The Veil of the Temple

Story Teller arrived in the town in the cool of the early evening and took a seat in the public square near the splashing fountain. People recognized him and began gathering around. Like all towns of that time, they had no electronic devices for saturating themselves with continuously manufactured sight and sound.

After all were comfortably settled in, Story Teller began.

"Tonight I tell you the story of another Story Teller. Many people liked him and liked his stories, though they did not always understand them. His stories were always simple ones about the visible world but had deeper meanings, pointing to the realities of the visionary world, the world not seen with physical eyes, the spiritual world."

"I do not understand," said a listener. "What eyes do we have besides these in our head?"

"Imagine a rose," said Story Teller. "Can you see it?"

"Yes. It is red, has a long stem with green leaves and with thorns."

"That eye." said Story Teller. "The eye of the imagination. It is no less real than the physical eyes. We use it, see with it all the time but tend to take it for granted and give it little attention. We see a world we call visible and a world we call invisible, yet they are both visible."

Story Teller waited to see if he was understood. The listener smiled with visible relaxation.

"The Story Teller's name was Yeshua. He told the story of our Source which he called our Father. In doing so, he got into trouble with some of the religious folk, with the philosopher story tellers, and eventually with the government.

"How did he get into trouble, Story Teller?" asked a boy.

"He told stories that did not match the stories of the other story tellers. Plus people began liking his stories better. The other story tellers were outraged. Their story teller status was threatened. They had been telling their stories for a long time and were regarded as the ones in the know, the ones who knew what life was all about. Now here was this upstart who said their stories were okay as far as they went, but now that he was here, a new story had begun. They were obsolete."

"More than that, Yeshua had a wisdom the other story tellers did not have. They were constantly exposing themselves to ridicule by trying to trap Yeshua in public debate but were reduced to sputtering withdrawal by his remarks."

"Here is the part of the story of Yeshua I wish to tell you tonight. Eventually the jealous indignant story tellers partnered with the government to have Yeshua killed. In the town where this took place there was a temple dedicated to God. The inner temple where the Spirit of God dwelled was separated from the outer temple by a curtain or veil. There was a clear understanding that the Spirit of God was in one place and the spirits of humans in another. Two worlds.

"At the very time of Yeshua's death, this curtain ripped from top to bottom. The inner temple and the outer temple became one temple. No longer was God over there and humans over here. They now lived in the same place. One world of continuous interflow.

"Let me bring this story closer to home," said Story Teller.

"Do you ever take time to sit quietly and think about things?"

Many heads nodded.

"That is called contemplation. It is called that for a reason. In the middle of the word contemplation is the root of the word templum. A templum is a clear open space where diviners or seers would go with a question they wished answered or where they would go and just sit quietly allowing whatever to arise.

"Now become aware of your head," said Story Teller. "Place your hands over your temples."

All did so, some smiling as they began to understand the point of Story Teller's story.

"When you allow a clear open space between your temples, you too can divine, can see."

"Each of us is a temple of our Source. No longer is there a barrier between us and The-One-Who-Breathes-Us. We have direct and open communion if we but allow it."

"Do you understand?"

Many said yes, with pleasant smiles beaming through their faces.

"For those of you who do not, you may wish to take this story with you to your templum, to your clear open space, and let it speak to you."

They arose, talking quietly in small groups, heading for home.

dear unborn kin

Dear Unborn Kin,
I know the consciousness change needed amongst us two-leggeds to deliver a viable Earth to you. 1. Live in and as the eternal now, facing and dealing with what is right before us this moment. For example, I am dealing with writing a letter to you. 2. Open to the reality of the Interflow of all that is, to the awareness that everything, EVERYTHING, is interconnected and interconnecting. This means that all that exists is family. Yes, even those of dismal narrow awareness who look to feather their own nests. (What to do about them I'm not sure. I have considered lobotomy but that is inconsistent with #3.) 3. Love. Love is the gracious energy extending through us and from us to all our kin, from the subatomic to the metagalactic. To all our relations. Like I say, I know the consciousness change needed. I don't know how to deliver it other than for me and for each of us to open continuously with the above three-steps. Momentum. Pure momentum.
You will know whether or not we succeeded.
Great Blessings to you,
Your Loving Ancestor

