This morning I had a dream right when I woke up, or while I was lying there, half awake. It intruded, suddenly, on my thoughts. I expect it’s an image of a “past life,” real or imagined, here to teach me a lesson.
At first there was a feeling of watching a black and white movie. Suddenly, a brightly colored scene superimposed itself on top of what I was watching, I could still see bits of the other movie around the edges. The new scene was like an old-time serial. The setting was the control cabin of an airship, a dirigible. Around me was of lots of lightweight, spidery aluminum girders. There were some people in a cabin. One, that I took to be the captain, was speaking loudly to me. I was being held by two others, both to restrain me and to hold me up because I had been severely beaten. We were all dressed like wealthy “homeless” people. What I mean is they looked like homeless people dressed for cold weather, with lots of layers of seemingly random mismatched clothes. However the clothes were clean and in good repair, so I guess that was a style. In a lot of ways the scene was like the clothes, mismatched and jumbled.
The captain, may or may not, have been human. It was hard to tell. The image might have been jumbled, or the face wasn’t human. Don’t know which. Either way, the features are impossible to make out, but I’m sure he was angry. I can not remember what he was saying, but it was some kind of warning or threat. Then the there was a cut to a view outside of the airship and I can see a body drop from the bottom into the empty air. I’m pretty sure I was the body falling. I found it easy to flip back and forth between these two scenes and examine them in detail.
While I’m studying these scenes, my stomach pain turns on and there is discomfort in the front of my lower jaw. Like I’d hit it on something, or been hit. My instinct says that this is the origin of my stomach issues, my fear of falling, and the source of my falling nightmares when I was young. (While I was able to conquer the falling dreams while I was still a child, it took me decades to lose my fear of falling in real life.)
I was some kind of spy. Where was a strong feeling of “good guys” verses “bad guys.” That all motives are simple, black and white, there’s no question of what’s right and what’s wrong. Who’s right and who’s wrong. I was very sure that I was a “good guy.”
This seems to be the origin of the reason my teeth are kind of a mess. Up until I was a teenager, my teeth were pretty much perfect, as I can see from old pictures, but when my wisdom teeth came in, they pushed the other teeth forward and now they are jammed together and a bit twisted in the front. I have the idea that the reason that was allowed to occur came from this incident. At some point, I was hit on the chin, maybe more than once, and my jaw was shoved back into my head. This left an imprint of “too small.” So, in this life, my wisdom teeth grew in sideways, facing forward, pushing all my teeth forward. I allowed that because, at that point in my life, my parents were dead and I was on my own with little money and no insurance. I finally did have them taken out, incurring a bill that it took me years to pay off, but the damage was done.
Another interesting thing is that the holes in my jaw, where the wisdom teeth were, has never healed properly. My dentist comments on it, from time to time, saying that I should have an operation to fill them in. But, since they’ve never given me any problem, I don’t see any reason why I should.
Also, lately I’ve been having my attention drawn to those holes during meditation. I’ve been feeling a lot of energy around them and it came to me that, in order for these the heal and rebuild the bone, the thing, the energy, the intension(?) that caused the holes in the first place, first must be removed.
The reason that I experienced that life was to open my mind and lose my naiveté. Human motivations are not simple good vs bad affairs and I needed to understand that there are nuances, and that “good” doesn’t always triumph.
The image is fading fast. I will always probably remember the facts of this “dream,” but in intensity and immediacy has already faded.
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
In search of roots
Yesterday’s meditation led to some surprises that allowed me to “connect the dots” between things that I had no idea were related, and gave me a major Ah Ha, about my life.
Last Sunday was the last day of level I of my hypnotherapy training, and I volunteered to be the client in a demonstration of interview technique. I needed an issue to be interviewed about. Nothing much was going on with me at the time, so I just picked “stomach discomfort.” (It was bothering my very slightly at the time.) To give you a little background, my stomach has be bothering me, on and off, for years. It comes and goes. Occasionally, usually when I under stress, it flairs up into a hard knot, but much of the time it’s not particularly noticeable. Sometimes it becomes a heavy, bloated feeling that can last for weeks and completely erases my appetite. Despite all the years I have been doing this stuff and the work I have done on myself, I have never been able to get a handle on what was going on. In terms of body issues, it has been the oddest duck of all. I could never so much get so much as the tinniest hint about what was behind it. It was just *there,* seemingly without cause or roots.
In the interview process the teacher probed enough to give me some new insights into how it behaved and when it started. I hadn’t really thought about that before. When asked, it seemed to me that I first noticed it when I was 18 or 19 and going to community college. Then I would often get a knot in my stomach sitting in class and heartburn during tests. At the time, I figured that it was caused by having to hunch over in those small chair/desk combination things that schools use. Being six feet tall and left handed, the 4 inch different in height between my elbow and desk caused me to hunch over quite a bit to write notes or take a test. And that’s where we left it, it was just a demonstration after all. I made a mental note to look into it when I got home.
Yesterday I had my chance. Once I was relaxed and in the zone, I was quickly shown that it went back quite a bit further than I thought. I was insistently presented with an incident happened when I was about five years old, even though I thought it had nothing to do with it. I believe I’ve written about it before: it involved me taking a toy from some other yard in the neighborhood, my parents finding out and punishing me while I refused to tell them where I got it from, and my going to considerable lengths to sneak it from my parents return the toy without my parents knowing about it. This incident has been on my mind lately, partly because it seems to me that I behaved rather oddly, almost like a robot, in a way. The more I thought about it, the less sense it made, and, yesterday, I made have discovered why.
With enough digging, I uncovered, what appears to be, a case of sexual abuse involving me, a neighbor girl about the same age and a grown man. Pictures might have been involved. I say maybe because it’s really not clear and I don’t really see a need to make the events clear, what I think is most important is how they effected me.
What I see now is that something happened that I felt really bad about, and I decided that the whole thing was my fault, (there might have been threats involved) especially what happened to the girl. Though it only happened to me once, I suspect now that she had been suffering under it for quite some time. I had wanted to, or liked it, at first, I think, so afterward I decided that emotions were bad, desire was bad, and did my best to I shut off all those emotions from that day forward. Hence that robot-like way I felt during the toy incident. Which, I believe, took place right after the abuse incident.
Other things that came up. One was a disgust of naked bodies, especially young ones. Another was the distrust, fear and/or significant discomfort I had felt around any girl that got close to me while growing up. I suspect that, if it wasn’t for the overwhelming influence of male hormones, I probably would have steered clear of all girls, forever. Though, oddly, I have always felt more comfortable around women than men. On some level, men have always felt threatening to me. It’s not a huge deal, just a vague unease that I don’t have when I’m just around women. This also explains why my relationships have been so dysfunctional for most of my life.
I’m sure that there’s more to discover about this, my stomach is acting up even as I write this. That said, I have since felt a subtle sense of peace in my soul, and getting to sleep last night was noticeably less troubled than I can ever remember it being. So I accomplished something.
As hypnotherapy students, we are warned to never use our skills to attempt to recover lost memories, for good reason. That is why I have worked to steer clear of as much of what happened as possible. I truly only what to know enough to uncover what decisions I made and why I made them so I can process them out, and, at the very least, to get my stomach to stop bothering me.
Last Sunday was the last day of level I of my hypnotherapy training, and I volunteered to be the client in a demonstration of interview technique. I needed an issue to be interviewed about. Nothing much was going on with me at the time, so I just picked “stomach discomfort.” (It was bothering my very slightly at the time.) To give you a little background, my stomach has be bothering me, on and off, for years. It comes and goes. Occasionally, usually when I under stress, it flairs up into a hard knot, but much of the time it’s not particularly noticeable. Sometimes it becomes a heavy, bloated feeling that can last for weeks and completely erases my appetite. Despite all the years I have been doing this stuff and the work I have done on myself, I have never been able to get a handle on what was going on. In terms of body issues, it has been the oddest duck of all. I could never so much get so much as the tinniest hint about what was behind it. It was just *there,* seemingly without cause or roots.
