"Here it is," said Story Teller.
1. We are stories.
2. Our stories tell us.
3. The Story of God is a story.
4. The Story of God tells us.
Friday, January 23, 2015
Thursday, January 22, 2015
roses and turnips
The Convocation of Story Tellers met in the garden.
One of their members was speaking on "What's In A Name?"
She said, "I quote a Master Story Teller. 'What’s in a name? that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.'"
"I'm not so sure that I agree with the Old Bard here. In its context, the story of Romeo and Juliet, it makes sense. As a general rule however, I don't think so."
"If a rose were called a turnip, would it still smell as sweet? How about if it were called 'shit 'or 'radioactive waste'?
"You might object. You might say that 'turnip' and 'shit' and 'waste' already have negative connotations but that if a rose had been called 'turnip' from the start, there would be no problem.
"Listen to this: That which we call a turnip by any other name would smell as sweet.
"Now this: That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
"Say the words aloud. Rose. Turnip. The sounds are different. Consider this: The sounds of the words produce a different meaning. Rose starts with a rrrr, a purring sound, and quickly opens to ohhh, an expression of wonder, and then sss, a soft sigh which ends abruptly and there it is! A rose! Purr, wonder, sigh.
"Turnip starts with an almost barking tuh, a forced entry into the world, and then uhr, as if one is not exactly certain, ending with a nip, a sharp bite which breaks the skin.
"The sound 'turnip' is appropriate for calling to mind a turnip. The sound 'rose' is appropriate for conjuring the image of a rose.
"The sounding of a word helps produce its meaning. This is not new news though most rarely think about it."
"Except the cunning linguists!" exclaimed a member of the audience.
Those seated next to him beat him with their programs.
The speaker laughed. "An excellent example. An appropriate sounding."
"But there is more to it than that," said the Story Teller speaker.
"Each word itself has and is a texture, a a texture that is sub-sonic, ultra-sonic, meta-sonic. Beyond the realm of ordinary sound. A vibrational hum that calls into existence what it is sounding.
"I refer you to the lines written by another ancestor Story Teller: 'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.'
"The Word brings all into existence. The Word was here in the beginning. Nothing precedes the Word. Nothing. No thing. Blank. Void. Not even blank and void and nothing. For those are words."
The audience grew even more silent as they let understanding sink in.
The Story Teller speaker brought them back into an appropriate space for dismissal and lunch.
"I end my talk with this paraphrase of another ancestor Story Teller, an ancestress, one I hope you will keep in mind. A turnip is a turnip is a turnip!"
They sat stunned for a moment by the imagery and its meaning. Then burst into applause.
One of their members was speaking on "What's In A Name?"
She said, "I quote a Master Story Teller. 'What’s in a name? that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.'"
"I'm not so sure that I agree with the Old Bard here. In its context, the story of Romeo and Juliet, it makes sense. As a general rule however, I don't think so."
"If a rose were called a turnip, would it still smell as sweet? How about if it were called 'shit 'or 'radioactive waste'?
"You might object. You might say that 'turnip' and 'shit' and 'waste' already have negative connotations but that if a rose had been called 'turnip' from the start, there would be no problem.
"Listen to this: That which we call a turnip by any other name would smell as sweet.
"Now this: That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
"Say the words aloud. Rose. Turnip. The sounds are different. Consider this: The sounds of the words produce a different meaning. Rose starts with a rrrr, a purring sound, and quickly opens to ohhh, an expression of wonder, and then sss, a soft sigh which ends abruptly and there it is! A rose! Purr, wonder, sigh.
"Turnip starts with an almost barking tuh, a forced entry into the world, and then uhr, as if one is not exactly certain, ending with a nip, a sharp bite which breaks the skin.
"The sound 'turnip' is appropriate for calling to mind a turnip. The sound 'rose' is appropriate for conjuring the image of a rose.
"The sounding of a word helps produce its meaning. This is not new news though most rarely think about it."
"Except the cunning linguists!" exclaimed a member of the audience.
Those seated next to him beat him with their programs.
The speaker laughed. "An excellent example. An appropriate sounding."
"But there is more to it than that," said the Story Teller speaker.
"Each word itself has and is a texture, a a texture that is sub-sonic, ultra-sonic, meta-sonic. Beyond the realm of ordinary sound. A vibrational hum that calls into existence what it is sounding.
"I refer you to the lines written by another ancestor Story Teller: 'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.'
"The Word brings all into existence. The Word was here in the beginning. Nothing precedes the Word. Nothing. No thing. Blank. Void. Not even blank and void and nothing. For those are words."
The audience grew even more silent as they let understanding sink in.
The Story Teller speaker brought them back into an appropriate space for dismissal and lunch.
"I end my talk with this paraphrase of another ancestor Story Teller, an ancestress, one I hope you will keep in mind. A turnip is a turnip is a turnip!"
They sat stunned for a moment by the imagery and its meaning. Then burst into applause.
Monday, January 19, 2015
the two arms of the cross
"Tonight I wish to tell you the story of the cross," said Story Teller.
The community settled in around the nightly fire, putting themselves in listening mode.
"When Yahweh decided to enter the world as Yeshua and create a new relationship with humans, he chose a particular time and place. Part of that choice was the mode of execution at the time.
"He did not choose the time of the electric chair nor the time of lethal injection. In which case some followers of Yeshua would be wearing tiny electric chairs or needles on chains around their neck. No. He chose the time of the cross.
"What does the cross mean? Some see it as a symbol of suffering. And it is. But it is more than that.
"The cross is a symbol of the human condition. We are nailed to the cross of space and time. X marks our spot. We exist in the midst of above and below, the past and the future. This causes continuous difficulty, anger and despair, confusion and pain.
"We are nailed in our consciousness to viewing ourselves and others in the vertical realm of superior and inferior. Some of us see ourselves as superior and others as inferior. Others of us go the opposite way. Yahweh came as Yeshua to shift this perverted way of thinking and experiencing. Neither way works. Superior either falls or hardens into a cyst of self-worship. Inferior takes solace wherever it can find it, often in feeling superior.
"In the horizontal realm of time, we experience ourselves as both past and of an uncertain future. We forget to live in this Now. We torture ourselves with regrets and imagined apocalypses..
"These are the two arms of our cross.
The children were snoozing in their parent's arms. The adults were wide awake, each listening in accord with the amount of capaciousness they allowed.
"The good news is that Yeshua did not stay on the cross. We do not have to either."
"How do we get off the cross, Story Teller?" asked a young man.
"Through a shift in consciousness," said Story Teller. "Through Love."
