Het Mysterie Van 16 Juni of het verhaal van het geloof

Geloof of hoe een mens zijn leven soms onnodig moeilijk maakt… Een nieuw boek van de schrijver zonder lezers!

Please note, that the most of this blog is written in English. For more information you can go to this link

Het Mysterie Van 16 Juni begint met de klassieke verdrijving uit het Paradijs. Wanneer het kind van de appel van de boom van goed en kwaad heeft gegeten, komt er geen einde aan zijn oordelen. De engel met het heen en weer zwaaiende, brandende zwaard wijst eerst naar de ander. En dan terug weer naar het kind zelf, want de engel is zijn superego!

Verder is er de veerman in de uiterwaarden, de herder met zijn schapen, de waardin van de herberg en het heertje in de Himalaya. En niet te vergeten Georges Regnault in Normandië en de Native Americans in het woud. Dan zijn er nog de kolonel met zijn obsessie voor de aardasverschuivingen en het medium op het feest. En eindelijk, eindelijk is daar, aan het eind van de tunnel: de Liefde.

Dan, als een donderslag bij heldere hemel, is de man terug in het Paradijs, nu met lege handen en zonder oordelen.

Hij is eindelijk vrij…

Voor meer achtergrond, klik op deze link.

Voor meer informatie over de schrijver zonder lezers klik op deze link

Voor meer informatie over Het Mysterie Van 16 Juni of om te bestellen, klik op deze link

Het verhaal van het geloof
De Levensboom: een verhaal van geloof, hoop en liefde…

Dangave of hoe je je weg vindt in een wereld die uit balans is – Hoop

Hoop en hoe de zon komt op boven de beste van alle denkbare werelden. Maar voor hoe lang voelt dat nog zo?


Het zijn de jarig dertig van de twintigste eeuw. In de bossen van het Noorden van Canada heeft de vijftienjarige Cedric, die in het houthakkerskamp zit samen met zijn beste vriend Dixie, nog geen weet van het verdriet dat zich spoedig zal aandienen. In één klap verandert zijn wereld. En dan is er nog die ene avond, waarop hij een heel bijzondere opdracht krijgt.


In de uiterwaarden van de Duitse Niederrhein zwerft Ernst rond, samen met zijn hond Mutzi, zijn beste vriend. Zijn wereld wordt steeds grimmiger. Hij ziet de haat en het verdriet van de oorlog van heel dichtbij. Ernst worstelt, uitgerekend in Nazi-Duitsland, met zijn homoseksualiteit. Hij ziet zichzelf als mislukt. Ook voelt hij een extreme haat voor zijn broer Günter. Maar waarom? Net als Cedric krijgt ook Ernst een opdracht. Lukt het hem, ondanks zijn negatief zelfbeeld, deze opdracht te vervullen?

Wat verbindt Ernst en Cedric met elkaar? De opdracht? Of is er meer…? Is er ook nog hoop?

En wat is in vredesnaam Dangave…?

Voor meer uitleg over hoop en Dangave, klik op deze link.

Meer weten of Dangave bestellen? Klik op deze link voor meer informatie.

Hoop: hoe koninkrijken als oude en vermoeide bomen omvallen...
Koninkrijken en keizerrijken die als oude en vermoeide bomen vallen om ruimte te maken voor de kleine boompjes die daaronder groeien…

Hopi en mijn boeken: Liefde in de Vijfde Wereld – Liefde

Liefde, Love, Liebe, Amour, Amor

For English readers: Please be aware that only the first part of this post is in Dutch. You will find the English part under the heading And at last. The rest of this blog is written in English, too.

Uilenwijsheid

De uil zit buiten in de boom. Hij kijkt diep in mijn ziel om te zien of in het spiegelende water, nu verstikt door het woekerende kroos van gekwetstheid, verdriet en verlangen, de hemel nog weerkaatst wordt in de ene open plek die er nog rest.

De engel die met het heen en weer flitsende, brandende zwaard zwaait, kijkt mij aan en zegt: ‘Weet wat er geschreven staat! Wie zonder zonde is, werpt de eerste steen. En oordeel niet opdat je niet wordt geoordeeld. Met het oordeel waarmee je de ander oordeelt, zul je zelf geoordeeld worden. Mijn zwaard flitst heen en weer. Eerst wijst het naar de ander en dan naar jezelf. Want ik ben je superego. Word als een kind en oordeel niet meer.’

Dan kijkt de uil mij aan en zegt: ‘Waarom moest je er 144.000 levens over doen om hier op dezelfde plek weer uit te komen? Nu kom je met lege handen en zonder oordelen. Dat is goed zo. Er wacht je nu nog één opdracht. Je weet zelf welke dat is. Want jij bent de schrijver zonder lezers.’ 