In the interview process the teacher probed enough to give me some new insights into how it behaved and when it started. I hadn’t really thought about that before. When asked, it seemed to me that I first noticed it when I was 18 or 19 and going to community college. Then I would often get a knot in my stomach sitting in class and heartburn during tests. At the time, I figured that it was caused by having to hunch over in those small chair/desk combination things that schools use. Being six feet tall and left handed, the 4 inch different in height between my elbow and desk caused me to hunch over quite a bit to write notes or take a test. And that’s where we left it, it was just a demonstration after all. I made a mental note to look into it when I got home.
Yesterday I had my chance. Once I was relaxed and in the zone, I was quickly shown that it went back quite a bit further than I thought. I was insistently presented with an incident happened when I was about five years old, even though I thought it had nothing to do with it. I believe I’ve written about it before: it involved me taking a toy from some other yard in the neighborhood, my parents finding out and punishing me while I refused to tell them where I got it from, and my going to considerable lengths to sneak it from my parents return the toy without my parents knowing about it. This incident has been on my mind lately, partly because it seems to me that I behaved rather oddly, almost like a robot, in a way. The more I thought about it, the less sense it made, and, yesterday, I made have discovered why.
With enough digging, I uncovered, what appears to be, a case of sexual abuse involving me, a neighbor girl about the same age and a grown man. Pictures might have been involved. I say maybe because it’s really not clear and I don’t really see a need to make the events clear, what I think is most important is how they effected me.
What I see now is that something happened that I felt really bad about, and I decided that the whole thing was my fault, (there might have been threats involved) especially what happened to the girl. Though it only happened to me once, I suspect now that she had been suffering under it for quite some time. I had wanted to, or liked it, at first, I think, so afterward I decided that emotions were bad, desire was bad, and did my best to I shut off all those emotions from that day forward. Hence that robot-like way I felt during the toy incident. Which, I believe, took place right after the abuse incident.
Other things that came up. One was a disgust of naked bodies, especially young ones. Another was the distrust, fear and/or significant discomfort I had felt around any girl that got close to me while growing up. I suspect that, if it wasn’t for the overwhelming influence of male hormones, I probably would have steered clear of all girls, forever. Though, oddly, I have always felt more comfortable around women than men. On some level, men have always felt threatening to me. It’s not a huge deal, just a vague unease that I don’t have when I’m just around women. This also explains why my relationships have been so dysfunctional for most of my life.
I’m sure that there’s more to discover about this, my stomach is acting up even as I write this. That said, I have since felt a subtle sense of peace in my soul, and getting to sleep last night was noticeably less troubled than I can ever remember it being. So I accomplished something.
As hypnotherapy students, we are warned to never use our skills to attempt to recover lost memories, for good reason. That is why I have worked to steer clear of as much of what happened as possible. I truly only what to know enough to uncover what decisions I made and why I made them so I can process them out, and, at the very least, to get my stomach to stop bothering me.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Airplane crash
Last night I had an interesting dream where I was looking at pictures of an airplane crash. I was somewhere looking at three pictures, sitting in front of me, that were clearly from an TV newscast about an airplane crash: They had that blue information bar across the bottom with information with scrolling text about the crash. The pictures looked like there were abut 10x10 and laying on some surface, in a horizontal row. There were in full color and very clear.
The first picture was of the newscaster talking about the crash, the second showed the plane floating in the water, upside down. The plane was a small, swept wing design, and the part I could see was white. I can’t remember the third picture right now, but I have the impression that it was an outdoor scene with plants and brush and was related to the crash.
As the dream on, I was looking at these three pictures, in detail, and thinking about the crash, and then I shifted my attention to another row of pictures below. I don’t remember what was in the second row, except that it was completely unrelated to the first row. (I could remember these when I woke up, but they’re gone now.) After a bit I returned my attention to the pictures in the first row. At the time, it was as though I knew I was dreaming and thought that it was cool that I was able to go back and look at the pictures again whenever I wanted. I was also wondering if, after I woke up, I would be able to find out if this crash had really happened, or would happen.
One odd detail was that the pictures were trembling and shifting slightly, each differently, as though someone was holding each one and their hand was shaking slightly, or, perhaps, they were sitting on a surface outdoors and the wind was blowing strong enough to make flutter and shift a bit.
I wanted to write this down just in case there was the remotest chance that I might see these pictures again sometime. If I have this, I hope it will jog my memory and allow me to remember my dream. Not that it will prove anything, but it would just be cool and would tell me something about my own mind.
The first picture was of the newscaster talking about the crash, the second showed the plane floating in the water, upside down. The plane was a small, swept wing design, and the part I could see was white. I can’t remember the third picture right now, but I have the impression that it was an outdoor scene with plants and brush and was related to the crash.
As the dream on, I was looking at these three pictures, in detail, and thinking about the crash, and then I shifted my attention to another row of pictures below. I don’t remember what was in the second row, except that it was completely unrelated to the first row. (I could remember these when I woke up, but they’re gone now.) After a bit I returned my attention to the pictures in the first row. At the time, it was as though I knew I was dreaming and thought that it was cool that I was able to go back and look at the pictures again whenever I wanted. I was also wondering if, after I woke up, I would be able to find out if this crash had really happened, or would happen.
One odd detail was that the pictures were trembling and shifting slightly, each differently, as though someone was holding each one and their hand was shaking slightly, or, perhaps, they were sitting on a surface outdoors and the wind was blowing strong enough to make flutter and shift a bit.
I wanted to write this down just in case there was the remotest chance that I might see these pictures again sometime. If I have this, I hope it will jog my memory and allow me to remember my dream. Not that it will prove anything, but it would just be cool and would tell me something about my own mind.
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Another unexpected past life
Yesterday, I needed to do a simple example hypnosis session for my hypnosis class and one of my daughters volunteered. I was to take her under, down a path to a safe place and meet a "wise being." But when she got to the path, she first pictured an forest then it changed to an arid landscape with a red sky, smoke, clouds and volcanos in the distance. The path was a path of bones. Her "safe" place was a cave. I was suspecting a PL at this point.
The first time I called in the "wise being," she saw nothing. I tried again, by telling her that a helpful being was inside the cave and it was coming out to help her. Now she saw a being of waving light. It gave her a gift fresh, clean air, and advice to go deeper into the cave where there was water. She was told that the reason she was here was to "See the beginning of life." Clearly this was a past life, so I went with it:
She was a rat-like creature that lived in the cave with her mate and about 20 babies. She was male with brown and grey fur. Things were very hard. They ate the babies that were too weak to survive, and the mate, when she died from starvation because she gave all her food to the babies. After a few months, it rained, for the first time. Some time later she was killed by a bird, or something with feather and claws. When asked, she said that the purpose of that life was to see life begin again.
Afterward, she was a little surprised, and said it was weird. She said I sounded funny, so she laughed at first, but then she got used to it. I wasn't expecting a past life, but I seem to be getting that a lot lately.
The first time I called in the "wise being," she saw nothing. I tried again, by telling her that a helpful being was inside the cave and it was coming out to help her. Now she saw a being of waving light. It gave her a gift fresh, clean air, and advice to go deeper into the cave where there was water. She was told that the reason she was here was to "See the beginning of life." Clearly this was a past life, so I went with it:
She was a rat-like creature that lived in the cave with her mate and about 20 babies. She was male with brown and grey fur. Things were very hard. They ate the babies that were too weak to survive, and the mate, when she died from starvation because she gave all her food to the babies. After a few months, it rained, for the first time. Some time later she was killed by a bird, or something with feather and claws. When asked, she said that the purpose of that life was to see life begin again.
