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The Call

June 17, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

The Call

The Call

 

OK, so I’m not a great fan of Christian, or indeed any form of religious leadership that inhabits, or attempts to inhabit, our psycho-spiritual space. After having passed through some extreme, leader-based sects in my time, together with my brotherly brushes with the clergy of more traditional faith expressions, I’ve come to the conclusion that leaders are as screwed up as the rest of us. The difference being though that their position  means they have to hide it.

Many of us who have taken upon  ourselves the role of leader within a faith tribe are by nature a little schizophrenic. We are two or more people walking around the various playgrounds of space-time existence. We smile on Sundays but groan and moan at home. I guess our multiple sub-personalites adapt to our social environment like some form of  psycho-spiritual chameleon. Behind the projected strength and confidence of leadership often lies layers of confusion and self-doubt. My late friend, Roel Kaptein, once told me that in his role as a counsellor to Dutch Reformed pastors they often confessed to him, “I no longer believe any of it”. This lock-in to a professional system of belief, whilst wanting to run away is the stress-filled situation that many, once enthusiastic leaders now find themselves. Is it any wonder that such folk turn to illegitimate sexual encounters or the fiddling of church finances as an outlet for this somewhat unique state of  affairs.

So is there no hope for those of us who feel or have felt called by Divine Love to be leaders. In other words is Yeshua’s claimed instruction to Peter, “Feed my sheep” a genuine desire of Divine Love or a projected self-delusion. Did the Nazarene see his group of disciples as potential leaders? Well yes and no! Please let me explain.

It’s interesting to note that the above instruction given to Peter was post denial. The call to feed was given to a broken man, one whose rampant pre-crucifixion ego had well and truly been through the painful process of  disillusionment and despair. The Model Obstacle on the road to Jerusalem had chickened out and denied the Galilean around the fire of confusion. The fisherman had been through his own crucifixion of sorts -a severance with the psychic energy of ego that had caused him to join the Kingdom revolution. Peter’s relationship with the Nazarene had well and truly changed. No longer was he rivalling with incarnated Divinity for pride of place in a world shattering religious theocracy. No longer did he want to share the limelight with the latest messianic superstar. Hadn’t he cleared off back to the Galilee to pick up the pieces of his mothballed fishing business. The religious dream was well and truly over for him, even with a resurrected Master standing in front of him.

It is to such a one that Divine love issues its call. A call to feed rather than a call to lead. The days of religious hierarchy, whether official or charismatic, is well and truly over. The only recruits for the Divine feeding programme are those who have tried and failed to live up to the role of leader. The ego attachments of religious dreams have fallen away. The ambition of being someone in the religious affairs of man have well and truly gone down the tubes. Once our mimetic rivalry with the Divine and other desire transmitters has ceased in the brokenness of disillusionment we are in a place to really understand. The feeding of starved psyche souls can only be accomplished by Spirit Breath, the Divine energy that holds everything together in space-time and beyond. The channel through which Source flows is the non or ex-leader. The Joseph, who has done his jail time in the dungeons of despair and isolation. The dreamer who has allowed his dreams to drift away into the memory realm of unbelief.

But what exactly is this feeding process of which Yeshua spoke?

Well, I’ll look at the nature of that in my next blog.

Meanwhile, why don’t we unhook from our leadership identities. Alternatively, let’s not set gifted folk up on a religious pedestal of either their or our own making. The feeder channels of our psyche-soul are usually to be found right alongside us, in the midst of our broken but shared humanity.

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The Leadership Game and ‘Feed My Sheep’!

June 11, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

The Leadership Game ~ 'Feed My Sheep'

The Leadership Game ~ ‘Feed My Sheep’

 

OK, I’ll say it! Religious or spiritual leadership can be one, big, psycho-spiritual game.

Hiding behind my Mac’s screen, for personal safety reasons, I’d better attempt to explain my somewhat provocative statement before Pauline Bible verses are hurled in my direction. So, here we go:

Leadership within a religious sect can take one of two forms.

1) Official

2) Charismatic.

Sometimes these two forms can merge, conjuring up an extremely potent spell of leadership magnetism, one that is difficult to remain uninfluenced by.

If we belong to an institution with a religious bent, then it is argued that for it to run ‘properly’ it needs leaders; someone to take charge and get things done. Of course most folk who attend such an institution are only too happy for someone to tell them what to do, albeit in the name of God. Expectations may be relatively low, with folk just turning up being the desired goal of the leader in question. The way into institutional leadership varies from sect to sect . It may require a theological degree and rigorous training in the social skills required. This helps reinforce the religious expert/lay person divide  which keeps most institutional religion running along nicely until the lights are turned off.

Charismatic leadership is more to do with who the leader is rather than his official position within the faith group in question. The ‘leader’ is the one who appears to know God more than we do,  that fellow member with a little something extra that we can’t just put our finger on. Such a leader attracts followers, either officially or unofficially, like a magnet draws iron filings to itself. If operating within a loose fellowship of adherents it will be very clear to all concerned who this person is, as folk tend to hang onto  their every word. Indeed this charismatic individual may eventually be appointed as an official leader as the fellowship seeks to set up shop in the spiritual marketplace of institutionalised religion. The gifted one morphs into the official one and the stage is set for the problems of type 1 leadership. the hamster wheel game of keeping the Jesus show on the road and the pennies rolling in. The Charismatic movement that swept the socio-religious world of the 60s, 70s and 80s has generally gone through this transformation, with New Churches now being as institutionalised as the historic denominations that it once eyed with zealous pity.

So, what is going on behind the public persona of the religious leader? What hides itself behind the Archbishop’s colourful clobber, or the sweat drenched suit of the bulging-eyed fundamentalist preacher? What drives the idealism of the leader in training to jump into the religious pool and save those hell-bent on destroying themselves? Is the role of the Divine Lifeguard not a noble one, indeed a response to the call of Divine Love itself?

Interestingly, many of our religious leadership models have been taken from royal-priestly sects, mainly those within Judaism and other Midldle-Eastern takes on religious practice. The link between priesthood and royalty in the form of the High Priest-King only reinforces the belief that only one wise enough to convey the Divine Mind is qualified to rule. This twin-like model has flowed down into our religious mindsets, largely unaffected by the radical deconstruction of the Nazarene’s own teaching.

On entering a religious community as fledgling converts, we are bowled away by the certainty and authority of the communities leadership. We fall in love with their official position or their dynamic charisma which seems to press all our psycho-spiritual buttons. Finally, after years of Self doubt and experimentation we have found a belief system and indeed a father/mother figure who appears to provide security and a sense of familial belonging. Re-playing the inner, family tapes of our childhood we attempt to do it properly this time, seeking the favor of both leaders and their Divine sponsor, through numerous acts of compliance and commitment. We love being in a group with ‘strong leadership’ – one upon whom we can pin our Utopian desires for wholeness and health.

