Soul Matters Volume Six: Bondage Battleground

Phil returned to his body. His sat on his leather bean bag in this efficiency apartment and felt shaken and scared. All he wanted right now was comfort and understanding. Neither seemed available in sufficient measure from his support system. Understanding might come from Sandy, even Becky. Comfort from Pam was possible, but she would want to know why he was upset, and rightly so.

Phil had always felt alone. After decades, he adjusted to it. In moments of loneliness, he consoled himself by remembering he was trapped inside his own skin, his own mind, his own karma. No one could truly share his experiences. No one. In the past this logic worked to get him moving again along the solitary track of his existence. But not today. His aloneness disabled him completely.

Pam found him sitting on the cushion in the corner with his head in his hands. He was unresponsive to her greeting and the chatter about her day. The fog he was in prevented him from responding to her concern when it came, but he let her lead him off the cushion and into a chair. Then he drank the strong green tea she brewed. It warmed him enough to break the stupor.

He welcomed her with a brittle smile.

“You had me worried for a minute, Phil. What happened?”

“A choice between the devil and the deep blue sea.”

“Your mysterious training?”

“My mysterious training,” he said with a snort.

“Phil, don’t shut me out. I may not be able to help, but I can share your burden.”

“I wouldn’t wish this on anybody.” Then he smiled as he thought about how he might explain his current dilemma. Manuel’s plan included Echidna eating Phil for lunch in the hopes he would be regurgitated as a shaman. If that didn’t sound crazy....

She sat across the table from him and sipped tea from a mug. Placing it on the table she began in what Phil recognized as an attempt at consolation through a shared experience.

She told him, “Addicts and alcoholics suffer from a terminal disease, but it’s not really our drug of choice. It is actually terminal loneliness. It’s terminal ‘too unique or too special for anyone to understand us.’ It’s terminal self-centeredness. We convince ourselves we won’t get addicted. We can handle anything life throws at us. We are compulsively self-reliant and hopelessly codependent. It’s only when we face certain death do we consider walking into those rooms where people like us give us hope.

“And do you know how we turn it around? Working the Steps is a big part, but that’s not it. Getting tokens to mark our months or years of sobriety helps. It’s a goal we can set our sights on and achieve, but that’s not it. The real reason, Phil, we share our stories. We talk about our daily struggles. We rejoice in the miracles each day brings us. We connect in a primal, soul-to-soul way. Those rooms become our safety net. And together we find a way for each of us to realize our potential.”

Phil heard the words and felt her passion. He also caught her meaning. She feared for his life and was offering the one lifeline she trusted.

“It’s a long story,” he sighed, making up his mind to let her in. “Long and pretty unbelievable. If I tell you, you have to promise you won’t call the men in white coats.”

She grinned, “I never liked authority figures anyway. Boomers like you were anti-Establishment, but you tried to fix the system. We of Generation X knew it couldn’t be fixed. We trust none of it -- least of all drug-pushing psychiatrists.”

Phil couldn’t muster a laugh or even a return smile for her characterization of their respective moments in time. Instead he began the story.

“A few years ago, when I was meditating, I ended up in the patio of the Archangel Manuel. It seems God locked our brainwaves together. Now, when I meditate, it’s the only place I can go. Manuel was as upset about it as I was, but he knew the only way to get me out of his patio was to teach me how to navigate in the realms of Spirit.”

Pam’s face softened, “God has a sense of humor.”

He told her all of it: the Garden of Eden, the Flood, the Tower of Babel, Moses and the Prophets; he explained about the various masks of God, the Council of Punishment, the black Wall and ha-satan; finally he told her about the trail through the forest to the rune-infested arch, Apache shamanism, and the initiation Manuel thought he had to undergo -- eaten by Echidna.

When he stopped talking, he sipped his cold tea and realized this unburdening did something. Not like the cleansing of confession; it was a different feeling. Since sharing this deeply of himself was an alien activity, he didn’t know what he was feeling.

Pam was no help either when she asked, “How do you feel?”

He smiled, “I don’t have a name for it. Different. Unburdened. I don’t know.”

“It’s quite a story, Phil.”

