The Ego’s Eden
With all the work to get the monastery rebuilt and re-organized, I haven’t posted much personal material recently, but those of you who’ve been listening to my classes know I’ve been going through quite a powerful process in the past two months. At times it has been profoundly tender, touching, and serene. And at other times terrifying.
This past weekend at the Foundation — and the night after I got back — was really difficult for me, so I thought now would be a good time to post this poem I’ve been writing recently. I used the picture above as my, uh, inspiration.
The Ego’s Eden:
Red ripe temptation,
plucked from stormy sky,
and carefully cradled
in the poisoned palm of my lunacy.
Here, in this unshapely sphere,
all incessant Luster is lustily banished,
forbidden and, finally, forgotten,
by a thin, tiny rib of fear.
In this barren plot, uprooted,
a distorted dark promise of dominion
and its sinister siren blinds me,
so I behold only my self, beholden.
Hypnotic, narcotic, is this Narcissus,
a powerfully binding, Promethean image;
from the center of the earth it rises,
unshackled from the sweet soiled darkness.
Dark eve of naked madness,
I give my Self to thee, unrestrained,
willfully, wantonly, inflamed,
beneath the black veil, betrothed.
Oh, insatiable, biting torment of need!
This burning, bottomless pit bedevils!
It beckons, plagues and pesters!
Unbridled eons
of greed and grasping.
Engorged and groaning,
I yet entreat from the swiney trough,
“More! …More!!”
until so grievously glutted,
I am leaden,
ashen-eyed,
unpurged;
a corpulent corpse,
barely breathing.
And still, oh still, this rabid yearning?!
Oh bright burning madness,
be thee away!
Oh mish-mashed strokes of madness,
be thee away!
Oh cruel, cruel cauldron of madness,
be thee away!
Lucifer’s last supper,
and whetted carving knife,
hew the fetid feast
everlasting.
Alas, this wicked wind of evil
still whips and cracks,
and twists and twists
’round my head,
till all hope and reason lies
dizzily disfigured,
dismembered, disguised,
in ruinous violence torn
in tatters and briny tears,
disassembled, shorn.
Feverish! Frenzied! Affright!
I pelt through the savage field.
Bramble, thorn, my ruthless crown
of wandering dread.
Help! Help!
My marrow screams, mocking
in mouthless ‘marish scorn,
“There is no end in sight for the sightless!”
Oh terrible blear!
Disconsolate drear!
Oh dark disdain!
The black blanket whelms!
Horror! Horror!
From the kneeling knell,
rolls the gravid clang of death
‘cross the breached threshold of tolerance,
as hope gives way to hopelessness.
And from this trembling trestle
I finally offer my now empty hand anew,
and feel Your saving grasp,
instantly pluck me from this roiling stew.
June 20th, 2009 at 3:06 pm
Beautiful poem, dear Monk. Deeply felt, to say the least. I cannot say I want to go through a process such as this (a dark night?), but from what I was recently told, few escape it. Oh well. Yet I truly appreciate you sharing your process with us. I see how although it gets extremely difficult and painful at times, you continue to make it through and find your peace again. I find that very reassuring. Thank you….
June 20th, 2009 at 3:58 pm
You are such a gifted messenger. And unafraid to lay yourself, your emotions bare. Thank you so much for sharing.
June 20th, 2009 at 6:21 pm
..and in those last lines, the empty hands and peace again. Thank you, dear monk, for sharing this darkness and then hope.
June 20th, 2009 at 6:43 pm
I found it very difficult to read more than a few lines; eyes darting back and forth; hand scrolling down; mind seeking escape…..
June 20th, 2009 at 7:20 pm
Thank you so much for sharing with us your process and give us the opportunity to learn that we are not alone. That those terrifying feelings and thoughts are the content of the ego mind, I am not alone in this deep feeling of aloneness, and there is where hope rest, because If I am not the only who experience this, then, I am not alone, and this uncovers the lie of the ego that we are separate selves. We are only one because we all experience the same deep longing and emptyness. Thank you for open your mind to Jesus and give us such a poem, its more than a poem, its the experience of all of us when we choose the ego instead of him, but now, there is hope. thanks.
June 20th, 2009 at 10:36 pm
ACIM Monk,
This poem (to me…) reveals the sincerity of your commitment to seeing the reality of the ego, and how it forms the foundation of this world, and how it screams with hatred and madness. Few of us are brave enough to explore the ego in all its hideous glory. I began the Course denying that I had any guilt within me, for example. This was the standard middle American mindset, perhaps epitomized by the classic quote “What? ME worry?” Moi? “Hi, [putting forward a firm handshake] I am Will Christie, and I’ve got it all together!”
