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Letting go, surrender, journey to beingness, and mystery: spiritual dismemberment and tranquility

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



My whole life I had forgotten to just be nothing and nobody but beingness itself. And it was only the journey out to the raw and notionless church of the spirit which healed me back to Being. And a wave of peace and understanding washed over me, for I could see what I had lost by my struggles in the world, and, more importantly, in myself. And I could see that I had been lifted out again, out to regain myself, my nobodiness, my soul, my me. My journey had been fortuitous; that specific war going on inside of me was over. The fight had ended, and it had ended because ...I had no fight left, no struggle, no panic, no thoughts. I had surrendered without trying. Nothing was left, and yet the whole realm of being remained. Not my being, although somehow I was still a part of it, because I hadnít gone anywhere, I had only worn myself out shadowboxing alone or sparring with God, and when I had no strength left in me, the effort to defend or attack was over, the battle turned into a game, the gladiatorís sword into a fencing stick, the opponents became an audience, and there I was in the middle of a circus ring and waiting for the next stuffed lion to be let out of its cage.

                In the hollow reaches of no thought, where the form is released from the will of the Law ...I stopped. Everything else continued. Only I stopped. I did not become, I unbecame.

                Perhaps it is symbolic that I was horizontal when I hit this ground state of being; I lay there sensing existence all around me- an existence I had somehow, for some reason, been opposed to, or it had been opposed to me, but now it was over, I was finished, and that same existence suddenly took on an unaffecting, benign quality which I had never expected. I lay there in a state of immense tranquility, as if the seven demons within me had just been exorcised, and all that remained was the almost dead and yet living, emaciated carcass of the host. As if someone had come along to finally unlock the cage I was in, but I continued to sit there, because now the cage did not hold me, now it was nothing but a harmless object of interest which I had no reason to be in a panic to leave. And so I lay there, and the existence which had tortured and racked me, and which I had struggled to avoid, or take part in, or modify, or destroy, was still there, the exact same existence, only I had stopped struggling, had stopped completely, and in that total lack I was emancipated from the chains I had bound about myself. I was free because there was nothing left to bind.

Never had I understood what the word which I had read perhaps ten thousand times in my life- and attempted to accomplish but never succeeded- meant: surrender. And now I knew why I had not accomplished it, because surrender cannot be accomplished, because surrender is the absence of the struggle to accomplish anything; it is the end of all trying or attempting to conquer or understand life.

I had finally gone still inside the limitless reaches of meaning and mystery, where the atom consumes the universe, and the self devours the whole.

Itís a bloody crazy mess to relate, but things change instantly when youíre finished with life and yet living. Let me tell you, as I became emptied of the last vestige of recognition, purpose, or need- suddenly I  ...I ceased without ending, and remained while still going on. I donít know how to say it better. It cannot be said. Itís, like I said- itís crazy.

When the world you have loved, and lived, and laughed in, eventually crumbles helplessly about you- as it is certain to do with all of us sooner or later- and you stand humbly in the harmony of your songís last note, and the lightís last flicker- it may happen that you will flinch for an anxious moment as if to right it all again, but if youíre quick enough (and at times I was quick, and ruthless, and wild from the passion of my spiritual dismemberment, and wholly determined, if nothing more, to find and be myself, and only myself, through to the bloody bitter end) let it go.

For it is in that moment- as the chastening reaches its cold zenith, and the degradation its dark nadir- when it all comes down, when youíve lost everything you ever had- the hopes, promises, truths, pleasures, and words are all gone- and youíre alone somewhere in the darkness- dead and yet living- and none of your life makes any sense, none of it, because all of your caring has only led to loss, that is when, as I said, the best thing to do is let it go.

In the wash and fire of the spiritís healing, in the sacrificial disembowelment of the mind, in the fiery assumption of the grosser self, when you know youíre done for, because the Word itself hovers hopelessly above the willess flesh- when the shit has hit the fan, so to speak, you let it go.

I let it go. I let go. And that was the finish and start of me.


excerpted from:


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



IN AND OF: memoirs of a mystic journey

by Jack Haas



















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




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