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Not as the world gives,
give I unto you.
Yet my giving is but
your giving to yourself.
When will you choose to accept it?
August 17, 1988
“I just got a call from Wayne.”
I put the last touches on the flow chart I’ve been designing; hit the F7 key to save the document, then turn in my chair to look at Geoff. “You what?”
“I just got a call from Wayne.” Geoff is not smiling. In fact, a look bordering on pain is etched into his face. He glances at me, then at the floor. This does not feel good.
“What is going on these days back in Columbus?” I ask, referring to the headquarters of the software company that we work for. It has been a very satisfying relationship, and the future is bright.
Geoff turns his head away and looks out the window. Whatever it is, he certainly does not want to say it. “Wayne just told me that our paychecks might bounce.”
“Come again?” I am sure I did not hear what I heard.
“He said our paychecks might bounce.” Now Terry, our service technician, his ears perked by Geoff’s words, bounds into my office with an inquisitive look of disbelief.
Geoff continues. “Damn! There are apparently some big problems with money right now. I don’t know what is going on. Wayne may be the vice-president, but he doesn’t seem to know much himself. Something is hitting the fan back there.”
“What money problems?!” I interject. “We have done
$150,000 in business the last two months, and they can’t make salaries?”
Geoff winces. “I know, I know. Right now, I do not know what else to tell you. Damn!” His frustration explodes as he slams his fist into the wall, then takes a deep breath and sighs.
All three of us are on the phones to our banks, and the replies are the same. Our paychecks have bounced.
Frustration, anger, fear, confusion, and a sense of disorientation run rampant for the next several minutes. Finally we get through to Wayne, all three of us speaking at the same time from our individual office phones, until Wayne shouts for silence.
“Look! I am as much caught by this as you guys are. We thought we had
$200,000 in backing from our financiers, and so we’ve been leveraging our assets to expand our markets, like yours out there in Washington. But it’s been withdrawn. Maybe it wasn’t there, I don’t know. The bank has frozen our assets. There is no money available.”
The reality is beginning to sink in. It occurs to me to ask about the
commissions, especially the development fees due to us for the software
products we had designed for the company. An amount of
$10,000 is due to us in only 45 days.
After a long pause, Wayne speaks slowly. “It looks like all of it is history, Marc.”
“What about the checks due in a week for the month of August?”
Silence is the only answer any of us needs to hear.
By the end of the day, it hits me full force. I have lost two months’ salary, an additional few thousand in commissions, and - most significantly - my share of the development fees due on October 1st. That money is what I had joined this venture for. Even conservative royalty estimates had promised enough income to allow me to stop working every day in order to get to the next.
Then a paralyzing fear grips me. When all is said and done, I have enough funds to live through the month of October. And that’s it.
I finally raise my eyes from my financial records and stare out the window at blackness, seeing only my own reflection blankly staring back. Much time passes this way, simply staring as if transfixed at - and through - this transparent image of myself.
Thoughts begin to whirl, chasing each other round and around, visions of what would have been, visions of what I had expected, visions of imagined disasters yet to befall me, all of them whirling around a central axis of Wayne’s one message to us: “There is no money.”
But now, something shifts. The image and racing thoughts dissolve, replaced by feelings, energy pulsating through me. I feel it first in my solar plexus, then building and pushing through my chest. I involuntarily begin to breathe very deeply, and the energy continues moving upward. Its quality is transformed as it seems to fill my head now, and suddenly I burst out laughing. God, I am laughing as I have not laughed in years, maybe never! It is not the laughter of nervousness, nor of helplessness. It is the laughter of freedom!
I haven’t lost anything. No job has been lost, no royalties, no commissions - nothing. What has been lost is a weight, the weight of believing that I must strive to get ahead, to gain something I thought I did not have. No, nothing of any importance has been lost. The only thing that has happened is that a bubble has burst.
And as that realization sinks in, the phone rings.
“Hi, it’s Kendra. I know this is probably going to sound weird, but is everything all right?”
Struck by the uncanny timing of her call, as well as her question, I do not answer immediately, and so she continues. “I was getting ready for bed, and suddenly I had this overwhelming urge to call you and, well, for a moment I was actually a little frightened. Pretty crazy, huh?”