Liefde in de Vijfde Wereld

Liefde in de Vijfde Wereld

Hopi en mijn boeken. Bij Brave New Books zijn mijn boeken verschenen. De titels zijn Het Mysterie van 16 Juni, Dangave en Liefde in de Vijfde Wereld.

Liefde in de Vijfde Wereld leent er zich voor om intuïtief te lezen. Dat wil zeggen, je laat het boek op een willekeurige bladzij openvallen en begint vanaf daar te lezen.

Hiernaast of hieronder vind je links naar de website waar je deze boeken kunt bestellen.

Voor wie een eerste indruk wil hebben waar deze boeken over gaan, is deze blog een mooie opstap. De blog is overigens in het Engels.

Let op dat het begin van de blog op pagina 4 onderaan staat. Klik op deze hyperlink om er rechtstreeks naar toe te gaan. Onderaan de blog kun je naar het vervolg, First Flash of Eden, gaan en zo verder.

Maar je kunt er natuurlijk ook zomaar een willekeurige bijdrage uitpikken, bijvoorbeeld https://www.dangave.net/hopi-life-plan/brotherhood/

And at last...

Finally, the rest of this blog is in English. Because it is meant for a wider public.

Likewise The Mystery of June 16 has been published as an epub by Brave New Books for €5,00. See the advertisement on this page or click here .

Above all, enjoy reading this blog. However, take it all in very slowly. In other words: easy come, easy go. Certainly, that will do the trick.

So, you will find the start on page 4. Therefore click on this hyperlink to go directly to the first blog.

Or maybe you might just choose a page at random, for instance https://www.dangave.net/hopi-life-plan/brotherhood/

The Law of Love or how to experience that All is One

Law of LoveDelight of the Law

Law of Love

Law of Love

When nothing’s left to rely on anymore,

Only the Law of Love will remain.

The Law of Love is not about repression or dogma.

Not about rules or brute force.

The Law of Love is about how I deal with others

every step of the way.

The Law of Love gave me,

That nothing else has given me before.

No image of god, no guru, no method, no teacher

Has ever brought me greater joy and delight

Than knowing and following the Law of Love.

After all my searching under the sun I never found a stable image of God,

But thankfully I found the Law of Love.

And where does the Law of Love presses and urges us to?

Treat every living creature in the world

The way you would have liked to be treated,

If you, by a simple twist of fate,

Had been him, or her, or it.

Because remember: All is One.

And still I forget about the Law of Love day after day

And bring misfortune and sorrow into my life.

O Universe, teach me to pursue the Law of Love

Instead of the petty delusions of my own karma.

The Words of the Law call for love and love alone.

Everything else that’s been said

Or written about them is commentary, manipulation

Dogma and idleness.

What I’ve got to say might be an example of that.

No War, But Peace

The Law of Love doesn´t call for war,

It calls for Peace.

It calls for delight and happiness and

For putting ourselves in the position of others,

Even if the others are our enemies

Or, like we say, just animals.

Act according to the Law.

Because remember: All is One.

The Law of Love calls for openness

And for Belief in an undreamed-of perception,

That grows on the Tree of Life far away from our dreamworld.

The Law of Love calls me,

As It calls every living creature in the Universe.

Because remember: All is One.

Back to the Garden of Eden
The Law of Love. Don’t judge anymore. Be like the child you once were. Then the cherubim and the flaming sword which turns every direction, your superego, will disappear. Painting in the Saint Barbarachurch in Bunnik, the Netherlands. Made by Wim van Woerkom (Nijmegen, March 8, 1905 – February 28, 1998)

Information on the Saint Barbarachurch https://nl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sint-Barbarakerk_(Bunnik)

More about Wim van Woerkom https://nl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wim_van_Woerkom

These pages are available in Dutch only. However, the page on the Saint Barbarachurch gives an impression of the context of the painting by Wim van Woerkom.

Brotherhood: Ismail and Isaac and their tiny cornerstone

Brotherhood

Brotherhood
Working together

It was dark and and it was raining cats and dogs.

Traffic came to a complete standstill in my city tonight.

I took the ring road and tried to get into town from the other side.

Driving downtown I saw a woman with a headscarf

And a little boy standing on the sidewalk, waiting to cross the street.

I braked and halted for them to cross over.

In the shine of my headlights

The boy waved jubilantly his hands.

The woman nodded her head and smiled happily.

So why don’t we just pause and halt for each other every once in a while?

The world would be so much more beautiful this way.

I have always thought of packlife in terms of dominance and submission.

But now I know that deep bonds of friendship and brotherhood

Are far more important.

It is like the story of Ismail and Isaac:

Working together from a tiny cornerstone

They might build Gods Kingdom of Peace.

