One Reader's Response to Day of Election

Reader: Oh John. for two days I've tried to find the words to express the "experience" I walked through reading your story. I pointed to numerous phrases and well crafted words, but in the end they were your words, not mine. Even so, I know it was your intention to live the story, not just read it, and you warned me (the reader) that to proceed would make it so. All I know is that like all inspired words, yours has several layers with deeper and deeper meanings, and that compels me to read the series again and again to gain them. As for this first time reading, I was left with an ineffable comfort that so much more is going on in our universal experience than our small minds can comprehend--and yet our smallness is legitimate too. Giving myself the gift of morning reading and contemplation was especially meaningful to me having lost my sister recently. But as I say, I can barely literate why. Then again, there is no need. Thank you with all my heart for bringing to the page your heart and soul.

Me: When I write at this level, I know that only a handful of people will read it, and even within that small group there is the hope that someone will experience it like you have. Maybe someone else out there has had a similar experience but you have articulated what I hoped might happen with its readers. I am so grateful, one, that you let it in so deeply and have recognized that a single reading is just to give it a tap; and second, that you have put words to the possibilities for an ever deepening experience of one’s self as reality while reading it. Your comment that “our smallness is legitimate too” is an extremely important recognition, considering that personal pain is always challenging one’s grander viewpoints for hegemony in assessing the value of life. Nevertheless, there are moments I have while looking out the window or tying my shoe or watching a movie when I recognize that without these personal incarnations, none of these realizations would be possible. These small lives are real living, which we can fully experience when we expand out into the cosmos and contract into the inner folds of being. You and I, my friend, are doing both big time. Doesn’t that feel wonderful! See you in four days for more real living as Avatar Wizards. Sorry to hear about the Ginger Palace.

Do It For Me!

It’s me again. I hope I am not coming to you too much, me being a cat, but being with you always feels so good, and you know I can’t be without you now that I know you are there. When I close my eyes, I can feel only you. When my eyes are open, I feel the world and the world hurts so much. So why should I want to open my eyes? I open my eyes because my human parents love me very much and take care of me and it makes me happy to be their pet. I can feel their pain, but their love is strong, and I know I am helping them. We have such a nice house, our house, where we play and cuddle (I am a lap kitty), and I love the neighborhood where I can explore. They keep me in at night to protect me from night time dangers. I trust them in everything even when they don’t give me food every time I ask for it.

At first when I felt you, I thought you were just an empty space, nothing. But now I know better. You are everything and even though I am just a cat, I know that you love me and hear all of my prayers. Today I feel so much pain so I am praying extra hard, as hard as a cat can. The world is coming apart. I hear war cries in crazy thoughts, and their minds are coming apart. I pray for them today. It hurts too much to listen to the words and feel the anger and fear, but it won’t stop.

I don’t understand and it’s not fair. I know I am selfish and being selfish is not a good thing, even though I’m allowed as a cat, but I want my chance to be a human being. That’s all I want, just a chance. The way it’s going right now, there seems to be little hope that I will ever have one of those wonderful bodies, eat delicious human foods, and get to know so many different kinds of people. I will never have a chance to fly in a plane or talk on a telephone, go to school, or watch movies, or travel around the world, or go into space, or swim in the ocean, or most important, love the way human beings can love. So, please help me understand. Why do they hate each other so much? Don’t they know about you? Don’t they know that the sky really is infinite, and that their hearts have oceans of love in them? Why don’t they know?

So, God, this is all I want to say. I want my chance. I don’t want to see that chance end tomorrow. I want to be happy with my parents in this life and live many more lifetimes until I get to be a human being. Please save them. Save them for themselves and save them for me. I count. I know I count and I know you hear me when I cry like this. Whatever it will take, God! You need to move now! There’s not much time left! Do it for me, please God, do it for me!

