from The Light Tree Journal: "The Door in the Tree..." and "Two Keys to the Door..."

                 

  

   It was nearly a year, since the beginning of the tree journal; and the end of the first twelve months of the fruit of life.  It was coming near the time of Matariki again, the New Zealand Maori New Year. A time of old things meeting new things; and of my ‘endings’ meeting beginnings; for what I had begun this story journal looking for, I had found. My questions were answered: wherever self’s rotten ego in me came to its end: there true self could begin and there it found its own treasure.

   Only one thing yet waited its explanation: the door in the tree. All other aspects of The Light Tree had been shown me; but the door remained a mystery.

   When I was finally shown what it was, I wondered that I had not understood sooner; it was so obvious. But, as with all answers in Life, the moment I knew, it was as though I had always known.

   It happened while I was walking in the garden. I had just come to the three swan plant bushes outside the east window, and I stopped to look for caterpillars and chrysalises. Just as I stopped, I saw a flash of the most brilliant orange I had ever seen; and a new butterfly flew away. …It had left its ‘house,’ and from the middle of the tall bush. …Suddenly, I ‘saw’ on the inside in me. The Door in the Tree, it was in the middle of the tree, mid-way in the tree; above its roots, but below its branches; in its centre. And entering through that door was what linked the realm above, with the realm below. …It was the door which linked heaven and earth. But, only by entering did that linking have any effect. If I had not have entered, I’d not have found Everland. And I only entered in, by the door, by the Spirit of truth…in the midst of me: in my middle.

   The beloved was the door, of course. He is the door to Everland: and when he was beloved to you. He is the door to heaven on earth and the pearl of great price. …But there was yet a missing piece to complete the understanding of the vision of The Light Tree: . . . the way to enter in, by the door in the tree . . . continually.

  

                                                                           *

Two Keys to the Door                                               

   It wasn’t until two days later, whilst sitting on the back verandah in a patch of winter sunshine, listening to the singing of the creek that I thought of the fact that in the vision of the Door in the Tree, the door had had a small double keyhole to it. It puzzled me now that I thought about it; and absentmindedly I played with the two pebbles that I had in my pocket whilst gazing at the view, trying to work it all out; why I wondered had I not thought of it before? And, where and what was the key? And why were there two keyholes? After a moment I remembered experiencing two sorts of ‘keys’ before. One had been ‘the willingness to be undone,’ and the other, ‘the losing of my own knowledge,’ which opened the way to knowledge; but still it seemed to me that there was yet another.

   Then, and in what was automatic to me now, I lifted up my heart to him whom I loved, and rested there, and didn’t think, and I floated free. I put the two smooth stones back in my pocket and picked up my book. After only a minute or two, I think it was, I ‘heard’ these words inside me: ‘the hand which rocks the cradle.’ I was surprised, at first, because I was not often given understanding in words; I had learned to be a little wary of such a thing. Understanding usually came to me through instantaneous inner pictures.  For me this was the main way of communication via the Spirit of Truth. Explanations in fleeting visions and pictures seemed clearer than words and less open to being corrupted or misunderstood.  

   Almost immediately I remembered as a child, seeing an ancient oak cradle, in a museum; which had a faint but clearly visible imprint of a mother’s hand upon the dark wooden hood of the cradle as she had rocked it, and for many years. Then I found myself looking down at my two hands holding open the book on my lap; one hand on each side of the spine; and the unravelling trail ended here. My two hands, I wondered? My left and my right…? And to discern between the two...? But it didn’t make any sense. Then all unconsciously my left hand let go of the book; when I let go with my right hand, it slipped off my lap. And the instant it fell to the verandah floor I knew why there were two keyholes to the door; and, more clearly now, what the two keys were:   

   ‘The willingness to be undone’ one was Surrender, or ‘URIM,’ which meant ‘lights;’ and the other, ‘the losing of my own knowledge’ was Not-Knowing, or ‘THUMMIN,’ which meant ‘perfections.’ …And the finding of the answer to my internal question – every time – was by these two hard things. By these two ‘stones’ within me, by these two ‘hands’ to my spirit, by these two ‘keys’ to life was there an entrance made through the door in the tree of life.

   ‘Light’ came through my inner surrender; and ‘perfection’ came through not-knowing I knew!

