“What’re you doin’?“ I asked her, as she bent down over my footlocker and began rummaging around through its contents as if she were looking for some long lost treasure of mine.

“I’ve come to help you sort through your feelings,“ she replied.

Suddenly, I felt as if I’d returned to Treasure Island, only this time, to seek out some hidden truth about myself.

“That’s it!“ she exclaimed. “You’ve been exiled here, on the isle of your Self, to begin living out your true vocation in life.“

“What’re you talkin’ about?“ I asked her.

“Don’t ya see,“ she exclaimed, “that you’re bein’ called by the Most High to serve out the rest of your enlistment, here, in the brig.“

“Why I can’t do that,“ I insisted, even though deep down I felt more at home, here, than I had anywhere else since coming on active duty.

“Look!“ she exclaimed as she held up the little treasure chest she’d pulled from my locker. “Here’s where your heart doeth lie. It is my gift to you, my beloved. From this moment on, you shall always know what you feel, for you now possess your own heart which belongs not to you, but rather to all those with whom you share its contents or infinite wisdom. It shall be the cause of all your pain and, at the same time, the source of all your joy. It’ll allow you to search the depths of your being without the fear of being overcome by its contents as was your father who, in his weakness, succumbed to the madness of trying to live out the vision of others rather than the one with which he had been entrusted at birth. Use it wisely, my beloved, and it will serve you well—unwisely, and it’ll become a Pandora’s box.“

And so did my asking her, what she was doing, help me to see that I’d been living out the vision of another, instead of my own, when she had asked me, in the past, what I was doing.

Before she could hand me the box, it slipped from her hands and fell to the floor, causing the lid to fly open and release its contents. In a brilliant flash of light, did the Spirit of Love, boxed up within my chest, all these years, burst forth and shower down upon the badlands of my being, where still reigned the Prince of Beasts. And as this wasteland began to bear fruit again, I struggled to accept that part of my nature whose appetite for sex I still held in contempt.

That night I dreamed I had finally found the door to heaven, when the lid to Jinny’s box flew open to reveal all the love Instinct had imprisoned there within my chest. As I worked my way back ’n’ forth through the maze of feelings which’d overtaken me as I penetrated this narrow gate, I came to the conclusion that sexual intercourse is a well-orchestrated ruse, Nature uses to propel a facsimile of one’s self deep into the womb of one’s imagination, to create a whole new awareness or amalgam of self and soul in the flesh. Simply put, I had no idea, before now, that I could ever have found heaven on earth, much less within the very thing I feared most.

“What’s your name, puke,“ hissed the badgerer, as he rounded the corner of his desk to invade my space.

“Drury,“ I replied with the meekness of one who sincerely hoped that physical abuse was not a part of his repertoire of intimidation.

“Drury, sir,“ he screamed as he got right up in my face.

“I can’t hear you,“ he snarled with a glare meant to maximize the effect he was obviously having on me.

“Drury, sir,“ I finally muttered, unwillingly.

“Are you a pussy, Dury?“ he screamed into my face, after I’d failed to respond to him with any balls.

Acting as if he’d just seen my soul, did he suddenly turn and walk his puffed-up, young self back around to the front of his desk, to take a look at my confinement papers. “Well, what have we here,“ sneered the badger within him, “some pussy-ass f–kup?“

“What kind of pussy-ass name is Eodor,“ growled the beast within him, in an effort to live up to its namesake.

“Sir Eodor is my father’s name,“ I replied with the pride of the eldest son and subsequent heir to the family coat of arms.

“I thought it was your mother’s name,“ snarled some smart-ass corporal who had yet to earn his badge as a full-fledged badgerer.

“You think you’re really somethin’, don’t ya Dury, better than the rest of us,“ yelled out the sergeant from across his desk, after having obviously been deeply disturbed by my tone of voice. “Well in my eyes, mister, you ain’t nothin’ but a goddamn puke. Ya got that, Dury.“

Having failed to elicit any response from me, to get my goad in other words, he ordered me to empty out the contents of my pockets, which, of course, I did in all haste. Scarfing up what little money I had, he then placed it in a manila envelope and asked me to sign the damn thing, to verify that he’d written down the correct amount on the outside of the envelope.

“Get this f–kin’ puke outta my sight, before I get any sicker than I already am,“ he commanded.

Looking into the red beady eyes of this poor dumb brute, before I was taken to my new quarters, I caught a glimpse of his own suppressed humanity, hidden deep within his being in some dark, dank ’n’ dirty cell. Immediately, I recognized this humanity of his as my own and raced off to embrace it. In the compassion I felt, that day, for this poor wretched creature, was I liberated from my fear and taken aback by my humanity—or missing link—to a place in Paradise where lay the profane and the holy, side by side, like the lion and the lamb in Isaiah.

