"Sparkles" by Sandy Jones
"Blessed is the person who stands at rest in the beginning. And that person will be acquainted with the end and will not taste death." (Thomas 18 )
Another letter from William Samuel, sent to me, Sandy Jones, many years ago from his personal, private journals - which he entrusted with me, saying that I would know when the time was right to share them. Today is a good day to do just that. lheart emoticon Today is a good day for this one.
Remembering Childhood
A personal letter from William Samuel from 1986
There is hope for us if we can recall a single happy childhood moment. Just one, even if it isn’t complete, even if just a smattering, vague and nearly gone. We are still children at heart. That is, there are none of us who doesn’t remember the innocence and excitement of at least a tiny part of our early days when we bounded with innocent enthusiasm and imagination, before doubts and distrusts became a controlling factor in our formulations. Some of us felt more of this then others, but no one is totally void of a few sweet enthusiasms of childhood. It is essential that we recall some of them, and we can.
Perhaps we don’t remember them well, but there were days when the newborn was comforted by the feeding mother and the sounds of her voice, long before conscious feelings, before thoughts of trust and distrust entered into anything for us. There were those moments when we had pure, unadulterated faith in the one who cared for us because we had not yet experienced a moment of faithlessness nor even knew what such a concept meant.
Those were the days of our soul when the Divine Imprint was unimpededly present. Those were the days of our innocence, before we knew sadness and guilt. Those were the days of childlikeness and motivelessness when we effortlessly existed in the state to which the ancient philosophers and wise people implored us to return to. Then, in those years when we were hungry, we fretted and cried. When we were satisfied we slept. If there were dreams, they were of the ocean within the womb, of the rhythmic movement of our earth mother, the sounds of her heart and voice, singing, crying, laughing, the music of the Universe and angels clapping. In those early days the morning stars sang together and we the newborn had memories of the Unspeakable Ineffable before linear time began. In those sweet days we experienced, but we had no names for our experiences, nothing to compare them with, nothing to judge them by. The old philosopher, LaoTse, called this the time of the Ancients. Jesus spoke of this as the Child of Seven Days.
This, the original child, is still here with us this instant as we contemplate these words. This, the Original child, he and she, being all there is to both genders, hasn’t gone away. It is still here right now, considering these words that are taking us back to an earlier time before Time People don’t think of this child anymore, but one day we will again when hopelessness and helplessness return, when the clouds of poverty and death come lowering and the crickets stop singing. Each and all of us return to this beginning.
Perhaps we don’t remember them well, but there were days when the newborn was comforted by the feeding mother and the sounds of her voice, long before conscious feelings, before thoughts of trust and distrust entered into anything for us. There were those moments when we had pure, unadulterated faith in the one who cared for us because we had not yet experienced a moment of faithlessness nor even knew what such a concept meant.
Those were the days of our soul when the Divine Imprint was unimpededly present. Those were the days of our innocence, before we knew sadness and guilt. Those were the days of childlikeness and motivelessness when we effortlessly existed in the state to which the ancient philosophers and wise people implored us to return to. Then, in those years when we were hungry, we fretted and cried. When we were satisfied we slept. If there were dreams, they were of the ocean within the womb, of the rhythmic movement of our earth mother, the sounds of her heart and voice, singing, crying, laughing, the music of the Universe and angels clapping. In those early days the morning stars sang together and we the newborn had memories of the Unspeakable Ineffable before linear time began. In those sweet days we experienced, but we had no names for our experiences, nothing to compare them with, nothing to judge them by. The old philosopher, LaoTse, called this the time of the Ancients. Jesus spoke of this as the Child of Seven Days.
This, the original child, is still here with us this instant as we contemplate these words. This, the Original child, he and she, being all there is to both genders, hasn’t gone away. It is still here right now, considering these words that are taking us back to an earlier time before Time People don’t think of this child anymore, but one day we will again when hopelessness and helplessness return, when the clouds of poverty and death come lowering and the crickets stop singing. Each and all of us return to this beginning.
