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Who’s Hiding Inside?

October 21, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

Who's Hiding Inside

Who’s Hiding Inside

 

Tucked away within a slime covered oyster, one lying in the murky depths of the swirling ocean, lies a pearl of great price. The divers of indigenous peoples take their life in their hands to dive deep to bring to the surface these watery treasures, for sale and display. Likewise it takes a level of  daring for us to enter the murky depths of our inner world to discover what lies beneath. It’s a dive that many of us refuse to take, particularly, may I tentatively suggest, those of us who claim to follow the Nazarene. Within the confines of both conservative and progressive belief systems, inner diving is looked upon with great suspicion. Labelled as a form of  self-absorption, a wasteful narcissism, we’re advised not to dabble our toes in the waters of Self.

For the conservative disciple, Jesus/Yeshua, is all we need. We keep looking outwards at mental projections of his death and resurrection, believing that we’re somehow saved from an eternity outside the reach of God’s love. Of course a measure of inner knowledge is occasionally suggested, but it refers only to the indwelling Spirit that has somehow come to take up residence within the faithful believer. Now where exactly Spirit is believed to have settled isn’t really explained, with both soul (psyche) and spirit (ours) bandied around as religious buzz words without any real explanation. No, the emphasis is primarily one of relating to an external God, One who is somehow out there. Mission, the evangelisation of others, is the overarching goal of the conservative believer, with very little time left for Self exploration and inner knowledge. Brainwashed that such introversion is for the selfish New Age types, the pearl is left to sit within the encrusted shell of ego, our wounded and dare I say it, unhealed psyche-soul.

For the progressive too, the inner search for meaning is also a somewhat Don Quixote waste of time. Rightly believing the  Nazarene to be a revolutionary of the scapegoating social order, the Progressive sets out of a Love mission to show the compassion of God to others. No airy-fairy pie-in-the-sky love for the Progressive, but a practical siding with the victims of society in a sleeves rolled-up kind of way. For the Progressive the Nazarene is to be found in the tear-stained face of others. A vital part of the salvation narrative but not the whole story. For the Progressive the inner world is one of angst and pain, the drivers of their compassion for wounded others. Yet, they too seem reluctant to explore their own inner world, preferring to explore the inner world of others instead. Much less painful and perhaps much more ego boosting. No, the Progressive follower of the Nazarene tends to see the Queendom-Kingdom without, in the mess of the here and now. The realm of Divine Love within is one that is believed but not really sought. More important things to do in our earthed, yet partial take on the Nazarene and his message.

Both religious tribes tend to view each other with deep suspicion while leaving the inner journey thing to the mystics of other traditions. Such inner travellers are viewed as a bit of a waste of space and those to be pitied with their tales of self-knowledge and an inner Presence. Get into that stuff too much and you’ll soon be living  at the top of an Egyptian desert pole or, more likely, taking a much-needed break in a mental health institution.

No, let’s face it. Inner knowledge isn’t top of the Yeshua followers to do list. Best left to the Mind, Body, Spirit brigade and their supposed, uncaring narcissism. And yet, the divine portal, the pearl of the human spirit, still lies deep within, growing and crying out for expression. And expression it will eventually get.

When the masks of ego fall away during the performance we call life, when the slime of our shell-like ego is washed away in the storms that beset us, when something breaks within, opening the clamp-like grip of our psyche-soul to reveal a touch of Source, the divine deposit that makes us who we are. Our authentic self, that part of us untouched by pain and struggle, that centre that flows into the Energy of God.

And the way in?

Silence and reflection as we lie on the Divine Psychiatrist’s couch, willing to meet our shadow Self with all its warts and deep felt pain. A passer-by on our journey Home, one we can’t ignore but need to embrace as we walk towards the Light. Such sessions aren’t the result of strenuous Self-Improvement effort but the co-operation of a psyche-soul that knows the time has come to relinquish control. The day of ego has passed and Divine Love begins to do its healing, yet painful thing.

Is it any wonder that we keep busy with Jesus? Better an outside Saviour than one who walks with us through the valley of psyche-soul, the valley of death into the pastures lands of spirit-Self and Divine Love.

Now where did I put that mask?

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Sorry, do I know you?

October 14, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

Sorry, Do I Know You?

Sorry, Do I Know You?

 

Without doubt life’s a weird dance. A 70+ years’performance with all the intricate twists and turns of inter-personal relationships and attachments. The longer I live the less I seem to know. Yet, maybe that’s the way it was meant to be. At the end of it all maybe we’ll just fall into the compassionate arms of Mystery having done our thing on the dance floor of space-time.

One of the most baffling elements in life is our perception of those close to us. We get to a place where we think we know them, only to be shocked and surprised by some of their newly emerging hidden layers. At times I wonder if we’re just relating to a projection of ourselves – an idealised me, rather than the real other, whoever that may be. I suspect that the majority of our daily interactions operate on this semi-delusional basis. All that we know about the other is the mask which they wear with pride. A camouflaged disguise to throw us off the scent of their inner brokenness and pain. Often, we are merely two masks boosting each others egos, a little mutual appreciation society that gets us both through the day.

Of course we can easily switch masks at the drop of a psycho-spiritual hat. Our numerous little sub-personalities, those that comprise ego, have quite a store of them from which to draw upon. A face for every situation under the sun methinks. Like some frantic trick or treater  we are skilled at flashing up a new face in order to get what we need, viz. a little care and attention to numb our debilitating internal pain. Is it any wonder that relationships come and go, prospering only to eventually hit the rocks of estrangement? Our friend has repeatedly seen all our faces and is growing totally bored with them. Time to move on and admire a new set of masks. “So long! It’s been nice knowing you, or more accurately, not knowing you!”

The dance of the masks has many stages on which to do its thing. Marriage is a classic example of such a performance area. Many marriages break down as the power of the illusion begins to lose its efficacy, finally revealing what the other person was really like all along. Paradoxically, marital mask wearing is a pretty dangerous game, for as it draws us ever closer together, we automatically open ourselves up to the possibility of our mask slipping. Our fantastical romantic projections fall away, leaving us with just another flawed human being, one crying out for authenticity and love. Shocked, some of us miraculously find a new love within, one with which to embrace the other’s now deeply apparent brokenness. Others, exhausted by the endless marrital games of hide and seek, decide enough is another and run for the nearest divorce lawyer. Licking our relational wounds we hide away until another mesmerising mask passes our way, enticing us into a brand new love dance.

