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British Columbia coast, Apache scout and virgin cedar forest gypsy

excerpted from IN AND OF: memoirs of a mystic journey, by Jack Haas

               

                And so it came to be a regular pattern of my existence that I would live for a while within the structure, lights, noise, distractions, and trapped souls of civilization, and would fill my pockets with cash enough for my next journey, and then, upon reaching my breaking point, I would realize that to stay there any longer would lead only to despair or the madhouse, and so I would break free again from the troubles, ideas, creations, and pathos of the world, and would wander up the coast somewhere, to sit in the forest or by the sea, and to lick my wounds and weep the whole damned jumble away.

The problem was not that I was inhuman and did not belong, but that I was too human. Too much pain, too much wonder, too much love, loss and sorrow. Too bloody much. In the center of it all I came to be ripped in two by the intimacy and separation I could not explain to others but with a stoic laugh and an accepting sigh.

This period of wandering and isolation did not come about because I had stopped caring for my friends and family. On the contrary, I cared very much, and yet there was a gnawing ache inside of me from which I could not get away, something which spoke in a voice I could barely hear, but which said something like, “If you really cared about them, or about yourself for that matter, you would forget life as it has been presented to you, and get to the bottom of the whole gory mess of it.”

Ah yes, what a mess indeed. I couldn’t continue to exist without finding out why life on this marvelous earth had become so disagreeable, because I can tell you I didn’t have a single answer, and I could sense that no one else around me did either, regardless of how confidently they walked through their illusionary lives.

                So I left my home and familiars like an Apache scout who sees the coming winter and the barren fields, sees the impending starvation and suffering, and wanders off to other lands in an attempt to find another place where food and shelter are plenty so as to later return for his tribe, that they might survive the long and merciless season.

                And for that I became a lost and hungry man, wandering about in an empty wildland and not even knowing how to get home.

Yet it was there that I received the insights and inspirations which become possible only from taking a step away from the corporeal panoply and societal encumbrances which consume and debilitate body, mind and soul in the most subtle ways, such that one might not even feel themselves being overwhelmed until all clarity and repose are gone and no memory left of their absence. And that is an irreconcilable absence, which is why it was only at a removed distance that I could begin to understand the true nature of existence and my consecrated part within it.

                And so the grand and virgin cedar forests and wild coast of British Columbia, dotted with softly tinted islands running out forever in the mist of the setting sun, would bring me to a voiceless, lonely rapture and open me up like a vacuum, sucking all of mankind’s dross and memory from my core, for it was on this part of the great orb, amongst the magnificent forests, the crashing surf, and the unknowable wildness of it all, that I had become intoxicated with the earth.

I have never known such uncluttered beauty as exists out there on the coast. It must be how the soft light mingles up from the ocean and onto each successive island, until the sky is reached, and the panorama sits like a shifting water color of gentle hues composed of no color the mind can capture, for it is not a color, it is a feel.

 

excerpted from:

author Jack Haas, west coast British Columbia wilderness, ocean forest island

 

 

IN AND OF: memoirs of a mystic journey

by Jack Haas

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

      

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Mystical books, visionary art, and fine art photography by Jack Haas

 

 

 

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