But what of the leaders, those who have responded to the ‘Divine call’ to step up to the leadership plate. What makes them tick? Well ,may I humbly suggest that they seek to heal their inner wounds, to please their ‘Father’ in heaven and receive the parental authentication and affirmation that they may have missed out on during childhood. This is not to condemn my leader friends, for we all seek to fill this psychological hole in many and varied ways, but to bring some light to commonly admired religious leadership aspirations. Such inner pain, overlaid with a draining sacrificial model of Self hatred and giving, can keep us running on the leadership treadmill for many years, like some sacred form of the Duracell bunny. Yet, eventually of course the power eventually runs out we lapse into institutional apathy or depart through illness or ‘loss of faith’. Yes, religious leadership usually takes a heavy toll – one that the Nazarene never intended for us. If our addiction to the position of scribe, scholar or Man/Woman of God doesn’t eventually destroy us it might just destroy those whom we love, our family, those who have stoically carried the heavy burden of our religious ‘calling’.

So, didn’t the Good Shepherd ask Peter to ‘Feed My Sheep’?

Well, if the Gospel accounts are to be believed it would appear so.

In my next Bog in this series I’ll attempt to explore this Divine call by considering mimetic desire and it’s role in drawing others into their own experience of Divine Love. The ‘non-leadership role’ of each and every one of us.

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Free Sample Chapter ~ ‘Yeshua Sayings That You Rarely Hear In Church ~ 4’

June 5, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

Hi Folks

Here’s one of the most potent and possibly disconcerting chapters in my recent book ‘Way Beyond The Blue’ for your perusal.

It’ll give you a flavour of the way I think and write.

If you want to read more, I’ve added the wee link to Amazon at the end!

❤ Dylan

 

 

 

Chapter 32

Yeshua Sayings That You Rarely Hear In Church ~ 4

‘For you took away the “key of knowledge”. You yourselves didn’t enter and you hindered the ones entering in.’

In this provocative, yet deeply perceptive statement, Yeshua bar Yosef once more turns the full force of the Divine spotlight onto the prevalent religious mindset of His day, indeed, onto the hidden mindset of all religious systems throughout the ages. The sacred skeleton in the cupboard can no longer remain dressed up in the pseudo-respectability that it cleverly attempts to clothe itself in.

So what exactly is this key of knowledge that Yeshua claims Judaism’s religious top brass were holding back from the common people? Well, in order to answer such a crucial question we need to examine the context of the Nazarene’s debate with His Jewish elders.

Yeshua has just fired both barrels at the number of excessive laws extrapolated onto the Torah by the Jewish Scribes. In other words, He was confronting the timeless issue of religious legalism that always reduces the big, spiritual picture to the minutiae of pietistic duty.

Yet, in the ensuing discussion, Yeshua unearths a much darker and sinister problem that lies as the foundation stone of all religious systems viz. violence and its accompanying hypocrisy; the hidden elephant in every holy of holies. The revelation of violence, lying at the heart of our commonly perceived route to holiness, is, I believe, the key referred to by the Galilean prophet-teacher; the key that opens the door to a totally new perception of the Divine Nature.

In first century Palestine the construction of tomb memorials to the prophets of past generations helped consolidate a much threatened, Jewish national identity, in the face of Roman oppression and occupation. The religious authorities in Jerusalem appeared to honour the pioneering spokesmen of their embryonic faith whilst paradoxically honouring their forefathers who’d murdered them. Yeshua decides to go straight for the sacred jugular in exposing the blatant hypocrisy of His fellow debaters by claiming that all prophets throughout human history, (Abel to Zechariah), had been murdered by the status quo religious representatives of their day.

Yeshua’s previous declaration that we cannot serve two masters appeared not to have registered with His supposedly learned audience. The religious violence of the past was repeatedly being hushed up, indeed, literally whitewashed over on the victims’ grand memorial tombs. A good gloss has always been painted over such religiously motivated murders.

The Nazarene, ominously a prophet Himself, dared to expose the violent spirit that continued to underlie the religious game since the dawn of human history. He well and truly succeeded in flushing this destructive genie out of its shiny, sacred lamp, thus determining His own particularly tragic, yet deeply prophetic destiny.

‘You are sons of your father who was a murderer from the beginning’ elsewhere exploded the early Jewish myth of a violent, angry God, the father in question being the Satan or Adversary of skewed human desire. No wonder Yeshua’s listeners immediately attempted to respond with violence, ironically proving the truth of His claims regarding their dubious spiritual parentage.

The murder of Abel, the first brother, is a telling prototype of all future religious rivalry and its resulting violence; the striking out of sacred jealousy birthed by a dysfunctional perception of the Divine. A founding murder misinterpreted as the result of a Divine rejection; a subtle mechanism that regularly keeps the religious show on the road.

‘For God and Ulster’

This paramilitary group’s slogan for war in my deeply divided homeland of Northern Ireland, says it all. The Divine has been mistakenly woven into the very fabric of human violence since Cain lashed out at his innocent sibling. Jealous of Divine approval, the sons of God go to war, carrying their dualistic Deity deep within their wounded, love starved psyches.

No matter how effective the cover up, the violence at the heart of religion will, given time, always rear its ugly head – like a jack-in-the-box that must eventually pop up. ‘Look how they love one another’ has become the taunt of non-believers worldwide as they witness the often bloody rivalry at the heart of all sacrificial religion.

As we all know, this radical revelation of religious violence by Yeshua quickly resulted in His own tragic, but not totally unexpected murder. Dressed up in the guise of politico-religious expediency; the Satanic genie had hit back in its time-honed modus operandi. Further unmasked through the Crucifixion of its Divine whistle-blower, the stunned violent godfather quickly struck back by insidiously dressing the risen Victim in violent apparel of His own. A perverse but deeply effective diabolical counter-play: a Father and Saviour Son who’d dispatch non believers to a place of eternal torment for their non-belief. A violent God now ridding Himself of violent men.

May I suggest that, like its Jewish predecessor, the religion of Yeshua also does a tomb job on its quickly dispatched prophets. Is this key of knowledge still important in our walk with the Divine? I believe so. The nature of religion, no matter what the brand, is still essentially the same; under its respectable Jesus layer lurks a hidden sibling rival that negates the very message of the Nazarene viz. a Divine Love that unconditionally welcomes and accepts all.

Thankfully, Spirit Breath, the inner Voice of such a Love can always be heard, whispering, far from the violent battlefields of religious systems, the fractured, dualistic world of them and us. Let’s constantly be on our guard; may we never mistake the Way of the whitewashed Tomb for the Living Way of Yeshua, the Lamb Victim, slain before space- time began.

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The Day Love Comes Calling

June 3, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

The Day Love Comes Calling

The Day Love Comes Calling

 

Most of the time we wander through life in a sleepwalk of sorts, bouncing from person to person, desire to desire and our personal addictions, the places of relief where we can get our ego batteries recharged. Shockingly the spiritual or religious among us aren’t really that different. Please let me explain.