Part Seven (the last): Love's Dark Chalice Spills at Midnight

Come, mother, stand beside me. Father has taken his position on the Hill of Resurrection and calls upon the magisterial beings of the cosmos to attend the arrival of the Golden Flower. Night is swiftly falling and you have a choice to make, a choice that will define you for eternity and open up new doorways for beings yet unknown to extend the exploration of existence into realms impossible for mortal minds to imagine. Existence itself surveys the land upon which we stand. You are the mother itself, your existence as mother, and there the father, who watches us with his deepest awareness, performs his functions as time master with increasing uncertainty that what he is doing carries the same meaning as it has done on election days past. In that awareness he has garnered a new truth, and as he draws in the star beings to bear witness to our glory as a people and as he draws in the consciousness of all citizens of the land as holders of the flame of living truth, and as the fringes of his being reach out to the whole world to receive the Golden Flower, he is experiencing a dread that shatters the most basic boundaries of his existence, self, love, and the sacredness of living. This is as it should be. For I am here.

How can you, dearest son and now cold harbinger of an uncertain future, so surely abandon what you have always known as life and love, in favor of something which surely does not manifest itself nobly in you, despite a bottomless beauty which appears to be the root of your form and which threatens to distract me from the matter at hand, for if the purpose of this moment is to recommend something that cannot be understood, who would not choose death over the frightening deep darkness in your eyes? You ask me to choose between standing here with you fearless and unmoving as the Golden Flower emerges out of the galactic mind, or rejoining your father and my most beloved husband, whom you have loved and honored for hundreds of years and sung his praises throughout the land and whom you have begged to follow into deep meditation. So, I ask you, beloved son and mysterious interrupter of all our lives and hopes, what you are offering me as a basis of choosing, since choosing appears to have lost all relevance in your existence.

Choosing is relevant, my beloved mother, but only in the most undefined creases between this angle of existence and another.

Son, please do not talk to me of creases of existence when my heart is breaking for loss of a son and the fear and confusion that is crawling across my husband’s face as you speak to me in this way. Give me something to choose between, my son, something more than this plane of existence or that! Would you abandon all hearts that love? I don’t know who or what you are, but I know my husband. In this moment there is no choice to make.

What is it you wish to hear, mother? Something about the Supreme Self, the goodness of God, the unity of all things, the ascension of the human race, love and truth, happiness and joy, time surfing, the galactic mind? What are these things that you would forego the uplifting of your race into a higher existence. Even the most glorious bounty of living and loving, which you have shared with the world, especially with your son and husband, are specks of eternal scrum now settling into the void without protest from the grand singers of praise of the galactic glory. For they do not know and cannot imagine what this moment has brought them to. Do you know what is about to happen? Tell me, mother, what do you see? Discover and reveal. If you wish to see the Golden Flower arrive and shed its bounty across the land, reveal who you are now. There are doors to open which only you can see.

Do I not truly see what you are? At last you are as real to me as you are to yourself, and what I know about myself is that here, “I,” is what I stand on. You, my son, are the most wicked wielder of the flameless fire, dragon of the ground, and hopelessness redeemed into the primal impulse of pure existence, which no mortal can weave into personal living. This “I” sees what it sees when I look at you. The ground from which you speak, and from which I now speak, and which my husband struggles right now to know, and which the people of the world have yet to touch or even suspect and can never know as long as they wait on this hillside eyes vacant in blind expectation for the Golden Flower to align them with their future lives, as they have chosen for millennia. The choice available to them has always been much deeper than they consciously know. This is what you mean for me to see.

Today, as has been the case on every Day of Election in New America, they are deciding whether to plunge unconsciously into more centuries of life stories within which to hide themselves from reality, or to awake and directly engage the naked fire of life, the “I” struggling with what to be, the primordial urge that creates, sustains, and destroys universes, to consciously self-exist as the undefined “I” with unsupported certitude that they are real, each individual as a quantum particle of existence choosing absolutely to exist. This is the totality of what I see, my son. Right now, at this moment, the whole human race powered by individual quantum particles of absolute existence is poised to transpose themselves onto the next plane of the quantum cosmos. No, no, this can’t be! I still have tears to shed for all the living and dying that has defined who we are!

