When I (Day of Greenleaf) was a young boy, an incredible, wonderful thing happened to me. Because that experience is directly linked with my writing of this book, I will share it with you. To receive it, you must become like a child.
I was eight years old. It was Christmas Eve, 1966. My family and I were watching a television movie about the life of Jesus. As I watched Jesus heal the sick, feed the hungry, and hug little children, I fell absolutely in love with him. He was so nice! But when the movie reached the point where Jesus was taken prisoner, savagely whipped and nailed to a cross, my joy turned to tears. I ran from the family room into the privacy of my bedroom and threw myself down on the bed. With my face buried in my pillow, I began to cry a river of tears. I cried and cried, and then, for the first time in my life, I truly prayed.
I prayed that God would bring Jesus back to life. I had not seen the last part of the movie where Jesus did come back to life, and so I thought those mean people had killed Jesus forever! And so I prayed:
“Dear God, please bring Jesus back to life! He was so nice! He helped everybody! Please, God, bring Jesus back to life so I can join him and be one of his disciples!”
I prayed those words fervently, from my heart, with one hundred percent conviction. And then something incredible happened! I felt the presence of someone in my room. I lifted my face from my pillow and turned expecting to see my mother. But it was not my mother. It was the presence of Christ! The first thing I “saw” with my “third-eye” – a term for that within us that is capable of “seeing” subtle energies and having intuitional vision or insight – was a ball of pure, white light. And then that white light became for my physical eyes the semblance of Jesus. So much pure love was radiating from Jesus that I could actually smell and taste it with the senses of my subtle anatomy. Can you imagine what pure love would smell like? It smelled like a field of celestial flowers in blossom! Can you imagine what pure love would taste like? It tasted like honey from heaven!
After comforting me with words of love, Jesus spoke the following words of prophecy about my life and ministry:
“Beloved friend, listen well. You shall do a special work for me. Indeed, you will be a bright sun by which my true teachings shall be illuminated. You will cast light on teachings of mine long suppressed by the merchants of death. Your life will be a blessing to many beings, human and non-human alike. But first you must be trained: When the time is right, I will send a holy one to train you. You will know him when you see him: The eyes are the windows of the soul, and his eyes will reveal a gentle soul. He will radiate peace. When your training with him is through, you and I shall again embrace: This time I came to you; next time you will come to me.”
When Jesus spoke the words, “… you will be a bright sun by which my true teachings will be illuminated,” a vision of a black-skinned woman being revealed by the rays of a bright sun appeared in my mind. Though, at age eight, I knew her not – except as the wonderful woman of unknown name that occasionally appeared in my childhood dreams and visions – I know her now as the Magdalene. As Jesus smiled serenely, his body once again became a ball of what, for lack of a better term, I am calling “white light,” though to call it “radiant brightness” would be just as good.
Who would be the “holy one” that Jesus would send to train me? I spent the next few Sundays watching famous television ministers preach. I thought that one of those famous ministers might be the one to train me. But as I watched them preach, I was greatly disappointed: Jesus had said that the eyes of the one to train me would reveal a “gentle soul”; but the eyes of the television ministers revealed only dollar signs! Rather than “gentle souls,” their eyes revealed “greedy souls.”
I then began to visit the various churches attended by my friends. My own family did not attend a church. I hoped that, by visiting a number of these congregations, I might meet the “holy one” destined to teach me about Jesus and his lost teachings. I thought it might be one of the pastors or priests of these congregations. But again I was disappointed: The ministers of these churches did not strike me as “holy”; rather, they seemed “plastic,” more similar to salesmen in vibration than to spiritual devotees. I decided to quit searching for the one who was to train me. I told myself, “Jesus will send him when the time is right.”
I Meet My Teacher: The First Sweat Lodge Ritual:
“I AM!”
Though we might not be aware of it, we are perpetually engaged in the process of spiritual training. The entire universe is a cosmic school system for the training of souls, and even our bad experiences contain spiritual lessons. But there is a special type of spiritual training called, Intentional Spiritual Training. Intentional Spiritual Training occurs when we are aware of the fact that we are being trained and choose to participate consciously in that training. When a being makes the decision to participate consciously in his or her spiritual training, that being is said to be “on the spiritual path.” It was that type of intentional spiritual training that Jesus was referring to when he told me:
“But first you must be trained: When the time is right, I will send a holy one to train you.”
