Taking Responsibility for My Voice

Honoring the sacred responsibility of being alive

I recently found my voice. I didn't expect it to destroy my life. But sometimes that is the way of things.

I’ve been running from the responsibility of having a voice and being able to listen. I’ve been hoping someone else would do it for me. But no one else can sing your song. You can’t give it away, even if you try. It is yours, and you are responsible for singing it.

I am the servant of my teachers and of those who sincerely want to learn. That is the song I was born to sing. To sing it, I have had to release every other thing.

A year ago, I came together in a home with my beloved and her son to form a family. It was by far the happiest year of my life.

But I lost my voice along the way. I lost sight of my mission and purpose and neglected my sacred responsibility to life.

As a result, I disrespected myself, I disrespected others, and I disrespected this precious opportunity for a human birth.

Hurricane Helene revealed all the cracks in the foundation of my life and home. Unreconciled differences came to be seen and known, and dialogue demonstrated that the prerequisites for reconciliation were absent.

To recover my voice, truth required me to take leave from the only home and family I have ever truly loved.

Over the past week I removed my belongings from our home and reduced them to one car load. The path is infinite, and all differences will ultimately be reconciled. But for now, we part ways in service to the good of all.

What are you unwilling to surrender for the good of all?

The path will ask you this time and again. It will entice you with allurement. It will reward you with your fondest dreams. Then it will ask you—will you surrender even this?

I have surrendered many things over the years. When I first went to sit with the medicine in the jungle, I wrote out my Will to prepare to die. I surrendered to the possibility that I might lay down and never get back up.

I did die - at least the parts of me that created the life I had been living. But this body remained, and it had to go back to the life it had created to take it apart and make it anew. In retrospect, physical death was wishful thinking, because it would have denied me the profoundly more important and difficult work of integration.

When I sold my law practice to join Parker at Bridge to One, I surrendered my attachment to my professional identity along with the known and knowable. When things fell apart, I was asked to release attachment to financial security as Parker and I set out to continue the work we started together.

Then when he passed away, I had to release attachment to having a brother on the path who helped hold me in truth when I lost sight of it.

He saw me and knew me before I truly knew myself. In his clear vision, I became Adama. In his absence, it has at times been difficult to find my way and know who I am.

When men with guns came to my door and threatened to lock me in a cage for practicing my faith, I was reminded of who I am. I defended myself but never stopped praying for the good of all— even for those who were persecuting me. I surrendered my attachment to freedom, and made peace with living in a cage if that was the cost of living in integrity with truth.

I won that battle. But it took its toll. I grew battle weary and tired. I began to pray for peace and home.

In the Creator’s infinite mercy, I was given those things. I got everything Zachary had ever desired in terms of partnership, home, and family. I got a job doing good work that was prestigious and well paying. I even gained a son.

But after a year of peace, rest, and domestic contentment, the limpia of Helene washed it all away.

As I left my home, my teachers came to me to remind me of my responsibilities. I was not given this life for myself, my pleasure, or comfort. I was given it to be useful to God, in service to others.

So I have traded the comforts of home for a monastic cell in a friend’s basement. Most of what remains of my personal belongings are the sacred items I have collected over the years for Ramaka Temple.

The work before me is clear, and I must be one pointed in its pursuit.

My voice, should you wish to hear it, is one of clarity, surrender, and self-discipline. My commitment, if you wish to undertake it, is to be of service to the good of all.

At the behest of my Kriya Yoga Gurus, I have been asked to enter the teaching phase of my life through the vehicle of Ramaka Kriya and to begin traveling for Satsangs to raise funds for the temple. I do this work in the spirit of the gift and invite anyone who would like to sponsor an event to reach out to me.

As for my bread and butter I am becoming a certified mediator and will offer consultations on entheogenic law and integration coaching through the business I started a year ago called Medicine Counsel.

The path goes on, as they say. It is infinite, so how could it be any other way? Another part of myself that sought comfort at the expense of truth has been burned away. I am Adama now if you see me. I’ll respond to Zachary if you forget, but don’t worry, I won’t take it personally. I know it is hard to know a person by a new name. But names are important. They can cause us to forget who we are or help us remember. I choose to remember, and would appreciate your help.