The one who has a vested interest in our sleeping state is of course our wounded self or ego. Sworn to protect us from further pain and rejection ego often chooses the sedation of sleep to keep us from the risk of facing our inner pain and its authentic solution. Like zombies we bounce off others without much true feeling, the goal being to conserve our sanity at all costs. Of course, if we belong to a zombie tribe we enjoy the buzz of fellow travellers, the reinforcement of our sleeping state through the camaraderie of our fellow snoozers. We are masters at communal dreams, those roller coaster visions of  Divine moves just around the corner. These dreams make us think we  are bang in the centre of the Divine Will, soldiers in a religious-spiritual army that will soon bring the Kingdom to earth. Yet all is done in a state of sleep with ego smiling benignly on our nocturnal fantasies.

Of course, the depth of sleep is heightened by our subliminal absorption of the desires of others. Infused by the psychic energies of others we foolishly perceive ourselves to be filled with the Divine Spirit, that enthusiasm that drives our personal and communal adventures. Without this constant top up by external desires, we might lie down in a heap and eventually awaken, so ego makes sure we jump straight into the cauldron of our in crowd, those who provide our desire juice. Much religious and spiritual community involvement is the setting for such desire transfers. Our sleep identity within the group is established by the desires of others and if they are happy then so are we. Yet, shockingly desire transfer is the unconscious sleeping pill that keeps us locked into psychic slumbers.

When absorbed desires reach a certain level we are possessed by them. In the sleeping state there is no space between them and our felt identity. We are that desire. It has been incarnated in our psychic skin. This is the stage of addiction, ego’s final and most effective psycho-spiritual tool for keeping us under. As I sit here in my local coffee shop, watching the outside world pass by I see the face of addiction in the obese and smoking folk who stroll by oblivious to their condition. I see a street preacher, ranting and raving at those who quickly run by, avoiding eye contact with the tract distributing zealot. Another addiction, one that ego well and truly trusts to keep us in the hypnotic depths of sleep. These and the vast array of potential addictions just do enough to dull our psychic pain and keep us from awakening to Reality.

Sounds like we are well and truly trapped by the perceived reality around us, one that lulls us into the continual highs and lows of ego-scripted dreams. We are fast asleep and, it would appear, unable to waken ourselves from ego’s seductive sedation. What or perhaps more pertinently, who can awaken us? Well, let me make a somewhat bold assertion. Whilst self-help strategies and other religion-spiritual techniques are useful, I believe that they are only of benefit after a dramatic encounter with Love. In other words they belong to the realm of our post-operative care. No, I believe that Divine Love has an appointment for all of us – a day when it comes calling, whether we like it or not. Having politely knocked at the door of our pained psyche, it will use stronger measures if necessary, all flowing from the nature of its own Being. Many of us have had our psychic doors kicked in, before being hauled off into the Light. A Divine hijacking of sorts!

Initially this crisis event that pulls the mattress from under our sleeping frame is unwanted and perceived as a dark place. Yet, this shadow valley through which we are carried is a necessary stage in our Awakening. For in this place of fear and despair, ego is flushed out and dethroned from its place of control. Often in such a state we believe ourselves to be dying or losing our sanity. The reflex action of ego programmes want us to run or fight, yet we are powerless in the embrace of Divine Love. Like a caring counsellor walking an addict through cold turkey, Presence will be there, though we can’t sense it. Our day has come. We are on our way to a new psycho-spiritual place – a place of freedom and adjustment. A place of health and Self Awareness, the table spread before us in the midst of our psychic fragmentation.

Divine Love has been at this rescue game since time immemorial. It loves nothing as much as going after the ego lamb that has left the security of its flock. Re-centred around the spirit fire of our inner Self, we can rest easy without falling back into the delusions of our sleeping days. Once awakened we know things have changed. We’ve been through the hell of leaving addictive delusion, only to find a Silence in our inner Self, the meeting place of Source and man.

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The Greasy Pole

May 20, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

The Greasy Pole

The Greasy Pole

 

One of ego’s greatest tricks is to present to us a greasy pole to climb. One that promises much, in particular happiness and a sense of having finally made it!

It lies, for our pole of choice is an illusion, one that doesn’t really exist within the Divine scheme of things known as the Queendom/Kingdom of God in Judaeo/Christian parlance. Please let me explain.

Today I heard some news regarding two of my ex-teaching colleagues from Northern Ireland, both devout Christians who have just passed through major health scares.

Tony, a PhD historian used to be in the same dysfunctional Christian sect as me during his early spiritual sojourn. A highly intelligent man, he used to play the drums as we hypnotised ourselves into a sense of awe and detachment during our Charismatic sing songs. Having repressed deep Calvinistic tendencies, Tony finally had enough of the free and easy stuff, moving on to refocus on his teaching career in a local High School. Quickly rising through the ranks he finally achieved his dream job a few years back by becoming the Headmaster of the school, a seemingly fitting place for such a scholarly figure.

I haven’t spoken to Tony for over 10 years, yet today I heard from an old Irish acquaintance that Tony has retired following triple by-pass heart surgery. A sufferer of high blood pressure throughout his teaching career, Tony was  a certainty waiting to happen. The greasy pole usually ignores medical advice.

James, oddly enough was also a PhD, this time in Modern Languages. A lovely man, I have to say, one who avoided confrontation and was nice to everyone, his niceness interpreted as a manifestation of his steady Baptist faith. I remember James fondly, for he carefully navigated my nervous son Zac through the terrors of his dreaded French oral. Anyway, James was perceived by his fellow staff as the cleverest guy on staff, being asked each year by a succession of intellectually inferior headmasters to give the speaker the traditional vote of thanks on speech days! James, I reckon, used big words that not even the distinguished speaker could understand, as they smiled and acknowledged the joke intended by the profundity of the scholars vocabulary.

Again I haven’t spoken to James in over a decade. After my sudden departure from all things educational back in 2004, James conscientiously played the staff development game, rising to the ‘rank’ of Vice-Principal, the position where one does all the work whilst the headmaster basks in the subsequent limelight. Today I heard that James has also retired following a massive stroke a while back, one that he was lucky to survive. I wish him well in his convalescence and future pursuits.

So what is one to make of it all. Well I reckon that both guys were not really teachers but rather gifted men destined for a life in the higher levels of academia – both professor material perhaps in their chosen fields. In other words they had somehow ended up climbing the greasy poles, that would ultimately result in near fatal slides into retirement. Both men were God-fearers, as we say in Northern Ireland, yet may the fear of God have led to overwork and taking on pressures that are ultimately unbearable. May I suggest that our educational systems thrive on the self-sacrifice of such devoted men.

Yet, let us take a step back and consider why we climb our greasy poles of choice in the first place.

Well, at first we reckon that we can get to the top, given the required effort and dedication. The top of the pole beckons with promises of utopian fulfilment. Yet, even for the chosen few who manage to claw or bluff their way to the top, the summit is not as satisfying as it suggested. In other words, they have been taken for a ride! But by whom you may ask!