My intentional spiritual training began when I was seventeen. One night, I was camping in the mountains behind my home. Instead of sleep, for much of the night I lay awake contemplating the seemingly infinite canopy of luminous stars, awestruck. Within myself, I exclaimed: “What an incredibly vast universe!” As I lay there in rapture, many profound questions of philosophic and religious significance impinged upon my consciousness.
The chief question, the one that most thoroughly occupied my consciousness, was: “Who am I?”
I pondered that question for several hours; I was unable to satisfactorily answer it. Was I a soul or just a body with a brain? In prayer, I asked Jesus to help me answer that question, and then I fell asleep. The very next day, Jesus sent someone who helped me discover the answer to that question. Jesus sent the holy one destined to train me for my life work.
I met my teacher on the freeway. I was driving my car, and I saw him sitting in the lotus posture (a meditation posture) on the side of the freeway ramp. He did not have his thumb out but I assumed that he was hitchhiking. At this point in my life, I had never picked up a hitchhiker; I was afraid to, due to prudent parental warnings. But something about this particular hitchhiker seemed different. He seemed safe. His eyes were soft and gentle, and on the front of his white tunic were the words: “BE KIND TO ANIMALS, DON’T EAT THEM!” I figured that an old man who would not hurt an animal, would not hurt me. I pulled over.
The hitchhiker climbed into my car. He said, “Thanks, Brother!” The way he spoke the word “Brother,” I knew he actually meant it. I asked, “If you were hitchhiking, why did you not have your thumb out?” His answer seemed rather mysterious: “Because I was waiting for you!”
It was obvious that this man was some sort of sage. His white beard nearly reached his waist, prayer beads hung from his neck, and in his hands he cradled a spiritual book as if it were a precious jewel. But it was not the long beard, prayer beads, nor spiritual book that caused me to conclude that this man was a sage. It was his aura of holiness. He actually radiated peace! He had a “glow” about him. You have seen those old paintings of saints with golden halos around their heads. Those halos are not only symbolic of holiness; they are the spiritual light – the nimbus – that radiates from such saints. As I looked at this holy hitchhiker, I sensed a subtle light emanating from him.
I asked, “Where should I drop you off?” He replied, “I am going to a vegetarian restaurant in El Cajon.” I was seventeen at the time, and not yet a vegetarian. And so I asked him, “Does vegetarian food taste good?” He laughed a deep belly-laugh, then said: “It tastes much better than the carcass of a murdered cow!” He issued an invitation: “Come to the restaurant with me and I will buy you lunch. You can judge the taste of vegetarian food for yourself.” Pleased at the prospect of continuing our conversation, I said: “Sure!”
For lunch I ordered a vegetarian version of a hamburger, a grain-patty called a “Sunburger.” And I had to admit: It did taste better than the body of a dead cow! But even better than the food was the conversation: every word this man spoke had the proverbial ring of truth! I asked him about the spiritual book he was carrying. He said, “It is an ancient manuscript that includes many teachings of Jesus that have long been suppressed by his enemies.” And then I remembered the words of prophecy that Jesus had spoken to me when I was eight:
“You shall do a special work for me. Indeed, you will be a bright sun by which my true teachings shall be illuminated. You will cast light on teachings of mine long suppressed by the merchants of death.Your life will be a blessing to many beings, human and non-human alike.
“But first you must be trained: When the time is right, I will send a holy one to train you. You will know him when you see him: The eyes are the windows of the soul, and his eyes will reveal a gentle soul. He will radiate peace.”
I suddenly realized that I was eating lunch with the holy one sent by Jesus to train me to reveal his long-suppressed teachings. I asked him, “What teachings of Jesus were suppressed by his enemies?” He smiled and said, “Three of the chief doctrines of Jesus that have been suppressed by his enemies are vegetarianism, reincarnation, and the feminine aspect of God. The whole list of suppressed teachings is much longer.”
He was very elderly so I doubted that he still had any sort of job, but I wondered what had been his life path. So, I asked: “What is your occupation?” He said that he still earned a few dollars doing carpentry, but that was not his true occupation. When he told me his true occupation, I thought he was joking; he said: “I help people find the way home.” Later that day, I learned that he was not joking!
