The Holy Unknown – The Brink of Creation

Look around you. What do you see of the people who are in your sphere of life? Some are kind and joyful and will extend their arms to embrace you and love you. Others are cold and blank and unable to feel the heart that lives so deep inside their body. This is the way it is. No matter how hard we try to change that dynamic it is here to stay, for now, a potent reality. We have activists performing extraordinary challenges to make changes in our social structure. They pour into the daily dynamic a body and a voice that shouts pleas for change. This is the nature of the third-dimensional conflict. Pull and push, push and pull. But there are others, not as visible, not as strident. They move in subtle ways. They emit their force with the grace of the deeper energetic waves of consciousness. Like the Tao of QiGong, their force moves silently, with the power of a thunderous herd. This is the wisdom of The Holy Unknown. We play into it every day. It is our destiny’s walk. And walk we must, because only death will cease the search. Until next time. 


Chapter Thirty –

The Brink of Creation

The way is clear. I stand and follow our guides out onto the

ground beside our time-craft. Uussuk and Brethmoral bow low and

quite suddenly dissolve into thin air, without so much as a

fare-thee-well. Lieutenant Siler is taken aback briefly, but quickly regains

composure; she’s seen a lot by now and it’s become more difficult

to surprise her. She smiles at me and looks over to Ab’th and Iya.

They seem to be sensing something that eludes me.

We are standing now outside the time-craft on the barren, dead

Earth of some nine billion years in the future. I mumble aloud,

“What do you suppose has happened to our guides?”

Iya answers, “They have gone to prepare a way for us here. We

have been invited to join their team, to assist in the Grand Reunion.

I am honored to be part of it—for now, or whenever.”

“I’m afraid I was about to decline the offer,” the lieutenant interjects,

somewhat chagrinned. “I do feel a strong urge to get back

to my own time, to my Air Force unit. But once I really thought

about it—about leaving you all now—I couldn’t go. It made me realize

about how important this crazy adventure has become to me.

So, I decided I needed to see it through, and stay with this unit. I

guess I’ve become a part of your family, as much as I’m a part of my

other one, too.”

I look at her only half seriously, “Yeah. We do kind of grow on

each other after a while. We’ve gotten used to ‘us’. Who else would

believe what we’ve seen. And besides, I’m sure that frozen moment

in time in Toronto will still be frozen as long as you need it to be.

Time can be pretty inscrutible, sometimes.”

Siler smiles and nods her head, affirming. Then she embraces

me lightly, patting my shoulders. Iya walks over and touches my

arm with her hand; a full, hearty embrace follows. Her head barely

reaches my chin. She says nothing. Ab’th follows suit, looking deeply,

dreamily into my eyes, as she always has. She is like a wise, beautiful,

human cat—an evolved version of the Cheshire in Alice in

Wonderland. Her words purr, “Dream on, brother.”

I feel very gifted to know these fellow travelers. Their presence

is part of mine now. With no more words, but with each one’s eyes

staring at me, they abruptly all vanish into the air. I regard the emptiness.

I’m feeling a bit left out, and left behind. I haven’t been invited to join

the work of Uussuk and the others. I’m standing apart, squinting against

the weak light of this old, old sun. Then I realize they have not disappeared

into the air at all. There is no air here! Nevertheless, again,

somehow I’m breathing. Magical technology!

The time-craft and I stand on the ground, alone. I wonder if it,

too, will disappear and leave me completely by myself—just as I

was when Omis first brought me here. I take the opportunity to

look at it carefully. Its silver metal surface gleams soft and peaceful

in the pale light. The pallid hue from the sun shows a suppleness

and vibrancy. Its sheen dances microscopically before my eyes.

The more I look, the more difficult it is to know exactly what

that surface is. I realize I can actually see through the metal, into the

interior. The life force of the vehicle draws my vision in. Its presence

is evident. However, it seems to be pulsing rapidly in and out of this

time frame; as a result the image becomes transparent to my eyes.

