New Zealand travel: spiritual experiences: occult happenings and divine revelations
A book excerpt from the Iconoclast Press online library.
I was sent on a tour of duty to New Zealand, the orders of which came in one dream: I dreamt that my father owned a banana plantation in that country. A simple dream, and one which Jungians or other symbolists would no doubt tear apart and massacre into a tepid message bound up in historical archetypes and mythology. But this was no alchemical dream. For I had already recognized many times before that when I dreamt of my father, this was actually the male aspect of the Godhead communicating to me, and when I dreamt of my mother it was the female aspect. So, my father had a banana plantation in New Zealand. I was therefore bound for that destination, without question. Except first I had to correct the simple problem that I was penniless, a factor which was fixed in short order as I was guided to quickly earn enough money for the journey.
I arrived in Auckland, spent a few days on the nearby coast, then met up with my soror, who had flown in a few days after me, and together we hitchhiked out to the Coromandel Peninsula, so as to get away from the madding crowd as quickly as possible. After camping out uneventfully that first evening, we had our thumbs out again in the morning and were picked up by a multi-tattooed, rum-sipping, young renegade named Jim, who lived and worked in the area, had fathered four kids, and was on a weekend drive-about and binge while his wife and family were away elsewhere. He looked as tough as they come, but was as soft as a feather inside. Jim drove us down the coast a ways, and then let us off at a beach where we planned to hang about and camp that evening. However, after staying in the area for a few hours, the soror and I decided it wasn’t a place we wanted to camp, and so we walked back up to the road and stuck our thumbs out again. After waiting a short while a car came racing towards us and squealed to a halt. It was Jim again. He had driven a full loop around the area, just for the joy of it, and so once again we were in his buggy and heading south. I suppose Jim and I had found some comfort together by this time, and had located some common ground on which to converse, for we began discussing all sorts of fringe experiences including magic mushroom trips, and the play of the spirit on earth. And it was near the end of this second drive together, as we were approaching our next destination, that I decided to query Jim as to whether he knew anyone in the area who owned a banana patch. He said he knew of only one- his parents.
Ah yes, the spirit was with us- as if there was ever any doubt- for the spirit runs the whole show, and is the show, and no matter how obscure or impossible the odds, no matter how confused or disoriented we become trying to follow it, the guiding spirit is always with us, no matter what is going on, nor how chaotic or vague, we are always where we should be.
By the time we had ascertained that serendipitous piece of information about Jim’s parents, however, the evening was upon us, and it was too late to proceed on the quest, so the soror and I said goodnight to Jim, and he sped off on his merry way, and we went to a nearby campsite.
The next day the soror and I turned around and, following Jim’s directions to his parents, hitched back up the coast in the direction which we had just come the day before, arriving at his folks humble little homestead in the late morning.
Upon meeting them I was certain that I had found the intent of my sublime mission, for Jim’s parents turned out to be tremendously gentle, unobtrusive, generous, and meek folks. That is, they were children of God- the one who sent me, the one who harbors the outcasts, the impoverished, and the lonely. And Jim’s parents were doing just the same, as I was to find out, for they had created over many years, without riches, a safe haven for a fare number of dispossessed and homeless souls. Which is to say, they were doing God’s work on earth.
To be sure, they were no bible-thumping holier-than-thou types. In fact, the four of us never even spoke a word of religion between us. And I gathered, if I had to generalize, that these folks were influenced by Buddhism, marijuana, and gardening, more than anything else, and may never have even read nor heard of the Bible, or may have considered it absolute balderdash for all I know. But they had love in their hearts, and that, after all, is the only true religion.
So the soror and I spent the afternoon with Jim’s parents, and the four of us had some lovely conversation and communion, thus connecting our spirits through the eyes and, as such, remaining together even after parting. And that, I expect, was the intent of my sublime directive- to meet those meek and honest owners of the banana patch, and link souls with them. For in the act of meeting others at the soft and intimate essence of our separate cores, the consciousness of God within each of us comes into recognition of its divided parts, which, upon that recognition, are no longer divided. Thus the many become one.
