An Affaire with God

By Guillermo Torres

An Affaire with God, a commentary from a reader: Reynaldo Pareja I have finished reading your book, An Affaire with God. I will qualify it more like a wrestling match where the rules were established by the respect and the sincerity between you and the Creator. At the end, both attained victory but this outcome was the result of mainly your effort. What a powerful recount you made of what I would consider a titanic trek through the labyrinths of the spirit until you found an anchor, a firm rock, a point of Certainty where the search finally came to an end and the longing ceased. Congratulations. There are not many of us willing to attempt taking the inner path in such a consistent and meticulous manner with such honesty and depth. Many are willing to start the quest, though only a few get to the end, and even fewer are able to find answers to their questions. This happened because they got tired along the way and did throw the towel, yielding when confronted with the many hard tasks to undertake along the journey. Frequently, they became disillusioned and concluded that the sought end of the quest did not justify the effort to be exerted.

I never got the impression that through the quest you ever contemplated giving up the search. You always followed your intuitions signals, which were clear and at the same time difficult to read. At no time, did I perceive that you were about to abandon the struggle or the effort that may bring you to the discovery of that unmovable Rock of Gibraltar; that inner place which would open the door to the other dimension: the transcendent world. That world that manifests itself as a continuous state of mind brightening your path, with an ever expanding light, that is bringing you closer to the Source. It is that focal point that illuminates all existence and provides meaning and orientation to everything. It is the primeval essence that permeates all with His own substance because He is the foundation of all.

I found in your writings a new freshness; a new vigor of a way to feel and experience God in a direct manner through everything He has given us to communicate with Him: our intuitive and reflexive capacity; our introspection capacity; our analytical capacity; the capacity to feel the Divine presence in a direct manner, directly manifested in that site where our own divine presence resides. Only a few (very few), are able to attain this perception throughout a lifetime. It is a present, a gift from the Universe. It was given by God to whom you can be thankful for and continue enjoying every single day. Of this attainment, you will never get tired or be able to exhaust the flow that connects you with the Transcendent One, with the All, with the Omnipresent. Your way for finding God has been traversed by some. It is the path headed toward illumination. Even though it is different to those followed by the majority, it will bring you to the same destination provided by other valid means: To attain Gods inner experience. Nevertheless, what differentiates your approach from others is that, along the way, you got rid of all attachments received by you as an inculcated inheritance. You disowned any concept or image that was a part of previous indoctrination in order to start afresh an inner dialog, searching through experiences rather than concepts; direct experience instead of dogma; introspection instead of analysis. You have arrived to a degree of firmness and certainty that, without a doubt, there is nothing that could take away your direct and personal experience. Blessed are those that without seeing, understand; that without hearing, listen; that by searching, find; those that by knocking, get the door of the heart and the understanding, open.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 9, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453551578

Guillermo Torres

Guillermo Torres, born in Bogota, Colombia. In 2005, he published a book, A Elvira, Cartas y Poemas-To Elvira, Letters and Poems. A series of writings he dedicated to his late wife, in particular when she started her enriched journey back to the Father’s home. Later in 2007, he published a second book in Spanish, De La Oscuridad A La Penumbra—Itinerario De Un Alma (From Darkness to Penumbra—The Journey OF A Soul, that today, became this An Affaire with GOD.

Book preview

ENCOUNTERING THE BEAST

This is a commentary prompted by two poems that were written early in my life and that have caused some controversy: Guerrilla Fighter and Questions. These poems are presented on the ensuing pages as a forceful attempt to bring forward, at the very beginning of the book, the dark nature of the human species. Some have told me that the underlying idea in these poems is not politically correct. Others feel that they are out of context, since they dramatically clash with the overall theme of the thoughts expressed in subsequent chapters, and therefore, should not be part of these writings. The issue of violence is not elegantly portrayed here. It is brought into context in very blunt, crude terms.

However, this book does not follow conventional rules. As I point out later, this is a series of untouched snapshots which bare my inner reality without embellishment.

