THE GODDESS RETURNS - The SAGA OF AMBERLIN Continues. In this
next year it is my intention to complete my next 'visionary
novel,' the story of Amberlin, the first 'fully enlightened
being' who comes to Earth in a female's body.
I invite your participation by reading the saga of Amberlin as
it's being written and offering constructive questions and
comments. Here's the beginning of Chapter 2 of The Goddess
Returns:
Chapter 2
"Top bunk or bottom bunk tonight?" Jonathan asked as he entered
Amberlin's room, even though he knew the answer.
"Bottom, please. The top is too high," Amberlin replied. As he
lowered her into bed, she asked, "Will you tell me a story, Papa
Jon? One of your real ones?"
He sat on the bed next to her and chuckled. How she loved his
stories, especially the "real" ones about his life growing up
that had at least a thread of truth in them. He paused for a
moment, trying to think of one he hadn't told her recently.
"How about the time I met a real spiritual sage?"
"Sure," Amberlin replied, then, "What's a spirit sage?"
"Spiritual sage," Jonathan corrected her. "That's someone who
has devoted their life to seeking a closer relationship with
God, and who often shares their spiritual journey with others."
"What was the spiritual sage's name?" Amberlin asked as she
snuggled down in her bed, preparing for the story.
"His name was Mo Zoloff, and I met him not too far from here, in
a retreat center outside of Black Mountain."
"I know where that is kinda'," Amberlin said.
"Yes, well, it's only about an hour or so drive from here, but
when I first went there I was staying even closer at my family's
summer cabin, just outside of Black Mountain. It was the summer
after I graduated from high school. I wasn't really a freelance
writer yet, but I sure thought I was, or at least I knew that's
what I wanted to be."
"How did you meet Mo?" Amberlin asked.
"Well, like I said, I heard him speak at this retreat center. I
remember it like it was yesterday, even though it was, well
let's see, close to 30 years ago."
"That's a long time, Papa Jon."
"Not really, sweetheart. It's really just a blinking of God's
eye," Jonathan replied. Closing his own eyes, he could picture
the rustic, assembly hall filled with people, awaiting the start
of Master Mo's talk.
I sat about two-thirds of the way from the front. I could have
sat closer but I felt out of my element. This was my first time
to be in the presence of an actual guru from India, least that
what I thought Master Mo was at the time. You can imagine my
surprise when a white man in his mid- to late-30s wearing a
white t-shirt and black, baggie pants strolled on stage. There
was a sturdy table sitting in the middle of the stage. He
stepped out of his sandals and climbed onto the table, where he
sat cross-legged facing the audience. The room was already about
three-fourths full, but Mo continued to sit there with his eyes
closed, meditating, I guess.
As the room filled, he continued to sit quietly, apparently lost
in his own reflection. The minutes dragged by. I began to fidget
in my chair, as did a number of other people, then we would all
grow quiet again in anticipation of Master Mo's talk.
Finally, the figure in the center of the stage opened his eyes,
and gazed around for a moment, a smile growing on his face,
before he finally broke the silence. "I'm thrilled to see so
many people gather here for a 2-hour silent meditation." There
was a moment of surprised silence as everyone glanced at each
other before realizing it was a joke, then the whole audience
burst out laughing as Master Mo joined them. As the laughter
finally died down, he spoke again. "And so we begin."
And so we did, and for the next hour I sat mesmerized by the
quiet man with the deeply moving and inspiring message. He
challenged the audience to look within themselves for their own
spark of divinity. He accused our Western culture of looking too
much to the East - to places like India and Tibet ¬ for our
spiritual sages. He suggested that is was time for us in the
Western hemisphere to create our own spiritual leaders, and he
even went so far as to suggest that there could be a spiritual
sage sitting right there in our own seat.
I was so moved by his message that by the end of the talk, I
ignored my customary shyness and approached him on the stage,
along with a number of other people enthusiastic about what
they'd heard. When it came my turn, I handed Mo my business
card. I'd had them printed the week before with my name and
phone number on them, and under my name the bold declaration,
"Writer."
"I'd like to help you share your message with more people," I
stammered. Mo smiled knowingly, nodding his head. "Come see me
tomorrow - noon time. Don't be late."
I nodded in return. I wasn't sure how I was going to get myself
back the next day but I knew I would, and I did. In fact, I was
back at the retreat center before 11 o'clock, which was a good
thing, because I had failed to ask Mo where we would meet. It
took me close to an hour to find out where he was staying. He
had one of the dorm rooms just like everyone else, although he
wasn't sharing it with anyone, like most of the retreat
participants were.
I knocked lightly on the door, wondering what in the world I was
doing there, but then I heard Mo's calm, soothing voice telling
me to enter, so taking a deep breath and squaring my shoulders
like my father had taught me, I turned the handle and walked in.
Mo was sitting at one of the desks scribbling in a notebook.
Hearing me enter, he looked up from his work and smiled warmly.
"Ahh, my young writer friend who is going to make me famous by
sharing my message with the rest of the world. Come in my
friend. Make yourself comfortable," he said, pointing to a
nearby chair.
As I sat down, I gazed around and realized that the only light
in the room, other than that filtering in from the window, came
from a dozen or so candles distributed throughout the room.