Let me suggest that there are two forces at work on our tortuous climb to the top.

1) Our own ego

2) The collective ego of the tribe in which the greasy totem pole is pitched.

Ego, as I define it, is our wounded psyche-soul, the ‘I am’ interface with our space-time surroundings. Due to the withdrawal of unconditional love and acceptance post conception and early infancy, our ego’s sense of inadequacy and rejection fervently seeks the holy grail of being loved. The greasy poles presented to us promise to grant us this sense of ‘OKness’, this sense of being whole. If we can reach the pinnacle of our pole of choice, surely it signals that we are worthy of love, by peers and more importantly the original parental withdrawers of total acceptance. Many climb the greasy pole to appease or prove their parents wrong, and ego is the sponsor of choice. ‘I’ll show them.’ resonates in the darkest caverns of our being, the echo-chambers where the voices of parental rejection bounce of our walls of pain. Our our journey upwards ego will be right behind us, like some frenzied personal trainer, who won’t take no for an answer. Indeed the fear of rejection by this driven inner voice just makes things more frantic as we clamber over others to reach our desired goal. The greasy pole is no respecter of persons.

Any group of people who regularly meet for a common purpose, be it a commercial, cultural or psycho-spiritual take on the characteristics of a tribe. As we know all tribes require a chief, who to be loved, only to be eventually hated, as well as a stock of willing victims for sacrificial purposes. Often the chief fulfills the role of collective victim as they fall from their often dizzy heights, only to be replaced by the next in line, who are willing to make the final push for supremacy and Self worth. The failings of the group climb are projected onto the departed CEO who has finally got their comeuppance. Such tribes appear to take on a collective mind of their own. They too operate out of a sense of rejection, driven along by fear of being irrelevant and ultimately unloved. Many of us who individually struggle with Self-acceptance, often join a tribe whose collective ego strength appears to be a safer pair of hands, ones that will surely carry us to the heights of fulfillment and acceptance. May I respectfully suggest that many faith groups also operate at this subliminal level of recruitment. To find Jesus, Yahweh, Allah or Enlightenment is the designated pole summit. ‘Climb with us and you’ll get there’ is the pervasive, hypnotic invitation addressed to our personal sense of inadequacy. Let’s face it, much religious activity is pole climbing, particularly the subtly deceptive ministry games that are played with hallowed frenzy. Our tribal life often comes to an end when we reach a place on the pole and fall off. Appearing as a somewhat tragic waste this momentous detachment is often the first step in authentic Self discovery and the healing embrace of Divine Love.

Yes, pole climbing can be dangerous for our health. Best jump off now and discover that Divine Love operates on the earthed lowlands of  the human psyche, that place of freedom where we remain untouched by the manipulation of ego, both individual and collective. The Nazarene’s nailing to a Roman pole was a message to us all – the pole is the place of death; the grave, our lowest point, the womb of a new beginning.

May Tony and James both enjoy the healing balm of Divine Love in their forced retirements, the poleless landscape where human spirits run free.

PS. Since writing this post I’ve heard that James has passed away. He died on the operating table when undergoing a major heart operation. Such a waste of a kind and talented man.

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Rivers & Buckets

May 14, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

Hi folks

Here’s the wee parable, ‘Rivers & Buckets’ lifted from my book, ‘Way Beyond The Blue’

Enjoy

Rivers & Buckets

Rivers & Buckets

Rivers & Buckets

Rivers pop up everywhere in holy writings probably because they’re sources of water, that is itself symbolic of Spirit. They’re everywhere – in Eden, the God Garden, right the way through to the New Jerusalem, the God City. What is it about this particular imagery that places it in so many holy writings or scriptures?

Well, water, if you’ll excuse the pun, is essential to life, especially for those inhabiting the barren and often dry lands of the Middle East. Remember no water = no life. I want to develop this thought a bit further, if I may, by exploring the idea of flowing water, i.e. our entitled River above.

May I suggest that you read the following short story before taking a few minutes to tune into your inner Voice. Ask Spirit to reveal anything that It wishes to communicate to you. In the meditative silence you may become aware of pictures, thoughts or even bodily sensations breaking through into your conscious mind. In the next chapter I’ll share my own thoughts on the little parable.

‘Once upon a time a small group of people found themselves travelling by raft along a very powerful river that snaked its way through a varied and yet extremely exciting terrain. One minute they sailed in fairly calm waters, the next, a waterfall confronted them that threatened their very existence. The thing that excited the crew was their sense that the river was alive, full of movement and yet totally unpredictable. As they floated along, dodging the rapids that regularly came their way, the travellers noticed the fish that reassuringly swam alongside, also hearing the neighbouring bird song that drifted through the warm still air.

When the travellers tried to control their raft they’d end up in the brink, soaked to the skin. The only effective way to make progress was to trust the raft as the river’s untamed waters carried them along. Their destination was a city, famous for its gold, that lay at the rivers end, as it merged with the Great Ocean.

After a few days, however, one or two of the crew decided that enough was enough! The river banks, with their rich vegetation, looked very appealing as a place where the travellers could rest. Eventually a vote was taken and the decision made. The raft would be hauled into a small quiet inlet on the riverbank and camp set up for the night. The travellers realised that water was essential to life and so, once camped, walked to the water’s edge and captured some of the crystal clear river water in a few old rusty buckets. The ride on the river had been exhilarating but now they’d decided to rest, the buckets providing the perfect receptacle for the precious river water.

Next morning, after a sound night’s sleep, the travellers decided to remain on the bank for another day, mesmerised by the surrounding sights and sounds of the countryside. The day’s water was drawn from the nearby river and the rusty buckets given pride of place in the camp. A few days later, someone raised the idea of staying for good at the river’s edge and building a simple settlement. Then they could have the best of both worlds! This novel suggestion was wholeheartedly and unanimously agreed upon by the travellers. After all they’d still be close to the river and could draw on its fast flowing water.

A month later, now enjoying the sumptuous fruit that grew on the river bank, the raft travellers had morphed into settlers. One evening, one of the party suggested that they should build a special place for the buckets due to their importance within the life of the fledgling community. The old raft was taken apart, plank by plank and its river-battered wood carefully prepared for its new use.

Next morning the settlers started upon their new project with great vigour. At the end of a laborious day, a small ornate building had been constructed and the freshly filled buckets placed on a gilded altar, for all to revere. That night the settlers partied until well past mid-night, celebrating the newly finished sanctuary for their ‘beloved’ buckets, the blessed containers of their daily water supply.

Awakening late the next morning, the keeper of the buckets lifted them from their sacred, resting place and walked enthusiastically down to the river’s edge to draw water, as was his daily habit. What a shock awaited him! All that lay before him was a dry river bed. Not a drop of water in sight. The river had changed its course overnight, now flowing through a distant land, where a new bunch of travellers were queuing up to ride it as it flowed towards the city of gold. As the stunned bucket keeper stared into his empty buckets, a small tear gently slipped down his freshly blanched cheek. Paradise lost!’

