The Most Sacred Thing

The Road Man

Humans have become obsessed with objects. For good reason, their ancestors migrated suddenly away from this plane of existence. Thus leaving those that were behind distressed beyond their imaginings. Those humans had become so good at shifting to other worlds that this world was no longer necessary to stabilize their perceptions. Thus those left behind began to create objects and items to fixate the assemblage points here.

At first these focal points allowed the trained eye to see beyond and within. This benefited their abilities to maintain connection through dreaming to what their forefathers had taught and learned. These channels also maintained connections to history and to each other across vast distances. One could think of it as a spiritual/mental Internet. But with time, and continued power struggles from the predator, the object became more important than the energy it held.

Dreaming took on a morbid obsession with creating. What we saw within the dream, we demanded to create in reality. Great cities and structures to say nothing of alters and focal points were created. We elevated the past stories to the level of gods. Where the ancients understood the mystery and the unknown without words honoring the mother as the creator of life, these twisted seers became obsessed with technologies of spirit and specific manifestations of the unknown, not the unknown.

The infinite mystery was replaced by the hero, the gods and goddesses, the lesser-known pathways tied to possessing and creating things. The more things, the more defense, the more defense, the more army and power structures, the more power structures the more demand on the people to provide wealth to the few to protect it all. Ultimately, these seers and power mongers became associated with the gods they had only seen in dreams. Because they desperately needed to have and to hold the most sacred thing.

The way out was language and law. Covenants and binding contracts became the necessary response to the despot tyrant. But the tyrant never went away. Convinced that freedom meant the ability to create and possess our own things, the great gathering and explosion of technology was soon to follow. Law lead to mercantilism, hiding the predatory pharaoh behind every system. Petty tyranny grew in every corner of human culture consuming every last bit of energy. The corporate god or the home-owner trapped behind locked doors. The bank mogul or the small business owner all manifestations of the same obsession with the pharoahonic model of eternal control over the most sacred thing.

Myths twisted the ancient’s connection to the infinite and the celebration of life, into a sacrificial vessel. That vessel, that guiding principle was in fact the very dominion of the predator and the maintenance of the sacred thing, now forgotten in a distant past, hidden under a pile of objects we were convinced we really need.

When we look around today, we see all these most sacred things. Our homes are filled with things that at one time were the number one most sacred thing, which helped us, move towards enlightenment or at least some form of evolution. Think about the cup in your hands in the morning coffee ritual. Once pottery was a very sacred act of creation, at the level of the gods. So much so that to place anything into a cup and smash the cup was a gift to spirit itself, because the creation of it was alignment with the gods. Now we have dozens of these in cabinets and thrift stores with left over vessels of infinite beauty and ugliness. Smashing no longer being sacred, we hold onto things with a vengeance. Consider the rest of the objects we are surrounded with.

Art, creation, is a dance with the sacred. We have become obsessed with the production of the object, over the fluidity of the perception that is behind creation. The Toltec can wake this ancient way up. Not with reckless abandon, nor with morbid dreaming obsession, but with careful stalking of the energy behind the universe of objects themselves. Art can point the way to the wordless truth. Even words themselves, when aligned with silence, can hint at it all. But we must be willing to destroy before we can create, empty the cup before we can fill it again, point to the moon without getting lost in the finger, leave the temple and seek out the emptiness of truth.

Consider the most sacred thing. Then consider what we could do without it… What we could do without all the most sacred things. What we could really do, create, be.