Collective mask dances also prove to be potent protectors  in our ego’s defensive armoury. “There’s safety in numbers,” we reason before signing up and joining in. Bumping into numerous others on the dance floor of communal swing, makes us feel much safer for a while. Much social belonging takes this tantalising form. Yet, we interact on the basis of keeping our hidden Self behind a jolly veil of whole-hearted participation. Sadly, a high proportion of our religious involvements within those pietistic families known as church, tend to fall into this category. Churches aren’t really set up for stark realities, for such realities would explode the often superficial group dynamic almost as soon as it was established. No, we all have available to hand a convincing religious self, a devout mask with which to deal with the depth of interaction required in our particular sect of choice. Just turning up with a beatific smile each Sunday is all that’s required for some groups. Others ask a lot more of us, in terms of time, energy and above all cash, along with a zealous believer’s mask, one that reinforces the control of the collective group narrative. Yet, as soon as reality begins to break through an unwelcome chink in a member’s psycho-spiritual armour and their mask falls to the ground, the collective quickly offers them a replacement mask, one to be pitied and prayed for in the continuing religious dance. Of course, the alternative response is a swift expulsion, a communal act of isolation that sends the maskless one out into the desert darkness of unbelief.

So, when we interact with those around us today, let’s see if we can identify our mutual, multifaceted masks. For behind such veneers lie real people, those buried in the pain of ego entanglement. A little act of courage on our part, may see us removing one of our precious masks, thus allowing the other to reciprocate. The first, healing steps toward a genuinely authentic connection. Yet, to achieve such an intimate level of inter-personal knowing first requires our own internal knowing. Only Spirit can draw us into our own persoanl dark room, that Silence where we sit naked and alone with Source. But more of that next week.

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The Search For Wholeness

October 7, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

The Search For Wholeness

The Search For Wholeness

 

After we realise that we are a separate entity of sorts, following the awakening of infancy, we set off on a journey that lasts a lifetime. An inner angst that all is not quite right drives us along a path that searches for wholeness and completeness.

Of course our newly formed ego pulls out many tricks to try to get us there. For a young child popularity seems to be the golden chalice to return us to our original state. Yet this desire to be number one in the eyes of our playground others just initiates us into a path of conflict and competition, one that can last well into later life. No wholeness there then.

In our teenage years the wonders of sexuality and its promise of a deep union with another, preferably an attractive one, beckons. Sex is the new healer we are told by mass media and the advertising industry. Just find the right sexual partner and all will be well – a libido utopia that promises much but ultimately deceives. For in seeking an appropriate partner to complete us we are actually looking for one with the negatives and positives of our early carers, viz. our parents. Behind the hormonal urges we are looking for a replay of our early wounding and affirmation. Hoping to get it right the second time we project and transfer the memories of past events onto the one before us – our better half as we foolishly believe. Of course reality eventually kicks in and we either settle for separate lives, giving up the dream of marital wholeness, or continue on in a numbing illusion to our end of days.

Of course some of us were sold the god of a particular religion as the key to wholeness. If only we believe and receive the divinity of choice with its rules for right living then all would be well. It certainly works for a while, especially in the heady days of our 20s and 30s. Initiated into an instant family of fellow believers we once more set about the reconstruction job of our early family life. Often the leaders of our local religious brand become our parents in our dance of restitution and recovery with god smiling benignly upon our efforts. Eventually though the old sense of being half-filled returns as our projected parents let us down once more, revealing their fragile feet of clay. Indeed they too are searching for wholeness in their role of leading others. But that is a story for another day.

Of course the pharmaceutical industry jumps in to take the edge of our inner angst, this feeling of  being somehow flawed. Antidepressants, whilst initially helpful in treating our dark depressions can never take us to the place that we desire. Every alternative addiction is tried and found wanting. Initially, tobacco, alcohol, recreational drugs, money, career development etc all promise much but with a heavy price. We feel worse and less of a person than when we started.

So this sounds all rather depressing. Well, yes I guess it is, and yet that is our experience for much of our lives. There will be occasional highs of connectedness and well-being but generally we feel like half a person or three-quarters at best. A little hole resides deep within, one that many of us choose to ignore, for heading there only triggers past pain and rejection.

So can we find a level of wholeness. Well, I believe we can, but it takes courage and dare I say it a measure of madness, according to ego that is. For, rather than trying to move people and things into the missing jig-saw space within our sense of Self, we just let go. Finally getting the message that we just are, Something other moves in like a flood to fill our angst strewn caverns. In giving up, we find what we have always searched for, A Source Presence that holds us in the palm of its hands. The bigger picture that we’ve missed in our days of frantic search. In going through the pain of  fragmentation we come out on the Other side, the Reality behind the screen of isolation and despair. The Cosmic parent who has not cracked our sense of Self through rejection and judgement. Our carer par excellence.

The Nazarene knew what lies beyond and lies within. Our wholeness lies in the depths of spirit under the fear-fuelled world of ego and illusory relationships. It is ours to give; a gift to our space-time Self.

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Time To Go Within

September 27, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

Time To Go Within

Time To Go Within

 

What a world we live in. No sooner has the dust settled on some outer conflict than it all breaks out again. It looks like we as a race are addicted to violence and it’s powerful cousin, reciprocal ‘military action’. What  is the answer to our violent rivalries, those erupting from the volcano of mutual desire. I want what you want. I want to be what you are. And on and on it goes until the penny drops. We are wasting out space-time experience. It can be better than it appears all around us and within.

Ego is the scriptwriter, producer and director of all that we observe without and feel within. Our world is a jungle in the ego-inspired drama, a dangerous place where security is the only god worth following. Yet such a locked in type of security is an illusion. We can never be secure in ego’s painted world, not unless we see through it’s sham-like reality, with its hate, war and suffering.

No there is another place, not one of pie-in-the-sky escapism but a Higher and more real Reality. Not the reality of pseudo-righteousness nor conservative morality but the altogether realm of Source. Much of our angst and suffering stems from our view of this space-time bubble we didn’t ask to be thrown into at birth. Of course there is much to enjoy as we float around space-time, but let’s face it there is also much pain. Yet, how real is our suffering in the larger scheme of things. Isn’t suffering just ego’s director’s cut on life. What is life anyway? Is it this dream we live through without waking up until our final breath? Is Life something altogether different from this vale of tears. Does it reside in another dimension, one beyond the world of energy matter?

I suspect that it might. For glimpses of another way of Being break through ego’s carefully guarded plot from time to time. The Studio head will have His way, tweaking our sensory reality from time to time to awaken us to the bigger picture! Life as we know it is a virtual-reality movie one in which we are immersed, actors on a stage and all that. Shakespeare knew a thing or two about life and its transient illusion.

So how do we stay sane within the minefields of life, those laid by ego to keep us in its realm of fear. Well, we can go within. Not purely into the psyche-soul where ego tends to muscle in, but somewhere beyond; the womb of our Inner Space – spirit. Here all is still and all is Real. A Star-Gate to the Home from which we came and to which we shall return. A portal to an authentic Presence, a stiller of our psycho-spiritual storm. It is here where we touch base with Source, the personalised Being who imagined us into being, launching us into the schoolroom of space-time. We are here to discover who we are, set against the ever-so real scenery of ego-drama.