"When we open our hearts to ourselves and each other and to all that exists, we get off the cross. Rather than staying in a state of separation, experiencing ourselves as an isolated protoplasmic blob, no matter how grand our blobness, we open to the cosmic interflow of grace and love.
"Yeshua said 'Take up your cross and follow me.' That means get off that thing, pull it up from the ground and throw it down so no one else will climb up on it. Then follow the example of Yeshua. He leaped into the cosmos and merged.
"Do the same. Claim your merge-inty. "
People smiled.
"It's all about Love," said Story Teller. "First, love yourself. Then love everyone else. If you don't do the first, you can't do the other. You can tell if you truly love yourself. If you don't love everyone else then you don't."
The community settled in around the nightly fire, putting themselves in listening mode.
"When Yahweh decided to enter the world as Yeshua and create a new relationship with humans, he chose a particular time and place. Part of that choice was the mode of execution at the time.
"He did not choose the time of the electric chair nor the time of lethal injection. In which case some followers of Yeshua would be wearing tiny electric chairs or needles on chains around their neck. No. He chose the time of the cross.
"What does the cross mean? Some see it as a symbol of suffering. And it is. But it is more than that.
"The cross is a symbol of the human condition. We are nailed to the cross of space and time. X marks our spot. We exist in the midst of above and below, the past and the future. This causes continuous difficulty, anger and despair, confusion and pain.
"We are nailed in our consciousness to viewing ourselves and others in the vertical realm of superior and inferior. Some of us see ourselves as superior and others as inferior. Others of us go the opposite way. Yahweh came as Yeshua to shift this perverted way of thinking and experiencing. Neither way works. Superior either falls or hardens into a cyst of self-worship. Inferior takes solace wherever it can find it, often in feeling superior.
"In the horizontal realm of time, we experience ourselves as both past and of an uncertain future. We forget to live in this Now. We torture ourselves with regrets and imagined apocalypses..
"These are the two arms of our cross.
The children were snoozing in their parent's arms. The adults were wide awake, each listening in accord with the amount of capaciousness they allowed.
"The good news is that Yeshua did not stay on the cross. We do not have to either."
"How do we get off the cross, Story Teller?" asked a young man.
"Through a shift in consciousness," said Story Teller. "Through Love."
"When we open our hearts to ourselves and each other and to all that exists, we get off the cross. Rather than staying in a state of separation, experiencing ourselves as an isolated protoplasmic blob, no matter how grand our blobness, we open to the cosmic interflow of grace and love.
"Yeshua said 'Take up your cross and follow me.' That means get off that thing, pull it up from the ground and throw it down so no one else will climb up on it. Then follow the example of Yeshua. He leaped into the cosmos and merged.
"Do the same. Claim your merge-inty. "
People smiled.
"It's all about Love," said Story Teller. "First, love yourself. Then love everyone else. If you don't do the first, you can't do the other. You can tell if you truly love yourself. If you don't love everyone else then you don't."
Saturday, January 17, 2015
Godology 101: In Side, Out Side, Same Side
When Story Teller came to town, people opened their homes to him for his rest and sleep. They liked having him around. His radiant energy calmed them, made them happy.
He was with his hosts this morning in their back yard of fruit trees and flowers.
A few neighbors had dropped by.
As expected, Story Teller began telling them more of God and his desired relationship with humans.
He called these early morning talks Godology.
"Welcome to Godology 101," he said with a laugh.
"As you know from my evening talks around the community fire, God decided long ago to have a closer relationship with humans, to let us know that we are embodyings of his energy, of his passion and compassion, that separation exists only in the limitations of our awareness."
"Godology 101 is designed to open our awareness.
"This morning we focus on In Side, Out Side, Same Side.
"We humans live in more than one world at once. The physical body world. The emotional world. The mental world. The imaginal world. The social world.
"We also live in the energy world. We are energetic beings. Our quantity of energy rises and falls. Our quality of energy shifts and changes. The energy we are radiates outward and affects all around us.
"If you are grouchy in the morning, the rest of us have to shift our energy to deal with grouch. As Sir Arthur Eddington said, 'When an electron vibrates, the universe shakes.' As you are, so goes the world around you.
"In the other worlds (physical, emotional, mental, imaginal, and social), we perceive an inside and an outside. In the Energy world, inside and outside do not exist. In side, out side, same side.
"Energy is a flow, or more accurately, a flowing. The energy that formed this cosmos continues flowing. We are currents in this flow. We are flowings of the cosmos with social security numbers. Thus we live in many dimensions at once.
"A question for each of us is which dimension do we choose to make our base dimension. For example, do we choose to embody the physical and let the rest fend for itself? Which of the five worlds or dimensions that I have mentioned have you made your major base of operation?
"When choosing to embody the energy of the cosmos, of our Source, of our Origin, we continue to embody the physical, the emotional, the mental, the imaginal, the social. Yet now they are transformed.
"There is nothing 'religious' about this. It is practical. It is the way it is. All is interflow.
"This is the relationship that God opened in his journeying with us humans. The inside and the outside are the same side. Con-side-eration. Consideration."
"Deep and heavy stuff," said a neighbor.
"Only if you are making it a mental thing or giving it emotional resistance," said Story Teller. "When you are living it, it is as natural and light as the morning breeze."
The wind rustled the leaves of the back yard fruit trees. A bird began singing.
He was with his hosts this morning in their back yard of fruit trees and flowers.
A few neighbors had dropped by.
As expected, Story Teller began telling them more of God and his desired relationship with humans.
He called these early morning talks Godology.
"Welcome to Godology 101," he said with a laugh.
"As you know from my evening talks around the community fire, God decided long ago to have a closer relationship with humans, to let us know that we are embodyings of his energy, of his passion and compassion, that separation exists only in the limitations of our awareness."
"Godology 101 is designed to open our awareness.
"This morning we focus on In Side, Out Side, Same Side.
"We humans live in more than one world at once. The physical body world. The emotional world. The mental world. The imaginal world. The social world.
"We also live in the energy world. We are energetic beings. Our quantity of energy rises and falls. Our quality of energy shifts and changes. The energy we are radiates outward and affects all around us.
"If you are grouchy in the morning, the rest of us have to shift our energy to deal with grouch. As Sir Arthur Eddington said, 'When an electron vibrates, the universe shakes.' As you are, so goes the world around you.
"In the other worlds (physical, emotional, mental, imaginal, and social), we perceive an inside and an outside. In the Energy world, inside and outside do not exist. In side, out side, same side.
