Our Many Worlds: The Benefits and Detriments of Insanity



Whatever worlds make us feel better, live with less fear and positively impact those around us, are the worlds we should exist within.


This morning I was talking with my friend Arkhipova, a diagnosed schizophrenic. We spoke about his dreams which are always so varied: flying through the cosmos on dark wings, speaking to the dead who give him powers. In this particular conversation, Ark Masha Screamwas excited about a dream meeting he had with a woman he’s never met. Her name is Masha, the lead singer of a Serbian music group named Arkona. Masha is everything to Ark. She came to him at a time when he was most alone. He’s learned to keep his relationship with her secret or be taunted for his ‘obsession’, but no one can deny that over the past five years his transformation has been staggering. He has confided in me that this was due to his relationship with Masha. Whether or not this is a figment of his imagination, she has set him free.

I’ve known Ark for more than 20 years. As a young man, his stoic countenance and particular dialect always set him apart from the rest. It was as if he stepped out of a time machine and was making the best of the future. He had a large group of friends that, as teens, partied together in their small, dwindling college town. The entire friend group came from broken homes and were outcasts to the locals. Raised by mental illness, alcoholism, drug addiction, emotional/physical abuse and neglect, these kids somehow emerged as amazing human beings with huge hearts. I met them by what seemed a fluke and came to love each one as a brother.

As they grew older, the friends put partying aside for careers and family, but Ark did not. His mental illness became more apparent; he couldn’t hold down a job, couldn’t live on his own, couldn’t drive. He became a raging alcoholic with anger issues that caused everyone to stop coming around. His dreams were of the psychotic kind: paranoid obsessions that caused him to engage in stalking, grand claims of ruling the cosmos alongside demons and wildly outrageous accusations against his family and friends. As we distanced ourselves from him, Ark turned against us all.

Eventually he was diagnosed and put on heavy medication, moving from his family home into assisted care housing where he was left alone. No one had any hope that the old Ark would ever resurface. He seemed incapable of change.

Five years went by before we reconnected online. Instantly I could tell that something had changed. He was sweet, kind, quiet, thoughtful. He smiled a lot and there was a twinkle in his eye that denoted wisdom and depth. We continued to talk and he slowly opened up to me about his visions and dreams, which are the most important part of his secluded life.

“Are Masha’s gods yours now?” I asked him. “You seem very changed.” He was a devout Satanist when I knew him last. Masha prays to the Serbian saints, and seems to be somehow connected with nature as well; all positive directions away from the nihilism of Ark’s past. “I am trying new things!” he replied. “Not her god, Masha would not have that. But I am trying love.” Music to my ears, coming from one who once openly rejected such sentiments. What could account for such a change?



I can only speak for Westerners, who are programmed to deeply mistrust and judge those who do not fit the norm. What are the guidelines by which we judge insanity, when each of us lives in entirely relative worlds whose rules are based on a unique set of experiences? Do these experiences need to be “real” to be of benefit to us? As quantum sciences advance, the term real seems more and more illusory and multi~dimensionality becomes more a possibility.

Degrasse Tyson GOT

Despite America’s clinical stance on insanity as allowed unless it is a danger to others or self, it’s safe to say that the average person would call someone like Ark insane. For this, people like him either hide their experiences from others or demand that others accept their beliefs, thus risking being labeled crazy. Each of us, however, lives in many self~constructed worlds. We move between them based on new information, revising the rules moment by moment as we see fit. Though some of these worlds are shared by others based on societal laws and regulations, there are no two exactly the same.

When I’m having a bad morning and someone cuts me off in traffic, I run to a world called “People Aren’t Supposed To Do That” and can now judge the line~cutter based on the rules of that world, dwelling on his/her actions all day some days. If I’m having a good morning and the exact same scenario plays out, I drift in the blissful world of “Everyone Makes Mistakes”, and the infraction is forgotten minutes later.

When we meet a person that claims to see visions, travel to other realms or have dreams that come true, we tend to judge them from the world of “Where’s The Proof?” We simply hqdefaultdo not see proof of miraculous events in our daily lives, and very few have experienced anything so bizarre. Even I, who here claims to see visions, travel to other realms and have dreams that come true, judge others on their level of believability based on my own rules. It is that ingrained! These experiences also tend to be tabooed or even vilified by visible charlatans attempting to make money off of false abilities, though not all charlatans are without gifts.



My twin sister has recently become a nun of the Russian Orthodoxy (renamed “Sister Masha”, interestingly enough). In the forest behind the convent, while chopping wood for the winter, she was visited by a Father of her order named Silouan who died twenty years before she was born. Though we both speak to those who no are no longer human, it is still hard for either of us to share these experiences with one another for fear of being judged; largely because our mother’s similar experiences destroyed our family, but also because, over years of not being able to relate profoundly esoteric, life~changing adventures, it becomes difficult to even try. The deeper you go into the spiritual worlds, the less you are able to describe them in words.

Silouan Soul

When, I first shared stories of my spiritual master with my sister, she would be very quiet and change the subject as soon as possible. Once Silouan began to come to her, she began to listen with an uncomfortable curiosity. Having spent most her life deep in Protestantism, Sister Masha knows the Bible better than anyone I’ve ever met; not just common interpretations, but the pure truth beneath the words. The more I shared Dap Ren’s teachings with her the more Bible verses she found that mirrored them. Through me she discovered a thread that winds through all religions and belief systems. Through her I discovered the truths of the book that I’ve rejected my whole life. In Matthew, the guidelines for how to tell whether truth is pure or impure are explained.


Growing up, my sister and I only witnessed bad fruit. Our mother has a genuine gift to see and sense beyond the human experience. As with many who are so touched, she was severely abused as a child. Utterly alone, she clung to the word of God to save her. It helped her believe that she was not alone, that she was loved.

Over years, however, the voice of her ego became a god’s voice as her psyche shattered and her personality borderlined. She became an addict of signs and wonders which she must create in her own mind as proof of her unique place at God’s side. The Voice began to tell her exactly what she wanted to hear: that she was special and that those who did not believe as she did were wrong. We are sinners in her eyes. Though we don’t hold this against her, my three siblings and I, as well as mother’s sister, brother, nieces, nephews and grandchildren, have had little choice but to cease all contact with her. Every rejection has been nothing more than further proof that she, like Jesus, has been crucified by the very people she was sent to save.

Like my friend Ark, my mother couldn’t help what she became. He could very well have suffered the same fate, continuing to believe the lie his sickness was telling him; that his actions were blameless and those who rejected him were to blame for his loneliness. Why didn’t he? Because one person loved and believed in him? No amount of the love we or her God had for our mother changed her. The difference in them is that Ark was ready to change but my mother is not. Isn’t it interesting that one finds damnation through the voice of God, while another finds saving in the growled voice of a metal music singer? Nothing is as it has been judged by man.


Ark’s story is also mine. Diagnosed bipolar, put on heavy medications and left alone, I tried to kill myself with drugs and life~risking behaviors long before I chose to change. It was an astral being that came to me in a vision who initiated the change, and the many worlds he took me to ~~worlds most would consider delusional ~~ altered my trajectory from a life in hell towards a life of beauty and wonder. Because my mother believed concretely the lie that was her truth, it took many years for me to believe my own worlds. Slowly, my siblings and I learn to believe ourselves and each other, a process that is still in progress.



In the annals of this website you’ll find all sorts of outrageous claims, but I write them down in hopes that others who share similar experiences will also feel empowered to believe in themselves. It is important to remember that each of our personal worlds are absolutely real to us, and that we don’t have to try and convince anyone that they are real. To be true to our own worlds, and to respect other’s worlds, is to find peace.

All that matters is the journey, unique to each of us.

Our Many WorldsAll that awaits us is love, and the worlds that lead us there are worlds worth believing in.


Ending Physical Pain For Good, Pt II: Ouroboros


“Oroborus, symbol of eternal life
dig a tunnel through light, through ignorant walls
I’m counting the days but I’m dying
Grow up with impatience I’m falling down

On the peaks of radiant mountains
this truth is growing before before me
My attention fixed on this silence
Rediscover life while I’m breathing

Designing the shape of material
Frozen icon distant reminder
Mankind has forgotten the gateways
By the mouth of the serpent regenerate”

Oroborus, by Gojira


“To be human is to suffer.”

This statement is not true, but it’s what most of us believe; even those like me who tell themselves they don’t. It is true, however, that to be human is to experience pain, whether or not we must. But pain goes deeper than just the suffering we cause ourselves by believing a lie. Sometimes specific pain is the reason we are here. Surpassing pain leads to ever~increasing states of fulfillment and peace.

How can we tell why we are suffering? There’s no point in trying, yet I find I always want to know the why, though the reasons are usually infinite and intertwined. A major indicator, however, is evident in all aspects of my life that are being hindered by pain. Once my life ground to a halt due to debilitating spinal pain, I had no choice but to face the reality of my creation head~on.

All I had to do was look it in the eye and acknowledge that it was not Me, and the powers that be swooped in and did the rest. After eight years of increasing debilitation, I am Surpasshealed and it is done. My previous post on this subject, Ending Physical Pain: For Good details the process as prescribed by master Eckhardt Tolle. It works. Doesn’t matter what kind of pain it is, emotional or physical, or how incurable. The only catch is that if you’re not ready to move on from the lesson your pain is trying to teach you, it won’t heal, or another, similar sort of pain will take its place. If what your pain is teaching you is a lesson you came here to learn, you’ll live it until you’ve learned it. That may mean being in pain your entire life, but that doesn’t mean you have to suffer every step of the way.


It’s so strange to me now that three months ago I was bedridden more often than I wasn’t, bent on figuring out how I was going to live out my dreams from the bedroom, and now I’m working in the garden, running up and down stairs like a teenager and planning for the rest of my life. What’s most interesting is that nothing has really changed.


I expected the very Earth itself to hold its breath or throw a party, or mourn the years I spent in bed. I expected people around me to be shocked and amazed, and feel like something really huge and inexplicable had taken place, and that they would shout to the rooftops that they had seen a miracle occur. But none of that happened. It was all a rather quiet affair. I would tell people that I was cured and they’d say “That’s awesome…hey, did you see that blog on Facebook about…” and I’d want to grab them by their shoulders and say “WAIT! Didn’t you hear me?? I’M CURED!!!!“, but in the end it was best to move on with them.

Much of people’s reactions were due to the fact that I hid my pain well. The end of my pain meant little more to the world around me than that my boss would no longer be getting those inevitable, early morning call~ins, or that I could make it to my classes every day. But I didn’t need anyone else to be shocked. I, myself, was more shocked than anyone.

The way it all went down was one miracle after another. I got to the point where I was dropping classes and not able to work because of pinched nerves and spinal migraines that kept me in bed for days at a time. In search for disability services, I returned to the chiropractor that had initially taken the x~rays of my spine years ago, who had diagnosed irreversible spinal fusion. New x~rays would prove that I could no longer physically function in society. It was a dark thought for me, that my body could no longer do what I wanted it to do.

But the new x~rays showed something entirely different. My spine was miraculously no longer fusing itself together. My condition had reversed and was suddenly reversible. I had adjustments three times a week for three weeks, two times a week for three weeks, and once a week for two months. And here I am. Healed.


All we have to do is reach out to that Something More, and we don’t have to do that gracefully or easily. We can crawl towards it on bleeding knees, moaning the entire way…as long as we are still crawling. All we have to do is take just a few steps towards a goal and a way is made. Yes, made. Designed by the exquisite Everything, whose fingers are people and bones and synchronicities. This is what is meant by the Universe making a way for us, the most awesome part of us that can pull all the strings and make magic happen when we meet It halfway. Nothing is set in stone, no condition is permanent.

It can be a time to stop imagining that the Universe is not entirely capable of stepping in when we’ve done all we can. It can be a time to stop hindering ourselves and start using the unimaginable power we have access to, to empty ourselves just enough that some small trickle of the light or sound can flow through. We need only allow it in.

Does that mean that I can now live happily ever after? Interestingly enough, no. Just as soon as the physical pain was gone, a whole host of new problems flooded my life situation. One of the medications I was for the depression I was experiencing ravaged my faculties and I had to drop out of school, despite the willingness of professors to work with me and my increasing ability to sit in the chairs and do the work. Due to my ages~past misdiagnosis of bipolar, and the list of medications that only caused more problems, I have been outspoken most of my life on the dangers of such diagnoses, and the tendency that carelessly scripted psychiatric medications have to exacerbate problems that therapy could greatly improve. That I agreed to this medicine and it caused so many problems made me angry. The side effects lasted for months as I slowly weaned myself off of the medication, ranging from sudden, extreme rages, derealization episodes and black depressions.

The worst of it was that I seemed cut off from spiritual escape. I couldn’t focus my mind long enough to meet with my master or travel the other dimensions that I’m accustomed to The Sky Is Shutvisiting when I need to center myself. I started smoking cigarettes and even drank some alcohol on occasion, after having not touched either in fifteen or more years. The world around me seemed to go mad. It wouldn’t stop raining; many places in my town flooded, then the entire state. My daughter got into a bad car accident, totaling her car and causing her injury. My nephew’s father went into the mental ward, causing him suffer yet another suicidal depression. Shortly after that his mom, my twin sister, disappeared into thin air. The police got involved. We had no idea if she was alive or dead for weeks, until we got an email saying she had entered a convent and was never coming home. I never got to say goodbye.

This all threw me into a midlife crisis, which I now find myself in the midst of. I have no idea who I am or how I am perceived by others, which seems to be the ego’s intense focus at any given moment. I feel as if I can only cause damage to those around me, and so I am not capable of being in personal relationships. I have removed myself from all social media and cut down on my personal interactions with friends who, interestingly enough, all seem to be quite busy with their own lives at the moment, so it works out fine with no hard feelings involved.

The feeling of having nothing to offer the world but pain, and being in pain because of the world is so intense that I have no choice but to return to silence, to return to my master


Muddy Handswasn’t that what my disabling spinal pain was also trying to teach me? The world around me becoming so intense that I had no choice but to return to the silence? Isn’t that what pain is for? To remind us that everything we need is a breath away. Every answer we have ever asked is in the glorious, Wordless Chamber of the soul. The lesson I’m learning now is that same lesson I was learning in bed, day after day. It’s the same lesson I’ve been learning my entire life, and the learning comes and goes, intermingled with forgetting.

Therefore… if, as human beings, we will continually be subject to pain throughout our many cycles upon the Earth, it would benefit us to stop focusing solely on the pain and
start focusing on the cure. That cure is the silencing of the suffering victim inside.

Journey of Souls

Journey of Souls…artist: ?

I can stop now. Right now. Shut all the thoughts down and listen to my breathing. The only trouble with this process is remembering to do it. It has taken over ten years to get to the point that I am at now, only for it to be ripped away, leaving me naked in the dark and at the mercy of my never~silenced voice. But even here I am grateful. Even here there is hope, and it’s taken me ten years to be able to know that. It could be another ten years before I can hold silence, but to paraphrase one of Ram Dass’s favorite sayings, “What else am I gonna do?”

We fall asleep, we wake, over and over. We fall asleep and die, we wake as another human, new to the Earth but ages old. We travel through time with our mind, past to future and back again, dreaming in those eras that we label good or bad, painful or pleasurable. We create worlds that we live in, and often those worlds are painful, and we imagine that the pain comes from outside, when it is merely a reflection from within.

We have not felt, or have felt but have forgotten, the pleasure of being in this exact spot, in this exact moment, the pleasure of creating a world in which joy reigns. We label life, think it is one thing when it is something completely different. At its root, life is all things and every thing, and whatever we want it to be. It is bliss, waiting for us to refocus enough to notice it. Only we can make it blissful.

I can stop now. Right now. I can feel the knowledge burning within me that I hold the cosmic keys to my creation and times. Anything is possible, and only fear can keep me from becoming this new thing that waits beneath the shell of misery I believe to be reality. Even in this state of complete unknowing and constant mental turmoil, I am aware that there is a purpose.

Only when we have forgotten who we are, we remember that we are not what we believe ourselves to be, and that is vital to whatever future Now we create, for rise or ruin. We must reincarnate ourselves into the ever~more~empty vessels through which all possibilities flow. In the wake of being cured of the disability I defined myself with, I can imagine no better lesson than for that self to die so that a fresh, new consciousness can be born.

The persona I had become is dying, and it is extremely painful. I go to work and come home and recluse myself and chant, chant, chant. I have never chanted before, and to be honest I thought I never would, but when the ego is going mad chanting is a key. A few weeks ago I chanted for four days. By that fourth day a euphoria was coming over me, filling with that oneness of the universe and myself as a part of it, grasping my abilities of materianimus once more, using them to shape my world back into the soft, rounded path, away from the thorns and potholes I had grown too accustomed to. And then I slept again, and the misery returned. It’s like menopause, a burning away that waxes and wanes until it is done. I can fight against it and be angry that I cannot hold focus for long, or I can flow with it, be one with it, fully integrate it into myself and give it acceptance. It’s a frightening process, to face one’s fears and embrace them, yet this truly is the only way through. Straight through the maze, walking through perceived walls.

My master, DapRen, acquisitioned me to help him build a temple on Stilleverden, a planet devoid of life but plants. I go there and ring the glass bell anytime life on Earth gets too complicated. It’s a larger version of an inverted crystal wine glass, and the part that rings is a wet, plasticized mat that, when swung in a wide circle, causes the HU sound to echo out across the ocean. That no one or nothing is there but me to hear it means everything.


As tumultuous as this phase sounds, I am finally able to juggle the intense emotions of the human experience. I am separate from them while simultaneously experiencing them, and finally have a concrete understanding of inner stillness as the single solution to any maze. I love this part of my spiritual walk; that Knowing even in the midst of profound Unknowing, dark and light in equal parts, turmoil intermingled with a calm acceptance of it and an understanding that it is not for nothing.

I’m so ready for what the future holds, so readychoosing joy

Balancing the Dichotomy in A New America




Before you read this post, take a moment to look at this picture. Try and fathom that the light from those least~visible white specks in the background is almost 14 billion years old.

13.8 billion years ago, one world in one solar system in one of those distant galaxies had life on it that was extinguished. The light that we see is still from the time when life existed there; all the pain that the species suffered from whatever catastrophe it endured. One day in the future we could face such an end, and the light shining from that last sunset will shine some 13.8 billion years into the future, into the eyes of some future species who may, also, be suffering.

This suffering is the reason there is matter. It is the purpose of the coarse physical planes, the course of learning through physical form. To say that suffering is finite is not to say that it is meaningless. Without suffering, we could not know how to rise above it. Though it is the purpose of matter, it is the least enduring experience of the energy from which we spawned. Existence exists long after matter and its suffering have been transformed. I want to begin this diary entry with that infinity in mind.

There is a dichotomy inside; daily wonder, peace and wellness mingled with shock, concern and sometimes anger for our present situation, due to the challenges posed by America’s new president. This is the dichotomy that Buddha spoke of as the Unbearable Beauty. Comprehension of the Eternal reveals the beauty of the design, even as living on Earth means being surrounded by great suffering. Yet, it was not the beauty Buddha realized nor the suffering he witnessed that caused him to make such an impact on the world, but the place of stillness between these two from which Something pure expressed itself through him. May I employ that stillness for what is to come.

The Universe is unfamiliar with the concept of inaction. It uses wisdom in its action, moving in accordance to conservation; the least amount of energy necessary to function, even in the collision of galaxies and the violent explosions of stars. Both of these events, through conservation,  renew life, and so shall we.



In the past I refused to follow the political scene in the States. Years passed and I barely noticed the change from one president to another. By word of mouth I heard plenty about the mistakes we were making in the world and the audacity with which we threw our weight around with no consideration to the differences of others, and I hated that reality. I hated being white and American. I was ashamed of the country I lived in. I saw how stressed and infuriated those who followed politics were and chose to reject it all, to live my small life and leave politics to those who felt driven to be involved.

As an American, I’ve been able to do that. Countless other humans have not been so lucky. The world now looks to us to set our affairs straight in attempts to prevent a large~scale shift from democracy to something less free, something many other countries have had the misfortune of experiencing. I cannot pretend to know what could come, but I feel Trump’s intent and see the effect it is having on the people i love. If left unchecked, America could very well be responsible for altering the comfortable way of life that its citizens are so familiar with. We could come to learn what it is like to see how the “other half” lives which, if we are honest with ourselves, we could use practice in. However potent a lesson we can take from these coming days, what many of us are most worried about is America making an enemy of the world more than we already have.

The knowledge of the grand scheme I harbor inside me assures that I am not afraid, for I have seen the Next, the biggest picture in which our plan is also the plan of the It who sees All. Let’s assume there is an “end” to Eternity, which many people think of as Heaven. At that end love is all that exists, and what is not love cannot exist there. Therefore, everything that happens is working in accordance to that end. Even Trump is part of this biggest picture.

With this in mind, the time has come for me to employ action. I, as one facet of every human on this planet, cannot stand by and do nothing while the one who represents us threatens my brethren, alienates citizen from citizen and country from country, and speaks the language of hate with my voice, a language that does not adequately describe who I am and what I stand for. Yet, if I act with anger, chances are my actions will only hurt matters further, not help them. Acting from a place of compassion is the greatest benefit to all. While anger can be a call to action, to live in anger is to live against the laws of conservation, expending more energy than needed in a direction that does little to solve any situation but does much to damage the body and the mind.

That is not to say that action based in anger is always impure. There is a difference between acting from anger and allowing anger to become who you are. To live from the purest intent, whatever that intent may be, is most beneficial to all. To live with purest intent is to find ourselves available for others in times of their greatest need. We need not go out and search for ways to help. When living from stillness the ways in which we can help appear, often miraculously, before us.

I will rise to whatever occasion calls me as so many of you have done, despite the loved ones you have lost and the hardship you have endured. Thank you for standing for what you believe in. Perhaps Americans can can consider your struggles and triumphs and know how to proceed with our own. Bear with us. There are more of us not represented by this faction than those of us who are, and those who do stand for the current policies may come to realize they are concerned with no best interests but their own.