No, religion and politics will not take us there, for they too are players in ego’s defensive script; harbingers of a utopia that doesn’t exist and never can under the subtle direction of ego. Yet, many chose to throw their cents worth into their great crusades in the name of progress. An admirable choice but one that will ultimately frustrate. No, violence isn’t going anywhere; not in this theatre of dreams. Yet, it too is a stage prop, one that the Nazarene exposed as non Divine.

Roll on the Second Act.

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Scared of Love

September 16, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

Scared Of Love

Scared Of Love

 

Let’s face it. Most of us are scared of Love, real love that is! Not the sentimental version that sloshes its way around most of our waking hours, but burning love, the real deal. The Love that sees us naked, warts and all and still embraces us with an altogether different kind of acceptance, the very acceptance of Source itself, the One who thought us up in the first place.

Yes, even in its manifested human form we run scared of its all-seeing glance in our direction, swearing as we run for cover in the assurances of ego. Let’s be frank. Most of us at some stage in our earthly sojourn have been terrified of the one they call the Christ. Even His followers are really terrified of Him, believing the sin narrative that Christianity has overlaid Him with. We’re never quite sure if He’ll lay a guilt trip on us in the heady environs of the next life, one that goes something like this:

‘Never forget that I died for you, you undeserving sinner saved by grace!’

No, in our more honest moments we are still wary of the Nazarene, believing religion’s spin on His life, death and claimed resurrection. Such an underlying fear is revealed in our day-to-day avoidance of Love, those times that we prefer the security of insecurity to the Presence of Spirit Breath bubbling up within.

As for those who don’t give religion a second thought! Well, they’ve clearly had enough of the Jesus of Christianity. They’ve observed the Nazarene’s supposed reflection, the Christian believer, from a safe distance and decided, ‘Thanks but no thanks!’ The person of  the Christian Christ terrifies the free running ego. It spells entrapment and a suffocating confinement, a control that they can do without. It’s weird how multitudes quickly proclaim the Nazarene to be a ‘good’ Man before hiding him away in a religious cupboard that they vow to never visit. Yet apart from the religious caricature, there is something that scares folk stiff about the Galilean prophet. Maybe, we suspect that He was onto something regarding our inner life, something that asks us to travel through inner angst into a New World, a World of  reunion and contentment. ‘But He, asks too much,’ declare our wounded egos, those defenders against further rejection and pain.

Yes, this Man certainly rocks our inner and outer worlds. No wonder we run to hide in the Edenic bushes of our misperceived shame. Yet, we run from Love, a Love that has never rejected us nor called us sinners. Hasn’t ego done a great job in keeping us far from Divine Love, shepherding us into the sheep folds of zealous religion, or the hedonistic cities of  quick fix pleasure.

Time perhaps to revisit the Nazarene, on the neutral hillsides of our weaker moments. One Touch is all it takes.

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My New Book ~ ‘Matrix Messiah’

September 4, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

Matrix Messiah

Matrix Messiah

 

Hi folks

I’m delighted to announce that my latest book, ‘Matrix Messiah’ has just become available on Amazon. It encapsulates much of my thinking about the Nazarene and what following Him is really all about. I humbly offer it to you as the fruit of my life, with all its ups and downs.

‘Matrix Messiah lifts the lid on the subconscious matrix that most of us miss, the subliminal puppet-master of our day-to-day relationships and actions. Discover why certain people get under our skin; why we feel trapped by life; why inner peace continually eludes us. Spiritual writer, Dylan Morrison, examines the radical mission of Nazarene prophet, Yeshua bar Yosef, through the complementary lenses of Girardian mimetic theory and transpersonal psychology. The result? A key of knowledge, a long time hidden, yet deeply practical revelation that frees us from the gravitational field of interpersonal control and cultural manipulation. By exposing the roots of our individual psychic fragmentation and society’s ever increasing violence, Matrix Messiah brings a much needed message of hope and reintegration, for religious and non-religious alike. A therapeutic insight into the Galilean holy man; one that will challenge the prevailing world views of Christianity, atheism and just about everything else in-between.’

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Little gods

September 3, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

Little gods

Little gods

 

The major religions claim that we are made in the image of God, or the  Divine Source. Most of their adherents walk around believing it but without much of a clue as to what it may mean. I guess that sums up most of our metaphysical  beliefs. We just believe them and continue merrily on our way.

In this new little series I thought I’d look at two aspects of the Divine that we can reflect in this space-time reality, viz. creativity and compassion. Today we shall look at creativity.

I guess it’s pretty obvious that Source must be a creator; by definition we wouldn’t be here unless it had done its thing. And what a creation it’s come up with. Surrounded by our man-made concrete jungles we’ve lost touch with the wonders and simple complexities of the Natural Order. To gaze and ponder on a wondrously blue dragonfly is to touch base with a drop of the Mystery that is God. Multiply such experiences by a thousand fold and we are closer to believing that there is a purposeful Designer somewhere out there, perhaps even within.

Yes, Divine Source, this Transcendent Creator is full of intelligence, an intelligence bursting with the passion of expressing itself on the canvas of space-time. Creating is part of the Divine DNA – it can’t help itself, dancing its way through the virtual-reality fields of Being. And, its masterpiece is us, those little humanoids that populate planet Earth. Like a mischievous Rembrandt, the Artist has placed something of Himself in each and every one of us.

One such aspect of this Spirit brushed image is our own ability to create. Like the Divine, we too can’t help ourselves. We have been hot-wired to create. Each of us has been equipped with a well-spring of creative energy with which to express the wonder of our individual perception of Being. Such creativity, brings a flow and sense of purpose to our daily lives. Show me a creator and I will show you one that has phoned Home. In the act of creating, we know we are linked to something much bigger than our psyche-soul; in releasing the energy within we are opening up a conduit with the Divine, a pipeline back to Source.

May I suggest that much of our internal angst stems from a blockage of this creative flow. Stuck in the rat-race we work to survive, often in jobs that call for little or no creativity at all. As we take our dutiful places within the production line of our material world, we yearn for the fields of freedom, space where we can be Me. If this sums up your particular situation what can be done?

Well, I reckon that we all have a little creative project on hold within us. Swamped by the pressures of supposed ‘life’, it lies waiting its release. It lies bubbling under the hardened rock of our ego demands and fear-based control. Getting in touch with our creator within is the first step to release. Being brutally honest with ourselves in the silence of contemplation enables us to hear the whispers of our liberator. Once we know what we really WANT to do, will is on hand to energise our escape from the confines of our non-creative life. As we take the first steps towards our creative project, power flows from somewhere deep within. It is the energy of Divine Passion, released like a caged tiger on the plains of ordinariness. With one leap we are free to be a more authentic version of our Self. Once complete, a new creative surge will present itself to carry us even further forward.

