Six Conversations

Master Marinee knew her death was imminent. Her health had been steadily declining since the fall. She told no one and no one suspected that her health was failing. She seemed to have her usual vigor. She was a very active woman and enjoyed taking long walks everyday. She often walked alone and enjoyed communing with the internal and external environment. Her walks in the last week were more and more of a shorter duration. The last few days she ambled only a few yards and sat on a flat rock by the river.

The river; how she loved the river. She loved walking in its’ waters and she loved the spirit of its flow. She also loved the rocks and boulders that were worn down by the rivers constant flow. She thought of her body as a rock that was worn down by the flow of the river of life. She thought of her life – the performances she had been called on to play. Yes, their was the child, the wife, the mother, the spiritual aspirant (one of her favorite roles), the spiritual teacher/artist/friend and finally as the final curtain call was to occur: ‘The Master’. She had earned the title of Master by having given everything to the Life. What she meant by ‘The life’ was her work of serving what was unaware of its’ true Self – those that call themselves ‘The Other’. She served ‘The other’ by making them her loved Ones so they could learn to release what they were so proud of. And they were proud and knew not their real condition of humility. They were even proud of the flaws they had and the mistakes they had committed. They knew not about love but only entitlement of pleasure.

At first, before they lost some of their pride (through her skillful means), they scorned Love as weakness and stupidity. She was very patient and lived with them; suffering all their ordinariness and everyday bad moods. Slowly, and it took many years, they were unable to defy her any longer and their tantrums quieted down. They adjusted to Her and Her Wisdom and released their foolishness of special me; entitled me. They couldn’t imagine ever leaving her. She was their bloodline; their current of life – the River that nourished them. So, their sense of Other softened and broke apart like the boulders cracked by the rivers constant wearing down. And they began to feel that they weren’t the special one; the separate one – the significant Other, instead they were flowing in the Big Heart of their Master. They loved their life in Her. They were aging; advancing in years and a few of them dissolved completely into her flow and let go into the forever. Forever free. This is the work of a Master and that is what Marinee Is.

Marines knew that her time on Mother Earth was almost finished. Her body was well worn down. It ran on what she called ‘her impulse’ – attracting energy power. She always followed what attracted her. It was her way of loving and her way of loving knew no borders. She was as passionate as a blazing sun but her passion only burned impurity. Passion drove her and attraction showed her where to go. On her passionate drives, she met an everyone and an everything and always registered ‘the need’. The need – was it great? Or modest? Or ignored and largely hidden? If it was great, she would put her car into park and stay awhile. If it was modest, she gave a clue; a positive sign – perhaps a healing and then, she was on her way. If she parked her car in your garage, you were very, very lucky. Your need would be fulfilled far beyond your comprehension. You would become perfect and you would be on your way to earning the humble title of Master.

She was contented with her loved ones. She was contented that her work was well given. She felt it was time to let herself go to the river. Each day she visited the river, she felt that this might be her last day. Her breath would stop and her body would relax and release fully. Each day was like this – this full relaxation and release and this went on for many days but the river wouldn’t release her permanently. She wondered why and asked, “River, everyday I release this body/mind to you and I am surprised that everyday you return me back to the body/mind. Why is this?”

The river was quiet and didn’t speak to her. It just continued its’ flow. The Earth spoke up instead and six boulders that lay to her left and right vibrated louder to get her attention. She gazed to her left and then her right and the biggest boulder spoke Earth words to her. “Please dear sister, I mean Master, do not give up your mortal frame just yet. There are six of us that believe ourselves to be the Other. We believe this under much duress. Our hearts have become hardened inside these boulders of assumption and we beg you to release them. Though we live by the river we are untouched. We long for the touch of the river of your compassion and we don’t know how to get to You – how to get to our very Self. We cannot even ask for mercy, we have become so hardened. The Earth is speaking for us as we are too hardened and too stupid to understand our dilemma. We are six big fools living on this Earth; where you have made your home.”

Marinee spoke to her dear friend Earth. “You are a great Mother; these rocks – these boulders of other, . . . I will not give the great release to my form yet, I will find them and tell them the truth face to face – Heart to Heart. My passion will drive me and their need will be my attraction. Mother Earth, you are a great, great, Mother to speak for those that cannot speak.”