“I know. I’ve told Sandy some of it, and Donna and Pastor Mike were there for some of it. Nobody knows the full extent of my secret life, except you. I think now you can see why.”

“Yes. But the abbot would suspect something like this. So would his friend from Thailand, Jyoti. The sacred journey to the Great Death is a known journey.”

Phil laughed, “Getting eaten by Echidna isn’t the Great Death. It’s a death of some sort, but Manuel has been wrong before.”

“Is it a ritual in shamanism?”

“Oh, yes. Usually it’s an unexpected one. The coyote jumps out of hiding, kills and eats you. Manuel’s plan looks nothing like what I’ve read about shamanism.”

“Still, the spirit of the ritual is preserved.”

“It would seem so. I know the terror I felt about it matches the subjective accounts of shamans.”

“You don’t trust Manuel.”

“I don’t trust any of them. Their world, their values, their perspective is so different from ours. They live, work and play in a reality so far removed from ours it sometimes makes me crazy trying to keep them separate.”

She reached across the table to take his hand, “You do a good job of it. I never suspected what you’re going through. Although you do possess a depth I don’t see very often, especially in men.”

“Well, that’s good news. I’m not shallow anymore.”

She smiled with him and asked, “What will you do?”

“Ask Morrigan and Green Man about it. If they agree it’s a reasonable risk, I’ll go forward with Manuel’s plan and see what happens.”

“Good idea, but what about those symbols on your arch? You said they connect you to past lives. Maybe you already were an initiated shaman.”

At that moment, Azazel walked through the wall and into the room. Pam started, pulled her hand back and shrank into her chair.

Phil glanced from Azazel back to Pam, “You can see him?”

She nodded, and Azazel spoke, “Most addicts can see us, Phil. I thought you knew. They aren’t as committed to the consensus reality as others.”

“What are you doing here?” Phil demanded.

“Beelzebub wants to see you. He is supporting your endeavors.”

“Why?”

“Who knows? The former seraphim, Sammael, Abbadona and others oppose you. The former cherubim, Beelzebub, Balberith and so on support you. I don’t care one way or another. I follow Beelzebub. Anyway, he will meet you in the past where it’s safer. Go to Ekron in Philistia, 1000 BC.”

“How do I know it’s not a trap?”

“You don’t, but remember it was Beelzebub who aided Christ when he descended into Hell.”

“I’m not Christ.”

“Obviously. The point is, Beelzebub has a long view.”

Then Azazel disappeared.

Pam was still huddled in her chair, her frail body frozen in fear. Phil smiled at her, “Welcome to my world.”

“That was a demon,” Pam stuttered. “I’ve seen him before.”

“Azazel,” Phil confirmed. “Once a desert demon, he’s now in charge of a bunch of demons under Beelzebub. I wonder what they’re up to.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Of course, but fear gives them the power to eat your soul. When you manage your fear, they can’t act directly against you. They’re forced to act indirectly through other people and your environment.”

Pam stared at him disbelieving. Phil smiled again, “It’s the rules of their world.”

“Will you go?”

“Not without checking in with Morrigan and Green Man.”

“I feel cold.”

Phil went to the kitchen, reheated the tea and brought her a fresh mug. She drank it, still huddling in the chair, knees to chest. Phil returned to the kitchen and made dinner: Caesar salad from a bag-mix, and sirloin steaks he broiled in the oven. In fifteen minutes the meal was on the table.

“Eat. It will help,” he told her.

She stared at the food and said, “I’ve never seen him unless I was stoned." Then she looked at Phil. "Does that mean anything?”

“Only what he said. You’re not as hypnotized into the ‘real’ world as others. So you can see things that aren’t supposed to exist -- ghosts, spirits, demons, and all that,” Phil replied in a matter-of-fact way as he sat to eat.

Pam unfolded herself and took tentative bites of her dinner.

In bed that night she was needy and clung to him. All of her self-assurance seemed to have evaporated with Azazel’s appearance. Phil responded to her cues and gave her what she seemed to need. Finally, near midnight she fell asleep.

Around 4am, though, she bolted upright from a nightmare. He held her until she dozed off again, but the alarm sounded at 6am. She stumbled out of bed to get ready for work.

“Are you okay?” Phil asked as she prepared to leave.