Condensation

No need to shout through your megaphone, "THE UNIVERSE IS NOT ENCHANTED!" We know that. The enchantment has been withdrawing for a couple of thousand years now. Withdrawing into the core of your heart. Condensing. A natural process like the heartbeat, the breath. Condensing, expanding. Like the closing fist and opening hand. Let it condense even further. No, don't make it. Let it. Soon it will expand again. From all our hearts. Something new is being born.

my experience

My experience (not my belief, my experience) is that I come from “out there,” from the infinite Cosmos. I was born in human form, this form. I opened into the world of Earth matter and, in doing so, the realm of human society. Determining to burst beyond the realm of societal form, I quickly learned that anti-conformity is shaped by conformity. My goal was independence, not anti-conformity. I did not wish to merely re-bell (thus striking the same old notes) but to re-volt (to open to a new voltage).

I sank deep into matter, into darkness. I let go. I let go of everything society holds dear (a promising career, a stable marriage, salvation through conformity to church doctrine, the search for security through money and property, the quest to look good in other people’s eyes, etc.) and opened to the immediacy of now. I fell into the Ground of existence and died. 

Over time, I opened more and more to the Light. A new “plant” began to grow from the seed that fell into the Ground and died. I learned the ways of science, of experimental testing of formed hypotheses, of examination of the data, and discussion of its meaning. I read widely and digested the core writings of the cultures of East and West, of the so-called “primitive” and the so-called “civilized.” I pushed the understandings of the energetic realms of the martial arts as far and deep as I was capable. I sat with hundreds of people as they recounted their spiritual, emotional, and relationship problems and searched with them for resolution.

I have lived in and as this ever-changing material form for 77 years now. I know I am an immortal soul formed and forming by the Light. I know how to exercise the soul I am in this light-dark arena of human life. I continue to fall into the dark and bounce out. I continue to open to the light and radiate. I will continue exercising in this gym until I leave this physical body. The Light has brought me here and the Light will see me home.

creation story

Creation Story. This world is born of FRICTION, is brought into being by FRICTION. When the match (GODHEAD, SOURCE) was struck, ANGUISH / WRATH occurred, FIRE burst forth, then LIGHT. The SOUND of struck ANGUISH went forth immediately before and along with the FIRE and LIGHT of CREATION and continues even now. The SOURCE keeps SOURCING and we are its ANGUISH, FIRE, and LIGHT.

the HEP story

Dear Unborn Kin,

The dominant myth today is the HEP myth: Humanistic Evolutionary Progress. The story goes that it's all about us Humans who are Evolving in the name of Progress. Everything else is to be sacrificed to our HEPness. 

The prime symbol of this myth is the $. Never mind that we made it up, we all bow to it. Rather than opening to a different story of WIGO (What Is Going On), many activists amongst us simply want a redistribution of the $ and are thus prime agents of HEPness. All other myths, all other WIGO stories are discounted except by a few, myself among them. The HEP myth fosters a schizoid splitness, war, and blind destruction. 

The myth I embody? We are the Cosmos continuously forming, waves of a mighty ocean, with no separation. Such capaciousness allows a Wisdom to flow through, co-creating every moment, a moment-um of a vast Interflowing whose conduits we are. When we follow this, Life moves with us.

Our insistence on being Humanoids puts us on the ass end of every endeavor. May we awaken. May our thick heads continue to be knocked until the Humanoid crust around our consciousness crumbles.

Blessings to you.