Mother Earth loved Marinee the most of all – of all the living things and creatures that lived on her skin. She always collaborated with Marinee and as Marinee loved to drive; it was upon Mother Earth that she traveled. They were very close and trusted each One (not other!) very much. Marinee’s work was not yet finished. She trusted that her body would endure for the task ahead. She still had much to say; to reveal. The wake up call was heard and Marinee got her passport, gassed up her car and hit the open road. Mother Earth was with her every mile of the Way.

Conversation One

“I Am The Ocean Wherein Lies The Soul Of The Artist”

Sayed loved opening night. All his work was set up on beautiful pedestals with the best lighting to showcase his multi-facetted colored vases. This was his best collection to date and his work was flourishing and in demand. Many collectors were eager to see his work and purchase it. If all went well, his entire collection could sell for $350,000. He had some purchases he wanted to make with the money. He needed a vacation, to rest, relax and research for new inspiration. He loved his work and felt he would never tire of it. He felt inspiration was limitless; it flowed down on him like the Niagara Falls. Life is good, he thought.

Sayed loved opening night. He loved to watch the art patrons look at his vases. Their expressions relayed to him that their hunger for beauty was being satisfied. He saw their eyes widen as they took in the colors and shapes of the vases. He saw them exclaim in a whisper, “Wow, this is beautiful.” He saw that (like him) they wanted to possess beauty for their private pleasure – to be re-visited as often as they desired. Beauty; to find it, to own it in an object that would endure, consoled them from the disappointment of what was unacceptable, what was aging – how they themselves could not be beauty; that they themselves were deteriorating. To possess beauty, to possess the beauty that he made was to defy what was aging and dying in them. Beauty was a necessary meal to feed off the disappointment of a life that is always passing away. People could not feel their own beauty because the deterioration of their own vessel (their bodies) was inevitable and frightening. They hungered for beauty outside themselves in objects created by talented artists. It was a lucrative business for Sayed; one that gave him a noble purpose. He was that pompous.

He noticed the elderly woman looking intently at his most expensive vase. Ah, he thought to himself, she has good taste, that vase was my most difficult vase. It had involved inventing a new technique to bring about the results he wanted. He loved inventing new techniques to further his vision for his work, the how to was the most fun for him.

The elderly woman will definitely buy that vase, he thought. He knew that she had made her decision. The gallery owner caught his eye and they both nodded in agreement. The gallery owner approached the woman and explained to her all about the subtleties of the vase and why it was a wise purchase for her collection. She didn’t need any convincing, she was ripe for the sale. The owner pointed him out to her.

He watched her as she made her way to him. Time seemed to stand still and though her arrival would be imminent, it felt like it was taking all of eternity for her to get to him. Or maybe, he thought, it will take all of my time to get to her. She attracted him, but he didn’t know why. She appeared very aged, at the conclusion of her life. The force of her attractiveness contradicted everything he knew and felt about beauty. He wanted to possess the quality of her attractiveness but he didn’t know how to invent a technique to employ it or own it for himself. Her unknowable beauty frightened him and he wanted to turn away and avoid the meeting altogether.

“Hello, are you the artist?” she asked.

“Sayed put on his usual confident air and said, “Yes, I am.”

“Good,” she said. “I am the ocean wherein lies the soul of the artist.”

Sayed could sense that she was speaking from a place of great authority unlike his put on confidence. But how could this old lady gain or have such an authority? Why did she both attract and frighten him?

“If you really have the ability to see beauty, then really look. Really look at me.”

He wanted to dismiss her and turn away but the force of her challenge attracted him. He was surprised at how much he wanted to meet her challenge. It was also terrifying him. He wanted to avoid this confrontation with her beauty but he knew that as an artist; a maker of beautiful objects, he needed to see deeper – beyond form; into the essence of beauty, he needed to see her. This was the point of all his work. To see her; he could be seen. This vulnerability scared him and he wanted to turn away. He had no power of his own to do that. He was faced with a bigger power than his own power to control and create. He was faced with an attraction that denied his authority. It humbled him. He looked and he saw she spoke to him directly, not to his mind but to the longing in his heart. This longing had nothing to do with his drive for success. It was a longing for recognition; to be able to see and embrace What-It-Is- He-Is, beyond the persona of creative artist. He felt vulnerable, naked and he saw himself begin to dissolve. His hands unclenched and broke apart his whole form. Why, it was nothing, just meat and bone held together by fear. He felt a gripping clench around his heart and it hurt greatly. The clench was where all his fear lived and contained him.