“It’s a direct hit!“ yelled out the radioman as his voice shot out of the loud speaker in our compartment, and smacked me right upside the head like an insult to the soul.

As the rest of the ship’s company jumped up to give themselves one of the wildest standing ovations I had ever seen, you’d have thought it was the first Independence Day these guys had ever celebrated. To get a feel for what I’m trying to say, you’d have had to have been there to have seen the look I saw in their eyes, that night, for it was like unto no other than that of a predatory beast which has just tasted the blood of its first victim. As this drink went to their heads, you’d have sworn they had been elevated to the level of a god, for had they not, in deed, taken life into their own hands? If you’d been there, you’d have seen the same defiant look of triumph over the God of Love, I saw in their eyes. You’d have seen the very same illusion, they saw, that night, the death of man’s immortal foe, that evil magician, Instinct himself. And you’d have either laughed with the Joker or cried with me, depending upon whether you had sided with the forces of the animal kingdom or those of the kingdom of God, for the only independence granted that night, if any, was to those poor souls fortunate enough to have made the grade as they left their bodies behind upon the battlefield.

“Fly,“ commanded Michael, as I looked down, only to see my self standing upon the shoulders of my guardian angel.

“Very funny,“ I exclaimed. “But aren’t you forgetting something?“

“What’s that?“ he innocently asked in reply.

“I don’t have my wings yet,“ I shot back.

“O yes you do,“ he yelled out as he gave me the heave-ho. “Flap your arms and you shall see.“

The instant I started flapping my arms, back ’n’ forth, I pulled out of free fall and took to the air like a seasoned angel. I couldn’t believe it! I could really fly. Only, I got a little too carried away with my self when I looked heavenward, while trying to do the back stroke, and lost my balance. Plummeting to the earth, I landed in the bushes along a lane, unharmed by my sudden fall from grace.

In the ensuing commotion, had my fellow countrymen wandered off without me.

“Where have they all gone?“ I begged to know.

“To fulfill that great need of the body politic to preserve life as it is,“ replied my mentor.

“They’ve gone to soldiers, everyone,“ restated my shadow.

“When will they learn,“ admonished my soul, “to lose life for my sake, and mine alone, if they wish to preserve it.“

“No man can serve two masters,“ proclaimed my mentor. “He’ll either hate one and love the other or be attentive to one and despise the other.“ Mt. 6:24.

“In other words,“ reiterated my shadow, “you cannot give yourself to God and the military.“

“To do so,“ warned my soul, “will only bring you ruin. Therefore, do not tarry here, long, lest you lose the life you seek. Bring your self instead, to naught for me to live on, forever, in the minds of men.“

“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.

“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.

“Nor did the Buddha or Christ,“ responded my mentor. “It took Christ thirty years to come to a fuller understanding of Who He Really Is. Like the Buddha, it may take you longer to find out Who You Really Are.“

“Why?“ I asked.

“You have so much more of the evolution of man to work through, than did Christ,“ he replied.

“What d’ya mean?“ I inquired further.

“For Christ,“ he began, “Wisdom had been extracted from her imprisonment in nature, in the form of Mary, his mother. Through the union of her image with its likeness in heaven, had she conceived the first fully human being, for man’d finally evolved into its prototype, God. In other words, with the birth of Christ, had God created the first image of man ever made in His own likeness.“

“But I thought Adam was the first man,“ I exclaimed.

“Adam was man’s first conception of his own masculine self,“ responded my mentor, “just as Eve was his first conceptualization of the soul or feminine side of himself. Because these concepts split the Original Being into two seemingly opposite entities, that is, into the image and likeness of God, the concept of Who Man Really Is was flawed from the beginning. Thus began the long struggle, that culminated in the birth of Christ, to conceive of man’s true identity, one made in both the image and likeness of God, rather than in one form or the other.“

“Jesus wasn’t hermaphroditic, was he?“ I asked with incredulity.

“All who have evolved into human form are latent hermaphrodites,“ answered my mentor. “Is not your body housed by an apparently masculine self and a soul that is, by all appearances, feminine? And is not such a union with your soul what you really fear?“

Until I received affirmation from my feelings, I wasn’t too sure what I believed. And though I sensed the presence of truth in his words, I still found them hard to swallow, for I had always been taught that God’s our Father.

“The Original Being’s also your Mother,“ insisted my mentor, after having read my thoughts.

“But how can that be?“ I begged to know. “Did not Jesus always refer to God as our Father who art in heaven?“

“Was not Mary, his mother, filled with the Holy Spirit, the spirit of Wisdom?“ he asked in response. “Do you not see Mary as the incarnation of his heavenly mother, Wisdom? Why else do you think Christ would have spent thirty years of his life with this woman if she were not the embodiment of Wisdom? Do you not see the correspondence between Mary and his heavenly mother?