Your Loving Ancestor

blood draw

As she drew my blood I said
I bet you hear a lot about now I can
stop fasting and drink some coffee.
She smiled and said yes.
The first blood vial filled.
She needed four.
I don't drink coffee she said.
I tried and didn't like it.
The second vial vampired me.
She said when my uncle comes to visit
I make him coffee. My mother says
who made this coffee? It's too strong.
I have to confess I did she says.
The third vial slurps away.
But my uncle likes it strong.
My grandmother complains too.
My grandfather says nothing. He
likes coffee no matter what.
The fourth vial is full.
Okay she says. Go have your coffee.
We laugh. I say I always like talking with you.

what happens when we die?

"What happens when we die, Story Teller?"

The question was asked by a precocious young girl who evidently thought about such things. The other members of the community either dismissed the thought of death and an afterlife from their minds or had already decided either that the question was unanswerable or had provided an answer for themselves that was at least partially satisfactory.

They had gathered at the community fire that evening with no thought of death at all. The moon was full, their bellies were full, and life seemed eternal.

"At first, we may not know that we are dead," said Story Teller. "Many, perhaps most, do not."

"Do you mean we are the same as we are now?" she asked.

"Yes. We have the same consciousness after death as we do when we die," he said.

"What happens then?"

"We stay within the light of our awareness until we are told that greater light is available. Some of us do not want greater light. We are comfortable with the relative darkness we have already chosen."

"If we want more light, we continue opening to it along with others in the community of beings to which we are naturally drawn."

"I do not understand," she said. "What is the light and darkness?"

The other members of the community that Story Teller was visiting that evening were silently listening. Story Teller had not experienced such deep silence among story listeners before. Folk were usually moving, adjusting their clothing, coughing, sighing, looking off into the distance from time to time, their attention elsewhere. They sat enrapt.

"Darkness comes from love of self and of the human-created world. Light comes with love of others and of our Source."

"But aren't we supposed to love our selves and the world?" she asked.

"Yes." said Story Teller. "But if our love is fixed there and no where else, we live in darkness. We are like a lamp seeing nothing but its own light and not what the light reveals. Nor are we open to the Greater Light from which our light comes."

"After our bodies die, is hell then our staying in our own light, our own love of self?" she asked.

"Young woman, you are very bright," said Story Teller. "I see you already live in heavenly places. The light of your awareness is open to others and to the One who co-creates you."

She sat quietly.

"When you drop your body, you will continue growing in light, in intelligence and in wisdom."

"What happens to those who choose to stay within their own light of self-focus?" she asked.

"They will continue to be invited to expand their capacity for Love," he said. "Eternity is a long time. As long as they refuse, they will remain caught in their own misery, which self-love always turns out to be."

"But let's go to now," said Story Teller, awakening people out of their afterlife trance. "Might as well live as if we had already died. And that means to live, to truly live!. Stand up, everyone!"

"Now hold your arms out to each other, to the moon, to the earth, to all who have gone before, to all who are yet to come! Expand your capacity to love!"

A drum began beating. A guitar began playing. Gentle laughter arose. Some began singing. All began visiting with each other, appreciating each other, their vulnerability, their interflow of love and of community.

The young girl smiled.

seeds

It was spring. Every household in the small town had a garden. Each planted their favorites: corn, squash, beans, tomatoes, okra, melon.

The day had been a hot one. Now it was cooling into evening, that special time of twilight when the birds began returning to their perches and nests and the bats began swooping after insects.

Folk had eaten their evening meal and were gathering in the plaza to hear Story Teller. He sat on a bench at the plaza's edge, facing the gurgling fountain at its center. Families brought chairs and mats and arranged themselves in comfortable positions to hear the night's story.

Story Teller stood.

"I want to talk tonight about seeds," he said.

"You may remember that the primary mission of  John the Baptist was to announce the arrival of Yeshua. John was an excellent story teller. People entranced themselves with his words. One of the things he said was, referring to Yeshua, 'He must increase while I must decrease.'