Yet, the same ego that gives us this type of smiley-face wallpaper, also creates the cold perspiring walls upon which the smiley-face weakly hangs. With study of the Course, we are able to take a deep breath and rip down that damp wallpaper, facing the harsh reality. Instead of Brad Pitt smiling back at us from the mirror, we see Freddy Kruger! Coming to terms with this takes a season or a life time. The ego can do its best to promise us “healing” via amnesia. “Just forget the ugliness. Everything is just fine. Smile. Be Happy.”
Thank you for your bravery in sharing what we each must go through, when we (as Ken says) do the necessary work of actually seeing the ego. This process can be like wrestling with a python. We cannot do it alone. That way leads to clinical depression and even madness. That road needs a sign that warns “Do not Take this Path Alone!”
We must reach out, as you note, for help. Then perhaps we can say to the ego “Do your worst” with a sanguine smile, and know that we are talking to a mirage, a non-entity that vanishes in the light of a Holy Instant. Yet, we hear the whisper “I’ll be back”, and know that the ego is never vanquished until we return Home.
June 20th, 2009 at 11:15 pm
Jeez!…..move over Shakespeare
June 21st, 2009 at 5:52 am
“I finally offer my now empty hand anew,
and feel Your saving grasp,
instantly pluck me from this roiling stew.”
Yes.
What i want You to pluck me from, is my belief that this ego is real. When I am graced with the ability to just look and not judge, it melts. Nothing is more delicious. Love, I want your sight.
June 21st, 2009 at 7:17 am
Grrrr! Very moving. Best wishes from Devon as you move through your pain :-)
June 21st, 2009 at 8:13 am
Don’t eat apples! They rot and ferment in your mind. Plus they have worms in them. Into eternity where all is One, crept that tiny mad idea. Poof – be gone – they have no power here!
Very good, Monk.
June 21st, 2009 at 9:34 am
And finally my tears came on reading your poem. So badly needed in my own dark night(mare) that I have been feeling for a number of days, and yet completely unexpected. I am truly not alone. And these tears are melting my heart. Thanks for your courage to share the pain of guilt as well as the inevitable joy dear Monk.
June 21st, 2009 at 11:18 am
Wow…dastardly descriptive! Anyone out there thinking this stuff is not for the faint of heart? Maybe we used to be faint of heart. Possibly, we like to think so. But no more. We look. Safety in numbers? Yes, I think so. Blessings to all who look. Blessings to you, Jamie, who gives us courage to do so.
June 21st, 2009 at 12:11 pm
Yesterday I had a terrible dream. One that recurs very often since I was a child, different forms (about my awful relation with my mother) same content. I half awoke, feeling anxious and defeated, when suddenly, all emotion came to and end and the only thing I have in front of me was the words: “I finally offer my now empty hand anew, and feel your saving grasp”.
That was the last sentence I read last night before going to bed. Jesus has his helpers and you are a very good one. Thanks a lot.
June 21st, 2009 at 1:47 pm
like ACIM was scribed by Helen from Jesus with Shakespearean (is that a word?:-)) influence, this poem was beautifully written to make sense to all who study the course
June 22nd, 2009 at 2:01 pm
Powerful Jamie, thanks for this,
B
June 22nd, 2009 at 10:06 pm
I had a neat(?) experience yesterday in which I got further in touch with how much I am attracted to pain. I saw the silliness of it, felt okay knowing it was there, but not sure how or where to proceed. Sometimes I feel so alone on this path, but the real burden/release point is finally understanding that this is all self-chosen.
Needless to say, I skimmed through the poem and didn’t really retain anything it said. Maybe I’ll come back to it sometime soon. Thanks for being a light.
NB
June 24th, 2009 at 1:15 pm
I don’t want to go through the hell you have described, yet I have. I am. I will. I just don’t want to admit my choice to be that awful “thing”. How have I managed to do this to the One that Heaven cherishes, the angels adore, and Which was created perfect? How does one get to the point of being able to admit that this is what I have wanted? Even as I write this I feel an assurance that I haven’t really accomplished what I set out to be, do and think about myself. I am mistaken, that is all. “Please help me to really know how wrong I am”. I adore my Monk time. Thanks again.
June 28th, 2009 at 5:39 pm
This is exactly what my addiction to overeating is like….and yes I do put a smiley face on it. I guess it’s time to quit looking at my food addiction through rose colored glasses. And see the egos gift to me for what it really is, the walking dead.
From the song Sundown by Gordon Lightfoot come this line that I have always felt talked to me and now even more than ever….”Sometimes I think its a sin, When I feel like I’m winnin when Im losin again”. That’s my ego’s favorite trick, tricking me into thinking I’m winning when he’s really just taking me deeper into the much.