Afterward, she was a little surprised, and said it was weird. She said I sounded funny, so she laughed at first, but then she got used to it. I wasn't expecting a past life, but I seem to be getting that a lot lately.
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
I'm up against it
I just finished my first three, eight-hour, days of hypnosis training. It’s a lot to take in, a lot to practice, absorb and own. And I’m “Up against it.” “It” started near the end of the second day, and that night I had two, “visions,” if you will, one joyful and one disturbing.
Near the end of the second day, my stomach began to bother me. Nothing major, but a small discomfort that gradually grew until it was pretty nasty by evening. It’s been bothering me on and off for months. Lately it’s been quiet, but it really began to amp up when I volunteered to participate in the last demonstration of the day.
The demonstration was on Skill Rehearsal, which is walking the client through something they want to practice without actually doing it. Though it’s really big in sports right now, it can be used for practically anything. It I can help improve skill, and reduce anxiety, depending on what you need. The skill I picked was a cold reading in a theatrical audition. (I was a little surprised that no one there had ever heard that term!) I found myself balking as the instructor lead me through the process, I was feeling embarrassed and stupid because I picked such a lame thing to work on. I worked through it, as best I could, but I was really uncomfortable and, actually, afraid. I don’t know what I was afraid of, but there you are. It’s now two days later and that feeling of fear and panic still hasn’t left.
After the exercise, we were talking and someone mentioned that they knew of an improv group, and the first thing that came out of my mouth was “I suck at improv!” Where did that come from?! And, at the same time, I saw a brick wall in my minds eye. That was the barrier that keeps me from going “off script” when I speak. It doesn’t need to be in public, but there needs to be a least one other person present. I call it the “deer in the headlights” feeling, where I freeze, mentally and physically, when the unexpected happens.
Later that night I had two scenes come into my head. A cool, positive one, that I don’t remember, and a disturbing one that is firmly entrenched in my memory. In that scene, there was a woman in front of me with large breasts that stuck straight out, about a foot, like handles. She had no face, the front of her head was blank. I was grasping both breasts, one in each hand, and squeezing as hard as I could. These breasts felt more like rubber than natural flesh. As I was squeezing, I was totally present to the feelings in my hands and arms as they were trembling with the effort. In my mind was the certainty that I would be released, if I just squeezed hard enough and I absolutely could not wait any longer. I had to get out RIGHT NOW!
I’m at a loss to understand what it meant. I shared it with the teacher the next morning, but she couldn’t offer any useful insights either. Since then, my stomach has been really bothering me, and sleep has been trial since I now have a huge sense of urgency that just will not leave me alone. It attaches to everything around me and I feel that, if I’m not careful, I could just lose it in a panic to “get things done.”
That’s enough for today. I will continue working.
Near the end of the second day, my stomach began to bother me. Nothing major, but a small discomfort that gradually grew until it was pretty nasty by evening. It’s been bothering me on and off for months. Lately it’s been quiet, but it really began to amp up when I volunteered to participate in the last demonstration of the day.
The demonstration was on Skill Rehearsal, which is walking the client through something they want to practice without actually doing it. Though it’s really big in sports right now, it can be used for practically anything. It I can help improve skill, and reduce anxiety, depending on what you need. The skill I picked was a cold reading in a theatrical audition. (I was a little surprised that no one there had ever heard that term!) I found myself balking as the instructor lead me through the process, I was feeling embarrassed and stupid because I picked such a lame thing to work on. I worked through it, as best I could, but I was really uncomfortable and, actually, afraid. I don’t know what I was afraid of, but there you are. It’s now two days later and that feeling of fear and panic still hasn’t left.
After the exercise, we were talking and someone mentioned that they knew of an improv group, and the first thing that came out of my mouth was “I suck at improv!” Where did that come from?! And, at the same time, I saw a brick wall in my minds eye. That was the barrier that keeps me from going “off script” when I speak. It doesn’t need to be in public, but there needs to be a least one other person present. I call it the “deer in the headlights” feeling, where I freeze, mentally and physically, when the unexpected happens.
Later that night I had two scenes come into my head. A cool, positive one, that I don’t remember, and a disturbing one that is firmly entrenched in my memory. In that scene, there was a woman in front of me with large breasts that stuck straight out, about a foot, like handles. She had no face, the front of her head was blank. I was grasping both breasts, one in each hand, and squeezing as hard as I could. These breasts felt more like rubber than natural flesh. As I was squeezing, I was totally present to the feelings in my hands and arms as they were trembling with the effort. In my mind was the certainty that I would be released, if I just squeezed hard enough and I absolutely could not wait any longer. I had to get out RIGHT NOW!
I’m at a loss to understand what it meant. I shared it with the teacher the next morning, but she couldn’t offer any useful insights either. Since then, my stomach has been really bothering me, and sleep has been trial since I now have a huge sense of urgency that just will not leave me alone. It attaches to everything around me and I feel that, if I’m not careful, I could just lose it in a panic to “get things done.”
That’s enough for today. I will continue working.
Sunday, February 15, 2015
A world with a view
I overheard some classmates talking about the many worlds hypothesis (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Many-worlds_interpretation), yesterday. You know, the idea that there are an infinite number of parallel worlds, or alternate timelines, each one expressing one of the many possible outcome of every decision or choice made throughout history. Some timelines would be almost exactly like ours, except for one tiny change, and others would be vastly different, depending on how many changes there were. Often this is portrayed as a tangle of separate threads of existence, each one evolving on it’s own after branching off from another thread. One new theory even says that time travel might be possible, because time could move at different rates in alternate timelines, so that you could move into the past or future by crossing to another timeline where time was moving slower or faster.
while I was listening to that I had an idea. I was imagining that instead of discrete, individual timelines, that perhaps there was a continuous spectrum of possibility. When I was in college, I got ahold of a large, high-quality prism from an army surplus store. This was an optical quality component that would probably cost $100 or more if you got it from an optical supply house, but this place was selling them for a buck apiece as part of a surplus tank periscope. I’m not sure this guy knew what he had, or he wouldn’t have sold them so cheap.
Anyway, in the place were is was living at the time I had a window that faced south-west, and had direct sun most of the day. I also had an optical quality mirror about a foot square that came out of a copy machine or something. Playing around, I discovered that if I stood the prism on top of the mirror, put them both on my window sill and adjusted the prism just right, I could get a rainbow to go through my bedroom door and stretch a long way down the wall of a relatively dark hallway. I was fascinated by the rich colors, especially the dark purples on the edge of visibility. One thing that I noticed was, that no matter how much you stretched out the spectrum, there was never any division between the colors. There were always more and finer distinctions between the colors to be found.
What if reality was like that, that there were infinitely fine divisions between the alternate timelines?
Imagine that reality was like a bundle of an infinite number of threads, each thread an infinitely tiny range of possibilities. These threads are so fine, so close together, and so similar as to be virtually indistinguishable to us. What if, instead of the conventional model, where every decision creates a new branch, what is really going on is that all possible timelines already exist, and we slip between them by making decisions in our lives. Another way of looking at it would be to say that we experience a world by focusing on a particular point in the continuum of possibility. If that was the case, all we’d need to do to change our lives, is change our point of focus, like tuning to a different station on the radio to pick up a different station.
This could be a mechanism to explain how things like The Secret and The Power of Intention work. We don’t change reality with our intensions, instead we change which of the possible realities out there that we perceive. In a way, we take control of our destiny by consciously and deliberately selecting which of the available threads of possibility we will live into.
I don’t know if I’ve made myself clear here, but I’ve tried. If you have questions, please let me know and I will try and answer them. For my part, I think this a an exiting way to look at life and the universe.
while I was listening to that I had an idea. I was imagining that instead of discrete, individual timelines, that perhaps there was a continuous spectrum of possibility. When I was in college, I got ahold of a large, high-quality prism from an army surplus store. This was an optical quality component that would probably cost $100 or more if you got it from an optical supply house, but this place was selling them for a buck apiece as part of a surplus tank periscope. I’m not sure this guy knew what he had, or he wouldn’t have sold them so cheap.