"Energy is a flow, or more accurately, a flowing. The energy that formed this cosmos continues flowing. We are currents in this flow. We are flowings of the cosmos with social security numbers. Thus we live in many dimensions at once.
"A question for each of us is which dimension do we choose to make our base dimension. For example, do we choose to embody the physical and let the rest fend for itself? Which of the five worlds or dimensions that I have mentioned have you made your major base of operation?
"When choosing to embody the energy of the cosmos, of our Source, of our Origin, we continue to embody the physical, the emotional, the mental, the imaginal, the social. Yet now they are transformed.
"There is nothing 'religious' about this. It is practical. It is the way it is. All is interflow.
"This is the relationship that God opened in his journeying with us humans. The inside and the outside are the same side. Con-side-eration. Consideration."
"Deep and heavy stuff," said a neighbor.
"Only if you are making it a mental thing or giving it emotional resistance," said Story Teller. "When you are living it, it is as natural and light as the morning breeze."
The wind rustled the leaves of the back yard fruit trees. A bird began singing.
Friday, January 16, 2015
the Source sourcing
"I do not understand, Story Teller. How can a person be both a human and God?"
The question came from the other side of the fire.
Everyone grew silent.
Story Teller's heart smiled. This was one of his favorite communities. People here thought and thought deeply.
"Where did you come from?" asked Story Teller.
"My mother gave birth to me."
"Yes," said Story Teller. "And her mother gave birth to her. When you go back through all those ancestors, where did they come from?"
"The Earth."
"Where did the Earth come from?"
"The Earth is part of an outflowing of the Cosmos."
Yes," said Story Teller, "Part of an explosion of Energy expanding outward in all directions."
"I know what you are going to ask me next," said the questioner. "Where did the expanding Energy come from?"
Story Teller laughed. "What is your answer?"
"We don't know. It is a mystery."
"In the language I speak and many of us speak," said Story Teller, "this Mystery is called God. God is birthing us even now."
"You are that original Energy still expanding. You are the Origin originating. You are the Source sourcing. You are a child of God."
A small breeze blew. The fire popped.
Some felt the energetic connection with the Source. Others thought about it in their minds.
"Yeshua put it this way," said Story Teller. "To truly know this, we have to be born of both water and the Spirit."
"The water is the water of the amniotic fluid in which you floated in the womb. Your mother's 'water broke,' as we say, and you were born. This is the first birth."
"The second birth is the birth of an Awareness. You become aware that you are not only the human that does the daily human things. You are also this Life-Force, this dynamic energy."
"Yeshua called it Spirit and compared it to the wind. You cannot see it, yet you can feel its effects. You do not know where it comes from nor where it is going, yet you are it."
They were still listening, were following what he was saying. "I love these people," thought Story Teller.
"We are the Source sourcing. We are God godding. Yeshua said, 'You are gods.' He also said that when we open to this awareness, we are his brothers and sisters."
Story Teller allowed room for this to sink in. A young woman with a beautiful voice started singing.
The question came from the other side of the fire.
Everyone grew silent.
Story Teller's heart smiled. This was one of his favorite communities. People here thought and thought deeply.
"Where did you come from?" asked Story Teller.
"My mother gave birth to me."
"Yes," said Story Teller. "And her mother gave birth to her. When you go back through all those ancestors, where did they come from?"
"The Earth."
"Where did the Earth come from?"
"The Earth is part of an outflowing of the Cosmos."
Yes," said Story Teller, "Part of an explosion of Energy expanding outward in all directions."
"I know what you are going to ask me next," said the questioner. "Where did the expanding Energy come from?"
Story Teller laughed. "What is your answer?"
"We don't know. It is a mystery."
"In the language I speak and many of us speak," said Story Teller, "this Mystery is called God. God is birthing us even now."
"You are that original Energy still expanding. You are the Origin originating. You are the Source sourcing. You are a child of God."
A small breeze blew. The fire popped.
Some felt the energetic connection with the Source. Others thought about it in their minds.
"Yeshua put it this way," said Story Teller. "To truly know this, we have to be born of both water and the Spirit."
"The water is the water of the amniotic fluid in which you floated in the womb. Your mother's 'water broke,' as we say, and you were born. This is the first birth."
"The second birth is the birth of an Awareness. You become aware that you are not only the human that does the daily human things. You are also this Life-Force, this dynamic energy."
"Yeshua called it Spirit and compared it to the wind. You cannot see it, yet you can feel its effects. You do not know where it comes from nor where it is going, yet you are it."
They were still listening, were following what he was saying. "I love these people," thought Story Teller.
"We are the Source sourcing. We are God godding. Yeshua said, 'You are gods.' He also said that when we open to this awareness, we are his brothers and sisters."
Story Teller allowed room for this to sink in. A young woman with a beautiful voice started singing.
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
the womb and the tomb
A baby was born and an elder died three days before Story Teller entered the village. There was rejoicing and there was mourning.
Story Teller saw an opportunity. After the elder's body had been respectfully buried, he announced that he would tell a special story that night at the community gathering.
They sat expectantly around the fire. The new baby was cuddled in its mother's arms.
"This is the story of the womb and the tomb," said Story Teller.
"Long ago, Yahweh, looking to create a new and close relationship with humankind, decided to be born as a human. He waited for the right moment. He found it in the willingness of a young woman who was pure of spirit and of loving heart. She conceived.
"The baby Yeshua floated in her womb.
"I don't know if any of you remember being in your mother's womb. If you do, you remember floating in a sea of fluid where every desire of yours is instantly fulfilled. You are safe and protected and nurtured. This was especially true for Yeshua because of his mother's disposition: sunny and warm and loving.
"When you were in the womb, at some point you were told that you must leave. The thought troubled you. You had grown accustomed to this world you lived in. You did not want to go.
"In addition, you were told that you would go through experiences you had not had before. You would experience pressure and gravity and light and separation. 'What are those?' you asked. 'You will find out,' you were told. 'But you will be okay. Everyone goes through this.'
"You did not like it but you saw you had no choice. Sure enough, the time arrived, you went through the birth canal and out into this world, this world of pressure and gravity and light and separation.
"This world, this womb we are now in, became familiar. You learned your way around. Though it has its peculiarities, you like it here. Then at some point you were told that you have to leave here. You shook your head. The thought troubled you. You did not want to go.
"In addition, you were told that you would go through experiences you had not had before. 'What are they?' you asked. 'You will find out,' you were told. 'But you will be okay. Everyone goes through this.'
"You do not like it but you see you have no choice. Sure enough when the time arrives, you will go through the birth canal we call dying and out into another world.