“You see, my son,“ concluded my mentor, “without Wisdom, there would be no stories to tell, for devoid of all meaning, life would simply not exist. Above all else, seek her while yet she may be found, for she is the only mistress who can satisfy you. Turn to her, that you may find the way, for she must be obeyed, one way or the other, as the man she wants you to become or as the beast she wants you to so badly overcome, so that she might, one day, be freed from the image of Nature in which she has remained imprisoned ever since her alter ego, Eve, gave into an instinctive desire to create consciousness.“

“If you go away from this experience with anything at all,“ stated my mentor, “I hope it is with the realization that you may never take the life of another human being, no matter how you feel, for you have been called by the Highest Authority to destroy the images of your enemies as you see them within yourself rather than in your neighbor.“

“Do you not see, my son, how the cycle of violence is passed from one generation to the next!“ exclaimed my mentor. “As you acquired the habit of putting down the lesser self and beating off the advances of the greater Self from your parents, so would you have passed this tendency down to your children, had you not chosen to break the cycle.“

“I hope you see now, how this behavior has led to the creation of Hyde,“ added my shadow.

“For She must be obeyed, one way or the other,“ interjected my soul, “as either a beast or a human being.“

“What I don’t understand,“ I inquired, “is why I was transformed into a wolf instead of Hyde.“

“You see, my son,“ answered my mentor, “because Hyde perpetuated the cycle of self-abuse, in his addiction to this narcotic, he could never have turned against his supplier.“

“Since only the witch knew the words to the incantation that transformed you into such a hideous beast,“ added my shadow, “as Hyde, you could never have destroyed this life line to your existence.“

“To get you to attack this predaceous image of your mother,“ insisted my soul, “we had to draw upon the instinct for survival, that you found in the image of the wolf.“

“It was all so horrible,“ I cried out, as tears welled up in my eyes. “Once I’d been transformed into a wolf, I could think of nothing but killing my prey, the old witch. As I grew more ’n’ more intoxicated with the idea of killing her, I had the sense that it was all right, that I was only taking this life in order to live. I felt as if I was only taking back what rightfully belonged to me, my own personhood. I tore into her flesh, not so much for the revenge, as I did for the food of the gods, that knowledge which comes from the destruction of an old image. Then I was overcome by remorse for having taken the life of an old god.“

“Only you never realized,“ interjected my mentor, “how incomplete was your picture of God, until you prepared this false image for interment.“

“When Mother Nature finally revealed her true identity,“ added my shadow, “she apologized for the shoddy treatment you had received from her alter ego, the opinionated old witch that’d devoured the image of your mother.“

“It was only you,“ insisted my soul, “who could free us from the devouring image of your mother.“

As I turned to face the music of my own dreams, I slipped, unnoticed, through the gate she had provided at her expense. Inside, I ran smack dab into an incredibly massive and seemingly impenetrable stone wall, the likes of which I had never seen before. Standing back for a moment, to take in the full measure of the barrier I had constructed between my self and my imagination, with the help of all those who had ever passed this way, I caught sight of an invisible opening in the wall, a black hole through which only the undaunted passed. Overcoming my dismay over the shadow of a noose that hung on the wall above the opening, just beyond my reach, I stepped off into the black hole where I encountered the spirits of what had, long ago, been condemned by the Church of the Living Dead and strangled to death by the Wraiths of the State. As the spirits swarmed and slithered about me like venomous snakes, I knew the lies, which enveloped the truth of these spirits in such vile forms, could do me no harm. Allowed to pass unharmed, was I greeted by the Great Necromancer, himself, the one whom men have called the Adversary ever since he tricked them out of Paradise. While the Trickster stood there smiling at me with the conceited assurance that the likes of me would never see through the magic of an erect phallus, I watched as his form slowly gave way to the very pillar of my being, on top of which sat a pearl, the size of a softball. Immediately, I recognized it as the Pearl of Great Price, a symbol of the individual which, at birth, God had ordained me to become. And I saw it as the only way in which I could ever hope to withstand the lure of the Trickster, to act instinctively. Lacking any awareness of this individual, I lost sight of the apparition, as it slowly gave way to the illuminating light of a fire that burned brighter and brighter, the closer I got.

“What am I to do now?“ asked I of the more civilized aspects of my nature who, in their ongoing feud with the more uncivilized parts of me, had never won a single round in the debate over this question, and then wondered why I’d thrown out their unworkable old solutions, along with those of the beastly neighbors beneath them.

Having been encouraged to imagine my way out, did I slip into a region of the brain where I could go without having to act like a beast, one day, and a god, the next. Only I wasn’t too sure I’d found the place until the voices in my head had dropped me off there, in their own picturesque way.