Anyway, in the place were is was living at the time I had a window that faced south-west, and had direct sun most of the day. I also had an optical quality mirror about a foot square that came out of a copy machine or something. Playing around, I discovered that if I stood the prism on top of the mirror, put them both on my window sill and adjusted the prism just right, I could get a rainbow to go through my bedroom door and stretch a long way down the wall of a relatively dark hallway. I was fascinated by the rich colors, especially the dark purples on the edge of visibility. One thing that I noticed was, that no matter how much you stretched out the spectrum, there was never any division between the colors. There were always more and finer distinctions between the colors to be found.
What if reality was like that, that there were infinitely fine divisions between the alternate timelines?
Imagine that reality was like a bundle of an infinite number of threads, each thread an infinitely tiny range of possibilities. These threads are so fine, so close together, and so similar as to be virtually indistinguishable to us. What if, instead of the conventional model, where every decision creates a new branch, what is really going on is that all possible timelines already exist, and we slip between them by making decisions in our lives. Another way of looking at it would be to say that we experience a world by focusing on a particular point in the continuum of possibility. If that was the case, all we’d need to do to change our lives, is change our point of focus, like tuning to a different station on the radio to pick up a different station.
This could be a mechanism to explain how things like The Secret and The Power of Intention work. We don’t change reality with our intensions, instead we change which of the possible realities out there that we perceive. In a way, we take control of our destiny by consciously and deliberately selecting which of the available threads of possibility we will live into.
I don’t know if I’ve made myself clear here, but I’ve tried. If you have questions, please let me know and I will try and answer them. For my part, I think this a an exiting way to look at life and the universe.
Saturday, February 14, 2015
Going places together
Another week of the Mutual Awaking seminar. This week I did the class exercise an additional two times outside of the course. The exercise attempts to bring two people into the same collective space of consciousness. It works like this: There are two people, first one says “I’m experiencing…” finishing that statement with whatever they want, over and over again, for ten minutes, while the other listens in silence. Then the other does the same while the first listens. Then they alternate, saying “We experience…” for ten minutes. Yes, that sounds a bit strange, and I can’t say definitely that anything psychic happens, but it can be a pretty cool exercise.
While you can probably do it in person, I have always done it over the phone, with my eyes closed. I find that I just follow my intuition and say whatever comes into my head. If I’m not the first, I start by feeding off of things the other person says. The first time, the other person started out being very concrete, just talking about what was around them: Sights, sounds, the feel of the sun, and so on. When it was my turn, I started out talking about what I was seeing in my mind’s eye: Bright yellows and greens, among other things. But later on I talked about seeing the other person sitting in shadow. I didn’t think much of that at the time, but later the person mentioned that while I was talking they had moved inside. I thought that was kind of cool.
When we got to the “we” portion, we started to build a shared “imagining.” I don’t remember exactly what it was, but I started with a beach and we both kept adding to it with more details and events. Eventually night fell and the starts came out and we ended up with something glorious!
I did the exercise again, a short while later, with someone else. I noticed, right off the bat, how different the experience was. We both commented afterwards that the “shared space” felt completely different each time we did it. The more times I do it the the cooler it gets. Maybe I’m getting better at it. If nothing else, it’s a really cool way to stimulate shared creativity. If I was a visual artist, I would try and capture some of the images I see in these sessions. As it is, I will just have to remember them.
It doesn’t always work out so well. One time, last week, I was paired with someone who mumbled through their portion, and I couldn’t understand a word they said. Then, when we got to the “we” portion, I said “We are experiencing…” and the response ways “No we’re not.” I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, and the other person had nothing either and we just waited out the rest of the time. I think it’s kind of sad, that person spent a lot of money on the seminar and wasn’t willing try and get any value out of it. On the other hand, I was probably that person ten years ago, so, perhaps they are just beginning their own journey.
On a positive note, I started my hypnotherapy training today. Fun, a little confronting, but I plan to make it all worth it. I fumbled through my practice sessions like a rank beginner, but that’s alright, it’s my first day. And hypnosis is pretty forgiving, especially when you are working with experienced and cooperative people. We are a class of five people, and I expect we will know each other pretty well four months from now. There’s a lot of tricks to get under my belt, but I’m not worried. I have time.
While you can probably do it in person, I have always done it over the phone, with my eyes closed. I find that I just follow my intuition and say whatever comes into my head. If I’m not the first, I start by feeding off of things the other person says. The first time, the other person started out being very concrete, just talking about what was around them: Sights, sounds, the feel of the sun, and so on. When it was my turn, I started out talking about what I was seeing in my mind’s eye: Bright yellows and greens, among other things. But later on I talked about seeing the other person sitting in shadow. I didn’t think much of that at the time, but later the person mentioned that while I was talking they had moved inside. I thought that was kind of cool.
When we got to the “we” portion, we started to build a shared “imagining.” I don’t remember exactly what it was, but I started with a beach and we both kept adding to it with more details and events. Eventually night fell and the starts came out and we ended up with something glorious!
I did the exercise again, a short while later, with someone else. I noticed, right off the bat, how different the experience was. We both commented afterwards that the “shared space” felt completely different each time we did it. The more times I do it the the cooler it gets. Maybe I’m getting better at it. If nothing else, it’s a really cool way to stimulate shared creativity. If I was a visual artist, I would try and capture some of the images I see in these sessions. As it is, I will just have to remember them.
It doesn’t always work out so well. One time, last week, I was paired with someone who mumbled through their portion, and I couldn’t understand a word they said. Then, when we got to the “we” portion, I said “We are experiencing…” and the response ways “No we’re not.” I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, and the other person had nothing either and we just waited out the rest of the time. I think it’s kind of sad, that person spent a lot of money on the seminar and wasn’t willing try and get any value out of it. On the other hand, I was probably that person ten years ago, so, perhaps they are just beginning their own journey.
On a positive note, I started my hypnotherapy training today. Fun, a little confronting, but I plan to make it all worth it. I fumbled through my practice sessions like a rank beginner, but that’s alright, it’s my first day. And hypnosis is pretty forgiving, especially when you are working with experienced and cooperative people. We are a class of five people, and I expect we will know each other pretty well four months from now. There’s a lot of tricks to get under my belt, but I’m not worried. I have time.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Afternoon Encounter
A fellow QHT practitioner posted this video on the practitioner forum: Mary Rodwell about Starchildren & Starseeds. I thought it was interesting and listened to it before bed. I was interested enough that I looked around a bit for a some more stuff from May Rodwell before I went to sleep.
That night I had a long series of dreams, and didn’t get much rest. The dreams were about seeing hyper-realistic pictures in my mind and being able to control them. The first one I remember is I was looking down at my hand that was holding a large check. I mean physically large. Not the small ones that like you have in your checkbook, but the large ones that companies use. I don’t remember the amount of the check, but it was significant. Behind my hand was a cluttered desk that I don’t recognize. I remember having plenty of time to study the image. I noted that I could see it in my usual fuzzy way, or have it snap into sharp focus where I could study each detail.
It seemed to me that the rest of the night was spent seeing different pictures. I could call to mind whatever I wanted to see. Create whatever reality I wanted. It was exciting and I was trying and creating everything I could think of. A lot of the time I was focused on creating a new reality for myself, seeing my future where I was doing all the cool stuff I dream of: writing, giving lectures, speaking at events, working with people and groups, and traveling.
The next morning, I didn’t remember any of this when I woke up, but the entire day I felt jittery and anxious, like I was afraid that I was forgetting something important. I couldn’t really focus on anything, I couldn’t relax and my head felt weird.
In the afternoon, I recalled an incident from the day before where I offered my services to a prospective client, without prompting, for only $20. It hit he really hard that I was sabotaging myself. I felt really bad and wanted to cry. Later, in meditation, “They don’t love me!” came up very strongly. I took me a while to process that through.
