Amonst the elders of the Dogon Tribe in Central Africa a flurry of discussion was held by the Adrinki Tree, the main point of conversation within the community. The Dogon (or Kaador, Kaado) are an ethnic group indigenous to the central plateau region of Mali, in West Africa, south of the Niger bend, near the city of Bandiagara, and in Burkina Faso. The population numbers between 400,000 and 800,000.
Boko was watching from a distance within his hut whilst his mother was preparing his morning meal of goat’s milk and beans. Arrogantly he shouted, “Mother, when is it ready? I have to go and play with Hurani by the Adrinki tree soon once our elders have left this morning’s meeting.” “Boko, watch your manners, what have we taught you? Lord have mercy on us,” softly uttered Boko’s mother hurrying to finish her task. “Mother, you must make me this meal, I have to go, you know what, I will go hungry, since you cannot play the role you are supposed to,” Boko replied angrily. Boko ran out of the hut with his eyes still fixated on the elders by the tree. Boko’s mother tutted and mumbled words under her breathe.
Tribal elder’s noticed Boko run through the newly planted flowers without a care, he was to focus on this morning’s talks. “Boko, come,” a wise elder voice sounded. Boko stopped in his tracks and turned around sheepishly knowing what he had done.
“Boko today you will go with Narabi into the desert, you will find what you need there,” spoke the main elder. “Ok, but I was-” Boko churped. “You will go with Narabi,” the elder said sternly. “Yes, I will go,” mumbled Boko hesitating. Boko was itching to play with his friend and had no regard for finding what he needed, he knew everything he needed to know and that was that.
The hot desert sun made Boko’s forehead drip sweat onto his cloth dressing whilst flies bothered him, swatting his hand back and forth above his head.
“Ego is a formation of our identity crafted through our life experiences, the name we are given, the things we have been told about ourselves and who we believe we are. The God within us is who we truly are, the ego allows us separation to experience this incarnation and with a healthy ego, knowing who we truly are, we can flourish,” Narabi spoke whilst walking to collect water from the water hole nearby the village, they had followed a track into a clearing. Elephants, zebras and eagles went about their dharma seeking out nourishment from the heaven in the desert. Boko contemplated Narabi’s words, chewing his bottom lip.
“So, what I have created is not real?” shrieked Boko. “Yes and no, you see the ego is our sense of self; it is the illusory “I” story we carry around in the world as an evolutionary survival mechanism. Yet the ego is the source of all our suffering and our feeling of being separated from that which we truly are which is boundless, whole, and infinite. We might call this Spirit, God/dess, Life, Oneness, Consciousness, and so on,” replied Narabi twisting her braids observing and collecting water in vases for that night’s ceremony which Boko had yet to discover.
“So the more ego-based we are, the further we are from the Light of Consciousness which goes beyond the self? And if residing in the ego equals a disconnection from the Divine, living from a place of ego-centric God Complex goes one step further: it is like living in total darkness – the very definition of hell?” questioned Boko patiently awaiting a reply. “Father, was right Narabi, I have been silly and childish in my ways.”
“When a person is living in hell, they will harm others. This is basic knowledge that even a child like you can understand. When there is a total absence of light, there is only darkness – and how can a person see clearly, feel clearly, think clearly, or behave clearly in such a state? The result is suffering, both for the one experiencing the God Complex and those unfortunate souls around him or her in the village,” reasoned Narabi with her strong and wise words, an elder female within the Dogon tribe who Boko took seriously as she was the mother of wisdom, the nickname the tribe had given her affectionately.
Boko excused himself, thanked Narabi for her help in understanding the ego and ran through the village back to his hut and squeezed his mother tightly and didn’t let go. “Boko, what has come over you today? Are you ill?” Boko’s mother spoke. “Mother, I love you and apologise for all my wrongdoings, I have learnt, I am not my ego, I am the divine encapsulated within this body. Mother, I found something today and that is my true self,” whispered Boko still clinging to his mother. “You know Boko, you know,” smiled his mother with joy.
That night, under moon-lit savannah, the Dogon tribe initiated Boko under the Adrinki tree into the ascended ones and began Boko’s journey on the path of love, truth, knowledge and wisdom. For one day, Boko would be teaching another version of himself in another under the very same tree.
The divine disguises itself in us all, clothed in many dresses, yet the ego is naked, the true seat of self is the all, the fraction of the fractal within us all.