His birth name was Thomas. His background was as follows. He was born in America to Lebanese parents. They lived for some years in the midwest, and then moved to the east coast, always according to his father’s employment. His father was an engineer in the early American oil industry. When Thomas was in his teens, his family moved to Egypt because his father had taken a lucrative job there. Thomas spent most of the remainder of his life in the Middle East. Most of those years he lived in Alexandria, Egypt, where he became a member of an Alexandrian branch of Nasarean Essenes, but he also spent considerable time in Baghdad, a city in Iraq, since that is where the head teacher of that order lived.
The Nasarean religion was “underground” in both Egypt and Iraq, as both the Muslim majority of the population and the mainstream-Christian minority of those countries have for many centuries murdered and persecuted Nasareans. Thomas was in his late teens when he became a student of this Nasarean Religion of the Essene Way. Though, for short, we refer to members of the spiritual order of Thomas (a.k.a., “Malachi”) and his teacher (Abdul, a.k.a., “Abdiel”) as “Nasarean Essenes,” the proper full name is: The Nasarean Religion of the Essene Way. The name of the religion is Nasarean (raise up/ascend), the way of the religion is Essene (healing way/healer).
When I refer to my teacher, Thomas (his Nasarean initiatic name was Malachi), as having met and studied with a “Nasarean Essene,” I am talking about the vegetarian, anti-animal-sacrifice religion that worshipped both God and Goddess, raised both Jesus and the Magdalene, and had their own version of the Bible that was very different than the mainstream “Old Testament.”
Malachi arrived in the United States in the late 1960’s, some amount of years after the passing of his teacher. He carried with him not only the teachings and traditions of the Nasarean Religion of the Essene Way, but also copies of ancient Nasarean scrolls. Some he could read, others he could not, as some were written in ancient languages that he had never studied. Malachi was very saintly, but not particularly scholarly. He was not capable of translating the scrolls into English himself. That work would be for others to accomplish. [That work was given to me at the end of my seven years of training with him.] He was the Messenger, the link, the carrier of authorized copies of Nasarean scrolls that had never been translated into English and were completely unknown to mainstream scholarship and worldly authorities.
For various reasons, Malachi chose to enter America without alerting the authorities to his presence. He flew to Mexico and then walked across the border with a group of “illegal aliens.” Many of these so-called “wetbacks” were sick or had wounds on their sore feet. Malachi healed them with herbs, love, and the healing touch. They called him Medico, Spanish for Doctor. That was the first of many nicknames he would be given in America. That first nickname was very appropriate, since Medico is like saying Essene, sense they both mean Healer.
He crossed the border near San Diego, California, and began walking the streets of hippy-era America (this was the late 1960’s “peace and love,” anti-Vietnam-War era, and the streets were full of longhaired youths smoking marijuana and searching for spiritual meaning. With his long hair and beard, the elderly Malachi was embraced by the hippies, who gave him various hippy-names. One of the many hippy-names bestowed upon Malachi was “The Poet.”
In the mountains east of San Diego, Malachi found an old abandoned hotel that had been condemned. It was condemned because the buildings were rotted, collapsing, and thus dangerous. The land was owned by an out of state real estate corporation. Malachi began camping on the land, an illegal “squatter.” He took the old hotel apart piece-by-piece, and then built a cabin. Likewise piece-by-piece, he dismantled with a sledgehammer the old, cracked parking lot, and planted beautiful gardens in the newly exposed soil. He was old but still strong. He turned what had been an ugly junkyard into a paradise of natural beauty.
The day I met Malachi he had been hitchhiking into town to eat at his favorite vegetarian restaurant. And now, here I sat with him, enjoying my first vegetarian burger! He smiled as he listed for me the many names he was called by various hippy friends. Each of the names seemed to fit him perfectly. I told him that the hippies were pretty good at choosing names! He laughed. (I used to call him by the hippy names – after all, I was a young hippy, with long hair and a “back-to-nature” philosophy. But over the years, as I came to realize the spiritual significance of the name given to him by Abdiel, I settled on Malachi. For, indeed, Malachi was the Messenger from the underground Nasarean religion to modern America. By passing to a young American – me – the teachings given to him by Abdiel, Malachi served literally and effectively as Abdiel’s “messenger” to America.)
The First Sweat Lodge Ceremony: “I AM!”