Full Circle or how Paradise was regained for a brief moment

Today the story made full circle. As a child my father´s garden was a real paradise to me. There were trees, shrubs, crops. In between the plants there were exciting paths that nevertheless felt safe. In summer the green coolness of the leaves protected me from the scorching sun. There were animals, too, but I did not call the animals by their names. Nothing had a name yet: the plants nor the animals nor the green coolness nor the scorching sun: to me it was as if it were one. And not only didn’t I distinguish between the phenomena around me, I didn’t experience a separation between those phenomena and me either. All was one and eternal.

But one day I was riding on my tricycle in my father’s garden: back and forth. Just a few inches, back and forth, back and forth, over and over and over again.

The day before it had rained a lot and with my head bent downwards I watched the wheels dig deep into the mud. Back and forth, back and forth, still deeper into the morass.

I must have been four or five years old. Oh, I awoke in anger, so alone and terrified. I wasn’t part of the wholeness anymore.

***

It was an early winter morning, two years ago. I drove my wife to work. Wet snow was drizzling down. Suddenly she says:

“I know what you should do. You get off that bike, leave it stuck in the mud and start looking for a new horizon. Remember as a child, in church, what you wanted to be? Well, become that bird in the child’s hand and fly away!”

Full Circle

Full Circle
Back in the Garden, for a brief moment…

Today the story has come full circle. I was back in the village of the cinema.

The cinema has been closed for years. As I passed by I saw a child’s tricycle lying in the middle of the road. Without thinking I picked up the tricycle and put it at the front door of the former cinema.

It wasn’t until I walked away, that I realized how wonderful and mysterious this moment was. Thank God, because otherwise I might have taken a picture and spoiled the mystery.

***

I remember what my wife had also said during the car trip two years ago: ”You may believe that you are kicked out of paradise. Or you may believe you walked out voluntarily to experience life in a world with myriads of choices. In either case you may stay out of paradise or you may return at any time you choose to do so.”

For a brief moment I felt like flying, far away from the mud.

For a brief moment…

 

Death, grace, glory: found on a day when all of God’s promises are fulfilled

Death, grace, glory

In Lorraine we drive down another hill and I think of my father. How he had lied down on the floor in a nursing home, blood gulping out of his mouth, dying from gastric hemorrhage. An hour and a half before his doctor had called me on the phone. He wanted my father sent to hospital, but my father had refused. The doctor asked if I could affirm that my father was lucid and aware of what was going on. In the background I heard my father saying that he was as lucid as could be and that he didn’t want treatment. I asked if I should come, but my father was adamant and said I shouldn’t.

All day long he had been throwing up blood and he knew he was going to die. But he didn’t want me around. He wanted to spare me the sight. I had to respect his wish, but ever since I have been torn between guilt of not being with him in that moment of agony and gratitude for his characteristic unselfishness. It remains a note of discord in my life that will never be harmonized. My father was my brother, my friend, my closest ally.

The Coast No Cow Can Tell

As we reached the valley, I realized that the song was not only about my father’s death but also about the cow which now lay dying in the meadow. Tears were dropping from my chin on the steering wheel. As I looked at my wife next to me I saw that she was crying, too. Now there was nothing that stood between me and sorrow and relief. I had become sorrow and relief itself. Is it the real me for a moment: the child in front of the silver screen?

It is the last song of the album. The silence afterwards weighed lightly upon us as we were driving through another empty French village. We neared the last houses of the village. The road took a slight bend to the right. Around the bend a bird was sitting right in the middle of the road and it kept sitting there until we were very, very close. As if to show itself to us in all its alien-like beauty. When we were at a distance of about ten meters, the hoopoe flew up and disappeared into the trees by the side of the road.

Instantly I understood that the cow had just died and sent the hoopoe as a sign.

It was 11 AM.

***

Death, grace, glory

Finally we arrived at the Basilique du Bois-Chenu, which is devoted to Joan of Arc. It’s two kilometers from Domrémy-la-Pucelle where Joan of Arc was born.

Outside the church men in working clothes were putting up a stage and a huge lighting installation. A man in a green coat greeted us and said something in French. As I didn’t understand him at first, he quickly switched to a somewhat laborious English. Carefully searching for words, he explained that next weekend there was a spectacle with 200 supporting actors and a sound and light show. The show was directed by the famous Damien Fontaine who is, among other achievements, a four time winner of the Trophée des Lumières at the Lyon Festival of Lights. For a moment I considered staying longer, but alas we had to be home by next weekend.

It was such a nice gesture from a stranger though: taking time and bowing to us by speaking laborious English. (We should bow to each other more often).

Such a nice gesture on this day of death, grace, glory.

***

When we returned to our house on the hill, we heard that the cow had been euthanized that morning after having been examined by a vet of the insurance company.

“At around 11 AM,” the farmer said (truly, truly true of course).

That evening the glowing finger on the hill glowed sadly and gloriously in the red and purple sunset.

Death, grace, glory

The Red and Purple Sunset of the Day of our Death, grace, glory