This is "The Hut" at the top of the cliff. I built it after reading the Gospel of Thomas. I'd been playing guitar
on the stage of a nightclub on Yonge Street, Toronto's Main
Street. The club was called "The Zanzibar."
It was time to move from the Zanzibar to the top
of a cliff.
The cliff over looks a lake that is 250 miles
north of Toronto and to the east of Highway 11,
towards Quebec. The lake is surrounded by hills
to the north and east.
I started walking in the bush, climbing
the hills and ridges, spending time in various places.
I was looking for a place of power. The First
Nations People used to have ceremonies on
Trout Lake going back 2,000 years. Seven circles
of stone had been set out in the woods,
rising up a hill. The natives walked these
circles climbing slowly. You can see places set
in the stone where they set the pipes
which they smoked as part of the ceremony.
Rather than follow the circles round,
I stepped across the circles in order to climb
to the top... at the top, a cat hissed at me
in that place of power. So the place was
sufficiently strong to animate a cat.
When I finally found the hut site,
at the top of the cliff face, I was able to
sense the health and power of the place
immediately. As it turned out, a much larger
wildcat resided in this place of power -
so I was in the right place. It took about a
month and a half to build the cabin.
I had to buy a horse to haul the oak
logs from where I cut them to the cliff face.
I got three bushmen up the mountain to help
me hoist the longs onto the walls. I understand
now why oak is considered a holy
wood. Try and hammer a twelve inch spike
into an oak log... if you don't hit it
dead on with a heavy hammer, the spike
will bend like butter.
All the trees in the woods on top of
the cliff were small oak trees, I didn't deliberately
choose that kind of wood. The four men -
we attempted to carry a
fourteen foot oak log on out shoulders, it
didn't work. We could get the log up
on our shoulders but even counting out
the time, we couldn't take a step.
This is just to give a little background
information to the narrative - to show you
I'm not making this up.
There is an almost constant
wind up over the cliff face, and when there's
a snowstorm, things start to look pretty
dramatic.
To the east, the Ottawa River drains
water down to the St Lawrence River
and to the sea. To the west of this high point,
the French River drains into Georgian Bay,
to Lake Huron... then through the Great Lakes
out towards the sea.
The fact that this cliff face creates
a divide in the watershed, perhaps explains
why a magnetic phenomenon exists
there, also. The northern lights
seem to circle right about this place,
and I assume they did so even before
I started working on the newly discovered
ancient gospels in that place of power.
The size of the cabin is 14 feet by eight feet.
Inside it was a wood stove which was right in front of
you as you walked in the door. To your left as you
stood in the doorway was a desk about three and
a half feet long and two and a half feet wide.
It was built of 1" by 6" planks. Its legs were oak logs.
The bed was behind you as you sat at the
desk. It was made of 1"x6" planks. The bed
was six and a half feet long and over three feet
wide.
The desk sat under the window. There
were some plank shelves, and some
wooden pegs driven into the logs
for hanging clothing.
The nearest road was a dirt road
about three-quarters of a mile away.
There was no electricity or media .
It is a mile of deep forest valleys, cliff
faces and steep rock hills.
All supplies had to be carried in by
what looked like a goat path, after I had
walked up and down it about twenty
times.
Bags of cement had to be
carried up the steep, rocky hill.
Verses like the following
are what got me looking for a sacred
place to begin with.
I decided that few people would
read the Nag Hammadi Library, unless it was
changed into more easily flowing form of
English. I've tried to improve the flow
and of course I ended up doing a lot
more than that.
Verses like the following one are what
got me looking for a sacred place on a hilltop
in the bush to begin with.
Text:
"You must go out into
the wilderness and leave all comforts
of home behind you. You must forget
all your daily concerns. You must forget
all memories of the past, or thoughts of
the future. You must clear your mind
of all thoughts, ideas or other considerations.
You must forget your desire for your
loved one. Strip yourself bare of all
desires. Make yourself clean.
Then you may come to converse with Me."
The poet walked out into the wilderness
Behind him leaving all comforts of home
or family, all thoughts of daily commerce, all
desire for his lady,, and with a clear mind
walked alone into the depths of the
forest, taking with him only water and
the oil to light a lamp.
The poet was returning to the depths
of his soul. He was also doing what he
was told.
He came to a clear and breezy place,
near a hilltop and overlooking lakes and
valleys. The cloudy autumn air was beginning
to get a little chilly. The poet was about
serious business - yet not to be taken
seriously by anyone except those
who are trapped within the confines of
specific identities.
At the top of the cliff, he lit a fire
among the rocks that stood on a rise
behind the cliff face. He poured water
into a pot and let it boil over the fire.
Into the pot he threw all edible forms
of food and fuel he found in the woods
around him - ferns, and leaves,
wintergreen berries, and all kinds
of manna which was growing
beneath the trees of the forest
around him.
He cooked up the brew and
drank it; it tasted tart, and sweet;
it tasted sour also, but of the
earth itself.
After a time, sitting in the
silence, he started to laugh at
all his worries; he laughed at himself,
at his serious concerns and determinations,
his food worries, his business worries,
his worry at his own inexplicable
primordial fear...
It seemed ridiculous to him
that such fearful thoughts and concerns:
should blind him - blind him to the
whole vast and panoramic scene that
was unfolding before him, both
within himself and externally. The
world, or so it seemed, was too vast
for such blindness, such inexplicable
Forgetting.
Not only had he forgotten,
but there it was before him:
a whole populace that had forgotten,
residing concernedly in the valleys
below.
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