“I believe you ’n’ I are the ones who should take a hike,“ concluded my mentor, “so these two can spend some much needed time together, getting to know each other a little better.“

“You’re right,“ agreed Michael, as the two of them disappeared, leaving me alone with my soul, really, for the first time since I met her.

As I sat there poking around in the fire of my heart’s desires, with a stick, I grew uncomfortable with the feelings I had stirred up. Fearful of letting the beast in me take over, I jabbed the stick, quickly, in ’n’ out of the coals, before plunging it all the way into the fire and letting go of it. Immediately I climaxed, without having ejaculated.

O how wonderful it was! Gone was the fire that burned between us. Gone, too, were the two of us, for in our place stood, for an instant, an invincible being of neither sex, before it returned to its former glory.

And O how she did radiate with the beauty of that little amalgam of her and me.

“What happened?“ I asked with a grin.

“You have just experienced at-one-ment with me,“ she replied with that roguish little smile of hers.

Just then, the bubble burst. And I knew, immediately, that I was in trouble again with the Navy.

“You’re on report, Dury,“ shouted some PO, as he disappeared up the ladder before I could even identify him.

“For what?“ I shouted back, to no avail, for I had absolutely no idea of why I’d been written up again.

Expecting my soul to have already disappeared from the mirror, I was surprised, when I turned around, to find her standing there, glowing with the radiance of the new life taking shape within her womb. Instead of chiding her for having gotten me into trouble with the Navy again, I simply smiled at her, for it’d just dawned on me how she was trying to help me get out of the Navy. Whenever she enticed me to cross the line between this world and the next, I literally left the Navy behind, as if it really didn’t exist, to embrace the reality of Who I Am.

“I am Who Am,“ muttered I to my self, in my confusion over the true nature of this unnamed god.

“Yes,“ reaffirmed my soul, “and that’s exactly what your shipmates and their kin saw walking among them on the pier, the day you returned to the isle of your Self.“

“I wish I could’ve seen what they saw,“ I groaned.

“O but you have,“ she exclaimed, “when you beheld the exquisite beauty of that unnamed aspect of your greater Self, that is, of you ’n’ me, I’ve been struggling so hard, over the past six months, to carry to full term for you in my womb.“

“I’m sorry I haven’t been more helpful,“ I confessed.

“When I realized how afraid you were, of assuming responsibility for the consequences of your own actions,“ interjected my soul, “I took the advice of my father and backed off for awhile, or at least until those times when your desire for unity with me overcame your fear.“

Having been charged again, for failing to appear at my appointed place of duty, and for having been derelict in the performance of my duties, was I dragged before the Captain, several days later, with the added charge of having failed to shave that morning, for a real shotgun wedding of sorts. Finding my self surrounded, for the first time ever at a Captain’s mast, by my soul, Michael, and her father, I stood there, before the High Priest and his entourage, dressed as the White Knight.

“Do you, Mr. Drury, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?“ asked the High Priest.

“I do,“ I replied out of guilt.

“And do you, woman, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?“ he asked my soul.

“I do,“ replied she out of her love for me.

“Then I pronounce you both man and wife,“ proclaimed the High Priest, rather methodically, as he sent us on our way, with his blessings, to the Naval Station Brig at Pearl Harbor for thirty days of correctional custody, and all for the paltry sum of half a month’s pay.

As word trickled down through the chain of command that we were to be given the day off, at the discretion of the commanding officer of each division, word of a very different kind—that the rank and file of First Division had gone on strike—spread like wildfire through the crew. Ordered to report up topside for work, like jackasses had they sat down on their haunches, in the hangar bay, refusing to budge no matter how hard their cruel taskmasters tugged at the reigns of fear that bridled them. After learning that the members of every other division on the ship had been laid off for the day, except for those required to stand watch, they grew irate and demanded to know why they were being so mistreated.