For forty years I have lived free of media. I have observed the differences between myself and others in this regard. I observe the delicate balance between being informed and being assuaged by opinion. News broadcasts desensitize people to violence and cause a constant state of dissent. They lead us in a desired direction, convincing us we know what’s going on “out there”. From a standpoint based on unbalanced knowledge we make our judgments, choose our sides and live in the very fear and anger that those who represent us work within.

Because our opinions don’t change the game much, many have resorted to chronic and habitual complaining about the state of our country, and of the world, with little action to resolve issues. This causes our nervous systems to remain in fight or flight mode constantly, which floods our bodies with chemicals that should be reserved for few occasions. Heart disease, cancer, mental illness; these things further impede our clarity, and exacerbate the suffering we have become accustomed to.

Due to the unique nature of my situation, the realities of Trump’s presidency are much more striking to me than to those who have been inundated with political rhetoric their whole lives. I understand how Siddhartha felt as he first walked from his comfortable palace and saw the dead and suffering in the streets. His ignorance was not of his doing, but his father’s attempts to protect him. Mine is. However, I feel that both of us benefited from so many years of naivetè. I now can take action based on an unclouded view of what is of foremost importance.

I have watched this recent presidential election rip loved ones apart, cause friends to become bitter enemies and turn kind people into vicious family-tornfanatics. My own parents both voted for Trump, shaking my family’s foundation. People I trust completely often seem like strangers as they quote aggressive, often racist rhetoric, like sleepers that cannot wake. They don’t even know what they are saying. But I also see that people are realizing that the damageprevious ‘he said she said’ mentality was for naught; that we must stop mere complaining now and address the situation at hand. It’s been hard for us to let go of complaining. For now, we are complaining more than ever before. Yet, more people are standing than ever before. We are all realizing how good we’ve had it, looking through new eyes at the world who, before, we felt far~removed from, as brethren who have seen this scenario play out in their own lives, veterans of a battle we are only now beginning to prepare for.

Perhaps this is the positive product of a negative situation. Any time we are shaken from our illusions and reminded of our [fill in the blank]~centricities, something good can come of it. For me this is an all new game, whose rules I do not understand. Therefore, it’s important for me not to play, but to allow stillness to move me across the board as it will.


The beautiful thing about inner silence is that action is taken without the forcing of a hand. I will not go out and start a war, nor will I search for a skirmish to partake in. The beauty of the design is so exquisite! So intricately woven! By forcing events we stand in the way of progress. To many, being involved means to be “for” one thing and “against” something else. We must be angry, we must shout out our rage and dissent, and be terrified. That’s how we show that we care.

This past week I was on campus, and came upon a large group of people speaking out about Trump’s recent ban on travel to and from various Muslim countries. There have been many functions that I have not been able to participate in, but this gathering appeared directly in my path, and it was so beautiful. What impressed me about these people is that they weren’t calling names, pointing fingers or assigning blame, they were focusing on the facts only. They were showing love for those whose lives have been turned upside down, and thanking Muslims on campus for their grace and patience, and the strength they show despite their fear.

Many people believe that love has no power. We believe that violence and anger have power because, historically, these have very visible results. When you smile at a Muslim person that you pass on the street, you don’t get to see what effect that smile has on them, nor the wave of love it creates through them that touches everything they touch and everyone they meet.

This time in America will require more than smiling at a passing stranger, but during action, to live from fear and hate is to pinch off the flow of the greatest power of existence, that has a view from the highest mountain top, so to speak, and knows which way the wind is moving. That power is the wind! It is the mountain top. It looks through Trump’s eyes and feels how utterly cut off from It he is, and it feels only compassion because It is him. Will you dare to believe that this is true? I will.

We must now find balance between both states of the dichotomy, not because we hate Trump, but because we love each other.

The Ninth Door: Materianimus


Since 2005 I have been solving the 64 Doors. On a rainwater lake in parallel~dimension Malaysia, four huts on stilts house 64 puzzles waiting to be solved. Each Door presents me with a challenge related to my current stage in life; honing the skills most required to traverse non~physicality. It is a more simplified version of myself that I create, increasingly emptied of the unnecessary baggage of false thought I have acquired. The more empty I become, the more lightweight, the more control I have over what I create.

The lesson that all Doors have in common is trust in myself and the path I have chosen. In my version of this universe, I have chosen physical matter as the medium with which I mould challenges for myself, both beneficial and detrimental, in order to discover the unique way in which I wish to advance ever~onwards through eternity.

In my version of existence, I am the extension of an energy that takes many forms, both physical and non~physical, as part of the purpose of experiencing infinite possibility. Energy re~creates itself continuously and at will can, through me and everything in the universe, mould its own physical matter to serve its own purpose. It, through me, only needs to create, but the baggage I have taken on blocks its frequencies. Thus, it is up to me to clear those frequencies, that the full flow of source energy can move through me and carry out our purpose. And what is that purpose? To experience.


When I fully buy into physical life as concrete and immovable, I embrace the illusion that everything is “out of my hands”, and that the suffering of this world is for nothing. To accept responsibility for the suffering in my life as having been tailor~made for me, by me, is to release myself from the weight of helplessness and victimization, and to accept freedom.

It is also the permission I give myself to create! It was only when I was able to come to this conclusion that I could begin to know contentment right here, right now; not depending on whether my life became something else that seemed more “successful” or “pleasing”, but exactly as it is in this moment, for all its pain and pleasure. It was only when I began to fathom this knowledge that I could be part of the solution, instead of a continuing part of the problem. It’s a daily process, to be sure. The Doors give me a place to practice remembering that, like they, physical life is also malleable.

The Ninth Door experience was initiated several weeks ago by a nightly visit to another world I explore; the solely~flora planet, Stillevarden. I’ve been exploring this “still world” for willowsseveral years now, directed by my master Dap Ren. Recently I’ve been walking the Coarse Shore, so named because of the coarse grade of the uniform quartz (?) sand beneath my feet and the strange, dark and lichen~like patch of trees along the beach. This particular night I was suddenly catapulted to the 64 Doors. I sat down on the bamboo dock, remembering that it has been a year+ since solving Door Eight (the Window and the Mirror in the post The 64 Doors). It always seems like lifetimes between these solvings, but it’s rarely longer than a year and a half.

I fell asleep anticipating what this new Door would teach me, and questioning myself. consumeSo much questioning cycles through the initial phases of a solving; generally involving whether or not I will force events and images to be created with my ego instead of allowing the process to unfold naturally. Control of the mind and the ability to focus attention here and now are the greatest of all practices we can undertake in this life, as preparation for the Next of Things. Living on Earth is only part of the journey. In Eternity there is no final destination.

It didn’t even occur to me that night that I was essentially asking my sleeping self a question: is it really time to solve the Ninth Door? As so often happens, my dream ninedoorquestion was answered. I found myself before the Door, the first time I’ve ever visited that place in dreams. The wall surrounding its Moorish~styled archway, leading into thick, dark green leaves, was made of concrete.

I woke that morning with a start and realized that it was, in fact, time! Always so exciting, even in my nervousness and lack of faith in myself.  I always question whether or not I’ll somehow fail or come to a dead end, unable to move forward~~as if such a thing is even possible.

I had time that morning to lay in bed. I was curious as to why the wall around the Door was made of concrete when every other Door I’ve ever solved, be it open to darkness or made of wood, sits in a jade door frame and surrounding wall. As usual, my first instinct is to think that I, myself am conjuring what I am seeing, moulding my surroundings to my idea of reality instead of allowing reality to be what it is. It’s a game I play with myself, thinking that I’m not “worthy” of the task. Part of remembering the process is to learn to trust myself over and over again.

Night after night I went to the concrete wall and stood before it. I’ve learned that it is best to stand quietly and simply observe to keep the mind from attempting to do something, as our minds are want to do. I touched the concrete, felt the cool of it, noticed the small bubbles and pock marks that dotted its surface. Night after night I went and stood before it until, one night, my thoughts won.

‘I wonder if there’s something I’m supposed to be doing? Maybe…building a jade front over the concrete?’ I thought about concrete and what it symbolizes: rough, abrasive, rigid, unnatural structure i.e. man’s influence on nature. Jade is the opposite. It is soft, smooth, nature~made. Unlike the jade door frames on the other Doors, this concrete doorway was rough and sharp.


Just for fun I researched jade and where it is found, interested in the discovery that certain forms of jade are found in Malaysia. The next time I went to Door Nine, the concrete had turned green. I chided myself for altering its reality by thinking there was something I had to do, as opposed to sitting quietly and allowing things to happen organically. But night after night, the concrete wall remained green. Anything I attempt to force the creation of eventually disappears. This consistency was an indicator that I could trust what I saw.

After about a week or so, I noticed jade welling through the concrete in liquid form. When I touched it, the parts of it that were hardened were warm. There was nothing giving about the softer parts of it as I would have imagined. It felt more like glass; nothing I could push my finger into but still soft somehow. Because of my interpretation of concrete as being man~made, I began to feel as if what this wall was trying to tell me was that I had some part in creating the Doors…and why should that be such a bad thing?

Previously I had believed that this lake already existed on some plane or dimension that anyone could go to if they knew how. In the initial visit to this place was a message in the form of a poem, which said “One day dream this place with me,” as if everyone should go to the Doors. What I know now is that the poem means that each of us will Go to our own place, a place perfectly tailored to our preferences and needs. It impresses upon me again and again that the rigid thought structures we hold against mystical or astral experiences as “made up” or “false”, part of mental illness, miss the point completely. If something helps us, it doesn’t matter whether it is “real” or not. The proof is in the proverbial fruit of the tree. If your beliefs create joy in you and cause you to affect others positively, they are of the Source. If your beliefs continue your suffering and the suffering of others, they are illusion.


I used to be a zealot, believing that my path was for others and that I needed to prove that fact to them, but over years I’ve come to quite enjoy that this path is mine, alone. Each of us lives within our own worlds, and learning to trust our own worlds and lean into them is to lift us from the heaviness of hot soil and human thought. One of my sisters is a Christian and another is a Buddhist, yet we all experience the same lessons simultaneously, much to our constant wonder and excitement. We share what is similar of our paths, and find common truths in each other as fresh, new points of view. It is incredibly satisfying!

wp_20161225_15_32_04_pro_20161225164053Sitting on the dock before the Door, I looked down the forming wall to notice that there were no other Doors there but the Ninth. It occurred to me then that I’ve never actually looked at the entire side of one of these huts as a whole, I’ve only ever looked at the single Door I was entering. For the first time ever, I leaned to the right and looked down the wall at Doors 5-8. Though I’ve explored the lake, swam in it, skated over the surface of it and along the line of willows bending there, and walked the white~sand path through rice patties to the village of the Dreamtribe, I’ve never lucidly explored the building in which these first sixteen Doors sit.

While the wall’s jade was forming, I began earnestly observing rainwaterthe hut, its Doors and the surrounding area. Listening to the lap of the water against the large poles holding up the bamboo dock. Watching algae wave on the surface and seeing long, dark plants rocking in the movements of its murky green depths. Listening to the wind in the trees. After about two weeks of exploring in this way whenever I got the chance, the wall was done and cooled and the Door was open.

The leaves of the rainforest beyond were large, almost completely masking a cloudless blue sky but for light gusts of wind that barely revealed it. The leaves are none I’ve ever seen before; having five parts like a star but with squared off ends. I felt a nervous anticipation, wondering if I should simply walk through the Door or what to do. I leaned towards the leaves and felt as if I would fall in! It seemed almost as if the Door was looking ninedoordown into an endless sky. I thought about the meaning behind the concrete; our very human ideas of things that are set in stone. I thought about the other Doors and what they had meant: trust in myself, healing, contemplation, places to rest or to gain knowledge. I thought of Door One and how long it took me to move forward with solving it. With this thought, I suddenly phased right through the entire building and appeared in the First Room, the Golden Medallion in the middle of a concave floor. One more bit of proof that this Door is about defying the calcified thought I have become accustomed to considering law.

I began to think that Door Nine had something to do with soul exploration. I explore the Doors and other places through the Tibetan mental technique, but have only physically left my body a handful of times, and only then with assistance. Despite eleven years worth of experience~~led by my master into other realms~~I still like to think that I’m not pure enough to walk with the masters at the Temples of Golden Wisdom, though the single desire I have for this life is to attain the control required to trust myself as soul experiencing non~physicality.

Fear gripped me.  For two weeks I returned to the Door every night but made no move to enter. Sometimes I was standing in front of the Door and could feel a pulling, as if a gravitational force was moving me towards the leaves and beyond. Eventually I would find myself laying beside the Door, as if it were a pool. The surface rippled when I would lay next to it. On one visit I noticed myself in the reflection, and afterwards spent many weeks laying beside the Door, looking in.

This fear to move forward is a common theme in my life, and I passed it to my daughter. She is in her twenties and doesn’t know what she wants to do, afraid to take a wrong step. Due to a mysterious disorder that she has experienced since about 10 years of age, she has twitches in her hands, legs and even mouth that cause her to drop things, throw things, trip and stutter. Neurologists have been unable to find any abnormality in her brain, which leaves her feeling helpless. Many things she would like to do require using her hands, such as bartending, and she’s afraid she’ll embarrass herself.


She’s stagnated in life and it’s making her depressed, but from a mother’s point of view I see so clearly how fear is more a killer than any embarrassment she could suffer. I know that all she has to do is go out there and do something, and the rest will take care of itself. It takes bravery to go against everything your mind is assuring you is true. Sometimes it takes acknowledgment of the thoughts that feel as if they must be obeyed “or else…”, in order to realize full potential.

And yet I, myself sat for a week staring at the Door terrified to go in. As if a Door would open but I wouldn’t be able to solve it. Just as in life, Doors only open when we are able to enter them. Whether or not we do is another story. It’s our choice whether to allow fear to control us or to take that first step bravely. It is this, with consideration to thoughts of my daughter’s situation, that caused me to roll my form into the ripples while laying beside the Ninth Door pool.


I found myself hovering just beyond the portal surface of the Door. It is, indeed, a portal, not the liquid water I had thought it was. The first thing I noticed was that my body had no discernible features; vague lumps where breasts would be, and these only because I was thinking of myself in human terms. With the realization of this the lumps disappeared. There are no legs, just grey, translucent substance like the body of a jellyfish, dwindling down to a cord which connects me to the surface. I am neither falling nor rising, and there is nowhere to move forward, backward, up or down to.

My first thought was that this space is Nowhere…which I recognised as “now” and “here”. There is nothing to do, nothing to see, nothing but focus on my presence in that form. The practice of fleshing out my surroundings while waiting for the jade to form had actually taught me something about holding focus. I think this Nowhere place is a “green room” of sorts, where I am holding in preparation to leave my body.

I have refused to ask DapRen to help me accomplish this task; it’s something I want to do on my own. I have faith that taking that first step and just doing it, as I have been telling my daughter, is key; getting out there and finding out how to maneuver, controlling my mind by learning quickly what I can and cannot do. I’ve been telling my daughter that she shouldn’t be afraid because she always has home to fall back on. She’ll never fail and be homeless, she can always come back here.

In that same sense, I’m not going out there alone! I have DapRen to look out for me, and he has on many occasions. Those as he are there waiting for us who require their assistance, whether or not we know it. My stubborn refusal to ask for his help has caused me many delays and problems over these past eleven years. True, the master is not to be leaned on. It is up to us to make our own way. Yet, to refuse to go to the Beacon or call for aid can only hold me back from my goals.


I kept returning and falling into the event horizon, holding still in the tuza body, suspended in Nowhere. Nothing else ever happened, and eventually I realized that I had solved the Door. Nowhere IS where the Door leads, and I can continue to go there and practice until I am ready to use that body to leave mine and begin my journey into the spirit realms. Solving only ever opens the gate through which I can return again and again.

Eventually the surface of the event horizon changed. When I lay beside it my face was reflected in the cream~coloured, cracked marble floor of a koi pond where salmon-coloured fish and lotus flowers drifted. I felt a sense of accomplishment, but didn’t realize that the solving was far from over.

Very quickly, my health and mental state deteriorated, until I found myself at my lowest point in years. A Dark Night of Soul descended, one that far exceeded the hopelessness and disillusion of any previous experience. Complete lack of understanding of or compassion for self. Complete lack of understanding or compassion from others. People who didn’t know me reacted to me as if I was insane, drawing away from me for seemingly no reason. People on the street seemed to leer or glare. Other drivers in traffic became reckless and dangerous to me. I became obsessively self~absorbed, my mind turning over dark-nightevery detail of every wrong done me, every mistake I had ever made. No joy could be found within or without.

I began missing work and school due to pinched nerves, muscle pain and all forms of dis~ease and ailment. I couldn’t live with myself physically, emotionally. The door of the sky was shut to me; no words of wisdom could I comprehend. Nature was “out there” and I was trapped inside myself without access to relief. I could no longer carry on conversations with anyone, because I had no idea what I was saying or how I was being perceived, which was profoundly important to me and part of negative self~talk.

Everything began to dissolve. I was gripped with insomnia, waking each morning too early, with a horrific fear of some~nameless~something going very wrong. I flunked a chemistry test due to a migraine that kept me from being able to concentrate, and had to drop the class. My internet mysteriously quit working and I couldn’t do my homework or read my online books. I became more socially anxious than ever, phobic of being in public.

My twin sister was going through a very similar time, as happens so often between us. We both struggled with life events. She found out that she has Crohn’s disease. My father died for nearly 20 minutes before being resuscitated. A cat I have had for 13 years was ripped in half by a coyote or dog. I found her twisted body on a path through the woods behind my house and realized a blood~curdling scream of pain I’d heard out the window from that direction nights before must have been her last, excruciatingly~painful moments on this Earth. We buried her in the back yard.

Though I completely lost sight of the bliss and joy I’ve known these many years, I knew from experience that not only was this a lesson I was meant to learn during Door Nine, but that the Dark Night of Soul has always been followed by a period of great peace and change in my life. As removed from flow as I was, I knew without a doubt that I would come out the other side a better person. Not only that, but keeping a scientific mind throughout was fascinating; observing how our state of mind literally warps the world around us to reflect it. Frowns where there were once smiles. Coldness where there was once warmth. Isolation, hopelessness, a disconnect with nature, humans and the energy from which we are derived. It is this that I call materianimus, the manipulation of physical matter by thought to reflect the inner state.

So many people exist in such malcontent states every day of their lives. It was not something I was perceiving but a physical change, a literal change. This fact is undeniable, I can see it evidenced in how beautiful the world seems when I feel beautiful and how ugly it can be when I feel ugly. If you remain aware enough, you can observe that, more than mere perception, the world does, indeed, mould itself to your whim.

But I’ve seen what’s Next. In the midst of it I realized that I could either continue on in utter misery or I could reach for something, anything greater. I began living in Door Nine,


Solstice, by Füssli

returning myself to silence with every thought. I began making mental lists of all the things going right in my life. My Other. My children. My father’s continued survival. My house. The pets still alive. I began to replace fear of what would happen next with possible hopeful futures, wildly daydreaming with no consideration for “realistic” guidelines and boundaries (which we don’t really need to begin with). I clung to every little beauty for dear life: falling leaves of autumn, colourful sunsets or sunrises, the worried smile of my Other. I began listening to YouTube talks from the masters once more. Even if the wisdom given seemed shut to me, I allowed it to drum on along in my background.

We always have a choice. No matter how hopeless things get, every single moment we have a choice to reach for any patch of light we can find that does not reflect and feed the darkened state within. The instinct is to gather everything to you that matches the emotions within. To go against that sometimes takes every drop of focus you can manage to muster.

My journey was as most human journeys go; the painstaking and near~blind gathering of practically nonexistent bread crumbs from a midnight forest floor littered with leaves, leading away from the mouth of the wicked witch’s gingerbread house. Depression is akin to a gingerbread house. As painful and terrifying as it is, it calls you to lose yourself in it. Succumb to it. But to reject or deny it is a trap door in tree roots, dropping you directly into the witch’s feeding cages. To deny it is to say you shouldn’t be feeling the way you are feeling.

My mind would swoop in with bared claws and close around me. Every time I could think of it I would let them go, cut them off in mid~sentence, with an acknowledgment of emotions if not silence. Returning to silence a million times a day. Returning to the Ninth Door. I would lay near the koi pond and stick my finger in the surface of the event horizon. The energy from my body causes it to vibrate, creating waves that do not move out but stay fixed around my finger. My face is devoid of pain in its reflection, that me who has never known suffering.

You don’t need a Ninth Door. Silence is enough. Watching the storm pass overhead without getting swept up in it. A tornado comes and carries you away. Blind again, lost again. You find yourself once more on the ground. Swept up, on the ground, swept up again. It feels hopeless for much less time than you would think. In fact, the moment you begin reaching for solid ground some of the pain eases, and when you feel that bad, any tiny bit of relief is the difference between survival and ruin.

In a week I was experiencing days filled with that nameless, tear~less peace and Oneness with the cosmos. It has been many weeks since that first week of freedom and I’m light enough again to feel the doors thrown wide, access to the All That Is. It seems like everything that dissolved in my life and others close to me is resolving itself. Synchronicities abound.


One night I went to the Ninth Door, laying beside the koi pond as my physical body was laying to sleep. I thought to myself that when I went to sleep I wanted to connect with my dead cat, to see where she had gone. To my surprise she appeared in the reflection, standing on my back. I was overwhelmed and called her name, but when I reached for her she ran away.

Suddenly I found myself on the white beach of that rainwater lake that holds the Doors. She was standing on the path ahead of me, looking at me with that curious look she always had. When I went to her she ran away a distance, then turned to look at me again. In life, she would do this when she wanted me to follow her somewhere. I followed her into the rainforest, to the dwelling place of the indigenous Dreamtribe, the Orang Asli, or Senoi Indians native to Malaysia. I had been in the area once before.