You offer this cold, absolute thing that originally is! This “I”, this original thing tucked away in my being, before love, before truth, and beauty, hope, and joy. That’s what you are, my confounding son. How can you bear this? This eternal unsettledness. Which? How can I say? Which direction to take? No, that’s not it. What not to engage? No. What is the original question, my dark son, for I see now that you are truly the offspring of my own doubt and uncertainty. The “what?” in everything, left only with the faith my husband seems to value so much in me. Now I see. Ultimate and absolute. My son, we have been here before. We have always been here, all these realities folded into each other, too deep to manage, too unknown and unsettling to court. But here now as you and me.

Yes, mother, we have been here many times before, poised to make the choice or not. Only you have never had me stand manifest by your side, and for that reason the choice you and the human race have always made has been no. We do not wish to awake, we do not wish to face the unformed “I”, the godhead of existence. I am here to ask you how much more dreaming you think is available to the human race before commanding forces descend upon them? It will take a gesture, a commanding gesture from the race itself, from you, to open the door into the quantum cosmos, an opportunity generated out of the thousands of millions of years of existence in this universe on this planet in the many houses and hearts of inhabitants who come into the world and depart it, over and over again, unready to take the necessary stand of choosing without a known basis, without something that has arisen out of the fabric of the thousands of millions of lives whose choices were always soaked up by future dreams. This is a quantum moment where behind you lies the familiarity of all of creation, and ahead lies the absolute unknown. You are the impossibility of human advancement without me.

Here, mother, the source and redeemer of all uncertainty, thus, the Golden Flower. Take it in your hand. You are the mother of this race and races unseen, the chooser between continuing slumber in the dream realms of planetary life and sudden awakening into the quantum cosmos, and there is your husband, who has just now grasped the significance of the moment and is remembering the many times he has faced this dilemma before and has failed to carry the Golden Flower into the unknown, who has instead always fabricated as time master more beautiful dreams for more living and dying. But this time is different, my mother. He sees it. He sees that you are the bearer of the Golden Flower, that it does not arise from the galactic being of his dream making, and that standing next to you is the heart of the unknown, the unbearable made bearable, the heart’s dark blood spilled at midnight and redeemed through the impossible, all-beautiful form of the unreferencable walking at your side and gesturing you forward.

A heaviness descends. I am tired.

I have spun this world out of the immortal fire of my being,

while distant stars and unknown dreams coldly turn around it.

Poised now within the fire of one mighty question after another,

I set my intent. There is no turning back.

As my “I” closes, silence rises in waves of bliss,

and I am no more than drops of water on a lover’s face

waiting to be kissed.

Love’s Last Illusion

Living Love and Tenderness

Part Six: The Heart of the Unknown

Oh, Ro-magi-san, I have failed. I already feel my soul falling down bottomless caverns of darkness and despair. I have failed my father and my mother, the great father beyond, and you, the richest and surest being my heart has ever known. Bring forth oblivion for I am ready. I have nothing more to say. There is nothing more to know. Please spare my dearest and most beloved mother and father the horror of what has passed and grant them a sweet dream about my passage into some newly discovered celestial world which has claimed me as the most bountiful offspring our world has created. Do this for me, please, Ro-magi-san! I feel my light dimming, and there is much more joy for this day to be lived in our land. I am ready. I accept. May all be free from who I am!

Can you be so sure that you have failed, my young traveler? To what domain have you traveled? And where are you now? How do you measure the time of your place and the place of your time? You are feeling the shining ghost of the personal self that still exists inside of you and will never cease to exist. You are its mystery just as it is your mystery to behold. The heart of the unknown is a mystery as well as self-reflecting mirrors of being. You are bold to ask that I lie for you, that I protect your ignorance with a false flower which your mother and father would see through instantly. For they are not standing next to you in this room, the Hall of the Whispering Pines. They exist eternally in your heart on this plane of existence, while you, the most of you that is, exist in many different domains of the undiscovered universe, unclaimed by love, wisdom and the knowledge of how infinite being moves eternally through halls and corridors of its own creation. You have claimed a piece of your truth, but you will die with that truth unrevealed should you not perform the task that is still yours to perform.

