when time exhales
Preface
I’m finishing Lessons From The Long Game. Which means I’m thinking about what comes next.
After The Long Game is a logical continuation of the theological cosmos that started with Vinyl Scars and kept building across LFTLG. Last October I had an idea for a song called “Unknowing.” Before I try writing the song, I wrote this story.
1992 A.D.
8AM classes at a small, sequestered liberal arts college sometimes require a monk’s intestinal fortitude, especially religion classes.
Julie was writing feverishly. I could hear my words, and then she looked up at me and nodded. My train of thought derailed. a hiccup.
After class the students filed out past me. Some ignored me. Some smirked. Julie looked at me with genuine disappointment.
Later that evening as I sat alone in my office, my desk covered with ungraded papers and unfinished books. Quietly...
”Show me a way to keep my thoughts.
Keep my words.
Say what I need to say,
and do what I need to do.”
In my next class, the grey, dusty blackboard. Visibly erased words, barely readable. The chalk squeaked as I wrote my first word.
“Pre-existence”, I said, staring at the word on the blackboard. I wondered if Julie was nodding.
“Can a soul truly exist before a body? If God is omnipotent, don’t all souls implicitly exist in God?” I continued staring at the blackboard... no hiccups.1 no distractions.
As the semester unfolded, I stopped turning around and looking at the class. I taught the blackboard.
Based on midterms it seemed it was working. At least for most of my students. Except for a few boys. On one occasion I caught a glimpse of them coming into class. One was obviously inebriated. I heard them giggling and goofing off the entire class. I discovered from Julie after class his name was Jimmy.
Finals came and passed. As I read through the final essays, one jumped out as particularly sharp. It concluded, “Therefore, souls must exist before the body.”
Julie must have written this essay... Jimmy?2
253 A.D.
kosmos pnoē. psychē.
“The breath of the ordered world leads to the soul,” I said aloud.
A garden? And I’m standing straight up? No pain?
I could smell something comforting. Faint. Holy.
“Where am I?”
The man in front of me tilted his head. “You were mid-thought. Say more.”
“Where is my kalamos?” I muttered.
The man chuckled, “It’s not time for writing. Why don’t you just tell me?”
“The breath of the cosmos exhales and inhales souls.”
He stared at me. How much time passed?
“This one might be interesting.”
as I settled in, I discovered the man was the King of the garden. I called him King.
After hundreds of questions, we fell quiet.
“King, why can’t we see Logos?” I asked.
He stared at me again then smiled.
“I could tell you, but where’s the fun in that?”
As we walked toward what appeared to be living quarters, King spoke.
“Watch the garden for a while. You’ll have more questions.”
“Watch for what?” I asked, but he was gone.
the noise and smells of the variety of plants and animals overwhelmed me at first. As I studied the living quarters more closely, I discovered other people filing in and out. More people were going out than in. Intrigued, I moved closer to the door, but discovered it wasn’t actually a door but a light. A gateway?
The people weren’t actually people. They looked like spirits and didn’t notice me. I called out. No reaction. Curious.
I decided to go through the gateway. hiccup. I was on the other side of it in the garden.
as I contemplated the gateway, I noticed a glimmer far off on the horizon. I began walking. The gateway faded as I moved away and the glimmer grew. It was a box labeled “Kosmos Pnoē”.
As I came closer, there were chairs all around. Some spirits were sitting and watching. I couldn’t make out what they saw. I found an empty seat and reclined.
The front of the box illuminated. It reminded me of my cell window. I still felt hate for my torturers. The screen flickered and I saw a hellish image on the screen labeled, “Phlegethon.” Tormented spirits. Many appeared to be wealthy and well dressed, but completely distraught and in agony as they boiled in what appeared to be blood.
Did I recognize anyone?3
I lost track of how long I watched. A bright flash caught my eye. Looking past the viewing box, I noticed the gateway far off in the distance. It was flashing brightly as spirits were passing through it. I wondered what was happening, and as I wondered, the viewing box screen flashed to my city. A birth. The gateway flashed. The screen changed to another part of my city. A death. A pattern?
I thought of my writing room, longing for my kalamos. I’d seen so much. I felt compelled to write. The screen flickered and there was my room. Who was that sitting at my desk? And what are they doing with my papers?
King said, “It’s time to talk.”
king looked slightly bored and spoke as if he’d said it millions of times before, “You’ve experienced enough now to start understanding the rules. Let’s begin with how my garden works.”
As he spoke, the words appeared on the Kosmos Pnoē. Did I mention that I started calling it the KP Set? I guess now I did.