   Every time I let go of what I wanted which was gripping me, and I surrendered it to my beloved; and every time I chose not to know, and believed that he knew it for me, in me – then I entered in at the Door. Then the Spirit of truth and light would meet me, there, within; and I would be given the ‘lights’ of insight, which I was at that moment in need of; and I would be made perfect, in the ‘perfections’ of his wisdom and knowledge which I was in need of at that very moment. Life was always immediate! Of course, it was! So that it could never become ‘a Thing:’ or ‘a Theory of Life.’  So that it could never be worshipped as a ‘Something;’ for that was idolatry.

   I laughed and rejoiced, and I knew what I would do! I got up quickly and went inside. In the dining room, I went to the Welsh dresser, and took down from two cup hooks on it, two quite large and rusty iron keys. (These were just two of the keys for which every door in our Victorian house had a keyhole. We never used them.) And I fetched a small piece of cardboard and brown string and scissors and pen and a hole-punch thingy and made a label for each key. Written on the label of one, was the word ‘SURRENDER,’ and written on the other was ‘NOT-KNOWING.’  I wrote the words in large capital letters and hung the keys back on their cup hooks on the Welsh dresser, their labels turned so as I could not help but read them every time I was in the room. Then surely these two ‘un-lockers’ – which would open ‘the door in the tree of life’ – would become ingrained within me so as I could never forget; or ever lose their ‘magic.’  I smiled; and went into the laundry, and did a few chores.

   About half an hour later I went to sit outside again on the back verandah, to enjoy the cold sunshine there, for soon the day would be gone. I glanced up. I saw the lace fringed skyline, where the wooded hills ended and the sky began; where the dark met the light. And I leaned back; and listened.

   Surrender and Not-Knowing, this was my ‘rock of offence,’ the two things I didn’t naturally want to do! They were my two stones of stumbling: my URIM and THUMMIN. And I wondered if there was more to them. Was there more that I needed to understand, in order to go further, and breakthrough the darkness which was always there just one step ahead?

   The first, Surrender that was straight forward to me; because it was something I chose; or liked to think that I did. (Although I sensed it was chosen for me, and before the world began. I did nothing of my own self; of my own self I could do nothing.) And being my choice, I experienced the happiness inherent in that single action. It always outweighed the negatives; it made me feel good: it made me feel the warm comfort of my beloved, of being very close and, for that moment, having done the right thing. But Not-Knowing, this was something else. It was not a single thing. It was an ongoing thing. A constant thing; eating away at me! Unless I could somehow come to understand it, I would be forever struggling with it.  I would be as a caterpillar walking on treacle; a coal miner forever chipping away the black rock face before him; a diver with only a limited supply of air in his tank. What I needed was a new and constant ‘air supply!’ A continual life supply. Of, real living. And what was living? Even as I was asking I was answered.  

   Living was a state of not knowing; a case of not being sure: a matter of not seeing what was next. That was what it was all about; for that was what kept it from stagnating, and dying! Because where I knew, there I was set on the unsure path; the path of a drifting away from the receiving of Life: because where I was convinced that I knew, there I did not look any further. (There was no need. I thought I already knew!) So there the spark of Life faded; and more and more till there was nothing of it left; and it died there, lost.

   I could not know any more, where I already knew!

   But of course, this matter of not knowing; this state of being uncertain, did not feel very nice! Naturally, I would focus on the unpleasantness of that. And so that was where I became unglued. Because a not-nice feeling I mistook for a negative thing. How could it be good?  I had not yet learned how to get past the inner unpleasantness; and go further; and get beyond the nebulous unrest of my insidious wantings; the empty gnawing feeling that makes holes in my middle.

   I looked up. I noticed that there was more blue coming through now; the high cloud being scattered in the strong winds up there. I was being drawn nearer. Turning to the western skies I saw a long narrow streak; white, and straight as a ruler, running across the rimming blue. A jet was flying northeast towards the Pacific. Suddenly I saw. There was a barrier to life. There really was. Of course there was. And it was always there. Just as the sound barrier for a jet plane, is always there. …But that could be broken – by going through it! Oh, then perhaps my ‘life barrier’ could be broken, too? By going ‘faster,’ and ‘breaking through’ it! Through that locked door made of my inner ‘wantings,’ which were constantly making their uncomfortable presence felt inside. Of course! I had to face it head on. Turn it around. Make it my joy. Where I felt and embraced it, there I embraced life! There, the realm of Everland flowing with milk and honey! Filling up all my hollow holes of wanting, taking them away!