"These are the exact words of a seed. For a seed to bear fruit, it must follow the two 'musts.' The must of decrease and the must of increase.

"If the seed does not decrease, it will not increase.

"Yeshua spoke to the same point later. He said the seed, a kernel of wheat, had to fall into the ground and die. Otherwise it was worthless. No crop. No yield."

The people listening to Story Teller understood this well. Where was he going with this?

Story Teller said, "You are, we are, the seeds. We are planted here, in the Ground of Existence. Each of us is a singularity folded in on itself. As long as we stay self-absorbed, we will die, producing no fruit, just a rotted seed, worthless.

"Within us as seeds, however is a strong urge, an urge to open, to grow, to become firmly grounded while opening to all around us. We are nurtured by both the heavenly light of knowledge and understanding and by the manure and compost of earthly life.

"No two seeds are alike. Each produces a uniqueness when it blossoms and unfolds.

"Each os us seeds must listen to and honor our specific genetics. A wisdom exists within the seed that tells it how to grow, what it needs to grow. Some seeds need to send down deeper roots for nourishment and water. Others seem to do well on morning dew and sunlight.

"Every seed has its way of growing. What is important is that it not cling to itself but allow increase.

Story Teller stood silently for a few moments.

Then he said, "Everyone please stand up."

They moaned. They groaned. They stood.

"Open both of your hands. Now bring them down in front of you as if you are pressing something to the earth. Good! Now bring them up in front of you and stand with arms open to the sky. Excellent!

"You got it! Now repeat after me an old saying: 'Rooting and grounding in love.' Here we go!"

They began chanting in unison: Rooting and grounding in love.

"Okay!" exclaimed Story Teller. Giggling and laughter calmed into an expectant silence.

"Now," said Story Teller. "Put the two together. As you say 'rooting and grounding,' bring your arms down to earth. As you say 'in love,' open your arms to the sky."

"ROOTING AND GROUNDING! IN LOVE!' they chanted and moved. Over and over again.

People began dancing with the arm movements while laughing and chanting.

"You have all gone to seed!" shouted Story Teller.

They laughed and danced and moved and hugged and let go into the night.

the dark pearl

A village elder, known for his calculated shrewdness, made sure he found Story Teller alone one day.

Story Teller was perched on a large rock overlooking the running water of a nearby stream.

The elder said hello and sat beside him. They sat in silence for a while, no sounds except the gurgling of the flowing water and the light breeze in their ears.

The elder said, "I need you to come clean."

Story Teller smiled. "Okay."

"You don't know what about, what I want you to come clean about. How can you say okay?"

"I don't need to question you. I figure you will tell me." said Story Teller.

"Hmmph!" said the elder.

More silence.

"Let's get to the bottom of this." said the elder. "You tell us these amusing stories which I do not always completely understand."

Story Teller knew that was quite an admission for this man who regarded himself as highly knowledgeable and insisted that others see him that way too.

He sat quietly, allowing room for the elder's story to unfold.

"What is the meaning of it all? On what can we rely?" asked the elder. "What is the bottom line?"

The man's questions hung in the air for a while.

Story Teller said, "I will tell you a story."

The man groaned. "No straight answer? I want it in black and white."

Story Teller said, "I will give you the answer. You will have to be the one to make it black and white."

He continued. "Long ago there was an Emperor, loved by the people for his wisdom, his justice, and his kindness. He decided to take a trek. He went far out, climbed the highest mountain overlooking the ocean, sat quietly for a while, then returned home."

"When he got home, he found that he had lost the secret to all treasure. His Dark Pearl. He felt lost without it. He sent Knowledge out to look for it. Knowledge looked everywhere, retracing the Emperor's steps in fine detail. He kept good records. You can still read the efforts of his search in the Knowledge journals. He could not find the Pearl."

Story Teller paused. "And?" said the elder, impatient for knowledge.

