Iconoclasts, rebels, and mavericks:
an iconoclast's memoirs.
   
     The following excerpt is from
ROOTS AND WINGS: adventures of a spirit on earth, by Jack Haas, "The Kerouac of the new millennium." (FW)
     ...I uprooted the Tree of Knowledge, and then burned the fruit using the limbs for a pyre.
I resonated entropy into the tangling forms, tearing all of life's hardened images from my virginal eyes, and finally I forgot the knowledge by which I had been ex-communicated from Life. And when I staggered back onto my feet and found my new footing in the ether- that was the first step I ever took forward.
     It was as if I finally caught up to myself, and then ...I existed no longer. As if I descended and then rose again, resurrecting myself out of the death of what I know I was not, into what I know not; no, I do not know what it was that I was, nor what it is that I am- and this is the cornerstone of my absorption.
     I did not, after all, contaminate my being in the vortex of plausibility. I did not embrace the rhetorical overtures of conception. I did not accept life's eternal distractions. My task was, and is, to continually not-know what others claim to know; to weigh the anchors of the mind.
I have no truths, only the rejection of all untruths. I did not find a conclusion, only a beginning; I disappeared into mystery, emerging out of the absence of myself.
     Yea indeed, as the raging forms glistened in the ecstasy of what may, I stood again before myself.
Indeed, it is time to purge the cloaca of our fetid concepts; time to cauterize our septic meanderings; time to euthanize obsolete symbologies. After all I have seen, and all I have unseen, I now preen conception from my mind like a baboon picking squirming gnats from its own knotted fur; I gnaw upon the mind's maggots.
     I simply want to erase everything and to start anew; to smash the blackboards, and throw away the chalk. Oh, life indeed is a more genuine mystery than it is a common fact. 
I am no longer a coward of the mind, I will not cognitively submit to agreeable notions. I unknow the world ...defiantly.
     In a genocide of cerebrations I massacre ontologies and pillage their existential remains, ruthlessly exterminating ideas, and hacking my way through the barricades of false emancipations. For in the realm of false understandings there is no heroism, only a war that never ceases, and soldiers that never die.
     You see, though mine was a distorted illumination; like the blinding light of the sun, bouncing off the lightless, light-giving moon, I did still rise up in the night of our being, and shine forth despite my perpetual darkness.
     And now I have returned to take mankind's whole being away with a single malicious observance. 
Give me your greatest edifice, man, that I may with innocence knock it mercilessly to the ground.
I did not come to take part, but to take apart. Mine is a ruinous decomprehension. I have devoured facts, and excreted mystery; sacrificing so as to get rid of- and not with intent to gain- I did not cauterize the infected wound, I severed the entire limb; I unrecognized existence in a fanatical moment of destructive non-interpretation. I am a wild animal of mind. I am ferocious in brave ecstasy. I am savage …because I am free. The blood of meaning is on my hands. ...




Jack Haas is a wilderness explorer, world traveler, and independent researcher and writer. He is the author of four highly acclaimed books:
THE WAY OF WONDER: a return to the mystery of ourselves, ROOTS AND WINGS: adventures of a spirit on earth, THE DREAM OF BEING: aphorisms, ideograms, and aislings, and IN, AND OF: memoirs of a mystic journey.
 
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