I’d better make clear that this new creativity may or may not be part of our daily 9-5 job. If it is, then much  workplace stress will disappear. If not, then it will find its river course in another slice of our space-time existence. One ounce of creativity outside the workplace will enable our psyche-souls to bear the load of much hum-drum grind. Yet, once experienced even the predictability of our regular jobs may begin to change. For, once the creative genie is released from the lamp of ego boredom, anything is possible.

So, may I suggest that as we set out along the path of creativity, we are on a journey that will inevitably lead to a meeting with the Creator of all creators, the Source I Am. To jump on the creative train is an act of faith or trust, one that can take us to places that we can’t imagine – a place of inner Knowledge and Divine encounter.

Now where DID I put that manuscript?

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AWACs & The Inner Core

August 26, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

 

Inner Core

Inner Core

 

It’s been a funny few weeks, with my health scare and all. Last Wednesday I saw my friendly maxillofacial surgeon who confidently informed me that I had a case of solar keratosis rather than fully fledged lip cancer. Still wants to take a lip biopsy to confirm his diagnosis but it’s all good news, at least better than it was at my clinical dermatologist’s. Certainly a weight lifted off me and my good lady Zan as we walked from the clinic with a spring in our step. I’m still listening for answers within. Why now is the big question, as I’m on the verge of launching my new book! Is there a connection, a little thorn in the flesh perhaps to keep me grounded in the One I purport to write about.

This has got me thinking again at the power of the psyche-soul. The slightest sign of bad news and its off on one. Like a little defense force it pumps us full of fear, narrowing our inner world down to the goal of survival. Useful I guess for our Neolithic ancestors who ran when an enormous big beast jumped on them from a great height. But today? I suspect that we all have a psyche-soul that’s a bit oversensitive  and paranoid about making mistakes. Having left us open to the primal wounding of infancy, it’s not gone to make the same mistake again. Like some form of psycho-spiritual AWAC , it’s all too ready for signs of danger on our ground of being. Ready to launch counter strikes by our fighter sub-personalities at the drop of a misperception we fly on the wings of feeling.

So when my clinically cool dermatologist mentioned the word ‘pre-cancerous’ my personal little airforce sprung into action, stunning both body and soul into a form of lockdown. The border crossing through which spirit-breath flows and energises our everyday life is closed with immediate effect. ‘No time for this spiritually minded stuff,’ the psyche soul declares. ‘This is an emergency, code red.’

Yet in Reality it isn’t of course. It’s just a blip on the world of form. It just doesn’t feel like that as body and soul conspire to rule our conscious world, pumping it full of dreadful scenarios.’Take tour pick,’ it kindly offers. ‘ All will end up in the big wooden box – oblivion, with no beyond.’ Such a cheerful chap this psyche-soul, armed with its sense of impending doom. What power to sway and send us down the corridors of despair within seconds of its ‘Warning, Warning’ red light.

So how are we to stay sane, equipped with such a potent battery of survival powers. Well of course it’s not the whole story. Behind this little ‘me’ lies another, one from One, the Divine Spark that needs no defending. Non reactive and constantly at peace, this Self gets quickly overlooked in the frantic fray that follows an AWAC warning. Battlestations are where it’s at, but deep within we’re undisturbed and gently pulsating to the calming energy of Divine Love. So it’s all about which layer of reality we plug into. Unless we are a walking, talking Spiritual Master, our psyche-soul early warning system will always kick in. It’s what we do about it that determines our future level of peace.

Psyche-soul tends to see itself higher up the spiritual plane than it really is. It’s a ‘me’ tool for our space-time experience, a self for this world of matter and form. It was not created to control, but to be the junior dance partner in the Waltz of Being. In other words, its perceptions must be seen in the Light of a higher knowledge. The AWAC of psyche-soul isn’t the be all and end all of  perception. It’s limited in its range of Reality perception. No, for a genuine overview of our Being, spirit breath must come into play.

And how do we achieve this when all hell breaks loose? Well, we need to look within, beyond the emotional skirmishes of consciousness, to the place of peace, that dwelling place of Source. Passing down through the layers of fear we’ll find the eye of the storm – the stillness that whispers ‘Enough’. Walking in solitude, meditation, prayer; all help us leave the chattering fears of our AWAC behind. In Silence we touch base with Headquarters and the One who really knows.

So maybe that’s why we’re here in the first place. To walk through this induction process of awakening; to discover in the realm of soul that we are much more, a little drop of the Divine Ocean having its human experience.

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Rollercoaster

August 12, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

Rollercoaster

Rollercoaster

 

Another week gone and I’m still on the roller coaster. At times I’ve wanted to cry and at times I’ve felt free enough to laugh. Oh the twists and turns of this inner turmoil, this ride that I know is needed but not enjoyed. Waiting for any doctor isn’t pleasant but waiting for one who cuts away lips for a living isn’t a great experience. In this man’s head and hands lies my future – at least that’s what my frantic ego is telling me. Deeper down I suggest to myself that I’m a bit of an illusion, a Cosmic kid conjured up by Divine Love. I didn’t ask to be born, at least as far as I know; my life seems to be the Divine Will, an actor on a stage and all that. So ultimately, it’s the scalpel of  Spirit Breath that will have its way – a way of healing for it can do no other.

I’ve been topping up my trust by reading a wee book by Brandon Bays, a spiritual teacher who zapped her own tumour in six weeks by emotional healing and cell reprogramming. It’s been doing the trick when ego packs up and goes to bed for a rest. It all makes sense to me, the wounds of past traumas affecting the DNA output of our cells etc. According to Brandon journeying through our inner layers of trapped emotions takes us into the Void, a dark place that terrifies us. Yet, once we jump in, or are Divinely pushed, we find a wondrous joy on the other side, a place where all sorts of miracles take place. Finding Source and the powerful Self within, restores our immune system to do its thing.

I’ve no doubts about the theory, yet facing up to our hidden, repressed emotions isn’t as easy as it sounds. Ego has defended us from pain for decades and isn’t willing to hand over its realm of expertise to a therapeutic new kid on the block. Anyway, I dipped my toe in the waters of Self exploration a few days ago. Asking my body what it was trying to tell me, a number of images and accompanying tears began to flow through my conscious mind.

I saw a nine-year old me standing in front of a 30-year-old Cub master, with a stunned look on my face. We’d been making models for our handcrafts badge and I’d put in plenty of hours to rustle up a wee cardboard aeroplane for inspection. Unfortunately, my Scouting inspector wasn’t that impressed. ‘Go away and make another one Dylan!’ was all he could muster as his words pierced my tender heart. A failure at nine, as pronounced by a pseudo-father figure. Tears gently rolled down my face.