While I was meditating, I was playing another Mary Rodwell video: Mary Rodwell Part 1 Bases Conference Lecture, more or less chosen randomly because I wanted to hear more Mary Rodwell and this one was long.
After I had processed off the emotional edge to the “They don’t love me!” phrase, things took an unusual turn, I started feeling a strong pain in my chest. It was not quite centered, but a little to the left. This pain was dynamic. I came and went, got stronger and weaker, changed shape and moved around. While I was puzzling about the pain, some of the words from the video caught my attention, about alien encounters, and drawings people had made. I glanced at the screen and one of the faces caught my eye. A short while later I was seeing it in my minds eye, as if a person was standing at the foot of my bed, looking at me.
I got, “I am your father,” and “the other guy didn’t know anything.” Then I saw a bunch of little round heads running back and forth in front of him. Whatever they were, they were so short that I could only see the top part of their bald heads. Seeing them caused me chills and shakes for a while, then I calmed down.
Next, my perspective changed, like I was lying on a bed that had been tilted up, and now was laying down flat. The pain in my chest kept morphing and at different points pains ran up to my shoulders. First the left, then a while later, the right. I repeatedly heard “it’s damaged, ” “he’s damaged.” At no time was I afraid or nervous.
After a while, the face moved around to my right side, a little past my head, and there was more than one of them. Then my right arm and hand raised. It was like someone was examining it. Pulling it this way and that, testing all the joints, looking at the fingers and both sides of my hand. This was done gently, pretty much like any doctor would to it. At this time I again heard “Damaged,” and “Repair.” Then I felt heat and other sensations moving throughout my forearm, palm and fingers, like they were doing some kind of energetic healing. After a while, my arm moved down to my side and there was an impression of it being wrapped, like in a bandage or cast. At this point I got the distinct feeling that this was happening right now! It wasn’t some kind of memory but a real-time experience on some parallel level.
After that I kept listening to the video, while certain things she said kept triggering reactions and feelings from my mind and body. Eventually I decided that I needed to get up and get on with my day. And then the first thing I did was to write this down.
That night I had a long series of dreams, and didn’t get much rest. The dreams were about seeing hyper-realistic pictures in my mind and being able to control them. The first one I remember is I was looking down at my hand that was holding a large check. I mean physically large. Not the small ones that like you have in your checkbook, but the large ones that companies use. I don’t remember the amount of the check, but it was significant. Behind my hand was a cluttered desk that I don’t recognize. I remember having plenty of time to study the image. I noted that I could see it in my usual fuzzy way, or have it snap into sharp focus where I could study each detail.
It seemed to me that the rest of the night was spent seeing different pictures. I could call to mind whatever I wanted to see. Create whatever reality I wanted. It was exciting and I was trying and creating everything I could think of. A lot of the time I was focused on creating a new reality for myself, seeing my future where I was doing all the cool stuff I dream of: writing, giving lectures, speaking at events, working with people and groups, and traveling.
The next morning, I didn’t remember any of this when I woke up, but the entire day I felt jittery and anxious, like I was afraid that I was forgetting something important. I couldn’t really focus on anything, I couldn’t relax and my head felt weird.
In the afternoon, I recalled an incident from the day before where I offered my services to a prospective client, without prompting, for only $20. It hit he really hard that I was sabotaging myself. I felt really bad and wanted to cry. Later, in meditation, “They don’t love me!” came up very strongly. I took me a while to process that through.
While I was meditating, I was playing another Mary Rodwell video: Mary Rodwell Part 1 Bases Conference Lecture, more or less chosen randomly because I wanted to hear more Mary Rodwell and this one was long.
After I had processed off the emotional edge to the “They don’t love me!” phrase, things took an unusual turn, I started feeling a strong pain in my chest. It was not quite centered, but a little to the left. This pain was dynamic. I came and went, got stronger and weaker, changed shape and moved around. While I was puzzling about the pain, some of the words from the video caught my attention, about alien encounters, and drawings people had made. I glanced at the screen and one of the faces caught my eye. A short while later I was seeing it in my minds eye, as if a person was standing at the foot of my bed, looking at me.
I got, “I am your father,” and “the other guy didn’t know anything.” Then I saw a bunch of little round heads running back and forth in front of him. Whatever they were, they were so short that I could only see the top part of their bald heads. Seeing them caused me chills and shakes for a while, then I calmed down.
Next, my perspective changed, like I was lying on a bed that had been tilted up, and now was laying down flat. The pain in my chest kept morphing and at different points pains ran up to my shoulders. First the left, then a while later, the right. I repeatedly heard “it’s damaged, ” “he’s damaged.” At no time was I afraid or nervous.
After a while, the face moved around to my right side, a little past my head, and there was more than one of them. Then my right arm and hand raised. It was like someone was examining it. Pulling it this way and that, testing all the joints, looking at the fingers and both sides of my hand. This was done gently, pretty much like any doctor would to it. At this time I again heard “Damaged,” and “Repair.” Then I felt heat and other sensations moving throughout my forearm, palm and fingers, like they were doing some kind of energetic healing. After a while, my arm moved down to my side and there was an impression of it being wrapped, like in a bandage or cast. At this point I got the distinct feeling that this was happening right now! It wasn’t some kind of memory but a real-time experience on some parallel level.
After that I kept listening to the video, while certain things she said kept triggering reactions and feelings from my mind and body. Eventually I decided that I needed to get up and get on with my day. And then the first thing I did was to write this down.
Friday, February 6, 2015
Dissociation
This morning I was going over considerations about some possible consulting work. The people involved can be very difficult, or one could say, impossible, to work with, so there was a lot to thing about. I was pondering fees, and various contract provisions to protect me in case things went sideways. Of course, I have certain reservations about the whole idea, but I could use the money, so it’s worth considering.
Looking at the feelings that were coming up, I noticed one that seemed unusually strong and out of place. When I focused in on it, I could see that it came from the context of being a little boy, and was that mixture of fear and self-reproach that hits you when you realize that your parents have just caught you in something you can’t wriggle out of. I followed that back as far as I could, and I came across a memory from when I was about 5 or 6 years old.
That incident happened before we moved out to California and we were living in suburban Massachusetts. Apparently I had been walking back home, probably from a neighbors’ house, on a route that took me through the backyards of the houses on our street. For those of you that don’t know, neighborhoods from that time and place usually didn’t have fences around the yards, or, if they did, the they were simple, split-rail fences that were easy to climb over or through. Even for a five year old.
On my way, I had passed by a neighbors sandbox and had taken a toy truck, of some kind. When I got home, my parents noticed it and demanded that I tell them where it came from. I refused to tell them. I’m sure I was scared, but, for some reason, I felt like I didn’t recognize their authority in this matter. (I must have been a real brat.) That whole part is vague, but the result was that they put the toy on the top of a tall bookcase and said it would remain there until I told them where it came from. Later that day, when my mom took a nap and everybody else was gone, and I climbed up, got the toy and took it back to where I got it. I have no memory of what happened after that.
I my later years, I was terrified of my father, so why I would refuse to tell him something is completely beyond me. What I can remember is that I felt that it was none of their business, and I would take care of it myself as soon as the left me alone. (That is something that carries over to this day: When I make a mistake or screw something up, I prefer to do whatever it takes to fix it myself rather than admit it before it’s taken care of.) That was odd, but what really caught my attention was the fact that I was completely suppressing my emotions. I mean that my mind was completely blank and cold and I didn’t say, or do, or even think, anything I didn’t absolutely have to. It’s a bit unnerving to realize that I had shut down and completely dissociated at that young an age.