Locked out by the officials of First Division, while they hammered out a face-saving agreement with those who had called this wildcat work stoppage, I stood in the passageway outside the door to the hangar bay, anxiously awaiting any news of the outcome of this exciting new development in the feudal relationship of the rank and file to the officialdom of His Majesty’s Navy. As the flood gates to my imagination burst open, I was inundated with the mutinous talk of a small coterie of disaffected seamen who’d gathered up topside, several months ago, to revel in the myth which had gripped the imaginations of these would-be mutineers. Why I was so captivated by my own thoughts of mutiny, I hardly noticed the XO as he whisked by, to rendezvous with the rabble in the hangar bay. In defiance, did I smile when he turned to glare at me in an accusatory manner before closing the door, as if I’d been the cause of this totally spontaneous event. As I saw it, I was no more responsible than he was, for the myth which’d grabbed the imaginations of this mutinous lot was much larger than either one of us. Sure, I preyed upon the disaffection of my shipmates, but only as a point of contention or means of getting back in touch with what I was really feeling. For I could not fathom what new life my soul’d give birth to, in the coming months. And as the only breed of new man…

Just then, I heard the door open. Looking up, I saw the XO emerge with his head hung low. And as he scurried past me, with his tail between his legs, I knew that we had prevailed.

As I zeroed in on Greg, to get the scoop on what had gone down, I learned that they had been told to keep their mouths shut about what had happened, unless they wanted to be charged with mutiny when they all got back to Hawaii. Fearing that I’d been misled by my perceptions of the XO as he emerged from the hangar bay, I asked Greg if they had not won any concessions from him.

“You bet,“ he replied with an exuberance that touched me deeply. “We got the motherf—er to not only give us the day off, but also guarantee us better treatment, in the future, from our immediate superiors.“

“See what can be done,“ I interjected, “when we ban together.“

“Yeah,“ responded Greg. “We can all be hauled away for mutiny, court-martialed and locked up for the rest of our lives in some godforsaken prison.“

“Are we not now serving time for our rebellion against the Highest Authority in the world?“ I asked.

“Maybe,“ he surmised. “At least I have the consolation of knowin’ that I’m gonna get outta here on good behavior in about a year.“

“Will the soul really be freed from its imprisonment in nature when one’s self is released from this indentured servitude to embrace a life of unbridled greed?“ I probed him more deeply. “I think not,“ I philosophically replied, “for such a life only further enslaves the soul to one’s self. How does one free himself then, from the chains he has forged in this life with his own hands? Unless he embraces the life that is his soul, I daresay he can never escape the hell he has created for himself.“

“If only you would say no to the Great Gray Whore,“ had my soul whispered in my ear, “I would fulfill your every desire for union with me. But you would have to stop whoring around with her first,“ she insisted, “and run away with me to the Promised Land.“

“If it were that simple,“ I explained, “believe me, I’d be the first to take off with you, as in the days of old, when I was younger ’n’ freer, and could run away with you at the drop of a hat. Only I can’t do that anymore. I’m tied down now, bound to this godforsaken can by a contract I made with the government of the United States, like a pact with the devil, for two years of my life.“

“Don’t ya see,“ she argued, “that it’s a nonbinding contract.“

“Like hell it is!“ I exclaimed. “I can’t just walk away from it. I’d find my ass in the brig so goddamn fast, I wouldn’t know what hit me.“

“In the eyes of God,“ she retorted, “the only contract that is binding, is the one that bound you to me, for life, in your mother’s womb. Don’t you remember the solemn vows we made, before you were born—how I promised to show ya the way, if only you’d take me there—and how you promised, as you were leaving the womb, that you’d come back one day, to take me with ya, wherever we’d decide to go. O how I’ve longed for the day when we’d be as one again!“

“You don’t understand,“ I complained. “It’d be insane for me to return with you to never-never land.“

“No,“ she refuted, “it’d be insane for you to go on as you are.“

“There’s nothing I can do about it,“ I insisted.

“You can always say no,“ she persisted.

“Yeah right,“ I contested. “And end up in the brig. What kinda deal is that?“

“Well,“ she conjectured.

“I’m afraid not,“ I exclaimed.

“I’m afraid so,“ she rebutted.

“What d’ya mean?“ I asked.

“You’re afraid to go to the brig,“ she replied.

“I am not,“ I insisted, even though I knew she was telling the truth.

“And you’re afraid that’s what the Navy’ll do to ya, too,“ she persisted, “if you start saying no to them.“

“You’re goddamn right!“ I exclaimed.

“You just need to start dealing with your fear,“ she concluded.

“Git up, ya shiftless motherfucker,“ he demanded as he kicked away at the heels of my shoes. While I was getting up, he ordered me to turn the watch gear over to Aubrey, who had just walked up behind him. “Git outta here,“ railed the pig in him as he turned to hightail his butt back to the mess decks, to get his share of the slop before it was all gone.

“You really did it, this time,“ grunted the pig left standing there.

“I couldn’t stay awake,“ bemoaned the missing link.