King continued rambling dryly, “Time here is not linear. You will feel it as linear anyway. That’s a habit, not a law. It breaks eventually.”
I furrowed my brow.
He continued, “The gateway moves souls in both directions. You cannot follow them. You can only watch.”
I’d already figured that one out.
“The Kosmos Pnoē shows you what you need to see. It is not a request system. Don’t try to tune it.”
“You mean the KP Set?” I asked. He scowled.
“What about annotations and notes? Can I make annotations and notes?”
“No!”4
He finished with, “Pain is not available here. You will reach for it anyway. Any questions?”
“Hundreds of them.”
after I finished my hundreds of why’s and how’s, King’s mood shifted. He seemed less familiar with this part of the script.
“Not many people care about these rules.” He proceeded.
Was this a test?
“You might be curious about how the souls interact here. They’re passing through. They cannot hear you. Stop trying.”
He continued, “You might want to compare your arrival to others. Don’t. My garden is not a competition. If you feel like competing, visit Hell. If you’re not sure how to get there, find the directions on the Kosmos...” I looked at him with an expecting glance and he sighed. “KP Set. Any questions?”
“I’m glad you asked!”
after I felt I had a good understanding of how to get to Hell and back, he proceeded into the final rules. Now he really seemed out of his normal routine.
“No soul has ever really cared to learn the cosmological rules. Why bother learning the deeper mechanics if you’re ultimately planning to leave?”
He continued. “You chose to enter the world. That was real. It cost something real. You don’t remember making the choice. Now you have the choice again and it costs the same thing. So, free will does not diminish here. If anything it becomes more visible because the choice sits right in front of you.”
He finished by saying, “You’ve seen that Hell is also here in my garden. It’s a choice made by the souls that inhabit it. Feel free to tour, but beware getting caught in its snares.”
375 A.D.
the Kosmos Pnoē had gotten stale over the past 50 years. Constantinople has turned into a complete soap opera. Christians seem to have more philandering blowhards running around than holy men. The Trials of Hell had become predictable. But there seems to be something happening in Egypt.
Watching Desert Fathers is my new favorite pastime! These monks don’t mess around. Who needs food? Who needs to bathe? Certainly not us! I bet that’s a ripe monastery.
But wait... have 15 years really gone by? Who’s this monk that transferred in from Constantinople? It’s like watching paint dry! He just sits there, in his cell. What’s he trying to figure out?
The next day, the same thing. He completes his chanting - which was nice from my perspective. He returns to his cell, sits down and reads. It seems like he’s reading the same passage over and over. The he looks out the window for some time and looks agitated.
He picked up his kalamos and started writing. Good man!
“Today I completed Terce. The chanting went well. That was the problem. It went well. Competently. Without contact. I’d sung every word correctly and meant none of them. I couldn’t find the meaning. Only doubt. Possibly rebellion.
When I returned to my cell, I sat down to read. I read the same passage four times. Then started a fifth and looked out the window at desert, light, nothing moving. I felt contempt. And as the sun reach its highest point, I felt like running away.
What is this feeling? What is this affliction that infects me?”
Acedia.5
The Noonday Demon. hiccup.
553 A.D.
where does the time go? King said time was not linear, but didn’t I just learn about the thing that causes us not to see what we most desperately seek?
“What are you babbling about now?” King asked.
“Never mind. I can’t remember. Have you been watching this ecumenical council?”
King looked amused. “I don’t watch the Kosmos Pnoē. Don’t you know? It’ll rot your brain.”
I had to watch. Were they discussing my work? I swear some of those manuscripts are my originals. 300 years? They made it 300 years! That must be what they were taking from my room. They were debating the merits of my writing. Are they actually considering using my writings for the official manuscripts?
Days passed as the council proceeded assessing the accuracy and sanctity of my work. It became apparent that there was a severely negative portrayal emerging of some of my writings - especially my early and most complete work. How can this be? My work has been considered a foundation of faith for centuries. At least leadership still supports.
But wait, what’s this? What are they saying? Heresy?
No.
How can this have happened? The foundation was there. It was built upon soundly by my successors. Even naming the very infection that afflicts this illegitimate council. I can see its infection. I can see it doing its work in the bright clear daylight. Distraction from the truth.6
What are they doing to my work? They’re burning it?
No.
Sometime after 553 A.D.
i had felt content for almost 300 years or a day after coming to the garden. Hanging out with King. Watching my “shows” on the Kosmos Pnoē and annotating to my heart’s content. Exploring Hell. Yep - I found out how to watch Hell with precision. I even visited once but decided not to go again. Once you’re in Hell, it’s extremely challenging to get out. Did you know the locks are on the inside of the doors - not the outside?