I see, not just into the inside chamber, but into other spaces as

well. There are phantom images of various realms and times, held

graphically, alchemically, in the portal of this ship. There is a faint

impression of Omis there too, but she is ephemeral, a ghost angel

hovering on the edge of existing and not. She is orchestrating. I

hear flute music, faintly drifting in time with the images that flow

and fade. Omis is a musician as well as a muse!

I wait. I wonder. What shall I do? My eyes float away from the

ship and regard the Earth. It too vibrates back and forth between

existence and nothingness. There is a dry, bleak horizon, dark from

long exposure to physical ravages of time. This is the outflow. On the

inflow, I’m sensing something quite different; it is the newly created

sub-dimension of the Grand Reunion of souls.

Life has returned for a season upon these barren rocks. It covers

over and reaches down with roots of ancestral elegance, composed

over the millennia by grand and delicate evolutionary forces.

Transplanted life reaches up into glistening castles of green, vibrating

abundance. Waters rush down the far hillsides and fill lakes and

seas. Weather has flushed again the atmosphere with great clouds

and shining rains, feeding vitality into the land. I sense the bodies of

creatures moving with grace through meadows and forests and villages


I see my small band of friends moving away now along a winding

path, talking together with excitement and a keen eagerness to

work and play in this reclaimed world, to move into their recalibration

of the vast past. They catch my attention and wave briefly.

I again feel a pang of abandonment and distance. Part of me

wants to go with them and explore the ages of great civilizations

over billions of years, hundreds of evolutionary cycles, to be part of

this lavish, titanic project. These friends will engage the thousandyear

mission of Uussuk and Brethmoral—to touch back and arouse

the many species of Earth each in their time of iconic change.

Their Reunion mission is one of unbelievable scope and scale.

It rests upon the shoulders of these gathered trillions of souls. They

will soon commence to fly out along the immense timeline of the

planet, back into every era at the most critical time periods. They

will rise in their silver machines and in other unknown means, conceding

no temporal boundaries or material limitations.

I envy the task, though I cannot begin to comprehend its depth.

Perhaps no one individual can fully understand it, this godlike ambition.

Once accomplished, it will forever alter the fabric of our nature

and the very essence of who we will have become. It will be a

transformation like no other. The Earth, with all its creatures, will

have an entirely novel, collective purpose and destiny—a wholly

new identity, formed in Oneness.

Who and what shall we all be when these gathered shepherds at

last reach the last day of one thousand years? I cannot know. I wish

in fact not to know—not until then. I choose consciously to embrace

an integral partnership with my soul and the Holy Unknown. That

is where we all become our destiny. That is where we all drive our

incarnate forces toward their prize—that hallowed partnership.

We are all the better for our not knowing the fullness of our mission

and the height of our collective, cosmic reach. All the species

that have ever evolved on this Earth are here right now, in forms

ephemeral and re-embodied. They toil in joy to reveal themselves to

an ultimate planetary fruition. The outcome of this work will surely

be greater than the sum of all our parts, of all the imagination of

countless multitudes thus engaged. And this, as I have been told, is

the reunion of souls. It will reach out beyond our humble planetary

bounds, renewing and empowering trajectories throughout the

whole grand Cosmos itself.

The simple task at hand is perhaps the finest that a soul can

conceive. It is to revisit all the major stages of awakening throughout

the history of all the tribes of souls who have shared this globe,

and to instill within that history, a precision of clarity and sensibility

that was never present during the first time around. The vast renewal

will quench an inborn thirst churning up from all creatures,

from the very beginning of evolution and from spirit’s primal immersion

into form.

The forms will change. Indeed, all creation will change, all evolution

of form and function—in every corner of every species’ place

on Earth. Each tribe will at last find its true Self and the knowing of

its part in the destiny of the whole, so long hidden in our hearts and

genes. It has always been within. We have always sought it—

through the vast ages of instinct, intellect, intuition and fruition. It

is all returning to the one and only Atom of our heritage. It is indeed

a boundless bountiful simplicity—as Orange said from the first.