When I entered the clearing I found her eating at a bowl beside a woman sitting at a fire. The woman was very old, with few teeth and stringy black hair that looked strangely American-style; shoulder length and curling inwards. She was very thin, and skin swung back and forth from her bony arm as she stirred the contents of a pot on the fire. I looked in it to see yams and fish parts boiling together in water. The woman had taken a chunk of the yam and some white fish flesh and mashed it together with a stone on a small, wide wooden plate. My kitty friend loves it.

Time began to move forward then and I was allowed to see her daily life with the tribe. She loves chasing small rodents through the rainforest. She runs ahead of the men walking on the path between camps. She follows the women to the lake to wash their clothes or draw water, and laps from the surface of it. She is so happy and healthy. When I awoke the next morning, all pain of her passing and the violence of her death was gone from inside me, and has not returned.

Many changes have come over me during this time of the Ninth Door. I’ve had three experiences with apparitions and ghostly figures. I’ve had dreams which feel prophetic, and old prophetic dreams are resurfacing and living themselves out. Through a dream of silver and blue I have connected to a woman that used to live on Earth but does no longer. She left us music from the Next, which she tapped into before she left.

But the most exciting part is that I can Go to the Nowhere inside Door Nine and, there, can experience a more concrete focus than ever before. It is a place I run to when negative thought patterns overtake me, a place of instant solace from the sickness I create with my mind. You cannot know how sick you are until you become well again. Most people don’t even feel the sickness anymore, as they literally poison themselves and the world with negative thought patterns. We believe every single word we tell ourselves, and our personal worlds each reflect the belief that moulds them.

Once you regain control over your mind, you can notice negative thought processes and remove yourself from them. When you pull out you can feel it: muscles relax, your body instantly stops hurting, your stomach settles, your headache goes away. The mental and physical dis~ease that doctors and society tell you are incurable become bearable, or go away completely. Every breath can be a joy and a gift, and no matter what your life situation is you are not an exception to that rule… unless sickness and ruin were what you had planned for yourself. Even in such a life there is necessary movement.

Through re~training the mind to accept each moment just as it is, can we begin again. There are trees out your window and clouds in the sky. Every person you are surrounded by, with their many gifts and challenges, are there by your design! There is work to be done, games to play. Joy to be had. Sorrow to help ease. Even what’s inside, such as emotions we feel, are true. It’s what we tell ourselves about truth that is where things go wrong. It is these lies that create sorrow in us and in the world.

To use our innate and long~forgotten power of materianimus is to reshape the physical world to benefit ourselves and others. It is this that the Ninth Door has instilled in me to continue perfecting.


When Things Fall Into Place

Music Making

P. I ~ When Things Fall Into Place

Pt. II ~ Choose Your Diversion

Pt. III ~ The Endurance of Aeons

I can feel a definite progression in the potency and length of euphoric epiphanies that follow harder lessons. I have noticed that when I feel like what is happening to me is out of my control, it gets out of control quickly. No matter how out of control life seems to become, accepting it just as it is, for exactly what it is, diffuses the situation and turns the tide. The more difficult the situation is to accept, the more euphoric the act of accepting it becomes.

It’s nice when you’re a Zen master and you can hold yourself steady, but for most of us there’s the roller coaster rise and fall, with in~between times that are made up of simply living (which is all that any of it is, anyway).


It seems that the hardest challenges of life are usually indicators of the final moments of a particular era. Before I discovered how incredible this very human life could be I wasn’t sure what the purpose of living was, and I can imagine that many people feel that way.

This particular euphoric time has lasted a couple of weeks. I went to work as usual, listening to Alan Watts on headphones. When I listen consistently to those who have tapped into the silence, I get quiet and still and open inside, filled with an Innerlifeenergetic bliss. Most of us are walking around literally blocked off inside, like a electrical wire that has been cut. You can feel your body buzzing when you’re empty enough to have room to be filled. Things look different, feel different, as if you’re alive for the first time. People who once caused you pain soften in your presence or make kind gestures they never would have before, and you realize that it’s because you have released them from the prison your opinions of them have created.

Everything, even inanimate objects, seems to have its own life, which you can feel a new~found respect for. Traffic works in your favor. Money begins to flow from directions you never would have imagined, but if it doesn’t you don’t even worry about it because you know that even falling is heading a direction.You can literally feel the design, everything working in accordance with the whole.

Even after this euphoric time had faded, miracles continued to occur, more precise than I could even have planned them. The day we didn’t have money to buy potatoes, tuna and paper towels, grandmother dropped by and brought us all of those things, along with the coffee I had only secretly wished for but never put on the list. And this is the least of examples.

We’re so used to thinking that we’re supposed to get out there and do something to make our lives better, but that isn’t how we were made at all. When things come together it may appear to be something we did or even luck, when in fact it was due to our attitude towards life and how open we were to letting things flow as they will.

Humans tend to be terrified of not being able to control everything and we tend to learn things the hard way. Without consistent and deliberate focus on all the things that come together, life certainly appears to be in a state of constant decay. It’s because we have been programmed to believe that the negative is what we should focus on, and that the positive is something unattainable. Because the people in control do not have the common man’s interest in mind, it seems as if there is no point in hoping for something more.

Sometimes I have a physically negative reaction to letting go of the concept of having control. I watch my brain reject notions to trust that whatever comes will be as I have designed it. Once we see the pattern, that whatever happened, no matter how “good” or “bad”, was what we needed to progress, it’s easier to let go.

In this most recent era, once I became still and peaceful enough inside, that energetic bliss began to flow and my consciousness began to expand. During work I went about my business as if lost in a dream, yet I was more able to do my  job with greater clarity.


When I got home from work I would go outside and sit in my flower garden beneath the tallest tree and put a particular song on repeat, Veneficum’s “Endurance of Aeons” which I share later in this post. I would spend an hour staring up at the cosmos, which had replaced the place the sky should have been. Waves of pure ecstasy, which I have only ever experienced out~of~body, washed over me. I was beyond silence, beyond this life. I could see the entire universe and could feel myself as a part of it until I no longer was “I”, rather, “It”. Every single living thing on this planet and any other, as well as those things we believe not to have life, were equally me, and I was equally them, and together (if it could be said that we were separate to begin with) we were all It.

For a week there was no sky, only the universe that I explored every day after work. It is difficult to explain this, because my exploration of the universe was not a movement on my part, rather the universe would come to me; sitting in my plastic chair, staring beyond the precipice of the tallest tree, all I had to do was imagine moving through the universe and it would be so, though it was the universe that moved and not I.

Nightsky Universe

It wasn’t merely the moments in my garden to the music that were filled with such an ecstasy, though it most often washed over me while the music was playing. I’m still not sure why this particular music called such a euphoria home, but the entire album kept it flowing. When I was not listening to the music (which was rare for at least a week), I was swimming in the utterly blissful silence of that universe which I knew myself to be a part of, a universe I could feel every single molecule of.

As with previous mystical experiences, I found myself having the ability to live the entire life span of any object or soul in the universal ocean. In this state time was utterly meaningless, as was distance. Billions of years went by in the blink of an eye, and all knowledge was available to me though I could not write it or speak of it, which I will go into more detail about later.

It was my intention when I created this website to prove that any one of us can have these experiences, we need only reach for them.  It’s so hard to imagine being everything at once, being able to be anything or anywhere, moving forward and back across the timeline as you well please. It’s hard to believe that it’s possible, until catching a glimpse of what being human means from a soul’s perspective, and considering how long infinity really is.

These are the gifts we gave ourselves as diversions from the malleable illusion that surrounds us! What’s Out There can and should be explored. If we had never physically matured from birth to adulthood, we would only be able to see a part of the spectrum of what’s possible to experience as a human. I remember when my daughter re~visited the elementary school she grew up in. “It’s so small! I remember it being so big.” In that same way, without seeing what is Next, it is typical of us when human to forget that anything else exists.

I can imagine that this euphoria might be what a Zen master experiences all the time, once the mind is silenced and the energy of Everything is flowing constantly through the body. You will often see depictions of these rare people with a smile and a glimmer in their eye, as if they know something we do not. We imagine that being them means that we are quiet inside, that our thoughts no longer control our lives and our interactions with others. But silence is not just silence, as these Winkingzenmoments remind me when they occur. Magic exists, and what awaits us is so much more incredible and euphoric than we can even begin to comprehend. The irony is that once such magic is experienced there is little ability to relay that experience to others; either because they could not or would not believe it, or because it goes so far beyond language’s ability to describe it. As you’ve heard from any number of teachers, to cease to think or speak about a thing and become it is where the magic is at. Everything falls right into place, and it’s easy to see that nothing is ever permanent, that no reality is set in stone.

Why do spiritual teachers rarely talk about their daily mystical experiences? Firstly, because when you are being something you can’t talk about it. Secondly, because they do not focus on the ecstasy or the mystical experience. Neither of these are a stopping place, but a waysign that you are headed in the right direction. Pure ecstasy and flying through the cosmos at will aren’t the end of this tale, and that has been very clear to me throughout this experience. Believe it or not, an experience more ecstatic than pure ecstasy is living this life exactly as it is, accepting it exactly as it is. It seems difficult to comprehend, but this exact life that you are living now could be the most amazing mystical journey you have ever known.

To be honest, you reading this right now are all that has heard this tale from me, because I want to keep my diary going, to chart any new territory I can. Usually when such a time takes place I will share it with my Other as it occurs, but at the time the experience was too profound for words. Even now that it is over I find I do not speak of it in detail to those who know me.

I feel like this inability to share my experience with others is proof that I have taken a step in the right direction, because we can talk or listen all we want, but until we become what we are talking about or listening to, it’s not really getting us anywhere. I never understood it when teachers said that until now.

This era actually began weeks ago, emerging from days of listening to Eckhardt Tolle and Alan Watts on Youtube. Slowly my pure vinegar state, spoken of in the previous post When Things Fall Apart, faded and I found myself once again in the grasp of that undying knowledge that all is well, always and in all ways.

Then my closest friend sent me an album via email and the music intensified my experience. I found the songs building inside me, each epic ending adding to the symphony of life around me, enhancing nature in all its unbridled glory. Have you ever listened to music that seemed to make nature come alive? It was so.


All natural life visibly changed before me. Rocks and leaves were kaleidoscopically symmetrical. Birds flew together in geometric shapes. The tallest tree in the garden which I mentioned earlier was a prime object of the music’s desire.

“…wind blows through two groups of leaves side by side at its summit. I call them the Sisters. They echo each other, responding to the song with movement from the wind. They blow in time to the beat, tens of thousands of leaves all moving in their own dances, touching each other or moving away, all perfection. Butterflies are mating this time of year and their chaotic circling mirrors the butterfly~heartbeat of the bass drums. I thought of that beat as a butterfly heart long before the garden, but magic now provides real butterflies to go with the music, one of a billion small gifts that being able to comprehend my cosmic ancestry allows.

“To that song in the garden I return to Stillevarden, in the process of exploring beyond the familiar beach to the east and beyond.

“My mind is absolutely still, fixed in one point while everything else moves around it. I become immersed in swoons of epiphany, when answers to life’s greatest questions are all revealed yet I am too silent inside to pen any of it down. The writer in me, as well as the ego, wants to capture each one of the most brilliant and unique concepts I’ve ever connected with, but to put pen to paper would end the moment, because I am truth itself.  So much of this ecstasy cannot be shared, nor brought back to hot soil upon my return.

“We all have this gift, it is our legacy as part of Everything. We can access all knowledge if we get quiet enough. An unnameable ecstasy washes over me in waves as I look out over the entire universe. I can’t see the blue of the sky, only the black of space and every single thing in it. Being it. Overwhelmed. At total peace. Taken and in tears for the utter bliss I am experiencing, but liquid never touches my cheeks. Over and over the song takes me there. Over and over I am all that exists, all at once, rapt in the absolute endlessness of eternity and what that means.

“Everything around me begins to melt into me. I become part of everyone I meet. Total acceptance, total understanding. People blossom like flowers in my presence, becoming their most beautiful parts because of the great space inside me. During eras such as this of feeling the Oneness of all things, I can’t help but be in inner tears to witness how being Everything flows through me to others. It’s never anything I am, or anything I am doing, it’s that I am an empty vessel filled with light, and that I’m being still enough to reflect the cosmos. People aren’t seeing me, but that part of the universe that is inside them. They are seeing their own beauty through me.”

You may wonder what the point of being able to access all knowledge is, if we cannot bring any of it back with us. This experience has happened to me several times, yet I am not rich, I have not solved world hunger and I do not know the cure for cancer. While there are people that have tapped in and brought inventions and cures back with them, I am neither focused nor disciplined enough to put any piece of knowledge into action.

So…what’s the point, then? When considering a puzzle, each piece, alone, makes no sense. It’s not until the entire puzzle is seen completed that the full picture can

When It Comes Togetherbe viewed. The ego says that we need to see signs and wonders to believe in anything mystical, that we have to bring something back with us to prove where we’ve been, but once you are flooded with universal truth, the big picture is that you are okay, just as you are. You are doing exactly as you should be, and so is every other thing in the universe. This is the only knowledge that is needed! It is from this vantage point that joy and peace can be attained in this world just as it is, with all its challenges and difficulties. Only then can we be of true benefit to ease the suffering that exists here.

Speaking of suffering…simultaneously with this euphoric time, I began witnessing a surge in serious life~changing events going on with my closest friends. My brother was thrown in prison for 45 years for a crime he did not commit, shaking our family to its core. A friend of mine that suffers from severe depressions hit a bad patch and began hearing voices again. My brother~in~law faced possible prostate cancer and my sister contracted a strange lung virus that wouldn’t go away. Her son, a nephew that is also like a son to me, found himself once more suicidal.

All I could do was listen to any of them that wanted to relay their experience, but because I was writing and listening through the Great Everything That Is, my love had more of a healing affect than it would have otherwise. I could not lament any of them as I would have before, wanting so badly to be able to ease the suffering of those around me yet unable to do so. All I could think was, and is, my god, if everyone could feel this, if everyone could know what awaits…..if they could know what they are…

But even those of us that see where we are headed forget, and often. The general public doesn’t realize what being connected to the Universe means. It sounds like hocus pocus. I’m not one of those people who is unafraid of telling people what I have discovered. Only two people who know me even know this website exists. I hide my true self from all, because I want me to be ME, not people’s opinion of my beliefs. In all honesty, if I were open about myself to everyone and people loved me, I would help dispel the definite categories that people have for people like me. I’m afraid of rejection just like everyone else.


Sometimes I wonder at why we have been taught the exact opposite of the truth; that we are unique to the universe, separate from everything else. We can’t even feel the connection anymore, we’ve become so blocked off from it by focusing solely on our physical existence. We think that natives and aborigines who still believe these things are beautiful, but that knowledge doesn’t seem to be for us anymore. We are unhappy and have forgotten why.

However, once we tap in to the grand scheme, as I have these past weeks, we see that every single action in the universe is for a purpose. Not only that, but we can feel that even the suffering was planned by us. How many times do we suffer stomach flu, only to appreciate the taste of a simple bowl of rice afterwards? What would be the point of all this if there were no point to it?

Now the feeling is fading. When I listen to the song it doesn’t open the universe to me as it once did. However, I am left with the reminder that I’m on the right path, doing exactly as I should be doing. We have a tendency to feel like we are somehow holding ourselves back…and that very well may be true. We blame ourselves for not meditating more, for not having more mystical experiences. All that is pointless. Sometimes even holding ourselves back is what was meant, as we remember when things come together.

Pt. II ~ Choose Your Diversion

Due to my brother’s incarceration I’m considering writing a petition for his release to be displayed on Change.org, so I’ve been there a lot recently, signing petitions on all sort of subjects. I saw one the other day about a young woman named Mary who suffers from something called myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome. The symptom list is long and basically adds up to having your life stolen from you, removed of every ability to be a normal human being. Zero energy mixed with debilitating pain, topped with the inability to find a doctor that believes there’s anything wrong…and that isn’t even doing the horror of her condition justice. Despite her 25 pills a day, Mary is still suffering.

Please go visit Mary’s WordPress page and sign her petition, to help her raise awareness of ME/CFS. It takes about five minutes.


In a post on her site, Mary gives her email address along with the comical query for anyone who knows the answer to the question of life to email her. No one can give her that answer because every life is its own universe, and something tells me that Mary knows that already. Due to my present state, seeing everything at once in my universe, that answer is clear to me; that she, like myself, have come into this life to experience pain that cannot be cured by common medicine. We have come into this life to know what it means to be judged for reasons seemingly out of our control.

What would make any more sense than to consider that we chose this? If not, then someone or something is doing this to us. What would that be? How can control or creation not be our legacy, when the entire rest of the universe works as it should, by its own rules?


As Mary, I question the truth of not only my own, strange sickness, but myself in the process. As with myself, I see Mary as one integral piece of the big picture of why we are all here and why every life makes perfect sense, just as it is. Is there some Ultimate Truth that can be shared by all?  Could there be a possibility that in Mary’s reality, she is not the Universe expressing itself as a human? The very body that imprisons her is formed from the same composition as the oldest galaxies that we can observe.

We don’t watch a supernova explode and think “Omg, that star didn’t handle living very well.” We don’t see a meteor headed our way and think “That so~and~so, how dare it threaten us!” The universe is as it is, its death and life, all the occurrences that we observe are simply…occurrences. We accept all of it without question. But when our lives are seemingly taken away from us by mysterious ailments that most doctors don’t even believe in, we can feel that we’ve been put upon, beset by a fate out of our control, subject to an untruth, something that should not be. I am no exception most days. The helpless feeling comes and goes, exacerbated by others opinions of me.

When humans see something that we don’t understand, such as a person that should be totally normal and healthy but has a sickness that makes them look like a lazy person who has given up on life, we judge them harshly. We take being human so personally, and personal means dual. Separate.

In my universe there is nothing separate. That’s what I’m experiencing right now with this song and the garden and Everything. It’s impossible to convey in any words that do it credit. The butterfly mating dance IS the double bass of the drum, which IS the trajectory of the rogue planet fifteen million light years away and the black hole that it passes, slowly changing its course to be eaten and spat out again as another group of molecules, or the beginnings of another universe entirely.

In those moments that Mary is most happy, on her best days, she is closer to that great Everything. ME/CFS is how Mary’s little speck of the universe is experiencing being human. Maybe she came here to know what it was like to help others, and the way that she’s helping others is to have a sickness no one believes is real, so that she can raise her voice for all those who are too afraid or sad to speak out for themselves. None of us can know. Mary probably doesn’t even know why she came to do this. For all my mystical experiences I don’t know why I have chosen incurable pain for myself. All any of us can do is live the best we can and have as many happy moments as we can claim.

The Dalai Lama is exiled from his own country of Tibet, forced to live in a place that is not his home. Yet he accepts this life, lives it in the best possible way and helps millions of others in the process. While it’s easy to think he has a pretty sweet life, we may have no idea the pain he feels. He just never talks about it because his focus is not self~centered as my own. My own life with all its aches and pains is sweet compared to a young boy in Thailand who sleeps on a filthy concrete floor and spends his days being trafficked for sex. Pain is relative, and if the Dalai Lama had spent his years whining about his life it wouldn’t have been so sweet. He is my hero many days when the pain keeps me bed~bound.

Short of being a Zen master, all we can do is divert our attention from our own suffering long enough to catch one of those euphoric moments. Most of us don’t notice that when something really good happens in our lives (or even really bad), many of our aches and pains lessen or go away entirely. I’ve always thought it was funny that every time I get seriously ill with diverticulitis and am in bed for days, my back and joints don’t hurt, and the pillow doesn’t make my neck feel broken as usual. Instances like that prove to me that there’s more to this pain business than we realize.

I’ve often used the metaphor of a person walking happily down the sunny street who gets a phone call saying that their mother died. Suddenly the sun is too bright, or it gets darker. The world literally changes around them to reflect their inner feelings and emotions.Maybe the headache, which didn’t seem like a big deal before, suddenly begins to throb and becomes unbearable. There are a million little indicators each day that our attitude changes everything, but I’ve learned first hand that having a good attitude doesn’t cure us, no matter how much we think we want to be cured.


As for euphoric times, the more mystical moments we have the worse the bad times feel, and we find that the drive to keep from having bad times is stronger. As humans we basically have to be so down and out that we come to a place where we simply cannot do it anymore. Then we come to that place a thousand more times before something inside of us decides that we are done experiencing a certain thing. No one can judge us for how long it takes to get there.

Edgar Cayce quote 1

Each of us walk our own path in our own way, in our own time, to our own beat. Something inside me may very well continue to feel like a cripple that can’t be cured, and I’ll be a cripple for the rest of my life. I don’t want that to be true, but no amount of hating being a cripple, and thusfar no amount of mystical experiences has cured me, though I can say the Eckhardt Tolle “Using Presence for Pain” technique has revolutionized my pain (see the post Ending Physical Pain“). Just the other day I cut the time I was doomed to be in bed in half, a great accomplishment for not being able to see, to walk or to stop throwing up. Days that bad are destined to last 24 hours or more, but I’m changing that. Even when I look really sick on the outside, since employing this technique I have not cried once, nor wished I was dead, as I have so many times before. That, in itself, is amazing.

In those beautiful moments when life looks bigger than my sickness, when it seems there is meaning to my suffering, I dream that maybe there’s a chance for aViking ship different life. While it is common for religion to be the choice diversion for many humans, “god” doesn’t have to be our choice. Most people don’t realize that the universe reaches out to each person in their own style.

When I first met what people call God, It was the sun, ushered in by my master as a Viking ship sailed into its light. I love all things Norse, why would “God” not reach out to me through all the symbols that mean joy to me, the very thing that It is made of?

And so my diversions are symphonic black metal. Coffee. Ecstasy. Are each of them just as powerful a trap as suffering? Yes, because the Middle Way is neither joy nor sorrow, but simply Being. We can be addicted to the small, “guilty” pleasures, or highs or lows, but those are the illusions of joy, not the point of this thing we call life. This euphoric time that I’ve been through was only a marker to remind me what comes Next.

