Archive for the ‘Mythology’ Category
Green Man, Earth Angel
We must descend fully into the real, messy world, and not stop short of the real individuals who make it up. We get so constricted! So many are afraid to think about the world because only Scientists can do that. So many are afraid of their innate creativity because [...]
Finding Wisdom among the White Mountain Masters
Once in the Jurassic about 150 million years ago, the Great Sun Buddha in this corner of the Infinite Void gave a Discourse to all the assembled elements and energies: to the standing beings, the walking beings, [...]
A DESCENT TO THE UNDERWORLD
The fierce Sicilian sun beats down on the white marbles of the ancient necropolis, enveloped in a vast silence occasionally pierced by the mating songs of cicadas. Dotted by a lonely sail, the Mediterranean shimmers in the distance, unruffled by the cypress scented breeze. Now I hear a distant murmur of human voices. It originates from a vine enclosed bower, at the tip of a narrow tongue of land that affords the unobstructed view of the bay. A few persons can be seen, seated at a long table covered by a white cloth; bread,fruit,and calices of red wine enliven its immaculate expanse. A subdued conversation is in progress, which peters out as they become aware of my presence. Which does not appear to startle them: the astonishment is all mine, as I find myself among long lost friends of my youth. I am moved beyond words by this unexpected encounter. My friends eagerly enquire about my life, but gently deflect my own queries. They have changed but little over the years: their physical appearance barely altered, they seem to have become more thoughtful and considerate, but that is all. And then it dawns on me that all these friends but one (whom I shall call James) died years ago. This is a banquet of the dead, and I am invited to partake of their victuals. I am not alarmed, because the scene, and my presence in it, have nothing sinister about it; calm, serenity, and detachment prevail.
Slowly the air darkens, the sun a steadily diminishing crimson sliver beyond the watery horizon. One by one my friends leave the bower, bidding me a silent farewell. James seems uncertain as to whether he should join me or the departing friends. This worries me. I Patiently wait for him to accompany me, but am eventually overcome by an urge to leave the deserted enclosure, and hurriedly retrace my steps through the labyrinthine necropolis, now turned alien and forbidding.
This dream was recounted to me by an older man, intrigued by this unexpected descent to Hades. He added that the next day he got in touch with James, whom he had not heard of in a long while. He found him cheerful, and in good health. Evidently, James’s presence among his other departed friends was not to be taken as ominous.
Less than two weeks later, he learned that James had died: in the night, of a heart attack, as he was about to begin a long awaited trip to Italy.
CARL ROGERS ON LIFE AFTER DEATH
Most readers acquainted with contemporary psychology would agree that Carl Rogers (1902-1987) was one of the most influential psychologist of the century just past. In an autobiographical note written when he was 75 years old, Rogers observed that death was not looming large in his thoughts. The meaningfulness of his life, he felt, was not threatened by the prospect of death. Though inclining towards the view that death constitutes the terminus of personal existence, he refused to construe this as a tragic or awful prospect: ‘I have been able to live my life not to the full, cer¬tainly, but with a satisfying degree of fullness and it seems natural that my life should come to an end. I already have a degree of immortality in other persons. I have sometimes said that, psychologically, I have strong sons and daughters all over the world. Also, I believe that the ideas and the ways of being that I and others have helped to develop will continue, for some time at least. So if I, as an individual, come to a complete and final end, aspects of me will still live on in a variety of growing ways, and that is a pleasant thought. (Rogers, 1989, p. 49).’*
This serenely secular view was tempered somewhat by the serious consideration he felt compelled to give to Elisabeth Kubler Ross’s affirmative conclusions about life after death, and to Moody’s research on the near-death experience. In sum, Rogers concluded, “I consider death with, I believe, an openness to the expe¬rience. It will be what it will be, and I trust I can accept it as either an end to, or a continuation of, life” (Rogers, p. 50).
About two years later, however, Rogers wrote: In the eighteen months prior to my wife’s death in March 1979, there were a series of experiences in which Helen and I and a number of friends were all involved, which decidedly changed my thoughts and feelings about dying and the contin¬uation of the human spirit. (Ibid., 1989, p. 51). These experiences, barely hinted at, were of a paranormal character, and impressive enough to induce Rogers to “consider it possible that each of us is a continuing spiritual essence lasting over time, and occasionally incarnated in a human body” (Rogers, 1989, p. 53). A decidedly interesting statement from a man of considerable intellectual stature and profound personal integrity.
* Rogers, C. R. (1989). Growing old: Or older and growing. In H. Kirschenbaum and V. Henderson (Eds.), The Carl Rogers Reader. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company.
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