That makes me wonder, what had happened to cause that? I have no memory or hint of memory of anything so traumatic that I needed to wall myself off for protection. The one brother I still have contact hasn’t mentioned anything either. On the other hand, alcoholism runs in my family, as well as a strong tendency to be, shall we say, “relationship challenged,” so I probably should not be surprised at the idea that something was going on in those early years. I noticed before that I have some memories of being a baby and in a crib, and then memoiries from around 5 or 6, but nothing in between.
Whatever happened, it has taken me almost six decades to undo the consequences. Although, like most people, I’m still a work in progress, I can say that I’m way happier, healthier and more satisfied with my life now than at any time before. I really can’t complain, though I will continue to puzzle over what happened back then and why I chose the response I did.
Looking at the feelings that were coming up, I noticed one that seemed unusually strong and out of place. When I focused in on it, I could see that it came from the context of being a little boy, and was that mixture of fear and self-reproach that hits you when you realize that your parents have just caught you in something you can’t wriggle out of. I followed that back as far as I could, and I came across a memory from when I was about 5 or 6 years old.
That incident happened before we moved out to California and we were living in suburban Massachusetts. Apparently I had been walking back home, probably from a neighbors’ house, on a route that took me through the backyards of the houses on our street. For those of you that don’t know, neighborhoods from that time and place usually didn’t have fences around the yards, or, if they did, the they were simple, split-rail fences that were easy to climb over or through. Even for a five year old.
On my way, I had passed by a neighbors sandbox and had taken a toy truck, of some kind. When I got home, my parents noticed it and demanded that I tell them where it came from. I refused to tell them. I’m sure I was scared, but, for some reason, I felt like I didn’t recognize their authority in this matter. (I must have been a real brat.) That whole part is vague, but the result was that they put the toy on the top of a tall bookcase and said it would remain there until I told them where it came from. Later that day, when my mom took a nap and everybody else was gone, and I climbed up, got the toy and took it back to where I got it. I have no memory of what happened after that.
I my later years, I was terrified of my father, so why I would refuse to tell him something is completely beyond me. What I can remember is that I felt that it was none of their business, and I would take care of it myself as soon as the left me alone. (That is something that carries over to this day: When I make a mistake or screw something up, I prefer to do whatever it takes to fix it myself rather than admit it before it’s taken care of.) That was odd, but what really caught my attention was the fact that I was completely suppressing my emotions. I mean that my mind was completely blank and cold and I didn’t say, or do, or even think, anything I didn’t absolutely have to. It’s a bit unnerving to realize that I had shut down and completely dissociated at that young an age.
That makes me wonder, what had happened to cause that? I have no memory or hint of memory of anything so traumatic that I needed to wall myself off for protection. The one brother I still have contact hasn’t mentioned anything either. On the other hand, alcoholism runs in my family, as well as a strong tendency to be, shall we say, “relationship challenged,” so I probably should not be surprised at the idea that something was going on in those early years. I noticed before that I have some memories of being a baby and in a crib, and then memoiries from around 5 or 6, but nothing in between.
Whatever happened, it has taken me almost six decades to undo the consequences. Although, like most people, I’m still a work in progress, I can say that I’m way happier, healthier and more satisfied with my life now than at any time before. I really can’t complain, though I will continue to puzzle over what happened back then and why I chose the response I did.
Thursday, February 5, 2015
Soul Asking for Help?
I never thought I would report something like what I’m now going to describe. It’s not a big deal, as such things go, but it’s way outside of my comfort zone in terms of what I’m willing to admit to people I know, and the public in general. When I have heard in the past, (and even now to a certain extent) other people tell me stories like this, I immediately put the filters go up and my mind goes to places like “nut case,” “attention seeker,” or worse. Much worse. Though I have schooled myself to not show any of this. But, there quickly appears a second voice that wonders, “What if?” and “Am I sure I know everything?” In any case, holding oneself up for that kind of public scrutiny is not a decision I take lightly, but there you are.
Here we go. Last night I woke up about 1:30 in the morning. I didn’t know why and I was having a hard time getting back to sleep. That is a bit odd, because wakefulness usually means I have something on my mind. That something is bugging me and keeping my mind going. But while I was clearly wound up a bit about something, there just wasn’t anything significant on my mind.
These days, it’s fairly common that waking up is a sign that I need to get up and write, but not this time. For there was just nothing there, no topic topic hanging out, wanting to be developed and written down. I also asked my Higher Self and got nothin’ there either.
So I considered, what else could there be to get me up at this hour? The idea slowly grew that there was something, someone, some being, in the room that wanted my attention. I really don’t like the idea that entities are coming to me in the night, asking for help. I’m sorry, but that’s just a bit too much the classic, B-movie medium shtick to be real. Right? Well, it was late and I was tired, so I figured I’d just go with it and get it over with.
There did seem to be an entity in the room. It was hard to sense because it was so dim and seemed sad. I don’t pretend that I had any kind of conversation with it, but I did my best, playing spiritual “20 Questions” to try and understand what was up. Eventually I figured out that it was, in some sense, lost. How that happened I have no idea. But I started both a prayer and a conversation that it would find the Light so it could make it out of this world and into the next. It took some time and I’m afraid that my mind tended to wander, but the being did leave, eventually, and I was able to go back to sleep.
On a related note, I have noticed that my new treatment room seems to have some disturbing feelings about it. Perhaps the energy isn’t right. (Boy, there’s something else that I’d have bet real money that I would never say!) So I’ve embarked on a cleansing program for the room. I’m not real sure what I’m doing, but I’ve cleaned, dusted and vacuumed everything, moved my crystals and other paraphernalia in there and am starting a series of mediations to see what’s what.
It didn’t occur to me until today that I had to so a similar program of cleansing in my other daughter’s room when I took that over. There was nothing specifically wrong, the room just felt off. My program seemed to work. By the time I started working with clients in there, it had settled down considerably. It was much more comfortable and friendly.
So, there you are. Am I actually more sensitive, or am I just paying attention to things that heretofore I have ignored? Hard to say. But, there have always been places that made me uncomfortable or just felt weird, especially some workplaces. In the past I just told my feelings to shut up and got down to work. Although I did my best to ignore the feelings, I can see, now that I look back, that being in those places took a toll on my creativity, productivity and peace of mind. I’m now leaning in the direction that there is something to all this energy stuff, but I’m not super comfortable with it. There’s just not anything solid that I can hang my hat on. The proof is in the pudding, as they say, and since “what works should not be summarily discarded,” is good, practical, advice for success in any endeavor, I will continue on and see where I end up.
Here we go. Last night I woke up about 1:30 in the morning. I didn’t know why and I was having a hard time getting back to sleep. That is a bit odd, because wakefulness usually means I have something on my mind. That something is bugging me and keeping my mind going. But while I was clearly wound up a bit about something, there just wasn’t anything significant on my mind.
These days, it’s fairly common that waking up is a sign that I need to get up and write, but not this time. For there was just nothing there, no topic topic hanging out, wanting to be developed and written down. I also asked my Higher Self and got nothin’ there either.
So I considered, what else could there be to get me up at this hour? The idea slowly grew that there was something, someone, some being, in the room that wanted my attention. I really don’t like the idea that entities are coming to me in the night, asking for help. I’m sorry, but that’s just a bit too much the classic, B-movie medium shtick to be real. Right? Well, it was late and I was tired, so I figured I’d just go with it and get it over with.
There did seem to be an entity in the room. It was hard to sense because it was so dim and seemed sad. I don’t pretend that I had any kind of conversation with it, but I did my best, playing spiritual “20 Questions” to try and understand what was up. Eventually I figured out that it was, in some sense, lost. How that happened I have no idea. But I started both a prayer and a conversation that it would find the Light so it could make it out of this world and into the next. It took some time and I’m afraid that my mind tended to wander, but the being did leave, eventually, and I was able to go back to sleep.