“No,” she answered, “but I’ll be alright. I’m sorry I fell apart. I wanted so much to be there for you, but I’m grateful you were there for me.”

Phil chuckled, “It’s what friends do, Pam.”

She smiled sheepishly and left. Phil went back to sleep.

Later he got some work done. The economy was beginning to favor green solutions because of global warming and the economy. Second and third world countries were looking to the US to develop green technologies they could buy. Market demand was something corporations understood. Phil was, therefore, looking at markets in China, Europe, Brazil, and Africa. He spent most of the day doing so.

Pam called when she got off work and said she was going to a meeting. After that she was going to her own place unless Phil needed her. He declined but wondered if in fact it was she who may need him. She might be at risk for relapse because of her run-in with Azazel. Consequently, he told her he would call her at home after his date with Beelzebub.

Phil fussed around his apartment for a while; then he settled onto the black leather cushion. Soon he was walking down the trail to the stairs to the arch. He paused at the arch and studied the symbols carved into its stone face. He had touched one once, the upside down F, and he was transported back to early Ireland. Today none of the symbols called to him. He stepped through the arch to his Medicine Area.

Moving quickly to the ridge, he called out to Morrigan and Green Man. Moments later they stood beside him.

“Virgnous, you seem troubled,” Morrigan cooed, using the name of the man he was in early Ireland. Virgnous was a 5th Century devotee of Morrigan.

Phil brought them up to speed. He ended with, “What happens during the shaman initiation?”

Green Man answered, “As you suspect, it’s an ego death. You come back with the qualities of whoever devoured you. We don’t know much about Native American mythology, but Tiwaz was eaten by Fenrir, the wolf. Legend holds Tiwaz sacrificed his arm so Fenrir could be caged. In reality, Tiwaz came back with the patience of the wolf and its courage and loyalty to family. There is a rune named after him. It is shaped like an arrow.”

“The warrior rune,” Phil remembered. “There’s one on my arch.”

“Of course there is,” Morrigan said. “I would have no sons who were not warriors. This battle with Echidna will be hard-won. She won’t just pounce on you as spirit animals do. She will want to break you first so she won’t have to vomit you back.”

“They can do that? Just absorb someone?”

“I’m afraid so,” Green Man affirmed. “Like Typhon, Echidna is a manager of the undifferentiated Whole, the restless ocean where the individual wave is soon gone. She will make you relinquish your individuality rather than be a mediator for you to transcend it.”

“What can I do?”

“Call us into you when it begins,” Green Man answered. “We will do what we can.”

“Okay. Now what about Beelzebub?”

“It’s a trap,” Morrigan said in a matter-of-fact way.

“Azazel lied?”

“It’s what they do, dear boy. The time and place are the give-aways. Beelzebub was the city-god of Ekron. He was still known as Beelzebul back then. The Hebrews changed his name to ridicule his existence. He will be at his most powerful. Shall we go with you?”

Morrigan was smiling at him; anticipation for battle brought a steely glint to her dark eyes. He smiled back and took their hands. The trip through the disturbing plastic space began.

It ended in a port city on the Mediterranean. For its time, this would have been a large community. Rows of block-built buildings fronted a natural harbor. Wood-built houses lay behind them. In the center was a temple. It was taller than most of the other buildings, and it sported an A-frame roof. Nine columns supported a façade at the entrance, and Beelzebub’s substantial form was carved into the center of it.

They strode up the steps and entered the temple. The few worshippers, noticing them, hurried out. Phil brushed aside a red-robed priest, who also quickly exited. Then he called out, “I’m here, my lord.”

Beelzebub appeared on the raised platform ahead of them. Azazel and two other angels were with him.

“You brought company, Phil. Don’t you trust me?”

“State your business, demon,” his mother snapped.

“Morrigan,” Beelzebub leered and moved his large body to his throne. “It’s good to see you and Green Man again. How long has it been? A thousand years? Your fall from man’s favor hasn’t softened your attitude.”

“Worthy men and women have no trouble finding me,” she retorted. “State your business with our son.”

“I planned on offering him my protection.”

“Collect the bounty would be more believable.”