What strikes me is that too few of us trust our intuition enough to act on it, as she has done. Sitting in the hard-backed chair next to the phone, I tell her all that happened today.
“God, that is scary! I don’t know what I would do!” And, then, more softly, “What are you going to do?”
I pause, realizing I had not really thought about it, yet my answer comes quickly. “Well, I have my yoga classes which begin again soon. Maybe I’ll expand them, maybe even get busy and do some promotional work. And, well, I am going to write.”
The cat is out of the bag.
“Just what are you going to write?” Her voice betrays her suspicion that she already knows the answer.
“It feels like it is time to start… I mean, I am sitting here with no money to speak of, no idea what The Jeshua Letters is supposed to be. I feel like I am staring into a fog that obscures everything in front of me, yet I have the oddest feeling that the fog is utterly safe.”
Kendra asks the obvious. “How are you going to make it?”
“That is the strangest part. At least, it seems strange to me. It seems so clear - at the moment - that all these years I have believed there is some sort of security out there in the world, and now it is like waking up from a dream or something. My rational mind wants to insist that this is just a momentary setback, and that I should start scrambling around again to create that security. But a deeper part of me seems to know there is no need, no purpose, in pursuing that course any more.”
“Are you okay with that?”
I sigh, and Kendra is quiet, allowing me time to sort out my feelings. “Yes. Well, no. Well, I know it doesn’t make sense, and yet in that moment when the bubble burst - it somehow made perfect sense. It feels, well, like it is what I am supposed to be doing. It is that deeper feeling that overrides my reasoning mind shouting thoughts of fear and panic.”
Again, there is a long pause, as Kendra gives me room to continue my sorting.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m crazy. I guess the worst thing that can happen to me is that I’ll end up a bag lady.”
“A bag lady?”
“Yeah. I figure I’ll have to wear a disguise so no one will see how embarrassed I am.” We both laugh for a moment, then become silent again.
“Kendra, this is really affecting me. I mean, something is affecting me. This is not me, you know? I have no money to speak of, no job. I’m going through emotions over everything that happened so suddenly, like the rug just got swept out from under me. And yet beneath it all is this hidden, quiet sense of rightness. Like all of it is all right. Everything that happened, and everything that will happen.
“It confounds me, actually. Sometimes the rational voice within me becomes so loud that it seems to win me over, and I feel certain I am totally out to lunch, that I had better get my head back down into reality. But then that quiet, peaceful feeling re-emerges, and I feel very certain that what I am saying to you is what I am going to do. I am going to write the book.”
Again, there is a pause.
“So,” Kendra finally speaks, nearly at a whisper, “it’s happening. I mean, it is actually unfolding.”
“Remember Castaneda’s books?” I ask, knowing that they are among her favorites: “Remember when Carlos has to jump off the cliff into the black of night? Well, I feel like I have jumped without knowing I did so. Most of the time, it feels okay. But at other times I start kicking and screaming, even though I keep falling. And the falling feels absolutely right, no matter how strong my anxiety attacks are. It feels like it is happening in slow motion, yet I know that it is happening now, even as I speak with you.”
Hearing my own words magnifies the reality of it all. I have jumped off the cliff, one I never thought I would consider going near. I am going to make The Jeshua Letters public, and let come what may.
“When do I get to read it?” Kendra asks.
My reply comes so quickly that the words seem to rumble out even before I can think them. “The manuscript will be done around Christmas, and I’ll circulate a few copies among friends before I set about finding a way to publish it.”
By Christmas?! I haven’t even started transcribing the communications yet, nor do I have any idea what to do with them! Am I getting a taste of what it means to jump off the cliff?
“Mind if I share with you something really strange?”
She laughs, and her response to me is almost giddy.
“You mean all of this isn’t strange enough?”
“Kendra, during the past few weeks, sometimes in meditation, sometimes just doing whatever, an image of a woman has appeared in my mind. With it, Jeshua has suggested that I go see this woman. At first, I was at a loss, yet I felt I knew her, even though it isn’t someone I have ever met.
