The Way It Is

There is a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.

William Stafford

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I was taking the long road to school from Klein-Huningen, where we lived, to Basel, when suddenly for a single moment I had the overwhelming impression of having just emerged from a dense cloud. I knew all at once: now I am myself! It was as if a wall of mist were at my back, and behind that wall there was not yet an “I.” But at this moment I came upon myself. Previously I had existed, too, but everything had merely happened to me. Now I happened to myself. Now I knew: I am myself now, now I exist. Previously I had been willed to do this and that; now I willed. This experience seemed to me tremendously important and new: there was “authority” in me.

Carl Jung – Memories, Dreams, Reflections

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My name is John Patrick Williams. I was born on July 28, 1994 in Amherst, NY. I’m a Leo Sun, Aries Moon, and Virgo Rising. I’m an Enneagram 9 and my Human Design is a Manifesting Generator. My parents are kind. They share their love freely and openly. I was raised in a safe home. All my needs were met and I felt immense love every day. I always knew I was safe and protected. I was encouraged to explore and experiment and create. I was given space to be. When I messed up, my parents said it’s okay, try again. They still say it today. I had the type of upbringing I hope every child is graced with—loving, safe, and empowering. I turn 29 years old this month and I’m still growing up. 

When I was young, I remember being aware of a certain emotional detachment and awareness that some of my peers seemed to lack, or lose sight of in their frantic activity. I remember this feeling at different times in my life. I almost cringe at myself naming it. A feeling of uniqueness like that, real or imagined, is fascinating. It’s a window into the inner experience of myself. I’ve always been so curious about experience. What do we actually see and how do we make sense of it? What do we miss? And then at times tune into? What is the true nature of our experience? Can we ever detach some essence of it from the narratives we create around it? How many different ways can I see one thing? How do I actually see myself? How do I see the world? What story am I telling myself? These are powerful and at times frightening questions to ask. Lately, I’ve been aware of how often I ask questions like these and then move on. I ask them like taking another hit from a joint, hoping they do something to me rather than doing something with them. I refuse to continue stirring the pot—waiting with a fearful and desperate hesitation for it to stir me.    

I’ve always been an athlete. What a special thing to say and believe about oneself. I know so many people who don’t think they are athletic. Or rather, I know people who don’t remember and believe in their athleticism. They don’t engage it and experiment with it. I’m lucky to believe in my athletic ability—it frees me to explore movement and sports like golf and tennis and skiing. Even as I cringe at myself for the privilege I feel attached to these activities, engaging them continues to free my soul. They give my body space to create. They help me explore the role my mind plays within these spaces. They expand my sense of what is possible in human experience. They also remind me of something innate – something asking for my attention. Whenever I really stop to listen, this something says “play play play!” It tells me to create with enthusiasm and freedom and intention. It says, “Yes please! Let’s make an offering back.”

Movement frees my mind. It helps me engage and channel my thoughts rather than deny them or try to suppress them. I spend a lot of time in my head. A lot of time alone. And a lot of time high—thinking and reflecting, remembering and forgetting, making connections and setting intentions, then forgetting in the morning. Recently, I’ve been sharing more about my addictive tendencies with people close to me. I’ve found the courage to say I am an addict. To own the reality I face in my life and my inner experience that is controlled in ways I do not like by substances. Which is really to say by fear and desire and selfishness. Like the questions posed earlier, I so easily say that and move on. Or get on with it. Back to business as usual. The reality of addiction that I face is present for me in every moment of my life. It gets in the way. It is also part of who I am and the lessons I continue to learn from it will serve me for life. They help me serve others in similar positions. They help me see the world and human beings more generally with sincere warmth and tenderness and love. Because it’s how I hope to be seen and received. I’ll always advocate for softness and gentleness in dealing with these types of conditions. I’ll always push back against blame and coercion and guilt. I’ll always condemn the whip. Our experiences are each our own—we deserve to feel loved and supported in our struggle and engagement with them. It is our path to walk. This feels important for me to say.

