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.
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.
Over 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.
Whether 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.
At 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 first 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 and 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.
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.
The Banks of This River is Night ~ Peccatum
on promises of sweet tomorrows
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 went 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 my 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.
“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.
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 Field. 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 ectoplasmic 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 people. 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 was 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. We 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. 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.
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.
Being 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 Earth 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
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 pouring 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 paths 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 was 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.
I 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 Path 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.
Several 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.
This 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 can 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 can 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.
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 Glacier 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.
I 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 mountains 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.
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 turning 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.
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.