"Yahweh went through this same experience as Yeshua. He was born into this world out of his mother's womb. He gave up his life and his body was placed in a tomb. He was born out of the tomb into a new realm.
"This is the way it is. Every womb is a tomb and every tomb is a womb. This is happening right now. We are born out of the womb/tomb of the past into this moment now which quickly becomes another womb/tomb of the past. We are forever dying and being born anew."
Story Teller paused. All sat silent.
"We welcome this little one," he said. "We ask blessings on the one born out of here. And we ask blessings on us all as we continue dying to the old and opening into the new."
"Amen," said some of the elders. "Mommy, is this over now?" came the shrill voice of a child.
They all laughed.
Story Teller grinned, "Yes it is over. And just beginning."
Story Teller saw an opportunity. After the elder's body had been respectfully buried, he announced that he would tell a special story that night at the community gathering.
They sat expectantly around the fire. The new baby was cuddled in its mother's arms.
"This is the story of the womb and the tomb," said Story Teller.
"Long ago, Yahweh, looking to create a new and close relationship with humankind, decided to be born as a human. He waited for the right moment. He found it in the willingness of a young woman who was pure of spirit and of loving heart. She conceived.
"The baby Yeshua floated in her womb.
"I don't know if any of you remember being in your mother's womb. If you do, you remember floating in a sea of fluid where every desire of yours is instantly fulfilled. You are safe and protected and nurtured. This was especially true for Yeshua because of his mother's disposition: sunny and warm and loving.
"When you were in the womb, at some point you were told that you must leave. The thought troubled you. You had grown accustomed to this world you lived in. You did not want to go.
"In addition, you were told that you would go through experiences you had not had before. You would experience pressure and gravity and light and separation. 'What are those?' you asked. 'You will find out,' you were told. 'But you will be okay. Everyone goes through this.'
"You did not like it but you saw you had no choice. Sure enough, the time arrived, you went through the birth canal and out into this world, this world of pressure and gravity and light and separation.
"This world, this womb we are now in, became familiar. You learned your way around. Though it has its peculiarities, you like it here. Then at some point you were told that you have to leave here. You shook your head. The thought troubled you. You did not want to go.
"In addition, you were told that you would go through experiences you had not had before. 'What are they?' you asked. 'You will find out,' you were told. 'But you will be okay. Everyone goes through this.'
"You do not like it but you see you have no choice. Sure enough when the time arrives, you will go through the birth canal we call dying and out into another world.
"Yahweh went through this same experience as Yeshua. He was born into this world out of his mother's womb. He gave up his life and his body was placed in a tomb. He was born out of the tomb into a new realm.
"This is the way it is. Every womb is a tomb and every tomb is a womb. This is happening right now. We are born out of the womb/tomb of the past into this moment now which quickly becomes another womb/tomb of the past. We are forever dying and being born anew."
Story Teller paused. All sat silent.
"We welcome this little one," he said. "We ask blessings on the one born out of here. And we ask blessings on us all as we continue dying to the old and opening into the new."
"Amen," said some of the elders. "Mommy, is this over now?" came the shrill voice of a child.
They all laughed.
Story Teller grinned, "Yes it is over. And just beginning."
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
forgiveness
"Have you ever been in love?" asked Story Teller of the community gathered around the night fire.
He travelled from place to place, belonging to no community but welcomed at every camp fire. People were happy when he came. He brought a freshness of understanding and sense of playful humor.
"Do you remember when you first fell in love? You imagined the person was a certain way and they turned out to be different."
Old married couples looked at each other and smiled. Youngsters in new love looked startled.
"They drooled on the pillow. They farted strange smells."
Everyone laughed.
"Their consciousness turned out to be different from yours. Both of you had to make adjustments."
"The love affair between God and humans is not so different.'
They grew quiet with this sudden shift in focus.
"The story is that God created us in his image. In other words, we began our existence in God's imagination. He loved us. Then we drooled on the pillow and farted."
Uneasy laughter.
"Uh oh. Now what?"
"God asked for a divorce. In fact, he figured a divorce had already happened. We did not live up to his imaginings."
"Instead of divorce, he settled on a separation. Which was an acknowledgment of the true state of things."
"There followed a long period of failed attempts at reconciliation. Both parties were in despair and angry and depressed about their situation. God did not live up to our imaginings either."
"This is when God decided to take the path of forgiveness, forgiveness of himself, and forgiveness of humans. He developed new imagination."
"Forgiveness is a necessary part of love," said Story Teller. "If you are not forgiving, you are not loving."
"Forgiveness is not for the weak," he said. "Forgiveness is a warrior of spirit way, a way of traveling unencumbered."
"Pick up a pebble. Now hold it against a person near you. Take another pebble and hold it against yourself."
They did.
"How long do you think you can do that?" he asked.
"I'm tired of it already," said Rag Bag, a village elder.
"It takes a lot of energy to keep holding something against someone or against yourself," said Story Teller.
"Okay, let it go."
The sounds of pebbles dropping and of murmuring and gentle laughter filled the night air.
"Hear that?" said Story Teller. "Those are the sounds of forgiveness."
"We forgive God as God forgives us. This is love."
Story Teller sat down.
The fire was warm and relaxing.
He travelled from place to place, belonging to no community but welcomed at every camp fire. People were happy when he came. He brought a freshness of understanding and sense of playful humor.
"Do you remember when you first fell in love? You imagined the person was a certain way and they turned out to be different."
Old married couples looked at each other and smiled. Youngsters in new love looked startled.
"They drooled on the pillow. They farted strange smells."
Everyone laughed.
"Their consciousness turned out to be different from yours. Both of you had to make adjustments."
"The love affair between God and humans is not so different.'
They grew quiet with this sudden shift in focus.
"The story is that God created us in his image. In other words, we began our existence in God's imagination. He loved us. Then we drooled on the pillow and farted."
Uneasy laughter.
"Uh oh. Now what?"
"God asked for a divorce. In fact, he figured a divorce had already happened. We did not live up to his imaginings."
"Instead of divorce, he settled on a separation. Which was an acknowledgment of the true state of things."
"There followed a long period of failed attempts at reconciliation. Both parties were in despair and angry and depressed about their situation. God did not live up to our imaginings either."
"This is when God decided to take the path of forgiveness, forgiveness of himself, and forgiveness of humans. He developed new imagination."
"Forgiveness is a necessary part of love," said Story Teller. "If you are not forgiving, you are not loving."
"Forgiveness is not for the weak," he said. "Forgiveness is a warrior of spirit way, a way of traveling unencumbered."
"Pick up a pebble. Now hold it against a person near you. Take another pebble and hold it against yourself."
