“People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own souls. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.” -Carl Jung
“The modern hero, the modern individual who dares to heed the call and seek the mansion of that presence with whom it is our whole destiny to be atoned, cannot, indeed must not, wait for his [sic] community to cast off its slough of pride, fear, rationalized avarice, and sanctified misunderstanding. ‘Live,’ Nietzsche says, “as though the day were here.’ It is not society that is to guide and save the creative hero, but precisely the reverse. And so every one of us shares the supreme ordeal- carries the cross of the redeemer- not in the bright moments of his [sic] tribe’s great victories, but in the silences of his personal despair.”
The concluding paragraph of Joseph Campbell’s, “The Hero With A Thousand Faces”
“It appears to me as if the omnipotent intelligence of planet Earth is recognizing the advancement in the level of evolution in human beings.”–Shahabuddin David Less.
The beautiful young woman on the phone was describing her experience in the forest, hearing the voice of the Earth speak to her of thousands of years of pain. As a child, her parents and all the elders told her to pray. They told her that if she would pray, she would feel God in her heart, but although she prayed and prayed, she felt nothing. And then this, this mystery, this miracle, this sitting on the Earth and hearing, simply hearing the voice of the Mother herself, telling the story of her pain.
And her heart broke wide open and she began to feel everything and hear everything– all of the feelings, all of the voices of the One Being. At first the voices of pain were easier to hear and she felt her life slipping away into the Abyss, her soul tumbling into fear and desolation. But as she fell, another voice reached out to her from beyond the Void, penetrating her heart, filling her soul with light and hope.
“Go back to the earth and make love, little one.” it said. “Make love on the prairie, on the beach, on the forest floor. So many people are raped on the Earth nowadays, but so few people lie down in love on her body.
“Make love on her. Make wild love on her. Make crazy love on her. Let her feel your ecstasy. Let her feel your joy. Let her know how grateful you are for your life. Let her know how grateful you are for your life. Thank her for the gift of your life with your whole body and everything you feel– what prayer could be more beautiful than this? What prayer could be more beautiful than this?
“Tell her, tell her you will do whatever is within your power to do to help to heal this world and ask her to heal you, ask her, humbly and openly, to heal you, to heal you completely, so that you may serve the healing of this world.
“Then put all your attention to your healing. And when it is done, when it is done, when the healing is completed, live your vow– give all you are able to give to the healing of this world. You will see miracles.
“You will see miracles. And you will be Magic.”
That was my voice. I am her Teacher, her Guide. And these things I learned from my Teacher, my Guide, but when the world was cracking open for me and rushing into my heart with all it’s pain and joy and horror and beauty, and the tears did not stop for more than four years, I did not have a Guide.
I am lucky to be here in this world. So fortunate not to have been consumed by desolation and darkness. When I first met Shahabuddin, he pointed me out from a group of about 75 people and said, “You almost didn’t make it.” And I knew it was true.
So I am here, now for the young people of our community, holding the light as they traverse the darkness, throw themselves headlong into the abyss, penetrate the Void, all in the name of finding that Truth which Awakens within us as Embodied Divine Love. Hopefully, their journeys will be easier than mine because I am here. Hopefully, I will save them some time. My mother always said, “A good teacher will save you time.” One never knows, though. One just does the best that one can do every moment and the rest is up to the brilliant Universe.
We rarely talk about ourselves as individual “I’s” in the Dervish tradition, but my life is all I have to offer to the world. It is the most precious gift God has given me, and it is the most precious gift I can give. So I talk about my life. I write about my life. I love my life. I live my life. And I strive to inspire others to live their lives in this way- with complete fullness, with uncompromised vitality.
Amidst all this pain and suffering, there is so much beauty here, and as we learn to love through and beyond it all, as we learn to transform the darkness within and around us, not by denial but by embracing, we become, one by one, part of the healing.
The Message which came through for this beautiful, sensitive young woman opening into her enlightenment, is a Message for All of us– if we can call up the courage to heal ourselves, we can heal the world. We can heal this world. Together. All we have to do is heal ourselves and it will begin.
This came today from Shahabuddin, the man who has been my teacher, my guide in a human body, who trained me, and who is now my strong ally and enduring friend.
The resonance in his letter today is so deep, with the work of our community and especially with the theme of protection which has recently arisen through this blog and in our lives here, that I felt powerfully called to share his words with all of you.
We are all doing this work and it is working. And it is crucial to courageously and lovingly confront the limitation, the fear, the anything-within-ourselves-or-one-another-which-would-degrade-the-exquisite-beauty-of-the-human-spirit or attempt to prevent the heart rising to it’s most ascended condition of freedom. It is crucial to stand up for the best in ourselves and in one another.
Only the old habits of the mind can prevent us from claiming the glorious reality of our birth right, of who and what we truly are and were born to be.
