The Eighth Well

There are eight wells in existence through which the deep ground-water of the Self may be tasted. The first is the well-spring of Who I Am Being. Who I Am Being is not the whole of Me, but the hand I have put to the running Skit of Life for Now, the moment's role in the fullest sense of the word. My identity can be intelligent, dull, genuine or evasive, sincere, copied from another, borrowed or invented but it is momentarily a created lens of a temporary "I", no matter how genuine.

Further along in the rolling plains of Experience are found the second and third wells. The second is the thrilling fountain of personal creation. At a physical level it manifests as romance, love, sex and reproductive channels of effort, defense of the family, relating to the genetic patterns inherited or borrowed from Granpa, and so on. Mentally it feeds the stream of invention and learning and calculation.

Nearby, the third well is a sweet stream of creation as Union, the multiple identity of the Team; here the self's power forms cities, companies, networks, brotherhoods, classes, nations and races of all variety. School ties and brown skin and New England accents and redneck attitudes and Sanskrit surnames are all used to betoken the creations we are engaged in or separate from; and in the deep, the undeniable water table of the Self reaches on.

Approaching the fourth well-head, the music of Union gives way to the wonderment and laughter of wholeness in Kind. Man and woman here leave behind their separations, brown and red and pale faces are kindled in mutual recognition that the school is not one of group but of Kind; that the student is not the man but the species; and that the urge is not to conquer Men, but to renew and re-invent Mankind.

Below, the merry rills underfoot, out of the ken, laugh on.

In the gentle ripples of the Fifth, the voices of all forms of Life are joined in a single song of growing, a hymn sung by life for its own benefit, a cheer of recognition from every Form of Life for every other, according to its perceptions. The wing of the hummingbird and the mammoth tusk and the opposable thumb and the monoclonal antibody each hum their part in the music of the well-spring of life-forms, the power of the Infinite embodied in the language of the Finite.

Next over the beckoning hills is the Universe Voice of all energies, all spaces, all lights and times and dimensions; the very spring of spatial existence, of wavelength and particle dimension, of moment and mass, of century and angstrom and quark. This well seems indeed closer to a source than any before it. And, fathoms under, the groundwater tumbles in its passes, fastened in its course by an un-namable Intent.

Being Springs, in the Valley of Insight, is the name of the Seventh Well, whose strength is as all the previous ones combined. The song is high, sweet, like a reflection of pure sunlight, and clear. The voices of spiritual being combine from every face of every Name Named or UnNamed, every being who ever found himself within Creation. High and low and powerful and modest, All beings sing the rhythm of the Seventh Well. Here, the waters of spiritual existence purify all who come before them. Still, below, the groundwater seeks on.

The Eighth Well is Allah's Will, All-That-Is, the Eye of God's Tao and the Hand of the Sky Father, the flood of Valhalla and the tears of Zeus.. Now comes the endless Self to the higher strata, and encounters no let in its bold ultimate passage. Here in the Eighth Well, outpours the heart of Ground itself, of every power which ever preceded Thought; here the very Hand of Infinity passes in the stream of God's well. Here the water table denies no more, and finds in the fountain, its own reflection. Two Names of God, facing each other in the juncture, melt in the passage of the Breath that is the whole Self.

All vectors and all streams begin Here, and all galaxies and forms within them come back to this stream-head. And in the Breath is all that Shall be, begun, complete, renewed and returned Here. Here is the well of the Self, un-denied and unjudged, un-identified and un-explained, the wordless Certainty of the Whole which you are Now. The instant is born, the lifetime awaits its name, and the myth awaits its maker. Go forth from here girded by peace and fired in joy; allow it, and its unalloyed clarity will empower your heart forever.

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