The thought with the modern mind, which is quintessentially an Abrahamic thought, is that there can be only one story, but this has never been true. Great uncertainty accompanies most stories, theirs included. This uncertainty allows for other stories to live, and so begins the story of the Healer.
In ancient times, the wisest and most pure recognized an unfortunate degeneration in mankind. This degeneration was perhaps due to the incessant mixing of bloodlines and teachings from widely divergent sources. Regardless, it was understood that mankind was becoming ever denser, and more material and this move into density was ushered in with a loss of faculties and abilities.
It was recognized that the new man could only sing of surfaces, and like Aristotle, could only dignify that which satisfied the longing for substance. The last of the great mystics understood that for mankind to have the road of return left open, their inner essence would require a divine power to rope itself to, as a means and a path to rediscovery. For this, they called upon the entheogen and that ancient force whose name still reverberated in the deep minds of men.
The fact that the Healer was stolen and changed to fit the agenda of mortal men is hardly understood today. Conventional thought being based upon conditions of life ensures this condition, as the theft has been adroitly obscured, with a consistency of the mortal message loud and pervasive, allowing for no variation, no development beyond its masquerading intent.
The modern world boasts billions who have internalized this message. Every continent harbors its organized belief in the stolen story. Almost none are allowed to doubt the narrative. To question it evokes rage and denial. To expose its foundation results in disbelief and gasps of indignation. Yet the truth behind the story of Jesus is far different from the story we are told.
Mike has always lived his life on the edge, without a safety net. He is not a traditionalist, although he values tradition. He is not a social maven, although he values a functioning society. In fact, anything you might think Mike is, he is not, thus he refers to himself as a nobody. His destiny has led him into the oddest of places, at the oddest of times. He is oft convinced that as in the Hymn of the Pearl, he is doomed to grope around in the dark, having forgotten who he is. His dream is remembering, and his writings are perhaps an ode to this process.
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