With that, did my soul grab hold of my hand, to lead me out of the pit of despair.

“Where’ve you been?“ I chided her, as I caught sight of her in the light at the end of the tunnel.

“I’ve been down in the dumps with you,“ she insisted, “scrounging around for clues to the nature of our being.“

“Why haven’t I seen you before now?“ I persisted.

“You were so infatuated with Despair,“ she replied, “you couldn’t take your eyes off her. Until my father started feeding you insight into some of the old myths that’d been relegated to the trash heap, you were hopelessly lost to her. That’s why.“

“We now know,“ interjected my mentor, “that your real identity lies just beyond our grasp, somewhere between the inner ’n’ outer circumstances of your life, waiting to reveal itself to you the instant these two seemingly irreconcilable realities come to the same realization. For it is written, my son, as the Word became flesh, so must the flesh become Word, and the two of them, one, before the identity of the Original Being is revealed. In other words, must you give flesh to your thoughts, and thought to your feelings, to gain insight into Who You Really Are.“

We have been born solely for the benefit of each other, for the purpose of raising every individual, or aspect of the body of mankind, from our animal roots, to create a whole new branch on the evolutionary tree of life. To create this new species of truly human beings, we must give ourselves completely, not only to each other, but to every aspect of creation, like the leaves on a great tree. So do we, as we die to our selves year after year, make the greatest contribution toward resurrecting the image of God still trapped in the wood of the tree.

Only, I saw my life in the Navy as a step back into the nightmarish prehistory of mankind, where the still invisible image of God lay hidden within unconscious life forms. Since these life forms bore little resemblance to the Creator, many of them were scrapped in a supreme effort to create a being made entirely in the image ’n’ likeness of the Original Being. And so did God, with the evolution of our species, elect to turn the task over to us, to complete. In our inability to let go of our animal heritage, did we fall from the evolutionary tree, to a level of existence that lay beneath our true dignity.

With the development of our capacity to think, were we freed from a purely instinctive response to the images of the imagination. Whereas our ancestors had been programmed to unconsciously mimic what they saw in the images that cropped up to guide them, we took the first conscious step in the creation of the image ’n’ likeness of God in the flesh. As the beneficiaries of millions of years of evolution, did we stumble upon the means to become aware of ourselves.

Out of the void, that has occupied the head since time immemorial, did we catch wind, one day, of a whisper on the breath of a gentle breeze. As the wind spoke to us, we sensed that a momentous change was about to take place in our bodies. We’d been reprogrammed. No longer were we to take the images of the imagination, literally.

As Adam, was I overcome by an instinctive desire to penetrate the hole which had opened up before me. Sucked into the spiritual vacuum of the void that now stood between me ’n’ the truth, did I fall victim to a rapidly unfolding stream of images. There was I confronted by the unfathomable wisdom of my heart, in the guise of a naked woman. When my rod extended itself out from my body, like a serpent, its head from a tree, I lost my head—this newly won ability of mine to choose the real thing over its image. Out of ignorance, did I mistake the act of procreation for that of creating consciousness. I was bamboozled by Instinct into believing I would become all knowing, like the Creator, if I tasted the fruit of a sexual encounter with this image of God. Ignoring the admonition to avoid taking these images literally, did I cave into the gentle persuasion of the woman of my dreams. Thrusting my self into this fantasy, I gave my self up to her completely. As I came, I saw heaven penetrate the earth and sow the seeds for the creation of a whole new species of animal, one made in the image and likeness of God. On the Eve of my humanity, in the arms of a real flesh ’n’ blood woman, did I wake up to my own naked truth—that I had just participated in the conception of consciousness.

Confronted by the still invisible image of God, I realized my mistake. Immediately, I blamed the woman who then laid the blame on Instinct, for it was he who had filled our bodies with the desire to become as one again, like God. As half a man, had I lost my head over the very heart, she had just deferred to the wrongheaded views of Instinct. And so did I learn that Instinct could no longer be trusted.

Instantly, I realized He spoke in a language peculiar to all of mankind, and yet as different as every individual who has ever lived, for this babble was meant to confuse all but the one in whose tongue he spoke. To keep from losing touch with Who I Really Am, I had no choice then, but to listen to the One Voice, as it painstakingly pointed out to me the way I must go. Otherwise, I would only find confusion.

“Few like what he has to say,“ proclaimed some strange ensemble from across the void.

