The Priest’s Fall Into Balance
On an autumn morning, Father Brozka wandered intensely pondering why he had chosen Catholicism and how he actually had been ordained with authority and connections to the divine. As his thoughts turned in his mind in a confused frenzy, his white robe contrasted the dark awakening shadows of the woods.
Slowly, he seemed to becoming to understand the answers to his questions and tried with all his being to reach the point of total clarification, but instead Father Brozka tripped upon a rock that had been covered by an awakening shadow of the morning and fell into the deep dark narrow abyss of a well.
After a brief moment of moaning, Father Brozka tried to return to his thoughts but realized that he had lost his whole train of thought. He understands that he must not concentrate on the confusion in his head, but must tackle the current problem of getting out of the well.
Suddenly, a water droplet that had been resting on a crevice in front of Father Brozka, dazzles and captures a spec of white light that seems to illuminate the well. Up above, a young maiden named Cyble dressed in white silk knelt at the rock that had caused the fall of the priest.
After their introduction and the account of the fall was shared, the fair and gentle maiden muffled her mouth. For she had began to laugh. How silly was it for a priest to be stuck in a well because of his confusion on his place in society and his inquires on the divine. Cyble asked Father Brozka why he preferred his own thoughts to that of God’s creation, which surrounded him. Father Brozka was puzzled. Father Brozka replied, “ My thoughts are supposed to lead to God.â€
Cyble responded, “Misguided priest, how dreadful it must be to be you. You must understand that you are truly not above any individual but live in an illusion.â€
Father Brozka’s blood grows hot and flows fast. He cannot stand to have his reality be called an illusion. But as an unusually delicate breeze blows down into the well, his thoughts are jumbled. And his concentration is again disrupted by this disturbance. At realization of this, he feels the blood run through his veins and remains perturbed, but only for a moment. He contemplates his conceitedness, and replies, “ But what use am I to the world, if all have known than I am part of an illusion? Is God then an illusion too since you say that you can mediate for yourself?â€
Cyble saddened by the ignorance of the priest says,’ Father Brozka you are of no use to this world, the world where people who label your world an illusion. But in your present world, the world that you were contemplating or trying to reach, you are of much use. You feel exalted and powerful. And by this feeling, you do have authority and connections to the divine. But it is your false interest in my world and your obsession with yourself that has caused your fall into this well. The rock that you have tripped on was your mind. Your mind has caused you problems, it has led you to separation. You needed to dive into this well to experience the world where dependence is needed. It is through relationships that one thrives and is able to use their mind fully. Right before you had tripped, you were trying with all your being to reach clarification in your mind, but at the very moment you did so, trouble befell upon you. Father Brozka you must succumb yourself to balance and realize that your appointment as an authority figure is an illusion for the ignorant. But your importance and divine connections are vital. For they are unique, just as mine are. We who know, understand that dependence upon one another is necessary and separate authorities and people who claim to have divine connections are false. Will you accept the pure reality of dependence and realize that you must struggle to maintain balance? It is in your constant struggle for balance that will allow for the ignorant to look towards you for guidance, and we the Knowers will be shown in you and you in us because we are in union through our dependence. And thus, each of us will be connected with the divine.â€
Father Brozka, in tears but with muscles tense and ready for change, agrees, “You have uncovered what I was searching for in my mind. And in this evidence alone, I know that I must balance my total being. Dependence and union with fellow man will become my mantra. Our connections to the divine will radiate for fellow Knowers, and sadly, the ignorant will continue to believe in their illusions.â€
With her white silk clothes, Cyble fashions a rope. As the rope is lowered into the dark abyss of the well, the black abyss is illumined just as Brozka’s fingers clasp the silk. The garment is so pure that the light of the morning remained on the dewdrops of the silk and dazzling reflections lit the once dark well. And Brozka emerged from the dark hollow well into the morning light and balance was achieved.