A Bird Told Us Truth

© 2003 Judith Leigh Bailey

'Truth is that which is so
That which is not Truth is not so
Therefore Truth is all that is.’


It was one of our early ‘classes’ with D-- whereby we would see, hear, feel and absorb New Information.

But I am not making myself clear, so I must begin at the beginning.

This night, D-- was using the I AM syllogism to explain what Jesus actually did when he turned water into wine and how that simple Truth was twisted into being remembered as a magic trick.

D--’s point, of course, to us was: DON’T you miss the point either. Which of course, we did.

I must interject here, for clarity, that this part of the story is from MY point of view, with or without actual Truth being involved. I will leave that to my reader to determine what is truth.

Please know this: the Lazarus event had always intrigued me. Yet, when I’d first read about it as a young girl, it went right into the same category in my mind/worldview where I’d placed Mother Goose and Hans Christian Anderson, among numerous others.

That is, in my old worldview, the stories were very interesting to think about, but not REAL. Turning water into wine, raising the dead—all that was not real; none of it happened in the REAL world... but these classes with D-- had been teaching me how to BE real.

Without thinking, I interrupted the class with my question:

“What about Lazarus? Which was the Truth—that he was dead or that he was alive?”

D-- has a way of looking at a student as though he were seeing a bug on a pin under magnification: nothing can hide.

“What about Lazarus? What exactly are you asking?” His eyes did not waver; he was looking at me, expecting a clear response.

Desperate, my mind showed a fuzzy picture of Lazarus, flesh dripping from his limbs, rising out of his death state; this was how I’d always seen it in my mind’s eye.

I mean, dead people are not pleasant to see or smell after a few days in a crypt. Who would want life in that state, anyway? Sitting there in front of D--, I wanted to come around to the idea that Lazarus might be returned to his alive status looking much better than he’d looked
before he died in the first place. I wanted to believe it, but my disbelief was stronger.

“Well, Lazarus, you know: I mean, he DIED! How can this syllogism show me what Jesus did?”

You have to admit D-- is good: he never groans over having to repeat himself. Slowly, he said, “How do you know Lazarus was dead? Or that he was ever alive, for that matter…”

Adam, quiet until now but always quick to grab the teacher’s apple, spoke up. “Death is only an illusion.”

Irritated, I scowled at Adam. “Well, that’s all well and good, but it does not fit this situation.” I’d kept one eye on D--, watching for his reaction to our exchange. He was nodding at Adam, approving.

Mentally I groaned: Adam appeared to have an understanding that was missing in my mind; an intolerable situation, though I knew I was holding an attitude that held Truth miles away from me.

Knowing my attitude about the entire situation needed to change, probably immediately, still I whined. It just was not fair, I thought; Adam did only the barest reading or study of the stuff D-- had given us—while I had studied most diligently, plus there were all those years of study behind me-- I knew I knew more than Adam. But somehow it wasn’t coming out that way, here in the class.

That’s my Scorpio aspect giving the dark side of this story. But there’s another me that keeps waving warning flags, trying to help, to avoid mental pitfalls such as the one I’d just fallen into.

I’d been judging my Self for not understanding the concept, and especially for not understanding more quickly than Adam.

“You are both getting off the issue, here!” D--’s voice was sharp; he was calling us back to class.

“Say the syllogism with me, Judith, Adam. Don’t try to understand it, just say it with me.” His voice was soft. Letting go of the competition with Adam, I closed my eyes, chanting.

“Truth .. is .. that .. which .. is .. so .. –
That .. which .. is .. not .. truth .. is .. not .. so ..”

This part always seems very clear to me, or at least I thought so at the time. Now I understand that one must always be filled with the understanding, else the not-so-true things would begin to fill up the mind with weeds of thought, preventing Truth from flowering.