Of what use is such a mystery, Ro-magi-san? I am still and unmoving. I do not touch, nor am I touched. I neither live nor die. I neither love nor suffer. Of what use is such a mystery? Where does it go? What you have told me means nothing.

It goes to where you stand. Are you asking these questions out of despair, out of hope, out of an aspiration to arise and know?

None of those things. I only exist with this.

And is that who you choose to be?

What is choosing?

Existence has chosen itself through you. You affirm merely in the bareness of your asking. You are one conscious affirmation for existence. Without your affirmation, all of this would cease to exist.

And now, young traveler, the Tree of Life for New America on this Day of Election is complete with your return. All the other initiates have returned as well, each chastened in his or her own way about the self-limiting judgments they carried with them on their travels. We are here to celebrate this day of renewal and reaffirmation that life will continue, that the cosmos is a grand and glorious place for eternal discovery, hope, and play. Now all of you, young and most beloved initiates, I leave you to your parents, to your friends and community, and to your land. I will return this evening for the arrival of the Golden Flower. Until then know that love is the way.

Oh, mother and father, I am humbly and gratefully your son. There is no simpler truth for this moment. Beyond this acknowledgement, however, I know nothing. My heart bows its head in your presence, for all that I know I offer back to you, most pitiful as it is. How can it be that you have held me so long in your hearts? How long have you tolerated my foolishness and ignorance? Why have you kept me enthralled with life, singing with the birds, playing with my friends, celebrating birth and death and aspiring beyond into places and worlds unknown when I am so humbly nothing, so wretchedly presumptuous that my life has meaning and purpose beyond what we say and do at this moment. Forgive me, dearest and most beloved parents, for I am nothing but what I say now, and there is nothing more your son can say.

You are a glorious phantasm of my being, most beloved son. You cast aside the mystery of my love for you because you are experiencing the first flush of the undefined source of everything. I am your father, and if you wish to cry over that in shame, I will leave you to it. When you are ready to move back into the land of your living and dying, I will be waiting. My father prepared me well for my initiation into the caverns of personal confusion, and I came back properly chastened, but in your eyes now I still see the void peering back. You must grab it by the throat, my son, before it devours you and your mother dies in undeserved agony. I will be in the fields helping our people prepare for the Golden Flower. If you cherish the sanctity of your mother’s heart, you will find a way to come. If you seek to come tonight as you are now, the ring-pass-not-will come and devour you, and I will not stand in the way.

What do you feel, my son, as your father departs? No greater man has ever walked this land. Without him New America would have ceased to exist and the great lands of our world would never have survived their dark traverse through time. For all of that, you risk crushing him as the father of your being, as father of the land, the world, and the deepest love of my heart, which surrenders to him every moment of my existence. What have you to claim, my son, that would destroy all of that?

What is there to choose from, my mother? Who is the chooser?

Love, my son, and only you can choose.

You are right, my beloved mother, in all things but this. I do not ask your love or approval. I stand where I am and know that through which I exist. I will take my stand with the Ro-magi-san tonight without fear, and if you will stand with me fearless as well, we will bring honor to the man we love and revere. As you must know, every Day of Election brings a new uncertainty to master. On this Day, I am that uncertainty, for I am not bound by the instruments of order that pervade the land; nor do I live through the expectations of others, regardless of how grand the design of their living or the magnificence of their hearts. I am the heart of the unknown, and I now walk among you. You would be right to fear me, for I have no promises to keep, and the stars themselves will rock in recognition of the fathomless depths of my being. Let us prepare, mother. The grand artificer of everything is coming tonight in the shape of a golden flower.  [end Part 6]