“Well, last week I suddenly remembered an old business associate who told me about a Christian mystic in Seattle he was quite fond of. It struck me deeply because he said that she ‘speaks with Jesus’.
“Anyway, I got her name and number, and gave her office a call. I’m scheduled to meet with her tomorrow. When I made the appointment, I had no idea how I would be able to get away from work. Surprise, surprise!”
Our conversation ends with Kendra’s unconditional support, together with her insistence that I tell her everything that happens when I meet with “that mystic lady.”
I am still fifteen minutes early, so I drive slowly by the stately old mansion - now named Gethsemane - which is both home and teaching center for Elizabeth Burrows. The box containing the communications is on the seat beside me, but it occurs to me not to show this to her. I do not so much want to talk about my experience as hear about hers. I’ll just stay in the closet for now, thank you.
Turning around a few blocks away, I return and park the car, acknowledging my nervousness as I climb the steps and open the leaded glass door. Why am I here? “Just go with the flow, Marc, just go with the flow. Trust, remember?” I think to myself, trying to relax, to slow my breath.
Ms. Burrows’ personal secretary greets me warmly and escorts me upstairs to the mystic lady’s office. I hear her secretary announce me and, as she steps aside, I see Elizabeth standing up - all five feet four inches of her - face beaming in a large smile, hand extended warmly. We are already as old friends - at least, it feels like it to me.
Her hair is cropped short, and she is dressed completely in white. Apparently hearing my unasked question, she explains: “I choose to wear white, you see, as it is the clothing worn by the Essenes, of which I was one, at the time of the Master.”
We fall easily into an intriguing conversation, talking about metaphysics, yoga, cosmic consciousness, her memories of life as an Essene, and her love for the Master, the one named Jesus. She is obviously very intelligent and well studied, and she speaks from personal experience about mystical states of awareness. In fact, she speaks of these things easily, as I might talk about the weather or a favorite restaurant.
“Elizabeth,” I interject, “I recently had an experience I would like to ask you about.”
Now I know why I left the communications in the box. I will not mention his name.
“I was sitting in meditation one day, when a being seemed to appear out of a field of golden light…”
I do not need to continue. A smile crosses her face; her eyes look not so much at me as through me, toward something, or someone who elicits a gentle joy, a love, a reverence, from her.
“Him?” I ask.
“Oh, I mean ‘He.’”
“No, I am certainly not correcting your English, but who is ‘Him’?”
She looks directly at me, and says, “Why, the Master Jesus, of course,” implying with her tone that I obviously knew it.
There is silence for a long moment, her eyes embracing me, and then she speaks. “I know now why you are here. There is something you are missing. Something He wants you to have. Please, follow me.”
Like a dutiful and innocent child, I do so, following her down the stairway, my hand gently running along the top of the polished, wooden handrail. At the bottom of the stairs we turn and enter the library.
After looking through the bookshelves for a few moments, she picks out two volumes; one small and very thin, the other much larger and thicker. “Here we are,” she says, handing them to me. “Our time together is now completed. I’ll leave you to show yourself out.”
Her departure catches me a bit by surprise, and after a moment I look down at books I have never seen before, even after twenty years of extensive study. The tiny book is entitled The Discovery of the Essene Gospel of Peace, the larger one is a rendition of the Gospel of Peace written by Elizabeth. Electricity is running through my fingertips and up into my arms.
I know it is time to leave, and I do so, holding the volumes to my chest, which feels warmer and warmer. All the way back to Tacoma, there is an unmistakable feeling of joy. Occasionally I reach down, letting my hand rest on the books, caressing them, smiling.
EVERYTHING IS AS IT SHOULD BE. TRUST.
Back in my apartment, I sit down in the living room, bathed in serene afternoon sunlight filtering through the blinds, books on my lap. Again, I run my hands over them, pulse quickening. She was right. These are what I was sent for. I know it without even reading them!
Not hurrying, savoring this experience of clarity, I open the larger book, and as I read, tears begin to come - tears of joy, tears of recognition. Beyond even the slightest trace of doubt, I know I am reading the teachings of the Master, of Jesus, of Jeshua.
