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Self empowerment: flowing spirit, clogging the way, digression, intent, and individuality

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




I came to accept that to get back to myself I could not depend on another. I could not care about what I had, what I didnít have, what I had been, what I might be, where I was going, or when I would get there. I could not care. I could only try to live completely, without imagining what that meant.

                There were many times when tempting options would emerge before me and attempt to divert my way- small or trifling amusements of one sort or another, suggested under the pretext of one reason or another, offering the benefit or pleasure of one desire or another. And though I often stopped to look around and see what all the commotion was about, perhaps even striking up a short conversation or taking part for a brief spell, sooner than later I had to be on my way. Thanks, but no thanks- this became my unspoken motto. Enjoy your reality, have your laughs, and comforts, and distractions. I must keep going, keep flowing, keep moving on to where I donít know but if I stop here and enjoy the delay Iíll end here, barren, confused, and out of steam for the next hill.

                Just as a person falls over when they stop completely on a bicycle, I had to keep moving, keep going forward, keep pushing towards what comes and goes and flows on forever. I had to learn to be my own current, to cascade over and past all that had stopped moving and was clogging or jamming the riverís way. I had to recognize and feel the stasis and fear people allow inside of them and in which the spirit condenses, solidifies, and moves no further.

                I had to keep losing myself in order to find another me, keep letting life change and include me in that newness. I had to die over and over again so that ...I could live.

                And now I count my grey hairs as one for each time I denied life and blocked the flow through fear, sorrow, preconception, or sloth. These are badges I wear not proudly, but am glad for their reminder of the perilous halts I put in my own way. For it was only after I had realized that all I had been taught was merely a perilous mishmash of rubbish and lies, that the teachers and leaders had misled me unavoidably, and the masters and madmen had delivered to me their flightless swan songs, so that I was on my own again, as I had been so often before- it was then, in the stillness of my heart, that I began again to listen.

I had dreamed alone, thought alone, and walked alone, and I was through with the others. Better to cast my own light into my own darkness, I thought, for then Iíd be certain of what I couldnít see. And because I couldnít see, I stood dead still and ÖI listened.

I listened, because all the pointless words and actions had gone right through me, and nothing remained but the inviolable hollow. I listened to the hollow of my own being, because that was the only place left which had not been desecrated. I listened, and in that eternal void alone did I hear the echo of my own Great Dream.

Oh, it is a wild and crazy untraveled road weíre on. You find your way, you lose your way, you find another, and lose that one, and then another, and they keep coming and going and you keep stumbling along imagining youíre going someplace, though the Self never goes anywhere, but only the form and identity find and lose themselves in the flux and flare of the ephemeral.


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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