After the euphoric times were over I didn’t come crashing down like I used to, I kind of floated to the ground. The song doesn’t affect me in the way that it used to. I’m looking at my fellow humans as something separate from me again, but I’ve retained the memory of being one with that Great Everything. It’s something inside me that won’t ever die, an understanding I will continue to wake up to over and over.


Spiritual teachers will tell you that time does not exist, and that living in the here and now is the greatest gift that we can give ourselves. They are right. Yet here we are, having created this thing that helps us differentiate one moment from the “next”. The Next is itself just a symbol, representing a future moment that will be Now.

In our minds time does exist and, lost in moments, we drown in sleep long before we realize we are no longer awake. It’s something that happens to us over and over as we learn how to stay awake longer and longer. While living in the present moment is the absolute best way to divert ourselves, the simple fact is that without knowing the outcome, many of us don’t know what to strive for. It’s why I elucidate the mystical experience like I do. Without having glimpsed the reason for all suffering, I may have been resigned to pain without any hope of a future.

I got lucky, we shall say, though that is not true. I called an ancient master that I didn’t even believe in, and He came. That’s not to say that it was not time for this to happen in my life, obviously it was or my sister would never have given me the Eckankarbook that told how to summon Him, or I would have never read it because the word God appeared too many times for my then atheist tastes.

Exploration is only one of infinite ways to divert ourselves, and what works for one will not work for others. Our challenges are what we use as contrast to what feels good and what does not. We can use the smallest physical forms such as caffeine addiction, or greater forms such as coming into a world of severe abuse. We can choose mental states like autism and schizophrenia, so inner~world intensive that a person can not even interact with those around them. We can choose to be able to interact with the world but be isolated from it.

I’ve been with my master for over ten years and I’m only now beginning to learn how to begin the process of dealing with my pain. It is a process that could take years more. There must be something I have yet to learn from it, as unhappy as I may be about that.

As with Mary, there’s something tragic and heart~wrenching about looking around and seeing everyone living a normal life and know that you can’t. Going to the grocery store, playing tennis. Unlike Mary, I can go to the grocery store without problems, but I can’t garden, mow the lawn, take long walks or exercise to lose weight. We are learning the greater or lesser degrees of being left behind by the world, being isolated from making all our dreams come true. I have certainly thought to myself, “If this pain was done there’s nothing I couldn’t accomplish!” Maybe once I learn my lesson that’s exactly what I’ll go out and do, but for now I’m being grounded by myself, might as well make the best of it, and I’m heartened by the way Mary lemonades the hell out of her lemons. For now, I can rest in the knowledge that I did this to myself for a damned good reason, even if I don’t know what that reason is. Mary is living her life with her own style. She’s living life like the Dalai Lama. He isn’t someone special, he’s the part of she and I that figured out the pain part, at least as much as any human can.

In the language of the common man I’ll give some advice. For now, use time to your advantage. Use whatever makes you happy to divert your attention away from your thoughts and your suffering. If your diversion hurts you in some way, keep in mind that you are paying a price for being diverted. The ultimate goal is to get to a place joyful enough that you don’t need diversion anymore.

Sometimes you’re just going to fall apart, and sometimes you won’t. The more you divert yourself, the higher a vibration you hold your physics at, the more of a chance you’ll have of experiencing a euphoric time. The more of those times you have the more powerful they get, and the more powerful they get the more “coming down” feels less like the direction you want to go. Sometimes that process takes years, or even a lifetime. But one day you’ll have an epiphany that everything is just like it’s supposed to be, and that knowing that can make it okay. Only when you accept that can you feel the utter bliss of making each next moment a now, accepting each now just as it is.

Pt. III ~ The Endurance of Aeons

Note to self and others: stop judging the ways in which we divert ourselves! Music that’s spiritual for some is a cacophony to others, as you’re about to find out. Most people would not listen to the music that makes a cosmos of me and think it was good for anything but devil worship when, in fact, it is what put me on this path in the first place.

Imagine the worst song on the radio that you can think of, one that makes your eye twitch every time it comes on. There is someone out there that gains great strength and healing from that song, someone who has been changed forever by Radio Pie Chartwhat that frivolous, seemingly~meaningless song has meant to them. Golf looks boring to me, but there’s someone out there flying through the cosmos as they are walking along the golf course from hole to hole. I don’t like to think about people dressing like everyone else because it makes them fit in, but every human alive wants to fit in, and some are so bruised and alone that they would do anything in their power to be noticed, accepted. Loved. How dare I make a judgment about that!

If you don’t like one spiritual teacher, that means that there’s another one out there suited for you. So often I hear spiritual people talking down about the new age “Law of Attraction” community, or the Klemp Eckists (which I, myself, am guilty of). Eventually, we find that every spiritual teacher is simply stating a personalized part of the same whole, and we realize that what we are searching for is Within. It sure helps having many tools at our disposal until then.

We read books, we listen to music. We shop excessively or gossip. Or we do hard drugs, or kill someone. Depending on how low we are we’ll go to all sorts of extremes to feel better, and feeling better is key. Does that mean that it’s okay to kill someone or do hard drugs? How do you think you got here? Lifetimes ago you experienced what hate and horror were like, and you learned that part. You don’t need that anymore, you’re purified. You’re up ahead on that part of the path, just as the Dalai Lama may be ahead of you on the Painless Way. Or not. He just turned 75, he may have arthritis in his knees from sitting like that all the time. And then again, he may not.Dalai Fart

Whatever diversion we choose, this is a neverending process. Eventually you won’t need diversion anymore. Eventually, when your used to living in the present moment, you can drop the diversions and get on with life. We’re going against all the odds here! We are un~learning what falsities have been learned, reprogramming ourselves to remember what’s been lost.Eckie Tolle talks a lot about how our pain is in our DNA, something that we’ve carried for a very, very long time. It takes time to get rid of it. Or it can take one second. Our choice.

If you’re into eating a whole box of chocolate when you’re sad, stop bludgeoning yourself over the head about it and just enjoy it! My personal addiction is food, and as “spiritual” as I get, I can’t shake the obsession with it. If it’s something you can’t seem to control, stop fighting against it and work on accepting that part of you. It’s not able to be controlled because it’s trying to be accepted. “But what if I accept that part of me and then gain 100 lbs?” you ask? I asked that too. We don’t want to be one of those people walking around that stuffs themselves in tiny little clothes they shouldn’t be wearing, because they don’t care what others think of them. I say they are my heroes, every one. And besides, the more I accept myself the more weight I lose.

Reach for the better feeling thing every chance you get.

And so, without further ado, and to prove just how different our cosmic diversions can be, here’s the song that ushered in this new era of my life. I had to make my own YouTube video for the song because there wasn’t one. It’s my first video ever so it’s blurry and not very good, so bear with me. And if you can’t stand to listen to it, turn it down and watch my journey into the cosmos.

When Things Fall Apart


~*in the wordless chamber*~
they feared death
thus they clustered to the fruits of the earth
craving diversion
as if to avoid knowing why

in the wordless chamber
they feared life
thus they proclaimed any given truth
and swallowed
as if to justify their fear

he knew that there had been hordes of seers
before him
who set out to cure
though, the sick wished not to part with
their decease
as if it made them feel

in the wordless chamber
he accepted desperation
and the unpredictable manifestations
of hope


The belief that we each orchestrate the entirity of our experience on planet Earth is still a very controversial one. It’s not hard to understand why. As children, most of us grew up hearing adults talk about cause and effect as something out of our control. As adults it seemed completely natural to point fingers at the cause of whatever negative effect we are [seemingly] subject to. Few of us were raised knowing that each new “problem” is one we’ve orchestrated for ourselves, a tap on the shoulder pointing to what current lesson needs learned. This is key when attempting to continuously incarnate into the weightless joy~state that is natural to the soul.

We’ve forgotten how to use our brains in the way they were meant to be used: as powerful tools that shape matter into forms. We are composers, using many instruments to bring our songs to life. Our judgments and opinions of this world hinder us from seeing what is real: that every instrument in the orchestra is required, “good” and “bad” alike. Much of the time we don’t even realize we have created opinions about something until our body and/or emotions react, as indicators that we have moved out of the natural state of relaxed, thoughtless observation we experience when we feel that all is right with the world.

Our greatest moments and most unique gifts all spawn when we are in this state. We have been so addicted to thought for so long that we have forgotten that we were meant to use thoughts as an instrument, instead of being an instrument of thought. I am no exception.ParavsSympa

Biologically, our parasympathetic and sympathetic nervous systems are meant to be at a balance. The parasympathetic system is that part that releases calming neurotransmitter agents. It is the state that we are supposed to exist within most often. The sympathetic nervous system releases adrenaline~based agents, which were meant for singular situations that arise in our lives, those “fight or flight” moments. For countless years, modern~world humans have been existing in the adrenal states most often, our bodies receiving constant fight or flight alerts due to the stress we have become accustomed to creating in our lives. At this stage we see ourselves as helpless victims and blame our own, created situations or other humans for our unhappiness.

The concept that drew me to Tibetan practice and the Ancient Teachings of Masters (ATOM) was that of laying down our entanglements with others to take up the mantle of self~advancement. As an empath, I was very drawn to the assurance that I could relinquish the need to bear the burden of each human’s grief upon my shoulders. There is a certain and promised freedom in laying down the chains you bind your world with. By chains I mean the categories we put people in, blame we lay on others and the anger that is the outcome of not accepting responsibility for what has happened and is happening to us as exactly what we ordered.

~*The I left behind

The ever~fading I of the moment

The I shifting and bending into the horizon of the unknown*~  ~~Starofash

Once we comprehend that we are the composers of our lives, we wax and wane in that knowledge. Sometimes we fall asleep again only to find that we have succumbed to negativity as ego takes control of thought and directs the symphony. Things began to fall apart in our daily lives and we suffer from poverty and pain. It starts off small (though not always) and gradually gets worse and worse until we are left wondering if we can take any more. It is most often once things have become difficult when we remember that it’s all just another composition, with a single instrument off key: ourselves.


That’s what I am learning right now. Today marks the seventh day of yet another debilitating illness. Severe and unexplained stomach cramps have kept me bedridden and doubled over. Doctors cannnot help me. I’ve finally stopped feeling like a failure every time this happens, but it is hard to be patient with myself when the bills are piling up and I’m off work, unsure why I’ve chosen this particular path for myself.

Life Lesson: Profoundly unhappy people enter your life when you’re most in need of learning the lesson of acceptance.

I’ve had a lot of time to think, and have been retracing this sudden bout of ailments back to a particular job I did a couple of weeks ago. I work inside client’s homes for a living. Sometimes I end up spending a great deal of time with the homeowner. My initial conversation with this stay~at~home mother of four caused me to feel at ease. She told me that her own mother was “crazy” but that she had broken the cycle of abuse and created something new for herself and her children. Being a paradigm~change ParadigmChangeenthusiast I replied “Cool! So have I!” But it soon became obvious that she hadn’t come out as unscathed as she believed.

Observing her interactions with her children was like watching a live enactment of my own, painful beginnings. By the end of the second day I had a panic attack, a thing that has not happened to me in decades. Previously~unremembered memories began surfacing. My first instinct was to leave and not come back, but I was contracted to be there for several weeks. Knowing that this woman was a homework assignment I had chosen for myself didn’t keep me from having to do the homework.

I began piling my feelings about my mother onto this woman and could not see beyond them. Because I could tell that we’d been through something very similar yet I alone had come out awake, I internally made her into the criminal and I played the hero, even as I decided I should make peace with her.


From stainedglassbypjs@wordpress.com

When we craft an act of life for ourselves to play we pick our own part, and the other actors perfectly, complete with every nuance of our design. Over the main course of my time with this woman I felt as if I’d made peace with her (and, essentially, my past), but looking back I was reflecting false pride and pity. It was in her nature to reject sympathy and any motions of friendship, thus my resolve fractured.

~*Absorbed in itself all the way down to the ever hushed cry*~ ~~Peccatum

I lost consciousness as a loathing grew inside me towards this woman. I felt “subject” to her constant negative chatter day after day; blaming the world for problems she created herself, taking her anger and resentment out on her family. I pushed against every word that came out of her mouth. My own words to her sounded kind but my heart was lashing out. I became angry at my own mother all over again, then my grandmother for ruining the lives of her children.

Human action can be a poison that, when unchallenged, infects each new generation that it comes into contact with. As well, human action can be the cure, but even with the best Chinua Achebeintentions no positive change will be made if we believe the story we are telling ourselves about the situation.

That’s the hard part about this journey, that we are blind to our true desires and intentions. Had I been able to stay still and silent inside myself, an empty vessel filling with the light of the Beyond, I could have reflected with understanding and deeply touched her. It was compassion that I Thichnhset out to accomplish, but because my basis for action was negative I did little more than simultaneously feed her ego and cause her to dislike me.

Sometimes we simply cannot do it right, too many wounds within us have gone unhealed. If we can’t then we can’t. Nothing can fill us with a joy we don’t have space for. But we must then be prepared to suffer the consequences of our inability. We must allow ourselves to be human.

Over weeks, the anger continued to spread to the rest of my life. I began to draw others to me which caused me to be angry; a friend’s new girlfriend that I don’t like, an old acquaintance at odds with everyone around her. Soon I was not able to sleep for negative thoughts, and waking in the morning in a unnameable state of panic. I found myself complaining about people and being very negative. I can guess I was acting in the very way that I was blaming others for behaving [aah thought, deceiver of the very mirror before me!]. The more my mood spiraled the sicker and sicker I got. Now here I am, bedridden, in pain and forced to watch my love ones worry over me and tend to my needs…and I’ve done it all to myself.

So what is left, once things have fallen apart? What can we do? It is our first instinct to feel sorry for ourselves, to worry, to suffer. This does not have to be the case. We have the choice to either continue to fall apart or to surrender. When things get tough I don’t want to let go of the song I’m composing, but when things get serious I find I have little other choice than surrender to the real tale. The facts do not matter; whose fault it was, what was done wrong. I’m just starting to understand this concept.
Whatever the reason, the solution to the problem is the same. 
This situation is as I have created it. Until I have learned whatever lesson I was meant to learn — at least enough to create a different scenario for myself –I will continue to experience in this way. 

If there is no purpose for pain then the purpose of living in a pain~filled, physical reality is void. Being that I do not believe in a pointless existence I choose to believe that everything happens for a reason, and that this moment is a smaller piece of some bigger puzzle that I am putting together for myself. Therefore, I must trust that everything will turn out okay. A quick recall of past, more intense lessons shows that, indeed, everything has been for a reason, nothing left out. Why would the future be any different?

And what of the fact that there is no future? This moment, for better or for worse, is all that I have. So I say to myself:

“I allow this moment to be exactly what/as it is. I accept it, just as it is. I have created this for myself and it is okay; every part, even the pain and frustration.”If I do not believe these words they will produce no positive results. If that is the case, I must accept that as well. When I choose to surrender everything that I was fighting against I lay down my weapons, my beliefs and excuses and validations and say “I am done.”Tired

There is a difference between surrender and resignation. The image above is resignation, a clear signpost pointing towards a chance for surrender. When things seem to fall apart it is an open invitation to begin again! When everything is wrong, when failure is looming just over the next horizon all we must do is let go of our worries, our fears, our expectations and our fortune~teller tendencies and simply…..aaaaaahhhhhhhhh…. breathe it all out.

Let go. Give up. I don’t pray for myself because I believe that everything is happening just as it should. In my tradition I give it to the master. That’s what “grace” is — something, anything, bigger than you, anything which lifts your burden when your feet are too tired. You don’t have to believe in any god or religion to gain grace. You can surrender your worries and fears to the sky if you wish. Just…don’t hold on to them anymore yourself, say “This is bigger than me.” and let it go.

Once I allow myself to surrender the mood changes, my physical self relaxes, my mind ceases to war inside my skull. It reminds me of that moment in black~and~white movies when the man grabs the woman and she struggles against him dramatically before falling into his Breakingarms for the kiss she really wanted. We, each of us play hard~to~get with joy and surrender, and we don’t skip any steps because we can’t. We must break and crack in the process of shedding the many, weighty layers of belief holding us to the ground before the weightless being of light can fly free.

I’ve managed to mess everything in my life up right now. I’m not happy about it, but I’m no longer angry anymore. This is just a wave, one wave of many. It passes and returns to joy. It comes, it goes, waxes, wanes. All was made right again in some moment in my future when I surrendered.

Surrender feels light, like walking into mist. It can feel really bad to relinquish that Intothemistamount of control once you’re deep in. Especially when I’m in severe pain, the fear is that things will always be this way and that I have no control to change them unless I think my way out of them. But as I take a step into thoughtlessness I find I can see just enough ground beneath me to take another.

This thing that we are is an empty vessel in a constant state of revision. We are the vessel Clay Potand the potter that crafts it, moulding and remoulding our perception of the world based on our current state of thought. We begin weighted, as clay; heavy and made of the soil on which we stand. We don’t require a form yet we build walls with our opinions, our judgments, our beliefs. What meanings we place on certain events and situations and people cause us to react accordingly, colouring us and the world around us.Glass

The thinner our walls the more we are worth to others. With work our grains are rounded, with fire they meld. We become like blown glass, filled by breath and light as a feather, beautiful in our translucence. I must honour every step in the process of refining my grains, thinning my walls, gaining clarity, an ever~finer version of myself on this quest for weightlessness.

This is that process. In our starlit, love~scene minds we imagine that it’s a beautifully tragic process, all done with grace and wisdom. But it’s not like that, it’s this, kicking and screaming, refusing to let go. It should be honoured, every part. I cannot be anything but what I am in this moment unless I believe that I should change. If I cannot change, I shall honour that part of me as well. It’s how we learn.

How will I create anything new of myself until I discover all that I do not desire to be?

Android Jones

“Creativity coming through from formlessness” by Android Jones

Unbearable Beauty: The Perfection of the Design

Cosmic Spiral

The unbearable beauty state was first described by the Buddha. It occurs in those moments when we surrender to the perfection of the design of the universe. It’s not a state that I can hold onto for long. As an acolyte it comes in bursts, between stretches of unconsciousness. The more time we spend being at peace in our minds, going with the flow of this physical experience, the less desire we have to return to the fear that generates depression and anger~based emotions.

Most of us live in pain but want to be pain~free: a desire that is actually a call for pain. Because life does as we command, we are presented with a steady stream of pain, practice problems we work on over lifetimes. We begin to see a pattern and realize that passing each test moves us to other lessons. Life begins to look less like a calamity spiraling out of our control and more like a game we can play to cause any number of desired outcomes.

Eventually we come to the state of Unbearable Beauty, where we can see both the suffering of the world and ourselves as well as the perfection of the suffering in the grander scheme of beauty. We comprehend the often crushing difficulty of the questions even as we experience the simplicity and succor of the answers. This is an odd state to experience, the beginnings of the lonely part of the journey in which most experiences can no longer be shared. You’ll find that a lot of my posts are about this same subject, if under various sub~categories.

This state is equally horrific and exquisite. Having at last stepped away from the self far enough to be able to see the full game as I am playing it, I can also see the other players; all of our hands, through the many masks we wear and pseudo~names we shelve ourselves under. I can see the past: genesis, what caused the masks to be first put in place, as well as the possible futures in which a mask is removed…or not. Often times, it feels like the equivalent of both being an adult that can see the obvious actions of a child and being the child who is obvious to an adult.


Dongahn Quang’s “Swing” 2011

During the initial stages of becoming familiar with Unbearable Beauty, the meaning of the infinity symbol begins to fully sink in, with its realizations of the repeating pattern in which life’s lessons occur, becoming more difficult as certain sections of homework are done and tests are taken and passed. In every instance, stepping back far enough to see the perfection of the bigger design is what causes us to pass to the next level.

And so we must suffer. In my experience lessons don’t take summer sharksholidays, they intensify right out of the gate, so to speak. Every time I become accustomed to swimming in pure bliss, a shark begins to circle. If I attempt to ignore it or try and outwit it, more sharks come. What is happening is life giving me a taste of safe waters so that I will be more tempted to swim faster towards safety.

The lessons in my life this past week have involved long~time friends and relatives. Nothing hurts like pain related to those we love as we find ourselves unable to accept the choices people make for themselves.

Over a couple of year’s time an old friend of mine, to whom I have looked as a guru most of my life, has been revealed to be an intensely angry, bitter and childish person. It is said that the guru should not be judged by his personality, but my interpretations of this event have left me feeling devastated. The pain that his actions have caused me and others close to him have made me feel like I have plenty of justification for my pain. There is always justifications, but in the end we either choose to be in pain or we focus on the larger picture.

Another friend of mine is making the best of an abusive relationship. She’s never known anything better, and this new man is less abusive than any of the others. Needless to say it’s painful to watch her go through, even with her best~possible~attitude. Still, I can find justifications all over the place to allow her suffering to become mine. There are many ways to learn any one lesson, we need not be in abusive relationships to learn something we could learn from healthy ones. Yet, we all attract those like us, so that we all may be given the chance to heal together….or not. “It’s our choice, and no one can say we don’t have the right to make that choice!” my Spiritmother used to remind me.

Cosmic Design

Cosmic Design by S. Chandresekar


That’s the beauty of the design, the unbearable beauty. Perhaps my male friend has chosen bitterness and self~righteousness in this lifetime because his own pain is too great to face. Perhaps my female friend has chosen an abusive relationship to quicken her pace towards freedom. This is their game of chess and this is how they play. They were meant to experience the exact experience they are creating for themselves.

So…what is left for those of us who suffer because of the struggles of our loved ones? If a person’s actions cause us pain we have every right to move ourselves out of the line of fire. But…what is the pain that we feel? It’s nothing anyone else has done to us. In fact, that pain is ego. I need him to be this or that for me. I want her to see the big picture or I wish she would stop choosing punishment for herself. None of these judgments are truly sympathetic to the person they are made against. Neither of them take the current lesson into account, nor the perfection of the design.

