
For a moment I feel an overwhelming sense of helplessness in this silent pit until in the far gloom appear shadowy forms of old friends and family members who have passed through a misty boundary at Life’s end to continue their journey in another place. They pass before me through this dim light moving in a slow, almost regal rhythm only to disappear once again back into some far deeper twilight realm.
Such clinging memories flash before these tired eyes! I reach out to stop them, to recall some part of our times together, but to no avail. I am caught in a shadow play where my role is only that of the rooted observer. Here, faintly perceived, another less well-defined group pass in parade, their great staring eyes blankly fixed on mine. They seem to loathe slipping by me, clinging to an inner hope, a fear, wishing to stay a little longer, yet knowing they fast approach the end of their allotted time.
This scene — all the old memories and feelings I perceive humming in the ashes surrounding my body produce a great stirring in my soul, permeated by a sense of joyous celebration. It is quite impossible to sing and dance a sad song…a tipsy unbalanced cha-cha-cha. I feel silly and have a good giggle! If I were to dance to “sad-sad-sad,” then I must immediately sing and dance to “joy-joy-joy!” Thus the dance comes into focus, into balance and I must sing to a centered point until the pendulum stops as time holds its breath while a deeper vision comes into view.
The eternal “I” awakens and knows itself for the first time — a deep, inner “knowing” — an early dawn awakening in which the Ancient One within me sees himself spread within a circle like some Leonardo de Vinci figure, naked, grasping a wheel so vast as to send hidden doubts across my mind. Slowly, ever so slowly, the great wheel commences spinning counter-clockwise as the Ancient One hovers above and observes an immense, fiery column akin to volcanic magna rising from the human navel directly below, extending upwards through the center of my body — a powerful red rising sacred essence flowing up the axis mundi upon which I am centered in space. My arms extended I feel life’s fire contained within that blood-red column pulling my feet into the earth as I experience all opposites within my own being. Therein stirs a great and terrible power.
Looking downward to my left I see my left handprint in the sand and to my right a matching right handprint. Left is as right presents and thus a balance. Lifting my head to look into that overpowering outer macrocosm I recognize from the core of Self who it is that I am. Thus it is that I accept the androgyne, the He/She of me born into this life as half a wheel. I am within, at my innermost secret place, both masculine and feminine and so embrace the feelings of each half. Yet, should I attempt this perfect union in the flesh, disaster will surely follow — as night pursues day round and round this tiny globe. Thus it is I release to some primordial memory these realizations as if they were forever frozen in amber.
Looking from the last of the falling ashes to my right I see through the gloom a narrow, steep path leading up out of the Well of Sadness. Echoing inner truth I acknowledge the absolute necessity for focus, selection, discipline and continuity in order that I progress further up this narrow way. My eyes follow the new Way up through misty unknowns and out into a blue-black, star-speckled void in which I see my arms raised, holding a great herb-filled krator whose fragrant essence permeates the universe.
There is no question of choice here, only the necessity to continue the journey. As I do so, song bursts within me — along with the realization that the trail out and away from the lonely pit is far shorter than the wide road of life which has led this earthbound being to an ash filled pit.
From high above I hear repeated over and over again an old Swahili sun greeting:
Ni Macho! Ni Macho!
Meaning I see! — I am truly awake!”
Late afternoon and a little breeze accompanied by an unexpected wave splash pulled the Ancient One back into Now Time just as there was glimpsed through closing dream doors a spirit ascending and expanding into the cosmos. For the briefest moment there was the feeling that Self moved past all conceivable concepts of “beyond”, past all light, all brainy analytical thought, past any ego-centered earthly self — just the feeling of an expanding awareness drifting outward to become a small portion of evolving, vibrating consciousness — perhaps a dream within an immense fantasy.
The Ancient One tried to put into words a few impressions of this transcendent moment: “Yes, think of your Self experiencing the fastest roller coaster ride of your life. At birth you tip slowly over a high crest and commence the great rush forward into the unknown. Imagine no conclusion to that forward rush — no downs or ups — no reaching any point of completion, but rather a rush so intense that you are propelled within the greatest silence through what earthlings term “space” and so past all detectable points of consciousness…
Out beyond analytical thought
Out beyond earthly memory feelings,
Reaching towards some unknown womb wall
The body sense of self expands,
In all directions simultaneously,
To be bathed briefly in interstellar light,
Each molecule, each atom rushing outward
As any concept of a unique Self
Becomes increasingly transparent
To some transcendent entity,
One is transformed within a magnetic wave
Encountering at the outermost reaches
Of “No Time” that softly resisting,
Webbed inner spherical wall
Requiring but the briefest concentration of energy
To burst through a slight resistance
Flowing and melding
In an intense multi-colored light stream
Surrounding untold numbers
Of gently vibrating spheres –
From one of which –
The now forgotten “you” has just been born
Yet once again!”
–o0o–