My writer self cannot keep from writing just like that! Pretty words, but words that are not truth, only a hiding of the truth. But I’m getting ahead of my story. You remember, D-- and I and Adam were speaking the words of the syllogism:

“Truth .. is .. that .. which .. is .. so .. –
That .. which is .. not .. truth .. is .. not .. so –
Therefore .. Truth .. is .. all .. that .. is.”

This is the part where I have to visualize the words, placing them on my mind’s picture palette like a simple arithmetic problem. One plus one equals two. Truth is that which is so: one. That which is not truth is not so: minus one.

Happy with my image, I mentally drew a neat line beneath the numbers. The answer appeared immediately: one. “Therefore Truth is all that is: Two!”, sang the rest of my mind’s dialog.

Two! Not two. One minus one equals zero. Zero cannot be Truth, because how can Nothing be also truth?

Though my mind was chewing through this by now familiar train of thought, I’d learned enough to know –and trust—that D-- would not give me the answer, but would instead lead me into an understanding of it, if I would listen carefully to him.

I like to call it truthful listening: it means I am not thinking about something else while he speaks; I am hearing his words, allowing understanding to flow from him to me. Chastened, I let the words flow through me, not thinking of anything for a change.

Right now he was not looking at me or Adam, but had become his IAM self; he was crooning it into the air, spacing between tones, shaping the form into a Presence.

“Truth .. is .. that .. which .. is .. so .. –
That .. which is .. not .. truth .. is .. not .. so –
Therefore .. Truth .. is .. all .. that .. is.”

Lazarus! I’d nearly forgotten the problem of Lazarus. My mind’s picture of his body in death came onto screen; I peered carefully, looking to see if Lazarus appeared more or less lifelike after Jesus spoke his words.

“You are not who you think you are.” D--’s sudden words dropped like a stone into my mind’s eye picture of Lazarus. The picture rippled, disappeared.

“You are much more than what you think you are, much more. That is Truth!

“ You are alive, you think, right now. Yet you are much more than you think you are.

“You will die one day, but you will be much more than you think you are; you are beyond even the concept of death. It is only a spot on the map of your existence, your being, your IAM.

“Jesus merely pointed out to his students this concept when he raised Lazarus from the seeming ‘dead’. Since he was more than ‘merely’ a man, Lazarus, being neither alive nor dead was the Truth, and if it would not be Truth, then it would not be so.”

D-- paused, looking at us closely, finishing slowly, “Therefore Truth is all that is”.

Adam and I smiled at each other, finally in tune, knowing that Truth had flowed from our teacher to us this day.

“Life –-living— is all illusion,” said Adam again. And for once, I agreed fully, thinking our understanding of the concept to be complete.

And so it was with joy and happiness that we bid our D-- good evening, with class to be continued tomorrow.


The next part of this story is going to have to be told second-hand, although Adam will edit, to be certain that all details are told exactly as they happened to him.

Right now I’m going to write the bare bones of the events as I understand them. He can fill in the details later.

Adam became aware he had a situation when he saw the calico cat, Kali, come through her little swinging door into the hallway, heading for the big bedroom. She was giving her hunting sound, a purr deep in the throat.

“Look at me!”, she roared.

“I am the mighty huntress.
I have hunted well.
I have brought home a creature to be killed and eaten.
It is good because it is so.
And I am most beautiful, besides, purr-rr-rr.”

I probably added a couple extra words of monolog in there, but I like them: they will stay. She is very proud, and likes to brag, plus she likes the way she attracts attention. I’m quite certain she was saying something very close to what is written.

Adam had heard bird distress sounds out in the yard, moments before. He saw her come through the hallway... was it a bird in Kali’s mouth? He followed her into the bedroom. “Here, Kali-Kali, show me what you have.” He knows she can’t resist showing off and will not resist him. Kali sidles over, always eager for praise.

He stooped down to look. Sure enough he could see a tiny bird all limp in Kali’s mouth. He held his hand down to her. “Here, sweet Kali, let me see what you have brought home.”

When Kali gave him the tiny creature, he cupped his other hand over the inert form; he could feel a wild flutter from within it. Moving his voice into a wordless croon of love for the helpless and hurt creature, he remembered the discussion about Lazarus, of the lesson he was
certain he’d understood correctly.