McGill Beautypain

Every moment the decision is this: surrender to the pain, surrender to the silence and find that nothing painful truly exists or continue to choose to hurt. Pain is something we do or choose not to do to ourselves. I am completely justified in being hurt by my friends, but I’ve gotten the taste of something much bigger, a state in which I am free and no pain exists. It’s increasingly harder for me to hold on to my opinions and judgments. I’m tired of the pain. I don’t want it anymore.

While working that next morning I listened to this meditation, the Sai Gayatri by Sumeet TetraheTappoo, fighting being overwhelmed when considering the possible futures of my friends. My male friend may very well run everyone that loves him away. My female friend may be trapped in an increasingly isolated and painful relationship whose wounds may take years to heal. With the Unbearable Beauty state comes what is called by many teachers “the Witness”, the deeper self that watches all the Tetraheegames of chess that we play as they occur, no longer being helpless to move forward like pawns, yet not having control enough to play the Queen. I went about my daily work, my soul mourning the loss I felt and what I perceived to be some sort of end to something. But the Witness could only see that I was choosing to be in pain, tetraheeeas if standing on the brink between Heaven and Hell. So I decided to use the Sai Gayatri meditation to its fullest. It consists of an hour of approximately ~15 second instrumental parts with a ~15 second chant between them. I decided to allow myself to mourn through the music, but to use Sumeet’s voice to re~awaken and become conscious, immersed in the unbearable beauty, the yin and yang.

When the music came on I didn’t have to make myself lose focus. I felt like shedding tears. My mind ran in circles, going over every justification I had for why the two should not be doing what they were doing. My back began to hurt along with my feelings. I would completely lose myself in sorrow. It felt as if my soul was weeping. Waves of exhaustion would wash over me. Then his voice would come……


Om, Saayeesh~varaa~ya Vidhmahe,
Sat~hya Dhevaay~a Dheemahi
Thanna~ssarvah ~Pracho~dayaath

and my soul would break free of its physical shell and hover on the very edge of the cosmos, looking out at the infinite string of pearled galaxies, places for infinite physical lives to exist, to suffer and learn how to stop suffering. In those moments nothing existed but the awe and pure ecstasy of the universe and the perfection of the design. In those moments none of the pain existed, nor the forms which it took on.

I continued this until the chant was done, then played it again. By the second time around I had become so light, released from the sorrow, having mourned my fill. Many realizations of why my friends are like they are, which caused me to accept their choices, came to me once my mind was still. I realized that sometimes people need to walk their walk without us by their side, and that is okay. And sometimes friends need us to be there even if we don’t approve of their choices, to allow ourselves to love without judgment. We can only be true to ourselves, whatever that means. Walking away with love is better than staying in resentment. Walking beside without judgment is better than leaving because of love.

It’s a constant process that we partake in, choosing surrender over justification. Choosing faith over untrust in the universe and our fellow man. The Unbearable Beauty of the Sugmad, that god that we are, waves and waves above this realm, experiencing hate and love simultaneously, savoring the taste of each. The image below, made by parablev at Deviant Art, is a place I have been, a journey that can be read in my post Foreversong. Perhaps the symbols are different but we create our gods as we see fit. To be a god is to see the perfection of hate and love, sorrow and joy; to allow others to experience their lives as they see fit and to stop expecting people to live their lives according to our rules. To let go of opinion and judgment and simply BE for the joy of Simplybeing.







Apocalypse, Emergent

Doomsday - Andree Wallin


A thick, poisoned stillness settles over the evening ruins. Lights of the few survivor’s fires gleam from shattered windows like gold coins from between sewer grates. Fear has replaced advancement in the minds of men; for all we thought we would accomplish, our success was rewarded accordingly.

Who survived? Was it the ones that were the most prepared or does chance play its hand in The End? As a child raised in an Armageddon~cult~of~one, thinking that Death’s shroud could cover the world at any moment, I have grown up terrified of being one of those left alive when that elusive End finally came. The Cold War raised me as well, the possibility of surviving a nuclear winter a familiar fear for a new generation.

My siblings and I grew up with a survivalist state of mind. That doesn’t mean we’re prepared for an apocalypse scenario by any means, but we’ve thought about and feared the possibilities most of our lives, along with most humans on the planet.

Every generation fears that it is the last. Religions preach that we’re living in the last days and have driven this message forth every generation for hundreds (possibly thousands) of years. When we look at the grim details of the daily news and the rising troubles of the world we tend to think that the end may, in fact, be sooner than later.


apocalypse_reworked_by_the_strynx-d3c59f9 deviant art

With this post I set out to write about mankind’s obsession with catastrophe, intending to bring us together and soothe our fears. Once the post was written, called The Irrelevant Apocalypse, I thought that was what I had done. Later that day I realized that my words had only mirrored my own anger in the guise of innocence and sisterhood.

For my lack of fear in the face of possible annihilation, people close to me feel that I am out of touch with current events, ignorant to the state of degradation that the Earth has committed itself to. As described above my family consists of those that sleep with one eye open, whole~heartedly agreeing that the world is going down the tubes. Some believe that Armageddon is at our very doorstep in the form of financial collapse, and experts share those fears. I cannot say that they are wrong, simply that how I look at the facts is different.

My personal journey has been to learn to see the perfection in everything, to see suffering as a tool that we use in order to experience all events and emotions. On comprehending the infinite nature of the eternity before us, possible outcomes that before seemed terrifying become one drop in the universal bucket of water. We have guardians and teachers we don’t realize are beside us. We have gifts that are not visible on the outside, strengths that emerge in times of hardest trials. We have abilities that, when honed, can alter the very physics of the world around us, but these abilities can emerge without honing in times of need. We are not taught these innate survivalist skills in school, and over centuries they have become lost to us, deemed unrealistic, taboo and fantastical.

Most people are so adamant about all that is wrong with the world, and are quick to attack anyone who sees things differently. I can certainly understand how preposterous any positive concept of suffering may seem given the current age. As a youngling in the spirit world, everyone’s attempts to share their fear with me has caused me to become frustrated. This fact was painfully obvious in The Irrelevant Universe. The cure for fear is oneness, togetherness, not trying to be right or pushing against. It was my ego that wrote the previous version of this tale, later a slap in the face when returning to its message in my mind. I couldn’t wait to get home and delete it, and when I finally did get online that evening the site wasn’t working. I saw that one person had read it and was horrified (sorry, whoever you were. Hope it didn’t run you off.)

What I meant to say was that we don’t have to fear Armageddon or the Apocalypse. We don’t have to spend our lives biting nails in wait for The End to arrive and worrying because we are not prepared. If our current comfortable way of life does end we will do what we will do, and only those of us who are schooled in the art of survival can imagine what that will look like.

I am not among them. I would suffer the fate of most people in the world. I would be frightened, but I would set out with the intention of weathering the storm by giving of myself as needs arise. I want to be prepared to act with all the grace I can muster, and I’m sure that wouldn’t be much. Realistically, lessons are lessons, and a catastrophic lesson is one much harder than the rest, but the outcome is the same: emerging from the illusions that we’ve built as walls of a fortress we have become blinded behind. If we can keep that in mind whatever our experience, we can remain as present with ourselves and others as possible.

“Rome will fall,” is a time~tested, iconic quote that most people have heard at least once in their lives. Much of the world could name which countries they feel should fall, and my America is no doubt almost unanimously at the top of this list. I, myself, have feared for my country for its cocksure attitude and often naive opinions concerning the true state of world affairs, as material gain and technological addiction take the forefront where personal growth and acknowledgment of our human family should be. However, large~scale economic collapse has historically affected the entire world, not just one country. If this country falls many others will fall as well. No one wants that to happen.

It has become our way as a majority to fight against current events without any solution in mind, or to believe that one solution trumps another and that whatever solutions is ours is the best. Speaking of trumps, I am the least politically~minded person you will meet, yet even I am outspoken recently against the madmen who attempt to take over this country. The few are judged by the actions of the many, and I can understand the outrage that spreads across the globe while considering the catastrophic possible outcomes of coming elections. Yet, I have no idea how to solve this crisis. I can only observe, vote and hope that the world keeps in mind that we are not all like those who wish to speak for us.

Still, it is too easy to be a Republican anti~Democrat or a Baptist anti~Muslim. We have come to believe that if we like chocolate we should hate vanilla. As well, it is easy to turn on the local news and forget that the media makes it a point to lure us in accordingly, especially in America. Bad_News_appliedneuroscienceblogMy mother often tells a story about sitting around a table at an international center with people from Iran, China, Japan and others, being told that our news tells nothing of the truths that exist in the world, that we only see what they want us to. “How can your country not know what is going on in the world?” one woman asked her. She couldn’t answer. No human knows the true scope of the extent to which we are kept blind.

We have become addicted to the dissent and are quick to take sides in order to place blame. It’s what we want when we turn on the TV at night, even as we are shocked by what we see there. If we weren’t we wouldn’t watch. We buy in to our own destruction, our own bad health and our many frivolous misuses of money, yet are outraged by the rise in terrorist attacks, cancer and the lack of money to feed the hungry. We buy in to every fad and fashion in attempts to divert ourselves from the tragedy around us, to make ourselves feel better about living in times such as these.


Dr. William Larkin of the Applied Neuroscience Institute describes it as a “learned non-use of positive thought”.

Daily reports of the economy become our measures for hopelessness.  The power of negativity and negative emotion can teach us “not to use” or “non-use” positive emotions.  We forget to go there.  We forget about positive emotions. Watch enough reality TV, news programs, the continual CNN loop, or most of television in general, and you can forget to feel joy or love or peace.

This type of thinking is the very mouthpiece bringing our tale as human beings to a close. It’s what is drawing any and every possible scenario closer and closer to us. By consistently pointing out the wrongs of the world we are actually ushering in the very apocalypse we fear the most. None of us have what it takes to stop Isis or cure world hunger alone, but by posting social media blogs that point out every new negative occurrence in the world and complaining about the government doing nothing is to reach out to others who share negativity.

Neither should we sit and say nothing when atrocities occur. By making others aware of what is happening and what they can do to help, we are calling on our fellow positively~motivated sister and brothers to pay attention and to do what they can to heal the situation, even if it is in prayer or simply positive focus. When our hearts cry out with love and sympathy or even rage for the suffering of others it is known as compassion. There is a vast difference, yet a fine line, between complaint and causing world awareness. Positive and negative thought on a world scale literally change the world state for the better or worse.


Marilyn Schlitz, VP of Research for the Institute of Noetic Sciences and Senior Scientist at the Research Institute for the California Pacific Medical Center has published some 200 consciousness studies on the power of thought and its effects on suffering.

There are various ways of responding to the unprecedented convergence we now experience. One is conflict; we need only turn on our radios to see how widespread this response is at a global level. Another response is co-option, where one tradition—typically the Western technological, scientifically based rationalist model—overpowers indigenous wisdom, often in very covert ways. A third response takes the form of creativity: As differences come together, we have the opportunity to birth new ideas and new ways of being together as a collective humanity.

Dr. Schlitz does double~blind studies of research on those with cancer and AIDS, showing concrete evidence that, whatever the affiliation or denomination, prayer and meditation literally alter sickness for the better. If we can reverse cancer with positive thought towards our human family, what can we destroy on a global scale with constant negativity towards them?

I have grown up without television and newspaper, but these days I don’t have to have either to hear about all that is wrong in the world. The state of the planet has only ever progressed “downhill”, as any elder is quick to tell you. Advancements in technology make others suffering more accessible to all and so it is more visible than ever.

What is happening now is more of the same, a larger scale due to a larger population. There are more evil~doers in the world because there are more people. But there are also more people that want to do good than ever before, as well as more resources and advancements that cause us to be able to reach a larger number of those who need help. The news does not report these stories as much, and though most people consider this common knowledge, the inundation of media into everyday society causes us to lose sight of just how mislead we are.

Just because television shows only bad news does not mean that there is only bad news out there. Look at your own life, Reality_thattechchickmake your own decisions. Do you know firsthand what’s going on in other countries or do you depend on the news to tell you? In the Sudan, a woman can still be raped in the road and no one says a word, but history shows that this used to be a common occurrence everywhere. In downtown, thriving Budapest, rich executive women use their expensive high heels to kick starving, homeless children in the stomach while cursing at them. History shows that most children worked like adults in factories and on farms (and many died because of the work) not two hundred years ago.

We rely on experts to tell us these things, yet a sad truth is that we can no longer trust experts to give us an unbiased view. Global warming, economic collapse, overpopulation, we hear horror stories every day and are quick to form Overpopulation Worldopinions and take sides against one another, but can any one of us turn back the clock and reverse the process enough to make a difference?

Some studies suggest that overpopulation is just one more point of panic, that the Earth would be able to sustain us if not for our misuse of it. Whatever the case, there is less land and natural resources, less money to house and feed us, less jobs to give us hope. We have under~educated our children on how to be good to the Earth and now we are all complaining about the outcome of our mistakes and looking for someone to blame.


dubai_ruins_by_jonasdero-d1x0g24 deviant art

By our actions, this is the future we have all asked for. It’s the future we are all asking for every day as we fret and worry about the state of the world and our helplessness to avoid catastrophe. We are young souls, ignorant and selfish, drawing on our inherent childlike nature in all the wrong ways. In attempting to satiate ourselves and remove ourselves from suffering we have put ourselves directly in the line of fire.

Everything that we suffer has all been for a good cause, to make ourselves feel good, to nurture that which has been neglected. Every terrorist act, every murder is done with a genuine and unconscious desire to take actions that will result in feeling better inside, a warped view of protecting ourselves or others that has become twisted and unrecognisable in the violence and bloodshed.

Whatever is to come, it will be like iron in the fires of igneous change, melting those who resist it and refining those who wish to learn its lesson. I do not believe that, were Armageddon to come at last, those who ended their own lives would be wrong. Nor do I feel that those who survived at all costs wouldn’t wish they were dead every waking moment of such a hellish existence. Until that moment comes, there is no point in worrying one moment about it. What will be will be. We will do the best we can.

I own the movie The Road, and I make it a point to watch it at least once a year. It is the fate I fear the most, to be starving and alone, forced to stay on the move and to trust no one. I watch it not to be scared by it but to honour those billions around the world who have already experienced catastrophe. There are so many whose entire way of life ended, and once the hype died down the media moved on to the next top story as they continued to suffer.  The people of this planet experience Armageddon over and over again. Lives are torn apart and sewn back together, too many to name, each equally devastating to those who survived it. The world doesn’t have to end for people to lose everyone they’ve ever loved and everything they’ve ever had.


This image is what looms in our minds when we think of an apocalypse. Humans tend to perceive that nothing can be won without death and destruction. Because we see war and violence as the root of change, war and violence will be what we draw down upon us if the majority becomes convinced that change is what we need. Now that we have all asked for such a fate we may as well accept responsibility for it.  What can we do to accept responsibility?

disastersLive in the present moment. Reach out to those in need around us and do what we can to help them. For a future full of peril and fear remaining steady we will weather whatever storm in the very best possible manner. To live in the fear of unknown possible outcomes is to add to the destruction. To lose all hope, become hysteric and panic is to advance the hysteria and panic of those around us. If we are partdisaster5 of the solution instead of the problem we will lessen the suffering of those around us. Anyone who lives a life of service will tell you that helping others is to help ourselves.

disasters1If The End were to occur tomorrow, it would be lunacy to suggest that we could somehow not feel fear. I, myself, would be scared to death. I would worry, I would not sleep. None of us would. Many of us would die, and most of those horribly. But it is possible to do our best to participate in the solution, however afraid we are while we are doing so. It is possible to die knowing disaster7that you did everything that you could to ease the suffering of those around you. I’ll save the worry for when that time comes; for now, I won’t waste one minute on trying to imagine what could happen. After all, the future does not exist, nor does the past. We only have this moment, and how we choose to spend it does have consequences on not only us but those around us.

Stay in tune with the needs of the world. Rise up against injustice, make whatever difference is in your heart to make. But base your uprisings on love, not fear. Fear is no companion for such times. It has a powerful ability to destroy, while love has a powerful ability to create that which did not exist before. Love can heal.

Thurman AliveIt would be best to grow and can your own food, to learn to hunt. It would be best to stock up on supplies, to hoard water or even ammunition. But few of us will accomplish these things, and for this majority of grossly unprepared people, the greatest practice that can be done is learning to still your sails in the storm.

If you don’t have money to stock up on supplies, stock up instead on inner peace and silence. Run survivalist drills of living in the moment. It’s more than just a practice of being clear enough to tend to the needs of others, being calm in the storm can cause miracles to happen to you. Events can work in your favour in ways that you cannot even imagine. Ways are made that would be shut to the panicked crowd, opportunities to survive available even with death all around. Within faith lies the power to defy all odds. By worrying we are literally assuring that none of those miracles will happen to us. We are keeping the very help we desire on the other side of the door.

The world will be what it is. It will shake and break and blister in the fires of change. Let us not cry, cringe and cower before it but stand strong, holding out our hands for anyone who wishes to walk the way together.

Oakenshield Fires

Fire Bukowski

Fire and Rain

Einstein Compassion

Traubel Fire

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The Learned Non-Use Of Positive Emotion

Ending Physical Pain: For Good


For all the advancements I have made in my life towards happiness and away from misery, I have not discovered how to cure my own pain…until now. Deep inside I believed that my pain was permanent, lifelong and incurable, and yet I equally believed that any ailment can be cured but mine. It was a curious, bipolar reality.

As many spiritual teachers as I have read and listened to, I’ve never found one who I felt fully explained physical pain enough to sufficiently help me understand it. They say that physical pain is resistance; letting go and going with the flow can end pain, and fighting it and hiding from it only cause it to continue. But during a severe migraine or pinched nerve those become words and nothing more; fleeting concepts crushed beneath the weight of my experience.

My pain is severe and chronic. A major part of my life has been spent working a man’s job that my female body was not able to do. To make matters worse I refused to do my job with any sort of ergonomic common sense. All my life I have fought to prove that I am every bit as capable as a man, so I did things that I should not do in order to show the world that I could. Sure, I kept up with the men I worked with and for, but after 10 years I found my body was falling apart. Now I find the smallest effort causes the greatest pain as my spine attempts to fuse itself together causing pinched nerves, migraines and other severe issues.

Earlier in my career as a cripple the pain would cause me to pass out, but over the years I have become used to it enough that I stay awake for the entire process. I am basically trapped in the prison of my body. The pain is sheer torture, often feeling as if there is an axe stuck in my neck or a knife piercing my back or eyes. No medicine will cure it, yet I over~compensate with caffeine and ibuprofen. Episodes can last all day or several days. I cannot find a comfortable position to lay in nor can I sit up. I can’t sleep but can’t stand being awake. I am off work and unable to do anything but lay in bed and wish I was dead. Often, that is exactly what I think to myself during the pain.


I am not the only one my ailments affect. My Other stops whatever he is doing to tend to my every need. He massages me, cooks for me, brings me medicine and holds my hair back when I throw up. He even cleans up afterwards, much to my chagrin. Often I escape by watching movies on Netflix. He will waste an entire day by my side watching movies if it takes my mind off of the pain. This causes me to feel guilt as he endures watching me suffer but is helpless to do anything about it.

Now that I have returned to school in attempts to get out of the business I am in, I find that sitting in chairs all day during classes further exacerbates my problem. I miss many days of class because of my pain and feel that I am involved in a conundrum; trapped between not being able to sit in the chairs at school but not able return to the working world full~time. Sitting at a desk at home to do homework can often lead to falling days behind. It all feels so hopeless.

The universe is not a concrete, permanent sort of place. No law is set in stone. I have cured mental ailments and physical addictions, issues that many people struggle with their entire lives, but when it comes to physical pain I am helpless.Buddhist Proverb Pain

I listen to many spiritual teachers on Youtube, any and all I can find. Often their knowledge can raise me to a state of bliss enough that I can make it through the day. My sister recently introduced me to Eckhardt Tolle, whose name I have heard for years but have never really come to know. Mr. Tolle’s main message is that of what he calls Presence, to be here, now, at all moments, thoughtless and empty but for the joy of being alive. I’ve begun listening to him more and more. His advice really helps me extract myself from the thoughts that threaten to take my mind away from the moment.

Recently I came across a couple of his videos that stopped me in my tracks. Eckhardt actually explains how to get rid of pain, though I’ve not been sure that I could do what he was asking. Basically, he describes pain like an entity that feeds off the negative emotions which arise from the experience of its pain. He says that pain doesn’t want you to pay attention to it, it wants you to hide from it so that it can pretend to be you and convince you that you are it. His suggestion is to put all your attention on the pain just as you would put all your attention on your breath during meditation, “watching” it to separate yourself from it.


In all honesty, the thought terrified me. My whole life has been spent escaping pain. To think of turning and facing it was cause for hesitation. Thinking back I remembered a couple of recent instances when I had actually done this technique without even realizing it and recalled that it had actually worked on minor pain. I decided to give it a try. At this point in my life I would do anything if it means curing the one thing that is holding me back from my dreams.

I started Eckhardt’s pain practice at work. One day I was up and down ladders all day and my “bad hip” began to ache. I focused directly at the pain, “watching it”, as Mr. Tolle had prescribed. Instantly it lessened by half. Any time I would take my mind off of it, it would flare and intensify. I would return my focus back to it and it would lessen. Over and over, all day long I kept the pain from getting worse, and it didn’t even hurt that next morning when I woke up as it had so often.

My daughter works with me but has taken on a second job, which means that I’m doing everything myself three days a week. I didn’t even realize that I had convinced myself that I could not physically do the things she had done, which she had taken on co~dependently to attempt to save me from pain. With this new technique I find that anytime I begin to hurt, no matter what the reason or the history or the seemingly~inevitable circumstances, I have successfully turned the pain away. Yet, until yesterday I had only ever practiced this on small doses of pain. I’d been wondering when the next big incident would occur when I could practice this technique on something serious.

