By: Dr. Paul Mach, DN

The parable continues:
Summary: Spain 1400s, a very worldly charismatic young man was given a large sum of money and a treasure map to the Fountain of Youth by a mystical sage. Our lad realized that the first step of the journey began not when he took the money and map but when he actually made the decision to not take the money and run, but to actually go on the journey and take the sage’s risk of finding out what illusions and reality are, how they differ, and where one ends and the other begins.

…That laugh – the youth would never forget, rang in his head as he started preparing for the journey. He knew in his heart that this quest for the Fountain of Youth would be an experience that would change his world forever. He was going to utilize the map given him by the mysterious old sage who saw something in him that he was unable to see. It cost him exactly all the money to procure a large three mast ship and the men who would accompany him. He was willing to risk everything for something in which he only had a vision, a feeling about.

On a beautiful spring morning they set sail for a voyage that would take them numerous months. To make a long voyage concise, about two months into their journey a typhoon hit destroying part of their masts and half of the crew, and throwing them off course. Two months later another storm hit destroying the remainder of the masts and more crewmembers. The lad was overwhelmed and the crew was riotous. The boat became a ghost ship with just the few members left. They drifted hopelessly for years. They never did find the Fountain of Youth, or did they?

As the legend goes they drifted around at sea for a long time. “How long?” you may ask. Well this is where the memoirs get interesting. Our youth was persistent in finding the Fountain. He was able to fully enroll the dirty dozen of crew with him. They were committed, they had cut off all option of return without successfully fulfilling their dream. There was no returning. They were men with a mission and truly had the eye of the tiger as they pursued their singular collective goal. They let go of all the illusions and rules set down by the remainder of the world. They created their own new rules. They didn’t have to follow man’s agreed upon law that was perpetrated. They had truly stepped outside what we call real. They had entered the zone- the illusion, the new reality.

As they drifted, and searched they agreed as a whole when they needed to find an island with fresh water and food, and before long it appeared. In agreement when a storm would come they would, by chance, find a natural port on a deserted island. As a crew member would occasionally become injured they in unison would offer him their goodwill, love and energy and he would coincidentally recover. This became commonplace. No one seemed to notice these serendipitous events occurring. They were all so living in the moment, participating in life and the quest, and simply enjoying themselves that life just happened, it ceased to be a struggle.

How were they enjoying themselves, you may ask, when they were on a demolished ship drifting the ocean? Well they didn’t see it like that. They didn’t see life like we do in the illusion. Their life and work was no longer work, it was an outward expression of who they were. They had died and surrendered to life. They now were life. They were dedicated to there goal, and decided to live each day fully as the searched. As I said before, their needs were simple and all they all had to do was agree for essentials and they would drift upon an island where they would stay and live in tropical paradise until they agreed to go searching again. Life flowed serendipitously without struggle. This became their world. They were so into their lives and the moment that they didn’t even notice the time passing. They searched and they grew comfortable in their new state of being, of experiencing, of creating, of living.

One day as they were drifting along eating the most delicious fresh fruit from the last island, they vacationed, when they saw a port. It looked familiar. They were home. As they pulled into the harbor they were amazed at how different everything looked. Upon porting this motley crew of men were greeted by the crowds. As they were approached discussions ensued and it was discovered that they were in the right place, their home port, but at a bizarre time. It was now the mid 1500’s. They had been lost at sea for almost 90 years and by no uncertain measures were all fairly healthy middle-aged men. It was an uproar and squabbles, persecution and other worldly matters of consequence ensued.

Our young lad, who appeared in his 40’s, was now according to linear time about 120 years old. He sneaked off from the crowds and went to his old favorite “thinking place”. Here he sat by a stream with a tablet and ink and finished his memoirs. The laugh of the old man echoed in his head as he began his writing. He remembered his conversation of what only seemed like yesterday. He truly had to die and forego all of his beliefs to live. The old man knew there was no physical Fountain of Youth. Life and death exists in all of us. It is the struggle and the preconceived notions, lies and illusions we function with in this life that exacerbate this terminal earthly condition. He realized that it was in living and enjoying the process that they lived.

The quest/journey was a smokescreen to get them all out of the world and its notions of past, present and future. It got them out of the world of right and wrong, where there are winners and losers and put them into a different reality, beyond limitation, where they all could win. It all was an illusion as the old sage had said. True being of self pulls you out of the game and allows a full manifestation of yourself and your life.

At this our explorer cried. He felt his oneness and inner connection not just with his group of fellow travelers, but realized we all are fellow travelers. He cried because he truly realized that as you do to any of your brothers, you ultimately do to yourself. There needn’t be winners or losers, just participants. He cried for the pain and illusion that became group consciousness. What was believed to be real, wasn’t. He cried because what the world needed was just compassion, love and kindness towards each other and to realization that if the game was changed we all could live instead of struggle. Life would be a magnificent manifestation of past, present and future. They could all win and live happily ever after.

With this our enlightened, loving being ran down the mountain ready to share his love. He truly had found the meaning of life and wanted all to live happily ever after in the precious present as brothers and sisters. As he came into town, the first rock hit him on the head and then the next. The crowd shouted, “ kill the last of the witches”. He died with nothing, but love and compassion in his heart. They did not have any idea what they were doing, and off they went, creating their reality.

As the lad was hauled away, a mystical old sage walked over and picked up his memoirs. He had a deep haunting laugh.