During my childhood, I saw life springing forth out of love. That’s what my parents showed me. Everything and everyone was good in the innocent eyes of that child. One day, perhaps when I became old enough, an unknown monster suddenly appeared: violence. The shock caused by that harsh reality, catapulted me into a sea of doubt where my notion of a world born out of love has vanished. I was now witnessing—through my adolescent eyes—a universe where everything was inundated by violence.

I saw how, in order to survive, wild cats have to kill an innocent prey that inevitably dies in anguish, suffering and pain. I saw human beings outwitting the felines with their more efficient slaughterhouses and butcheries.

I sensed that our planet, in order to offset the imbalance of its forces, has generated countless catastrophes where love and compassion are nowhere to be found.

I saw mankind in search of excuses for indulging in violence and experiencing the morbid pleasure of torturing and killing. It is worthwhile asking: Is man always responsible for this evil? That’s what I was taught as a child. However, modern science seems to indicate otherwise. It is posited that there are those who are carrying, in the deepest recesses of their genetic structure, something resembling the mark of the beast, which expresses itself as an innate instinct that uncontrollably predisposes those bearing that stigma, to commit heinous crimes and indescribable acts of cruelty and violence. If this were true, would free-will play any role in these cases?

To what extent is our psychological make-up inexorably influenced by intrinsic features in the molecular structure of any given physical organism, capable of automatically generating impulses that our will is unable to successfully quell? Such predisposition, in itself, would be inherent to our initial programming that we acquire at the moment of our conception. To what extent are the saint and the sinner the result of a given genetic structure?

This scenario has only caused me to enter into a state of great perplexity. If all of this is real, how can true justice be imparted by applying the rudimentary methods that legal systems currently wield? How much of our being aims to what is lofty and noble and how much gravitates towards that dark and bottomless pit that has always led mankind to war and violence? These are questions that no one in this world can answer to any degree of certainty. We are only left with humility as our refuge, so that we may accept our powerlessness vis-à-vis that which is beyond us and which makes us realize that we live in a world of duality—where good and evil coexist as inseparable building blocks of the Supreme Good. Perhaps Jesus, in all his simplicity, gave us an answer with respect to human justice when he said, Who has the authority, among men, to cast the first stone?

I saw that contrary to what I had learned about love, violence and cruelty have always been—since times immemorial—the inheritance of nature as a whole and the legacy of man who has enriched it, and perfected it by creating his weapons and instruments of torture. The arsenal will inevitably continue to expand, reaching increasingly greater levels of cruelty, efficiency and destructive capacity, while the leaders in power—by perpetrating these ghastly horrors—become intoxicated with power.

These poems, then, describe specific episodes that influenced me as a teenager. They became the instruments that left a mark on my conscience, like a hot iron rod, of a new reality: that of man’s violence against his own surroundings and his own species.

I am profoundly distressed when I realize that all of us have a part in this condition: possessing the innate capacity to commit acts of violence.

As I mention it in another part of this book[1], violence coexists in man with natural tendencies towards good. We cannot escape the condition of existing in a world of duality.

All that is needed is for the right circumstance to arise for even the holy man to turn violent. All we need is an excuse, a justification, a motivation. No one is free from violence; we all have the potential for it to erupt in an instant.

Subliminally, these poems (which should not be mistaken for accusations aimed at specific populations, but rather as metaphors), represent figures and events that were an integral part of my early years: Hitler, Stalin, Mao, nuclear weapons, the Vietnam War and the endless list of atrocities committed by the heroes of humanity, who, in their desire to achieve their ends, have taught us to obey, in order to turn us into soldiers of relentless armies, and then send us to war which, in reality, only generates pestilence, death and suffering.

In war, there are no winners, only victims and the subsequent expectation of a new war. No one can build a healthy society over the ashes left by violence. The consequences of the resulting hatred generated in the loser, in addition to the pride, arrogance and cruelty of the winner, do not constitute a fertile ground for love and understanding to spring forth between both sides.

War inevitably leads to vengeance and retaliation and spawns the seed of new conflict. It could be said without exaggeration, that this vicious cycle depicts the history of humanity.

As far as we know, our leaders have never relented; they have never allowed anyone to enjoy a moment of real peace. Perhaps Gandhi has been the only one who taught us differently during modern political history. He, like Jesus, was also a victim of our violence.