I was sitting at my desk doing math and noticed the pain coming on. I watched it, as I have become accustomed to doing. The practice took a lot less time to master than I had imagined. I knew my neighbor might call and ask me to come visit and I was dreading it. Pain makes me want to be alone, but I hadn’t seen him in awhile and it was time. He called and I went to visit.

When I got there he was looking at pictures of his last vacation on the computer. More sitting, just what I didn’t need. I stood for awhile, sat and stood again, watching the pain as I looked at the pictures, but his conversation diverted my mind from my task and it advanced. Eventually it got to the point where I realized it was going to be a “big one”, a migraine that involved nausea and several days of suffering. I excused myself and went home.

My first thought was to turn on Netflix but I chose not to. I went up to bed and lay down. The pain was hitting hard: in my eyes, my neck, my left shoulder in particular. I was watching it but was intimidated by doing so. It was big, really big, looming and threatening to advance. In my mind I was looking for somewhere small to hide.

I realized that there was, in fact, a place inside me that didn’t hurt. It was in my core, the smallest part of me. I began to visualize myself in layers, like an onion, and the outside layers all hurt, but there was one layer in the furthest depths that didn’t. Keeping my eye on the pain I went there, lived there. The one single small little space that the pain couldn’t touch. The tiny glowing dot in the center of this image describes it well.

Aura Egypt

I think I expected that the pain would just go away, but it didn’t. After a while of holding it back I realized that it was only going to go away so much. I gave up for a moment, deciding that I didn’t want to be face to face with the amount of pain that was left. But giving up caused it to take control of me so I quickly returned to watching it. The more I lived in the painless space the more relaxed my body became. It took a concentrated effort not to brace myself against it. After staying in this state for awhile I got up to use the bathroom and my neck popped several times loudly. My muscles had relaxed enough to let go of the tension.

It began to imagine myself laying in front of a huge panel of glass. The pain was behind the glass. I could see it and experience it but it wasn’t me and didn’t control me. It did feel like an entity. I could see its tentacles through the glass, its many~layered little anemone fingers and teeth, very similar to the background behind the figure on the first image on this page. It was many~coloured and hideous but I made sure not to make what I was doing into despising it. It had no power, it merely wanted to live. Pain, as the ego, began as a servant but got out of control, was allowed too much power. To honour its purpose is to set it free. Helpless and unable to reach me it flopped its tentacles and gnashed its teeth.

Thoughts would come and go, my mind telling me about the pain and how bad it hurt and this and that, causing the pain to advance. I would drop the thought and return to watching it. Eventually I realized that thoughts were pain as well. I placed them behind the glass with it, where they belonged. I got really sleepy and began to drift off.

My Other came in with a Starbucks’ Energy Mocha, which sometimes helps depending on the type of pain, but I told him to put it in the refrigerator. I slipped off to sleep and didn’t wake up til morning.

The next day I had little residual aches and pains from it, some that I had to watch all day. Still, they were nothing compared to what I should have been experiencing, what I would have experienced every single other time I got that kind of migraine. I was not able to sit at my desk and do math, but the key here is that I was not suffering.

It works! It really works. It’s the only thing that has ever worked. In the video, Eckie (as I like to call him, precious little man that he is) says that with regular practice we can become completely pain~free. Knowing how much better the pain is while watching it and holding it back, I never want to go back to allowing it to take me. I can choose to refuse to feed it.


We cannot reject the pain, we cannot fight it. This, too, is resistance. The secret is simply to watch it. Observe it. Stop identifying with it. It is not you. As the video says, observe how you want to talk about it, how you take a strange pleasure in it. When I first heard that I laughed out loud because I’ve never taken a pleasure in it….or have I? Pain serves a purpose, and no matter how much you think you hate it and how much you think you are ready to get rid of it, it is serving you somehow. I believe that my pain stems from not being valued as a child. My mother hated me the most because I was most like her and she hated herself. But when I was sick she took excellent care of me. Being sick was the only time I ever received affection from her.

I used to think that it was necessary to get to the root of the trauma in order to heal. Though it would be beneficial to discover what pain means to us and how we are using it for our own purpose, we don’t have to know the “why’s and how’s” to overcome obstacles. I cannot remember the first 13 years of my life and I may never. I had to move on. I couldn’t wait to remember to heal. It used to really bother me, but now it’s okay.

Without further pause let me share with you the video that is changing my life! I would never have believed it had I not witnessed it in action. It’s scary, and it’s not comfortable by any means…not yet. It’s better than what I had before, and I can see light at the end of the tunnel for the first time in my life. No ailment is forever, no symptom set in stone.


The 64 Doors


The Door

Last night my children were watching Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen any of the movies in that series, and was reminded that they teach kids some valuable lessons in self trust, discipline and controlling fear. However, last night it became very evident to me why the Harry Potter sensation swept the globe like it did, and why it is still so popular today.

Children want to believe that magic is real (and judging by the large adult fan base of the Harry Potter series, many adults do also). Children’s sense of the fantastical has not yet been discouraged to the point of disbelief. They want to believe that there is something out there for them beyond growing up, going to college and getting a good job, that there is some grand adventure that defies the mundane purpose of human life. Kids watch these movies and imagine that they can do magic. They dream of being trusted with important tasks, treated as if they have a gift to share of equal value to the adults they are surrounded by. I think every one of us could take parenting lessons from Hogwarts.

Perhaps Harry Potter fans are people who want to believe that everything is not as it seems, that the universe is more malleable than we’ve been taught. On Earth we see evidence of certain facts all around us. If you touch something that is hot you will be burned. If you jump off a building and flap your arms you will not fly. If you attempt to walk through a wall you will inevitably get hurt. Growing up on planet Earth has meant being taught to learn and respect the laws of physics. By coming to trust the concrete reality of physical existence we have put less and less stock in the abstract notions of impermanence and creation and can no longer believe that we have the power to defy law.


However, the new science of quantum mechanics proves that there is nothing concrete about reality at all, that the smallest components of the universe are reactive to thought. What this means is that science is getting closer and closer to understanding our non~physical reality. The properties of light, mathematics and the invisible structure of the universe are all beginning to come together as a larger picture of the bonded unity of all things.

Just as a college degree is a beneficial tool in this life, imagination is the most beneficial tool for what comes Next, once we decide we’ve learned our lessons in the physical. Practicing for What Comes Next requires only that we trust whatever creation we dream into being. However, trust in imagination goes against everything we’ve been taught. Is it dangerous to follow a path not based on pure fact? Is it dangerous to believe in fantasy?

I certainly believed so when I first had the dream of the 64 Doors. Because of my mother’s mental illness I knew how devastating believing in the formless could be. The voice of “God” had abused me through her for years; because she believed that voice implicitly I learned that trusting in voices and visions was dangerous. When I woke from the dream of the Doors I knew that it was a place I needed to return to, but I couldn’t trust myself enough to go there.

Robed Guide

That’s where my astral master came in. When I first met Him I thought I had gone insane, but His love and acceptance of me just as I am caused me to return to Him again and again. Once I learned to trust myself more, He began teaching me how to use my imagination to explore other dimensions and worlds.

At first I couldn’t be sure whether or not I was creating what I was seeing and experiencing, but the point I would soon learn is that whether I was creating something new or exploring a place that already existed was irrelevant. Whether exploration of the Next is “real” or “imaginary” goes against the very point of the exercise itself. All that matters is gaining the experience of learning how to explore. If what you are experiencing is a mix of “reality” and your own fantastical creation, all you’ve done is added to what is called “expansion”. Think of expansion in this way: even as galaxies pull away from each other in the universe so are we fluctuating outwards, space expanding inside us as we learn to embody the everything we are part of. We must begin thinking outside the box, so to speak; realizing that anything and everything is possible, that we were meant to create and explore.

Before the dream of the Doors I had begun crossing the highway behind my apartment to a pasture that stretched on for miles. I believe now that it was my attempts to reconnect with nature that prepared me for what would become a spiritual epiphany, boosting me to the next lesson. At first the Doors were an escape from my sad life, a life of extreme depression and poverty in a cluttered little apartment with 12 cats, a child I wasn’t taking good care of and an unhappy relationship with a man I knew was not right for me. Eventually, the joy that solving Doors afforded me began altering my life, becoming less an escape and more an adventure.



The huts on stilts that house the 64 Doors are made of jade; four doorways on each side of four huts. Some doors are open and lead into darkness, others have actual wooden doors. The Doors sit on a rainwater lake surrounded by weeping willows. The sand of the beach is white, with rice patties on either side of a path that leads into the rainforest. The four huts face East, towards a large bamboo dock where the Keepers’ houses sit, one behind the other, facing North and South. I came to this lake from the mountains. The full recount of the dream that took me there can be found in the Dream Log page.

Orang AsliOver years I researched online for some record of an Earthen place like what I had seen in my visits to the Doors. I found that Malaysia fit all the topographic and cultural criteria. It is home to many rainwater lakes scattered deep in tropical rainforests. There are rice patties like the ones on the white sands of the beach beside the lake. There are local tribes, the Orang Asli Indians (Senoi) that live in Malaysia and have the markings of those I see in my travels, whose entire culture revolves around their dreams. They often live in huts on stilts.

I researched for some record of astral or mystical doors of sixty four but have found nothing. That’s what’s so incredible about the realms of spirit, the number and quality of experiences that can be had is infinite. Each Path is tailor~made for its Walker.


It took years for me to identify the first of two Keepers of the Doors, a white man with white hair. I found an image of him in the back of a book that I had read, Creative Dreaming by Robert Moss. It just so happened that Dr. Moss spent time around the Senoi Indian tribes of Malaysia. The other Keeper is a woman with shaggy dark brown hair wearing a white dress. I have yet to discover her identity.

I believe that the 64 Doors is a real place, not a place I have constructed in my own mind, but this is where the definition of “real” gets complicated. I can guess that if I traveled to Malaysia and spent years searching every rainwater lake, I would never find the Doors. A different dimension? An alternate plane? I don’t know for sure. I know that solving the Doors has changed my life in more ways than I can share. Each Door is mirrored by the life I live on planet Earth, in a way that solving a Door means learning an essential lesson in waking life. The Doors are a map of my awakening into a life of joy from a life that was nothing but pain.

Heading OutWhether you walk alone or with a master, ascended beings are always there if you need them, all you have to do is call. But you don’t need a master to walk these Paths. In all honesty, I’ve walked this Path largely alone. Because of my belief that I am a waste of my master’s time I have refused to call on Him, though His only purpose is to be here for those in need. It’s a silly and sad notion, that I would feel myself to be so unworthy, and yet He is always there when I do call. Time does not exist for Him. Any path is the walker’s to fulfill; leaning too heavily upon the master is equally difficult. I have learned to rely on my beacon when I am in need of aid.

When I first dreamt of the Doors I was not allowed to enter them. The Keeper smiled and told me I was not yet ready. It was quite awhile later, in a meeting with my master Dap Ren, that He took me to the Doors and told me to begin solving them. When I asked why He said “Because you can.” At the time I took that as some sort of compliment, but I know now that He meant I had learned to trust my imagination enough to undertake the adventure. As you can imagine, I had no idea whatsoever how to begin. I barely even believed it was real… but I desperately wanted to.


I began by standing at Door One, an arched, open jade doorway leading into darkness. I was terrified to go inside; partly because I wasn’t sure what I would find and partly because I was worried that I would inadvertently use my imagination in a way that would taint what was “really there” by creating a mental image of something that wasn’t. This became a common theme with the Doors, a self~distrust that would be challenged in Door Three.

Dap Ren told me to “make them real”, it was my only clue of how to proceed. I would stand at the entrance to Door One and run my hands over the cool, smooth surface of the jade door frame. It soothed me somehow to do this. I spent many months avoiding entering the room until one day I stepped inside. What I saw made me curious: an empty room made entirely of clay. The floor is square, made of four convex triangles that meet in a depression in the center of the room.

DoorOneSnakeAt the nadir center is a golden coin. There is a design there, a snake slithering up the face with a small, slitted tongue sticking out. On its upper left side are two small rectangles width~up, and on its lower right two more with a single rectangle beneath them. This isn’t an exact replica, it’s the best I could do with the paint program and internet images.

I sat in front of the medallion on the cool clay for many months. I had no idea what to do, but I was stubborn and refused to ask Dap Ren for help. I wanted to do it on my own. I became accustomed to the smell of the clay and the feel of its smooth surface beneath me. I would listen to the wind outside, sometimes going to the door and looking out at the trees beyond the Keeper’s house. I would sometimes leave the room and sit on the bamboo dock watching the water beneath me, or swim through its surprisingly warm depths. I became comfortable with being there, and it began to feel safe and familiar.

One day I had a severe migraine. To escape the pain I attempted to go to Door One, though it was hard to visualize through the pain. I lay on the floor next to the golden medallion, tracing its raised symbols with my fingers in attempts to take my mind off of my body back on the bed. It occurred to me that, because the snake and rectangles were raised, they would still be visible if the medallion’s depression was filled with liquid. Blood came to mind. I sat up and looked at the medallion and realized that there was a small, crude knife in my hand. Curious, and somehow knowing what to do, I cut a deep gash in my finger and dripped blood on to the medallion, careful not to get any on the raised symbols.

Instantly a blue light shot up to the ceiling from the medallion. It was jagged around the edges, similar to tribal patterns I have seen. For the Tribal Bluefirst time I noticed that there was a small hole in the ceiling through which the light traveled. I felt drawn to the light and stepped inside it. It pulled me off my feet gently. It seemed there was no gravity inside it, my body floated as in water. Weightless, I arched my back and floated. I felt the migraine stop hurting in my Earthly body. I felt the gash on my finger grow together and heal itself. As if pulling out of myself I looked at the Me floating in the light and was awed.

The “me” that exists at the Doors is a new being, not the “me” from planet Earth. This new Me has flawless skin and is the perfect weight; slim and tan and as beautiful as I could possibly be. This Me has never experienced one moment of pain or suffering of any kind. There are no wrinkles, no scars. We don’t realize how visible physical pain is as evidenced on the human body, but seeing myself without it was sobering. That Me is the me I’ve always wished I could be, the reflection of the perfection of my true self.

At the Doors I wear a white button~up shirt with elbow~length sleeves, tucked in to a pair of cut~off blue jean shorts. My feet are always bare. The me in this life would never wear something like that, which made me curious. Interestingly enough, I would come to find that for each different adventure I wear different clothing. As well, each time I meet with Dap Ren He is wearing a different outfit. I’m not sure the significance of it, but the colour of the clothing is always white or tan for both of us.

After many visits I realized the symbolism of cutting my finger to activate the Light. We must exist in pain on Earth, it’s why we came. We must know suffering to find the Light. Suffering is part of the process! It’s not something to be shunned or avoided, it’s something to be embraced and used to further our cause. Too easily we forget, thinking that once we are ‘pure’ enough we won’t experience pain anymore. However, becoming pure means that you will still experience pain but no longer suffer from it. You will be quiet inside enough to see that you came here to experience pain in order to purify yourself.

I can go to Door One any time I want and step into the Light and my pain will be gone. That is not to say that I go to the Doors every time I am in pain. One thing I have learned about myself over the years is that I am stubborn and do everything the hard way. Though I’ve had this miraculous blue lightand mystical place to go to be healed I have rarely ever done so, only when the pain is too much and I feel as if I have no choice. Had I gone to Door One often, I would have become so familiar with healing my pain that I would only have had to think of the Light to be healed. Humans are curious creatures, indeed.

You can no doubt sense the disappointment in myself as I admit this to you. I should not be disappointed; my master is not disappointed in me, and I have all eternity to spend at the Doors long after my body is decaying in the ground. However, there is a purpose for showing this side of me to you. As with every post I enter here I am attempting to cause you to realize that you don’t have to be some guru~level being to begin amazing adventures on other planes of existence. I am a wisp of a conscious, only just now beginning to pull myself from the ashes of first awakening..

It is too~little faith in imagination that cause most to never begin this journey. We cannot trust ourselves and our visions, and are afraid to venture out into something so completely alien and alone. Thus is the crux of life, that we deter ourselves from the very thing that sets us free. However, that is not to say that even this is as we planned.

Beings of Light

We have come here again and again, eventually deciding to take that first step towards the non~physical aspects of ourselves. It’s a natural process that takes a near~infinity to comprehend before infinity begins. We are all too rushed to begin when, in fact, we have already begun! Every waking moment you are moving towards your goals. That you are reading this information right now means that you have already begun, whether or not you “buy” my story. Even in searching to disprove something we are searching to prove it, in order to create our own reality just as we want it, because we want to know our options and what is possible for us. It’s in our nature.



Night and Water

The Banks of This River is Night ~ Peccatum

Running wide
on promises of sweet tomorrows
Running deep
in ignorance and hope
on and on towards the big, black sea
the banks of this river is night

Night is within me
and I am here in your arms

After solving Door One I didn’t know whether I should immediately solve Door Two or not. I would sit on the dock and look at the Door to the right of the first one but did not feel led to go there. By now, the simple experience of Going somewhere fantastical was enough to sate me. At that time television was playing constantly at home, and having been raised with no television made me despise it. I would sit beside my boyfriend and Go to the Doors. I walked around the dock. I swam. I looked at the willows surrounding the lake and wondered what lay beyond those shores.


At this time I had just begun talking to a woman on an online poetry site that had quickly become a mother to me. She urged me to continue returning to nature, trusting my visions and dreams. She was daughter of the Sun, and I of the Moon, and I felt that I should be like her. However, she instead worked towards helping me see that the darkness that I drew towards was not bad or good, that there is no darkness without light.

I spent more and more time away from my apartment, taking my child to the field across the highway. I would meet with my master there, or do visualization to leave my body. I wrote a lot of nature poetry in this age, a new thing for me having been such a dark poet from an early age. I studied the Book of my Tibetan tradition, Eckankar; The Key to Secret Worlds by Paul Twitchell, and attempted to grasp the incredible information given there.

Over time I went to the Doors less and less and eventually stopped going at all. A year Sri Darwin Grosswent by, and then another. I met with my master rarely. Because I had never meditated I could only hold myself at His side for brief moments at a time before my mind would slip away. This horrified me, that this ancient soul who chose to stay behind couldn’t even hold my attention long enough to share His wisdom. But His smile was always genuine and His patience boundless. At this time He was still alive on Earth, a physical being named Sri Darwin Gross, Darji to His chelas, or students. He, Himself was going through trials that I had no idea about until later, but His soul was meeting with me whenever I called, loving me in the gentle way that He does. During the solving of Door Two Darji transitioned from this life to the Next and became Dap Ren. I never got to meet Him in the flesh.

I knew that it was time to begin solving Door Two when I started thinking about it. That is how it has always been, once my physical life progressed to the point that the next Door would mirror its lesson I begin to spend time there again. Over weeks I would think about them, and sometimes the anticipation of what I would find would frighten me. When you’ve been inundated your entire life with the concrete~reality it’s hard to accept anything less concrete, even when you desperately want to. I sometimes felt as if I was being swept away by something too big to control. I still didn’t trust myself enough.

Strangely enough, when I stood on the dock before the hut I realized that the Door to the right of One was not Two. I felt led to move around to the left side of the building, the side facing the rice patties on the beach. To stock-photo-511428-moroccan-mirrormy surprise there was only one jade Door there, shaped in a Moroccan style. What lay beyond was pitch black. As with Door One I stood before it running my hand up and down the smooth jade doorjamb. It became like a ritual with me. Eventually I wandered in, and my feet sloshed through several inches of water. Above me, stars twinkled in a clear nightsky. The water was so warm that I lay down in it looking up at the stars. It was just deep enough for me to immerse myself in; floating as one would float in a bathtub full of water, still touching the soft silt below but not pressed against it. As I lay there my mind began to get quiet and calm and I drifted into a sort of still, silent peace that had previously been unknown to me. It was utter bliss.

But I still felt as if there was some puzzle to solve here. I did a bit of wandering, but just a bit; the bank of the shallow river could not be climbed, and its walls seemed to surround me. The room was tiny, there was nowhere else to go. Sometimes I sat in the water and looked at the stars, sometimes I sat on the dock and wondered what puzzle I could possibly solve there.

After a month, waking life became particularly stressful. One night I ran to the Doors to float in the warm, soothing water, staring at the nightsky. All the woes of the world I had left behind began to drift away. The music that I was listening to in my room on Earth followed me to the river. I listened to the words and they melted into the reality of the room: the song and the Door were one.

“Running wide/on promises of sweet tomorrows/running deep/in ignorance and hope/on and on towards the big black sea/the banks of this river is night….”

The purpose of Door Two was to have a safe place to rest, a place that would remove me from the woes of the world any time I needed to reconnect with peace. As I lay there the night of sorrow was within me. I was overwhelmed by the violence of hot soil and the conundrum of humanity, yet I was embraced by the warmth and the stars, given peace by the very darkness that had seemed to swallow me moments before.

I learned much about myself at this Door. I learned that my “darkness”, which has drawn me towards the very undercurrent of life that most shun, is not a curse but a blessing. I came here to be dark, and this is a concept many who know me cannot understand. The vast majority of spiritual people are drawn towards happy things, light things. They wear pretty colours and listen to joyful music. They are surrounded by people like them. I am not one of them, and have never been…at least, not on the outside. Inside I am joyfully One with them, and outside I wear black. I listen to metal music. I am drawn towards all things dark, of the night, of storms. I am drawn towards the beautiful death that awaits. I came here to represent the fact that none of us can judge another by the forms that we take.


Once I realized I was a spiritual creature on a Path I attempted to murder the darkness inside myself, to drown it in upbeat poetry, light~hearted music and bright colour. With the help of my master, and my poet mother, I learned that I am perfect just as I am. With the help of Door Two I embraced who I have chosen to be on planet Earth. That the very music I earnestly adored was woven into the very fabric of the lesson meant so much to me: validation that every single aspect of the creation is part of the plan.

