I love the image that was chosen for the newest message from Adamus, DreamWalk of Realization. It was a challenge to find the right graphic for that one; how do you illustrate something so simple and undefinable as remembering yourself? We kicked around a lot of ideas until finally, at the last possible minute, the maze image appeared and somehow felt just right. During the scramble to finalize the graphic, create the intro, and make the finished product available on Adamus’ deadline, I kept looking at that maze. What was it that made the image so perfect? The staff didn’t discuss it beyond agreeing “Yes, that’s good,” but there’s a reason it felt ideal.
We use the circumpunct – literally “encircled dot” – to represent consciousness; the Self surrounded by our own experience-generating energy. There is literally nothing beyond it. Whatever we perceive is, by the very act of perception, contained within – encircled by – our own energy, whether we’re aware of that fact or not. In my opinion, the image of a “circumpunct maze” is a beautiful example of Self masquerading as a human here on Earth.
Here’s how I see it. In the desire for experience, we literally created the “maze” of Earth and human life as a way to hide from our Self in order to have adventures and ordeals that would otherwise be impossible. Why do people go to a cornfield maze where the whole point is to get lost? For the fun of the experience and the satisfaction of finding their way out. They meet other maze-goers along the way, exchange tidbits of information, share and compare experiences, argue about which direction is the "right" one, but then keep going on their own journey. In reality they could “escape” at any time, but that would spoil the fun and bypass the very experience they wanted to have.
Side note (to self): This is exactly why it’s useless to try to convince someone else of your truth, no matter how amazing it might be to you. Until they are ready to be done with their own maze experience, the exit sign looks like gibberish – if they can even perceive it.
The thing about this “maze” is that it’s all you. In other words, you aren’t really lost or disconnected. You the human are contained within your own Self, so how could you be lost? Whether you’re at the furthest edges of the maze or smack in the center, it’s still all YOU. There’s nothing to find and no need to escape; a simple shift of perspective will reorient everything. In the meantime, the ever-changing maze provides a lot of, well, experience.
Now, it’s important to acknowledge that the experience of being lost and separate is very, very real. If you’re surrounded by high walls and can’t see around the next blind corner, it’s useless to declare that “It’s all an illusion.” Maybe it is, but that’s not the current experience! Human takes for granted the solidity of the walls, which means a million “wrong” turns and blind alleys as we try to get out. Yet the very act of working our way through the maze keeps continually creating it. The path is self-generating beneath our feet and every step makes it that much longer. What if the walls, even the path itself, can simply be dissolved? I guess that would be a mixed blessing, because the human really likes puzzles to solve. But at some point, it is enough.
Here’s what I sense: The bricks of our internal maze are made of time – future and past – and are bound together with the sticky mortar of guilt and shame. Every turn, whether “wrong” or “right,” installs another layer of these ever-present building materials. I had an experience a couple weeks ago that demonstrated this to me very clearly.
I took a few days off last month to recuperate from the events of our extraordinary Summer of Realization, and part of my rejuvenation included a small-ish landscaping project in front of the house. It involved lots of digging and moving a bunch of very large rocks and timbers. After a couple days of this heavy-duty but satisfying work, my arms were vigorously complaining. (It’s possible that nosy neighbors might have heard a faint holler, “Dammit Sart, where’s your magic shovel?!”) A few days later, every molecule from shoulders to fingertips still felt like it was on fire and I was fed up. “Come on body,” I said out loud, “you can do better than this! You know how to rebalance, why is this taking so long?”
As if it was just waiting for the question, body responded immediately with memories of trauma in other lifetimes – being crushed, bound, beaten, even pulled apart (humans sure get creative in coming up with ways to torment each other). Ugh. Aren’t we done with this old stuff yet? Surely most of us have had past lives of excommunication, interrogation, torture and death simply for being who we are, and a lot of this stuff in my own history has already come up for release. But my body was apparently hosting some aspects still caught up in pain. This day, however, the story didn’t end there.
I breathed, and the next question came. Why did I allow such anguish to be inflicted on my human self? I didn’t have to; I could have avoided those incarnations, hidden from the authorities, testified something else, whatever. Why, as a creator being, did I put myself through that? And with that question came the answer I didn’t know I’d been seeking.