Part Five: Grief Resurrected in the Heart of "I"

Dear and glorious man, whose heart I have discovered buried in the fabric of your pain, lost in the surging waves of “I exist!”, crying out to the infinite for the justification of death, not just for the death of your beloved pet but for the deaths of all beloveds throughout the cosmos. You question God like a brazen child who demands answers where no answers are to be found, and yet you carry something in your heart which I cannot fathom because you are the truth of something only you in the universe seem privy to know. Why do you exist, my eternal friend? Do you know? No, you don’t know, and nor can I grasp what I see in you. In your light I feel unborn, not yet initiated into worlds where mysteries tumble out of our souls’ delight and galaxies emerge out of the original cry to exist.

What are you, my friend, and why have I been sent to you for my learning, you who live in the ancient times of raw life, of burning dirt, of consciousness so dim that the sun scarcely notices you crawling in the shadows. Bring your heart to me, for I have fathomed many things far into your future and bring much hope to your people. I have come here because you have refused to rise to the plane of perfected being. You have refused perfection in order to feel the dying gasps of your beloved daily in your heart, to know absolutely that you loved beyond the bounds of life and evolution and the deity of your mind and heart, and now here we are, I, the a youth of the New American continent, hundreds of years old, full friend and confidant of a grand solar lord in our swirl in the galaxy, facing you, ancient and beast-like in the crawl of your mortal existence through primeval time, wounded and bleeding more with every cry of injustice, risking the growl of the dragon surging out of the ground of all existence, risking the rupture of your heart, all for one beast, one unlighted being, dead forever and forgotten by all in the universe but you, rotted back into the soil of pre-existence. Dead. Forever dead.

What secret do you hold, my beloved friend, devotee of the infinite joy of living and questioner of infinite mysteries rolling at your feet, gift to the ancient ones who scour the galaxy looking for crazy lovers of the void, of the hope that never dies because it is never fulfilled, and please, stand with me and show me this mystery for I fear I will die with you should I not return to my time made whole and true by the love bursting so mightily from your heart. Oh most beloved man, holiest of the holy seekers of God, why do you not share your heart? Why cannot you speak of what you know? Is that not your charge? To live, to love, to discover, and to reveal? I must cry out in protest! Why do you not answer my cry? Why do you risk oblivion in the face of the grandest path of hope and freedom, which our fathers have given to us to travel in this exultant galaxy, filled with light and staggering beauty and adventures beyond imagining by any beings of mortal form?

How dare you come bursting into my heart, probing the most intimate caverns of my existence! Who are you? Time traveler from some august dimension? Future evolutionary stalwart come back to us ants crawling in the mire of our pain? You think you know something? You think you are so advanced in love and hope and truth and the glory of existence! No, my friend, if such you be, you know nothing. You will never know what my life has been, nor will you ever know what humanity has endured so that you can play with flowers and dance in the streets and proclaim yourselves sons and daughters of some mighty being. You have nothing on me, and your life is so trivial, I eschew the brightest lights of your hope for something you can never in all eternity grasp because you are not me! And never will be me! And if you think you know how to love, what it is like to be crushed by the mighty hand that created the hard rocks of existence and then feel that hand destroy the most tender and sublime impulses of my being, who has left me ravaged beneath all the stars and roaring suns, who came to me, who loved me down to the root of my being and then suddenly and violently tore my heart into screaming shreds of dust and then cast them into the infinite sea to be forever nothing! Tell me! Tell me that you know what this is! And if you cannot say that you know, then be gone! Forever gone!