“They might learn what He really wants of them,“ I thought to myself, “which may conflict with their own agendas. As out of touch as they are with their feelings—the original language of mankind—they are incapable of seeing through the great darkness that has descended upon us and thrown our world into a tailspin.“

“Like a schizophrenic,“ he went on to say, “had the right hand of man lost touch with the left one, when the right began to pay homage to those individuals whose central focus in life revolved entirely around the self and no one else. Having created a new god on Mt. Olympus, that is, within the psyche of man, did the right proceed to amass for its self, so much of the power ’n’ wealth of the world, it left an incredibly huge vacuum or black hole from which then arose the god of the left, or worship of the collective—to the complete denigration of the individual. In the rush to serve these gods, did the hands of men fabricate two titans, one to the east, the other to the west, to rule over themselves. In place of the one Lord Who had ruled over the hearts ’n’ minds of men since time immemorial, now stood the images of an old business tycoon and his nemesis, the bear. Since the world could ill afford to support one titan, much less two, there arose such a clamor between the two of them, for the souls of men, that many lives were needlessly lost in the struggle to find a military solution to the psychological problems of mankind—this schizophrenic split in man’s collective psyche.“

“To find healing for the terrible rift that divides us,“ proclaimed Jinny, “you need only turn to me. Embrace me as of old, and I will show you the way to true happiness. Refuse me, and I will unleash upon you the madness that engulfed your fathers.“

And so did all three disappear, leaving me alone atop my perch, to drift about aimlessly in a sea of conflicting emotions.

Looking ahead, I saw a doctor who reminded me of Dr. Jekyll, though he looked like Uncle Sam, standing over a young man whose battered body lay wrapped in a bloody sheet on the table before him. To the left of the young man’s body, in the shadow of Uncle Sam, stood another nefarious surgeon general, I immediately recognized as Hyde, though he looked a lot like Ho Chi Minh. As they stood there bickering over the fate of the young man’s life, I realized that neither of them could ever gain control, either in life or in death, of the spirit of the young man while it remained free.

Forced back into my body, I sat straight up on the table, looking a bit like the risen Christ, for I wasn’t about to let these two thugs take control of my life. I had to take the helm if I didn’t want to end up hanging from the cross of one or the other of these two thieves, who had already taken so much from the world, in the name of their respective ism, there was little else left for them to take, but life itself. Since I was neither an unrepentant god nor an apologetic beast, I wanted no part in the killing of other human beings. Nor did I care to lose my life participating in such a dead-end affair. Although I sympathized with the plight of the apologetic beast, I knew that his way of life left as much to be desired as that of the moral right or unrepentant god, for hidden within the desire to destroy the terrible images they saw in each other, lay the hope of one day unearthing the missing link, a way of being that seeks to live out the best of both worlds instead of the worst.

Only I couldn’t imagine what the missing link looked like, much less how it would act in my situation. While I sincerely believed that Jesus would never have participated in the killing of another human being, I didn’t know what to do about my own participation in such an act, now that I was in the position to take another’s life. After all, I wasn’t Christ. Nor was I even Christlike. Yet I knew the missing link was, in spite of its apelike appearance, more like Christ then I could ever hope to be, for this gentle humanoid was ultimately tied to its maker by the limits of its imagination, of which I was just now becoming aware.

“To you,“ stated my mentor, “has been given the secret of the kingdom, but for those outside, everything comes in images.“ Mk. 3:11.

“Only I do not know this secret of which you speak,“ I insisted.

“When an animal looks,“ replied my mentor, “it does not perceive. Nor does it understand what it hears when it listens, for it lacks imagination. And so it is with all who have never learned to enter, a second time, the womb of the imagination, for I tell you, unless your shipmates become like children, they will never enter the kingdom. Bound by the images of Instinct, they will instead be left standing outside to wail and gnash their teeth, like animals seeking entry to their master’s house.

“Pay attention,“ admonished my mentor, “to what you hear rather than to what you see. ’For there is nothing hidden, except to be disclosed; nor is anything secret, except to come to light.’ Mk. 4:22.

“Now that you know,“ he concluded, “wherein the kingdom doeth lie—having seen the face of God there, with your own eyes—take care, lest you lose sight of this vital link to Who You Really Are, or what consciousness has been given you, will be taken away.“

“All aboard!“ rang out the voices of my faculties, in the almost effortless, musical charade they played to entice me back into the world of the imagination.

At the invitation of the conductor, who looked a bit like my old mentor, did I fall back on the only reservation I had—of getting too carried away with my imagination.

“All aboard!“ came the last call.

With that, was I swept away with the rest of the crew, to the gun line off the coast of Vietnam, to see our first real action.