A tremendous burst of energy moves rapidly up my spine, exploding in a flood of images, scenes, memories of another life - a life that is surely mine. As the images flow through me, felt in every cell, my tears flow freely, releasing a deep tension that has unwittingly held back the memories. The tears simultaneously seem to flood me, nurture me, and bathe me in a joy beyond words.
For a moment, I see with my mind’s eye the face of Jonah, and recognize the identity of the “Great One.” My teacher, my friend, my guru: Jeshua, the one called Jesus.
September 4, 1988
Now, we begin.
you have chosen to prepare a place for Me,
and so I come now unto you.
is it not without effort that
the Kingdom is entered?
What struggle must be experienced,
what obstacle overcome?
Is not such perception founded on the belief
that illusion is Reality?
Never are you separate
from your Holy Father.
You simply choose to insist that you are.
Herein is the birth
of all struggle,
Penetrate this truth wholly,
and illusion will be no more.
Shall we tarry longer?
The Father awaits
the return of the Son,
with patience born
of incomprehensible love.
There are no wrong turns in your journey,
nor in anyone’s.
You know this is madness to the world,
but the world is madness.
This day I shall speak only briefly,
for what needs to be shared is simple.
I await you just beyond the edge
of your resistance to a purpose
I AM the end of your pain,
which the journey of Separation is.
You are but a breath away now,
yet your resistance is your path
to the abode of the Father.
Embrace every moment of your experience wholly.
This will quicken the process
of final release.
The Jeshua Letters is the beginning
of our work together;
your purpose is to allow it
into the fabric of illusion
which traps the Father’s Son.
It is the creation of another door
leading from illusion to Reality.
Enlightenment is inevitable.
Remember this always
as you gaze upon your fellow dreamers.
Serving the Atonement
is to know the effortless joy
of the Father’s will.
All else is but resistance to this.
I am always here,
and will participate with you
in this most joyous work
of atoning the momentary imagination
whenever you choose to recognize Me,
instead of the world.
Peace unto you.
September 7, 1988
Now, we begin.
I would ask that you pause
in the movement of your dream,
that I might share with you this moment.
I am not lost to you,
and I assure you that
you are not lost to Me.
“Lift up a rock, and there
you shall find Me also.”
How long will you choose to wait
for what is necessarily inevitable?
The Dreamer will, indeed, awaken.
To see with new eyes
is to transform the world,
which is entirely of your making,
from a world of darkness
into a world of Light.
To see with new eyes
requires only that you abandon
those perceptions which already
you know cannot work.
The Kingdom you seek
cannot be found where you are.
It is, however,
where I AM.
The distance between us is never
more than this simple choice:
to release your insane insistence
on separation from your Holy Father.
I am Jeshua.
I am available to you whenever
you decide to choose
to know Me.
There is not the least difficulty in this,
for it is simply to choose
to truly be who you already are,
and have forgotten.
As you come to know Me,
the recognition will dawn that what I AM
as the substance of all things.
As you come to know Me,
the recognition will dawn
that you are already all
that I represent
to the consciousness of humanity.
As you come to know Me,
the recognition will dawn that
there is no distance to travel,
no growth to occur, no error to correct,
your insane perception of yourself
as separate from Me.
You are as a rich man
who travels forth with a purse
of jewels and gold coins,
searching constantly for the treasure
he is certain is there for him,
forgetting the purse clutched
tightly in his hands.
Consider this image,
and allow it to transform your perception,
for this is a very accurate image
of what you have chosen to be.
You are entirely free to make your choice anew.
Remember always that the
truth of the Kingdom is utterly beyond
the capacity of your world.
seek not guidance from the world,
for it cannot lead you
to what lies beyond the world:
and the treasure you seek
in all your longings.
I am with you always,
though rarely do you recognize Me.
I am the very heart of what you are,
though you struggle to deny it.
When you release your Dream -
which is wholly insane -
the Reality of who you are
will alone remain.
Herein lies the end
of your travel.
Herein lies peace.
Herein, I AM.
Come home to Me.
Come home to your true Self,
and celebrate with Me this one fact:
“I and My Father are One.”
Peace be unto you,
My beloved brethren.
Not as the world gives,
give I unto you.
Yet My giving is but
your giving to yourself.
When will you choose to accept it?
