The Wilderness of the Mind of Man Part 3

Sometimes, when you start something, you ask yourself, why am I doing this? That’s what’s been happening with me and this blog. I don’t consider myself particularly Afrocentric, but I do consider myself natural. And naturally, my brown skin and tightly curled hair identify me to my ancestry. A significant part of my ancestry is African. A significant part of my history and culture lies in Africa. It does not make me any better or worse than anyone else. It is simply truth.

I am intrigued by history. It provides the context in which we live our lives today. The past, present, and future are inextricably intertwined in more ways than we can imagine. History tells the stories of our ancestors, not just blood ancestry, but national and cultural ancestry as well. Telling the stories of our past allows us to extract wisdom from those who have gone before us. The challenge was, as far as I knew for many years – before slavery, there was no history of my people and culture.

Eventually I found snippets and whispers of a history before slavery while attending a historically black university in the U.S.A. Floating around among these whispers was this text that I have been narrating on this blog: The Wilderness of the Mind of Man. It is deeply poetic and philosophical, imbued with wisdom.

It tells of a journey, out from a garden, a paradise much like Eden, in search of the understanding that would make the seeker master of himself and the garden. Along the way our wanderer encounters other wanderers who have either given up searching for paradise and are trying to make their living in the desert, search fruitlessly in the wrong places, or create their own imitations of the garden and use the guise of “authority” to mislead our wanderer.

In this third installment our wanderer encounters the most advanced of these authority figures. He also finds that what he has been searching for has come to him.

(Photo by Kelene Blake: Ogoni Mask of Nigeria)

Transcript:

Again my heart misgave me, and strength deserted my limbs; and I looked for some wise and powerful guide to aid my faltering steps. And I came to a House of Crystal shining with many jewels and begged the Man who stood by its door to help me upon my way. The man was robed in a gorgeous robe of many splendid colors; and he waved me on with a milk-white wand of the Sacred Tree, Authority: “My son, come within and rest,” he said, and took me by the hand. “I ask no service but that you should wear the garments that I shall give you.”

He clothed me in brilliant robes, and shaded my eyes with strange-hued crystals; then he led me gently forward and left me alone in a wondrous garden. The place was strange and lovely and filled with a changeful mystery: endless vistas of trees and flowers extended on every hand. Among the trees were numberless lakes shining in misty beauty; and I leaped towards one with joyful heart to slake my thirst in its waters.

Then I fell to earth, bruised and stunned; for a cold, hard barrier had risen before my feet, and stopped them in mid-jump: the glorious landscape was shattered; nothing appeared about me but a chaos of shifting colors and vast mocking forms. I arose and tore the robe from my body and cast the crystals in wrath from my eyes; and I saw that I stood in a narrow courtyard with walls all hung with mirrors. The lovely vistas of waving trees were nothing but tangled sickly weeds. The myriad shining lakes were but shallow stagnant pools.

Once again my Father’s VOICE spoke clearly in my ear: “Face the Desert with Strong Heart, my son,” it said, “Seize the Lost Kingdom with your Strong Hand, for that way and only that way will you gain Kingship.”

So I went forth into the Desert, and set my Heart to conquer it asking no longer aid from any man. I turned my face from the ways of men and my eyes from their foolish works. I traveled the Desert Sands alone until hunger had melted my flesh and thirst had dried up the springs of my life, and death walked close behind me, his hand outstretched to seize me. But his fingers failed to grasp me, though many times they touched me, for again and again, though I fainted and fell, yet again and again did I rise. Again and again in the dews of the night, in a trickle amid the burning sands, in the hollow heart of the desert flower, I found enough pure cold water to send me forward refreshed.

But I did not find that land, and that Pool which I sought, and at last my strength was spent. My garments had fallen into shreds, and my sandals had crumbled upon my feet. The night of the Desert was upon me. Darkness and Silence surrounded me. I tottered and fell to earth, thinking to myself, now I die!

For long I lay like one dead: then my hand outstretched touched soft and dewy grass. My nostrils were filled with the aroma of flowers, and my ears the pleasant murmur of waters. I opened my eyes and saw that I lay in a place of LIGHT and Beauty: jeweled lawn, fruit-hung trees extended on every side. Among the glades a deep, cool lake gleamed soft in the Gold of Sunrise; and the azure air above me thrilled with the notes of bright-winged birds.