They did.
"How long do you think you can do that?" he asked.
"I'm tired of it already," said Rag Bag, a village elder.
"It takes a lot of energy to keep holding something against someone or against yourself," said Story Teller.
"Okay, let it go."
The sounds of pebbles dropping and of murmuring and gentle laughter filled the night air.
"Hear that?" said Story Teller. "Those are the sounds of forgiveness."
"We forgive God as God forgives us. This is love."
Story Teller sat down.
The fire was warm and relaxing.
Monday, January 12, 2015
birthing Yeshua
"Where is your breath?" asked Story Teller.
He and a group of children were walking by the river.
The adults, the grown children, were elsewhere doing other things.
"It is inside me," said Large Boy.
"It keeps moving through me," said Sun Dawn.
"Right here," said Bear Berry, blowing through his lips.
"Is your breath always with you?" asked Story Teller.
"Yes," they sang out.
"Unless you are dead," said Book Read.
"Are you dead?" asked Story Teller.
They laughed and giggled. "No!"
"So your breath is in you, moves through you, and is always with you," said Story Teller.
They stopped their walk and sat on the grass beneath the shade of a tree beside the flowing water.
"Use your breath and say a name," said Story Teller.
"Rooster," said Sun Dawn.
"Everyone say rooster," said Story Teller. Five "roosters" sang in the air.
"When you say rooster, can you see rooster? Does rooster appear?" asked Story Teller.
"Yes, and I can hear him too," said Bear Berry.
They all began imitating Rooster with sounds and struts and wing flapping.
After they settled down, Story Teller said, "This is the way that Yahweh became Yeshua."
Their inner ears perked up. They were familiar with Story Teller's transitions, linking worlds.
"Like the breath, Yeshua was in Yahweh, continuously moved through Yahweh, had been with Yahweh since Yahweh existed, and was always with Yahweh."
The river gurgled. The wind moved through the leaves of the tree.
"So how was Yahweh born as a human and walked the earth as Yeshua?" asked Story Teller.
"I know!" said Book Read. "Yahweh breathed out and said his name."
"Like we said rooster," said Bear Berry. "And rooster appeared."
"Yes," said Story Teller.
They sat quietly saying Yeshua's name to themselves and helping him appear.
He and a group of children were walking by the river.
The adults, the grown children, were elsewhere doing other things.
"It is inside me," said Large Boy.
"It keeps moving through me," said Sun Dawn.
"Right here," said Bear Berry, blowing through his lips.
"Is your breath always with you?" asked Story Teller.
"Yes," they sang out.
"Unless you are dead," said Book Read.
"Are you dead?" asked Story Teller.
They laughed and giggled. "No!"
"So your breath is in you, moves through you, and is always with you," said Story Teller.
They stopped their walk and sat on the grass beneath the shade of a tree beside the flowing water.
"Use your breath and say a name," said Story Teller.
"Rooster," said Sun Dawn.
"Everyone say rooster," said Story Teller. Five "roosters" sang in the air.
"When you say rooster, can you see rooster? Does rooster appear?" asked Story Teller.
"Yes, and I can hear him too," said Bear Berry.
They all began imitating Rooster with sounds and struts and wing flapping.
After they settled down, Story Teller said, "This is the way that Yahweh became Yeshua."
Their inner ears perked up. They were familiar with Story Teller's transitions, linking worlds.
"Like the breath, Yeshua was in Yahweh, continuously moved through Yahweh, had been with Yahweh since Yahweh existed, and was always with Yahweh."
The river gurgled. The wind moved through the leaves of the tree.
"So how was Yahweh born as a human and walked the earth as Yeshua?" asked Story Teller.
"I know!" said Book Read. "Yahweh breathed out and said his name."
"Like we said rooster," said Bear Berry. "And rooster appeared."
"Yes," said Story Teller.
They sat quietly saying Yeshua's name to themselves and helping him appear.
Saturday, January 10, 2015
the questioner
A voice from the edge of darkness, from the perimeter of the fire's warmth and light, called out, "How does Yahweh transform, Story Teller?"
"How do you?" Story Teller spoke from the fire's inner circle.
"It is a mystery. I do not know."
"So and not so," said Story Teller. "You are the mystery and you know. When you stand aside and look, you do not know."
A night moth flew safely through the fire light.
"In this Story, this linear story," said Story Teller, "Yahweh becomes Yeshua who becomes you. Those are the three characters on the plot board."
"Are you the same you were this morning?" asked Story Teller.
The questioner moved closer to the fire.
"No." A pause. "And yes. I am still me and I am different."
"This is the way Yahweh transforms," said Story Teller. "This is the way all transforms. The changeless continues changing."
"Now go out of your head," he said. "Go out of your mind, your ever divisive mind. Be Yahweh transforming."
"I don't know how," said the questioner.
Story Teller laughed in gentle amusement. "Yes, you do. You mean you won't allow yourself."
Silence.
"Never mind," said Story Teller. "It can happen. As you become engrossed in the story, you may drop your story of separation and division, the one you are telling yourself now. This is a story of Yahweh coming home. And guess where home is."
"Right here," said a small boy at Story Teller's feet.
Story Teller laughed with delight.
"A little child shall lead them," he said.
The questioner clapped her hands and laughed.
"You got it," said Story Teller.
"How do you?" Story Teller spoke from the fire's inner circle.
"It is a mystery. I do not know."
"So and not so," said Story Teller. "You are the mystery and you know. When you stand aside and look, you do not know."
A night moth flew safely through the fire light.
"In this Story, this linear story," said Story Teller, "Yahweh becomes Yeshua who becomes you. Those are the three characters on the plot board."
"Are you the same you were this morning?" asked Story Teller.
The questioner moved closer to the fire.
"No." A pause. "And yes. I am still me and I am different."
"This is the way Yahweh transforms," said Story Teller. "This is the way all transforms. The changeless continues changing."
"Now go out of your head," he said. "Go out of your mind, your ever divisive mind. Be Yahweh transforming."
"I don't know how," said the questioner.
Story Teller laughed in gentle amusement. "Yes, you do. You mean you won't allow yourself."
Silence.
"Never mind," said Story Teller. "It can happen. As you become engrossed in the story, you may drop your story of separation and division, the one you are telling yourself now. This is a story of Yahweh coming home. And guess where home is."
"Right here," said a small boy at Story Teller's feet.
Story Teller laughed with delight.
"A little child shall lead them," he said.
The questioner clapped her hands and laughed.
"You got it," said Story Teller.
