Today's blogpost will take us into one of Journeyman Paul's most recent past lives. Sometime in the early 20th Century Paul was being hosted by a male body living in the tropical jungle regions just at the southern edge of the Sahara Desert. "Rahmi" was born into what we would call a fairly "primitive" family, that is, he was born into a pre-industrialized, subsistence society. One of several siblings, Rahmi's family lived a hunter-gatherer life among a fairly small semi-nomadic tribe of about 24 souls. Rahmi's tribe would move seasonally from dwelling site to dwelling site in rhythm with the seasonal weather patterns which, of course, dictated the availability of food.
Rahmi's ancestors had established a time-honored circuit through some very treacherous terraine--partly as a way to keep it their own, partly for the sake of making it difficult for others to follow or want to move into their "turf." They chose to occupy some of the most isolated and cut-off from the rest of the world canyon valleys and sheer-faced rock caves. And still intruders found their way in. Defensive fighting was something that Rahmi's small band of tribesmen had never mastered. They had purposely chosen not to give attention to warfare and all the work that goes with it. Instead, Rahmi's tribe believed that they were merely integral parts of the whole jungle, part of the circle of life, neither outside nor above it. They had consciously chosen more of a "within nature" approach/attitude--what author Daniel Quinn calls "leaver" mentality instead of "taker" mentally. This attitude translated into meeker, more detached behaviors. They were much more accepting of the things that happened to them as they knew that such trials and tribulations fall upon all of Nature.
The dwelling sites in each of the tribe's seasonal stopping points were made up of several family homes constructed primarily of bamboo. The stilted huts were fairly sturdy with doors and windows merely open framed and the walls using bamboo lashed together in vertical formation in rows of singular thickness. The dwellings had fairly thick roofs made from reeds, grasses, and fronds which protected them from the heavy rains. The huts were built with the intention of lasting for years which meant that while the tribe was in residence they were under constant repair and maintenance. Interestingly, the structures were set up off of the jungle floor--usually from about four to six feet high. This was done as a protection against the flow of rainwater that would occasionally flood throughout the small pocket valleys that Rahmi's tribe chose to travel and occupy. The stilted huts also served as a means to discourage attacks from both animals and other humans.
Unfortunately, in Rahmi's world, it was this later aspect of their nomadic, foraging life that occupied most of the tribe members' minds. Raids and kidnappings from other more aggressive tribes were all too frequent and seemed to be only increasing in recent years. Much to Rahmi's frustration, it seemed that his tribe was never prepared, or at least never equipped well enough to defend themselves. The invading tribes were always more aggressive and willing to commit more violent acts in order to get their way. The emotional and physical toll that this state of living as prey to others played on Rahmi's family and village was so exhausting that his family eventually chose to leave the jungle.
Not far from the circuitous jungle paths travelled by his ancestors for more generations than anyone could count, at the very northern edge of the jungle, where the vast deserts of the Sahara began, lay a village where Rahmi's family decided to settle. Though they were at first lowest of the low on the social ladder, the hard working, humble family was eventually able to rise into mainstream social status. Rahmi's family's skills and ethics very quickly earned them enough respect from the other townspeople that fortuitous marriages were eventually made for his hard-working, resourceful sisters.
Rahmi himself so loved the jungle, so identified with his place within the jungle, that he alone of his family chose to remain when everyone else made the choice to move to the "city" at the edge of the desert. From a very early age it was obvious that Rahmi possessed many of the gifts and skills necessary for jungle survival. Around the age of ten he became accepted and relied upon as the tribe's principle scout and trail master. Such skills would have eventually placed him in line for some high regard and even leadership roles within his native jungle society--if his family had remained jungle nomads.
At first Rahmi would climb into high perches in the trees at the edge of the jungle where he could look down into the city. He would spend hours watching the activity in the sand- and mud-walled city, studying the people and their strange ways--always on the lookout for one of his family members. From what he could see, the people there seemed to have much more specialized roles and skills assigned to them. He couldn't help but notice how the townspeople seemed to trudge around the streets open spaces with such lack of joy or satisfaction. This worried him. He worried for his family.
