Our True Ancestry
What great destiny could this little patch
Of Cariboo earth hold,
These few tumbledown buildings
Gently moldering away on a lonely roadIn a lonely land
Far from the pulse of cities
And the wealth and power of England?
No destiny here,
Common sense would have said
As it surveyed the forlorn scene
Other than the age-old fate
Etched deep in the human heart
—To labor, to dream, and to die.
But he beat the system,
This man I knew as Martin.
He did not allow himself to get away with things.
He did not allow himself to quit.
He kept his integrity.
And as he held fast to that golden cord
The sweet voice of spirit spoke from the stillness
And reminded him of a different ancestry
A different home
Greater than the proud name of England
Or the proud halls of Burghley.
He remembered his place in the serene orderOf the stars,
And in the sunlit courtyards of eternity.
He remembered that he was not just of the earth
Even though he lived here for the moment;
He carried the light of the sun in his eyes.
He was a prince
From the realm of light
And he had come to remind others
— Trapped in bonds of forgetfulness and despair —
That they too were of light
And together their work was to return the planet
To a place of beauty and love.
Chris Foster
The Magnitude of One Man’s Life
from
A Ninth Anniversary Tribute to Martin Exeter
January 12, 1997 Martin Exeter Hall 100 Mile House BC
Lillian Cecil — The 12th of January, 1997. Where do the years go? I haven’t shared
my spoken word much in the last nine years, although those of you in the 100
Mile House unit know I put my two-cents worth in every so often. But today I
feel quite honoured to speak before you—speak with you. So much has been said
about Martin and his glorious spirit that was offered to everyone; his steadfastness;
his love of the truth. There are so many things that could be said, from my
standpoint. I did bring the book, his biography, One Heart, One Way, by Chris Foster, The Life and Legacy of Martin Exeter. We all have lives and we all
have legacies to leave, every one of us.
I appreciate what’s been said
already, because it depends upon me, and you.
Many times I would say to Martin, “I love your spirit.” And he would
say, “I love yours.” We all have
spirits, and if they blend and can be worked together, that’s it! And sometimes I’d say to him, when I’d had a
low day, “I am sorry to add to your load.” He would say, “I have no load. It
has been lifted up in spirit, to the true spirit.” I thought, isn’t that
wonderful. Am I going to get to that moment, where all my burdens, so called,
where all the loads of life are not there? They might duck in one door and out
the other, but they are dealt with, if you want to use that word—I don’t like
that word—they are encompassed, they are enfolded with my spirit of love and
understanding, of tolerance, whatever it might be in that moment. Uranda’s and
Martin’s lives absolutely inspired me, to the ‘nth degree, in my life. That was
all that was important, and that is all that is important! That is why we are
on earth—the truth of being on earth—to again let that be expressed on earth.
Some things that were said in this
book relate to the fact that the world doesn’t seem very happy; it doesn’t seem
very nice to live in any more. And yet there is a way for that to change, and
we are here to see that it does, in whatever way we do it through ourselves,
individually. When we do it individually we find that we have friends. I count
you my friends, and many others. A few days ago I got a phone call (and every
so often I get a phone call or a letter like this): “Lillian, how are you? How
are you doing? I said, “I am fine. How are you?” And the person said, “Well, do
you remember me: I am so-and-so.” “Well, of course I remember you,” I said,
“friends don’t forget friends.”
To put it into angelic terms: the
angels have descended upon this planet, and they are all over the earth. They
aren’t just in one spot. That was part of our purpose, as Martin and Uranda
often said; to cover the earth as a mustard seed, with angels; and I thought
last Sundays service was lovely (and the one earlier in the year), where spontaneous combustion happened—and
where we were all on the line together. I think we all thoroughly enjoyed that,
because we suddenly realized that our friends cover the earth. My friends cover
the earth, which I deeply appreciate. It is more than that! It is my whole life
saying, “Thank you Uranda; thank you Martin; because without you two there
would have been nothing! Thank you for what you gave me and for what I could
offer back.” I trust I have always offered something back to each individual.
It might not have been the greatest dessert in the world but at least it was
part of the meal! So angels, thank
you very much for this special time with you. Thank you.
Anne Blaney
— I want to thank each of the speakers for what you have offered, and note that
what you offered was yourself, and your wonderful experience. That is very
touching and I am sure it moved the heart of each person who is here. So thank
you for doing that. And now, I’d like to inject a little surprise at the end of
our time together. From out of Martin’s biography, One Heart, One Way, I am reading:
“Playing an essential part in all
this was Ross Marks, a young man with a ready grin and thick swatch of auburn
hair, who came out to assist Martin during his summer holidays in 1948—and
never did return home. While Ross Marks’ youth sometimes ran into
over-exuberance, Martin found his steadiness and sense of fun a most helpful
influence in all that was happening.”
Ross, I would ask you to come
up and share a devotion to close our commemoration service this morning.
Ross Marks
— Perhaps we might share just a few moments together in conclusion, honouring
the spirit of the man that we are recognizing this morning. We could bow our heads.
It is with a sense of profound
thanksgiving and love that we have shared this time together, letting the
magnification of the particular spirit that is with us this morning rise, providing
increased understanding and appreciation. We are thankful for the individual
stories that we, each one, know and could tell if given the opportunity, all of
which are part of the legacy of our friend. It seems appropriate that we have
taken the time this morning to acknowledge him and to express our appreciation
in our own way, through our individual spirits that are present on earth as
part of the one larger spirit that we know. For this, we are profoundly
thankful and we look forward to the continuing opportunity that is ours, as
individuals and collectively, to let that reality find appropriate forms of
expression. We rejoice in that and lift our hearts together in saying, “Thank
you for this.”
I suppose much more could be said,
but I feel that we’ve had a remarkably balanced and broad expression this
morning {through many speakers], which has come from the heart and hearts of us
all. I can’t really think of a quality that Martin exemplified that hasn’t been
touched upon, yet there probably are others, because he exemplified so much.
And these qualities find particular resting places in our hearts—that is what
is so magnificent and beautiful—the diversity of their ongoing individual and
collective expression. We are the living legacy of this man, and we continue to
be that regardless of what we may do or where we may be.
Apparently someone in town asked the question:
“Where are the Emissaries? I am not sure what happened to them.” Well I’m not
quite sure what happened either, but in a sense it doesn’t really matter
because the spirit of friendship and the reality of divine expression has not
been diminished. We are exactly where we need to be, and we cover the earth.
That has always been the name of the game, it seems to me. We will
continue to cover the earth and, with our friends near and far, known and
unknown, the legacy of Martin Cecil works its magic and weaves itself through
the heart of mankind. All that continues and I am proud to play my part, as you
play yours, in this continuing unfoldment in these exciting days. Thank you
all.
© Emissaries of Divine Light