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Free Will?

May 6, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

Free Will?

Free Will?

Let me go ahead and say it!

Nothing can ultimately keep us from Divine Love – how can it?

‘Well, for starters,’ you may reply, ‘what about free will?’

Well, I agree that will appears to be an extremely potent weapon in resisting the Irresistible. Like some scurrying, little mouse it imagines its escape to be final before turning a corner to find its unfriendly, feline hunter one step ahead of it. Please let me explain.

Free will may not be that free after all. I appear to be free to choose what kind of coffee I’ll order when sitting here in this Lincolnshire, coffee shop. Shall I go for a latte or a soya cappuccino? No I think that I’ll go for an Americano with a little skimmed milk! Decision made. But is it that simple? Have I really made a decision or has the devious subliminal advertising of my surroundings influenced me. Has the choice of my coffee-drinking companion unknowingly influenced my own, preferred caffeine-fueled fix

Of course, apart from cash issues, such hidden influences don’t really matter in the overall scheme of things but with Divine Love it’s a totally different story. Either we are free to finally say NO to the Divine Presence or we can’t. Let me humbly suggest that we can’t.

Now of course it’s at this point that I will upset many of my Evangelical Christian friends for their whole raison d’etre is choice and free choice at that. Jesus died for our sins and we have a choice whether to accept God’s forgiveness or not! If not, well I wouldn’t like to be in your hell-bound shoes!

The reasoning behind this goes something like this. The Divine has granted us the power of free will, one that can refuse the very advances of the Love that gave it in the first place. Now there is something a bit off about this. If Divine Love, knew that the gift of free will would cause some of his beloved creatures to walk away from its very essence, straight into a godless eternity then would its granting constitute an act

Free Will?

Free Will?

of love? Rather, would it not be a somewhat, sadistic, ticking time bomb that would ultimately get rid of the apples of the Divine Eye?

I used to believe the free-will narrative on things but after my own rollercoaster life experiences, no longer.

No, will is, I believe, an illusion of sorts, one that helps us skip merrily through life believing that we are our own boss and that nobody tells us what to do. Yet, it lies, for within the human community, we are all influenced by the pull of the skewed, imitative desire of those around us. Pulled this way and that, we individually believe that the desires which regularly bubble up from our psyche-soul have their origins within, in other words, they stem from Me. Bouncing around the bouncy castle of life we’re oblivious to the frustrations and turmoil that haunt us from beneath – the controlling puppet strings of another’s passion and psychological needs. Their object of desire becomes ours and the subconscious battle for supremacy commences.

So, all a bit depressing you say! Well yes, if those around us are the only ones drawing us into their somewhat crazy desire fields. Thankfully there is a way of escape though, and that is to be drawn by the mimetic pull of Divine Love. Desire was birthed in the Source of All. It is the desire expert, the past master of its healthy default settings, the settings that tune us into liberty and life. This realignment with the One of our beginnings is the path of true freedom. Exchanging the hooks of contagious acquisitive desire, we involuntarily lay everything down, as we’re finally drawn into the Divine Embrace, like a prize salmon that’s had its final fling.

Some will be drawn into this awakening experience during their space-time sojourn, others will discover it post the illusion of death, or perhaps, as some Eastern philosophies suggest, on the space-time merry-go-round of a future life. Yet none will be cast out or expelled. To believe otherwise is to crown Free Will as the god of space-time and beyond.

In the Divine Presence, will, whether free or not, shall melt away, unnecessary in the Ocean of Divine Love. A homecoming where two have become One. The mystic catches glimpses of it and yearns for more, no longer interested in the matrix of desire.

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The Dance

April 30, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

The Dance

The Dance

 

I’m not a great fan of tv’s portrayal of faith folk, for below the surface there often lies a hidden agenda where  anyone with a religious or spiritual belief is fair game for overkill satire and ridicule. However, one recent series on the UK’s BBC has changed the whole scapegoating game. ‘Rev’, starring Tom Hollander as a kind but deeply flawed Anglican vicar trying to hold together a failing inner city church and tenuous marriage has ticked all my boxes. It reveals the ludicrous position that many men and women have been placed in as they attempt to work out a sense of Divine calling on a full-time basis within organised religion. Tom’s character, Adam, isn’t some kind of evangelical superstar, confident in his packaged message and his own pastoral abilities but rather a very human being attempting to be honest with both God and man. Anyway it’s now come to an end but, like the wine at Cana, the best was left until the end.

Not wanting to completely spoil the plot for any of you who might get to watch the reruns, Adam ends up broken and despairing on a city park, green hill with his whole world crumbling around him. In his own psycho-spiritual abyss he starts to dance and sing the following lines from Sydney Carter’s whimsical, little hymn from the 1960s.

I danced on a Friday

When the sky turned black –

It’s hard to dance

With the devil on your back.

They buried my body

And they thought I’d gone,

But I am the Dance,

And I still go on.

As Adam tentatively danced something broke within my own spirit – here in the often plastic schedules of tv land, Spirit was speaking loud and clear to me and all who watched. The  overwhelming sense of Other continued as Adam suddenly notices that a tall homeless person, with cheap, green, track suit bottoms, wooly hat and accompanying beer can, has suddenly appeared from nowhere to join in his melancholic song of hope. The stranger, in the form of my fellow countryman, actor Liam Neeson,  sits down to chat, calling Adam by name and staring at him with compassionately green, glint-filled eyes. ‘I understand Adam’, poignantly flows from the actors lips as both Adam and I simultaneously feel a deep strength flow into our dark inner worlds.

Of course, the Stranger immediately vanishes before Adam runs home to inform his stressed out and disillusioned wife, ‘I’ve just met God!’

Interestingly, ‘Rev’ was written by a team advised by a number of past or present clergymen, hence its authenticity, albeit one dressed up at times dark, comic humour. Sadly Adam is not alone in being pulled in two conflicting directions. The tug for a normal family life, one away from the continuous demands of others and a genuine sense of calling to be a channel of Divine Love is the day-to-day experience of many professional clergy. Yet no matter how much our psyche-soul’s secrets are repressed by routine, ritual and devotion, the real us will always win in the end. Let’s face it, betrayal and its resulting disillusionment are the norms of many religious and spiritual pilgrims. Yet, in the depths of nervous breakdowns and the like, the Truth gets a chance to shine through our ego’s protective religious veneer.

Here, at the end of our inner rope, we unexpectedly find a Presence; One who has been waiting patiently for us to turn off our frantic search for meaning, whether secular or religious. Falling off our inner treadmill, in a heap of dark despair, doubting our very sanity, a Light appears to lead us into a new wholeness. The game is up for our exhausted ego, as the devil load of communal expectation and religious striving falls away, perhaps for the first time in our earthly Sojourn.