On a related note, I have noticed that my new treatment room seems to have some disturbing feelings about it. Perhaps the energy isn’t right. (Boy, there’s something else that I’d have bet real money that I would never say!) So I’ve embarked on a cleansing program for the room. I’m not real sure what I’m doing, but I’ve cleaned, dusted and vacuumed everything, moved my crystals and other paraphernalia in there and am starting a series of mediations to see what’s what.
It didn’t occur to me until today that I had to so a similar program of cleansing in my other daughter’s room when I took that over. There was nothing specifically wrong, the room just felt off. My program seemed to work. By the time I started working with clients in there, it had settled down considerably. It was much more comfortable and friendly.
So, there you are. Am I actually more sensitive, or am I just paying attention to things that heretofore I have ignored? Hard to say. But, there have always been places that made me uncomfortable or just felt weird, especially some workplaces. In the past I just told my feelings to shut up and got down to work. Although I did my best to ignore the feelings, I can see, now that I look back, that being in those places took a toll on my creativity, productivity and peace of mind. I’m now leaning in the direction that there is something to all this energy stuff, but I’m not super comfortable with it. There’s just not anything solid that I can hang my hat on. The proof is in the pudding, as they say, and since “what works should not be summarily discarded,” is good, practical, advice for success in any endeavor, I will continue on and see where I end up.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
Thoughts About Ethics and Reincarnation
I was reading the textbook for the next class in my hypnosis training. It’s about ethics.
In reading the first chapter, I found it difficult to keep my attention on the page. Not because it was hard to understand or boring, but because practically every sentence took my mind off on a tangent. I would think about examples or the implications of what I had just read. I read each sentence more times than I can count, each time I kept thinking of more connections. My mind wandered so far I frequently forgot what paragraph I was reading.
In this country, people protest abortion, yet don’t lift a finger to save a child dying of hunger, neglect or lack of medical care. We send people off to war to kill others, to die, or worse, come back injured and requiring expensive medical care that we balk at giving them. Even though we promised to take care of them. The same parties that insist that every unborn child has a right to live, are strangely silent when the children they “save” are gunned down in a elementary school.
We consider it reasonable, even necessary, to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars to extend the life of a critically ill patient a few weeks or months, when that same money, spent to help poor rural children in, say, West Virginia, would have a much bigger impact on the lives of the children, their community and the state as a whole. It’s hard to look at all this and not think that people are extremely selfish, self-centered and morally blind to anyone and anything outside their small circle.
Consider our views of death. Google “Child death inspires” and see how many laws, programs and life changes there are that would never have happened but for the death of a child. Often it took a death to get anyone to act on a problem that many people knew about, but did nothing about. Children in this country die literally every day, practically every hour. Why does it take one of our own to wake us up?
What would happen if, somehow, we had prevented all these deaths. All those law and a programs would never have happened. Then what? A cynical person would say that everything around us would steadily more dangerous. Food, cars, houses, transportation, medicine, appliances, everything would get worse and worse as companies and individuals cut corners, and continued to cut corners until, finally, someone died and they had to stop.
If you want proof, just look around you: The google search you just did shows you lots of child deaths, more than half of them were preventable. Even with all the laws and safeguards we already have in place, thousands of children die each year from reasons that are well known, and they would not have happened, if laws, regulation and guidelines had been followed. So why do they happen? Why do parents leave their children in hot cars until they die, despite warning and laws. I can’t help but wonder how many mothers attending anti-abortion rallies have left their children, unattended, in their cars. Why is it so easy to point the finger at someone else, rather than in the mirror?
I keep thinking about a case I heard about, probably some years ago, where a mother had a child that had some congenital defect and died around the age of four or five. The child was such a light, such a loving and happy child, despite his condition, that he inspired his mother to dedicate the rest of her life helping other children. What would have happened if science found a way to keep the child alive? Would the mother have spent the rest of her life caring for him alone? What would of happened to all the other children that the mother would have helped? Would they have been left to suffer, fail and die, due to lack of support? But we can’t exchange one life for another, or even many others. Can we? But, don’t we do that all the time, when we send soldiers off to war?
If reincarnation was accepted as possible, how would that change the equation? Would that be a good or a bad thing? For instance, what if the mother above knew that her child volunteered to be born with that disability and short lifespan in order to inspire the resulting expanding ripple of love and support for others. Would that have changed things? Would she have felt manipulated? Decided not to help others?
Would society fall apart if we all knew that death wasn’t “the end?” Look around you, at Ads. You see them everywhere. Take a minute, look, and think: How many of them are about making you afraid of something? Something that the advertised product just happens to be the cure or solution to. Afraid you’re not good looking enough? Makeup, clothes, hair products, skin care products. Worried about your health: Diets, pill, health food, organics, supplements. Afraid you don’t know what’s going on: Magazines, “Best sellers,” Oprah, talk shows, pundits, Twitter, Instagram, etc.. Of being alone: Facebook, dating sights, chat rooms. Of getting old, of being too young, of not having enough money, of too much money, Of being too fat, too thin, too young, too old, being too smart, not smart enough, being too busy, not having anything to do. There’s an old advertising adage: “Create a need and fill it.“ We are so far past real needs that most of us have never known anything but artificial needs created by advertisers to sell products.
What happens to the economy when there is no deadline to “get it now, before it’s too late?” When “You only go around once in life,” is completely false, why should you endanger your health and life for a little excitement? On the other hand, if we all believed that we all have as many chances as we need and we play (and have played) all the parts: rich/poor, smart/dumb, oppressor/oppressed, king/serf, man/woman, black/white, passionate/lazy, inspired/board? What would that do to the lessons we are here to learn?
You could make a case that telling someone about their past could sabotage their current life. They are here to experience something and telling them it’s all a game would ruin it. I don’t buy that. My experience and everything I’ve read points to one inescapable fact in this world: people will only believe what they want to believe. If you’re not ready to deal with reincarnation, if would interfere with your life-plan, then you won’t believe it. You may not even notice it. That’s the ultimate irony of the attempts of leaders to protect their “faith” by shielding followers from “wrong” ideas: If your faith is true, incompatible idea will have absolutely no effect on you. On the other hand, if you find you are open to new ideas, if doubts and alternatives hang out in the back of your mind, then your “faith” is nothing more that dogma with no grounding in any kind of spiritual truth.
That’s my thoughts for today.
In reading the first chapter, I found it difficult to keep my attention on the page. Not because it was hard to understand or boring, but because practically every sentence took my mind off on a tangent. I would think about examples or the implications of what I had just read. I read each sentence more times than I can count, each time I kept thinking of more connections. My mind wandered so far I frequently forgot what paragraph I was reading.
In this country, people protest abortion, yet don’t lift a finger to save a child dying of hunger, neglect or lack of medical care. We send people off to war to kill others, to die, or worse, come back injured and requiring expensive medical care that we balk at giving them. Even though we promised to take care of them. The same parties that insist that every unborn child has a right to live, are strangely silent when the children they “save” are gunned down in a elementary school.
We consider it reasonable, even necessary, to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars to extend the life of a critically ill patient a few weeks or months, when that same money, spent to help poor rural children in, say, West Virginia, would have a much bigger impact on the lives of the children, their community and the state as a whole. It’s hard to look at all this and not think that people are extremely selfish, self-centered and morally blind to anyone and anything outside their small circle.
Consider our views of death. Google “Child death inspires” and see how many laws, programs and life changes there are that would never have happened but for the death of a child. Often it took a death to get anyone to act on a problem that many people knew about, but did nothing about. Children in this country die literally every day, practically every hour. Why does it take one of our own to wake us up?
What would happen if, somehow, we had prevented all these deaths. All those law and a programs would never have happened. Then what? A cynical person would say that everything around us would steadily more dangerous. Food, cars, houses, transportation, medicine, appliances, everything would get worse and worse as companies and individuals cut corners, and continued to cut corners until, finally, someone died and they had to stop.
