by Krishna Rose
The serpents slithered about with their piercing gaze of merciless scrutiny. “Do not look in their eyes,” he warned, “for they may entice you. It is in their nature to be cruel. Those unfortunate souls on earth, who do what they will, know not how punishment hides behind every tree waiting for its moment to strike—just like these serpents.”
We stopped just short of a portcullis on the southern side of the Kingdom, which raised as we approached.
“Suicides. The next tier is a place where those who commit suicide come to live in bewilderment. It is very sad, Mary,” he warned, taking hold of my arm protectively leading me forth. “Nature forges a bond with creation when it offers the gift of birth. It is a sacred trust. And when someone feels like they can’t continue, they consider suicide to be a path of relief. But what they do not know, is that their suffering is increased a thousand-fold by this one action.”
Suddenly, we were thrown into a chute inside the abyss, which carried us down, slowly at first, and then more rapidly, allowing us to view the watery depths below—where the guilty had been cast. The first level, I noticed, held indistinct souls who hid in the darkness, passing time alone, recollecting their missed chances. These broken-hearted souls were heavy with grief. Their agony endured. It had followed them into the afterlife, which they had believed would bring an end to all pain. My heart sank.
“The suicide souls live out their days longing for human touch, for food, and for drink. No longer able to enjoy the freedom of earthly existence, they yearn—devastated by their disastrous course of action. Not one of them will again wear a human body—not for a long time.”
“But why does the Lord make them suffer more, when they were already distressed enough?” I asked perplexed.
“It is not possible to have what you took from yourself, which was a gift from God,” he said. “Their state of purgatory, is enough of a punishment for them. They do not suffer like the others who suffer here, Mary. They endure only for as long as they were fated to have life on earth. And when they are freed, they vow to be grateful and strong when life is again afforded them.
“Here,” he said, pointing to the burning vats on the next level. “Those are the boiling vats,” he said matter-of-factly. “These cisterns are for those who burn people in the name of religion or unmeted justice. Here they are robbed of life, until they pay for every inch of the suffering they have ever caused.”
Huge balls of fire rained down from mountainous waterfalls above and an overbearing heat came from all directions. Even the air we breathed, burned like fervid flames. There was no extinguishing it, for the searing heat hurled around us like a foul hurricane. Beneath the roaring flames were the cries of bitter suffering. Their woe, gushed ubiquitously. Closing my eyes, I blocked my ears, praying for respite, trembling despite the intense heat. The High-Priest reached for me, a pained expression upon his face.
I was assured that Caiaphas and the members of the Sanhedrin would one day burn in these Hells and felt a rush of righteous understanding of how the angels of death were contented in their employ.
“Mary, your fate is to be the most renowned woman in history. These places you witness, will seal the fate of humankind. Therefore be brave,” he said covering my nose and mouth with a damp cloth from within his robe.
Shaking, I held myself together for the sake of my learning. Passing through gates of fiery flames which were magnificent, yet terrifying, we came upon the next level. This place was hot as fire, yet cold as ice. Three rivers of molten fire flowed into the darkness beyond, no doubt in search of flesh to devour. We were in a place of darkest of winter, where no sunlight would ever come. It was bleak. Everything had been scorched and was decaying.
“Coin for coin, the most perverted souls are here given their due. This Hell was created by their sin, wherein they now smolder in the shadow of their own lustfulness. Their appetite for sex overawed them, and in their yearning, they forced people to enter into most morbid conditions, just so that their passion might be quelled. Here, their vicious crimes are revenged in appropriate recompense,” he said disgustedly.
I shuddered.
Bound in heavy chains, forced to work, multitudes of sinners were governed over by the dark lord’s angels. Meanwhile the King and his ministers moved about the lands in golden chariots with fiery wheels which made a deafening sound like thunder as they passed by. Skeletal horses pulled their carriages with smoke and flames burning from their nostrils and mouths as they galloped past us at speed.
The leaders of government, who rendered service unto the King and his advisors, with great precision, had been appointed for their lack of care—as they were untouched by pain—so that lawful corrective justice could go about its business. I felt a great sorrow in the core of my being. For these things that I witnessed, were more than people of earth could ever perceive.
The ground shook, heralding an impending destruction, as a tidal wave of hot iron gushed into the valley. Blazing fire bursting from within the fissures below, dished out more grave retribution, swallowing all those souls who pointlessly ran from its path.
From a safe place, we observed the devastating effects of sin.
When all the convicts had been burned to cinder—they rose from the ashes. Their cadaverous complexions and immoral energy filled me with solemnity. Once the newly risen dead were again made whole, an extreme freeze came upon them. A frost so bitter, that they burned from the touch of ice upon their raw skin. The suffering they endured, seemed to amplify in a continual succession of meted out punishment, causing them to suffer untold misery at every moment. Just when they thought they were free of one suffering—another was granted.
“What happens to them when their imprisonment is ended?” I asked.