There is no set ritual prescribed by “God”, no particular way you should head towards It, no particular songs you should sing or robes you should wear or words you should say. We create the Walk back to It in whatever way we choose. Considering that all of this is a creation of Its design there is no medium that is rejected when painting the picture we came here to make. We, ourselves, are pieces of the great mirror of a God, broken away from It that we may find our way back to It again and, doing so, experience every experience that exists. I am the Dark Side of you and of God. There is no separation between us and It.

Solitude and Water

“But how can this be?” many may say. “Dark is bad and light is good and that’s how it’s always been.” Even in the Bible darkness is used to represent Satan and all that is evil. All I know is that it was a God~cursing Darkness that lead me to the Light and that, through me, love spills out to those who would claim to shun it. Because I am like them, Light is able to reach the dark corners it would never normally touch. Let us not forget the old adage that Jesus, himself, sat in the taverns with those considered sinners by the mass. Were he to have passed them by they’d have never known his message. I am not Jesus by any means, but I touch and am touched by the Dark of us every day.

We have made a grave mistake in believing that people who listen to Satanic bands and curse God are on the wrong Path. In some thirty years of being surrounded by these Dark ones, I have met three who embodied the sickness of man’s image of darkness. The most evil man I’ve ever met was not one of these, he fit nicely in society. In turn, one of the most gentle souls I know is a six~foot, giant Viking with ‘hate’ tattooed above the knuckles of one hand and ‘kill’ on the other.

Just as gay and transgender people, and ethnicities historically shunned by the masses, Darkfolk have come to this planet to be outwardly shunned. It is our challenge, and our redemption should we so choose to accept the blessing. Nine times out of ten, these people have softer hearts than most. Nine times out of ten, these people are more vulnerable than most, and have more a capacity to love than many. The rest simply represent the other side of the coin.

It is not a rebellion that draws me to the darkness, though it began that way. Door Two reminded me that all paths lead to light eventually, so it is okay for each of us to express our purpose on Earth as we so design. There is a purpose for every facet of the diamond of humanity; pressed and heated unbearably, we all shine in the end. Our souls are made of light, as is all matter. It is said that on the higher planes the sun never sets, as there is no reason for sleep or darkness. We can create a malevolent darkness if we believe in its existence, but we do not have to make such things real, it’s our choice. Darkness is an aspect of physicality. Eventually I will never experience night in any form again. I will cherish it while I can.



Twin Flame 10

I went to Door Two more often than its predecessor. Here I moved away from the gnawing depression that had chased me my entire life. I didn’t feel rushed to get to Door Three, which was good. My life was about to take an unexpected turn towards the lesson I would soon receive.

My situation improved. I became a better parent. I got rid of all the cats but a few. I got a dollar raise. I realized that living with my boyfriend no longer coincided with the amazing Path I had discovered. We continued to date but I moved out, to a much nicer apartment in a better neighborhood. The new place had its own field across the busy street, a large, untouched lot in the midst of businesses and duplexes. I dragged a chair out there and spent much time there as my daughter came of the age to begin spending more time with her friends.

I had some very deep mystical experiences in that Second LightningField. One day the music I was listening to, Graablick blev hun vær by Ulver, mirrored my surroundings: a hawk carrying a snake in its mouth across a lightning~streaked sky moved to the beat over a herd of deer who, at the precise moment that lightning struck the ground and thunder rumbled in the song, bolted for the far field. The more I immersed myself in the spirit, everything around me began to mould itself to my waking dreams.


I met with enlightenment there, in a moment when I became so silent that I was one with everything around me. I met God for the first time there, in the form of sunlight. Before that moment I was an atheist.

I went on my first psilocybin journey in that apartment, floating as an waves of lightectoplasmic webbing up through waves of colour and ecstasy to a plateau of clouds to meet with the pure Love of Sugmad. I watched each person on Earth gather up their suffering, lay it out before them and crawl across it endlessly for one single drop of that Love. This caused me to realize that all suffering is worth what awaits.

Due to the quality of my spiritual life, my physical life began to greatly improve. That’s not to say  I was not faced with major lessons, challenges whose difficulty equaled the beauty of my experience. Having this new knowledge of the reasons for my suffering caused me to handle challenges better. I now knew that there was a purpose.

By now I was dying to share my travels with others. I had kept my master and my travels secret from others, but the more confident I became the more I realized that otherworldly experience is what is missing from the disillusioned masses. I realized that if people knew there was an adventure waiting for them it might change their lives in the way it had mine.

At this time I became a fanatic. It runs in the family. Though the psilocybin experience deeply touched them both, my sisters could not grasp anything else I was ranting about and my fervor separated us for a time. They thought I had lost my mind.

I went online, to a website named Myspace. There I met many interesting 240px-Hermes_Mercurius_Trismegistuspeople. One I met was of the Left Hand Path. He told me of the Qliphoth, a mythical Tree of Life from the tradition of the ancient Hermetic Qabalah. It is the purpose of the Hermetics to seek out the “adverse Sephiroth”, the opposite of God’s holy light, in order to integrate all aspects of the self.

I asked my master to take me to the Qliphoth. He warned me against it but took me as I asked. Now I look back and see that He wanted me to understand that everything which has been created by soul exists on some plane. Darkness can be frightening or it can be bliss, just as the Light can be. All four of these Paths are lessons, different lessons from the same medium. We can choose whatever way we wish to go.

I was terrified by what I saw at the Qliphoth, it hunted me for weeks afterwards. It would take pages to describe it, so I will suffice to say that the Tree is alive. It knows the past, present and possible futures of every soul who comes to it. It draws souls to it, and the Paths that its trunk and branches make take lifetimes to explore. It was nothing that I wanted, and when I returned it continued to attempt to draw me to it. If not for my master I might have had a terrible time releasing myself from it.

I met another man on Myspace that year, one I had known for years, a man who lived forty minutes away from me in a small town. I don’t even know what lead me to tell him about my master, but when he had asked what I’d been doing I mentioned leaving my body. He asked to know more, expressing an interest in meeting with me and speaking of these things. I was amazed, as any talk of spiritual matters had only run people away before.

We did eventually meet, and what I told him changed his life forever. That first discussion I had with him lasted all night. Dap Ren was present. My friend embraced every tale I told him. He embraced my master and longed for a master of his own. We didn’t even feel the need for sleep the next day. Both he and I were buzzing with some sort of energy, filled with a mysterious etheria that neither of us could explain. Thus began the walk with the man who would come to be my Other, but at the time we were both taken by other people. I became depressed the more I came to love him, making a pact with myself to hide my feelings with respect to his family. I broke up with my boyfriend out of respect for him, knowing my heart belonged to another.


Door Three is to the right of Door One. This Door was short in solving. I didn’t bother with usual ritual of rubbing the door frame with my hands, I walked right in from the bright of a rainlake day, down some stairs into a dark room made of sandy stone. There was a rectangle door in the back of the room leading into utter darkness. There was a hole in the ceiling that a single ray of light shined through, revealing a raised platform on the right. It was elliptical in shape and had a single, marble column on its left side that connected with the cathedral ceiling.

At first I sat in the center of the ellipse, where the light shined down upon me, but the dark door behind me made me feel unsafe. I began sitting and staring at the door. The experience of the Qliphoth had caused me to fear the unknown once more, forgetting that my master had protected me there and would protect me no matter where I went. I would think of the coming of age rituals of tribes in which the young boy goes out and, armed with a simple spear, kills his first animal. I wondered if this Door would be that kind of quest, and was frightened by the thought.

There was also the growing fear, at that time unconscious, that I had walked the Path for nothing. If everything that I had worked for had brought me to the male equivalent of myself only to be denied him, what was the purpose of searching for joy? I convinced myself that I could never be truly happy until he was by my side. I dwelled in lament and my songs were of sorrow.

One day I was staring at the door and something appeared there. It was a huge hound, several feet tall without skin. The eyeballs bugged out of its bloody, furless skull and every sinew and vein and muscle could be seen. I jerked out of my meditative state with terror and did not return for days, but Dap Ren’s assurances that all was not as it seemed caused me to return with a metaphorical spear in hand, ready to face my fears and my foe.

Once more I sat facing the dark entrance. Once more the hound appeared. I crouched, bracing myself for what would come, but the hound only stood there and watched me. Once I realized it would not attack I observed it curiously. It seemed less and less menacing and more pitiful with every moment that passed. It made me think of myself, that part of me that found it increasingly more difficult each day to hide the powerful love I was experiencing for my separate Other. As much as I attempted to hide my feelings I, like the hound, had nothing to hide behind.

To be the hound was to be tortured and alone; not tortured from outside but from within. My observations of the hound created a desire in me to stop suffering, to embrace the incredible story I had written and acknowledge that I had found someone to share it with. Whatever kind of sharing it would be would be enough. My focus should be on the journey. I had Doors to solve. With this commitment I made the hound disappeared. I lay down in the center of the ellipse and curled myself on the floor, closing my eyes.

I felt the floor begin to heat up beneath me. It was so soothing. I looked above me to find that the hole in the ceiling had become my Other’s symbol, the black sun, radiating a thermal light the colours of deep purple, blue, green and gold. The ground embraced me, the sides curving up and around me. The Sun slid down the wall until it was before me and the room became a cocoon: the womb of the Earth. The essence of my Other radiated through the Sun, heating my inner chamber. I could smell him, feel him, everything I loved about him was there with me.

Door Three is the Other. I would come to rely on this Door too heavily, continuing my addictive behaviour by sitting long hours in the womb. I would continue to suffer due to my separation from him, but I had somewhere to go when it became unbearable. Even with the imprint of the lesson of the Third Door on my soul I didn’t handle our time apart very well, but it didn’t last long. Those two years seemed to stretch on forever, but every piece of the puzzle fit into place honourably and, one day, we became ours. The way that it worked out was best for everyone involved.

That was five years ago. I don’t visit that Door very often because I have Him now beside me, but the lesson was essential to learn. Every moment with Him has been a lifetime of joy.


Womb of the Earth by preshuss1

~*You Are The Third Door*~

Trees bleed together,
bathing in the shifting light of singularity.
Among sponging mosses
a silent grave the scent of night feathers,
but now i pass without mourning…
now that you have come.

How did you trust my light
between shifting leaves?
How did i find your lantern to lead me back home?
How did we find solid ground
when the forest is melting?

You are the Third Door,
the Black Sun above my head,
the dark star i summon in the distance.
You are the One Left,
forehead pulling open,
engulfing the horizon
with the aura of your awakening.
how you even noticed me
between bleedtogether trees…
i cannot comprehend
how it began,
but now i know
there is no end.

The song you sing
is every word never spoken,
every hope that had fallen,
all i had asked for
in the silence of
a secret never shared.
And now my blue soul
stretches in the coil,
no longer haunted by the loneliness
which will never be again.

You are the Third Door,
the room i go for shelter.
You are the Onesoul,
waiting for your wings.
You are the Gift
which i thought would never come.
You became the lantern
when all other lights had gone.



Due to having days of for the holiday season we’ve been watching quite a few movies. I’ve seen the movie Sphere before but it was a long time ago, when it was first released in the 90’s. Watching it again after all these years I was amazed to find that the movie is about thoughts creating reality! It blew my mind. In the end of the movie the three survivors decide that mankind is not ready for this alien gift, the gift to physically manifest their thoughts, because all they manifested were fears. Those who see that the world is not what it used to be, that it’s becoming more violent and depleted of its resources, are seeing this very phenomenon take place. The more fears humans have the more fears manifest.

But Door Four isn’t about manifest fears, it’s about our ability to access limitless knowledge once we are ready. I am not able to go to Door Four whenever I want, I must be accompanied by my master. It’s only for special occasions and so far there has only been one: the opening of the Door.


Door Four came a short year after Three, and I set to the task of solving it at once. No matter how I tried I could not open the heavy wooden door that stood before me. It was locked and I did not have the key. I was disheartened by this because I could not understand why it was shut against me. I stood in front of the Door for at least a week, attempting various meditations and pondering the meaning of locked doors, but nothing would cause it to open.

I became exasperated one day and slumped down onto the walkway in front of the Door. I leaned against it and stared at the Keeper’s house; not the house seen from the beach, rather the house behind it which faces the weeping willows and the rainforest beyond. I realized that I have never even given one thought to that house. Unlike the first Keeper’s house, which is grey with white trim, this house is entirely white. There is a scant, shabby garden in the front with a tree growing there. I wondered at how a bamboo dock could have enough soil on it to grow a tree without breaking through, but this place hardly follows the common rules of logic. How could the huts themselves be made of heavy jade and not break through into the water?

I got up and walked to the door of the house. I pushed it open. The first thing I noticed inside were the many empty, white bird cages laying around. They were piled on top of one another on either side of the entrance way and into the main area, which was bare but for they. There La Cagewas hardly enough room to walk between them, which were stacked in such a way that there was a small path that lead either into the main area or to the left and down a hall. The hall, itself could not be seen by me.

For some reason I did not feel that I should go inside. I stood there at the doorway and looked at all the bird cages. Some were hanging up but most were on the floor. I couldn’t figure out why the house was full of these cages or what they could possibly represent…or, more importantly, who would live in a house such as this. I called out a hello and listened for a reply.

There was no sound whatsoever, not even when the woman in the white dress appeared from the hallway. Unlike everything else about the house she is disheveled, wrinkled like a woman in her late 40’s. Her hair, which is a deep, reddish brown, hangs elbow~length. It is wavy and disorderly, not unbrushed but naturally messy. Her dress is almost long~sleeved but doesn’t quite reach her wrists. The hem is the same, long but not reaching her ankles, which are bare as are her feet.

She never looked at me. It is not like she didn’t want to be with me, but that her countenance is exhausted; not quite resigned, but some emotion I cannot name. Nothing about her can be explained. She is not cold, but neither is she warm. She is not angry but neither is she happy. It’s not as if she doesn’t want to be there, but neither does she seem to enjoy her “job”, whatever purpose she serves, almost as if she is carrying out some prison sentence, the Keeper of the Key. She passed me and went out the door. I followed.

She walked to Door Four and pulled out an ancient~looking key ring. She unlocked the arched Door and pushed it open just a bit, then turned and went back to her house. I was curious and a bit put off by her strange countenance. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I watched her go and then turned towards the Door, pushing it open all the way.


Past the door was a blue sky with bright white clouds. The problem was that there was no ground. I leaned forward slightly and looked down. Nothing but sky and clouds. Nothing inside me had the courage to step inside, and for weeks I sat at the Door and attempted to talk myself into it but I could not.

I came to a point in my stubbornness when I realized that I could not proceed without help. I went back to the white house and opened the door, looking in at the birdcages, but the woman never appeared from the hallway and I didn’t feel like I should enter. I went back to the Door and sat at the foot of it, squinting in at that bright sky, thinking of my master and how He would know what to do. I wished to myself that He was there.

Instantly He appeared before me, smiling that knowing smile most familiar. He was wearing robes like the ones Jesus wears in typical images of him; roughspun, tan robes that appeared to be made of canvas or hemp. His feet were sandaled. He reached out for my hand and I took it.

We fell and fell. It didn’t feel like falling but neither did it feel like being in an elevator. There was no gravity involved, only movement. Dap Ren continued to smile at me, a look that said there was something very exciting waiting beneath me. It was good to be with Him so concretely, I pulled close to Him and embraced Him. He gives the best hugs ever.

He looked down and my gaze followed His. Beneath us, rising towards us fast was an enormous golden sphere. Unlike the sphere in the movie with its dented and dappled surface, this Sphere is like glass, reflecting the clouds around it.

I was a bit afraid of falling towards it, wondering what would happen once we hit its surface, but we fell right through it into a darkness. Everything was a blur but I could see stairs going up and down on either side of me. House of StairsWe landed effortlessly on a platform. Though it was dark there was enough light to see. I looked around. All I could see were stairs and instantly I thought of a book that I had read as a child, and the movie Labyrinth I had watched as well. These stairs were unlike those of the book and the movie, however.labyrinth stairs They were simple and black, thin but sturdy, made of metal or something strong. The space inside the Sphere was largely empty.

Dap Ren stood there calmly as I inspected my surroundings. When I was done He gave me a knowing look and stepped back from me. He raised His hands, and I looked up to see these small, white squares, like blocks of light coming down from above. They swarmed like insects down towards His hands, moved between them and into my head. Each one that entered me felt like a small, cool gust of air. I felt myself being filled with light. It was a strange sensation, because I somehow knew that I was being filled with information that would not be readily accessible to me, rather, it would lay dormant inside me until it was time to come out. The entire experience was very curious. When the process of “uploading” me with Light was done, Dap Ren took my hand and we appeared back at the entrance to the Door. He put His hand on my shoulder and looked deep into my eyes, and without another word disappeared.

The Wave

For years I thought about that experience and wondered what it all could mean. It wasn’t until two years ago, in 2013, that I was able to use the information given me. I partook of Golden Teachers, left my body and went to God. The blocks of Light information that were given me allowed me to be able to exist in that place long enough to learn what I had come to learn. The intense vibrations there were both sound and feeling. It’s difficult to describe, but I’ve done my best in my post Foreversong, where you can find a more detailed explanation of my journey.

shiva_1Being in the higher realms, that close to a god, is intense. I say “a god”, because in my tradition there are many, all that have been created by the living souls of the Universe. This was a difficult concept for me to make peace with initially, as my version of the Bible speaks of Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva living on particular planets that, in this dimension, no life can exist on. Every reality exists, and every religion’s version of God exists somewhere on Its respective plane. It’s a lot to wrap one’s mind around.

Being that it takes many lifetimes to unsheathe ourselves of all unnecessary attachments, to be able to exist in such realms is the ability of those who have ascended to such “heights”, if they can be called that. In truth, there are no highs and lows, there is only the Within, which is a concept that I can’t yet fully understand. It is said that the deeper Inside you go into yourself the more enlightened you become. At the time, visiting a god felt like the “highest place”. When I returned that’s how I described it, but now I realize it was simply the highest place I have ever been.

The majority of the intensity of vibration was the feeling that every pore of my “body”, which did not exist there visually, was in a inexplicable state of orgasm. Strangely enough, this image describes the experience better than anything else I can think of. This, too, was a difficult concept for me to grasp, as on GodEarth sex is something apart from God, a base desire that many holy people become celibate to avoid. I, myself, have strong morals when it comes to sex, and kept my experience secret these past years because I didn’t want anyone to take it the wrong way.

However, Love in all its forms belongs to God. Pure Love is all these things: physical ecstasy, mental ecstasy, spiritual ecstasy. Waves of colour, sound and ecstasy washed over me in that place and it was very intense. I simply cannot describe the weight of the place, not like gravity but the wave that emanated from this god was taking some toll. I would not have been able to exist there at all if not for my master’s help and the knowledge of the Golden Sphere.

I have experienced this several places. In the experience of the ectoplasmic webbing and the plateau of clouds described in the previous section, the same ecstasy took hold of me, and I could not exist within it for long before it became overwhelming and I had to return to Earth and translate myself back into human form. The same was with the Qliphoth, whose crushing gravity and severely dense atmosphere would have destroyed me, if not for my master’s protection in the form of a bubble holy music I was surrounded by. Other realms are so alien, comparable to nothing we’ve ever experienced on Earth.


It is a bold statement to claim that not only have I visited God, but was allowed to Be It. Religions cause God to be a being entirely unattainable, as we are not worthy to reside in It’s presence. This is not true at all. I asked to go to It and was allowed, and I am no guru or holy man. The fact that we don’t believe we should or can is all that holds us from knowing every single available piece of information and understanding in the universe. When we came here we knew that it was where we would return. Even in the Christian Bible it is said that we were made in the image of God, and that we are Him, why should we be unworthy to return to It if we so desire?

Another controversial aspect of my journey is that I used sacred psilocybin to catapult me towards that realm. Many spiritual seekers disdain the thought of using “drugs” to attain such pure knowledge, but there is no

Golden Teacher by George Coghill

Golden Teacher by George Coghill

doubt in my mind that these chemicals were put here to help us along our way. They are considered very pure by the tribal peoples who partake of them. Used in the right way, they are as beneficial as any other method, but they should not be relied upon solely for mystical experience. I am not yet trained enough to be able to do it on my own. I make such journeys once every couple of years or so. I say however you get there, Go there. Go and see what is waiting for you. Why should we be blind to what’s Next, when it is our legacy?

Door Four is the Golden Sphere of Knowledge, lying in wait should I ever need it.



I struck out for Door Five fairly quickly. While I had imagined that it would have been beside Door Four, nothing is chronological with the Doors. I found it around the back of the building, at the far left corner from the beach. It is a plain, rectangular wooden door with a rounded, jade depression in the wall around it.  I entered the small room to find a crude wooden table and chair sitting on smooth clay floors, surrounded by book shelves with red, green and blue books in them. Every book looks the same but for their colours. There was a door in the back of the small room, beside the back shelves.

I sat at the table for weeks. Nothing happened. I meditated there and sometimes sifted through the books, but the ones I opened were empty. I became frustrated, which is never anything but distrust in myself, fears that I cannot or will not solve the puzzle of the Door. It wasn’t until Door Six that those fears subsided.

One day a cat of mine went missing. He is a momma’s boy, as they say, I spoil him too much for his own good. I was particularly worried about him because he never disappears, and because he’s afraid of everything. Thinking of him out there somewhere in the woods, trapped or lost or hurt was overwhelming to me. I had lost his brother to a mysterious condition that was incredibly painful for the both of us, him physically and me emotionally. I didn’t want to lose this last member of that family as well.

My lost cat was on my mind as I walked in the room one day, straight to the door in the back of the room. I opened it and found that it was full of water. Some force was keeping the water from greenwaterpouring out into the room. Nervously, I stepped inside. The water encompassed me and instantly calmed me. I don’t float in it, it’s almost like air. I can breathe in it, and it seems that it has some sort of calming property when inhale. As I stood there, basking in the warmth of the substance, my mind settled and I started thinking of the room as knowledge.