Furthermore, after leaving those beatific folks, our stay in New Zealand came to provide a great wealth of cosmic and alchemical experiences for me, most of which are either incredibly difficult, or impossible to describe, for certain events in life are so unique and intimate with an individual’s exclusive path that the profundity and impact of such experiences cannot be related nor given to another- because they are intended for no other. I can only say, therefore, in a very imperfect way, that traveling to New Zealand, and to the southern hemisphere for the first time in my life, was like moving to a completely new vantage point in the earthly drama, and, as such, seeing it from a different perspective altogether.
On that trip I was to meet individuals who told impressive tales of their meetings with ‘masters’, such as Jesus; I met folks who claimed to have been healed by aliens, and others who had spent decades on Mt. Shasta, studying the ‘I AM’ teachings of both the masters and aliens. I also met, on the south island, one of my sisters who came from the same limb of the Tree of Life as myself, and who was not only a member of my physical sister’s spiritual archetype, but was also so connected to the minutiae of my own life that we had a vast array of mundane occurrences in common: like the fact that she had begun playing the recorder at the same time as I, just weeks before our meeting, and she had, I was to find out, pinned onto her office wall the exact three short pieces of inspired writing that I had been carrying with me, and occasionally handing out to acquaintances whom I thought might enjoy them.
These types of ‘coincidental’ similarities are regular occurrences for souls lying close to one another at the epicenter of the creative core, regardless of their distance from each other on earth. Just as it has been found that identical twins, having been separated at birth, who find each other as adults, often have an implausible number of similar occurrences and interests in their lives; so it is the same with the subtle essence of spiritual siblings, who may know nothing of each other, but are still inspired from the same center, and therefore often share many commonalities, both sacred and profane.
In addition to all of the above, on that trip to New Zealand something was being worked out for, or between, my soror and myself. Something hidden, unconscious, or dark.
There are manifold reasons for me stating this, but only a few of which can be related, for these alone had cohesion in the manifest.
For example, my soror eventually purchased a used car while we were in New Zealand, so that we could tour the south island without the agony of further hitchhiking. She acquired it from a fellow who bought and sold cars to travelers as a way of making his daily keep. The interesting thing was this- not only did she have a prophetic dream of the exact car we ended up taking, but, a few days earlier I had dreamt that a debt, or penalty, had to be paid, for the killing of six people. Whether this was a purely symbolic, alchemical, transformative, karmic, vicarious, or penitential dream- to this day I do not know, but I do know that the car we drove away with- the one my soror had a preconceptual dream about- had the license plate K1ll 06, on it. Not likely a coincidence, not in my life anyway, and not a great omen to boot.
We spent much of the next six weeks touring the south island in that odd chariot, and guerrilla camping on the most remote beaches we could find, all the while throwing our spirits into each other- as is the way of the alchemical partnership- and then resurrecting each other out of the ruins.
We were also at this time practicing the sublime art of spiritually witnessing each other, by which we would sit face to face, at a distance of four or five feet from each other, and then soften and yet focus our separate gazes, away from the material realm and into the spiritual, and so see what was happening within the essence of the other. It was a tremendous esoteric art which we were learning from only our own internal intuition and guidance, but which would lead us down a path towards a vision neither of us expected, nor desired to see.
It happened that we had chosen a wild and distant beach just south of the town of Haast, my namesake, in which to enter the year 2000- the millennium changeover. We were alone out there but for a couple of charming little Blue penguins, and a swarm of not-so-charming sand flies, which is a common insult on New Zealand shores. And so we had retreated into our tent, deep in the woods, and had entered into the sublime seeing art when the horrors unfolded.
I expect that there was some fairly dark energy in the ether over the entire globe that evening, what with thoughts of apocalypse, armageddon, apokatastasis, and the second-coming roaming with wild abandon through the consciousness of six billion people, and into the common unconscious sea linking us all. But whether the soror and I had picked up a communal wave length, or were perceiving our own hidden demons, I do not know, but I do know that at the peak of stillness and subtle penetration required of the art we both disappeared from each other’s sight, and all that remained was …the Beast. I say this with absolute, categorical literalism. What lay before me, and before my soror, as she later expressed, was the inexplicable, undeniable vision of a fur-covered, crazed, wild, angry, and animalistic Beast. If you have seen the character created in recent renditions of Beauty and the Beast- a story which is nothing more than the metaphorical drama about the duality which lies within all of us- you will know exactly what we saw, in, and through the other. Quite a millennium shift, let me tell you.
