ST18 ... The winds removed everything

but one infinitesimal spec of light

I met John Veltri when i was seventeen or so. John was/is/was a jesuit priest. My older brother Allyn had a retreat with him and mentioned him to me when i was going thru some difficulties. I don't remember what the issues were. There was, are so many in life. He was someone to talk it out with, someone with experience in dealing with the psyche. I started a group that got together once a month or so to discuss, life, anything, whatever came up. I guess you could say a young-mens group. No women came and i don't remember why. If they were excluded or just not invited. This was 1965 or 66. We gathered at the Ignatius College where John held retreats.

John Veltri - Jesuit Priest & Life Long Friend in the Walls and Halls of Ignatius College, Guelph, On. Can.

John invited Martin. Everyone else in the group were my friends from childhood and a few new ones from the beginnings of the grass smoking crowd, which was just in its infancy at the time. It exploded across the western nations in the next few years.

Martin was incredibly well read from existentialism to all the arts and had a lean towards marxism. Most of the group got caught in its web for a year or so. We became a marxist group. I ended that one day with a revelation dealing with propaganda and how you can not force anyone to see, to feel love, to be clear in ones heart. I still feel that today. (‘propaganda all is phoney’ - from Dylan’s classic, ‘It's alright ma i'm only bleeding’). Ideologies do not move me, capture me. It is the way of the heart that ultimately directs my being. Thought is a very useful tool, but a tool that cannot ultimately know love, god, truth. A useful devise to navigate the ways of the world, but not the spirit.

I kept in touch with John my whole life until he died a few years ago. He helped me through some difficult times that occurred through the ups and downs on the trail of life; my brothers death when i was 28, girlfriend issues, a best friend suicide, my daughters medical death, mental turmoil in general. A free psychologist. We became very close friends. Near the end of his life it was me consoling him more often than not. He questioned his life long beliefs in Jesus, the whole christian terrain in various forms. He was a theologian and conducted many retreats through out his life time. He was a brother to me. He was famous and well respected in the catholic circuit throughout North America for retreats for jesuits, priests, nuns and some lay people as well.

One time early on into the entrance of my journey along the red road, i visited John. Just by chance the sweat lodge conducted by the Cree Urban Elder Vern Harper was on jesuit land just across the road from Ignatius College in the outskirts of Guelph On. A coincidence i suppose. I was just wanting to get away for a few days to be quiet, unwind, meditate, rearrange my mind. It was free also. I was allowed to have a room on the third floor of this early 20th century building that was once a college for Jesuits and well known across the Americas. It was customary for people to be on silent retreats here and so no one attempted to talk to you unless you approached them and often they would just smile and simply not answer. From all the years i had known John, i had never taken the opportunity, which was offered to me often, to do a silent retreat there. All i had to do was see John once a day and have a short talk about whatever came to mind. There were three meals a day. The best; jesuits eat well.

The Red Road is the Way of the Heart - Uncertain and Mysterious

This one day John suggested a form of a meditation for me. He said to go back up to my room. Lie down, get comfortable, close your eyes and imagine yourself in a great museum on display. What are you?

This experience was extraordinary. I fell into a deep meditative dream-like state within a few seconds. That was unusual in itself. Immediately i saw myself as a character on display, a sculpture, a horse , and i on its back as a Don Quiote-like figure with a spear in one hand, a huge black hat, eloquent attire and proud. The room was large and appeared to be in a most prestigious reputable museum. There was a thick burgundy velvet rope on silver posts around the display to keep people from entering into the display area. There was a large crowd shuffling about, coming and going, looking at me, judging me and my horse, as a shiny bronze ancient sculpture. There were moments of dead silence with no one in view, as through nights of a lone watchmen. Quickly this changed as the winds of time persistently came blowing upon me. The whole figure after thousands, millions of years diminished to nothing but a small pile of dirt dust onto the museum floor. All matter and ideology wiped clean, erased. There was nothing left, but i was alive.

The winds continued until all dust was blown away, all but one infidesimal spec of pure light, like a tiny jewel left lying there, the essence of me. I was reduced to a fine fleck of spirit. People came walking by looking into the empty display space with a baffled mind wondering what there was here to see. They saw nothing. After a period of time there was no one left, no one to gaze into the nothingness of this long span of eternal space. No one to remember or to be remembered.

time lifting its head for a moment

Two figures approached clothed in robes and both looked absolutely straight direct into my eye. They both recognized me instantly. They knew me intimately. Everything about me. After a curious hesitant moment, I asked both Jesus and Buddha, "how do i be" and after a few eternal moments Jesus, spoke unto me, "be as you are" and Buddha without hesitation said "be as you are not" and both they smiled. They turned and put their arms around each other as true friends and went walking into the distance diminishing and fading into the landscape into the nothingness laughing all along the way.

I awoke, soft, felt serene perfectly free and content in my unknowing and ready to continue my walk into the mystery with no defined answers, no ideology, a paradox, a living parable.

John was blown away when i told him of this experience. He hadn't had another that fell so quick into a deep dreamland state and to come upon such a magnificent vision, ever.

Neither had i. That was long ago but i'm still in that field of being of what i am sometimes, what i am not at other times. Eternal eternity walking.

Vern from just across the road in our man to man conversations would sometimes complain, "damned if you do and damned if you don't", often in reference to his relationship with his wife but not exclusively. I know and understand this sentiment well.

Vern Harper in his Sweat lodge across the Road on Jesuit Land (Ironic; Yes)

Somehow it clarified to me that there is no clear direction towards anything anywhere at anytime. Every move is on its own terms, changing. What is the right move now may be the wrong move later. It all crumbles into faith, into a spirit of the way of love, god, truth. How does one follow such a message, 'be as you are, be as you are not'. 

Nameless in its truth

In an over all look into the times i tend to believe we are in one of those extended moments whereas it would be best 'to be as you are not'. A time to throw away your firm beliefs and question everything. The world is proving to be much more devious, delirious, hidden than ever imagined. Trust no one that tends to know more than they do. Facts and data, science and reason will get you to the edge, the knowing and the blessing is within that brave leap into your abyss. It is dangerous but necessary to shed the evil accumulated into the self. Some call this falling into the safe hands of jesus, buddha, the great mystery. It is nameless in its terrain. ‘To die alive is to be free-riding a horse of truth’. So said, a night watchman.

a coffee. a like, a whisper.

WeyWord Times / Writing and Images by Patrick Wey

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