Nonplussed, Beelzebub struggled on by asking, “Do you know why human societies can never get it right?”

Phil knew, “We haven’t defeated Echidna. We have only repressed her.”

“But what is her gift?”

“Eros for the community.” Of that Phil was sure at this point. Vibrant communities capable of consensus building, committed to support each member of the tribe, was what needed to be won in this spiritual battle. The lack of it was what crippled the world.

“What do you think that would look like, once you get past the tribal stage?”

“I don’t know,” Phil answered. “We would have to figure it out through trial and error, I suppose.”

“Exactly. And during this process, humans would climb out of the consumer trance and actively engage with each other for the common good. They would find places in the economy for all races and genders. They would support each person's gifts. They would revamp education and business, and produce a sustainable economy to replace the growth economy. Not the optimal environment for any of us. Hence your problem is not only with us, but many angels of the light plan for your failure.”

Morrigan broke in, “Your point?”

“I brought Balberith. He’s worked up a contract. We will not target Phil’s daughter for any extraordinary attention, nor his son, nor his timid circle of friends. In addition, we will aid Phil, as best we can without breaking the rules, during his next two lifetimes.”

Phil smirked, “And in return, what must I do?”

“Die. A car wreck or something. We’ll make sure you don’t suffer. With you dead and in the bardo states, we can deal with Echidna.”

“Return her to Arima, you mean. Safe from all men who need to face her.”

“Well, yes. It’s the whole point of the exercise. Balance will be restored.”

“Echidna and Lilith have a much different view of balance.”

Beelzebub moved his bulk sideways in his marble throne. “I know. But it doesn’t matter; we out-number them. Sammael is on his way to remove her as we speak.”

“You lied to me,” Phil charged Azazel, who bowed his head in assent.

“Do we have a deal?”

“Fat chance,” Phil responded and took the hands of his true parents.

They flew again through liquid space to his Sacred Area. Once there, he ran to the gate in the wall surrounding his Medicine Area. As he ran from the only place in the Spirit realm where he was completely safe, he called out, “Morrigan, Green Man, please fill me with your presences.”

The sound of gleeful laughter echoed from the bluff behind him. Phil sprinted the gravel road across the barren plain of the Akashic Record. If Manuel’s directions were accurate, there was a veil separating this level of the Spirit world from the next. It was there he would find Echidna.

“Why don’t you fly, dear boy?” Morrigan asked from within him.

“I don’t know how.”

“Intention.”

Of course, he thought. Good thing Manuel wasn’t around to berate him for his stupidity. Then Phil was flying. At the boundary was a thick opaque curtain he pushed through.

He noticed the trail extended in a straight line to the horizon. Then he noticed the ghoulish creatures around him.

Pausing, he grabbed one, “Where is Echidna’s cave?”

The creature looked around and began crying.

Morrigan’s voice sounded again in his head, “Set the intention to be there. Then follow the energy of your intention.”

Phil formed the picture of the cave and set the intention to be there. A kind of gravity began pulling him to the left. Flying once again, he arrived at the cave moments later. Sammael wasn’t there. He’d made it in time.

“Echidna,” Phil called into the cave. “We must hurry. Sammael is coming.”

She slid forward on her twin tails. “It’s the insolent human. Are you ready to die?”

“Yes.”

Then the half-men came after Phil with whips as Echidna laughed. Phil could feel each lash stoke, but only for a moment. He was collapsing under the thrashing, but he was also disconnecting from his spirit-body, rising above it to view the gruesome scene of his destruction. He knew his true parents were responsible for insulating him from the abuse, providing him with security in the Observing Self.

Echidna came forward and ripped the arms off his flayed body and devoured them. She hacked off his legs and wolfed them down. Then she cut his torso into four parts and gobbled them last.

“Now we must leave you,” Green Man said. As their presence faded, Phil felt himself drawn into Echidna. Soon, everywhere he turned, there was only her essence. Quelling his anxiety, still sequestered in the Observing Self, he settled into absorbing the truth of her being.