“When a soul has completed their term, they are taken to bathe in The Lake of Forgetfulness, where memory of their pain washes away and is forgotten. Returned to life, they are often strongly inclined to sin no more.”
The High-Priest called for the boatman to return us to the shore. Within seconds he appeared from out of nowhere with his boat. We climbed aboard in silence, and he quickly navigated his way through the murky waters at full speed, until we were returned to the location from whence we had entered these grim dimensions.
When we reached the shore, the moon rose and was bright in the sky, impregnating me with its mystical glow. The High-Priest took my breath away, for he was so luminous beneath the soft lit sky. His eyes ripe with wisdom and experience.
“I have been asked to share with you a ceremony known as the Dance of the Seven Veils,” he said soberly.
“Yes, I have heard of it,” I said, my belly fluttering excitedly.
“The tasks you will face, will sever the chords of illusion binding your soul to the flesh in seven centers,” he said, helping me from the barge unto shore, slipping the old man a silver coin.
“Allow your sight to move beyond what you see,” he said in a slow, suggestive voice. My mind quickly moved beyond what my eyes perceived to be real, and I fell into a trance, reaching that place between the real and unreal.
“Ahead of you are a series of ritual initiations which will evaporate all varieties of sin. Each challenge faced is an opportunity for deeper understanding. So confront them with courage. Coming face to face with the contradictions that hold humanity shackled to the flesh, can be shocking. But these are a most powerful force for self-change. One which we considered essential to your dedicated mission.”
Dappled light filtered down through the branches of two tall oak trees. As we passed between them, he spoke in a strange foreign language, which I heeded, for his words somehow resonated with my soul. “Surrender to the experience, Mary. You are completely safe,” he said, as if sensing my trepidation. “Nothing can harm you, for you ar
e deep inside your own self,” he said, pressing his cooling hand upon my brow.
Walking on a carpet of crisp fallen leaves, far into an unusual forest, above us, I could see the two oak trees through which we had just passed. Now they were upside down, or was it I who was bottom-side-up? The roots of the trees, like snakes, hung in the air writhing, while their tall thick trunks stood high in the sky like sentinels on guard. Nothing here was as it should be.
“Stay close and follow me. We shall pass through each of the seven gates, one by one.”
Falling, immediately I forgot myself. Floating on my back weightlessly, an inertia embraced me, as strange new sensations lulled me into an unhurried, dull state of passivity. Unhesitatingly I yielded to its will, deferring all my power like a victim, into its coma, letting out a deep satisfied sigh, stretching in slow languid movements, safe in the embrace of a drowsy lethargy. Enjoying the loosening of my flesh, in that moment, I felt no desire to be anywhere else. I delighted in the moment, not caring for the past or future.
“Mary, this the first mysterious rite of passage. Here, pride welcomes those souls who wish to float in forgetfulness, believing in nothing but their own invincible power. Maintaining the illusion of conceit, believing only in themselves, without any desire to know anything, nor wanting to be free, in their own smugness, such people comfort themselves in the spotlight of their own imagined brilliance.
“Replete with pride, they are enveloped in an enchanted revelry, derived from the illusion of their own achievements and possessions. Being widely admired, they are full of self-importance. Such a soul, lives here in this listless place, without fulfillment. Content with wearing pride like a badge of honor, they do not believe death will ever come for them, therefore, here, their spirit is held captive,” he said wistfully.
I could grasp how trapped I was by the heaving desire for inaction, while an unyielding gloom massaged my aching drowsiness. It was as if heavy weights had been secured to my limbs. Alone, dormant, and pitiable, I was in a timeless apathy with an intense longing in my mind—where I daydreamed about being wanted and respected by all. Undetected pride, had all but swallowed my soul in its fantasy of self-importance.
Though I felt a deep loneliness inside, my vanity kept me from crying out to the Lord, for I no longer believed in humility. I was more sick with concern for how others perceived me, than with the reality of the snobbery hiding in the darkest corner of my heart. Forgetful of my spirit within, I was hungry for attention. Shamelessly, my boastings echoed everywhere for all to hear. I had been ambushed by misshapen self-admiration, which sought vain-glory from the world. Haunted by a fierce, uncontrollable driving, I wore the illusory mantle of superiority—to deceive and give the impression of being perfected.
“This is the place where all souls attach themselves to the darkest regions of ignorance. Choosing bitter fruits of flattery, preening themselves, and delighting in their boastings, their souls drift in an ocean of isolation. Ensnared, they live in the realm of craving, which they long to quench. Their delusions cause them to always be seen to be right by any means. This burns in them, until they are driven to satisfy all that they hunger for. Yet what they achieve is strife. Foolish pride leads to one thing—defamation.
“Still, pride holds on strong and with vigor. So go forth and teach the people to keep their hearts clean and faithful, by way of humble service unto others. Else pride shall surely destroy all that is good and natural in them.
“Many who live in pomp, live wicked secret lives. And though they may be aristocratic by birth, they too shall descend and be brought to heel by cause and effect. Even the mighty fall. The light of the law devours all. They bring this inevitable destruction upon themselves—by their pride,” he said with a heavy nod in my direction.