I continue to feel incredibly selfish, in everything I share and in all the ways I meet the world. I sense this deep selfish neediness and possessiveness. This desire for the world to give me something first. I take and I take. I consume and hope I don’t get found out or held accountable. Even as I ignore the birds singing, asking me to join in, and the flowers reaching for the sun, saying it’s all already given. Why don’t I feel it? Why do I still seek it in other people and in substances? Or in God, whom I’m still waiting to find me. To deliver me. To walk the path for me. To complete me.  

My name is John Patrick Williams and my God is my own. My God speaks to me every night in my dreams. It whispers to me through my spirit animal and tarot cards. It smiles out at me in the morning sunlight as I ride my bike down Highway 1 and in the beautiful flowers so abundant here at Esalen. It soars above me in the enthusiastic play of my flighted friends and guides. It offers itself through every being I meet in my day—the ones who delight and the ones who upset. My God is there within my delight and my upset, my enthusiasm and my tired separateness. It’s there with me at my fullest and brightest and also still there smoldering in my darkest and loneliest. My God is Abraxas, who is God and the Devil at the same time. In Demian, Herman Hesse writes, “You will find in him both the world of light and of shadows. Abraxas is not opposed to any of your thoughts or to any of your dreams, but he will abandon you if you become normal and unapproachable. He will abandon you and look for another pot in which to cook his thoughts.” I will not abandon my God. My faith is that Abraxas has never abandoned me.

I was given another gift a couple weeks ago when I opened to a page in Thomas Merton’s The Seven Storey Mountain in which he writes, “The big gift God gave me was that I got well.” The big gift God continues to give me is the chance to try again. To begin anew. To get well. My God is with me. Here I remember and there I forget. Through it all, my God is still here, strengthened by every religious tradition I’ve studied and every spiritual system or practice I encounter. Always finding new and exciting avenues and pathways in which to play. I love how my God lets me play with these hanging threads of Truth, as I grasp at the ones that resonate and spark something in me. I love how my God says, “Grasp!” Be human. Be selfish. Be an addict. Be who you are! But be with it. All of it. Love and be in and of this world. Tend to your body and your home. Make it more healthy and beautiful because you care. Because you want selfishly to give selflessly. 

I love my God—and therefore I love you, and me, and our world. What a beautiful thing to write and feel and believe. What a beautiful God to carry with me. My Abraxas, God and the Devil, love and hate, life and death, light and darkness, pleasure and pain, remembering and forgetting. My God of Both/And. As above so below. As within so without. And as with you so with me, I try to remember. My name is John Patrick Williams, I am almost 29 years old, and I am in service to my God. All I need is already given. It is abundant and overflowing. It is asking for my love and attention. And here I am with the chance to give it.

I’ve spent over a year wondering when I’d write my next blog post. I did it without thinking on July 1st, 2023 at 6 pm in 30 minutes. 

Clarity of Intention. Full Commitment.
Freedom Within. No Resistance.

Thank you.

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Oh lord, to see a light, but fail in strength to follow
Sometimes it’s hard to let it go.

Oh lord, to fail in heart, and each day grow more hollow
Sometimes I just don’t want to know.

But the road that led me here, it’s begun to disappear
Sometimes I wonder where I am.

Oh lord, to hear a voice, but let it fade and wallow
Sometimes it’s hard to let it go.

Oh lord, to find the words, but keep them in and swallow
One day the top is gonna blow.

But the road that left me here, it’s begun to disappear
Sometimes I wonder who I am.

Oh lord, to stumble blind, for years without knowing
Sunrise has burned my eyes again

Oh lord, to crumble quiet, watching from the silence
Sunrise has burned my eyes again

It’s a seven-story mountain. It’s a long, long life we live.
Got to find a light and fill my heart again.

It’s a seven-story mountain. It’s a long, long life ahead.
Got to find a voice and fill my throat again.

Railroad Earth – Seven Story Mountain

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