Thursday, January 8, 2015
Interlude
The plot is thickening. Yahweh is planning his renunciation of a separate stance. He will embody as a human, thus producing a channel of flow of the theos into the anthropos. Yeshua is the prototype. After Yeshua, the flow will become interflow: theos and anthropos as a common sphere. Synthronous: each will sit on the other's lap (throne) simultaneously. Rather than the other being a (b)other, now the other is both (m)other and (br)other, birthing and walking alongside simultaneously. And yet a third element is needed: the cosmos. Theos, anthropos, and cosmos as one. Hang on! The story is just beginning.
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
The Breath of Death and Life
One of the elders had died that week.
The people sat around the fire, subdued and reflective, except for the children, who played as usual until called down by those older.
"What is death, Story Teller?" asked a young woman.
"Death is breathing out and not breathing back in," said Story Teller.
All grew quiet. The snapping and the crackling of the fire was all that was heard.
"Which is much better than breathing in and not breathing back out," he continued.
The community absorbed this information. Story Teller says strange things at times, some thought. But that is what makes him a Story Teller.
Finally someone spoke. "Holding your breath forever does not sound very pleasant."
"Right," said Story Teller. "It would be living in eternal tension. Death is a breathing out and not breathing back in. Death is a release."
'Thank God,' thought many of the older ones.
"Death points to the importance of the breath," continued Story Teller. "We are continuously breathing in and out with hardly a thought about it. We just putter along on automatic."
"Breathing is inhalation and exhalation. We use these words often but rarely stop to think what they mean."
'Uh oh, here comes the story,' thought those accustomed to Story Teller's style.
"Hale means healthy. When we in-hale we breathe in healthiness."
He paused, waiting for it to click.
Finally one said, "But when we ex-hale we do not breathe out healthiness, do we?"
"Many of us do," said Story Teller. "And my hope is that all of us will."
"Breath is a prayer. Breathing is praying. When we breathe in goodness to ourselves and breathe out goodness to others, this is called in-hale-ation and ex-hale-ation. When our thoughts and images are negative, this is called in-hell-ation and ex-hell-ation."
Folk thought about community members who were always giving themselves and others hell. They had not thought of it as a manner of breathing before.
"The healthy practice is to breathe in lovingkindness to yourself and breathe out lovingkindness to others," said Story Teller. "Do this on purpose until it is your way of being. Give it a try."
As they in-haled and ex-haled, their hearts grew lighter. Grief lessened. Postures straightened. The change was visible.
"When this way of breathing becomes your way of living, it also becomes your way of dying," said Story Teller. "Your last exhalation is a blessing of lovingkindness to all. The body is left behind and your breathing out prayer merges with the Source from which it came."
They sat quietly for a while.
Story Teller said, "Tomorrow night I will tell you how this breath relates to Yahweh's transformation."
Many arose, stretching and yawning and heading for their beds. Others stayed around the fire for a while. Breathing.
The people sat around the fire, subdued and reflective, except for the children, who played as usual until called down by those older.
"What is death, Story Teller?" asked a young woman.
"Death is breathing out and not breathing back in," said Story Teller.
All grew quiet. The snapping and the crackling of the fire was all that was heard.
"Which is much better than breathing in and not breathing back out," he continued.
The community absorbed this information. Story Teller says strange things at times, some thought. But that is what makes him a Story Teller.
Finally someone spoke. "Holding your breath forever does not sound very pleasant."
"Right," said Story Teller. "It would be living in eternal tension. Death is a breathing out and not breathing back in. Death is a release."
'Thank God,' thought many of the older ones.
"Death points to the importance of the breath," continued Story Teller. "We are continuously breathing in and out with hardly a thought about it. We just putter along on automatic."
"Breathing is inhalation and exhalation. We use these words often but rarely stop to think what they mean."
'Uh oh, here comes the story,' thought those accustomed to Story Teller's style.
"Hale means healthy. When we in-hale we breathe in healthiness."
He paused, waiting for it to click.
Finally one said, "But when we ex-hale we do not breathe out healthiness, do we?"
"Many of us do," said Story Teller. "And my hope is that all of us will."
"Breath is a prayer. Breathing is praying. When we breathe in goodness to ourselves and breathe out goodness to others, this is called in-hale-ation and ex-hale-ation. When our thoughts and images are negative, this is called in-hell-ation and ex-hell-ation."
Folk thought about community members who were always giving themselves and others hell. They had not thought of it as a manner of breathing before.
"The healthy practice is to breathe in lovingkindness to yourself and breathe out lovingkindness to others," said Story Teller. "Do this on purpose until it is your way of being. Give it a try."
As they in-haled and ex-haled, their hearts grew lighter. Grief lessened. Postures straightened. The change was visible.
"When this way of breathing becomes your way of living, it also becomes your way of dying," said Story Teller. "Your last exhalation is a blessing of lovingkindness to all. The body is left behind and your breathing out prayer merges with the Source from which it came."
They sat quietly for a while.
Story Teller said, "Tomorrow night I will tell you how this breath relates to Yahweh's transformation."
Many arose, stretching and yawning and heading for their beds. Others stayed around the fire for a while. Breathing.
Monday, January 5, 2015
The Ash Hole
Once upon a time there was a rich man, a wealthy man. He had more than enough of everything. He had a big family. Every daughter, every son had their own mansion with servants and stuff galore. They took turns partying in each other's homes. No one had it better than them.
Unlike his offspring however, the man was a Zen master. He knew that all the stuff meant nothing, that to cling to the stuff was like clinging to turds rather than opening to the life-giving flow of the nutrients of life's food.
He lost everything. His children died. His enemies stole all his stuff. Earthquakes, floods, and fire destroyed his properties. Then his body was afflicted with running sores. He sat in the ashes of his former life.
His friends (who still had stuff) came to give him advice. You know. The usual. Like "Buck up" or "Join my church" or "Here is the number of my therapist" or "Let's go get drunk and raise hell" or "Curse God and die." No doubt you yourself have a few pieces of advice for him, said Story Teller.
Job, the guy's name, listened patiently to each of his friend's long-winded advice. He knew they meant well, but none of it touched him. Each of them left and went back to their well-ordered lives, their entertainment centers and social obligations, leaving him alone sitting in the ruins of nothingness.
He finally raised his arms to the heavens and exclaimed: "What The Fuck?" It was his darkest hour. Yet with the exclamation, the beginning of new life stirring.
A voice came from Heaven: "Who the hell are you to be asking What the fuck? You don't know jack shit. I not only know jack shit. I created him."
Job was taken aback. He then began laughing. "You are right," he said. "I have been clinging to the turd and ignoring the nutrients. The turd passes on back into the ground while the nutrients are ever-flowing."