“You can see here, how the first sin of pride has choked the spirit within—at great expense. It cannot be relinquished so easily, for the human being has bound itself to these illusions—firm. Love belongs to the Lord, not the self alone. Therefore, teach the world to offer their enjoyments unto Him, that they shall be released from the shame which hinders and controls them.”
‘Like a rose in the desert, I shall throw auspicious learning unto the meek who appreciate the relief offered unto them.’
I rubbed shoulders with the skeletal ruins of those who had perished here before me. All those lives wrecked by prudish, starchy principals. ‘For pride, without fail, follows quickly behind the correct following of principals.’
“Pride is the first of the seven deadly sins which chokes the innocence of humility inherent in the soul,” the High-Priest explained.
“So what is to be done? How do we free ourselves from the gnawing appetite of self-regard?” I asked slowly, as if drugged—noticing that it took all my will power to formulate any words at all.
“Behind pride there is always a fall. You have seen the fathomless depths of a life lived spent in false belief of superiority over others. Repentance is the first unravelling of this conceit, the second is selfless service unto others. At that point the spirit is freed of its mistaken identity. Struck at its root, the axe of repentance with deep remorse, makes the truth of pride’s senseless poison dislocate.”
The scandal of my self-realized obliviousness to my own shallow need to be admired, had left me disturbingly uncomfortable with embarrassment.
“O Lord, I beseech Thee, please search my heart and spirit, and shine Thy loving kindness upon me. Take my soul and lead it from this grievous shame which so easily overcame me. I confess to You my pride, which since the beginning of time has held me captive in selfish wanting. Please Lord, leave no hidden corner of my being with the stigma of pretentiousness, which rages like an insatiable fire within. Remove the lens of pride from my eyes, that I may always see clearly the truth of myself.
“Before Thee, all sickness is cured. Therefore I plead to Your good nature. Please take it upon Yourself to catch my pride, as a fisherman catches fish on the end of a line. Rip this sin from me by Your hook of mercy,” I prayed, in restless fear at being cast so far from the Lord whom I loved with all my heart.
“Why do people undergo atonement if they are not able to control their wanting?” I asked.
“They are like the thief who is arrested for stealing. They know, that if they thieve, they may be caught, yet they steal anyway. The less intelligent gather experience through the eyes, while others use the intelligence to garner experience by hearing of what is to be done and what is not to be done. The less intelligent, require retribution for their crimes before they willingly submit themselves. While those having clear-sightedness, hear through the ears, instruction which is of benefit to them. Such intelligent people make amends by adjusting their character—whereas those steeped in ignorance, again and again, bathe in the rivers of disgrace.
“They could be compared to an elephant who bathes in the river, only to throw dirt on themselves upon reaching the riverbank.”
“Then what is the value in penance?” I asked.
“Some believe that confession of sins and penance will relieve them of the results of their indiscretion—whilst contrarily continuing in their depravity, without change. This kind of repentance offers little fruit, for sin cannot be counteracted by confession alone. Real atonement, is to wake our dormant acquaintance with, and natural passion, for God. By His love we are forgiven and cleansed of any desire to break our commandments with Him.”
In my mind’s eye, I could see that I had grown old. I had become withered by unfulfilled desire. There was no hint of any earthly beauty left in me. My bones seemed like they might break for want of nourishment, my eyes were sad with longing and my lips were shriveled from hankering.
“The deeper you go into the realms of the self, the more complex the web. By this challenge you now
face, you can leave behind the shadow of your former self which has lain in the deepest vaults of pretense, half-smothered by the immense weight of pride’s deceit. This is the first of many deliberate strings which are to be unbound. Entire lineages have been shipwrecked on these dark rocks of misunderstanding,” he said, placing a skull in my hand.
“Keep this souvenir as a reminder,” he said, understanding how fraught with embarrassment and humiliation I had been.
We returned to the place from whence this strange vision had begun—beneath the two oaks. The roots of the trees, like snakes, hung in the air above us, writhing, while the trunks stood tall, like sentinels.
This is a mirror which forever reflects the truth of who we are. It is always within our control to commit ourselves and purge the illusion of self-importance by the invocation of humility’s yielding power. Therefore I took an oath, promising henceforth to be more watchful of myself.
CHAPTER 32
HELL—VEIL TWO
When a bird is entangled in a net, it depends upon assistance from one who is not ensnared, to attain its freedom. So it is with spirit.
I followed the High-Priest into the second veil. We were atop the peak of a vast mountain which pulsed in a way that resembled my own heartbeat. The sound of it endowed me with an evident sense of being contented. Closing my eyes, I drank in its unusual primal resonance.
The promise of darkness to come, was apparent by virtue of the swiftly setting sun. Gathering night appeared to be swallowing hope whole, while the light of the sun fought for its final hurrah, as flashes of color, orange and red, like molten coal, blazed on the horizon reminding us that light will again rise to swallow darkness at dawn.