After lunch, I accepted Malachi’s invitation to visit his home. He lived in a cabin in the mountains east of San Diego. The land he lived on was the closest thing to the Garden of Eden imaginable. There were vegetable patches in the shapes of various spiritual symbols, oriental rock gardens, fruit trees, flowers in bloom everywhere, and a beautiful stream of bubbling water. The wild rabbits and birds that lived on this land had no fear of Malachi: The rabbits bounced happily around his feet; the birds greeted him with sweet songs. Nothing I write can adequately describe the Eden-like atmosphere that surrounded Malachi’s cabin. Truly, it was beyond words!
Behind his cabin the holy man had built a sweat lodge out of wood and clay. After an afternoon spent learning the rudiments of yoga, I experienced my first sweat lodge ceremony. You will recall that the night before, while camping, I had asked the question: “Who am I?” During this sweat lodge ceremony, I discovered the answer to that question.
We entered the lodge, spoke some words of prayer, and then sat in silent meditation. From time to time a question would come to mind and disturb my meditation. Each time, the holy man answered the question, before I verbalized it. It seemed that he could read my thoughts! After our silent meditation, we began to chant mantras. Mantras are sounds or words of spiritual significance, sound vibrations of great spiritual efficacy or words of transcendental import. After a long period of chanting the sacred mantra “Om,” the holy man asked me a question:
“Who are you?”
“David”, I replied. [“Day” is a short nickname for my birth name “David”]
“Who are you?” he repeated.
“A high school student,” I answered.
“Who are you?” again he asked.
“An American.”
“Who are you?” he persisted.
“A body with a brain.”
“Who are you?” he asked yet again.
“The brain.”
“Who are you?” he demanded.
All of a sudden, I felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from me. All of my “veils” were lifted: I was not “David”; that was just a name I wore. I was not “high school student”; that was my occupation but it was not my basic self. “American” was not my basic self. “Body” was not my basic self. “Brain” was not my basic self; I have a brain to use, but the very fact that “I” am using the brain indicates that there is an “I” that is not the brain. Only one thing was left. Only “I” was left. And that “I” was pure awareness, pure spirit. I looked into the eyes of the holy man and said, “I AM.” Malachi smiled and said, “Welcome home!” He then said, “Class is dismissed.”
I had not even realized I was in class! And in regard to the words “Welcome Home,” I now understood what he had meant at the restaurant when he described his true occupation as helping people “find the way home.” Having experienced myself as “I AM,” I had found my true home….
That first sweat lodge ceremony was a major turning point in my life. Having experienced myself as a spark of spiritual I AM, I chose to become a conscious participant in my spiritual development. I began Intentional Spiritual Training. I dedicated my life to spiritual practice. I soon learned that as great as “The I Am Realization” is, there is an important next step. That next step was linked to my second sweat lodge ritual with the old sage.
The Second Sweat Lodge Ritual:
Sister Bug and Brother Wino: “We Are!”
During my first sweat lodge ceremony with the old sage, I learned a profound truth: I Am a Spark of Spiritual I AM! Our second sweat lodge ceremony led directly to a related, very significant, second spiritual realization: WE ARE! And that “we” is inclusive of even non-human beings, as you will learn shortly when introduced to a ladybug I once met! All beings are sparks of spiritual “I AM.” All beings – even bugs and lizards and winos – are our Brothers and Sisters in I AM. If the Key Realization of the first sweat lodge ritual can be called, “The I AM Realization,” we can call the Key Realization of the second sweat lodge ceremony – which I am about to describe – “The We Are Realization.”
A couple of days after that first sweat lodge ceremony, I eagerly returned to the Eden-like organic gardens of Malachi. Remember, I was a seventeen-year-old high school student and lived at home with my parents, a long but doable walk or a short drive from Malachi’s organic garden paradise. (My mom was an avid organic gardener and so came to have a good connection with Malachi based on that shared interest; as the seasons became years, my mom and Malachi traded garden wisdom that benefited each.) Like my first visit, on my second visit to Malachi’s “Garden of Peace” again he invited me to participate in a sacred sweat lodge ritual.
Inside the mud and wood sweat lodge, we prayed potent prayers, chanted cosmic chants, and sat in sacred silence. And then he asked me a question.
Whereas in the first sweat lodge ceremony he had asked me, “Who are you?”, this time the question was slightly different. This time he looked deeply into my eyes and asked, “Who am I?”