Go tell your mighty lords, you with empty hearts, who are nothing but lowly scavengers of others’ secrets, that they will never know, that they do not deserve to know what that is, or who I am, and if they will judge me, then they are not nearly as far beyond in years and lives to claim a sure place in this universe to stand. The secret of my existence is mine and mine alone. Where I stand there are no gods, no sentinels of truth, no streams of compassion or hope, no dreams of eternal bounty, or galactic evolution, no words to act as ripples of silence, and no couriers to carry the message of my existence back to a curious crowd of death hunters. Be gone, my friend! Return to your freedom and joy, for my mystery is mine, it is where I stand, and it is where I most truly exist.

                                                                                          [end of Part 5]

Part Four: Ro-magi-san

It is time, dear reader, you who have been taking this journey into the deepest mysteries of existence, to assess who and where you are at this point in your passage, for you are now ready to meet the Ro-magi-san. He has a message, a reminder that ultimate things are always at play inside of us, that we are all in danger of loosing track of the deepest currents of existence upon which the coming and going of worlds as well as individual lives forever ride. it is time to pause for a moment, feel the breath, notice the thoughts, look outside the window, and know each of those gestures as expressions of the one real being awake and active in you and me and in the world we so dearly love. Pause for a moment of acceptance and affirmation before proceeding, for what follows in the remaining four parts is wrapped only in the thinnest of veils of intellect and is not to be mentally wrestled with. It will stir what is yours to be stirred or shadow over what is not yet ready to be revealed. Have you decided yet whether this is real or no?

Part 4: Ro-magi-san

Come, my young traveler, of the infinite glory of being you must now be told. I have a secret for you, which you must not share with anyone in all existence, no matter in what form you may be living or whom you may be loving. There is no darker failure than to forsake this charge or become lost in the small details of the form-bound lives you will wrap yourself in in order to fulfill this purpose. For should you do so, surely you would die the deep death, the worst fate of any being divinely awakened through the long path of mortal evolution.

Today you will choose your path through the cosmos, the one which suites your deepest, but as yet unrevealed nature, which you will discover in the next few moments. From here the road forks, my young traveler. There is no turning back once you know. You will emerge from this day either as a Supreme Self ready to extend its life through the vast domains of the created cosmos, taking unlimited planetary and solar sojourns as a self-created being. In this manner, you will build a unique identity which you will ultimately offer to the Galactic Self at the moment of its transposition into the unknown. Your ultimate fate along this path will be to expire the purest death in service to the primordial pulse of pure existence, which is the realest of real events. At this juncture you will cease to exist. This is the path most traveled, my young traveler, the path of sacrifice and conclusion. This much I can tell you here, but you will not know this deepest secret in others. Inside we are each the deepest of the deepest, but the gift of the cosmos is that we each have a piece of the mystery that is ours to own. Including me.

The other path is steeper and darker. On this path there is neither name nor identity. You will embrace your inner most secret existence and transpose it directly into the unknown, take up explorations of existence itself as the real, that which has dimensions unfathomable to beings who evolve solely through the created conditions of their living. Today you stand at the crease in reality. Not even I know who you are or what you will discover. I am the place of no confusion addressing you directly, the junction point for you and all created beings, who exist in the unfathomable folds of the mystery itself, which breathes its existence into all things, created and uncreated.

For this passage, my dear friend and traveler, you who have emerged out of the darkness to be with me in this moment of ultimate intimacy, you will have all that your parents have given to you to keep you brave. Their lives are now fulfilled in you, and the bounty of their success will bring them into the beyond in the direction they chose on their Day of Election. Do you understand and are you ready to assent to receiving the secret of your existence and all the risks knowing this secret entails?

Yes, I am, Ro-magi-san.

