Story 7 - Unity.
"Out of this competition for intimacy with a woman," he said, "driven by the force of a deeply underlying principle, the tango emerged as an art form. It became a unique and sexually enticing style of dancing. It is being said that the competition became so intense between the men, that the men could be seen dancing in the streets, practicing their steps, often alone or against each other, and everybody knew what it was for. Apparently there was no shame in it because the whole process was built around respect, honor, and affection."
He paused a minute, then he added, "this is partly why I couldn't see any validity in your statement that you are especially attracted to women, because respect, honor, and affection have nothing to do with sex."
He almost laughed. "The point is," said the man a while later, "that one cannot escape the reality of the underlying principle. One may ignore it, especially the deeper aspects of it, but one cannot get away from it. I also know that you are ignoring a vitally important element right now," he said to me. "You are lying to yourself about one of the deeper aspects of this principle."
We were half way across the Atlantic when he said this.
I assured him that I did not lie to myself.
"No, no, I can see it in your face," he said. "You are afraid of death as a reality. You are afraid that your friend might die in that hospital back home, and that you will never meet her again. If you believe this, you are lying against the very truth that you already know by now. If you could understand the validity of this truth, you would feel its reality as a powerful force in your life, possibly as powerful as the immigrants in Argentina had felt the underlying unity between men and women, and had brought this truth to bear onto their situation in whatever manner they could in order to experience it."
I nodded. I admitted that I was struggling with this fear. In spite the fact that Sylvia's operation was not as risky as other procedures are that invade critical areas, I couldn't help but fear for her life. She was not a strong woman, physically. This fear had welled up strongly in an ever recurring wave. Each time I had fought it back.
"Death is not a possibility," said the man. "Nothing can break the unity of God and man that embraces us all. Nothing will ever change this reality, because it is anchored in Truth. Life is an aspect of Truth. You shouldn't burden your friend with your fears about dying. You should acknowledge Life as the reality of your friend's being. No parting can occur that would contravene the unity of God and man."
"But people do die all the time," I countered him.
"Forget about time and space," said the man, "and explore the principle of timeless being and the inseparable oneness of God and man in which there is no parting or separation. This principle is imperative. No exceptions can occur that would reverse the fundamental principle of reality. People die only in the realm of belief. Even in the most ancient civilizations, people had gained a certain sense of that, especially so in Egypt. Except many have failed to realize that the oneness of all being that manifests itself as unity build on respect, honor, and affection, is not bound to time and space. It contains no physical elements by which it could be limited. People, unfortunately, don't allow themselves to experience that."
As I pondered these things, a great peace came over me that came from knowing that nothing would or could separate Sylvia and me, ever. Only this peace was quickly replaced with a new fear that suddenly reasserted itself. I remembered Helen's lateral lattice that represents mankind's universal oneness, a vast array of human hearts supporting one another in times of individual need. I tried to visualize it as Helen had visualized it during a time of crisis, to help her friend who was likewise struggling in hospital. But I couldn't feel its vitality. Suddenly it dawned on me that Sylvia's operation
would likely be already over at this point of our flight. At this moment I realized that a different fear was nagging me. It was the very fear for which I was on the way to Europe, on a mission designed to stop a nuclear war. I told the man why I had left Sylvia behind.