The multitudes of Earthly generations hearken now to the message

descending into their midst. It is the true marriage of formlessness

and form. Simple ideas—love and peace and truth—will find

their ‘times’ have come, in ways perhaps never dreamt. Opportunities

not taken in the distant past will be taken up again. They will be

received and initiated into the ways of civilization and consciousness.

A new cloth will be woven from the old and revitalized

threads, to be blanketed out upon the holy bedrock.

My mind reels. Enough. I appreciate but a tiny fraction of the

grand picture. But it is enough for my humble mind. Each of us

partakes as we can of the entirety. Mysteriously, the whole is hidden

away in our tiny parts; that is, embedded in molecules of personal

appreciation. Miraculously, I am not exploding with the realization of

this scheme. But this is enough for my mind right now. It might be

better if I could explain the fullness of this colossal undertaking. But

I cannot. I only sense around the fringes. Each of us minds what we

can. That is precisely sufficient. I know this. Just enough knowledge

comes straight to each of us out of the Holy Unknown to suit our

station and capacity, our mission.

I feel a chill in the airless space around me. Upon this renewed

Earth, I look back into the time-capsule craft from which I sprang,

and into its recesses in my own heart. I feel that chill. What is this? A

silent voice responds; it is a voice of the muses.

It softly says, “You feel the precipice of balance. It is the fulcrum

for all of historical creation on this planet. You feel the chill of decision

and indecision as they meet. There is no choice upon this precipice.

Choice returns only as you let go of knowing. To move from

here, you will fall in whichever direction you turn. It is this falling

that you have felt upon every Threshold to the Void!”

“Ah. I am not alone here, at least,” I sigh. “I have you to talk to.

But I am indeed ‘falling’ into something.”

“We have returned. You sensed it coming. We did too. We

knew we would be drawn back to you, especially on this precipice.”

I mutter, “Truly, I do not know. I know nothing! My world is

turning upside down. No one in my time seems to know what’s going

on. We have leadership now that defies comprehension; it

knows nothing! We all feel utterly unsafe and threatened. Many

people suffer greatly, trying to take it all in, trying to square it with

some kind of normalcy.”

The soft voice responds, “You are all on the precipice, yes. You

cannot step back to safer ground. There is no longer any kind of

‘normal’ way to be. You can only turn off and fall into the Unknown.

Not surprisingly, many are quite anxious about this. The

forces of nature have conspired to drive your collective awareness

to the brink of destruction—and of creation.

“We are here within you to ‘fall’ alongside you, to attend your

descent into the abyss of unknowing. We encourage you to welcome

this abyss. It is that which stands in the way; and it is, therefore,

the way! Stay curious.”

I cringe. “But where do I go now? What do I do? Apparently, it

is not my task to join my friends and teachers, nor is it to return into

past generations to impart new inspiration to my forebears. How

do I relate to the Holy Unknown?”

The voice answers, “On the contrary, your soul has joined the

lot of your colleagues inside the Grand Reunion. It is indeed with

them. That assembly, however, is for the tribes of souls united. You,

dear friend, are still a human, still a body of unenlightened mass.

Your task is to follow the path of personal destiny for yet a while.

We will take you there and show you what must be.”

“Am I going back to my own time then? Will I simply sit and

write as I have done before, seeing and sensing from a distance and

‘through a glass darkly’?”

“This, dear friend, is a secret. We do not know. But we fully respect

the Unknown. It is where we all shall find our way. Come

then now with us. We shall fall together into that empty abyss.”

I stand in silence and trepidation for several long minutes, wondering

what will happen next. My anxiety builds inside the voided

space. I am alone again, completely alone—inside and out. And yet, in

that realization I suddenly know that I am also, at one. And I am at

peace. Whatever happens now, I fall in peace. I hope not in pieces!

In response, the ground turns to liquid; it becomes a whirlpool,

a vortex, a stirring portal. The time craft, beside me, is also sucked

down in a furious rush. The dusty plane around me is pulled in, too;

the dead mountains collapse and flow inward; the whole landscape,

the sun and stars all follow. We float for a moment in the midst of

destruction. Suddenly, we are drawn down, helplessly into the darkness,

the stark blackness of creation.

© 2018 Robert Lee Potter

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