“Ya shoulda woke one of us up,“ exclaimed my relief as he turned and walked away, shaking his head.

For all the fear that took possession of me, like a demon, I was never written up for having committed such a grievous offense in a war zone. As the horror of having to face a firing squad shot through my head, I thought for sure I was dead meat. Why Joe failed to write me up, I never understood until recently, when I realized that one was seldom, if ever, put on report for an animal transgression of the law, though he was sure to be written up for failing to fulfill the same law as a human being. As an incompetent animal was I relieved of ever having to stand another watch while I remained onboard the Davidson, a victory that suited me just fine, since it only served to further minimize my role in a drama of which I wanted no part.

“Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord’s about to pass by,“ commanded the voice of my soul.

“Now there was a great wind, so strong it split mountains and broke rocks into pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind, an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake, a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire, a sound of sheer silence.“ I Kings 19:11–12.

Overcome with fear, I broke out in a cold sweat as I lay there, struggling to awaken from a deep sleep. Unable to let go of my fear, I found little to comfort me as I rhetorically circumambulated the meaning of the dream. “Had I gone over to the exchange with Marty and the others,“ I asked my self, “only to see the hint of an encounter with God succumb to a whirlwind of Brute Force? Had I been looking for an experience of God, when I was so badly shaken by the fall of Elrie? Had not I found God in the fire that burned to reunite me with the other side of my nature?“ Into the feminine side of my nature had I lunged as I latched onto what my body had grasped. Having abandoned the foundering, one-sided, masculine point of view, to wage an unwinnable war in Vietnam, had I darted off in search of what I knew not. Lest I get swept away by a treacherous undercurrent or backlash of the feminine side of my nature, as had my real father, some twenty-odd years ago, I wanted to know what she had seen, the second the sound of sheer silence resonated with me. Having stumbled across bits ’n’ pieces of the truth, I had not yet found the whole truth, for it was nothing but the truth, so help me God, whom I sought. And so did I awaken, if only briefly, from the deep sleep that’d been imposed upon me ere I entered this world in human form to free my soul from the clutches of Instinct.

“Knowing this about you,“ added my soul, “the One Voice tried to alleviate your fears with the reassurance that you were going nowhere He had not already been and would be traversing again with you.“

“Why didn’t I see Him then?“ I asked.

“Like any voice,“ replied my mentor, “you cannot see it. Unlike the One Voice, you saw Him in the images that presented themselves to you after He spoke.“

“In response to the call for enlightenment,“ continued my shadow, “you delved into the dark pall which has hung over your head, like the Sword of Damocles, since puberty. There were you confronted by your alter ego as it flew out of control in its intoxication with the force of Nature that is released whenever the ego takes what does not belong to it. And for the first time, Dr. Jekyll, you recognized this image of Hyde as your stepfather. With the realization that you had vicariously inherited from your stepfather the same ugly tendency to usurp the sovereignty of the One Voice, you entered the theater of the absurd to seek out this tyrant, in a roundabout way, from among your own rundown and abandoned thoughts and feelings.“

“Not knowing what to expect,“ chimed in my soul, “you reluctantly inquired within, making yourself vulnerable to a confrontation with the force that had so marred your life in the past, it now appeared much more menacing than it really was. So threatened were you, by the brutish side of your nature, you tried to run away from it again, to no avail. Round ’n’ round your mind you raced, in an effort to escape having to confront your own brutality. No matter how hard you tried, you could not rationalize it away, this time.“

“As your mind expanded upon a way to get out of this pickle with your self-esteem intact,“ expounded my mentor, “you wound up on the receiving end, where your thoughts about the use of force had gathered to make sport of you. As they reiterated the chant you’d been taught in boot camp, to yell out every time you thrust your bayonet into one of them, you were overcome by the hopelessness, they had felt back then, of ever again seeing the light of day.“

“Then,“ interjected my shadow, “you spotted the narrow gate—the one seldom chosen only because the gate that leads to damnation is so much wider, the way to it, so much clearer to those who choose it. In running with the idea that the narrower choice simply consisted of putting some distance between your self and the urge to use brute force, you overlooked the limitations this choice really imposed upon you.“

“Feeling trapped,“ continued my soul, “you turned to face the urge to use brute force, as every thought ’n’ feeling in your body screamed out to kill the urge before it got hold of you and inflicted you with the wound that never heals—that endless cycle of revenge, of taking an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.“

To be continued…

Immediately, did he start talking to me about some of the images that’d popped into my head, giving new meaning to them. For he certainly seemed to know more about them than I did—the reason I’d been drawn to him in the first place.