How strange that many of us only get in touch with the Dance of Divine Love after darkness has done its worst. Yet, even such darkness ultimately proves to be a servant of the Light, that Divine Energy and Purpose that skips its way across the portals of our Being. A Light that invites us to join in the jig of joyous liberty, even on the darkest of demonic dance floors.

The secret of our release is closer than we all imagine – unless we become like little children we will not see or experience the Kingdom/Queendom of God.

Dance on all you Adams.

And Eves!

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Forthcoming Event

April 28, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

 

 

BookStop Cafe

BookStop Cafe

Hi folks

If you happen to live in the Lincoln (UK) area, you might be interested to know that I’ll be doing a short book reading spot with a questions and answers session for the annual ‘LINCOLN INSPIRED’ Arts Festival.

It starts at 3 p.m. Wednesday 7th May at the BookStop Cafe, Steep Hill, Lincoln and should last an hour ~ entrance FREE

If you’ve read any of my books or are just curious about my take on things I’d love to meet up with you there!

Incidentally, Joff the proprietor does great cake and coffee!

Hope to see you there!

Dylan

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Home

April 22, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

Home

Home

 

Someone once said ‘Home is where the heart is!’. For the first 54 years of my life that home was the little seaside town of Ballybrigg in Northern Ireland – but no longer! Please let me explain.

Raised as an Ulster Presbyterian, later to become a somewhat zealous member of a Charismatic Christian sect, I always felt completely at ease with the religion-political ethos that hangs over this beautiful little piece of God’s green Earth. Even the rain and the predictable, grey skies, mixed with the nightly news of murder and  spiralling atrocities didn’t shake my conviction that I was at home. I felt totally secure in the bubble of  my small tribe, one that believed itself to be a little  special in the eyes of the great Creator.

That is until two dramatic events changed my life forever. The sudden death of my 5 month old baby son, Ben, back in 1984, was the first seismic shift that turned my cosy inner world upside down. It launched me on my journey of freedom from the pseudo-safe belief system of my sect of choice. Nothing would be the same again, especially in the realm of religious devotion and group commitment.

The second shift in my sense of belonging was my stress burnout back in 2004, when I walked out voiceless from my place of work, an educational microcosm aka a school, for the very last time on a dull winter’s afternoon. Later, lying in my bed and weeping like a baby and doubting my sanity, I knew that another Linus blanket had been ripped from my grasping hands. I was no longer, Dylan Morrison, the Math teacher and pastoral Year Head. I was just Dylan, the broken man, drifting on the ocean of shattered dreams.

In hindsight, both these ego shattering events were the final two nails in my Northern Irish coffin. Paradoxically, a sense of psycho-spiritual claustrophobia slowly smothered me during my slow but sure recovery from my breakdown or ‘breakthrough’. I sensed that I no longer belonged and could not continue with the mask of conformity within the middle class environs of my pervading Protestant culture. Something was dysfunctional and I felt it, for the first time in my Ulster sojourn.

Of course my sudden departure from Ballybrigg, back in July 2009 still took me by surprise. Having bought a small apartment in Lincoln, England as a holiday home, on the spur of the moment, during a visit to see my son Zac, I didn’t expect that it was to become my new home and the birthplace of a new blogging and writing career. Yes, the Divine can step up the pace when it needs to. One minute we’re there and now we are here!

Last week, as I returned to Ballybrigg to attend my sister’s wedding and deal with some outstanding property matters, I  was apprehensive to say the least. Yet I needn’t have been concerned. For as I drove down to Ballybrigg from Belfast Airport, I felt a deep detached sort of peace within. On the outside nothing had changed in the five years since my departure; no new development, the same triumphalist wall murals on the working class gable walls. It could easily have been June 30th 2009, when I drove out of Ballybrigg in the opposite direction for our short holiday in England.

I sensed a bubble of sorts surrounding and protecting me from the cultural memories, people and persons that threatened to knock my new psychic equilibrium for six. It just didn’t happen. My time was enjoyable in a quiet, contained sort of way, my contact with old friends and family extramely encouraging. Even my visit to my dead son’s little grave was ok. As I stared at his little moss marked, sullied gravestone I wanted to shed a tear but couldn’t. I just seemed so detached and apart from this scene of  past burial and fervent prayer. A husk of memories remained, but ones without the  bitter sting of bygone years. Surprising myself, I quickly jumped into my car and headed off to meet the living. The shocking truth was that my wee son Ben, no longer touched me on that barren grave-filled, Ballybrigg hillside. Both he and I had moved on.

So will I return? Yes, if I have to for social or business reasons. Will I be rushing back, hankering for the old ways, the tribal dances of the Ulster Scots and Catholic Nationalists. No. In my soul, I am now an observer of these tribes, the blood of a more distant country running through my veins. A transfusion of sorts has taken place. My life now flows from another realm, one only observable by the inner eye of spirit sight. A place where tears are wiped away and distilled into the essence of a felt transcendent joy, an all-consuming ocean of Divine Love; the place I now call Home.

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Heading Back

April 9, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

 

Heading back

Heading Back

Well, it’s nearly upon me. My unavoidable return to my home town of Ballybrigg that is, after having lived in the relative psycho-spiritual freedom of Lincoln, England for the last 5 years. After escaping the religion-political tribal mix that permeates my old homeland, I’m heading back to attend my wee sister’s wedding, an amazing tale in itself that I’ll share with you all some time.

I guess it’s a bit like a ex-combatant returning to the battlefield that scared him for life. The wounds are healed to a large extent but the memories still remain. At times my previous life in Northern Ireland seems like a dream, at other times it appears in nightmare form, though thankfully these nocturnal replays are now few and far between. I’ll meet up with a few safe friends and relatives, eat, drink and be merry at the wedding and observe how my body feels in the somewhat claustrophobic environs of Ballybrigg, the town where nothing seems to change as the locals happily sleep walk through life.

My wee son Ben is buried there in a municipal graveyard on the outskirts of town. I guess I will go pay him a visit and shed a tear for a life shortened by the mystery of cot-death. Standing on the wind-swept hillside of the Irish burial ground will bring back many memories. My prayer over his little white coffin as I committed him to the God of my 1984 belief system. The handful of Irish dirt that I through on his lowered coffin, reminding me of the fickleness and transience of this space-time existence.

Of course in hindsight I see that Ben’s short life and unexpected death proved to be the painful catalyst for my escape from my sect of choice. Without the tragic events of that cold, January afternoon, I wouldn’t be sitting today in this English coffee shop and writing about my impending return to my homeland; like many inhabitants of Ballybrigg, I would never have left the cultural whirlpool of evangelical religious belief and political smugness.

I’ll be visiting my old family home that has been rented out to a lovely lady called Janet. Apparently the garage is crammed full of my old furniture and stuff that men tend to accumulate over the years. The ping-pong table where my son Zac and I spent many hours, honing his skills for competitive tournament play. The tables and chairs that were the focal point of our dining room, where we regularly worked our way through the pain of religious burn out over Zan’s beautiful home-cooked meals. The memories will come flooding in but the time has come in the Divine plan, for me to return and face my old haunts.