   Oh. Life was all the time; willing and waiting for me to break through and embrace it! Life was all delight and joy in the midst of all that was contrary! Turning emptiness to fullness in accepting its unattractive appearance!

   But the spirit of Life was as fleeting as sheet lightening; as transitory as a snowflake! The barrier had to be constantly faced, and embraced. Constantly ‘turned:’ turned, unlocked, and opened into something else – if it was to be immediately effective and maintained and not lost!  ‘Snowflakes,’ to star patterned life-giving water! ‘Sheet lightening,’ to life-giving sight and energy, ‘the force that through the green fuse drives the flower.’

   The barrier of my inner un-comfortableness at not-knowing had first to be converted to break through it. Turned back-to-front and upside down, and therefore: the right way round; for my ‘not-knowing’ when it was embraced turned into Life! Acceptance converted it to its opposite. Converting my darkness, to light! My negativity, to positivity! My bad, to good! NOT-KNOWING really was the key! The other half of the answer! The other key to the door in the tree of Life! The ‘key’ was put in the ‘keyhole;’ in the lock in my door inside of me. Now the door opened. And all my former discomfort, and gnawing-emptiness of not-knowing, was turned and converted: filled full with warmed comfort in joy all unspeakable filled with glory!

   A playful paw of wind pounced on the verandah pushing further open the French doors behind me. I turned to look. Both were open. I saw the two keys hanging from their cup hooks on the dresser, their labels flying. Suddenly it all tied in with what I had been shown before. My cup of joy had to be tipped out in order for it to be filled with fresh joy. Wherever I did not first empty my cup, it could not be refilled with new wine! Oh, and there is the bursting of the sound barrier and the champagne of new life!

    SURRENDER and NOT-KNOWING empty my soul, so that it can be filled anew; and with twice as much as before with everything that is truly worth KNOWING and HAVING. And truly, I have!

     

                                                                        *

The Pages the Wind Blew Through...

     

  During the course of a restful day, I found myself remembering a specific period of time in my past, and I felt that there were things there that needed greater clarity. 

   I settled down to write about what had happened when suddenly I was given a vision in my mind’s eye. I was looking ahead, but before me on the ground I saw a line of books laid out like a series of stepping stones leading into the future.  In a flash I understood what it was I was seeing. Each one of those books had helped me in the past. They had been as ‘stepping stones’ in my thinking leading me onward, stage by stage and little by little, to where I now was.

  I realized that I needed to acknowledge the part they had played in my life, and to be thankful for them. Though these books were now gone, I no longer had them, they had been as vital components creating the pathway by which I had travelled in my understanding to where I now was.

  Books are each one precious, and to be treasured. Books can take us so far, they can open up a whole new world for us, and we need to assimilate what it is they have for us, and then move on; while at the same time being thankful for them and for how they were used to guide us throughout our lives.

 The day was glorious. Something unique and beautiful was in this day; I sensed it within as I woke up. Later, there was joy all through me, and so strong it seemed I was being lifted up on tiptoes my feet hardly touching the ground! But there was no reason for it that I could fathom; especially since this was a very difficult time in my life.

  It was about a year past the beginning of the long period of having no books but one. We were living at that time on a farm in central Northland, near Twin Bridges. As I say, the books were gone, and I was bereft of all human helpers and teachers; both live ones and written ones; I was spiritually totally alone: I belonged nowhere, and to nothing.  

  Finding a shoulder bag to carry my one remaining volume in and a towel to sit on I set off determined to enjoy the sunny afternoon. After leaving the large homestead there would be just three fences to cross before the river. I soon crossed the last fence, bordering a lovely wildflower filled meadow and the river about thirty feet below it, and pushed my way through the trees and bushes till I found the track down to the river. It was very steep. Hanging on to slender trunks and coarse grasses I slithered my way down the slope, till the last part just before one had to jump down it. Here I paused beside a young manuka on a level bit of track, and looked around.

  This particular spot by the river was very beautiful and the children and I came here often. The river widened here into a shallow pool overshadowed by dangling willow branches. The riverbank on the other side was high and steep, too; and beyond it was a wattle tree plantation.

