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Guitar playing, Marbled Murrelets, gooseneck barnacles, spiritual archetypes, and cosmic patterns

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




               In fact, a year later Mick decided to join me out on Flores Island, after I had been out there alone for a few days, relinquishing my contact with the empire, and disgorging my soul as per usual. He came out and brought with him his guitar and sang sweet melodies to me for three days straight while I sat back in the sun, watching the sundog covenants emerge overhead, and soaking up his tunes in the rapture of the wilds. Nights wed spend chomping down mouthfuls of limpets in garlic, gooseneck barnacles and fried onions, and an assortment of other epicurean delights, all washed down with litres of red wine and followed by the bliss of brotherhood and song.

                It was a splendid treat to have a comrade finally out on the coast with me, walking my favorite beaches, exploring the hidden alcoves and intertidal islands which had, over the years, grown to be my friends as well, and so it felt as if I was introducing them to Mick and enjoying the meeting of these two.

                It was a heartwarming few days- the kind which almost brought me to tears at its closure- so much so that a couple of years later Mick and I planned a sequel to that trip, but unfortunately when the time came around he was unable to attend.

                So what? So Id be out there alone again, nothing new in that, I thought. I decided to go anyway and had only a short, two-week, biological contract to fulfill before leaving. I was to serve as a pack-mule and secretary for a few guys climbing old-growth trees on the coast, looking for the working nests of endangered Marbled Murrelets, so that the environmental community could use these finds as a reason to lobby the forestry industry for the preservation of those enormous and diminishing trees. We didnt find any nests, but it was a fruitful stint of employment anyway, meeting some genuinely good lads, and providing me not only with essential funds but also with the ontological data necessary to confirm another secret pattern in the universe which I was slowly awakening to, and that is, simply: a void must be filled.

                What happened is that on this contract prior to my Flores trip, a young fellow from Australia was working as another of the slaves along with me; a young man who looked uncannily like Mick and played guitar brilliantly as well.

                Well what do you know but after our work was finished I gave this Australian bloke directions out to the secret beach I usually camped upon- though he said he doubted if hed make it there- and after I had been camped out there for a few days he did show up and suddenly I was on the beach Mick and I had planned to have our reunion on, listening to his look-a-like play guitar and eating limpets, and gooseneck barnacles, and drinking wine and wondering how much of this came about because a thought planted in the ether must come to fruition.

                To be sure, the recognition that we are integral elements to the creation of the cosmos was becoming clearer to me. This was simply one more piece of evidence in the case I was building in my mind- the case which suggests that the drama requires certain characters at certain times for the fulfillment of its mysterious agenda, and if one character happens to leave the stage, a similar one is pulled into the vacuum.

                I have seen this occurrence now time and time again. It is as if God is creating the same stew in many different parts of the earth, and each spice must be included in each separate batch, according to Gods taste at the time, and the spices are the sublime archetypes carried in the spirits of subtly similar individuals.

                Everywhere on earth this is attempting to happen, and a similar cast of characters is operating on different stages, in different costumes, with different scripts, and yet with one consistent intention- to complete the show.

Thus I found that there were patterns of spiritual archetypes running as threads through my life; individuals playing certain roles, in certain aspects, at certain times of my existence, and when one went off in a different direction from mine, another of their strain stepped in- another person carrying the same spirit, who was there to replace their predecessor, perhaps years or even decades later, but sooner or later the whole must be sealed again and all the missing parts must appear. These parts are the types of the archetypes from which we draw out our completeness; the separate rooms by which we build and come to live in our own illustrious castles.


excerpted from:


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



IN AND OF: memoirs of a mystic journey

by Jack Haas


















spirit and flesh, mystical books, visionary art, fine art photography

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




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