Well, the answer was not real difficult. The reverence I already felt for this sage caused the answer to flow freely from my heart: “Like me, you are a spark of God, a spark of spiritual I AM.” “Good,” he replied, “you are centered. Stay centered as you follow me out of the sweat lodge.”
I followed Malachi out of the sweat lodge and, after briefly bathing our sweaty bodies in the cool, crystal-clear mountain creek behind the lodge, we again entered the lodge. We repeated that cycle for a total of three “rounds.” Now, at this point in our story, the three rounds had concluded and Malachi had instructed me to “stay centered” as we exited the sweat lodge, rinsed, and then walked to a circular vegetable patch.
Attempting to remain centered as Malachi had advised, I followed him to the edge of a vegetable garden patch that was shaped like a circle. (As previously mentioned, the 35 Eden-like acres tended by Malachi had numerous vegetable and flower patches, many of them in the forms of various spiritual symbols and geometric shapes: a flower patch shaped like the Taoist yin-yang symbol; a patch of corn shaped like the Christian cross; triangular patches; etc.)
As we stood at the low archway entrance to the garden patch shaped like a circle, Malachi, with a voice very reverent, said: “This garden is the universe in microcosm; enter it with reverence.” And with reverence sincere, I entered as he waited. To do so, I had to bend down low; for the low archway entrance would permit only one with a bent-at-the-waist position that evokes a sense of humility to enter the circular garden. As I stepped through the entrance into the circle, I nearly stumbled over a strangely placed – or strategically placed – rock in the path but regained my balance in I AM/We Are. Malachi remarked, “Good, you are still centered; you are in balance.”
But then he did something that almost caused me to lose my centeredness! Malachi pointed at a lizard sunbathing in lazy splendor on a warm rock and asked, “Who is he?” Truly, I almost lost my center; but only almost. I exclaimed: “Well, he is certainly wearing a different body-type than myself! Yet even so he is my brother in I AM; he is a spark of God, a spark of spiritual I AM, as are you, as I AM!” I did not merely offer that answer because I thought it was the answer my teacher wanted to hear; rather, as I gazed at Brother Lizard with the eye of my spiritual center, I truly did recognize the spark of life and light, the spark of spiritual I AM, even within this scale-clad reptile!
Then, with a smile that declared his amusement, Malachi pointed at a red ladybug perched on a green leaf and asked, “Who is she?” The answer was now quite obvious, yet still profound: “She is my sister in spiritual I AM! Sister Ladybug, like myself and yourself, and like the lizard, is a spark of spiritual I AM housed in a body, a bug body!” Malachi said, “Good! You are centered!” So far, I had made great progress: I had recognized myself as a spark of God but had also transcended myself enough to recognize my teacher as being equally a spark of God, even recognized a lizard and a bug as manifestations of spiritual I AM. But the hard part of the lesson for this day had not yet presented itself!
I will now describe that hard part. A moment after my recognition of the ladybug as my sister, Malachi declared: “Now we will get into your car; we are going for a drive.” As we climbed into the car, he said: “Drive to the skid-row section of downtown San Diego, down to Horton Plaza.” As I absorbed his words, my knees knocked, stomach quaked, and my mind rebelled… but I managed to keep my mouth shut! I drove down the dirt driveway that led off the mountain and away from Malachi’s garden toward the skid-row section of downtown San Diego. We were heading to the one place in the county that I always had tried to avoid: the hell-pit known as “skid-row.” (In subsequent years, the city of San Diego redeveloped much of this area and cleaned it up; in the 1970’s, it was pretty bad.)
The dictionary defines “skid-row” as “a district of cheap saloons frequented by vagrants and alcoholics.” That is accurate, but too skimpy on details! Such details as: the disease-laden prostitutes unable to compete for business in better parts of town; the gun-carrying muggers lurking in nearly every shadow late at night and often in broad daylight; the newly-tattooed teenage sailors that come looking for the cheap prostitutes but are very likely to also meet the muggers; the emaciated heroin addicts that make no attempt to conceal themselves as they pierce with deadly-dirty needles what little flesh remains stretched over their bones; and, of course, an abundance of alcoholic “wino” bums like those that grace similar downtowns. Such were the mental images that I contemplated during the one hour drive down the mountain to skid-row.