"The Emperor tried a different approach. He sent Sharp Eyes out to look for the Pearl. Sharp Eyes could see everything visible. Sharp Eyes looked everywhere but Sharp Eyes could not find it.

"The Emperor was desperate. He did not expect much to come of it, but he sent Wrangling Debate out to look for the Dark Pearl. Wrangling Debate questioned everything and everyone that had anything to do with the Dark Pearl. He received wild acclaim for his ability to talk anyone into a corner. But he could not find the Pearl."

"Aha!" said the Emperor. "I know who I will send to find the Dark Pearl. So he did. And the Dark Pearl was found. He sent Formlessness, the Unbound."

Silence.

The elder was caught in thought. He started to argue with Story Teller then remembered that Wrangling Debate was useless. He sat confused.

Story Teller picked up a pebble and tossed it, bonking the elder in the head.

The elder burst out laughing.

He and Story Teller whooped until tears ran down their cheeks.

Yeshua and the adversary

"Do you know what an adversary is?" asked Story Teller.

The small community grew quiet.

"An adversary is one who wants your downfall," he said.

"An adversary will do whatever is possible to see if you can be crippled or destroyed.

"Tonight I wish to tell you the story of Yeshua and the adversary.

"As you recall, Yahweh decided to become human and go through all the stuff we go through. All of it. He went through the birth canal, became a baby, a child, a teenager, and was now a young man ready to achieve his mission.

"After being baptized by John, Yeshua decided to go on a retreat. Retreat is a funny name for it, because a true retreat is also an advance. You retreat from the hardened form you have become and advance into new and deeper realms.

"Yeshua needed to get away from everybody and all their expectations. His Mama wanted this; his brothers and sisters wanted that. His neighbors were already staring at him funny.

"All of you know how it goes. It begins to seem like everyone wants a piece of your action. That is why we have vacations. To vacate means to empty, to let it all go for a while. We also call it a holiday, a day or days when we can become whole, holy.

"I can see by the look on some of your faces that you most definitely need a holiday now."

Several folk began laughing.

"That's it," said Story Teller. "Laughter is a small vacation. So is listening to a story. We leave behind what has become so ordinary, so constricting.

"As anyone who has gone on vacation or on a retreat knows, it takes a while to let go. One still has some things to work through, to let go of, before being truly vacated or wholly into this moment, this momentum, now.

"Well, Yeshua has a little help with that. No sooner is he out away from it all than his adversary wants to knock him off his path.

"Hi Yeshua," he says. "You've been out here for quite some time now. I know you must be hungry. Think of hot steaming bread dripping with butter and honey. Since you are really Yahweh, you could turn these stones into that. No one would ever know. Nobody here but you and me."

Story Teller said, "We all recognize that one. Put your physical body first.Then you can do all that other stuff. But Yeshua has a lot at stake here. His mission is to lead a fully human life. If he transforms stones into bread to satisfy his human needs, he has abandoned his mission.

"So he says, 'Nope.'

"The adversary switches gears. He decides to try to throw Yeshua off course by appealing to his personal power. 'Throw yourself off this high place here. It would kill anyone else, but you know you would be alright. Come on. Prove yourself.'

"Yeshua laughs. 'I don't have to prove myself. I am my proof.'

"The adversary says 'hmmmm, this dude is tough.' But he has one more thing to try. It has worked with most everyone else. Empire! Build your personal empire!

"He says to Yeshua, 'Abandon your vision of the cosmos and accept my vision which is realistic and true and based upon hard core experimental data. If you do so, I will make you Emperor of the World.'

"Yeshua laughs out loud at that one. 'You have to be kidding,' he says. 'I'm not going to worship you. How about if you worship me?'

"The adversary didn't particularly care for Yeshua's attitude. So he turned his back on him and left.

"It was then that the angels came and the retreat shifted into an advance."

They all sat quietly for a while absorbing the story.

here it is

"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.

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. 

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."

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.

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 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."

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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."

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.