The Name He Kept: Short Story

Hello loves.

Join me tonight for story time.

Tonight's story is inspired by John of the Cross - an enquiry into knowing spirit through studying texts and knowing spirit through your own direct experience of it.

Transcript

Hello, Dear ones. And welcome to today's short story. The name he kept. There was a scholar named Ezra who came to sit with an old contemplative in the mountains. He had read every mystical text he could find. He arrived with three satchels of books and a list of questions. The old man looked at the satchels and said nothing. For the first week, Ezra asked his questions. The old man answered some, Deflected others, And twice simply walked away mid-sentence to tend to his small garden. Ezra had found this maddening. I have studied the soul for fifteen years, Esri said one evening, With some heat. Tell me about it, Set them on. And Ezra did for nearly an hour. He spoke of the faculties of soul. Of the dark night of the soul. Of union with the soul and purification. He was eloquent. He knew he was eloquent. When he finished, The old man said, And who is the one who knows all this? I am. Sad as well. Then he stopped. Yes, Said the old man kindly. That one. That I am. He is very well rent. Ezra returned to his room and sat on the edge of his bed for a long time. He thought about the voice inside him that narrated everything. That watched his own preying and graded it. That watched his own humility and was proud of it. That had come up the mountain with three bags of books and a list of questions. Quietly, Confident, It would be found impressive. He had studied the ego. He had not yet noticed that the student was the ego. He stayed on in the mountains for a full year. He sent some of his books home after a month. And most more of them after six months. A few books he kept, He read differently this time. Not to possess the knowledge that was in them. More like listening for something he was yet to hear. On the last day, The old man embraced him and said, You came with a name for everything. And that is not so bad. But now perhaps you also know the silence that the names float around in. Ezra walked back down the mountain. The same man in most respects. But something in him had stopped announcing itself quite so loudly. And in that quiet. He found he could hear much, Much more than before.