More flashes of the past appeared, but now from a different perspective. I saw myself full of deep, passionate zeal for “the truth,” for helping spread the gospel and grow God’s holy Church. But in that fervor, I lost sight of compassion, love, forgiveness. Blinded by the belief that salvation could only be attained like “gold tried in the fire,” I spent lifetimes engaged in appallingly misguided attempts to “purify” those under my authority. Too bitter for memory until now, those parts of me condoned and even encouraged tormenting the physical bodies of “sinners” in order to cleanse their souls for heaven. Doesn’t a seed have to be buried in order to sprout? Isn’t new life birthed through blood and screaming pain? Doesn’t the Bible itself demand cleansing fire to produce pure gold, a bloody sacrifice for salvation? With countless doctrinal justifications for such atrocity and the theological “righteousness” of abject brutality, only much later would the horror creep in with icy comprehension of what I’d really done.
Do you wonder where guilt and shame might be hiding? Our stories are each unique, but take a look at the lifetimes spent establishing the Church. Yes, we got a bit over-enthusiastic in Atlantis, but compared to that, this stuff was just yesterday. This lifetime even. I remember so many theological discussions growing up and how nearly anything could be justified if it was deemed “God’s will.” I remember playing out make-believe games with my cousins, reenacting as a child some of the foul things carried in my cellular memory. This ugliness was not just some abstract vapor from the distant past; it was right here, fresh in my memory and present in my body. No wonder things hurt.
Layer upon layer locked it all in. Personal torment was clearly deserved, thanks to preceding evil cloaked as righteousness; twisted rationalizations of a mind steeped in doctrine and fueled by the unquenchable thirst for union with God – for reunion with my Self. What a tangled web we weave…
Oh, time for a deep breath. Occupied with tasks and errands as this unfolded within, I continued about my day, until evening came at last. My time for integration. With a tremendous amount of breathing, feeling, allowing, tears and compassion, I let whatever was there come to the surface to be felt and received. Waves of horror, compassion, anger, understanding, hatred, love took their turns flowing through me.
Breathe. Nothing to fix, nothing to change, nothing for which to atone. It was that it was.
At last, a tentative equilibrium beginning to return, I saw the different parts of myself and how they had served me so diligently. The pious leader, the humble wife, the passionate seer, the sister in flames – all these expressions and experiences brought me to this very moment of understanding. In the greatest compassion, I went to each of them, scattered through time and life but sharing the common thread of a fervent thirst for truth. Gently touching each one as it appeared, I simply said, “Come. Your search is over. Come.” One by one, these steadfastly devoted parts of me found release. Wisdom flooded home.
Interestingly, when I woke the next morning, the burning pain in my body was gone. No physical remedies had helped much because I was wandering in a maze of stuck energy; bricks of the past held in place by shame and oh, so much guilt. It took a lot of allowing and trust to realize the truth, but in doing so my body could release its burden.
In this maze of the I Am, there is ultimately nowhere to arrive at, no journey to complete. We think there’s something to find, an end goal to realize, but we’re already here. We built up the walls to play the game of hide and seek, but they aren’t nearly as solid as they appear. With the breath of allowing and embrace of compassion, they simply melt into the light of awareness. And we find ourselves right where we started – at home in our own energy, now overflowing with wisdom of the deepest and darkest and brightest adventures. There is no maze, no problems to solve, no salvation to find. Believing we are unworthy, lost and in pain is how we keep the maze in existence. But it’s our own creation; we can evaporate the walls at any time.
This is a favorite passage from the end of the book which has brought me so much misery and enlightenment: The Spirit and the bride say, “Come.” Let anyone who hears this say, “Come.” Let anyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone who desires drink freely from the water of life. (Revelation 22:17)
Said another way: The I Am and beloved human say, “Come.” Let anyone who hears this say “Come.” Let every hungry, thirsty aspect of my Self come and freely accept the water of my life.
Isn’t it interesting that the final words of the Bible simply invite us to receive the gift of life? Not earn it, not atone for anything, not figure it out or get it right, but simply let down the walls and receive.
We have always been worthy.