Life is so full of circles. Perhaps, as my Eastern friends suggest, existence itself is one big circle. Anyway, most of us usually have to return to the place of previous joys and pain in order to recognise how much we’ve changed and to what extent we’ve been healed and grown closer to the Light.

So, if you are the praying type I’d deeply appreciate your prayers for a ‘successful’ trip. For those of you who’re into healing energies, please send as much as possible. My short time in Ballybrigg ought to be interesting. Hopefully, I’ll spot one like the Son Of Man walking with me in my psycho-spiritual, Irish version of the ‘Fiery Furnace’.

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The ‘S’ Word

April 1, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

The 'S' Word

The ‘S’ Word

 

Let’s face it. Christians tend to be slightly obsessive about their ‘S’ words. I can understand their fascination with the word Saviour even though the Nazarene never actually applied it to Himself. The ‘S’ word I wish to tackle today is Sin. Please let me reassure my readers who aren’t big into sin that I’m not about to bludgeon you or condemn you in what follows. You can rest easy for my old Bible bashing days are well and truly over. No, rather I want to free the term out from its religious wolves clothing and look at it with a cool and hopefully rational mind.

For religious or spiritual devotees there lie two great temptations along the Way. We can either unknowingly make sin, or the fearful avoidance of it the focus of our faith, whilst claiming the very opposite or air-brush it our of our belief system altogether by believing that it doesn’t exist in the Oneness of all.

Both are pitfalls that multitudes of believers or alternative spiritual seekers fall into on a fairly regular basis. Before I go on, I’d better show my spiritual hand by declaring that I believe Divine Love to be the over-riding Reality upon which we are designed to focus. Such a Love does and will have its way for communion with its created offspring, frail desire crazed humanity.

So what is this sin which has launched a fleet of brutal condemning sermons down the millennia? Well, the Aramaic term hataha, as used by Yeshua is rooted in the world of archery. It was shouted by an attendant when an archer missed the target in an archery competition – it also implies that the archer isn’t to fall into despair but instead take another shot. The word can also imply a wrong choice at a road junction – one has sinned when the wrong or inappropriate path is chosen. This certainly leads us away from a morality based meaning as adopted by most religious believers.

Let me dare to explain this concept of sin as a human malfunction, a seemingly natural tendency to miss the target of unconditional love, the very essence of Divine Source itself. In psychological terms may we interpret sin as the default setting of ego, our fear driven protector that always lies close to hand. Throughout religious history sin and evil have been theological bedfellows. Of course we have a common perception of evil that is a world away from the original Aramaic term. For Yeshua and his listeners evil or bisha   suggested a fruit-growing analogy. It was used for fruit that was unripe or alternatively rotten. In other words, the fruit was out of sync with its true programme for ripeness. This explanation can help us understand the puzzling story of Yeshua supposedly cursing a fig tree that hadn’t born fruit at the appropriate time. Seen in this light ego always seems to misinterpret our circumstances within time and space, fuelled by its paranoia of impending doom and destruction.

So what am I saying. Well, I reckon that sin and its twin evil are functions of our ego. This ego or wounded psyche-soul was, in its original state, a gift for protection in our space-time, an early warning system of threat to our physical survival. How did it end up skewed and malfunctioning? Well I believe that the traumas that we all experience in early childhood and beyond have caused havoc with our original psychic default settings. The withdrawal of unconditional love by our nurturers was a massive shock to our developing sense of Self and security, resulting in an extremely over active and war footing based psyche. This fall is, I believe, what lies behind the Eden myth – ‘hath God said….’ is the doubt that enters the human psyche as we are wounded by those who hereto have been our protectors and benefactors. All inappropriate acts of hitting back at perceived enemies stem from the our broken or dysfunctional ego, who has replaced Divine Love based on the early evidence of our infant or indeed womb-based experiences.

Is there any way of escape from this state of hyperactive dysfunction or sin?

I believe so.

The Nazarene came to restore and realign our psycho-spiritual default settings by welcoming ego back into the Oneness of Divine Love.

More to follow.

 

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Feeling Down?

March 22, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

Feeling Down

Feeling Down

Some days we just feel down. Within our conscious mind there doesn’t appear to be any particular reason. We just feel alone, unloved and most of all insignificant, just a collection of atoms waiting for our inevitable demise. Of course, if this goes on for any considerable length of time, we may be suffering from some form of clinical depression. However, that’s not what I wish to address in today’s wee blog. No, I just want to focus on the bog-standard,  feeling down kind of day.

May I start by suggesting that the term feeling down isn’t just a linguistic accident. It genuinely reflects how we feel. We sense that we’re at the bottom of some psycho-spiritual pile. It’s this sense that I wish to explore further.

Let’s look at this heightened feeling in terms of our dual Self , viz. psyche-soul and spirit essence. Our psyche is the part of us where we feel down. It’s not an area that’s easily understood in our day-to-day sojourn. In its fragmented and wounded state, it operates as ego, that extremely shrewd, defensive operator who seeks to protect us from further attack and rejection. It’s important to realise that ego perceives life to be a ladder. Those at the top (the winners) feel good, while those at the bottom (the losers) feel bad.

Of course, this take on reality is an illusion, but nevertheless a powerful one at that. Most of us see our relational network as this ego ladder. Everyone we meet is subconsciously slotted onto a rung by our inner desire settings. Those above us we desire to be; those beneath we shun, feeling a smug superiority that deceptively makes us feel both safe and valued. Our position on this ego ladder shifts from minute to minute – at a moment’s notice, a glance of disapproval from someone can rearrange our psyche-soul’s pecking order and its associated feelings.

The person whom we admire most on our inner ladder of self is our Model – the one we insatiably desire to be, albeit of course on a subconscious level. They appear to have the safety and power that we crave. Their desire becomes our desire as we inadvertently initiate the cloning process; allowing them into our inner world to mold us in their semi-divine image. Initially, such a possession can be exhilarating, as we perceive ourselves morphing into the one who is all that we are not. The sense of empowerment that flows from our fascination with our relational model seems to cancel out our prior feelings of inadequacy and shame.

However, over time our inner promotion on the relational ladder only leads to further problems. For, as we attach ourselves to the desired persona, our Model begins to sense the vampire-like approach of our life-sucking desire. This usually results in a dramatic shutting off of the emotional pipeline running from our desired hero to our cloned sense of self. Somehow they suddenly perceive us as a threat to their own sense of self, an invading psycho-spiritual cuckoo who wants to take over the nest of their individual being.

Of course, this break in affection hits us for six as we frantically redouble our efforts to share our Model’s elevated rung. Once more, we are pushed back, demoted down the ego ladder to a much safer position for our Model idol. And so our hyper-sensitivity to rejection is further heightened, landing us in a lower position on our ladder self than we initially occupied. Our Model has now become our Model Obstacle, the one to blame for our lowly position. In this way our emotional world quickly shrinks into a frantic battle for approval, a much sought after authentication from our now wary Model. The one we worshiped has morphed into our enemy, a love-hate relationship having been established.