Next, I was taken to a scene that took place the following year. I’d previously entered our local cycling proficiency test and won a monetary price. I’d been invited to the local Town Hall for the presentation of prizes and felt like a million dollars. However, second time around, after weaving in and out of a row of suitably placed obstacles, I’d been quickly failed by a male judge with a clipboard. This time around no certificate and no price. Again a male quasi-father figure had clinically rejected me. Off I cycled, in the direction of home where waves of failure swept over me as I lay on my bed in an embryonic position.

The revealings kept coming. I saw myself, as a 10-year-old lad, standing in a row of boys at the front of our Year 5 classroom. We’d been playing with a football during lunchtime in the inner sanctum of our beloved teacher Mr Barrett. He’d been a soldier and was a real man’s man with his cigarette and role of school soccer coach. He lived quite close to me and I enjoyed the father-like concern he showed me regarding my academic progress. Anyway he we were, lined up like ten-pins about to face our just desserts for accidentally knocking over his favourite pot plant. After a loud telling off the dreaded double rulers were produced and brought down with a stinging whack on our outstretched hands. My we head reeled with emotions – shame, rejection, betrayal, the lot. Again, I’d blown it in the eyes of a substitute father figure. A warm, salty tear trickled down my 58-year-old cheek.

So, are these emotions something to do with my present lip-cell DNA? Is something within, trying to tell me something about my past, present and future? Why my lips, the physical expression of my prophetic voice? Clearly, father-like rejections are bubbling up to the surface. Time to get real and let it all hang out in the Light. Brandon says my job is only to co-operate and forgive, both myself and others. I do that gladly as I head further in to what lies buried in the shadows of my psyche..

Thank you for all your messages of support and prayers. Do feel free to send me any insights you may have; I’ll appreciate them all. Meanwhile I’ll sit still and let this ride take me where it wills, knowing that it is just that, a ride. I’ll write again next week, prior to my appointment with my surgeon. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he were a man of Spirit! Though maybe better if he were as good as my doctor claims.

❤ Dylan

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Curve Ball

August 5, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

Curve Ball

Curve Ball

When we’re floating along the calm ocean of spiritual experience we imagine it to be plain sailing all the way. We are mistaken. When we reach a plateau of Awareness and inner peace we believe it to be the summit. It isn’t. When we’ve hit lots of home runs and are confident of our spiritual strike rate, we are suddenly taken aback by a curve ball. And so it was last Tuesday! I’d better explain.

For the past two summers I’ve ‘suffered’ from a chapped and often cracked lower lip Initially my local doctor, said nothing to worry about and gave me a hydrocortisone cream to settle it down, which it did for a few weeks. It didn’t last, so I resigned myself to the fluctuations of a lip problem that was probably minor in nature.

Until last week that is when my doctor sent me to a dermatologist who within seconds diagnosed my lower lip as a victim of a precancerous skin condition. In  her pristine white coat and emotionless face she delivered her conclusions with cold efficiency. My poor wee psyche was stunned, spluttering a few irrelevant questions in her direction to try to gain a foothold in my quickly vanishing inner equilibrium.

Being a bit of a hypochondriac, a story in itself, I was programmed to hear doctors proclaim, ‘Nothing to worry about Dylan’. This time the old tapes didn’t roll, replaced instead by a clinician’s non-bedside pronouncement. After hearing the gory details of what non-treatment could result in, I was referred to a maxilla-facial surgeon here in Lincoln, who would more than likely recommend an innocent sounding procedure known innocuously as a lip shave!. it is a misnomer – the removal of my lower lip’s surface layer of skin and the creation of a new lip by stretching excess skin from within my mouth to create a new smiling me.

On the way out my dermatologist friend finally added a ‘nothing to worry about Mr Morrison’, as she handed me a tick box form to record my irrelevant impressions of my consultation experience. Too late the damage was done. My old sub-personalities who see death behind every lamp-post had kicked in, transmitting pictures of a grieving Zan  and a  whining wee black doggy frantically looking for her departed master. Oh, the power of fear! It truly is awful in its vice-like grip on our sense of being.

A week later, I’ve regained some sort of perspective on my new pre-cancerous friends living on my lower lip. They are messengers – transmitters of a call to growth and healing. How bizarre that a prodigal prophet should have his lips tell him something isn’t right. Sounds like a bit of a sick Cosmic joke, but there it is for all to see. Time to break camp, leave behind my spiritual ease and take the next climb up Jacob’s ladder, that stairway to heaven that leaves no stone unturned.

I’m listening to my body and the inner wisdom that I believe is there for all of us to tap into. As I seek to journey into my core Self, frantic, fearful little messages try to knock me off course with threats of an early demise. Flap as they will, this is a time for growth, for an expansion of consciousness, for a new awareness of how much we shy away from our destiny as images of Divine Love. So, I’m listening and waiting. All is well and shall be well, is my mantra of choice to steady the ship of my fragile psyche-soul, as we navigate the unknown seas that stretch out before me. To be honest, I was expecting such a catalyst to further growth and the healing of old memories that lie within. Recently, I’ve had a number of incidents with ‘officialdom’ of various shades, that have released an anger deep within me that I thought had been dealt with a while back. I should have known that Divine Love, the surgeon of my soul would come along and do a lip enhancement, to remove the roots of anger that so easily sharpen my words for war.

My desire is to open all to the prescriptive gaze of both Self and Source. I’m seeing it all as a rollercoaster ride, with its ups and downs but one that will serve me well. My good friend and zen student, Matthew Sammut, has encouraged me to write of my journey through this little Shadow Valley in order to encourage others. Either all our God talk and spiritual experiences help us or they don’t. I choose to go within, to a realm more real than the clinician’s black and white pronouncements. There I hope to hear the messages waiting for me on my inner Voicemail. The roots of my anger and damaged lip, and the Wisdom to do what needs to be done.

I’d value all your prayers and healing energies along the way. Let’s see what Divine Love conjures up from the curve ball pitched at my mouth. Hopefully a more authentic and compassionate Irishman whose words heal and restore rather than wound his fellow-man.

Blessings to you all

❤ Dylan

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Families ~ Blessing Or Curse? Part 2: Fathers

July 21, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

Families ~ Blessings Or Curse?

Families ~ Blessings Or Curse?

 

In the first post of this little series I looked at the pros of cons of mothers on the development of our fledgling psyche. Interestingly most folk have kept their comments to themselves after reading it. Perhaps I have unearthed a pain not yet reading for the Light. Perhaps the post was way off mark. Anyway, today I wish to look at fathers and how they influence our psycho-spiritual makeup.

Contrary to popular myth it was the women folk who ruled the roost within the human communities of ancient times. The warrior Amazons of folklore representing a hidden truth that the modern male prefers to ignore. Somewhere in the dark annals of history a shift took place and men rose to the top of the tribal pecking order, at least in theory if not altogether in practice.