Books represent unknown knowledge to me, all that I do not yet know. Thinking of the library in this way reminded me that the Doors are there to teach me and being frustrated is a matter of impatience, a refusal to respect myself and the lesson. I relaxed and allowed the frustrations to flow away.

That night back in my body I was browsing youtube and found Teal Swan’s latest video about the Akashic Record. I had heard the phrase before but didn’t know what it entailed. One of the first descriptions on the video was that our brains form a concept of the Akash as a library, symbolic for the formless information that is available to us there. I watched the video on what it is, becoming very excited, and then watched her video on how to access it.

By this time my cat had been missing for a week and I was sure he would never return, but I had been trying to make peace with that knowledge and move on. I went to my room to meditate. When my mind was very quiet I did as Teal prescribes in the video and accessed the Record. I found this process amazingly easy.

I found myself in a space without form, a void where I had access to any information I sought. I saw many paths, but stood before two in particular, one where my cat never returned and one where he did. I followed both Akashicpaths and found that they both ended in joy, and that it didn’t matter if he returned or not. Life would go on in the same way it had. There would be other cats, other loves, and it was more important that I flowed with whatever outcome in the most joyful way I knew how.

At the end of the experience it seemed that I stood before both paths as if the universe was asking me which I wanted to choose. I was at peace with both of these choices, but in the end decided that I would very much enjoy walking this way with my cat a bit longer. It seemed as if I sped along that path into Light before returning to my bed. I had a deep feeling of peace, as if all was right with the world. I lay in bed for another twenty minutes enjoying the sensation until I heard my cat crying at the bedroom door. He was skinny and dirty but he was just fine.

The experience blew my mind. It made me trust myself more, as well as trust in the universe. I went back to Door Five and looked at the library. It seemed as if I knew exactly which book to open; a green book to my right on the closest shelf to the door. I opened it and found my own handwriting there. I flipped until I came to blank pages, seeing the very thoughts I was thinking being written just as I was thinking them.

Door Five is my Akashic Record. I can return there any time I want, though I can say I have not since that day. I have, however, returned to that formless state of many paths, and have seen there several lifetimes of mine; those which I shared with my Other, those in which I was alone. I have witnessed one life on a different world, a world of mist where buildings are made in mathematical shapes, in which I was an alchemist’s apprentice. I have seen a possible future life for myself, one right after this one, in which I am a teacher at a temple. This Record is available to all of us at any time, as are all the paths of Next.



At this point in my life my situation was improving exponentially. I was learning about what is called the Law of Attraction, and by using it I drew to myself a beautiful house in the woods. The woman from whom I am renting to own the house also left a car for me. It is my favourite colour, not quite blue but not quite purple. The year was 2013, and soon my Other would be moving in. It was a good time, but it was also one of the hardest times in my life.

The man who ran the business I worked for was the epitome of everything hateful. He was racist and hated me for having a child of mixed descent. He was sexist and hated me for being a woman. He hated that I was happy every day, and wanted me to suffer the way he was suffering inside. I’ve never known a soul so unhappy, and so sad.

Christmas Eve I was driving the work vehicle home in icy conditions. I slid off the road into a ditch. It was a gentle accident, beside a dent in the tailgate I couldn’t see any damage. He had been warning me that I wasn’t on the insurance but refused to add my name to it because he was convinced that women were horrible drivers.

I couldn’t get the truck out of the ditch, it was too icy. I had planned to wait until the ice thawed to drive it back home, but a friend of his just happened to be driving  by that remote woodland road and alerted him to its presence there. He had the truck towed and called me. He was furious. He reminded me that I wasn’t on the insurance and that I owed him $4,000 to fix it. What I didn’t know was that the vehicle was insured, it didn’t matter who truck-stuck-snowbank-ditch bigwas driving it as long as they worked for him, and the damage wasn’t anywhere near what he claimed it was. Knowing that I was a single mother, knowing how I was struggling to make ends meet and that I was due to move into my first house with all its expenses, he asked this of me. It would be free money for him. When I was done paying the truck off he sold it and made $11,000 more. I would learn any of this until long afterwards.

I was working myself to insanity to pay him back: 95 hours a week from January until July. I know what it means to work like a slave. Two of the three jobs I had were construction jobs that my body couldn’t physically handle and the third was mentally challenging, besides the fact that I had to walk an hour to and from it, literally uphill in the snow, through winter and into summer.

At the very end, the day I handed him the last of the money, I picked up a five gallon bucket full of paint and threw my hip out of its socket. The damage is permanent (at least until I learn how to heal myself) and has never fully healed.

It was my first week in the new house. I couldn’t walk for a week, which meant I couldn’t work for a week. He hated me for that, too. Once I did go back to work he pushed me hard. He wouldn’t allow me to do the required exercises for my hip because I had to lay on the floor to do them. He had a slave~driver’s soul, and while I believed at the time that I was oppressed, I now see the lesson I learned from him was freedom. Looking back I am thankful for it, and wouldn’t trade it for any other experience.

During this time I was listening solely to, interestingly enough, a band named Enslaved, a word that described the way I felt at the time. What’s even more interesting is that this particular album is all about Awakening. I enjoyed the music, but the more I listened to it — on headphones all day long every day — the more it spoke specifically to me about my situation.

“No one steals what no one owns.” it reminded me, causing me to realize that my boss could not take away from me something that was not his: my integrity, my joy, my soul. I would do what was mine to do and he could deal with the karmic backlash of his own actions. With this realization I was able to continue with my grueling schedule.

“Strong is she who realizes ethics built on sacrifice.”
“Fear not the settlement with those who fear the truth. Leave now, say farewell with no grief. Their words have no power, their forces will roam and return.”

After my injury I started going to the Doors for comfort, spending time in the Bluelight of Door One and the night river of Door Two. I began thinking about the next Door to be solved, and one day walked around to the back of the building to see if Six would be beside Five.

Door JadeI could feel that it was. The Door is shaped in a specific Arabic style with a rounded top and straight sides. When I opened the door I found myself on the cover of the Eckankar book.

At Door Six I am in a boat on a huge lake. I can hear the sound of loud waves but the water I am on is still. Ahead of me is an ancient white city, visible but far away, nestled between two mountains with a white peak rising majestically above it. Like the Qliphoth’s branches, which are a Dark Path, the Lake is a PathEckankar of Light, taking lifetimes and eternity to traverse. It’s so difficult to explain these things in human words because these journeys aren’t journeys in any formal sense of the word. We aren’t really traversing anything. It’s like sitting on a couch watching television. You witness many things, experience places you’ve never been before but with your mind. You haven’t actually gone anywhere.

On the boat I’m always smiling. The tempest waves are behind me, which symbolize life before the Path. In this era I learned how to rise above any situation that life could throw at me. I learned how to stop my suffering by no longer weaving the karma of others into my reality. On the boat I look at life and see the perfection of the process. I see that I need do nothing but move forward.

Door Six is Forever. I can sit on the boat whenever I need to be reminded that everything is as it should be.




I was a little disappointed when I first solved Door Seven. The round door opened up into an empty clay room that rose a foot or so in the center. The rising of the floor is due to a mound with a hole in it. After sitting near the hole for a couple of days I crawled in head~first, reappearing on the beach of a world I was already familiar with.

Stilleverden, or Stillworld. My master first took me to this world years ago when I was very new with Him. At that time I was still a very high~stress person. We appeared together beside the white ruins of an ancient building, a wall of arched windows all that remained. He bade me step inside a wrought~iron cage and then spun it around. The process deeply calmed me and I closed my eyes, listening to the air whirring though the bars. Once I was in a still, quiet state, I opened my eyes to see that it was the world that was spinning, while I, myself, was still. This taught me that when we are still inside it is the world that moves. The world can move as it will; it doesn’t have to impact us or draw us into its many illusions.

I replaced the Ativan I had been prescribed for acute anxiety with a variation of this lesson. All lessons we learn can be tailor~made to work for us. In any stressful situation I encountered, I would close myself up in a Black Box until only a thin strip of light could be seen. In that Box nothing could touch me and I was somehow removed from the emotions binding me to the situation. I found that with this technique and others that He showed me, I didn’t need the medicine anymore.

sunsetstilleSeveral years ago Dap Ren returned with me to that place. He explained that it would be beneficial for me to learn how to explore there. He showed me how to pray beside the ruins, facing the sunset which was more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen on Earth, with its shimmering gold and salmon waves. I’m not a praying person, so I was confused as to how I would use the knowledge. I would find out later that He was preparing me for a difficult time in which I would need to go to Stilleverden and pray for a loved one.

The first thing that became very evident to me was that the only life that existed there was flora. There is no fauna to be found. Not a single insect exists there; no beasts of the field, fish in the ocean nor ruling creatures on land. In addition to this, I have yet to see a flowering or fruit~bearing plant there. All is green and lush and gorgeous, but green is all there is.

I started at the ruins and walked west to a waterfall. I couldn’t understand why the stream beneath the waterfall was so shallow, I’d seen nothing like it on Earth. To my thinking there should have been more erosion. I followed the heavily~bouldered stream down to the ocean and realized that the ruins were on top of a cliff. I went back up to them and walked up to the cliff’s edge, where further ruins are found.


As I stood at the precipice it was as if my mind sped across the ocean to three, sharp mountain peaks covered in snow. I saw humanoid forms struggling with large, alien beasts of burden in a pass between two of them, and knew that, once, mammalian life did live here…but no more. Those mountains will be important to me in the future but I’m not sure why. When I think of them they feel like an end.

I eventually returned to the waterfall and explored the highlands around it and the cliff. I found a way down to the beach and explored it as well, finding a strange clearing cut in the thick trees. It was the shape of a square, with some sort of crumbling altar standing there.

StillebeachThis all took a matter of Earth months, and when I got to the beach I sat down beneath a serrate~leafed palm~style tree and decided to quit exploring. I would sit on the beach and watch the moon rise, a beach very much like on on Earth, a moon very much like our own but larger. There is something so safe in knowing that I am the only thing living besides the plants. I canStilleforest fall asleep on the beach without worrying about crabs or some equivalent biting my toes. I can wander through the forests without being bitten by flies. I never have to worry about trespassing on anyone’s land, or being eaten by mountain lion~style creatures. On Stilleverden I learned to trust myself. It is a place I can go for utter solitude, anytime I need to be alone. Sometimes I sit on the cliff and watch the ocean. Sometimes I sleep on the beach beneath the moon. Once you learn to Go other places, you Stillestreamcan be there any time you want, even when there’s a lot going on around you. You can be alone on some alien beach while on the subway, or exploring the mountains during a dinner with your in~laws. There’s no end to the amazing journeys you can take with your mind, which can be used to diffuse strong emotions such as anger or sorrow. Taking a walk along a mountain stream can help to release physical pain.

I thought I had figured all of this out, so when the Seventh Door took me back to the Stillworld beach I was perplexed. Even so, I began exploring again. There is a near~dry stream bed that comes out of the forest and empties into the ocean. I started up it, noticing the increasing size of the boulders with an increase in elevation. I noticed that what little water flowed down the center of it was milky instead of clear. The stream gets steeper and curves to the left. Over weeks I explored the area, coming upon a curious brown shack built to the side of the boulders, but still in the stream. Inside it was dark and empty, with one crude bench and a door in the floor which I didn’t feel lead to explore. I still have not been down there. Perhaps it is for another time, a further lesson. I was very curious as to who would have built shelter in a dry stream bed.

Mt. Rainier Glacier

Around this time I flew out to Seattle to visit friends. They took me to Mt. Rainier, a day~long drive up and around the mountain. I was taken aback at how exquisitely beautiful Washington state is; giant ferns, trees hundreds of years old, moss covering the forest floor. There are fields of wildflowers and waterfalls. But most of all I was shocked that all the answers I had about the Stilleverden stream could be answered by Mt. Rainier.

A particular river at the base of the mountain is named Milk River. The reason for its milky appearance is due to the fact that the water emanates from some 25 glaciers tens of thousands of miles above it. Emmons EmmonsGlacier is a light blue tourmaline colour, the first glacier I had ever seen. I couldn’t stop looking at it, or the mountain itself. Rainier is the largest thing I have ever witnessed on Earth. It felt alive, like a behemoth both frightening and alluring.

MtRainier12_White-River-AfternoonI learned that Milky River, small compared to its bed, is the result of a flood event from the mountain. Many large boulders were carried down by the swollen capacity of the deluge, deposited and left in place once the waters subsided. Someone very well may have thought that it was safe to build a dwelling in the stream bed, since the flood event could have occurred only once in a century.

Seeing firsthand the answers to my questions caused me to realize that I still believed that I was making the whole thing up; that Stilleverden wasn’t real, that it was all a figment of my insane imagination. Experiencing things that cannot be shared with others causes a certain sense of isolation, often causing a new explorer like me to question themselves. That nature proved that what I was seeing was real gave me a lot of confidence and restored faith in myself.

As well, discovering this new information caused me to realize that somewhere at the stream’s origin was a mountain with a glacier. This caused me to become more excited than ever to continue exploring the area. I returned to Stillworld with a fervor, moving up the stream and finding its source to be a large lake and large, white Stillelakemountains in the distance. I noticed that there were two streams flowing from that lake. Eventually I followed the second, smaller stream down through the forest, with its curious, large boulders strewn here and there, to find that it came out as the waterfall I had first visited with my master. The flood event that overflowed the mountain lake seemed to have spilled out and taken two routes through the forest, one to the cliffside and one to the beach.

Last year I took a geology class which introduced me to further information about mountain and stream formation; flood events, stream capacity carrying conglomerates as large, rounded boulders closer to the source and breccia, smaller angular pieces closer to sea level. I learned to recognise how the beach was created from silt deposited in a delta at the stream’s opening to the ocean, and that there was little erosion beneath the waterfall because it was a fairly new edition to the landscape. I learned that the mountains sit atop convergent plates which, sometime in Stillworld’s history, clashed together and caused orogenesis.

I also learned that in the history of the Earth many extinction events caused most life to die. Events such as ice ages, and the catastrophic meteor that killed the dinosaurs, could very well have destroyed all but the most hardy bacteria. As conditions returned to normal, plants would rule the Earth many hundreds of thousands of years before vertebrates re~evolved. I researched further online to find information that explained how plants would have first formed simple and green, later becoming angiosperm, or flowering plants, which would give rise to the evolution of pollinating insects and animals.

Door Seven has been a fascinating exploration for many reasons. The major lesson I learned was to use what resources have been given me. It’s tempting to want to move on after having discovered or explored a certain area, but it’s important to sharpen previously~learned skills by returning to old lessons. Door Seven renewed my faith in myself and the Journey.


Even now mysteries evolve from this lesson. While writing Door Six I looked online for a zoomed picture of Eckankar the book (which I later realized I could take a picture of myself). I came upon several versions of it, each with a different cover. To my astonishment I found a copy of the Book with Stilleverden on it.

In the image an abundant river burbles down in waterfalls, emanating from the lake below the mountains, which are green with thaw. Plant life can be seen, and a cliff, and the moon in the sky. In this image I can see that the flooding event didn’t make two meager streams down the hill but actually flooded the entire forest, which would explain why large boulders are found there.

When I found this picture it was six in the morning, and I ran upstairs to wake my Other. It was an emotional moment, bringing tears to my eyes. My Other was in awe to at last see an image of what he’s only ever heard me attempt to describe. Ever the Path inspires.



My insecurities and dis~beliefs are gone now. I trust the Doors and myself. There was no questioning when entering Door Eight. I walked right in and looked around. The room is clay, completely empty except for the right wall, which holds both a window near the door and a dark mirror at the back of the room. Looking out of the window I noticed that it overlooks the beach and the rainforest behind it, sheltering the waterslide I first slid down from the mountains above. I’d never actually looked back at where I came from before and thinking about how much time had elapsed since then, as well as how much progress I had made, caused me to reminisce long hours before the window.

I went once to the mirror and looked at myself, being reminded of how I look at the Doors; eternally young, flawless and pain~free, the me that dwells inside this physical form. However, I wasn’t sure what to do with the mirror, and spent many days staring out the window reminiscing on all the good that solving the Doors had done me.


During this time in my life I had just started school after seven years of work. I was discovering that my brain could, in fact, learn again, after having become quite rusty in the world of men. I found myself surrounded by brilliant teachers after having been surrounded by hard~working country folk. It was good to find that I could live in both worlds equally; not becoming that distant intellect that I had been afraid to be, yet able to comprehend brilliant minds (if not quite keep up with them). School only embellished who I was as a person in a way that enhanced my strengths and made clear that my weaknesses were –and are– only imagined.

Entering this world of intellect took up most of my time previously spent on spiritual practice. Coming from a background of hard drugs and self~abuse had taken more of a toll on my brain cells than I had expected. In addition, my daughter was the age of my classmates. Being twenty years older means that my brain takes longer to process information than it used to. I found studying and homework to absorb every moment of free time when learning seemed so much easier for those around me.

A particular professor of creative writing caused me to be curious about the nature of genius. Certain people harness time in such a way as to do all things they dream of, somehow warping the hands of the clock to their whim. I found this professor, Sister Mike we called him, to be infinitely both more intelligent and profound than anyone I had ever spent time around. He was so deep that none of us could answer his questions and long hours of thought were spent on homework assignments.

Never Had

I had come into my first class of his a published poet and thought myself to surely be of a higher standard than younger kids in class. But Sister Mike was well beyond my comprehension, and I found that the lessons he was teaching were utterly different than my own style or process. He graded me hard. A great deal of my ego was broken away by his seeming rejection, a challenge that I relished and became hungry for once I was sufficiently humbled enough to recognise its lack of negative intent. I took two more of his classes, addicted to his presence in the way that I had always wanted to be towards a father figure. He knew all the answers I didn’t and I wanted to know more. I began to realize that in addition to his creative knowledge he was a deeply spiritual person, and was awed by the absolute fearlessness he exerted when helping raise the class’s awareness of their own soul. He was father to all, or Sister, shall we say.

My whole life had been spent equally grieving for the world’s pain and feeling I was somehow above it. Because spirituality runs in the family I experienced the mystical at an early age, always searching for anyone to share my hunger for the unknown with. Looking back I realize the lack of equals was due to being so much more lost than I knew. I was, in fact, surrounded by equals. The more we purify ourselves the more pure the quality of people we are surrounded by.

~*On a deeper level still, we realize that every human is equally a wonder*~


Meeting Sister Mike meant meeting what would be come the next step in my evolution: the living master, of which I have met more since then. Being in the presence of such intense Knowing, and yet being embraced by it as an equal, caused me to put away my ego and recognise the powerful lesson I was receiving, to feel the encompassing love of the source from which it sprang.

I began to realize that becoming everything I had planned for myself would require somehow mimicking this living master by moulding time to my own design. This would require a drastic change from my sedentary, thought~filled lifestyle. I wasn’t sure how I could make it happen.

The window behind Door Eight became some sort of epiphany for me, a celebration of Window2turning the sorrow of youth into the joy of adulthood. And yet there was only so much reminiscing I could do before my head turned, once more, to the mirror. What was its purpose? Obviously to see myself, I supposed. I kept imagining that something would happen in the mirror that would give me a sign, but staring into it for long hours did nothing, and the mirror showed no sign of change.

One day I was half~in and half~out of Door Eight, supposedly studying yet standing before the mirror. I pondered its darkness, thinking of what its smoky complexion symbolized to me. Not quite seeing. Not being able to fully see….me. Myself. I looked in the mirror and again saw the me I imagine myself to be, recognising the Me looking back as the evolution of its physical host. I began to imagine what I would be ten years in my future and what all it would take to accomplish the goal of being further progressed towards being Sister Mike~like. I knew there was only one note on that list.

Meditation. Going within. It was time to stop looking out the window at what has been, what is and what could be, and to begin fully looking Within. My first lesson in warping time, genius~style, was to make time in my day for meditation. With this practice everything improves all at once. It was time.

Since Door Eight I have taken baby steps and large leaps towards that goal. It’s important to note here that we don’t have to expect an incredible change in ourselves all at once. If we are in a one~step~a~week lull it is enough. When we are ready to take a leap forward we will meet some new living master, read some incredible new book or hear one passing conversation in the grocery store. I am absolutely honoured to be surrounded by genius now, and humbly joyful to be utterly left behind by it. Once we become masters we will still be surrounded by masters greater than ourselves, and will not look back to those still moving up the path and think they have fallen behind. Instead we will see others as headed up the same path we are, reaching our hand out to them just as so many have reached out to me.

~*When I am who I will be, I will be Light.


I will return here and write the story of every Door as it occurs. I wish now that I had written the full details of every solving as it happened, because each Door has been such an intense and intricate experience, weaving with every epiphany of life.


Your own experience in the Next will be something incredible. Every single excuse we use to keep ourselves from exploring inside is only holding us back.

You create this experience.

If you don’t know how to call for a master, create your own way of calling. Sit in meditation and imagine standing before someone whose face you cannot yet see, or sit in the darkness of your mind, letting your intent be known, and wait for someone to arrive. How will you know if it’s a master? He or She will give you a sign. With Dap Ren, I would look into His eyes and fall into the universe, passing galaxies and stars and nebulae. Take the chance.

If you can’t possibly imagine some other plane of existence, simply lay on your bed and imagine a place that you’d love to go, a place that is all your own that is exactly the way you want it. Walk around and see the sights, smell the scent of the wind, imagine what the sand feels like between your toes. If you don’t know what that feels like, walk barefoot outside, taking mental notes on how it feels, and then go back in and imagine that.

Mt. Rainier

Pick a picture of somewhere on Earth you would love to go. Do research on it until you know all there is to know and then meditate on being there. What you don’t realize is that the more real you make a place, the better chance your soul has of actually going there. You’ll have done all your research and all your exploring and will come upon something during meditation that you didn’t see before, only to research that and find that you were really there. It proves itself to you.

You can even go to the Doors from the descriptions I’ve given you and share your observations with me. The poem that came to me when I first visited the Doors, which you can read in my Dream Log, was a call for others to visit the Doors with me.

Wherever you go and whatever you do, take the chance. It will change everything.