  The countryside all around was tranquil. There were no houses nearby. It was simply a private piece of paradise. In fact, the whole five hundred acres of this bull and sheep farm was a paradise for us; and the sense of being privileged to live here never left me. In my mind it resembled a park or the grounds of some English stately home: there were large trees scattered here and there in the midst of the meadows; and clusters and pockets of them in little dells. It made me homesick for England so very far away and unobtainable.

  The whole farm was bordered by this meandering river, on one edge of it, and by a dark pine forest high up on the skyline on the other. And in amongst the rolling fields, nestled in the folds of the hills was a small lake, from which a stream flowed. It ran down past the homestead where it became its water supply.   

   I grabbed hold tighter to the trunk of the sapling where I stood, surveying the beauty, and looking down at the river. ‘A water supply…,’ I thought. This was my quandary; my pain. I felt as if I had lost an inner supply of it, with the taking away of all my books. They had been as ‘the water of life’ to me; and I didn’t know how I would find my way, without any more of such books. While I loved living on this stunningly beautiful farm it had recently been a place of trauma for me and fear; but although I didn’t know it yet, this was all a part of the plan and I was at the beginning of a new era in my life; one where LIFE began where I moved out beyond the things I knew.

  Letting go the skinny manuka I jumped down the last bit of the track. After landing awkwardly I picked myself up and walked along the riverbank a few metres, through the willows to the miniature beach. I spread my towel amongst the papyrus grasses at the edge of it, and took my book out also, and put it open, on a rock beside me.

  I was sitting in an area of sunshine; enjoying the warmth of the sun on my arms and legs. A patchwork of dappled light was filtering through the branches overhead, dancing on the sandy shore and the river. Through the branches peeped the distant sky looking crystal blue; a place to see through for a squillion miles. I gazed upward awhile; my heart’s questioning, rising; involuntary coming to the fore, as a splinter will from out of septic flesh. …One’s specific purpose and gifted work in this world, could it be understood and guided by intuition alone? Or, had I been wrong, and I needed those books? Was I foolish to have given away, all that predigested fodder, my once precious books all infused with the best of humankind’s interpretations of the best religious knowledge? Was I insane? Was I crazy to give up all this? Had I let go too much? In a sudden dip of energy I felt destitute . . . lost.

  The sunshine melted away, and I was in shade now where I sat. I looked down at the parched grass between the papyrus, and at the coarse sand and pebbles on the little beach at my feet. Though the sun no longer shone on it, it was still all alive, and full of life how could I doubt it!

  An ant crawled slowly over my hand. I shook it gently off and watched it scurry away. It, too, was intent on its business of living. First it went one way then the other; turning back on itself several times. I continued to watch it as it went to and fro through the grass. For few moments it stopped completely before a small stone. A mountain for an ant, I thought! Then it was as though it knew exactly what to do, and took off! It sped up and away over the stone, and it was gone. I blinked. I paused.

  It was guided innately, within itself, I mused; all it needed was within it; it needed nothing else. All of a sudden, I caught what it was I was thinking! Suddenly, it all seemed so very obvious! Then all real knowing came in the twinkling! In the touch of light, as light as a feather; and as fleet as an ant.

  I was answered! Light burst within, and rose up in a bubble of joy. How clear it was now! Vision and purpose, so integral to every living thing was in every living thing! Life, in full measure was happening all around; Love, holding all the atoms together: so Life and Love was fully in me too . . . nothing missing!

  I looked up through the bit of blue above me, the informing sky; the realm of ‘sequined dresses;’ firsthand experiences were the ‘books’ to learn from, and all the help I needed, I realized! Wrestled with within, through surrender and love, understood there and learned from, through the ‘stepping backwards process,’ and all assayed and assimilated, by the mind of the spirit: here was the source and crucible of all the living wisdom and knowledge one needed to know!

  The small collection of books that I’d had, had been good, excellent; on that particular level of understanding that they were on they could not be faulted; they’d encouraged me greatly for many years. But, like little six-year-old Anna, I’d already ‘got’ the message, so didn’t need it regurgitated any more in the same dimension. How could you ever go any farther that way? And move beyond what you knew, to what you didn’t know? Always there was more! But, as I say, it isn’t easy; nothing worth having is!