At night Rahmi would sneak into the town and leave gifts of jungle items that he knew were treasured: fruit and nut "delicacies," big leaves that were used for wrapping, baskets woven from palm fronds, tree saps which were valued for their aid in cooking as well as for glues and medicinal salves, as well as favorite herbs that the townsfolk valued but were too afraid to venture into the jungle for. His gifts were always taken and used but he was never acknowledged, never praised or rewarded. The prevailing and dominant attitudes of the city-dwellers determined that anything coming from the jungle was evil, dangerous and to be feared. Therefore, Rahmi was shunned. He was treated as an outcast. And Rahmi took this treatment willingly--almost gladly. He knew that the "city" life was not for him--that the jungle was where he was most comfortable. Plus, he never gave up hope that some of his family would become frustrated with the rigors and boredom of city routines and choose to return to their jungle home.
So, Rahmi continued his jungle ways, traveling the jungle paths that his people had travelled for centuries, maintaining the trails and the stilt-built reed-huts despite the insidious ravages and challenges of an ever encroaching Mother Nature. He did all this willingly, dutifully, and, if someone were to have watched him, rather joyfully. The jungle was as much a part of him as was his hair and legs or his breath.
Where Journeyman Paul has found growth in the experience of serving an incarnation as Rahmi is in once again serving a lowly rung of human society--which Paul had thought he deserved from previous "failures" within normal or privileged cultural groups. Isolation, ostracization, solitude, living day-to-day and hand-to-mouth all fit the profile of the soul that feels that it deserves to suffer, of one who believes that they cannot possibly be an accepted member of society because s/he is not working as successfully as others. Where Paul was able to feel growth and progress through his use of the Rahmi vehicle was in the way that he was able to re-discover Joy through the joy that Rahmi felt and remained true to in his beloved jungle life: in the procurement and delivery of his clandestine gifts to the desert town, in his survival and foraging skills in the jungle, in the fact that he caused no direct harm or hurt upon other humans--even supposed enemies (as he had in his lives as French priests), in the fact that his family never really rejected him--though they always felt sorry and worry for him in his solitary choices.
Rahmi never married or partnered with other humans. This is a pattern that Paul's incarnations sometimes fall into due to the hurts and scars he carries from what he regards as failing in previous lifetimes. Perhaps the disappointments of his lifetimes as the Mediterranean mufti the complications of family life that led to his suicide and shame as Moriku, or the joys of spiritual accomplishment achieved as Chu-tsing and in so many other monastic lifetimes created this common tendency in Paul.
Though raised within a tribe that called themselves Muslim, Rahmi's tribe of origin was in truth more animistic in nature. Their Muslim allegiance served more as a thin veil that enabled them protection (from) and, later, inclusion among the nearby desert townspeople--who were overtly and devoutly Muslim. However, as the outcast outsider he was slightly removed from human religions as a whole--or at least a keen observer of the Muslim culture as well as of the "civilized" lifestyles of urban life choices. Thus, Paul's life as Rahmi served his desire to distance himself from religious orientations and dogma. As a matter of fact, I can recall many a time in which as Rahmi I watched from the trees of the jungle at the edge of the desert, looking down upon the small walled "city" my family had chosen to matriculate into, wondering at the choices being made by the miserable-looking people and exalting in my freedom, my self-sufficience, the color in my world (the jungle world was very green and lush; the town at the edge of the barren, sandy desert was drab-tan-brown--which is, in and of itself, a brilliant metaphor for the choices we humans make.)
The healing that Journeyman Paul was able to feel through the experience and processing of the experiences of life as Rahmi enabled him to return to the Spirit World with recovered wholeness, with less recriminations and guilt. Paul's experience in the Spirit World after his Rahmi life was lighter, happier, and social. Done was he with his self-imposed, self-created Purgatory world, he was finally ready and able to return to and revel among his beloved and loving Spirit Companions. And then he was ready to prepare for his next lifetime, the current Drew Fisher incarnation.
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