Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Skeletons in the Closet




There is a sense that skeletons are walking out of their closets everywhere you look. The unresolved issues, inequities and inequalities upon which a seemingly workable structure of society has been built, are being called into question.

All over the world there are stirrings of this evident on the geo-political level. The Arab Spring has now spread to the shores of the USA with Occupy Wall Street. People long for truth, authenticity, fairness, honesty, and there is a growing will to demand these things.

But demand them of whom?

A sincere questioner may have to acknowledge a grisly fact: he or she has internal skeletons needing to come out of their closets - bones whose restless sighing whisper of souls kept in the chains of our attachment and possession, whose freedom has been long denied.

However immense those cultural skeletons may be, the ones within are even more fierce and powerful, for it is from these that the others derive their collective existence.

It is far easier to point to the supposed evil of Wall Street and foreign tyranny than to acknowledge one’s own complicity in creating a world in which selfishness and self-interest is the dominating Modus Operandi.

These times are calling for renewal and refreshment, for the final burying of the undead and the subsequent freeing of those bound under tyrannical slavery.  While we rightfully labor in the world to do this, let us not neglect to expose our own skeletons so that all may rest in peace.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Jesus' Prayer Rope



From the darkness a voice asks, “Would anyone here like to hold the prayer rope of Jesus?”

There is no reply. Everyone feels daunted by such a prospect.

The voice queries again, somewhat insistently: “Anyone?”

I struggle to overcome the inertia of trepidation and answer, “I will.”

A stubby piece of wood is placed in my hand, like a broken twig or branch, deep reddish in color. From it stretches out into infinitesimal distance an energetic cord.

The nearest bead on this cord is barely visible, and vibrating with subtle intensity.

After a moment of holding the stick, the bead’s content becomes clear.

It is a person, and with the stick he or she has punched a hole through the chest in order to be strung on Jesus prayer rope.

Seeing this, I do the same. The stick passes through my body easily, creating a spacious open void.

The piercing doesn’t seem to hurt, though I sense it reflects profound effort in the realm of human struggle, where life’s deepest issues are resolved and redeemed.

And suddenly I see that all the beads

Are glowing.

Friday, July 29, 2011

The Iboga Warrior



Sometime during our journey the Iboga Warrior revealed himself. 

He walked out of a dark wilderness toward the fire, where his rugged features gleamed rusty in the night.  His eyes peered toward a vision no one else could see - another land, or another life.

Nevertheless his fierce presence was undeniable and unmistakable.

Beneath his rough cloak, muffled by strong arms, a battle raged. 

A deadly creature wrestled within the warrior's chest, seeking to devour his very heart.  Yet of this severe conflict he gave no outward sign.

Being the youngest, it fell to me to witness all . . .

And I saw the light of the Iboga Warrior

Rising like blue smoke

Toward the waiting stars.