Part Three: In the Hall of the Whispering Pines

The children are merry, my beloved husband, and there our son sings with the boys and girls of our friends. The day has unfolded splendidly. The birds have crowded the sky with their singing and dance. Such joy they bring us as the sun competes with them for the brilliance of living on our planet in our land. But now, my dearest one, we must pull back another veil around the mystery of this Day of Election and bring every one into the Hall of the Whispering Pines, where we will meet with all of our beloved New America friends across the land and share with each other our joys of existence and heal the sorrows of those who have plunged deeply into their hearts for unbounded love and found unboundedness too bottomless to share.

Just so have you thought, my beloved wife, and here they come. There is our beloved son, our hearts’ creation, and his beloved friends, David and Samantha, and all of the young people of our neighborhood.

Yes, tall and glorious man, proud father of both ancient and newborn hearts, and here come our friends, veterans of many election days, stalwarts like us of the New America, risen from the misty past of unlighted lives, of toil unknown and unknowable to our sublime beings, haloed as we are by a penumbra of gratitude for the lives they led, the loves they created, which made possible the grandeurs of our human living, loving, and yes, when the time comes, our dying, for who can deny that the greatest gift of the universe is the sudden, conscious, and unexpected departure of the mysterious, eternal, and unquenchable life-substance into the unknown with a final roaring out of the glory of one’s existence. They showed us the way and lay down their lives. We will never know what they thought or felt. We can only accept the expanded waves of time arising out of the shrouded past to be the heritage of who they were.

Only through your heart, my most beloved wife, the most beautiful woman a soul can love, can we feel these things. We are creatures of the universe, spread through multiple arenas of time and its ever unfolding majesty. Their lives must have felt like flattened hopes, crawling across the deserts of dreams too small to give succor to the crushing peaks and valleys of existence and non-existence. Your love, you who are my deepest joy, can only have come from what they endured, and here we are today to honor what they lived and died for with the spreading of our hearts across our land, New America, healing the sick, singing out hope to the confused, and opening the doors for the final glory tonight under stars stirred to unparalleled brightness for the arrival of the golden flower. This is what we do with who we are, my love. We awaken the land to the grandest bounty available to our mortal forms, and sing out our hopes for future lives and worlds to continue the infinite glory of life eternal.

The Ro-magi-san has arrived, my love. We must bring our children and friends into the hall. The New America Tree of Life is beginning to form.

Mother, father, most glorious progenitors of my love and life, I feel so much love for you, I do not know how I will survive the day. Already I have shed so many old thoughts and feelings, I am about to float away into the beautiful blue sky.

Not before I, the father of your mind, heart and body, bring you, my magical son, before  the Ro-magi-san, to see the New America Tree of Life and meet the world anew as a fully vested citizen of this land, as one who has fathomed the depths of one’s home on Election Day and envisioned the greater unfoldment of the New American people and their purpose. To shed your vital form before knowing these things would bring many tears to your beloved mother and me, who have dreamed every day of this moment with you, sharing our love in ever expanding joy at the bounty of creation moving more deeply into the exquisite joys of our personal beings and spreading out into the unbounded cosmos from where the hidden dragon breaths living fire into the New America Tree of Life.

There, my beloved son, feet on the ground. That is the job for me, your devoted mother, always feet on the ground to be solid and true, no flailing about without the bounty of the ground giving you a form with which to love and know truth and express what your unique life has discovered about existence. Every unique being has that charge: live, love, discover, and reveal. Feel the energy moving through you and watch the Tree forming out of the fertile soil of all our imaginations. Is that not beautiful! Is there any song in all creation that can express this beauty? In this Tree of Life, every being in New America is flowing with life. Here is the source of your personal existence wrapped in the body and mind of your day to day living, the breathing and speaking, the eating and sleeping, and all the wondrous things that you call life. Here it all is as one beautiful, bountiful Tree of New America. See it, love it, be it. This new knowledge is our final gift to you. After today you will belong to the deep unknown, beyond which there is nothing more to be.

Most beloved mother, is not my father my father? I feel a new bond to the world, something more than what I have known? Father! My father! Who are you? Mother, is the Ro-magi-san my new father?

No, my beloved son, I am still your father, but we sons of the stars are always on a quest for the original father of all things, which we know exists because we can always feel the original father in our hearts, and feel the desire for him in the hearts of our mothers. The grand beyond can not be pulled whole into our beings because the story of existence is the loss of the father and the discovery of the father in ever grander arenas of existence, made bountiful and fulfilling by the love of a woman, who is the grandest gift the father gives to us. She fuels our desires and soothes our brows when despair rises. You cannot escape, nor can you unwrap the total story of existence, because the entire majesty of existence is that story, his story, which we can never know because outside of the storyteller of the cosmos there is naught. You love me as your creator, and you will love grander beings as your creator and follow that trail on a private and lonely path into unknown dimensions of existence which we all, man and woman, must traverse. This is what you must learn today in the Hall of the Whispering Pines, under the tutelage of the Ro-magi-san, who beckons you now. Go my son.

Mother, must I?

Yes, my beloved son, you are no longer ours. The Ro-magi-san will initiate you into the life of “citizen,” and you must perform a task for him, which he will explain. The Ro-magi-san is a marvelous being who arises every Election Day out of the infinite. He is the universal knower in the form of the people of our land. He knows all that is and isn’t about what we are. His heart is filled with the original joy that is at the root of all creation. Into his mind, he will bring you and all of the young initiates simultaneously, but whatever he whispers into your heart will be for you and you alone.        [end part 3]