A Soul’s Cry for Unity in the Eternal Light
Beloved seekers, skeptics, friends, and those who wander in the shadows of doubt, gather close—closer still, until our hearts beat as one. Today, I speak not as a voice above you, but as a fellow traveler, my soul trembling with 83 years of longing, a Catholic altar boy at 14, knees pressed to cold stone in awe, now standing before you, credentials in hand (B.Min., M.Min., Th.D., and a License to Preach from Berean Bible School), yet broken open by the boundless love of the Divine. I’ve danced through the mystic halls of Rosicrucians (AMORC), where the inner light whispered secrets of the cosmos; mastered the disciplined path of Traditional Martialists, finding strength in surrender; and whirled with Sufi dervishes, lost in the ecstasy of God’s embrace. My blog, Eternal Oasis of Souls, is no monument, but a tear-stained journal, a map for those lost in the wilderness of the heart.
Oh, have you ever wept for a stranger? Felt their sorrow pierce your chest like a lover’s cry? Or have you, in fear or fury, built walls of words—skepticism, bigotry, scorn—to shield your tender heart from truths too radiant to bear? I have known both paths. As a young man, I too raised barriers, until the Divine, like a Sufi poet’s song, slipped through the cracks, singing: Every soul, from the atheist to the devout, is a drop in the ocean of eternity.
In my post Reincarnation Vs. Resurrection (January 28, 2014), I wrestled with life’s great mysteries: Do we cycle through time, or rise once to glory? The Rosicrucian within me, schooled in AMORC’s ancient wisdom, saw the soul as a star, journeying through veils of matter to return to its source. The Sufi in me, echoing Rumi, heard the Divine whisper: Beyond rebirth or resurrection, there is only love’s eternal now. Yet, I found no final answer, only this truth—whether we return or ascend, we are woven by love’s unbreakable thread. To the skeptic who mocks my faith, I say: Your doubt is a sacred fire, refining truth in its blaze. To the bigot who divides by race or creed, I plead, with tears streaming: Look into another’s eyes—see your own soul, radiant and whole. To the troll who hurls venom, I offer my heart: Your pain is my pain, and I weep for the wounds you hide.
Rosicrucian wisdom taught me to seek the Light Divine, a glow within every heart, even those cloaked in anger or fear. In AMORC’s sanctum, I learned that the universe is a symphony, each soul a note in its melody, yearning for harmony. As a Martialist, I found true strength not in conquest, but in mastering the self—turning rage into compassion, division into embrace. And in the Sufi’s whirling dance, I glimpsed Sant Mat’s inner Light and Sound, a celestial current that binds Christian, Jew, Muslim, and seeker alike. My seminary training, earned through years of sweat and prayer, was not a crown, but a call to serve—to lift the fallen, to comfort the weary. In the silence of Surat Shabd Yoga, I heard the divine sound, a melody that sings: You are not alone.
Imagine a world where we pause before we wound, where we listen before we judge. Picture a forum, not of clashing swords, but of shared tears—tears for the child who hungers, the mother who grieves, the soul who feels forsaken. I’ve seen you, my critics, in those forums where you sought to dim my light. I hold no grudge, for I too have stumbled. Instead, I invite you to this vision, born of Rosicrucian insight: We are all alchemists, transforming the lead of hate into the gold of love. The Sufi in me cries, with Hafiz: The heart is a thousand-stringed lute; pluck one, and all sing. The Sant Mat seeker in me beholds the inner Light, shining in Christian cross, Jewish star, and every human gaze.
To the atheist, I say, with a voice breaking: Your quest for reason is a prayer, a chant of the soul’s deep yearning. To the racist, I whisper, my heart aching: The blood in our veins flows red, a single river from a single source. To the troll, I offer my trembling hand: Let us weep together, for your barbs are but cries for love. And to all, I share this truth from my post The Truth Shall Set Us Free: Truth is not a weapon, but a bridge, spanning the chasm between us.
So, let us weep—yes, weep!—until our tears become rivers, washing away venom, doubt, division. Let us weep for the beauty of our shared fragility, for the courage it takes to lower our shields, for the miracle of a moment when we choose love over hate. In the Rosicrucian light, I see you as divine sparks, each perfect in your imperfection. In the Sufi’s song, I hear your hearts calling to the Beloved. In Sant Mat’s inner vision, I behold you bathed in eternal radiance. I’ve walked this path—from altar to ashram, dojo to pulpit, whirling in the Sufi’s dance—not to claim superiority, but to testify: The Divine is in you, in me, in all. Will you join me in this cry for unity, this song of the soul, this weeping embrace of the eternal light?
Jim Sutherland
