In those days, very long, very long ago, the children gathered in a circle to listen to the wisdom of the village sage. They asked the magic man, the shaman, “tell us dear father, tell us of the Miracle Circle.” The story had been told many times to the children, yet they still loved to hear the story of the circle. While some did forget, most would remember, and all loved hearing the story of the Miracle Circle.
The teacher would begin with a tale of the gathering. “The gathering” the teacher would explain, “the gathering unites the power of the many with the power of One.” “And of the circle father?” the children would ask. “Please tell us of the circle.” “Ah ha!”, exclaimed the sage, “the power of the many into the power of One is contained within the Miracle Circle.” The children were delighted! There were so many stories to be told.
The Miracle Circle contained the beginning, no one could remember quite how long ago that was. But they all remembered the secret. The secret of belonging. The secret of belonging was the essence of gathering. Belonging was the essence of the miracle itself. All that is, was, and will be was at the center of the circle. And all the men, women, and children were a part of the circle. They all knew they were a part of the circle. But the veil of forgetfulness would blind memory and some would succumb to feeling apart. Apart from the circle, not remembering that they are the circle, that they are a part of all that is within the Miracle Circle.
Forgetting caused the ancients to war. Forgetting caused the lost to go without. Forgetting caused blindness in the world. The mystic would say “if we are not a part of the whole, we suffer from feeling apart from the whole, then we risk falling into the hole.” He continued, “one finds peace as a piece of the Miracle Circle. One is at ease as part of this eternal circle, but absence of miracle is cause for disease. The truth speaker is truth seeker who has knowledge of belonging. Belonging is fulfillment, contentment, enlightenment, and the love of One.”
Deep down we all know of the gathering, of belonging. We all remember what it is to be One. We all play a game of separation from behind the veil of forgetting. Many of us brought souvenirs from the One and bought souvenirs to return to the One. “Memories and souvenirs” the sage would state, “memories and souvenirs.” “In the end all we have is memories and souvenirs”. “And the Miracle Circle!”, the children would shout with glee, “and the Miracle Circle!”
“Yes, yes children, why of course, and the Miracle Circle”, the sage would say. “The mystery of alchemy, the magical wheel, the way of the wizard, the process of transformation, the all that is the is in is-ness, is the Miracle Circle. That’s what allows us to begin again, the Miracle Circle. That is what we all belong to, the Miracle Circle. And in the end that is all there is. Memories, souvenirs, and the circle. Memories, Souvenirs, and the Miracle Circle.”
The children all stood at once and joined hands. They spun round and round, a merry-go-round, as the sage remained seated in the center. The children sang aloud, “hosanna, hosanna, hosanna, ho, around and around and around we go. The Father, the Mother, the Son all belong, we of the gathering sing a love song. The circle unbroken we all are a part, the circle unbroken that’s where we start.” “Amen” said the magic man. “Amen” said the shaman. And the children all joined in “Amen, Amen, Amen!”
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