He felt her essence as harmony. Many notes forming chords of music. Chords forming songs. Those were the songs of spring, summer, autumn, winter. The songs of mating, birthing, feeding, killing, dying. The songs of sunshine and moonlight. The songs of rain, snow, and thunder. The songs of trees, mountains, rivers, lakes, and the vast oceans. Dissonance resolved to harmony. Minor chords to major chords, then to minor sevenths, augmented fifths, and perfect fourths. And back to harmony.

Then he knew. He saw the template for community. He felt how diversity was honored within homogeneity. He heard the many voices harmonizing as one.

Then a violent spasm compressed him, and he flew out of Echidna’s mouth. The crowd with whips staggered back. Echidna clutched both hands to her face.

“What have you done?” she cried and her serpent legs writhed beneath her.

“I have learned from the Great Mother, and she has birthed me anew. Thank you, Echidna.”

“Don’t go,” she pleaded lunging forward.

“All mothers let their children go. Know that I will never dishonor you.”

“It’s been so long,” she said looking desperately around her. “I don’t know what to do now.”

“Tell Sammael he’s too late.”

Phil flew back to his Sacred Area and sat in the healing pool of water beneath a waterfall. The bluff was a few steps from the end of the mountains where the waterfall originated, and Phil gazed out across the landscape. He knew something changed within him, and he sat here in hot-tub comfort to sort it out.

The metaphor of music defined both Eros and the harmony of healthy community. The functional society embodied both. The leader of such a community, the maestro to keep the metaphor going, drew on the skills of the musicians, the genius of the composer, and his own interpretive calling to create a successful performance.

What this meant, translated to real life, would be professional citizens, the U.S. Constitution, and leaders invested in consensus solutions to problems. However, the contrary reality was the patriarchy, corporate interests, lobbyists, and political actions groups all of which usurped the citizen’s power. These same groups exempted themselves from the law. Leaders were puppets to institutional greed and the special interests of racism, exceptionalism, and consumerism. No one man, least of all Phil, could reverse this perversion of community. At least, not on a global or even a national or state scale; perhaps he could affect some level of change within the green community in his role as a consultant. That was do-able.

The deeper question, though, was how to integrate this change. The obvious answer was to reverse the negative impact of the patriarchy on himself. Whatever those were. He was a middle-aged white guy, the Sixties Revolution notwithstanding, and was therefore steeped in patriarchal values. These values were so ingrained in him he doubted he could ever make them conscious.

Perhaps this was how he would ‘defeat’ Lilith. She could bring all those values into awareness so he could change them. She was definitely and acutely aware of them.

A further thought struck him then. The yin way to defeat an enemy was not resistance but surrender. He defeated Echidna by accepting his sentence and using her energy for his victory. Theoretically he might do the same with Lilith.

Then it dawned on him he ought to let Manuel know what happened. He hurried out of the Sacred Area and back to his body. There he deepened his meditation and walked into Manuel’s patio.

The angel popped in moments later.

“You’ve been busy. Sammael is beside himself. I guess my plan worked.”

Phil smiled, “I had help from Morrigan and Green Man.”

“So that’s how you got around the problem.”

“What problem?”

“Echidna isn’t some garden-variety spirit animal. Getting eaten by one of them is no big deal. Echidna is semi-divine. She could have consumed you and you would never come back. I hadn’t figured a way around that little glitch in my plan.”

Phil shook his head, “Your plans are notoriously not well-thought-out, Manuel.”

The angel ignored the comment and asked, “What happened?”

“I understand community. We’re a far cry from it. I think I need Lilith to eradicate anything in me that would compete with healthy community.”

“The patriarchy competes with it. In you, it’s probably cellular deep.”

“Probably. But I’m not doing anything more today. I’m exhausted.”

Then Phil delivered a complete report. Azazel’s visit, Pam freaking out, the meeting with Beelzebub, and the initiation by Echidna. When he finished, Manuel was frowning, his aura showing shades of gray.

“Did you miss the veiled threat from Beelzebub?”

“I guess so.”

“He said he would call off his demons if you agree, but he didn’t say what would happen if you turned him down. Presumably, he will turn loose his demons.”

“On my kids and my friends,” Phil sighed. “I guess I better warn them.”

“Pam especially. Donna can take care of herself, but a warning wouldn’t hurt either. So, get to it. I’ll have a chat with Lilith.”

Phil returned to his body and called Pam.