I had found my torturer shortly after discovering the Kosmos Pnoē. In my early days, I watched a bit, but it was a gruesome experience. A river of boiling blood? Torture and tribulations and the only thing to eat, drink and bathe in was boiling blood. Yikes!
Or the Kosmos Pnoē would produce something interesting... Did you see the latest episode of “Kingdom Divided” where Honorius and Arcadius actually divided the empire? I guess they really want to test the together we stand, divided we fall theory.
Sometimes when I was especially gloomy King would bring up an interesting discussion or thought experiment...
“Do you think souls in Hell can be saved?” King asked.
“I’ve thought about this even before my time in your garden.” I responded dejectedly, but also somewhat intrigued.
“I know. But do you truly believe it? Is it really possible?” He asked with a look on his face I hadn’t seen before.
I hesitated but stated my long-time assertion. “With repentance and God’s forgiveness, anything’s possible.”7
“We’ll see.”
the council was a huge gut punch. That’s an understatement. I was in a deep funk for days, maybe years. I started watching my torturer more and more. At first I would imagine the council members being there, but then, I started noticing a pattern with my torturer’s routine.
Endure the toil. Untangle the snare. Work until he could no longer bear the weight of the buckets. Hauling boiling blood back and forth. When he’d collapse, he would mumble something that sounded like, “Please forgive me.”
“That’s odd,” I thought. “Aren’t repentance and forgiveness the keys for getting out of Hell? Shouldn’t asking for forgiveness be enough? God’s forgiveness is unconditional for the truly repentant.”
King smiled knowingly. “You are right that repentance and forgiveness are the keys.”
i became enthralled with my torturer’s torture. The puzzle persisted. Why was forgiveness being withheld? Was he truly not repenting after more than 400 years which likely felt like a millennium?
Full disclosure. I didn’t actually know my torturer personally. He was the Emperor. I was from a modest Christian origin. And that’s what made me a target. Well, that and my sharp kalamos.
I lose myself for a moment in my waning vainglory, and as it subsides, I decide to visit Hell.
Phlegethon is not a vacation destination. Always on fire. Boiling blood. Miserable creatures surrounded by demons of torture as they toil through their eternal atonement. The smell alone is excruciating and indescribable. Sulfur, brimstone, blood and shit meet the worst odor beyond human conception. Suffice it to say, a clothespin was not available nor adequate for masking the smell - and when I arrived, I had my mouth open!
I found my torturer but did not approach. Same routine. I watched several iterations and finally decided to speak with him. The moment I hailed him, the scenery changed.
We were both alone in a completely white space. There was no horizon, nothing was in this place except for him and me. He was no longer hunched over and covered with blood and shit. He was regal -- in his emperor’s clothes.
I looked down and saw my comfy cloak. I reached into my pocket. What’s that? My favorite kalamos!8
While his appearance and clothing might have changed, the anguished look on his face had not. He looked at me and asked, “Who are you? How do I know you?”
I replied, “You don’t know me personally, but you ordered my torture. You killed me.”
The look on his face became more distraught. He began weeping. “I am truly sorry. The empire was at risk of fracturing. I had to do something. Please, can you forgive me?”
I felt my blood begin to boil. This arrogant emperor had to do something? And that meant I had to suffer? Lose my health, my standing, and my life?
“Your punishment is well earned!” I shouted. “Your decrees and persecution impacted thousands and you disrupted all that is holy!”
When I finished speaking we were back in Phlegethon and he was back to his toils. He could no longer see me and I retreated back to the garden.
king had a knowing expression on his face. Was it understanding? Sympathy? No, I think it was something deeper. Ancient. Wisdom.
“You need to see something.”
We were at the gateway. Spirits streamed in and out as they always do. Sometimes the gateway flashed.
“Time is breathing.” He said.
I was puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Every spirit has a choice. Should I stay here in the garden, or should I go learn about time? Do I want to live here with the free people, or do I want to know the joy and trials of good and evil?”9
That made sense. Free will. And we all get to choose. Spirits go out into time. Spirits return from time to the garden. Time is breathing. Makes sense.
“Did you know there is a third path?”
Now I was truly puzzled.
“You can’t look directly. Look at me, not directly at the gateway. Pay close attention to what you see from the gateway now that you’re not looking directly at it.”
I couldn’t focus at first. What is that? A path? There’s a different light. Is it a light? I’m not sure. It looks so warm. Welcoming. Almost like it’s calling me.
