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Mystery of life: we don't know anything: the mystery of existence

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



As a young man my mother told me that a mother’s job was to give her children “roots and wings”, which I suppose it is, although, unfortunately, as hard as she tried, for the most part I had neither roots nor wings, but was more like a dandelion seed blown about in the air, and so I flew, but not by my own power, and was part of the earth, but rarely grounded.

                My father once declared “We are spirits having a human experience, rather than humans having a spiritual one”, which is true, although, again, I was often neither spirit nor human, but only an amorphous mass of energy and form, unable to live in the world, and unable to escape beyond it.

                My mother’s second husband, however, said perhaps the most pertinent thing of all to me when I was young; after he had finished expounding about one of the world’s scientific understandings, he turned to me and confessed, “But we really don’t know anything. We don’t know anything at all.”

It was this Socratic disclosure which was perhaps a prophecy describing my awaiting confrontation with conceptual lostness, or mystic ignorance, as it were. And by that I mean that during the years to follow, of struggle and disorientation, while attempting to ‘be myself’, another psychological valve eventually broke within me, and this new rupture became a massive turning point, because it shattered my novice reality and sent me out into the same old world, but as if I had never truly seen it before.

This event I have called, in retrospect, my hallowed unawakening. It was an experience that has colored the rest of my days ever since, for better or worse, of that I am not certain. It came upon me one evening in Vancouver, as I was strolling leisurely home from a friend’s house, after a night of revelry and merriment. I had fallen into that controlled and somnambulistic gait which comes upon an individual traversing the same path which they have walked back and forth many times before, and therefore they can drift off onto auto-pilot, as it were, and let their legs alone ferry them home.

And so I was ambling along, most likely deeply invested in one or more of the many questions that chronically plagued me at the time- the whys? and whats? and so ons of our existence- questions for which no one has of yet provided any reasonable answers. And I suppose that I had chased these fantastic conundrums down to the furthest reaches of which I was capable of attaining at the time, and from which, like a fool, I had expected to return to the surface with a proper answer and so be done with the business of thinking then and there, and then get on with the rest of my awaiting life. Boy was I in for a turn of events, for the exact opposite of my expectations happened; which is to say, at the height of my questioning I was suddenly and inexorably struck dumb with the very fact of existence itself, and, more specifically- my existence. What I mean is that I came to an abrupt halt in my peripatetic speculations, my mouth slid helplessly open, I clenched at my forehead and froze- I had become immobilized by the implausibility ...of being, and, more specifically- of my being. And yet this barely describes the state of mystic exasperation into which I had fallen.

                I was in the mystery, and ¼I was the Mystery. Finally I had forgotten everything. Everything. Nothing but a blank, brilliant slate remained. Even that nebulous, impossible word ‘God’- even that- I forgot what it means, and, more importantly ...what it does not mean.



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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