Today we again live in a time of flux where the relatively recent social order is once again shifting. Women are once more emerging from under the male dominance of social norms. It is difficult being a mother and indeed a father in such a whirlwind of social change, no matter how beneficial it may prove to the future of mankind.

Having said this, I wish to look at fathers in light of the traditional Middle Eastern take on fathers, one that prevailed in 1st century Palestine at the time of  the Nazarene. Such social norms greatly influenced the religious take on God, pushing the concept of the Divine feminine to the edges of acceptability or into the so-called heretical realms of goddess worship. Yeshua’s contemporaries perceived God as a Father due to their belief that fathers were the source of life. This Divine Source  was by their definition in control as of right. The One who provides the gift of life wields the authority to govern it. Middle Eastern fathers were thus perceived as governors in their own home and as such to be honoured and obeyed.

This model of fatherhood was left unchanged by the developing Christian movement as it spread westwards. Today our Western view of fatherhood is slowly changing but vestiges of the old hierarchical order still cling to our daily family affairs.

So what of our fathers? How have they shaped our psycho-spiritual development. Let me first start with the negatives. Absentee fathers are the plague of our modern world. Willing enough to sow their seed in an act of sensual pleasure many ‘dads’ aren’t so keen on hanging around for long. Many of our inner feelings of abandonment and loneliness can be attributed to the absence of an authenticating male parent. No matter how well our single mothers pour their love and nurture into our fledgling psyche-souls there is a wee gap. At the risk of appearing sexist, I believe that fathers who run away are depriving their kids of something deeply valuable. It is one thing to be loved by a single parent; it’s an altogether different level of assurance to have two parents, both present and engaging in a mutual love. The world appears to be a safer place for those of us fortunate enough to have been raised in such an environment.

Of course many fathers hang around but might as well have left. Fathers who are severely dysfunctional imprint disorder and confusion onto the psyche-soul of their deeply observational kids. Violent mood swings or emotional apathy are vicious psychic wounds that remain with us well into adulthood. Unaware of how messed up our fathers really are we give them the benefit of the doubt by believing ourselves to be at fault. Our childhood reasoning goes something like this: “If I take the blame, then  dad will love me”. Such faulty programming goes with us into life as we seek the approval of further father-like figures, whether future husbands or work-place bosses.

Of course some fathers are dysfunctional in an altogether way, attempting to micro-manage the life of their child.  Discipline and training are the cover stories for what in essence is a form of bullying. The bullying dad who makes his son or daughter do the right thing is a deeply insecure individual, most likely a victim himself of past parental abuse. In this camp we often find the religious zealot who believes that it is his duty to instil the fear of God into his offspring. Nothing of course is further from the truth, but many fathers use God as their cover story for emotional and often physical abuse.

So enough of the bad news! How can a father aid our healthy psycho-spiritual development. Well, obvious as it may seem, he must be a man who is secure enough to change and admit his own frailties, even to his children. If he has frozen on his own path of discovery he will do the same to his kids. Above all he will be a channel of unconditional love, even as one who sets out boundaries for his children. The children must know that they are loved not because of their performance but just because they are.  If dads can convey and model this to their young families then they have sown a seed within their children’s psyche that will bear much emotional health in adulthood.

A father who understands the keys of human development and adjusts the manifestations of his love to suit his child’s stage of maturation is a wise man indeed. For the loving boundary setter of early childhood must morph into the dependable supporter as his growing child sets of on their own journey of Self-discovery.

Above all, the father who believes and trusts that Divine Love is within and authenticating  the life of his child has the right idea. At times of suffering and pain, the good father will be helpless. It is in such times of turmoil that there is nothing left to hold onto but One who is All in All. It’s not easy to believe, for the pain of fatherhood can be psyche-shattering at times. As I stood over the open grave of my wee baby son Ben, back in 1984 I gave him over to the One from whom he’d come. It was as painful as hell but it was the only way. To do otherwise would have been a one way trip to insanity.

So, if  you’ve been deprived by a lack of input or indeed damaged by abusive acts of a loveless man what is one to do? Well, the best plan is to call a spade a spade and get those inner memories out into the open. Left in denial they only fester away and manifest in mental health issues or physical illness. Find an external authenticator, one who can reprogramme those inner tracks of hurt with unconditional love. For some of us this requires therapy or the listening ear of a deep friend, for others serious reading and a willingness to delve into that place of rejection that we’ve never wanted to visit.

May Abba,  the Cosmic Parent of the Nazarene and all mankind, guide us on the Path of inner healing and peace.

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Family – Blessing Or Curse? ~ Part 1 Mothers

July 15, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

Families ~ Blessing Or Curse?

Families ~ Blessing Or Curse?

Families, you either love them or hate them! We all have them to some extent and what’s more we didn’t choose them or did we? But more of that later in the series. Due to the human birthing process, in all its wondrously gory glory, we have a mother, father and if fertility and finances allow a few siblings.

So let’s start with the parents, ladies first! Our mother has carried us for up to 9 months before the big day, the day of our emergence into this somewhat crazy, space-time world. Without realising it, a lot of subliminal womb-centred  interaction has been going on between the developing me and my mother. The latest scientific studies seem to suggest that mother and baby share a lot more than blood and essential nutrients. Unknowingly the lady in question appears to be laying down an emotional imprint our her own feelings and state of mind to the little absorber within. It all makes sense to me now, after discovering that my dear mum conceived me out-of-wedlock back in the 1950s of  Presbyterian Northern Ireland. Oh the shame, for a nice little church girl like her to bear in the puritanical atmosphere that undoubtedly surrounded her. It explains the hidden, quiet aspects of my nature and the over-riding desire to explain myself to others. But enough of my own inner blue-print. If each of us could examine the psycho-spiritual state of our mom during pregnancy we’d more than likely see a reflection of our fractured Self, the collective of sub-personalities that give us our personality.

May I suggest that the initial fracturing of our developing psyche begins in the womb, in those miraculous nine months of darkness and maternal connection. The umbilical cord may transfer much more than life’s essential constituents in its downward flow. During the heightened and somewhat terrifying state of pregnancy our mother often finds one of her own sub-personalities coming to her rescue. It provides the strength to get through the seemingly endless period of gestation. Is it any wonder that we may switch to its generational clone for assistance as we face life’s pressures.

Of course, motherhood is , in a utopian world, the source of nurture and unconditional love, the greenhouse that propagates the well-rounded child and hence the well-rounded adult. I stress utopian for, as we all know, mothers are only human, albeit some more human than others! All mothers face an uphill struggle to maintain the flow of love without demand in the face of exhaustion, and a loss of Self. Absentee fathers, either physical or emotionally, leave the poor lady with a Herculean task. It’s no wonder that they slip up from time to time causing a little self-protective tweak to our sensitive psyche-soul. All memories of withdrawal are noted and a protective sub-personality birthed as a result. May I suggest that our mother is the most important sculptor of our psycho-spiritual health. ‘Your just like your mother,’ is more than a male chauvinist slur; it can inadvertently hold a nugget of truth  for  all of us, whether male or female.