"I was just capturing some thoughts from my meditation," Mo
explained, noticing my puzzled look. "We can turn on some lights
if you prefer."
"No, this is fine," I replied, trying to hide my nervousness. "I
appreciate your taking time to see me."
"Oh, it is my pleasure. I am intrigued to meet such a young
writer, especially one with such an aura of destiny and
premonition surrounding him." As he said this, Mo stood up from
the desk and walked over to the nearby bed where he sat
cross-legged.
"First, let's address the reason you thought you were coming to
see me, your interest in writing about me. When I return to my
ashram, I will have someone send you background information
about my work and me. Upon reviewing it, if you need additional
information including an interview, I'll be only too happy to
oblige. Will that work for you?"
"Yeah, sure," I replied. "That would be great." Then mustering
up my courage, I continued, "What did you mean, the reason I
thought I was coming here? For what reason am I really here?"
Mo only smiled at first, nodding his head. "Why, so I could
confirm for myself that what I was picking up from you was
indeed true, and if true, so I could share it with you."
"And what did you see?"
"Your manifest destiny," Mo replied.
"My what?"
"Your manifest destiny," Mo repeated. "You can think of it as
fate - a future event or events that are inevitable. Of course,
that might be a bit overstated. We do continue to exercise free
choice, so nothing is completely inevitable, although yours
might be as close to inevitable as I've ever seen."
I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention
as Mo spoke. I wasn't too sure I wanted to know my manifest
destiny, but then again, how could I refuse. After all, at 17
years of age I could use as much help with my future as the next
recently graduated high school student. "Pull your chair over
next to the bed. Don't worry. I won't bite. I just need to make
a stronger connection."
I did as Mo instructed. Funny, looking back on it now, I
probably should have been more concerned about what this strange
little man might do to me, but for some reason I wasn't at all.
I was mostly concerned that he might tell me that my "manifest
destiny" was to be a bum, or to fail at everything I tried.
I sat there in my chair, just a foot or two from where Mo sat on
the bed. He instructed me to close my eyes and to take several
deep breaths. Around the third or fourth breath, I felt a light
pressure on either side of my forehead and realized it was Mo's
hands lightly touching me. They stayed there, just barely
perceptible. I started to open my eyes, then thought better of
it.
After what felt like a minute or two, I heard a voice. It didn't
sound like Mo but it must have been since there wasn't anyone
else in the room. The voice was about an octave lower than Mo's
and with a strong, foreign accent that I hadn't heard before or
since.
"What did he say, Papa Jon?" Amberlin's sleepy voice brought
Jonathan back to the present, but he continued in silence for a
moment before answering.
"Well, sweetie, he told me I was destined to be a protector and
preparer - someone who would prepare the way. That's what he
said."
"A protector and preparer for what?"
"He didn't exactly say, but he did tell me I would know at the
right time," Jonathan replied, grasping Amberlin's hand that had
snuck out from the cover and squeezing it gently.
"And did you?"
Jonathan pondered the question for a moment before replying. "I
guess I can best answer that question this way. I believe God
sometimes gives us a second chance to fulfill our destiny, and I
certainly feel like he's given me a second chance to fulfill
mine."
He paused again, unsure whether to continue, then added. "I feel
like you're my second chance. I'm here to protect you and to
prepare you so you can fulfill your own destiny."
He wasn't sure whether Amberlin had heard this last comment. Her
eyes were now closed and her breathing had become slow and
shallow, but as he turned to cut off the light next to her bed,
he heard her whisper, "Papa Jon's my protector and provider,"
and she sighed as she turned on her side and snuggled deeper
under the covers.
Jonathan leaned over and kissed her temple. "That's right,
sweetheart. As long as there's breath left in this body, I'll
always be here for you. I won't make the same mistake twice." He
straightened the covers, then turned and tiptoed from the room,
but as he returned to his bedroom, he remembered leaving Mo's
room over 30 years ago.
His hand had been on the door when the question suddenly
occurred to him. "Master Mo, could I ask you one last question?"
"What is it, son?"
"Well, it seems to me that, often times, spiritual matters come
in three's, you know, like the Holy Trinity. I was just
wondering if there's a third word to go along with protect and
prepare?"
Mo considered the question then smiled. "Yes, you could say
there is. It's purpose. The one you will protect and prepare
will bring purpose to the world. Go in peace, Jonathan."
As Jonathan reached Rose and his bedroom, he braced himself for
what he might face on the other side, but as he entered the room
he breathed a sigh of relief. Rose was already in bed and
apparently asleep. He quietly changed into his pajamas, then
walked over to Rose¹s side of the bed to kiss her goodnight. As
he bent over her, he paused and gazed as her face, oh so
familiar, after close to 30 years of marriage. He realized now
that when he had taken the vow to prepare and protect Amberlin,
that it included protecting her from his own wife, and from the
whole community where they lived and that Rose was such an
integral part of. The task that lay before him loomed much
larger than he had, at first imagined -- much larger and much
more important too.
©2005 Brad Swift of Life On Purpose Institute, Inc. This article
can be reprinted freely online, as long as the entire article
and this resource box are included.
Category : Networking
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