Friday, October 25, 2013
The thing is... and I want to be honest, the place
we're stepping into is too pristine to be soiled...
the thing was... I thought I was writing the
New Testament.
A number of my friends knew this, and I guess most of
them wrote me off... as having finally stepped over
that Edge I had been working all my life.
Most of them, I suppose, believed I meant it,
and they figured: "Oh well, this is a quirk, likely in time
he'll get over it... and even if he doesn't he's fun
to be with... he's just a bit mad, that's all.
Others, I suppose, thought I was a full-blown
psychotic and getting dangerous to be around.
And they weren't entirely wrong either.
The problem I was having on my own is this:
I knew I hadn't written some of this material. And I truly
believed it was the Lord of Hosts who was filling
in the blanks when a text stumped me.
Because that's how it happened... I'd follow
a text along until the text went into an
overly complicated doublethink... that no
one would be able to get through, or at least
that I couldn't.
And I'd sit on the edge of the cliff,
my spine straight, and let my mind clear,
let the internal Eternal River Ganges
wash all thoughts clean... I truly
became the empty vessel.
Twenty or so minutes later (I had
no sense of time during moments like that)
I'd look at the text again... and as I
looked once more closely at the text
the clouds would open and the sun would blaze
down upon the pages and I'd start to write.
When I felt the holy Presence,
I went back to work... and my hand flowed
and His Hand wrote... and some time
later I'd put the book down.
I'd return from the City of the ancient words,
the primordial City which was becoming
the future Holy City on a hill. The
two times merged into One Present time,
as they always do when one is deep
in meditation.
The ancient was redeemed by the new,
and the new was washed clean by these
ancient words of Truth.
Ancient Jerusalem was becoming
New Jerusalem, and the bells were ringing
in the mind of God; and some kind
of glory was taking place around me.
The sky opened and the angels were singing.
There were times when I was
afraid to take my eyes from the page
of the book, and look around me. I was
afraid of what I would become.
The blanks that He filled in were
sometimes three pages long. Once again I'll say it!
I WAS JUST UNDERSTANDING THE TOP OF THE
PAGE, AS MY HAND WAS ALREADY WRITING THE BOTTOM OF THE PAGE.
These days we know that many writers have
had the experience of channelling. This event
I was experiencing was somewhat similar. Except I
was channelling I AM THAT I AM
Our Father Who Art In Heaven,
the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel, the God of
Albion and the Americas, the Lord of the Meeting
Rivers, Yahweh, Jehovah, JAH, the Great One who
rules the clouds and who speaks to us with total
Knowledge and understanding.
This One was who I was "channelling"
kneeling half-naked on the granite of the Laurentian
Shield, getting cuts on my knees and hands, the
One who was speaking through me was
The One Who Is Creating Us. There was no doubt
at all about that.
The experience was too much for my young
mind and my unbalanced sense of self,
my grandiose self-esteem and my utter lack of
self-esteem.
It occurred to me as I grew older and
more balanced and mature: there are too many
"my" words in the above paragraph, and other
paragraphs like it.
Whatever was going on, it had very little
to do with me. For I know what I am. I am an empty
vessel - who is highly trained in literature and law.
I am told the Japanese have a saying:
"THE PERFECT HOST IS THE ONE WHO
IS NOT THERE AT ALL."
That's what I was: the perfect host, the empty
vessel, the flute the wind could
play a note through, the bell that was rung
by the Lord of Hosts.
And, of course, some days I was not.
When you see the text start to repeat itself
too much... when the words are repeated in a
manic and obsessional way, that was me
writing.
When the same point is made
three times over, that is what I wrote alone.
The record was on skip.
I guess someday someone
is going to have to edit this manuscript.
If so. it is important that that person not be
a person from any particular sect - a person
with a religious chip on his or her
shoulder. Or, worse, an agent of the old
Empire church with a mission to
supress. A mission to suppress the Truth
and change it to statements which are comfortable,
easily lucrative, and convenient.
Enough about me! I no longer
feel that dreadful seriousness I was feeling
a few days ago.
This stuff is not about me; it is for you
to decide what it is...
The other night I got up on stage and
I sang some of the songs I had not sung
for fiteen years.
The crowd's applause was not just
applause. It turned to cheering...
I realized these people liked
me more than I liked myself.
And it was all about them,
these people who listened,
not about me. They were the
ones who would carry the song and let it fly.
These are the people - you are the people
who will carry the dream.
So I feel much lighter about
this whole situation... about continuing to release
some of the words which passed through me
up at the cliff top of the hut.
These are the words that were
written at Temple's Gate.
And so:
The poet said: "Lord, you are the Christ,
the Anointed One, the True One of God,
I love you. I think I am beginning to
understand."
Jesus said: "And yet you shall deny
Me."
The poet said: "I am not Peter."
Jesus said: "Are you not? You are
only a common man, that is why I
teach thee, because of your simplicity.
Peter was not unlike thee."
The poet said: "Help me, Lord. Help
me, Father, to see."
Jesus said: "I am helping thee. Soon
you will know Me. But there will be
days when you will wish to forget
I exist. There will be days when
others will ask you if you saw Me.
And you will deny Me."
The poet said: "Lord, that is not true."
Jesus said: "Time alone will reveal
what you shall be."
The poet said: "I will not deny Thee."
Jesus said: "Then take up my cross.
I think it will be somewhat heavy
for thee. At least do this: write what
I say to you faithfully. Then you will
have done all I ask of thee. Yet if
you truly are one of the courageous
ones, you will see Me."
The poet said: "Lord that is what I
need."
Jesus said: Only so may a man be free.
By shouldering the ultimate responsibility
and learning to be his own Authority. For
all true Authority comes from Me. Yet
I am what you are. There is no need to
travel far to see Me. Look upon the
Living One while you live, learn this
secret, and death will not come to
thee."
Reading the words the True One
spoke, and knowing the appreciation
of friends... I am moved to tears.
I am so thankful.
A weight has been lifted
from my shoulders. I am
so very grateful.
(C)2013 by William G. Milne
Text is not to be duplicated
without notice.
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