Mothers do a great job in general, though some don’t. These tragic cases only pass on their dysfunctional psycho-spiritual traits to their wounded offspring and so the downward spiral of generational flaws continue. Major trauma and its aftermath play havoc with both mother and child. It’s just the way it is in this space-time bubble. The problem is compounded when the mother in question cannot let go of her ‘nurturing’ role in later life. Operating in the dearth of authentic Self, a mom can cling to her mother identity like some badge of honor, a maternal Linus blanket to keep the demons of insignificance at bay. The seeds of psychological dysfunction sown in pregnancy, usually pop us as relational breakdown in the later stages of life when adult children break away to avoid the suffocating atmosphere of a mother, well past her sell-by date. It sounds cruel and uncaring but the new adult must get away for the sake of their own identity, away from the mummy’s little darling apron strings of a lady in crisis.

So what of moms? Well, at their best they are reflections of the Divine Feminine, the Nurturing Spirit of creativity and wholeness. A good mother is worth her weight in gold. A woman to be honored and cherished, albeit from a safe distance as time moves on. The primal bond of motherhood can be a continuing channel of generous authentication or a chain to stop us leaving. Discernment and compassion are required for we are dealing with the soul of a woman who has banked her all on her offspring. Only Divine Love can safely lead both mother and child into their individual destinies, an authentication of Self from beyond, a detachment of all that seemed so critical in the wondrous days of childhood.

In my next Blog, I’ll look at the role of fathers in our psycho-spiritual development. Best ask my son, Zac, what he thinks before I write it!

I’m dedicating this wee Blog to my dear departed mum, Elizabeth, a wonderful, if somewhat stoical woman, who protected me from the shame of men, until the day she died. Till then mum. ❤

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I Am The Vine

July 8, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

I Am The Vne

I Am The Vne

 

Yesterday, I was privileged to visit the Walled Garden at Clumber Park, Sherwood Forest. At present a 19th century long greenhouse is being lovingly restored to its former glories. Yet, for me it already is reflecting a glory of sorts in its large collection of grapevines.

After much pruning and tender attention for the last six months or so the white grapes now hang there for all to see in their bounteous manner. Ripe for the picking and awaiting their edible fate!

So why write about it here. Well one of the Nazarene’s most famous sayings came to mind as I stared in wonder at the paradox placed before my eyes.

“I am the vine, you the branches; he who is remaining in me, and I in him, this one bears much fruit, because apart from me you’re not able to do anything.”

In the past I sat around long enough in church circles to hear numerous talks on these words all taking the same theological tact, viz. using Yeshua’s words as proof texts for his Divinity. Yesterday though, it was different as I focused on the wizened wood on which the abundant fruit chose to hang. It got me thinking.

Having passed through a PTSD period, where one’s psyche is stripped bare, I now look for the psycho-spiritual insights of the Nazarene’s teachings and this one is, I believe, a wee gem.

Let me start by suggesting that the litle phrase, “I AM”, one frequently used by Yeshua, is a teaser of sorts. He is pointing to the Transcendent Source of All, the One who just is, depending on nothing else for Its existence. In applying this term in His sayings the Galilean is opening up to us the world of Spirit, the higher realm in which we were spawned to swim. He is trying to unveil the mysteries of how and why we tick.

The Vine represents Source and all that It has birthed, the whole God filled shebang. We can only understand our being in the Light of the I Am transcendence. The Nazarene, may I suggest, isn’t pointing primarily to Himself but to the Cosmic Parent who holds together all in all.

So where do we come in. We are the space-time channel of the Divine Life, the branches if you like. Like old wood we don’t look that special, even to ourselves but we contain within ourselves the Divine sap that will manifest Itself in Its fruit of choice. May I go even further and suggest that the old wood of the branches is none other our psyche-soul, that part of us that weathers the storms and wounds of life.

In other places I have written of how the Nazarene is a transmitter, perhaps a unique one, of all that flows from Divine Love. In doing so He is, or becomes a microcosm of the Vine Itself. In asking us to remain in Him, the Nazarene is asking us to stay within the desire field that emanates from him, that Divine magnetic field that realigns our battered psyche-souls with the Divine Flow. We are mimetic creatures here in space-time. We were designed to absorb desire and follow its leading. The Nazarene is challenging us to remain within the Divine desire flux, to allow ourselves to be drawn into the very heart and mind of Divine Love, as He did. He isn’t a Model that will not reject us as we become like Him. Rather He will rejoice and bless Source for the familial extension of the Divine Image. He will remain in us as a magnetic Presence, one that leads us out of the captivity of ego and into the very I AMness of Source.

The plans and purposes of Divine Love, the Source script of the Divine Drama, will come to pass, way beyond our widest imaginings, as we remain under the influence of  the creative Spirit. Fruit will pop up without any religious or moral effort, without the strains and efforts of ego sponsorship. Divine Love can produce fruit with ease; all its asks is to remain, and to be open to Its inflow of Life. Of course the annual pruning will be the surgery of soul-work, when Love has a word with our restless sub-personalities, all hot and bothered in their doubts of Divine approval. Best to let the  Spirit vine dresser do Its thing without fuss; the sooner our psyche-healing gets going the sooner we will feel the joys of connection with Life-bursting Source.

If we try to step out of the Nazarene’s desire field, we will return to the manipulation of skewed desire and all its resulting inter-personal problems, viz. Model Obstacles and Monstrous Doubles. Even though we sweat blood in the mimetic realm of man we won’t produce anything of real worth, for all will pass and disappear into the mists of time.

The fruit of Divine Purpose will remain, in some shape or form way beyond the mystery of death. Perhaps it will be served up in a special cup, as the Wine of our Journey, at the Wedding Feast of I AM and Its reunited Lover.

I guess we’ll find out one day!

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Where Does God Hang Out?

July 1, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

Where Does God Hang Out?

Where Does God Hang Out?

 

Ever wondered where God hangs out? Now I know that God is everywhere, but what I’m trying to get at is where does the Divine hang out with us. Where do we really experience the intimacy of the One who fills all in all.

When we observe those who believe in a Divinity, it would appear that for many it’s a sacred building wherein lies the Reality of Transcendence. For each Friday, Saturday, or Sunday, millions worldwide head to their local, Mosque, Synagogue or Church in their search for God. An alien observing our religious practices would have to conclude that the Source has instructed It’s followers to meet up with It in the dedicated structures of ‘holy’ buildings.