  I didn’t realize, until too late, that the more one kept on reading the same sort of thing that one was accustomed with, the more it began to undo all the good it had previously done. It subtly made one stop thinking for oneself: confining thought to one plane: crippling the stretching of our understanding and imagination, so necessary for vision and openness to go farther on in our inner-life. It had all wound me up in static convoluted way of thinking, creating a mental spiral which had got tighter and tighter, until I finally broke down and became very ill. …But, as always, LIFE begins at the point where we put ourselves out and give up our own way! Pain is not bad. Pain is good. Without it we would never grow up!

  ‘The ant…!’ I spoke aloud; I remembered the ant. First it went one way…then the other! …Turning back on itself…several times! That is the process of LIFE! That’s just how LIFE is! 

  A little bird sped by, a welcome swallow. It made me look up. Through an opening in the willow branches overhead I glimpsed a hawk, or a falcon gliding high up in the bright azure sky. Simultaneously, a picture of another bird of prey came to mind: an eagle. Suddenly I remembered something I had learned about budding new eagles on the brink of life, and smiled. When it was time to leave the nest the mother eagle threw her babies out of it! They had no option but to learn to fly, or perish! It was her method of teaching her young! It was drastic, but it worked! Instantly enthused, as I took it in, realizing where I was, spiritually, a burst of joy and energy rose up inside me. I was flying!

  All at once I felt a gust of wind. My one Book, lying open on the rock at my side, shook, and seemed to come to life. The thin pages began to flip over and over in quick succession. I held my breath! Caught in a sense of timelessness, I observed the pages turning by themselves in the wind, and I was thrilled at the sight! Then just as quickly as the wind had come it suddenly ceased. The pages stopped turning and I breathed again. But for a few moments, I was still and waiting; and then I saw what it meant!

  I had read it for so long the Book was all in me, and in all of me: its work done! Now its human interpreters and commentators were in the past; ‘turned over’ by something greater than any human power; and understood beyond any intellectual ability to do so: being surpassed by LIFE alone: alone all sufficient to teach and illumine me. Just as it had been for me in the beginning of my life, I could rely on the Wind of the Spirit to work ‘the turning of the pages;’ after all, it was his own Book!

  But what of the darkness I was in; my path was like none other; terrible in the eyes of my acquaintances; worse still in my own eyes. Everything I could do to work out my life by myself had been taken from me. Everything about my path was incomprehensible; I could not figure it out; it made no sense.

  I stood up. I walked to the edge of the river before me, looking out and around at all the beauty of this hidden place. I saw how the light shone into the pool shimmering over the smooth stones just a few feet below the surface, their colours enhanced by it and made more alive. I saw the willows dip in their long yellowing leaves, and how the fallen ones once freed flowed with the river on its journey to the sea. Wind and water, stones and willows: all symbols of that which was greater that had given them their being.

  Something made me turn my head. I looked back towards the rock near where I had been sitting. And as my gaze fell upon the open Book, I suddenly wondered where it was that the pages had stopped turning? I went over and picked it up, and read. ‘…I will destroy and devour at once. I will make waste mountains and hills, and dry up all their herbs; and I will make the rivers islands, and I will dry up the pools. And I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not; I will lead them in paths that they have not known: I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them, and not forsake them.’ Isaiah 42: 14-16

  I went and sat down on the towel again, the Book open on my lap. Birds were singing. The sunshine had returned. And I was warmed, all through my being. How true it all was, I thought. My knowledge ‘mountains and hills,’ that I had thought so important to understand, had been proven to be no longer of any use: the ‘herbs,’ the insightful things which had grown upon them, had now shrivelled up for me, and died! My internal ‘rivers,’ they had been cut off: they didn’t flow anywhere that was LIFE! They had become as ineffectual as ‘islands:’ islands didn’t go anywhere! All my ‘pools’ of comfort were dried up. The way I had been living it had all ‘turned to custard!’

  I read on. …But it wasn’t a disaster! It was only that my way was being turned upside down! Suddenly I understood. I was going to be led in a new way! On a new path! A path in which I ‘knew not’ but going on it I would know! A way in which one made progress not by knowing, but by not-knowing! Head knowledge surpassed by Spirit knowledge! Now, being made as though I were ‘blind,’ I would be led on a path I hadn’t known existed! My ‘darkness’ would be my light: my ‘not-knowing-ness’ the vehicle to take me onwards: there being space in me to go there, because I didn’t fill it up by saying ‘I know!’  …Oh, but being turned upside down and back-to-front, this would all seem ‘crooked’ to me! Yes, of course, so that I couldn’t judge that I was right, and get trapped in my own self-righteousness: and be truly blind!   