If you want proof, just look around you: The google search you just did shows you lots of child deaths, more than half of them were preventable. Even with all the laws and safeguards we already have in place, thousands of children die each year from reasons that are well known, and they would not have happened, if laws, regulation and guidelines had been followed. So why do they happen? Why do parents leave their children in hot cars until they die, despite warning and laws. I can’t help but wonder how many mothers attending anti-abortion rallies have left their children, unattended, in their cars. Why is it so easy to point the finger at someone else, rather than in the mirror?
I keep thinking about a case I heard about, probably some years ago, where a mother had a child that had some congenital defect and died around the age of four or five. The child was such a light, such a loving and happy child, despite his condition, that he inspired his mother to dedicate the rest of her life helping other children. What would have happened if science found a way to keep the child alive? Would the mother have spent the rest of her life caring for him alone? What would of happened to all the other children that the mother would have helped? Would they have been left to suffer, fail and die, due to lack of support? But we can’t exchange one life for another, or even many others. Can we? But, don’t we do that all the time, when we send soldiers off to war?
If reincarnation was accepted as possible, how would that change the equation? Would that be a good or a bad thing? For instance, what if the mother above knew that her child volunteered to be born with that disability and short lifespan in order to inspire the resulting expanding ripple of love and support for others. Would that have changed things? Would she have felt manipulated? Decided not to help others?
Would society fall apart if we all knew that death wasn’t “the end?” Look around you, at Ads. You see them everywhere. Take a minute, look, and think: How many of them are about making you afraid of something? Something that the advertised product just happens to be the cure or solution to. Afraid you’re not good looking enough? Makeup, clothes, hair products, skin care products. Worried about your health: Diets, pill, health food, organics, supplements. Afraid you don’t know what’s going on: Magazines, “Best sellers,” Oprah, talk shows, pundits, Twitter, Instagram, etc.. Of being alone: Facebook, dating sights, chat rooms. Of getting old, of being too young, of not having enough money, of too much money, Of being too fat, too thin, too young, too old, being too smart, not smart enough, being too busy, not having anything to do. There’s an old advertising adage: “Create a need and fill it.“ We are so far past real needs that most of us have never known anything but artificial needs created by advertisers to sell products.
What happens to the economy when there is no deadline to “get it now, before it’s too late?” When “You only go around once in life,” is completely false, why should you endanger your health and life for a little excitement? On the other hand, if we all believed that we all have as many chances as we need and we play (and have played) all the parts: rich/poor, smart/dumb, oppressor/oppressed, king/serf, man/woman, black/white, passionate/lazy, inspired/board? What would that do to the lessons we are here to learn?
You could make a case that telling someone about their past could sabotage their current life. They are here to experience something and telling them it’s all a game would ruin it. I don’t buy that. My experience and everything I’ve read points to one inescapable fact in this world: people will only believe what they want to believe. If you’re not ready to deal with reincarnation, if would interfere with your life-plan, then you won’t believe it. You may not even notice it. That’s the ultimate irony of the attempts of leaders to protect their “faith” by shielding followers from “wrong” ideas: If your faith is true, incompatible idea will have absolutely no effect on you. On the other hand, if you find you are open to new ideas, if doubts and alternatives hang out in the back of your mind, then your “faith” is nothing more that dogma with no grounding in any kind of spiritual truth.
That’s my thoughts for today.
Monday, February 2, 2015
Comforting a Lonely Spirit
Today I had an interesting meditation. I did it while listening to The Crossing Point of Light A Workshop with Dr Steven Greer Maybe it’s odd to do that. Perhaps I should listen to music or just silence. I find that different things trigger different experiences, like when I watched that documentary about the oldest cities in the word and it triggered memories of living in them. This, not so much. I wasn’t sure what to expect, and it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. A lot of these UFO things focus on fear and conspiracies. This one, less so, but it was still pretty dry and not too interesting to me.
When I meditate, it seems that I go through a period of calming down, then a blank time, then a part where it seems like my body is asleep but my mind is awake. Today, nothing interesting happened until I was in the third part.
I have generally found the third part to be a bit frustrating. It seems to me that since my body is in this really relaxed state, I should be able to go on some amazing mind trips. But I can’t, as a rule. Today was no exception, though I can’t be sure why, since odd things have been happening or not happening of late.
For lack of anything better to do, I set about doing some healing of my left leg. There’s really nothing technically wrong with it, but lately it I’m getting really odd vibes about it. It feels like the foot want to curl under when I’m not looking, causing twisted ankles if I’m not careful. And, from time to time, I gett the feeling that it’s not there. Like I’d lost it at some point. This makes me a little nervous, I don’t know what this might mean. What it might cause to happen. At any rate, today I was letting the energy flow into my leg and trying to do something about, what looked to me like “stuck” energy, when I felt someone next to me.
That someone was sad and lonely and seemed to be crying. It could have been someone I know, maybe not. I had no idea what to do except give her all the comfort and love I could. It seemed like a “her.” I tried to make her feel loved. I did everything I could for a while, and then she was gone. At the point I decided it was time to wrap it up and get on with my day.
I wonder if I just make this stuff up. This entity shows up, from time to time, sometimes very affectionate, sometime aloof. This is the first time it was sad. It seems like a woman, but not always. There are periods when it disappears for a time. At those times, if I look very carefully, I can sometimes just make it out. It’s very faint. No way to know if I’m just imagining it or not. Perhaps it’s attention is somewhere else. This is the first time I’ve see it sad. And it was very sad. I could feel the despair and loneliness as strong as my own. I want to think I helped, but I expect I’ll never know. I’ll never know if it’s even attached to a living person. And so we’re back to that annoying question of, Is this real?
Well, I’ve spent most of my life saying that anything that made me uncomfortable, didn’t exist, was just my imagination. Now I’m just going to go with it. It is what it is and it means what it means, and someday I’ll find out what that is, or I won’t. Fine either way.
When I meditate, it seems that I go through a period of calming down, then a blank time, then a part where it seems like my body is asleep but my mind is awake. Today, nothing interesting happened until I was in the third part.
I have generally found the third part to be a bit frustrating. It seems to me that since my body is in this really relaxed state, I should be able to go on some amazing mind trips. But I can’t, as a rule. Today was no exception, though I can’t be sure why, since odd things have been happening or not happening of late.
For lack of anything better to do, I set about doing some healing of my left leg. There’s really nothing technically wrong with it, but lately it I’m getting really odd vibes about it. It feels like the foot want to curl under when I’m not looking, causing twisted ankles if I’m not careful. And, from time to time, I gett the feeling that it’s not there. Like I’d lost it at some point. This makes me a little nervous, I don’t know what this might mean. What it might cause to happen. At any rate, today I was letting the energy flow into my leg and trying to do something about, what looked to me like “stuck” energy, when I felt someone next to me.
That someone was sad and lonely and seemed to be crying. It could have been someone I know, maybe not. I had no idea what to do except give her all the comfort and love I could. It seemed like a “her.” I tried to make her feel loved. I did everything I could for a while, and then she was gone. At the point I decided it was time to wrap it up and get on with my day.
I wonder if I just make this stuff up. This entity shows up, from time to time, sometimes very affectionate, sometime aloof. This is the first time it was sad. It seems like a woman, but not always. There are periods when it disappears for a time. At those times, if I look very carefully, I can sometimes just make it out. It’s very faint. No way to know if I’m just imagining it or not. Perhaps it’s attention is somewhere else. This is the first time I’ve see it sad. And it was very sad. I could feel the despair and loneliness as strong as my own. I want to think I helped, but I expect I’ll never know. I’ll never know if it’s even attached to a living person. And so we’re back to that annoying question of, Is this real?
Well, I’ve spent most of my life saying that anything that made me uncomfortable, didn’t exist, was just my imagination. Now I’m just going to go with it. It is what it is and it means what it means, and someday I’ll find out what that is, or I won’t. Fine either way.
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