I could not have omitted these verses from this book without ignoring, albeit symbolically, the fundamental reality that I once discovered, which has helped to forge my own identity and lead me through the unfinished quest of the transcendental, through this Affaire with GOD.

The Author

GUERRILLA FIGHTER

Conceived in poverty,

raised in violence,

don’t expect him to be meek.

From a young age,

he saw a world engulfed in flames,

and he saw many die

both innocent and defenseless,

without a fight and without weapons,

in the hands of other men,

who came from other places,

armed and horrific.

He saw his mother die

—raped and tortured—

when she was with child.

He saw his father die

—humiliated and tortured.

In addition to his brothers.

And, Juan, his best friend,

who when-only-seven-

was hung from a tree

and mutilated there,

in a macabre game,

in front of his parents.

Don’t expect him to be meek . . .

Crouching behind the bushes

paralyzed by pain and fear,

he was not discovered.

And there he remained,

until his whole house turned to ashes,

and the armed men,

amid Dantesque laughter,

left the place.

Don’t expect him to be meek . . .

Without parents, with no family,

wandering through the fields,

he only learned about crime,

he only learned to become tough,

and he became ruthless as well.

No one spoke to him about good,

only about violence.

Not a single act of tenderness,

did anyone show him.

He encountered others

who were also victims

of that foreign violence,

who had come from other lands

when they were just boys,

and then they joined in together.

Don’t expect them to be meek . . .

In the beginning,

they were nameless outlaws

and, later, with the passing of time,

manipulated by unknown experts,

they joined the ranks of a strong,

subversive and violent army,

driven from the outside,

pushed by those who had killed their parents

when they were but children.

Don’t expect them to be meek . . .

Today, he is chief among chiefs, but

he, himself, doesn’t know that

those who killed his parents

and violated his land,

are also manipulating him,

and today he is a pawn

being used for unknown purposes,

for which he is willing to die.

Meanwhile . . .

Don’t expect him to be meek . . .

It is an uncontainable force,

it is an unrestrained fight,

that is manipulated by others,

strangers to his homeland.

QUESTIONS

A dog in pain,

licking his wounds.

A ragged beggar,

counting his take.

A sick person,

abandoned at the doors of the temple,

covered in dirt,

bathed in his own excrement,

suffering in lonely agony,

enduring his pain alone.

Meanwhile,

the joyful

church bells,

earnestly sing praises

to the Creator’s love.

Further afield,

behind the mountains,

death and violence

reign supreme,

and terror bathes the land,

the mountains and the valleys,

and the blackened rubble

of scorched huts,

are the silent witnesses

of what love is not.

The questions filter in,

the mind questions itself.

Who allowed this pain?

Who made it a reality?

Who made it universal?

I look at the world again,

and it never stops;

indifferent an cold,

it runs its course.

Then,

who holds the power in his hands,

of forging on earth

the very structure

of pain?

Man lives in the midst of it,

he did not create himself,

and he did not create the world.

Who, then, advocated pain,

as the basis and foundation

of this land of horrors?

Who saw justice in this?

who created the subterfuge

that the world is love,

and that love is freedom?

No one can escape,

neither the saint nor the profane,

from the burning clutches

of suffering and death.

In what unknown worlds or spheres

is love hiding?

what about freedom?

The crucifix itself,

is the terrible image

that molds into its creases

all that is pain,

violence and disdain,

for He who has tried,

in a vain attempt

—in a supreme act—

to give us His peace.

TO UNLEARN IS TO GAIN FREEDOM

September 20, 2006

I desperately searched everywhere; I needed to know, I needed to experience reality on my own. For a long time, I was empty on the inside due to the inner turmoil, caused by the ideas and philosophies of others. I could not find anything I could call my own; nothing that would shine with its own light within me. I found myself in the position of having to break away from past beliefs and starting anew.