We arrived on the human scene of the ten thousand things guided by unseen angels, driven only by the Divine Imprint which has been here with us from the Beginning of time. We leave this arena helplessly and alone, protected only by the our faith in the invisible, unprovable Divine Imprint that carries us according to our belief through the frightening passages to the timeless and eternal Heaven from whence we came.
Happy childhood, unhappy childhood, makes no difference. Both contain the basic elements of the first trusting child who had no occasion yet to distrust; of the original child who had no reason yet to disbelieve. For some of us, the change happens more quickly. Those with the unhappy childhood seem to rediscover the original state sooner than the pragmatic and those with the joyful, unchallenged times. The grand Rediscovery and its refinement is surely, and merely, the wish to live again.
How to do this? We can believe again that there was such a time, even if it’s forgotten, because there was such a time for all of us. We can wish to be there again consciously, though in fact we’ve never really been away just as original letter has never left the alphabet nor the number been absent from the Perfect First Principle.
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Happy childhood, unhappy childhood, makes no difference. Both contain the basic elements of the first trusting child who had no occasion yet to distrust; of the original child who had no reason yet to disbelieve. For some of us, the change happens more quickly. Those with the unhappy childhood seem to rediscover the original state sooner than the pragmatic and those with the joyful, unchallenged times. The grand Rediscovery and its refinement is surely, and merely, the wish to live again.
How to do this? We can believe again that there was such a time, even if it’s forgotten, because there was such a time for all of us. We can wish to be there again consciously, though in fact we’ve never really been away just as original letter has never left the alphabet nor the number been absent from the Perfect First Principle.
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Well, I couldn’t sleep tonight, Father, so here I am in the middle of the night trying to write of the difficult things so hard to put into words that the heart can hear. No one in all these years has understood what I understand to be the Original Child who preceded me in to the world, and will survive when the finite one is forgotten. That Original One is the Soul of the Image of God, if I may use that word without dredging up thoughts of religion, dogma, pious organizations and their manipulated sanctimonious holy books.
And what is the soul? It is the Image of the Ineffable. It is the qualities , characteristics and attributes which only God knows Itself to be and the mortal mind of reason and logic will never know at all. This soul existed before ever a religion existed, before a creed or dogma made its spurious demands, before anyone had fallen from grace or become a sinful mortal with a body of flesh.
There is an eternal Imprint. And what is that? It is the totality of all the Ineffable knows Himself to be, the image of his own characteristics and attributes as eternal and immutable as He. The original Child of us, the soul of us, God that enormous totality, known only to God in its fullness. But, that Image and its qualities, characteristics and attributes are nothing of themselves. They live and move and have their being as God’s own functioning Self-knowledge in God’s unending action of being Self-aware.
A Guide To Awareness and Tranquillity by William Samuel
And what is the soul? It is the Image of the Ineffable. It is the qualities , characteristics and attributes which only God knows Itself to be and the mortal mind of reason and logic will never know at all. This soul existed before ever a religion existed, before a creed or dogma made its spurious demands, before anyone had fallen from grace or become a sinful mortal with a body of flesh.
There is an eternal Imprint. And what is that? It is the totality of all the Ineffable knows Himself to be, the image of his own characteristics and attributes as eternal and immutable as He. The original Child of us, the soul of us, God that enormous totality, known only to God in its fullness. But, that Image and its qualities, characteristics and attributes are nothing of themselves. They live and move and have their being as God’s own functioning Self-knowledge in God’s unending action of being Self-aware.
If you would like further guidance in understanding any of William Samuel's work based on Self discover you are welcome to contact me, Sandy Jones - samuelandfriends@gmail.com - Ojai, California -
Read more by William Samuel books available on Amazon
The Awareness of Self-Discovery by William Samuel
A Guide To Awareness and Tranquillity by William Samuel
Barefoot at Heart-The Alchemy of Love and the Power of Light by Sandy Jones