"I think you know jack shit after all," said the voice from Heaven.
Job, still laughing, got up out of his ash heap and went on his way.
It is said that eventually he had more stuff than ever before but he clung to none of it, laughing and content with embodying the nutrients of Life.
Unlike his offspring however, the man was a Zen master. He knew that all the stuff meant nothing, that to cling to the stuff was like clinging to turds rather than opening to the life-giving flow of the nutrients of life's food.
He lost everything. His children died. His enemies stole all his stuff. Earthquakes, floods, and fire destroyed his properties. Then his body was afflicted with running sores. He sat in the ashes of his former life.
His friends (who still had stuff) came to give him advice. You know. The usual. Like "Buck up" or "Join my church" or "Here is the number of my therapist" or "Let's go get drunk and raise hell" or "Curse God and die." No doubt you yourself have a few pieces of advice for him, said Story Teller.
Job, the guy's name, listened patiently to each of his friend's long-winded advice. He knew they meant well, but none of it touched him. Each of them left and went back to their well-ordered lives, their entertainment centers and social obligations, leaving him alone sitting in the ruins of nothingness.
He finally raised his arms to the heavens and exclaimed: "What The Fuck?" It was his darkest hour. Yet with the exclamation, the beginning of new life stirring.
A voice came from Heaven: "Who the hell are you to be asking What the fuck? You don't know jack shit. I not only know jack shit. I created him."
Job was taken aback. He then began laughing. "You are right," he said. "I have been clinging to the turd and ignoring the nutrients. The turd passes on back into the ground while the nutrients are ever-flowing."
"I think you know jack shit after all," said the voice from Heaven.
Job, still laughing, got up out of his ash heap and went on his way.
It is said that eventually he had more stuff than ever before but he clung to none of it, laughing and content with embodying the nutrients of Life.
Sunday, January 4, 2015
Story Is All That Matters
"I am intrigued with the understanding that story is all that matters," said Story Teller.
He sat talking with a close friend who had helped that point focus more clearly in Story Teller's mind.
"Your statement is a double entendre, maybe more," said his friend.
"Layers of meaning and reverberations," said Story Teller.
"Exactly," said his friend. "Or perhaps I should say 'inexactly.'"
The two burst into laughter. As they often did when conversing.
"It is disconcerting, yet intriguing, that all matter is the embodying of story," said Story Teller.
"Including the story that all matter is the embodying of story," said his friend, "which is currently mattering."
"It certainly matters to us," said Story Teller.
They laughed.
His friend said, "There is the MetaStory, that story is all that matters, and the multitudes of 'individual' stories that are mattering, are physically embodying."
"In the beginning was the Word," said Story Teller, quoting the book of John.
"Yes," said his friend. "And this is the darkness of mystery beyond which we cannot see. We cannot see that which is seeing. Yet we know it intimately. We ARE it."
"This is why I love you and our relationship so much," said Story Teller. "We see each other, see aspects of ourselves that alone we cannot see clearly. We help bring each other into focus."
Their hearts smiled and they sat quietly within the mutual warmth.
"Our friendship is an example of two stories mattering that are not closed books," said his friend.
"Interflow," said Story Teller. "That word that keeps arising as a description of all that is."
"Part of the story you are," said his friend. "You are a story of interflow embodying."
"We are," said Story Teller.
"There you go again," said his friend.
"And interflow is the story I am telling in the Story of God: how Yahweh came of age, realized his shortcomings, his blockages, his stumblings and eventually personified as Yeshua, an embodying of love and forgiveness."
"It is a story that you cannot help but tell," said his friend. "You are that story. You are that story mattering."
"And you, my friend," said Story Teller, "you are another story."
"We'll talk about that another time," his friend said.
They sat quietly enjoying the ever-unfolding moment.
He sat talking with a close friend who had helped that point focus more clearly in Story Teller's mind.
"Your statement is a double entendre, maybe more," said his friend.
"Layers of meaning and reverberations," said Story Teller.
"Exactly," said his friend. "Or perhaps I should say 'inexactly.'"
The two burst into laughter. As they often did when conversing.
"It is disconcerting, yet intriguing, that all matter is the embodying of story," said Story Teller.
"Including the story that all matter is the embodying of story," said his friend, "which is currently mattering."
"It certainly matters to us," said Story Teller.
They laughed.
His friend said, "There is the MetaStory, that story is all that matters, and the multitudes of 'individual' stories that are mattering, are physically embodying."
"In the beginning was the Word," said Story Teller, quoting the book of John.
"Yes," said his friend. "And this is the darkness of mystery beyond which we cannot see. We cannot see that which is seeing. Yet we know it intimately. We ARE it."
"This is why I love you and our relationship so much," said Story Teller. "We see each other, see aspects of ourselves that alone we cannot see clearly. We help bring each other into focus."
Their hearts smiled and they sat quietly within the mutual warmth.
"Our friendship is an example of two stories mattering that are not closed books," said his friend.
"Interflow," said Story Teller. "That word that keeps arising as a description of all that is."
"Part of the story you are," said his friend. "You are a story of interflow embodying."
"We are," said Story Teller.
"There you go again," said his friend.
"And interflow is the story I am telling in the Story of God: how Yahweh came of age, realized his shortcomings, his blockages, his stumblings and eventually personified as Yeshua, an embodying of love and forgiveness."
"It is a story that you cannot help but tell," said his friend. "You are that story. You are that story mattering."
"And you, my friend," said Story Teller, "you are another story."
"We'll talk about that another time," his friend said.
They sat quietly enjoying the ever-unfolding moment.
Saturday, January 3, 2015
Blood Sacrifice
"Why did Yahweh require a blood sacrifice?" asked Robert, a young man skilled in herbal medicines.
"One understanding is that the people at that time, our ancestors, wanted to give Yahweh something that was a sacrifice to them, a meaningful gift, and their animals were more treasured than were beans, potatoes, and bread," said Story Teller.
"So Yahweh didn't require it, but the people set it up that way," said Robert.
"That is my understanding of the story," said Story Teller. "The conventional or orthodox understanding is that Yahweh insisted that animals be killed and offered to him, that blood sacrifices must be made."
"Yahweh sounds pretty bloodthirsty," said Robert.
"Yes," said Story Teller. "He requires that blood be spilled, that celery won't do. He wants something that is made in his image to die as a gift to him."
"This sounds offensive to me," said Robert.
"If you think about it, it is," said Story Teller. "For centuries, people were told not to think about it. It is Yahweh's will and that's that. All of conventional Christianity is based on this understanding of the story."