  What’s more, all this was meant to be!! All I had gone through, it had been ‘done unto’ me that I might not be forsaken! It had been the best possible thing that could ever have happened!!  I was filled with joy. The ‘destroying’ and the ‘devouring:’ the dark jolt and the invigorating insight: both were a life-giving consuming; and both at the same time! Our light being made dark: the dark made Light; turned around, we could see!  

  I saw it all now as universal truth; it was marvellous! The old had past, the new had come! I laughed. I was free! It was all ridiculous and just plain crazy! But in the twinkling of an eye I had been turned around one hundred and eighty degrees, and made incredibly happy!

  I looked up and out across the shallow river. Shafts of hazy light, light made visible by the particles in the air were streaming down. Fingerlings of the sun were illumining the willows on the other riverbank. Shades of their dark and light and beauty and truth were being met and matched; kissed by love flowing through the energizing light.    

  I heard a small sound, a tiny plop, and saw a series of concentric circles on the water . . . ripples from a small brown trout as it leapt to catch an unsuspecting fly near the surface of the river. …I suddenly thought of Jonah, inside the belly of the great fish; ‘destroyed and devoured:’ consumed in order to be given what he really needed! I watched the silver ripples until they faded away and the water was still again . . . understanding just a little bit more . . . and thankful for what I had read.

  For all of us, the small but ever expanding circles of influence rippling through our lives could carry Life! They could lift our new wisdom and understanding – free of knowledge barriers – and from there become part of a whole new insightful generation initiating new things to raise up new BOOKS . . . living pages the Wind blew through . . . to take us even farther; and ever onwards and upwards!

                                                   

                                                   *

"A peculiar people..."

                          

     There was a movement in the Earth, as though it were cracking open in places; then the same thing happened in the Heavens, as though they were being made open, too. All at once, inside of my heart, I was face down on the ground; my face in my own dust within; and, at that same moment, I knew the golden ark revealed: it was ‘opened,’ within. (It was later the understanding came, that it was made ‘open:’ revealed, upon a person’s fall to the dust; I didn’t know that at the time.) After awhile I was able to rise and walk within ‘the falling down;’ it was an inward thing; and there all things are possible. There in the opened ark were three living things: a tree of life out of death, and a heart filled with hidden sustenance and nourishment, and twin writings in which the law of love was written: being indelibly inscribed upon the living pages of a person’s broken heart.

   A peculiar treasure it was; one which could create "a peculiar people;" a people transformed inside, and made different. An unusual people; simple, uncluttered; so set free and loving. Yet, seemingly strange; or, unpredictable; containing many diverse facets, of unique, or peculiar, expressions of truth. Being as they were un-pinned down; un-captured; and so transparent, it was as though they could walk through walls: no longer any binding forms of anything to tie them down.

   

                                                                          *

'A little book open...'

                           

   Slain on the inside, utterly exposed to oneself, a person there is as ‘a little book opened.’ Knowing all its self: knowing all things: it is ‘loosed of its seven seals.’ It is loosed from all that hides it from itself. Being utterly known is being utterly found; and all things which are made visible belong to such a one. ‘Loosed of its seven seals’ all blinding scales of self deceit are removed from its eyes, in knowing what was inside itself.

   ‘A little book opened’ is also as a golden container of the heavenly treasure within a covering veil of earthly flesh. The container is as an ancient rectangular box, with a lid; and on the lid, and at each end of it, cherubim; and between the two cherubim: the place of abiding love and mercy. And the faces of the two cherubim look one to another: face to face; and because the place between them is full of forgiving love and kindness they can behold the reflection of their own two faces; they can bear it, and face the light of the truth of their own heart’s condition before God in great peace. 

                                                                            *

The Room Within...