“The uncivilized run around like chickens with their heads chopped off,“ gave I some thought to the unthinkable side of nature. “They worry me with the half-baked ideas they concoct and force down the throats of unsuspecting souls like me, as if their solutions were the only way to go. And they wonder why I don’t ever take them very seriously.“

So off I went to fill the hole these images invariably left behind whenever I slipped into this region of the brain to find the words to express myself in a more civilized manner.

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.

“First, I’d like to talk to you-all about the benefits of a career in the Navy,“ Kraft began, at which point Marty ’n’ I burst out laughing.

“Benefits!“ Marty exclaimed. “How the f___ you can stand there, Kraft, and tell me that years of f___in’ with other people’s lives is gonna do anything for me but f___in’ guarantee me a place in hell, really burns my ass.“

“What d’ya mean?“ Kraft asked Marty, as I sat in my seat laughing at how seriously Kraft was taking Marty. Kraft should never have indulged Marty, for there was no stopping him once he got started bad mouthing the Navy.

“You know damn well what I mean, Kraft,“ replied Marty, “for it was f___in’ parasites like you who promised me a place in paradise if I joined the f___in’ Navy in the first place. Only you f___ers never told me I’d have to go sloggin’ through hell to get there. So here I am, stuck on some godforsaken can, ridin’ herd with a bunch of f___in’ wild animals for some would-be cattle baron back up in Washington, who got a wild hair up his ass, one afternoon, to sell us out to some Southeast Asian slaughterhouse fearful of losin’ its ass in a hostile takeover bid by some gook tycoon named Ho Chi Minh. Unable to comply with the wishes of my heart, am I forced now, by low life motherf___ers like you, to do what runs contrary to my true nature. And that’s not paradise by any stretch of the imagination, Kraft. That’s f___in’ hell.

“Until I experienced your version of paradise, a West Pac cruise with plenty of booze ’n’ pussy galore, I never understood why the f___ anyone in his right mind would want to make a career outta the f___in’ Navy. Seein’ how your own goddamn d__ks drove you to seek out the one f___in’ whore who could give you what you’ve always wanted, I knew why f___ers like you chose to stay in the f___in’ Navy.“

“Where else,“ interjected Kraft, “could you get a job that would guarantee ya an income and free health care for the rest of your life, give ya free room ’n’ board, or send ya to school for nothin’ but a few years of service to your country?“

“Ya know, Kraft,“ Marty replied, “you’ve been lyin’ to us peons for so goddamn long, you’ve got your self believin’ your own f___in’ lies. You ain’t servin’ the people of this country; you’re servin’ your own f___in’ goddamn d__k. For pussy’s your god, and you’d do anything for it. You ain’t fightin’ for freedom, or for the people of this country, or for any of the other bullshit reasons you come up with. You’re fightin’ to maintain your own f___in’ way of life, the right to live like a f___in’ animal. You’re fightin’ to protect the last place on earth where f___ers like you can unleash their animal natures to prey upon the rest of us without fear of punishment. And because there ain’t no other place in a civilized society for f___in’ animals like you, but prison, you stay in this f___in’ zoo where you’re protected by the culture, loved and revered by all but a few stalwarts, like me ’n’ Dury, who have chosen to remain true to their own souls.

“Why you ain’t nothin’ but a f___in’ goddamn pimp for the Navy, Kraft. When this f___in’ bitch grabbed ya by the d__k, you fell for her like every other d__k she’s sucked the life out of, before ya. And by turnin’ your life over to her, you’ve helped her become one of the greatest goddamn whores that’ve ever lived.

“But a bitch like her can’t remain a whore for very long without f___in’ johnnies, like you ’n’ me. While she may have me by the balls, right now, she ain’t never gonna get hold of my d__k, like she did yours, Kraft, for the f___in’ bitch’s already caused me enough goddamn pain to last the rest of my life. She ain’t never gonna trick this johnny again, cause this johnny’s gonna be marchin’ to the beat of his own goddamn drum when it comes time for him to go marchin’ home.“

As those who’d gathered around Marty ’n’ me broke out laughing and cheering wildly, Kraft shook his head in disgust. “I feel sorry for you,“ he muttered as he turned in righteous indignation to hightail it off the mess decks, before he was run out of town as a charlatan.

“I feel sorry for you,“ Marty yelled back, “for you’re the one who’s f___in’ sick, Kraft, not me.“

I was shocked. Never had I heard Marty speak with such conviction concerning perceptions which, only yesterday, he’d refuted when they came from me. In reality, I was more surprised by his translation of my ideas than I was by his sudden turnabout. For the first time in my life, I realized that I mattered—that my perceptions had just as great an impact on the lives of other people as they’d had upon my life.