One of my students called me the Destroyer a few days ago– she said I destroyed fear. But she let me in. She let me be that.
It is true: I can often see where we need to go, but there is no power I have that you do not give me. For those of you who are willing to live with courage, I thank you, with all my heart.
In Loving Kindness,
Here is the Message from Shahabuddin:
It is my belief that the 21st century will be a time of a great shift of consciousness in our planetary soul.
This era can be a moment for humanity and our planet to take a great step forward.
It appears to me as if the omnipotent intelligence of planet Earth is recognizing the advancement in the level of evolution in human beings. Prior to this point, because of the lack of respect for human beings by human beings, the planet was less of a player, in a sense, in changes that occurred in human history.
As we read history, although it is spiced with natural disasters, it is a story of human cruelty and greed, with brief moments of hope and illumination.
In this century, hope and illumination will predominate, and the forces of human cruelty and limitation will begin to diminish. There are many who refuse to let the old model go and are firmly entrenched in the idea that egocentricity and limitation are part of the human being and cannot be expunged.
This habit of thinking is the product of eons of souls leaving the earth with this impression and passing it on to the next generation or generations. But at the beginning of the 20th century there was a wave of positive thought, albeit small, that began to produce seeds in the heavens of a different and more positive perspective of what life could be like on Planet Earth.
Those seeds have grown into plants, and those plants are beginning to flower.
We saw pockets of this in the 60’s, and see it appearing once again now, 50 years later. From my perspective, this is an evolutionary pinnacle, but instead of descending from this point, we will jump to a whole other level of compassionate energy.
The work of Rising Tide and other spiritual communities and groups of awakened people is to act as protection for these flowers, and also to fertilize the future, by teaching people how to live and die with awareness so that the lessons will not be lost, the beauty will not be wasted, and the future will be assured.
There is a cooperative consciousness that is emerging as a reality, but it is still in a delicate condition. Our dharma is to make sure that this consciousness is protected and shared.
It’s quite a challenge, and it requires all of our experience and courage. It is critical to remember that we are not alone, but are held lovingly in the arms of each other.
It was a horrifying dream. The girl came to the Christians, the Southern Baptists, so full of hope for humanity, and they cut off her hands and then her feet. All in the name of God. I woke up in waves of nausea.
In the dream, the greatest horror was that it was my story. I was the storyteller, and so this violence, this sacrilege, this horror came from me and was offered up to the community as a story through my presence and by my will. How could I do this? For hours, after waking, I felt troubled. Do I hate Southern Baptists? Do I feel the need to make them evil? And what does Obama have to do with all this?
Because, yes, Obama, was in my dream, bright as day, telling me to tell my stories to the people, and I knew he was hoping I would tell a story to inspire people to come together, to see and respect and appreciate one another, and this young girl in my story, she was the harbinger, the Second Coming, she was Jesus, and the Christians didn’t recognize her because she was telling them about the goodness in all religions, so they sacrificed her piece by piece in hopes that she would see the light or at least, through her pain and suffering become pure enough to be received by their God.
They didn’t even realize: She was their God. Incarnate. Again. And they did it again.
We did it again.
There is no separation: WE did it again.
In the dream, the story seemed to take on a life of its own.
I knew where it was going, only it didn’t go there. And the young people, the Christian young people who were in the audience kept leaving the room, withdrawing from the story and I felt I was failing and Obama was watching (which was very embarrassing, by the way).
And then I heard myself describing the violence, the dismemberment. And I could see it all in front of me as the audience could see, vividly, in their imaginations, the carnage my words had created. And mortified at the violence moving through me, I wrenched myself awake and lay on my bed, breathing in the darkness.
It’s taken me all day to look at this dream. I was first simply grateful for the young people who left, who had the good sense to get out of that room before the story turned ugly. Thank God for their boredom. Were these dream figures parts of myself I was protecting? Perhaps…
But the truth is, this is what we do, over and over again, we human beings– we kill God.
We kill God crucifying Jesus of Nazareth, and we kill God burning St. Joan at the stake, and we kill God gunning down Martin Luther King Jr. and Gandhi.
But that is nothing. That is only the surface. That is only the obvious. These tortures and assassinations are the large and dramatic murders. These are the public offerings, the end result of many many more tiny kills. For we murder the joy and sensitivity in our own hearts, and we murder the talents with which we were born, and we murder the tenderness which sprouts like new shoots between us. These are the real murders, the murders which lead to more and more layers of deadness. These are the kills which we pass on for generations, from mother to daughter, and father to son, and mother to son and father to daughter, over and over and over again.
All because we judge Life and decide what it is instead of forgiving it and allowing it to amaze us.
And so, my young girl was sacrificed at the hands of the Christians in her own name. Sacrificed in her own name. And isn’t that, after all, how so many of us dispose of ourselves, cutting away piece after piece of ourselves in a desperate attempt to make ourselves worthy, to make ourselves Holy enough…