Sin, separation, and the silence of the self

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My sin was the belief that I was separate.

Like the sclerotic conduit of unholy tears, I had been unwittingly plugging the divine flow from carving its natural unseparate path, simply because I was trying to exist in the comfort of division; I was attempting to disappear behind any exposure, to cloak myself under the guise of autonomously existing; I sought to become a separate, calloused growth around my absence; to become something, anything, so that the soft, unprotected nothingness inside might have, around it- like a turtle's shell- the security of somewhere always to hide.

You see, Eye had simply been claiming to possess what was not mine- me. But I gave myself back, or stole myself away, it seems hardly to matter. There was no force to serve nor oppose. I was the force.

The chasm was not crossed- that spasmodic cleft of my dull surprise- because I was on the correct side all along.

Oh, how beautiful it is to live. Why I raged with such futility against it all, I shall never know. I suppose I simply could not endure the silence ...of the Self.

Hard indeed it is to stop, to end, to fall away from it all, and to let the greater life live through you.        

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These fragments and quotes are taken from the unpublished writings of Jack Haas, selected from the notebooks 1990-2005.