As I watched out of the side of my eye, two spirits started up the path but one of them slowed, seemed to shake and then stopped and planted a small flag, turned around and came back. Was the spirit shaking or was it the gateway? Or maybe both?
The other spirit made it all the way to the light. What was happening? I couldn’t quite see, but maybe if I shift my gaze a little closer. hiccup.
King was staring at me. “You can’t remember can you?”
“Remember what?”
“Exactly.” he said. “The path requires leaving. Everything.”
I thought for some time, maybe years. “You must unknow everything you know?”
King had vanished.
1971 A.D.
years passed. Was it a day, a year, two thousand years? I’d been watching the gateway intently for most of the time. All the spirits coming and going, and so few actually choosing to unknow. That was what I started calling it when a spirit actually made it into the light. Giving up the knowledge of good and evil. Evagrius called it apatheia. I call it The Unknowing.
“Been to Hell lately?” King asked in his anciently bored manner.
His timing was uncanny. My other preoccupation when I wasn’t transfixed by the gateway was watching my torturer’s torment. My burning about my work was long gone. I no longer cared that people and institutions had buried the truth. But the pain of my torture still burned hot.
“No. But I’ve been thinking a lot about The Unknowing.”
King rolled his eyes. He always seemed to be mildly amused, but mostly frustrated when I brought up the topic.
“Maybe part of unknowing is finding a way to forgive those that we believe have caused us harm.”
He stared at me. “Easy words to say.” He said as he continued staring intently at me.
i found my way back to Phlegethon. I couldn’t help but follow my morbid curiosity. Would something be different?
I saw my torturer almost immediately. Same turmoil. Same progression as always. Thousands of years, or perhaps eternity. I felt compelled to approach and as I did, we were back in the space that had no space. Emperor Decius and Origen of Alexandria. He in his regal garb. Me in my scholarly cloak.
“I don’t know what to say.” Decius started. “The gears of an empire, or any large, old organization seem to grind up the spirit and soul of humanity.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond.
“It doesn’t excuse me or my actions. Every death, every soul that I caused harm is on my inability and unwillingness to do what was difficult - seemingly impossible. Again, I’m not making excuses. I own my culpability and accept my condemnation. But I want you to know, I am truly sorry to you and everyone that was hurt or killed by my decree.”
What was he saying? He was taking responsibility for the horrific outcomes during his reign. Had he gotten forgiveness from every soul he sinned against? Had our creator already forgiven him? Did I truly believe every soul was destined for salvation?
I stared at his face for some time, maybe years. I thought of my broken body at the end of my life. The pain. I could barely sit up without pain, much less write. His shoulders slouched under the regal attire. I could see the anguish in his eyes - not from his torture, but from the realization of the pain, suffering and death I experienced. I could feel my tears welling up.
Something changed. Was it the dimensions of this space with no space? No. I think it was me.
“I forgive you.”
“nice seeing you again Decius.” King said.
“King.” Decius responded.
We were at the gateway. I had trained myself to get in peripheral vision mode whenever I was around it. King and Decius looked different. Almost glowing.
Decius turned and walked straight up the path toward the glow and disappeared.
“How did he do that?” I asked.
King shook his head.
over time as I spoke with King about what happened, I came to better understand what King meant when he said every soul has a choice. Experience time directly, stay in the garden, or return to the creator. And I noticed the gateway was different. The peripheral path seemed to call me. When I mentioned it to King he seemed uninterested.
“Why are you dismissive of the call?” I asked, curious to see if he’d actually answer this time.
He paused for a moment, or maybe years. “I am King of the garden because I am its first inhabitant. I tend the garden, and Hell. I am time’s caretaker. I’ve been able to choose to unknow since the beginning of time.”
Silence.
“Yet I’m still here.”
1992 A.D.
a few years later, I was watching the Kosmos Pnoē and tuned into one of my favorite shows of the time. Did you know they actually teach classes that cover one of my most comprehensive treatises? I find one particularly interesting because the instructor has such a hard time grasping the peripheral vision approach to key concepts. The closer you get to the truth... hiccup.10
I took a deep breath.
“King, I’ve made my decision.”
End Notes:
this epiphany took me years to discover.
it operates best in full light.
i would later discover my torturer was present.
i hope he can forgive me
yes! It finally becomes clear.
a prism of deceit masking the one holy truth.
how can one truly experience divine love without unconditional forgiveness?
the attachments from our lives can be nearly impossible to give up.
the choice offers a glimpse of what it means to truly unknow.
try with all your might, but don’t try too hard.