Dear Friend,
I set the alarm on my phone for a hour’s sleep in. My body awoke of it’s own accord before the appointed time. It took a moment to remember that today is a holiday, at least here in the UK and in our home. You know that delicious feeling of melting into half awake, half asleep dreamless rest.
In this state I turned my thoughts to Jesus, who I relate to as a teacher, friend and elder brother. A protector and guide. Always present.
I have no desire to proselytise. This relationship has developed over the course of many lifetimes. It came with me into this one. It’s taken time for it to be become as direct and simple as it is for me today. To begin with there was the embarrassment to overcome of believing in the presence of the unseen, unobservable, unscientific.
As a child it was easier. Then I didn’t have an image of who I thought I was. The false self, having only a few scraps of experience to stitch together, let in ample light. Love was close and poured through me into my tiny universe.
There was no world back then to speak of. What did exist came with me. A blade of grass, ants in the sun, the way concrete set like lumpy porridge around the base of the metal post in our back garden. The tartness of raw rhubarb dipped in a cup of refined sugar. The way the sugar crystals sparkled in the sun. Watching my feet as I ran. Before the creation of the world.
The one I made up.
That child-like innocent trust in the goodness of life, had to be lost before it could be found again. Just realising now why I call this blog the Lost & Found Dept.
The meaning of Jesus’s crucifixion I couldn’t understand for the longest time. It upset me so much as a kid thinking about the brutality of it. The worst part were the nails, the crown of thorns and the beatings he took. Being spat on as he was publicly tortured. On the rare occasions where a crucified Christ would be on display I would, and still do turn away. The image has not lost its power.
I could not understand why lovers of Christ would want to keep the symbol of such horror on display.
Today is Good Friday, which feels like the right time to go into it.
Whether or not you believe that a man like Jesus lived, I can’t know. If you don’t I get it. So many false claims have been made in his name. He taught peace, yet has been used to justify murder and war. Was a modest and simple man, yet is celebrated in gold and lavish displays of wealth. The power he spoke of was divine and yet some of those who claim his authority do so in the service of materialism and political influence.
The image of the gentle, honest man of compassion being tortured points at our experiences of suffering in a world of delusory desires. Attached to the temporal, temporary dimension of material form we suffer as it is torn from us.
The symbolic meaning of the crucifixion and the resurrection is powerful if we realise that we are not primarily material beings. We are eternal spirit. We suffer in this world and our pleasures, if we seek them exclusively in material plane, slip through our fingers like sand.
Not to say there is no beauty in the world. Friends, loved ones, nature, art, music, the world is full of joy. Words cannot do justice to the infinite play of creative energy.
The resurrection is a teaching story that makes concrete the eternal nature of our deepest nature as spirit. There is no death in spirit, only the material dimension of our identity perishes, returns to the earth.
Is it just or story or did Jesus recreate his physical form so it could be recognised by his friends and followers? I can only offer my opinion based on personal experience.
When mam died the light figures who came to greet her took the form of people mam recognised. Also, in my twenties I had two experiences of people who had passed appearing in physical form in front of me.
The first was my Nana.
I’d returned from a visit to London, this was when I lived in Sheffield. I’d hitch hiked there and back and met a series of spiritually minded people.
The first was a muslim man who spoke about Jinn. He was a gardener. He gleefully detailed how he worked with Jinn on his garden, how his neighbours struggled with his super natural explanations for the lushness and vibrancy of his plants.
For me it was too much to take in.
The next lift was from a born again Christian. At that time I was studying with Sheik Nazim and practicing Sufism. Describing our spiritual experiences we both realised we were talking about the same thing. The form different, the underlying principles the same.
The final lift on this trip was with a man who’d had extensive experiences crossing over to the other side. He’d been born with pronounced psychic ability and from being a child had interacted with the astral plane.
When I got home from that trip I decided to get in touch with Nana. I focused on her and terrified myself as she began to take physical form in front of me. I stopped and put it out of my mind. It was confusing and I felt strange about it for a long time.
When I moved to London at the end of the 1990’s I went through a phase of entering almost semi trance like states where I would wander the city, taking it all in. We’d moved close to the site where an angel appeared to William Blake. There was a piece of street art that marked the site. In that house I experienced astral travel, where I flew over the city one night.
One day I wandered into a cinema in Leicester Square. At the end of the movie a figure suddenly appeared in the seat next to me. The person was as real and seemed as solid as anyone else in the place. He looked as I would imagine Jesus to look. Dark hair, brown eyes and olive skin. Plainly dressed. “I just wanted you to see that” he said.
I looked back at the screen and the figure vanished.
I kept that to myself for decades. How do you make sense if these expeiences without assuming you are losing your mind?
Is it possible a master such as Jesus would leave his body and then recreate a new one at will?
In my view, yes.
Is it important to convince others of it? No.
I had to learn with eastern teachers of mysticism to return to the western tradition with greater understanding. Now I celebrate the unity that breathes life into all spiritual traditions.
For me Easter is a time of rest. A holy day.
Take only what you need. Whatever helps you through.
Carve out some time to be with yourself.
We are all so busy. Even ten minutes of calm reflection on the good things in our lives.
A cup of something to drink.
A moment of peace.
It’s all one.
However we come to it.
Till tomorrow
Love
Mikey