This still-living creature who was preparing to die was more than what it seemed to be.

“Life –living – is all illusion.” Adam sang, loving his life, his world, that suddenly widened into unlimited horizons. The vision soared into truth and understanding. This life he held in his hand was more than what it appeared to be. Now he understood.

“Go, little bird, you sweet! You are more than what even you think yourself to be.” Adam was walking through the door, into the back yard. He could hear the mother bird squawking nearby. “You hear? She calls you, little one. You have yet much to learn... go! Fly! Be more than you think you are, as IAM…”

Adam told me later that he did believe it all as he spoke those words out loud, there in the yard, but also knew his belief, even his words, were not the key. Only Truth would be so; all else is illusion.

Did the bird get up and fly away to its mother?



“Truth .. is .. that .. which .. is .. so .. –
That .. which is .. not .. truth .. is .. not .. so –
Therefore .. Truth .. is .. all .. that .. is.”

Adam’s story, as he tells it: we have moved to the computer, and I will type as he speaks his version of this tale.

“So, how do you like the story so far, on a scale of one to ten,” I ask Adam.

“Which portion, the first or the second?”

Already I know he doesn’t like it. I hear defense tones in my voice…“All of it, actually; it is all part of the same story.”

“The Lazarus, 8.5, maybe a 9, but the bird part had nothing to do with my reality of it. I want you to say you’ve written my part of the story in a pretty manner but your version does not have anything to do with my Truth.” He’s watching my reaction... careful...

“Yes,” I agree. “You tell your story as you remember it. I wrote it as I thought I understood it, both the actual and the spiritual stories. But I am still not seeing the concept clearly. For instance, last class, it was hard for me to grasp all this concept of Lazarus dying, and Jesus raising him from the dead--”

Adam interrupts my defense: “Jesus didn’t raise Lazarus from the dead. Lazarus never died!

He peers into my face, wanting me to understand. “None who was there, even, Martha, and Mary, none could grasp the concept of immortality.”

This is important to the story. He was right. I didn’t ‘get it’, nor did many who heard Jesus speak nearly the same words.

“So!” Adam, gently reminding me back to task.

He continued speaking while I typed. “That Monday morning, which routinely is my day off, Judith went to work and I was cooking my breakfast, kind of pumped up with the fact that, just the night before, I have received another confirmation of my beliefs which I wouldn’t
even whisper to the Christians or Catholics of this world.

“I knew that I was on the right track, maybe enigmatic and invisible, but right.

“Kali, our calico cat, had some problem getting through the kitty door to the kitchen and while she squeezed through, I noticed she had some prey in her mouth.

“She gave me just a quick glance and rushed off to the bedroom. I went right behind her and she released a small bird on the carpet.

“Earlier that morning, while I was having my walk through our property, I’d noticed two birds with very long legs and white collars. Noisy! They are birds who would rather trot than walk.

“Now I was holding the smaller of the two; Kali’s prey. I cupped it in my hand. The head was limp, his eyes were shut. A very dead bird, I thought at first. Then through the skin of my hand, barely detectable, I felt a heart beating, seemed like four hundred beats per minute.

“I put my other hand over the bird and, full of respect for the moment, I walked out through the front door to the grass in the yard. It wasn’t clear to me if the bird was dying or was just scared to death, but death doesn’t exist, you see!

“Following that thought, I put the little bird gently on the grass, noticing its mother was screaming a couple houses away, on the opposite side of the street. Soon, once little bird felt the grass under his head, he woke up, and trotted to his mother like there was no tomorrow.

“That’s what the bird told me: ‘There is no tomorrow. There is no death. Life is all there is.’

“Truth is all that is. End of story.”

This is our bird story. You read it, decide for yourself what really happened, but I still think a bird taught us truth.

Copyright April 13, 2003 by Judith Leigh Bailey
All Rights Reserved