Yes, you are, young traveler. Your heart is strong and pure as it must be for the knowing of what I am about to impart. There is a young man in the past of your land who suffers grievously for the loss of his beloved pet. In all the land and in all the heavenly realms of hope and peace, nothing has been able to part him from this grief. It is your task today to take your heart deep into his and discover the mystery of his love, why he has forsaken the love and compassion of angelic hosts from the highest heavens of these earthly planes, and why his dialogue with God has gone silent on this matter. Will you do that, my young traveler? Will you take the risk of failure under the skies of infinite possibilities? Will you risk crashing into the plain of impossible pain to discover the secret of his resurrection? And will you come back to me with what you have learned? Yes? Your silence is your truth. Go now. The Timesurfer is here to take you wherever you need to go and bring you back here instantly into the Hall of the Whispering Pines once you know the secret you are seeking. From there the skies are empty.         [end of Part 4]

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]

Part Two: The Most Tender Veils of Love

And now, my beloved wife, we must prepare for this day. Our joy at receiving each other again beneath the skies of new hope and bounty must spread throughout the land, New America, and we must prepare the people for new knowledge and wisdom with which to receive the vision that will be revealed to us tonight. We will see what we have chosen in the lives which we have led since the last Day of Election, the one which brought you and me together to such unfathomable depths of life and love. Through each other, we know that we exist through and through and that there need be no convincing from others’ lives or from our own experiences in order to be grounded in this one absolute truth. I exist. You exist. We exist together and this living love of you and me standing in this room flowing steadily through the timewaves of this day, warmed by the fire of life, anticipating ever more revelation, this is the flowering of all that is. One more flowering tonight, my love, one more celebration of our existence.

Dearest husband, you have barely begun to tell me of your journey, the journey from which you have just returned, the grandest happening of your existence and mine and our son’s, which I can feel in my heart as you become more present in our world and home. Please share with me the joy of your discoveries, the new depths of being that are flowing out of you in grander waves of new becoming. You are more than who you were in the earlier days of our lives. Tell me more before my heart bursts in anticipation.

Oh my darling, truest love of my life, undying spirit of the goodness of everything, you are the faith that defies the uncertainty within all things that exist, you are the acceptance of all tears in their readiness to flow, you are the mystery of my existence, and you are the love that gives the world its light, the love without which spirit could not accept its own existence. I sense the uncertainty rise in you because you already feel the urge to become more than what we can be in our present way of living. Our son will experience more and rise higher than we will in these mortal forms, for after today those forms, our bodies and minds, will be fully realized as transitory, heralding new beginnings and new modes of being that will arise from the hidden fire of the sacred imagination, forms which we will need to master before the next Day of Election emerges out of the ground of our being.

Come, my beloved husband, source and wellspring of my life and our life together, and of the life of our son. I feel the urgency within you and wish to love you ever more deeply so that the land we stand on and which spreads out into the world where our son and his friends play and where our friends and neighbors search each others’ hearts for new acceptance and harmony and await the day’s deepest mysteries, I tell you, most beloved husband, that I must love you for all of that and more beyond what I can say and feel, for in the deepest realms of my heart, I feel new things, strange things that do not inform me more of who we are in this world or what this world is, and I confess that there is some fear in my heart that is settling like a mist beneath the most tender veils of my love for you. Hold me, most beloved husband. Hold me dear and true. 

Think of our son and his joy, of the land of our fathers and mothers and other election days, and reassure me that peace and joy will be with us throughout all our transformations, and that in the unfolding grandeur of new dimensions of living, our lives together will not be lost in time or the star-blanched skies of new worlds, that the here and now, our love and our existence together will be eternally true and real and that the creation of our son and our love for him will be known in all the worlds to come, tell me, oh love of my heart and soul, tell me for now and forever that all will be well, that our love will endure and that the great godbeing beyond, father and progenitor of us all, absolute spirit and living love within all things, knows us and loves us to the deepest cores of our being! Hold me forever, my most beloved man, plunge the torch of your existence into my soul, and roar with the dragon until oblivion claims us or leaves us emptied out on the plains of universes yet to be born.

Come, my beloved wife, heart and soul, deepest and most abiding dream lover in the cosmic life, sweetest and most heavenly secret in all existence, the dream come true in every lover’s heart, enfold with me again, petal to petal, bud to stem, stem to root, and root to ground into the all-one, the most perfect unknowable non-existence before it cries out the original “I exist!”    [end of part 2]