Of course there’s an answer to these ego games, viz. the discovery of our other, authentic spirit Self, that inner Divine spark of inestimable value and worth. Once we willingly detach from ego’s psychic vampire hunt for the blood of approval, we discover another Self within. The Source of All resides within the dark, inner spirit chambers of our being. There the embrace and transfer of Divine affection takes place without rivalry and conflict. We have returned home to find a psycho-spiritual freedom in the embrace and welcome of Divine Love.

So, if you’re feeling a wee bit down today just look within and see if you’re climbing on the old ego ladder of relational desire. It might just be the key to stepping out from under the heavy burden of a Model Obstacle. By letting our Model Obstacle play their own ego games, and walking away, One will draw close to validate and authenticate us. Our spirit Self will be touched by Divine Love, the One without rivalry, the One we call God.

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Two In One

March 6, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

Two In One

Two In One

‘Experientially, we’re all both paradoxically unsaved and saved.

Just depends on whether we’re presently tuning into the fear fuelled illusions of ego or the perceptive inner Voice of Spirit Breath.

A duality within non duality if you like.’

Dylan Morrison

I don’t know about you, but some days there seems to be a lot of little me‘s kicking around inside this person that I call Me.

No wonder we get stressed out as our inner selves fight and argue like a bunch of  schoolyard kids fighting over the last candy bar.

Often our inner world reflects our outer world and all its conflicts. When we appear to have enemies without we have enemies within and vice versa. Bizarrely it appears that there are no boundaries as far as relational tension is concerned.

So what comes first? The outer or the inner?

May I suggest that our inner community of little sub-personalities birth or attract our outer sources of conflict. Please let me explain.

Our internal family of me‘s comprises the ‘ego’, that collection of little defenders, linked to our autonomic fight, flight or freeze nervous system. They perceive themselves to be the protectors of an illusory self that doesn’t really exist. These little guys or gals aren’t evil, just highly dysfunctional, misinterpreting the signal from our outer world that bombard them on a daily basis. Like some gang of Japanese soldiers who believe World War 2 to be still raging in the jungles of the pacific islands.

I reckon that this little inner defense force was recruited in infancy and early childhood when we encountered trauma for the first time, usually the withdrawal of unconditional love from our parents or other trusted adults. But that is a topic for another day.

So where does that leave those of us who claim we have been ‘saved’ by the person and mission of Yeshua bar Yosef, known in Christian lingo as Jesus Christ. Well let me first say that there are many facets to this restoration or ‘salvation’ to use a much overworked and clichéd religious word, dripping with much misinterpretation. Whatever this experience entails, it is indeed most certainly that, an experience. Anything that only resides in the conceptual grey matter of theological argument is not what the Nazarene was all about. Our restoration or realignment with Divine Source must be an experience, something that I believe we can feel in the caverns of our inner world. Now of course many will recoil from subjective experience, choosing instead to place their trust in the doctrinal statements of a head based faith.

Such a retreat from the subjective experience of Divine Love would be an anathema to the Nazarene and his Jewish contemporaries. The God connection, whatever it is, must, if anything, bring a subjective realignment to our total selves; body, psyche and spirit, including our central nervous systems.

Simply put the Nazarene welcomes and reconnects our ego gang of misguided defenders with the Source of All, the one referred to by him as Abba. The experience of homecoming is a standing down of our ego army, an acknowledgement that the illusory war is over and that it’s safe to lay down the weapons of self-destruction.We awaken to a new reality; that All is well and shall be well. Nothing, not even the perceived threats of our inner or outer worlds can separate us from the embrace and sustenance of Divine Love.

Ego, in all its fragmented parts is welcomed into the Home of Divine Love to meet the One that it claimed to protect for all those angst ridden years – namely our true Self, that spark of the Divine Fire that is truly us. Under the guidance of a reformed Will the two inner communities can grow into One. This is the essence of space-time salvation or wholeness healing.

Of course the stored memories of conflict can still reactivate false alarms, causing our ego components to man the psychological ramparts but still, things are different. We can quickly return to barracks realising that the threat is a phantom threat, a trick of a mind that defended itself for many decades.

So paradoxically we are dualistic creatures, often switching between the default settings of ego and Spirit. Yet as we grow in the Way of the Nazarene, we shall see that in Reality All is One, the Presence in which we live and move and have our being.

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Ego Skies

February 18, 2014 by Dylan Morrison ~ the Prodigal Prophet

Ego Skies

Ego Skies

Some days we awaken to sunshine and the reality of the Divine Love that pulsates within us. Most days we exit our slumbers to feel a cloud lie over the landscape of our being; a psycho-spiritual layer that is neither joyous nor depressing, just ordinary. Living in these apparently physical  bodies in the midst of a soul filtered reality, ordinary usually seems the norm. Yet high above the cloud cover of our day-to-day lives lies a great Mystery, a Source whose desire has birthed our oft plodding journey from birth to old age and beyond.

So why are things so ordinary and often boringly difficult?

Well I reckon that Divine Love has allowed it to be that way. Please let me explain. The cloud cover in question is the sunscreen of ego, that which mischievously blocks out the Timeless Rays of Divine Source. To permanently live in the manifestation of the One we call God would be to burn up, leaving only the spirit spark deposited in the oyster shell of our sense of Being. Allowing ego to do its thing is actually a blessing in disguise. Of course ego doesn’t see its power plays being utilised and integrated into the Divine Will. It believes itself to be a rebel who will one day do away with Source for good, creating a well-rounded and independent human being. Yet even this delusion is allowed for it drives ego in its frantic efforts to be free.

No, Divine Love, is quite happy for us to pass many of our days under the cloud cover of ego’s ways as we journey through life.

Why?

Well, given time and space ego will drive us to our knees, exhausted by its efforts to control and regulate our psycho-spiritual health. At the appropriate time, our personal cloud will break, if only temporarily, to allow the shocking Light to break into the dark, lonely caverns of the Soul. Ego is powerless against the Light, the contact of Source and sourced. Once touched by the heat of the Divine Fire, there is no longer a mundane, boring life struggle, for we have seen what lies Beyond.

As ego recovers to spin its yarns of superheated imagination and spiritual delusion we can afford a wry smile. No longer are we trapped under the power of its ‘ordinary’ spin, for now we know. We are not ordinary. We are the offspring of Ultimate Reality. Such a knowledge cannot be learned or accumulated from religious or spiritual texts, nor their interpretive dispensers. It has to be experienced.

Thankfully, Divine Love is content to wait its time. No frustration lies within the Heart of the One we call God. So let’s embrace our ordinariness today as we experience our ego spun illusion, knowing that we know better. We have seen as we are seen and carry within us the eyes of a New World, that referred to as ‘The Kingdom/Queendom’ by the One who claimed ‘I Am the Light of the World’. 

Have a great day! 🙂

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