MR. HART: What was the approximate date the Davidson arrived on the gun line?

RESPONDENT: October. No, September.

MR. HART: 1967?

RESPONDENT: September, 1967.

“I love you, my Lord Jesus,“ blurted out the voice of my soul, from somewhere across the void.

Then Jesus said, “To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but to the others it has not been given. With them indeed is fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah that says:

’You will indeed listen, but never understand;
And you will look, but never perceive.
For this people’s heart has grown dull,
And their ears, hard of hearing;
They have shut their eyes
So they might not look with their eyes,
Understand with their heart,
And turn—
That I might heal them.’

“But blessed are your eyes,“ he continued, “for they see, and your ears, for they hear. Truly I tell you, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see, but did not see it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it.“ Mt. 13:11 & 14–17.

Turning, Jesus gave the guardian of my soul, who remained out of sight, a few last minute instructions, before disappearing.

Instantly, I understood why the Buddha had winked at me back in Bangkok—to let me know that I was on the right track so long as I continued to turn inward, instead of outward, to seek nirvana. That is why, for me, R & R had come to symbolize the retreating of my self inwardly to reflect upon what I found therein, rather than a resting of my ego in the arms of some whore after she’d relaxed my joint, as it meant for so many of the others on the ship. Having learned to slip in ’n’ out of the darker recesses of my soul, without using my rod, had I finally stumbled upon an image of my humanity that could put the snake to rest, by simply dying to the urge to act instinctively, before descending into the hellish depths of the imagination, in spirit, to free from the imagery surrounding such compulsory acts, the truth that then allowed Him to rise from this death with the appropriate human behavior in hand. Unlike the Buddha, I had not only found a suitable image for the Voice of Pure Consciousness, in Jesus Christ, but had also discovered a place, called middle earth, where I could wander in ’n’ out, without fear of having to act like an animal, one day, and a god, the next.

After having been visited by the Lord in such a glorious manner, I wanted nothing more than to lay there, as long as I could, to savor the sweetness of the moment. Realizing that I must soon return to the source of my suffering, as Jesus had when He returned to Jerusalem to face an agonizing death after his own transfiguration, I finally got up and meandered back to the ship before it departed. As I boarded her, I couldn’t help thinking about what the others’d missed out on—the Second Coming of our Lord Jesus Christ—after they’d fallen for the old way of relieving the tension to create a new life for themselves.

“Come on,“ he pleaded with me. “Let’s get outta here before it’s too late.“

Numbed by the whole experience, I nonetheless managed to push my self away from the table and walk out on her.

“You’re an angel in disguise,“ I unabashedly proclaimed to Greg, as we scurried back to the ship.

Had it not been for him, I’d certainly have fallen, back there. As she cast her hypnotic spell upon me, I could feel my heart turning to stone. Mesmerized by her, I could do nothing but sit there, like a statue, and watch as my heart grew harder ’n’ harder, the closer I drew to succumbing to her. In my inability to free my self from the seductive web she’d woven around me, I could feel my body growing numb to all I truly felt about such intrigue, till Greg prodded me into getting back in touch with my feelings. Only then, fore I toppled over on her, a broken man, was I able to see through the outer shell of her being, to the horrid gorgon that’d overtaken her soul. Filled with the desire to live out the moment as a human being rather than an animal, I begged this angel in disguise, in silent prayer, to take me back to the ship that my humanity might, once again, shine forth from the core of my being as a beacon to all.

As the tortoise led the missing link back to ship, I couldn’t help noticing the gradual return of the warmth of my humanity to a heart that’d grown colder, the farther south I had pushed. For the first time in my life, had I ventured down below the belt into the world of Hyde without having been transformed into the hideous beast, beforehand, as the only prerequisite for entry into the animal kingdom. Though it was a very chilling experience, I came through it unscathed, for I had, in the process, liberated, from the beast, another small part of my humanity—those qualities of compassion, sympathy, and consideration for others, so characteristic of a real human being. No longer was I bound to a purely physical response to those persons in my immediate environment to which I still remained unconsciously identified. Nor was I so hopelessly lost when it came to figuring out how to respond, in a much warmer, more civilized manner, to those situations in my life that had previously drawn from me only the cold and ruthless response of an animal. Rather than getting stuck in either extreme, with an inappropriate intellectual or physical response, I was learning to use the images the mind and the body, in their infinite love for each other, continually reproduced for me, to help me feel my way through the darkness of my ignorance of the path my life must take, if I wished to live in harmony with this triune god.