      I saw a flash of light, and a curtain was drawn back. A room was found within that only a fallen candle could illumine. It was the unknown place. That dark, hidden, innermost room within each living fiery stone. Of course, they had guessed of its existence, but not that they were known there, and that nothing could hide what they were there. While some tried desperately to hide from the sharp lit candles, others heard, and exchanged their inert darkness there, within their inner room, for precious growing things; beautiful things. And its doors were made of living pearl, and its floors of pure gold like transparent glass. And to the inner lining of the room there were twelve living gems: Jasper, Sapphire, Chalcedony, Emerald, Sardonyx, Sardius, Chrysolyte, Beryl, Topaz, Chrysoprasus, Jacinth, Amethyst! So that in the end, with no darkness at all in them there, all that could be said of them might be written on a single emerald, that they might reign as kings in life; and live as lowly servants upon the earth.

                                      

                                                                                           

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A New Archer...

                                                                   
    Once there was a time when the archers drew their bow after their own ability. In mediocrity of accomplishment they were often frustrated with their method. Until, through the vague disappointment of countless generations, they eventually sought a different way of approach to the puzzle of improving their aim. Seeking, they stumbled upon the unraveling. They started to undo their problem, by turning it around. Seemingly walking backwards through it they began to be thankful, and even glad, that they had one.  That was the key. In every problem was the key to its undoing and a secret treasure. Thus they fell upon the way of light, and began to be lit. Soon they saw a strange thing. They were insufficient in themselves. They saw it. They had stumbled again upon another unravelling of their problem. Their own ability had been their opposer. What they knew was keeping them from knowing what they could know if only they acknowledged that they didn’t know. In remaining sufficient in themselves they were cutting themselves off from being sufficient in that which was beyond them. So they were opposing their own selves, opposing a more abundant life. They were their own enemy even. For their reliance upon their own strength was barring them from the joy of strength greater than their own to draw the bow and aim and release the arrow.                                                                           The archers heard. Each was given a new bow, and a new quiver; then how their arrows flew. Not one fell short and did not hit the mark. None fell short of life’s glory; for now they relied upon the eternal stream, the ever present strength within them which was not their own. They knew now, that of their own selves they could never shoot far enough. But with a new bow: a new reliance; and a new set of arrows: a new direction, they were to do, what they could not do. And they did. And their joy was full. 

Whatsoever is not of faith is ineffective.

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The Mountains of Heaven...

                                                                         A gift, beyond all gifts! I saw a mountain being taken up and cast into the sea; and where it had been was a great open place with no part in it dark, so bright the light that shone where once it was! No part dark where all the shadows flee away! No shadows the light of day was come! Every outward form of the knowledge of the truth, every surface figure of it, gone! Even the sky looked bluer, and the grass a newer shade of green; brighter, more alive!   It was like I had been living in a huge dulled place; and had grown so accustomed to its sorry look, I was unaware that it had been as a coffin’s pall, covering all the world around about me, with its dark cloak. Deadened within, wrapped in the encircling shroud of my own egocentricity, everything I had seen through it had been depleted of its glory; and, though I knew it not it had deceived me, for by it the truth had been veiled to me. Then, suddenly, as though with the flick of a switch, the light turned on, and all became new; the old, gone! With death’s withering shroud removed all things were made, new! The veil over the mind of all nations taken away in an instant!   And I saw that ‘I’ could remove a mountain, and cast it into the sea all ‘in the twinkling of an eye’ if I did but spin about, the other way! Turned about, and made alive, then where I once saw through the veil, in dread, now I saw, in freedom! The mountain shrank. No longer had it any power to grip or hold me cast to the sea of forget: far removed from the sting of death it didn’t exist for me anymore!    Looking again, I heard and saw. Vain righteousness, my selfish demand to be right, that lust in me that had once been my shroud, was cast aside! My fig tree, withered! My sanctimonious mountain, which bore no fruit of life, was removed! And all my once prized merchandize was, gone! Truth so bright and clear, I could no longer be deceived, as one dispensation of light, passed: outgrown for another!   Oh, glad and happy day that did away with shadows! In the fullness of time my mind had come of age and the former things of its infancy not needed any more! Turned, the day of days! A day, grown up! A day without clouds! Turned, of my beloved, a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of separation, swallowing up death in victory casting my mountain into the sea! …And where was any sting there, if death was life? And where was any grave, if loss was joy? Or, where was any life, where death was a sting to me? And where was any victory, where loss was not my joy? There, if I was not a conqueror of myself, and I was ruled by my own shroud, I would be left behind! A blind captive of a bygone age, tilting windmills!

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