No alarm bell rings in our head to warn us when we lose our center! Thus, when we lose that place of inward “centeredness,” we usually are not aware that we have lost it. I am referring, of course, to beginners on the yogic path. Fortunately, as we progress on the spiritual path, we become more stabilized in our spiritual center: We lose it much less often, are quickly aware when we do lose it, and know exactly what to do to regain it. At that stage of spiritual progress, we are said to be “living at the level of the soul.”
It is possible to reach a level of spiritual development at which we never lose our center, or at least very rarely. Jesus was inwardly centered even while being nailed to a cross! How is that for not losing your center in an intense situation? But in the story at hand, I was seventeen and only just beginning my intentional spiritual training. And though I had been centered while in Malachi’s beautiful garden, I had lost that center the moment he told me to drive to skid-row. I was now so thoroughly engaged in the process of running previously recorded mental “fear-tapes” that I was not aware I had lost my centeredness.
As we entered the skid-row district, my fearful eyes searched the streets for a relatively safe place to park. Malachi’s peaceful eyes smiled playfully as he pointed to a relatively unsafe place – directly in front of a biker bar – and said, “Park there.” I pulled up and parked beside a row of Harley Davidson “choppers.” Standing on the sidewalk near my parking place were several burly bikers, their greasy Levi jackets proudly adorned with the logo of their club: “Hell’s Angels.” The biggest of the bunch truly looked like a red demon: His stringy red hair was bound by a red bandanna with the word “DEATH” printed on it; his rust-red beard was shaped into the type of goatee worn by Hollywood movie versions of the Devil. His cruel eyes were bloodshot red. And, to top it all off, each of his red-freckled arms (his Levi jacket had the sleeves cut off at the shoulders to reveal the arms) sported a devil tattoo. The biker’s right arm was tattooed with a dagger under which were the words, “SATAN RULES!” His left arm featured an upside down version of the Christian cross with a devil-figure standing atop of it. I sat very still and stared at this devilish biker for several silent moments. Malachi’s compassionate yet strong voice interrupted my reverie: “Follow me.” I almost launched a protest but instead bit my tongue and decided to act brave.
As I swung open the car door my mind was full of thoughts about trying to look as rough and tough, as lean and mean, as dangerous as those bikers!
Full to the brim with such false bravado, I strode menacingly from the car… and promptly tripped over my own foot! I fell flat on my face on the sidewalk, directly in front of the black-booted feet of the big red biker. So much for my attempt to look macho! While I sheepishly picked myself up, the bikers had probably their biggest laugh of the day. My bruised ego hurt more than my bruised knee.
As I followed Malachi down the sidewalk, I asked, “Why did you want to come here?” He replied, “I am here to visit some relatives.” I silently marveled that this sagely man could have relatives residing in such a sick environment. The worst people in San Diego County lived here. Such were my un-centered thoughts as we walked down the sidewalk of this filthy street. I noticed that the people we passed seemed to have dead eyes. And dead skin. The buildings were equally corpse-like. Most of the glass windows were long since broken and replaced by boards and jail-like metal bars. Across the street, strutting her skinny stuff, was an obvious prostitute. Her short red skirt revealed the boniest, amphetamine-emaciated legs I had ever seen. As I gazed upon her with obvious disgust in my eyes, Malachi asked, “Who is she?”
I replied, “She is probably a prostitute. And she’s so skinny, she is probably a speed-addict, too.” We continued walking.
After a while, we came upon the most disgusting human being I had ever seen. He was sprawled across the sidewalk, face down, passed out. An empty gallon-size bottle of cheap wine lay next to him. He was an old wino, an alcoholic bum. But not just a typical old wino bum, but the worst you can imagine: his tattered shirt was coated with vomit, some fresh, some old and hardened; his filthy trousers were torn in the seat, exposing his rump. Both rump and trousers were covered with feces. And the smell!!! In the midst of all my negative thoughts was one positive (sort of!) affirmation: “Thank God, I am not this guy!” And then the bum rolled over onto his back, exposing his face. The evil biker at least had a semblance of power – albeit false power – but the wino epitomized only weakness. Truly, this bum was the poorest excuse for a human being that I had ever seen – or smelled! I wanted to step over him and walk away, fast. But Malachi did not walk away. He pointed to the bum and asked, “Who is he?”