"I see," said Robert. "Yahweh eventually required the ultimate sacrifice, himself embodying as a human. And he sacrificed himself to himself."
"Yes," said Story Teller. "And more than that. He required a sacrifice for our sins. A goat or lamb or bull was not enough. So he gave himself as a sacrifice to meet his requirements."
"What are sins?" asked Robert.
"We will get into that," said Story Teller. "For now let us focus on a different understanding of the story. The conventional understanding is that Yahweh embodied as a human and died as a blood sacrifice for our sins. "
"What is the unconventional understanding?" asked Robert.
"That Yahweh was full of sorrow for his past angry, jealous, bloodthirsty behavior and did the only thing he could do to ask our forgiveness," said Story Teller.
"He came to Earth as a human and died the most cruel death possible, offered himself to us as a sacrifice for his behavior, not ours," said Robert.
"Yes, in doing so he asks us to forgive his earlier behavior. He embodied as a Person of great love and was killed. He did not know what else to do to be forgiven."
"You are going to get into trouble with some of my relatives for this," said Robert.
"Every story is open to many interpretations," said Story Teller. "Mine is that God and I, the Source and us, are an interflow and we die and resurrect together."
"One understanding is that the people at that time, our ancestors, wanted to give Yahweh something that was a sacrifice to them, a meaningful gift, and their animals were more treasured than were beans, potatoes, and bread," said Story Teller.
"So Yahweh didn't require it, but the people set it up that way," said Robert.
"That is my understanding of the story," said Story Teller. "The conventional or orthodox understanding is that Yahweh insisted that animals be killed and offered to him, that blood sacrifices must be made."
"Yahweh sounds pretty bloodthirsty," said Robert.
"Yes," said Story Teller. "He requires that blood be spilled, that celery won't do. He wants something that is made in his image to die as a gift to him."
"This sounds offensive to me," said Robert.
"If you think about it, it is," said Story Teller. "For centuries, people were told not to think about it. It is Yahweh's will and that's that. All of conventional Christianity is based on this understanding of the story."
"I see," said Robert. "Yahweh eventually required the ultimate sacrifice, himself embodying as a human. And he sacrificed himself to himself."
"Yes," said Story Teller. "And more than that. He required a sacrifice for our sins. A goat or lamb or bull was not enough. So he gave himself as a sacrifice to meet his requirements."
"What are sins?" asked Robert.
"We will get into that," said Story Teller. "For now let us focus on a different understanding of the story. The conventional understanding is that Yahweh embodied as a human and died as a blood sacrifice for our sins. "
"What is the unconventional understanding?" asked Robert.
"That Yahweh was full of sorrow for his past angry, jealous, bloodthirsty behavior and did the only thing he could do to ask our forgiveness," said Story Teller.
"He came to Earth as a human and died the most cruel death possible, offered himself to us as a sacrifice for his behavior, not ours," said Robert.
"Yes, in doing so he asks us to forgive his earlier behavior. He embodied as a Person of great love and was killed. He did not know what else to do to be forgiven."
"You are going to get into trouble with some of my relatives for this," said Robert.
"Every story is open to many interpretations," said Story Teller. "Mine is that God and I, the Source and us, are an interflow and we die and resurrect together."
Thursday, January 1, 2015
BoBo and TuTu
BoBo: What is he doing?
TuTu: He seems to be trying to sketch the character of God, the God depicted in the Christian Bible.
BoBo: What on earth for?
TuTu: He believes the teachings of his childhood about God, Jesus, Salvation, and Sin were wrong or incomplete.
BoBo: So he is looking to correct the error.
TuTu: Yes.
BoBo: What is his premise?
TuTu: Well, he has a few. One is that God is and has been evolving, is in transition. He hopes to show that through the stories about God in the Bible.
BoBo: So that's why he has a Story Teller character.
TuTu: Yes. He is also operating off the premise that everything is story.
Bobo: Everything? How is he going to pull that off?
TuTu: We will see. His second premise is that not just humans have sinned (gone off the mark) but also God who became in need of salvation. And forgiveness.
BoBo: That won't make him very popular with the orthodox. What else does he have going on in this "Story of God" he is writing?
TuTu: He points out that the subject - object world that most humans live in is outmoded, that it is a relational world, an interflow. Thus, we and God are an interflow, that we are continuously birthing each other.
BoBo: Hmmm… That we do not live in a hierarchy, but as a living, breathing holoarchy.
TuTu: You got it.
BoBo: He is going to put all this into one book?
TuTu: That is what is emerging. He has the vision. Now he has to put it into English. But he is used to that. He has written books of similar controversial nature before, you know.
BoBo: But none like this.
TuTu: No. None like this.
TuTu: Wait! Before you go, he also wishes to focus on how we as a planetary civilization have moved from the postmodern to the cosmodern.
BoBo: (Sighs) This is going to be one hell of a book.
TuTu: It encompasses and goes beyond both heaven and hell.
TuTu: He seems to be trying to sketch the character of God, the God depicted in the Christian Bible.
BoBo: What on earth for?
TuTu: He believes the teachings of his childhood about God, Jesus, Salvation, and Sin were wrong or incomplete.
BoBo: So he is looking to correct the error.
TuTu: Yes.
BoBo: What is his premise?
TuTu: Well, he has a few. One is that God is and has been evolving, is in transition. He hopes to show that through the stories about God in the Bible.
BoBo: So that's why he has a Story Teller character.
TuTu: Yes. He is also operating off the premise that everything is story.
Bobo: Everything? How is he going to pull that off?
TuTu: We will see. His second premise is that not just humans have sinned (gone off the mark) but also God who became in need of salvation. And forgiveness.
BoBo: That won't make him very popular with the orthodox. What else does he have going on in this "Story of God" he is writing?
TuTu: He points out that the subject - object world that most humans live in is outmoded, that it is a relational world, an interflow. Thus, we and God are an interflow, that we are continuously birthing each other.
BoBo: Hmmm… That we do not live in a hierarchy, but as a living, breathing holoarchy.
TuTu: You got it.
BoBo: He is going to put all this into one book?
TuTu: That is what is emerging. He has the vision. Now he has to put it into English. But he is used to that. He has written books of similar controversial nature before, you know.
BoBo: But none like this.
TuTu: No. None like this.
TuTu: Wait! Before you go, he also wishes to focus on how we as a planetary civilization have moved from the postmodern to the cosmodern.
BoBo: (Sighs) This is going to be one hell of a book.
TuTu: It encompasses and goes beyond both heaven and hell.
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