How can you see the splinter in your brother’s eye while you have chunks within your own?
21.First take the chunks from out your eye and then you may behold the splinter in your brother’s eye and help him take it out,
22. And while your eyes are full of foreign things you cannot see the way, for you are blind,
23. And when the blind lead forth the blind, both lose the way and fall into the slough.
24. If you would lead the way to God you must be clear in sight, as well as pure in heart.
-Aquarian Gospel of Jesus the Christ 100: 20-24
Zed attempted to kill me instead of allowing the journey to free my friend to unfold. The question that needed to be asked is freed from what? Something was blocking me. In some religions, they call it sin. In other forms of spiritualism, it is the ego or the shadow that derails you out of the flow of creation. Is this what the Thor entity represented to my friend?
Ancient Rabbi Jesus of Nazareth taught about the log in your own eye while you picked at another friend’s sin. The challenge on not being able to see yourself or what is going wrong because there is always someone else you can say “at least I am no them” or “at least its not that.” Completely missing the point that those chunks floating around within your own eye are clouding your soul. Is this the journey, better yet the grail quest I am on now? To be able to remove the chunks from my own eye? Release my ego and re-enter the flow properly? Is that where this journey is leading.
Susan is lightly snoring on the sofa when I re-enter the house, Pen is still on my shoulder purring…yes, I realize it is weird to think that a dragon would purr, but the gaffer is species fluid. I pull up the afghan on to her. She mumbles slightly and turns her head into my bruised knuckles. After all these years, you would think I would learn how to throw a punch that wouldn’t hurt so much? Check that I am used to throwing punches in mystical armour, but Zed had shown something is going down, and I need to figure out how to bridge the gap.
It is almost impulsive to rub my own eyes as I slump on the floor by her head. The light in the hall way lights the way to the girls’ room. My two empaths that can give you a clear read on any person in the world and their intention. It is one of the blessings that come with there being differently abled.
Susan stirs. “Rick did you…”
“Zed attempted to kill me.”
I let that statement hang in the air. Not exactly something she was expecting to hear, but not shocking enough to fully awake my dozing wife. Though I guess she has come to the same conclusion that I did, this immortal wants to seek revenge against the antagonist entity, or is there something else? Since the ashram beat down that teaching of Brother Jesus has been bouncing around in my brain the chunks I am looking through to hyper focus on the speck. What is the speck?
“The speck is John’s ghost.” Susan mumbles before turning back over to sleep.
The speck is John’s ghost.
What are the chunks in my own eyes?
Time to go back to the grave, the fist chunk is my own grief.
Pen slips quietly into my coat pocket as I once again leave the house locking the door behind me. Towards the cemetery to clear the chunks from my own eyes to clearly see. See what?
Grail quest. For some it was the cup of Christ, that which he drank from at the Last Supper, that which Judas and Peter, the yin-yang of the Holy Week happenings shared communion with the Lord. Sought by the supposed source I am resurrected from when I speak my mantra, Arthur PenDragon who searched many years for the Grail. Yet more recently some have supposed that the Grail was the Sacred Feminine, or even the ancient line of Christ himself as carried through his bride in gnostic teachings of Mary Magdalene, who it is believed by legend fled to France post resurrection.
But where does this lead me? Except into a foggy old cemetery at night. Standing before the grave marker of my friend. John MacCurtis. Needing to dive back into the divine flow to truly see where he is resting. To release his soul into resurrection or release? What choice will he make? Pen stirs again as I kneel on the damp ground.
The cross of life, or as some would know it as an Ankh on the ground digging into the ground of the grave. The Latin comes through my connection to Pen. The chunks have fallen away as the incantation concludes and lightning flashes in my eyes.
Time to re-enter Camelot a place I thought long destroyed but that is the revelation for the grail is beyond the veil and the cross of life reveals the face of my friend.
One last time into the breach.
Lightning crashes the ground.
Across the city, a woman with blue flame streaked hair sits upright fully awake on a couch. “Come home to me Rick or by God I will kill you.” A lone tear trickles down her face for fear this may be the one time she won’t be the grail he seeks to come home through.
To Be Continued…