Excerpt: The Sacred Matrix
(Excerpt of the book: The Sacred Matrix by Dieter Duhm)
And forever the sacred stream flows forth
in subterranean darkness.
Sometimes its music sparkles from its depths.
He who hears it senses that a secret is near,
he sees it flee, and wants to grasp it,
he burns with a longing for home,
for he senses Beauty.
The Sacred Matrix is the matrix of life itself. It is present in the blossoming of a tree, in the scent of a flower, in the chirping of a bird, in the wallowing of a pig, and in the blowing of the wind. It is present in the depths of the oceans, in the folds of the mountains, in the river valleys, and on the mountaintops of eternal silence. It creates the structure of a crystal, a shell, or a dripstone cave. It brings forth the germination of grain, the division of cells, and the play of the galaxies. It sometimes peers out, pure and clear, through the eyes of a baby. Sometimes – in the most beautiful moments of love – it reaches our heart. It is then that we are transformed for a brief eternity and we know the goal of our journey.
We humans have a fine sense for the Sacred Matrix, and we feel it in many things. We let ourselves be touched by it in quiet spots, and we seek out certain places to be close to it. There are special sounds in the winds of the soul that touch us when we revisit the places of our childhood, when we sit at the shore of a lake that is as smooth as glass, when we watch the swells of the ocean as the sun is setting, or when we see the dewdrops sparkling in the morning. Here, very little has changed over the generations. People still climb to solitary heights to watch the sun rise from a mountain ledge, and they still look up at the stars at night and connect with eternity. It is in the connection itself that the sacred is revealed. People visit churches, breathe the sacred air, hear the tones of the organs, and enter into resonance with the Sacred Matrix.
Already as a child I sniffed at the apple blossoms and tried to find out what kind of bliss this scent reminded me of. I experienced the same thing again much later when I worked in an orange plantation in Corsica. There was something deeply familiar about this scent, and something infinitely beautiful. It was like the anticipation of a life that encompasses all of our longings, all fibers of our soul, and all our human desires. My soul knew of this life, and it tried to find it again from within. It tried to recognize it as precisely as possible and, wherever possible, to realize it. Many people have had such experiences, but only a few have had the opportunity to follow them. What is here both hidden and revealed is not only a dream or a yearning. It is a reality, the reality of the Sacred Matrix. We would not have this yearning, hear this sound of the sirens in our soul, or have this irrefutable feeling of a deep memory, if this reality did not exist.
The Sacred Matrix is the original, trans-historical, non-alienated, cosmic, and divine matrix of universal life. According to the plan of Creation for the human being, we are to realize it on earth. It appeared to us when we were children and when the candles were lit on the Christmas tree, it filled us with the bliss of first love, and it sometimes crossed our path at the edge of death. We can never leave it entirely, for we are born of it. We have gone through eons with it, and again and again we have seen it light up at the roadside and the fences of our territory. We met it in the beyond and we reconnected with it, so that we would never forget it again when we returned to Earth. Yet we always forgot it, and we have become so accustomed to forgetting that it now seems only a distant dream to us. But will not this earthly life that we are living here and now, and that seems so absolutely real, one day, when we return to the beyond, also seem like an unreal dream? Has not the game with the many different realities become so familiar to us that we can no longer see dreams as being only dreams? It is not a dream, but a deep, deep memory that wells up inside of us when we touch the Sacred, and this memory keeps re-creating our yearning. For the sake of truth we cannot but find and follow the content of this yearning in its entirety, for the yearning that is recognized and not suppressed or sentimentalized is the signpost that leads us to our sacred home. (...)