“You have chosen wisely, my son,“ he went on to say, “for seldom has one, so young, ever slipped past the Magician and the wall of illusion that surrounds him, without falling prey to his magic. If you want to see the face of God, you’ll have to remove the Magician’s mask from your face. Made in the image ’n’ likeness of God, you’ll have to tear down the facade, behind which you hide, if you want to see yourself as you really are—for the only mask you can safely wear, without being destroyed by it, is the one God specifically fashioned for you alone.

“In looking to the void—the space created by the emotional departure of your soul from the illusory way of life you’ve inherited from your parents—for the help you’ll need as you attempt to find this mask, you have, once again, chosen wisely, my son. In your fear, however, of letting go of the life the Navy has imposed upon you, to embrace that of your own soul, you’ve gotten bogged down in this limbo, or gray area between heaven and hell. For you have yet to learn the lesson of the void, that everything you seek is all right here within you.“

As the experience opens, I find my self at odds again with my body. Driven by some asinine instinct to look beyond the dry, uninspiring and lifeless mode of existence my head has chosen to pursue, I trudge off, one day, with the curiosity of my youth, to explore the farthest reaches of my imagination. Looking back, I realize I’ve gotten mired down in an unsuitable way of life due primarily to a stubborn refusal on my part to trust any other aspect of myself but my head.

At wit’s end, I’m forced to delve ever more deeply into my imagination for inspiration. Because I have such a great fear of losing control, I’m willing to go only so far, to keep from getting too carried away by my imagination. Naturally, I only succeed in getting caught up in circular thinking. After all, how can I put my trust in an instinct that’s so often led me astray. And yet, I’m forced to rely on this same instinct, or inner urge to play with my self, if ever I wish to find a way out of reliving the fate of my fathers. In the struggle to let go of my self, I finally give my imagination free rein.

As I lose my self in play, I panic. In my inability to let go of the urge to play with my self, I race off after this instinct, only to fall flat on my face when my imagination fails me. Having exhausted every effort on my part to make something happen, I finally let go of my conscious self, long enough to fall into the dreadful darkness that still clouds my mind, where I lay until I catch wind of a new awareness stirring about.

Once I engage my imagination, I catch sight of some vague notion fluttering about my head, which, at first, seems so preposterous I simply dismiss it. As I come to my senses, I think, “there’s no way this crazy notion can be true,“ whereupon my feelings quickly let me know that what I’m about to see is the truth.

As I come to this new awareness, I suddenly find myself deeply engaged with the concept that consciousness and the material world are one and the same. Stirred by the very breath of life within me, I come to the realization that I live in this Spirit, just as it lives in me. I come to understand Jesus’ words: “On that day you’ll know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you,“ (Jn. 14:20) for “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.“ (Jn. 8:12) “Is it not written in your law, ’I have said you are gods’?“ (Jn. 10:34) Again, “I say, ’you are gods, children of the Most High, all of you’.“ (Ps. 82:6) Made in the image and likeness of God, in my ecstasy, I come to the realization that, like Jesus, I Am Who Am.

As I struggle to see through the matter that envelopes all consciousness, I am drawn to the tree of life, an image of God in which the hidden feminine side of the Original Being suddenly stands out like never before. At first, I’m so completely captivated by the exquisite beauty of Nature, that I cannot yet see her real identity, the feminine side of my nature. Taking a closer look at this image, I see Wisdom, her whom the Creator “poured out upon all his works, upon all the living according to his gift.“ (Sir. 1:9–10) Cloaked in the simple language of her images, I find Christ’s words: “You will live in my love, if you keep my commandments, even as I have kept my Father’s commandments, and live in his love.“ (Jn. 15:10–11) For true wisdom is the ability to apply what one has acquired mentally to the conduct of his own affairs.

Once I realize the significance of the stone tablet, I find a way back to my heart where I am reminded of the words of the prophet Jeremiah: “I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts. No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, ’Know the Lord,’ for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord.“ (Jer. 31:33–34)

And I find that the way to my heart is through the door opened by those things in the world which contain a hint of what I do not yet know about myself. As soon as something in the material world strikes a chord in my heart, I am reunited with that part of my soul, which remains locked up, out there in nature, far from consciousness. Struck by an arrow of Eros, or some feeling for the thing, am I driven to take possession of whatever it is that eludes my grasp. In my lust, or need for instant gratification, I may fall for the very thing itself, if it remains too far from consciousness. Or if I am patient, I may stumble upon the naked truth of Wisdom herself as I play with her images, for it is in going to her as a lover of truth that she whispers their meaning in my ear.