October 4, 1988
Now, we begin.
It is not without much hesitation
that I come forth unto you
at this time.
This hesitation occurs because
there is again a resistance building within you,
though at very subtle levels.
During this pivotal transformation
you are moving closer than ever before
to dissolution in Me.
It is a time of critical importance,
for the ego -
the habit of separation -
will rise yet more steadfastly
to block this from occurring.
To the conscious mind it appears
that all is well,
but at very refined,
very deep levels,
I assure you that it is not.
I hesitated to come forth,
for it was possible that the resistance
would again be your habitual choice,
thus rebuilding the wall we have
worked so diligently to dismantle.
I am pleased that -
in a very critical moment of this contact -
you chose in your soul to open to Me.
lt was at this point that
the clear vision of Light appeared to you,
and you beheld various images
granting recognition of My presence.
You are very much like a warrior
engaged in your last battle.
The “enemies” take on subtler form,
and can therefore go unnoticed.
It was I who spoke to you this morning,
suggesting you arise.
It is a great truth that receptivity to guidance
is most present during the time
of the early morning.
A touch of sleepiness,
I might add,
enhances the receptivity.
Come into the mountains tomorrow.
Do not allow the “shoulds”
of your illusion to take precedence.
The emotions you have been feeling -
beginning last evening
are the result of your denial of Me.
This you well know.
You have chosen to participate
in the bringing forth
of a knowledge so sublime,
as to seem ungraspable.
It is the knowledge of living in Christ wholly.
I reiterate that this
is a crucial time for you.
Let not your path be shaken.
All the universe moves to support you at this time,
as it does whenever -
and wherever -
a soul stands on the brink
of fully awakening.
Do not allow your habit -
born of Separation -
force yet another denial of this support.
To the degree you allow support,
support is given.
This is the bounty of your Father’s table.
This communication brings forth no new teaching.
What has been given forth as The Jeshua Letters
is now finished.
The completion of this project is inevitable now.
Following this shall come
specific guidance from us,
and I shall continue to refine this Teaching as required,
for the benefit of the many levels
of human consciousness.
when you journey to your mountains,
you will establish contact
with an entity -
a soul -
who will begin to give forth to you
the wisdom of the earth,
which you have asked for.
I well perceive your incredulity.
“God, another one!?” you think to yourself.
Is it not time to simply
be what you have chosen:
a messenger of the heart,
opening, receiving, and sharing
the wisdom of perfect knowledge
to assist in the awakening of man?
This is not a grand thing,
but the simplest of the simple:
the inevitable conclusion to the drama
for Light cannot be ultimately denied.
the consciousness of man
will bask in the glory of the Son’s remembrance
and allow your return to Light
to be fulfilled.
I manage to get to Kendra’s just as she is pulling out of her driveway for the one-hour ritual drive to work.
“Take a moment and read this, will you?” I hand her the communication, and, for a moment, she looks at me with an unspoken question in her eyes. She probably isn’t used to having people pull into her driveway at 7:30 in the morning insisting that she stop to read things like this. She shivers suddenly. As she finishes reading, she hands it back to me, and I detect a trace of tears in her eyes.
“It’s finished,” she says with quiet resolution. “You know, I didn’t shiver because I’m cold.”
She turns and walks back to her car, slides in, closes the door, and rolls the window down. “So, what are you going to do now?”
“Well, it seems I am in quite a spot, aren’t I?”
Her face is quizzical. “What do you mean?”
“Kendra, the only way I will ever know if any of this is valid is to do it, all of it. Not just write the book, but strive to live it. Only, what Jeshua talks about doesn’t seem to be the kind of thing one can learn to do. It seems you either choose to be it, or you don’t.”
She nods her head, looking at the dashboard. “I know. I think, sometimes, we all know it.” Lifting her head, she gazes out through the windshield, her eyes focused on nothing in particular.
“Yes, I think we all know it. But living it seems to be another matter.”
Now she looks back at me. “I suppose I better get on to work, or is it back to my dream? So, what are you up to for the rest of the day?”
It had been my intention to spend the day looking for work. I guess my rational side had been winning the battle. I shrug my shoulders and smile. “I’m going to the mountains.”