I once remember sitting at the back of  St. Mary’s Basilica, in the historic city of Krakow, Poland, with my eyes focused on the isle in front of me. A recovering Protestant like me couldn’t believe my eyes. For on a regular weekday morning, a steady stream of teenagers would walk into the cathedral and immediately drop to their knees, making the sign of the cross as they devotedly stared at the altar. Back in Northern Ireland it was a Herculean task to drag a hormone tossed teenager into a church on a Sunday morning outing! Of course, Poland is still a Catholic fuelled nation, one whose identity is closely tied in with its faith of choice. Nevertheless, it was the perception of the young folk concerned that God somehow hung out here more than anywhere else that slightly disturbed me.

The danger for all religions is that a place and its related rituals, be it group prayer, worship via song, sacramental acts of remembrance or the sermon-homile become the only place for Divine contact in the eyes of their adherents. More worryingly is the underlying programming that one must  attend and support the associated institution in order to keep in touch with the Divine. Holy texts, tradition and guilt are all used to keep the faithful on the hamster-wheel of religious attendance.

Unsurprisingly the Divine may touch the hungry soul in such an environment. If the individual in question only looks for Divine Love in their hallowed environment of choice then that is where It will manifest from time to time. An act of mercy, rather than the outcome expected for putting the attendance penny in the slot of the religious fruit machine.

Many of my old Christian friends often look at me with saddened eyes before asking if I don’t miss the regular meeting together of the saints on a Sunday morning or Wednesday evening in my church of choice. My answer tends to shock them a little; it’s always an emphatic but hopefully humble no. I’m afraid I’ve attended too many Christian circuses in my time to appreciate the spiritual nuances of being in a sacred building doing my sacred stuff. I have to be honest; churches tend to give me the creeps.

Here in Lincoln, we have one of the most striking Gothic Cathedrals in the world. Tourists come by the coach-load to pay their £8 and see the ecclesiastical wonder that meets them. Yet, it does nothing for me, failing to touch any sense of the Transcendence within. Lincolnshire, being a very rural county is peppered with endless little Anglican parish churches, striving to survive the ravages of time. Occasionally I will go in to have a wee peep. Again nothing but the ghosts of times long gone, war memorials to the fallen brave of our past military misadventures. Not a spark of the eternal grabs my open heart.

Of course many folk find solace and meaning in their shrine of choice. For many ritual is faith and faith ritual. Yet, I’m afraid, no longer for me.  I’ve left behind the past scenes of my holy encounters, the waving arms, the rock fuelled worship, the teaching times of human wisdom. Yet, let me make clear that I’m not here to judge my fellow travellers, only to point towards another way for those tired of their building devotion. So where is this place where I and Spirit touch. If not in the purpose-built sanctuaries of man then where?

Well, let me answer with a simple little illustration.

This morning as I left my local paper shop to jump into my car I had an encounter. An encounter with Other, via the most touching of forms. Suddenly I spotted a mother duck crossing the road in front of me. Walking with great confidence and assurance she was followed by her three, little, fluffy ducklings, eyes devotedly fixed on their mama in front.

‘There’s mimesis for you my son,’ whispered my inner Voice.

‘See how it’s done! Follow me.’

Enough said.

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Non-Leader Leaders

June 24, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

Non-Leader Leaders

Non-Leader Leaders

 

In the previous posts in this wee series, I’ve looked at the pitfalls of being, or pretending to be, a leader within religious or spiritual groups. Both office-based and charisma-based shepherd roles tend to eventually morph into masks for our insecure egos, our fearful wounded psyches afraid to come into the Light of Divine acceptance. Of course our original motives may initially be well-intentioned but the outward and inward pressures of having ‘responsibility’ for a flock tend to take their toll.

Inside every leader lies a prisoner waiting to make a break for it. Yet, such is the ego strength of the religious or spiritual role that one can’t really make it on their own. Thankfully Divine Love has an appointment with all leaders whether they wish to keep it or not! Divine hijackings are a regular occurrence within the sacred world of the leadership tribe. One way or another Divine Love will get our attention and knock us off our leadership role. For many it’s ill health, for some an unexpected divorce, for others a nervous breakdown – all signs that our running on the hamster wheel of leadership expectations isn’t the Divine Will at all.

Once we’ve gone through our own valley of disillusionment and ego dethronement we are, at last, able to be ourselves, warts and all, without fear of what folk think. We can let all the fragmentation of our psyche-soul hang out in the Presence of Unconditional Love, the one that ultimately asks nothing of us but honesty. Healing and realignment that can follow our leadership cold turkey experience as we have our religious paradigm turned upside down. Our role as ‘God’s little helper’ is well and truly ditched as we realise that we are as broken and dysfunctional as those we once tended with our sacred medical bag of tricks.

So is that it? Is the leadership game now over for good? Well, yes and no.

Certainly our days of wearing the sheriff’s badge of  official God representation has gone for good. Divine Love was never looking for our spiritual sharpshooting skills as we patrolled the Kingdom sects of men. No, the lawgiver and law enforcer role has been decommissioned by the gracious act of Divine intervention. ‘Enough is enough’ it proclaims as it blocks our progress up the ladder of hierarchical leadership imaginings.

When ego has let go of every vestige of religious or spiritual ambition, and we have found a restored level of humanity and vulnerability, Divine Love may come calling. It’s call is one of realignment and Spirit flow. No longer the projection of strength and a Charles Atlas spiritual muscle programme, but an honest acceptance of frailty floating on the Ocean of Spirit Source. No, the days of doing and goals are over. Now we are only asked to be. Out of such a being we will soon perceive the flow of Divine Life. Here and there others will be touched by a look, a smile, a thought or an arm around the shoulder. A new channel of Divine Flow has opened up in the affairs of man. We are a walking conduit of compassion and a Presence beyond our understanding. In letting go of our leadership we have become feeders, water carriers for the hungry and thirsty among whom we dwell.

In realigning with Spirit Source, outside the Alice in Wonderland world of religious leadership, mission and belief, we’ve become transmitters of  a Divine Magnetism, one that draws the broken into wholeness. Such a flux of mimetic attraction bypasses the old ego settings, now passing through our reintegrated psyche, that which makes us truly us. We have become wounded healers as the late Henri Nouwen so aptly described our new non role. This function in the Divine Love vortex, isn’t one upon which to re-establish the kingdom of ego. Rather it is one that produces a deep contentment, a knowing that we can’t fix anyone, that Source is All in All.

So, ‘Feed my sheep’ isn’t a Divine call to action. Rather, it is a call to being. Out of such a place of rest and inner acceptance we will channel the Source from which we sprang, feeding the hungry with the multiplied loves of our broken humanity. We are all feeders of Divine Love. Give It half a chance and It will satisfy the longings of those who come our way. Non-leader leaders, non-leader feeders – sounds like Heaven on Earth to me.

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