I was about to say that this disgusting bum was exactly what he appeared to be: a disgusting bum; but then Malachi tapped me firmly on the forehead with a sagely finger, like a Zen master bopping a student with a bamboo wand. And I was again awake… I was again centered.
I looked upon the wino with new eyes. I said, “He is my brother in spiritual I AM. Like me, like you, like the lizard and ladybug, he is THAT which WE ARE. Certainly, he has not been living wisely, and clearly he is suffering the consequences. But he is still a spark of spiritual I AM. He is my brother.”
Malachi smiled and said, “Welcome back! You are centered. You are home.” I replied, “How do I stay centered?” Malachi answered, “To be established in the Crown Chakra in a stable way – which is to ‘be centered’ – you must master yourself. Master yoga, and you master yourself.”
He then said, “There is a detox center around the corner. We will take our brother there to get cleaned up and dried out. Then we will continue visiting relatives.”
Later that night we returned to the Eden-like atmosphere of Malachi’s home in the mountains. While he built a fire, I went to the garden to pick our dinner. I was very hungry. In fact, I had not had a single bite of food all day, as I had chosen to fast. As I picked the vegetables, I reflected on the lessons learned this day. It had been easy to acknowledge that my teacher is my brother in I AM. But to acknowledge my kinship with the prostitute and wino had been harder than acknowledging my kinship with a lizard and a ladybug!
When I returned to the cabin with our salad makings, Malachi was sitting in front of the fire with two books on his lap. He handed me one titled Light on the Path and said, “Sit and place your hand over the front cover of this book.” I did so. He said, “Say these words: ‘Jah-Jah, reveal to me that which is my lesson for this day. Let that revelation be my bread.’” I repeated the words. Malachi then said, “Now open the book with a certainty that whichever page you open to is the very page that Jah-Jah has selected for your lesson this day.” I opened the book randomly, and with the requested certainty. The page that looked me in the face was certainly appropriate for this day; it declared:
Do not fancy you can stand aside from the bad man or the foolish man, they are yourself…. Remember that the sin and shame of the world are your sin and shame; for you are a part of it; your karma is extricably interwoven with the great karma…. Therefore remember that the soiled garment you shrink from touching may have been yours yesterday, may be yours tomorrow…. When you have found the beginning of the way the star of your soul will show its light; and by that light you will perceive how great is the darkness in which it burns…. Be not appalled and terrified by this sight; keep your eyes fixed on the small light and it will grow. But let the darkness within help you to understand the helplessness of those who have seen no light, whose souls are in profound gloom. Blame them not – shrink from them not, but try to lift a little of the heavy karma of the world; give your aid to the few strong hands that hold back the powers of darkness….
Having received this spiritual “bread,” I was too full to eat any salad. I sat by the fire while Malachi munched raw zucchini and romaine lettuce. Thus ended the day of my second sweat lodge ceremony with the elderly Nasarean Essene Master. The words I contemplated that night in bed were: WE ARE! The attainment of The “WE ARE” Realization makes possible a mature expression of The I AM Realization, an expression that honors the truth that all other beings are Sparks of God, not only ourselves or those of our species or those of our religion. It is the realization of the Universal One that some mystics call THE ALL, the interconnected whole that is all-inclusive. You can mean the same thing when you say I AM, but only if your definition of “I” includes THE ALL.
END OF EXCERPT from Cosmic Love Story.
NOTE: The story of Day’s seven years of training with the elderly Essene teacher, Malachi, is provided in much more detail in the book that we just excerpted from, Magdalene and Essene Jesus: A Cosmic Love Story.
In more recent decades (since moving to Oregon in the 1980’s), much of Day’s activism has been related to defending the forests of Oregon from over-logging by the timber industry and opposing the related practice of aerial spraying of pesticide on the clearcuts, a practice that has resulted in the poisoning of humans, animals, soil, and waters in Oregon and everywhere else that the timber industry is active.
THOSE READERS THAT WOULD LIKE TO HEAR THE VOICE OF DAY’S TEACHER, MALACHI, CAN WATCH THE VIDEO OFFERED BELOW ON ‘ESSENE TEACHINGS OF MERLIN’. IN THAT VIDEO DAY PLAYS A FIFTY-YEAR-OLD (it was that old in 2025 when he gave the talk) CASETTE TAPE RECORDING OF HIMSELF AND MALACHI CONVERSING ABOUT THE ESSENE TEACHINGS.