I was no longer looking within the traditional realm. Instead, I was attempting to make contact with my inner world, where my only resource was my own perception—that inner space which is found beyond the intellectual clutter of the mind. Whenever I tried to reach for that place inside of me, I felt like a child looking inside a toy store from the window; I could only wish and hope, but nothing more. I realized that I first had to work hard at building the inner path towards freedom.

When my inner paralysis reached its zenith and I found myself facing a barren horizon devoid of my own truth, I felt like I was carrying a load that was becoming too heavy and was weighing me down. I was assailed with an enormous battery of conflicting, differing philosophies that were foreign to me and which would not let the light of reality shine through. The only way out for me was to accept what preachers proposed: the path of belief and faith. However, given my nature, faith and belief were not paths I could embark upon.

Then, in a desperate attempt to avoid sinking deeper, I started to jettison anything that could lighten my load, so that I could remain afloat. First, I discarded everything I had acquired in nearby ports; things I hadn’t yet incorporated into my world. With a struggle, I disposed of dogmas that had been created by some of my school teachers regarding Jesus, Plato and Freud, that paradoxically were pulling me in different directions. While those who eloquently spoke to me about Jesus, preached total chastity under penalty of eternal condemnation in hell, Freud’s followers extolled complete, unrestricted sexual freedom as the only path towards achieving balance. It should be said, however, that neither the teachers nor I could ever comprehend the deepness and greatness of those minds.

The examination of the structure of materialistic science (which at the time seemed to be the only window towards truth), was my next major undertaking. However, that was only a small fraction of the cargo I was carrying. Still, deeply rooted inside of my psychic structure was everything that had been planted in me—almost subliminally—during my childhood and teenage years. That was as far as I could go, a place I could not reach, haunted by an ominous barrier obstructing my path.

The specter of dogma, the power of an institution, its threats, and fear of punishment, seemed mightier than the scant resources of my soul. All of that had become embedded in the deepest recesses of my subconscious mind; the door to which had been tightly sealed with the lock of repression. There was a guard there; it was like the angel who has been watching over the gates of Heaven since the fall of Adam.

Walking silently, I finally reached a completely unknown place. I discovered a new way of continuing my search. Until then, I had spent my whole life trying to learn something, trying to grasp truth through the knowledge of others and clinging to different sources of external knowledge. But none of that provided me with the answers I was looking for.

Then, feeling weary and disillusioned, I took to the task of unlearning what I had acquired along the way. By doing this, and very gradually, I began to understand truth, not in all of its greatness, but rather, through the realization of my limitations. I have become aware of my own limitations and I’ve come to realize that no created being—man, angel or demon—could ever completely enter into the realm of the infinite and the eternal. I surmised that dogmas have little to do with truth. I seemed to understand that they are created elements designed to exert power over others, instead of being a beacon along the way.

Today, I have some peace, much more than what I had when I started to unload my excess baggage. After having done much cleaning, whenever I take a look at my inner realm, I find it more peaceful, less cluttered and full of open spaces. That is where my own perception begins to appear; a perception that belongs only to me, which cannot be shared with others, except for in its broadest aspects. It is as if I have found perfect communion between God and me, free from artificial trappings, without any rites, without words, where separation between Him and me no longer exists. No matter how brief that encounter may have been, nothing could ever be a substitute for it.

It is the realization of not being alone inside of a blind and indifferent cosmos. It is the awareness that everything that exists is not the sum total of many unrelated, separate things, but rather the expression of the Divine Essence, of that single substance which expresses itself in the world of shapes. That eternal Substance could be compared to the ocean, where waves do not exist independently from the source that gave birth to them. Only Unity exists in this world of diversity.

I find comfort in the feeling that I am one with the All, and in the perception that this basic Substance is the very essence of my being. Inside the apparent chaos, I see an underlying order. For me, it is no longer a matter of existing within a given reality that rose from mere probabilities, as atheists would affirm. I see clearly that we are part of an Intelligent Something and that we are not the product of chance. I have sprung from that Source, which is infinitely intelligent and all-knowing and to which, I am certain, I will return.

This is my truth; however, I don’t cling to this perception as if it were a dogma or a postulate of faith which can lead to fanaticism. I simply contemplate it and enjoy its beauty; I admire it in the same way I would admire a sunset