As I say, I do not claim to understand the exact nature of our visions; whether we were meeting only the inner beast possessed by the soror and I- hence the K1ll 06 vehicle- or the repressed beast which lurks in the common unconscious and therefore belongs to all of us. To be sure, I have certainly found no shortage of darkness within myself, when I have been honest enough to take actual account. I have found aggression, deceit, violence, avarice, and lovelessness within myself, which are facts I do not admit proudly, but only for the sake of telling it like it is. For since all things are clear in the sight of heaven, it matters little whether I come forth with such admittances or not, for all actions and thoughts are well documented in the ledgers above. I admit to these heinous characteristics only because in admitting to them do I hope to weaken them, and so to cause less division, destruction, and despair in the future.
Much of these agonies of which I speak come down to one, and only one, crucial flaw within myself: judgment. It is my judgment of others which has caused great division, my judgment of others which has caused me to destroy, and my judgment which has brought despair.
And so I pray, Lord, let me no longer create despair nor loneliness, unless it be Thy bidding. Let me bring but love and rapture, and let me celebrate the day. Let me hold, and heal, and forgive them, as they must hold, and heal, and forgive me. Let me kiss, admire, accept, and release them.
Lord, let me bring them home.
 As much as I appreciate Jung and the entire dream-interpretation movement, the cosmos is far fuller, far more intertwined, invisible, intimate, and intelligent than can be explained by boiling everything down into archaic messages from the common unconscious. It takes only one astral journey for an individual to realize that conventional dream theory is absolutely inadequate to deal with the hinterland of sleep. The universe is alive and conscious, and far beyond what certain limiting understandings will ever allow us to admit.
 The ways in which I was guided to make such money, wherein there was no doubt that the invisible hand was choreographing the whole show, are described in my earlier book, In, and Of.
 “…that also he should gather together in one the children of God that were scattered abroad.” John 11:52
 For example, I was to discover on that trip that the earth itself is a living, hologromatic whole in which aspects of the earth are mirrored through itself, inverted, and contorted, and shot out somewhere else on the globe. Such understandings came about because I began to recognize the similarities between New Zealand and the much smaller Queen Charlotte Islands, off the coast of western Canada: both Archipelagos are composed of two main islands, both have large sand-spits running off the north end, both have fiord-like areas on the south west side of the southern island, and both have a reasonable sized island in the very south. The island is Stewart Island in New Zealand, and Kunghit Island in the Charlottes, which, interestingly enough, is separated from the southern main island by Huston-Stewart Channel.
This kind of holistic observation will be hard to stomach for most people who require hardened facts. No matter, I point this out to those who are willing to bend their perspectives enough to see the possibility that the earth is a living entity, and, furthermore, is an orb whose living circumference is reflected through its core, and therefore, just as in the spiritual realm, everything in the material realm is mirrored in and through all else. All is reflected in all.
 There is a detailed description of spiritual archetypes in my book In, and Of. Briefly, however, a spiritual archetype is the underlying essence of a person, and this essence is the same in anyone belonging to the same common soul, just as, physiologically, all people of European stock are Caucasoid, and all those of African stock are Negroid, and so on. However, the spiritual archetype is an inner, eternal essence, to which individuals residing on the same branch of the Tree of Life belong, and of which they are unique expressions, or, types of the arche-types, as it were.
 Oriah Mountain Dreamer’s The Invitation, Nelson Mandela’s inaugural speech, and Goethe’s classic quote on commitment.
(excerpted from Roots and Wings: adventures of a spirit on earth, by Jack Haas)
Books by Jack Haas. Autobiography, Memoir, Spirituality, Mysticism, Comparative Religion, Poetry, Art, Photography.