In Memory of John Drais

Today is January 15th, a year later to the day commemorating when John Harlan Drais passed away. John was the founder of Madre Grande Monastery and The Paracelsian Order, as well as often the elected Abbot, and Right Reverend of the Johannine Gnostic Church.

I have spoken before about my feelings of John's passing (here), and there are in fact many people who knew him much better than I did. So much of the spiritual movement in San Diego since the '70s knew John, and he liked having them as guests on the sacred land of Madre Grande. I have only heard a fraction of the tales, and only seen some of the pictures, but that land has been the location of many sacred hippie romps, loving music festivals, and life-changing spiritual ceremonies.

Since his passing, the monks and friars who continue the Order, have built a traditional labyrinth commemorated to John. When building it and dedicating it, friends and students were encouraged to contribute something to the time capsule that is now buried beneath the center space, topped with a heart shaped stone. Many people took the time to pick something meaningful and preserve it for decades. I can't speak for all of them, but I will say there is one copy of The Voice of the Silence sealed away in the stone box. It was a book that was profoundly important to John, as well as many Theosophical students.

A placard is mounted in front of the labyrinth with John's name, the date of his birth and passing, as well as a quote he often said to the monks, "Loving kindness all the time".

This year has also left us saying goodbye to Sunny the dog, friend to everyone who would pet him, and a very good friend to the monks at Madre Grande Monastery. He arrived one day wandering through the mountains and they fed him. After some deliberation he decided to stay, and he was family. How is this different from any of us there?

After learning of Sunny's death I kept having thoughts of John and Sunny together, a lot like in this photo. I know I wasn't the only one; everyone misses both of them and they were good company to each other.

There is a poem that poet laureate Michael Thorsnes wrote of John. I felt it would be fitting to put it here.

http://www.madregrande.org/healing/The_Nail.pdf

THE NAIL

Long before
they were machine-made by the thousands,
each like the other:
identical, indistinguishable,
for all purposes,
nails were crafted by hand,
each unique.

Though function not changed—
the joinder of the two or more substances—
through its uneven surface,
the early nail performed its task
at greater strength,
each ridge
seating itself by character.

Today, from time to time,
albeit rarely,
the smooth, indistinguishable nails
encounter an ancient brother.
John is such a nail,
easily distinguished from the common lot,
not just by appearance,
by function,
by strength,
but by corridors of an insatiable mind,
one yet to find its limit,
able through texture
to bring and hold us together.