This regression starts with me being a mermaid. I'm floating in a fresh water lake the is relatively shallow. At least the part I'm in is shallow. The water is clear and the bottom is uneven with large hills and valleys covered with growth. There is a place nearby with large, floating, growths that look like kelp. I don't really look too much like the pictures in storybooks. My bottom half is suitably fishy, but above the waist I only resemble a human. I have two arms and a head, but the face is strange, with gills on the cheeks. No ears. My hair is short and light colored and I seem to be carrying a long stick.
In the next scene, I'm male and I look about the same as the female, as far as I can tell. I am carrying a spear, basically a sharpened pole, that seems to be made of wood, but I don't know where the wood comes from. I get the impression of cutting and shaping it by rubbing it on stones or shells. We don't use stones, just shells for cutting, sometimes. There are several other "people" around and we're hunting something large. I never really got a good idea what it looked like, but that it was about the size of a small killer whale and dangerous.
When I asked about home, I got a picture of a large cave. Many of us "lived" there. I use lived loosely, for we basically just needed a place to keep our stuff and sleep in safety. We didn't cook or prepare food, congregate, or have much of a civilization at all. Communication was minimal. Young were able to care for themselves at birth, so parent felt no real responsibility for them or towards them. We only had minimal language and communication, mostly used for hunting, and I perceived little social interaction. It was a very lonely life.
I died on a hunt, after being severely bitten by the thing we were hunting. The purpose of that life was to experience and understand loneliness. This is very relevant to me now. Most of my life I was afraid of people and hid out as much as possible, but now I realize that is a miserable, and more important, stagnant way to be. I am now in the process of building a community of people I can relate to, who will support me while I support them.
Thursday, December 11, 2014
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Damm the expense (or schedule)! Full speed ahead!
I am looking at this on-line course: Mutual Awakening with Patricia Albere. It's sixteen weeks of lecture and discussion. I'm thinking about it and seriously want to take it, but I'm a little afraid of the cost and commitment, but at the end of this post I'll probably have talked myself into it. I heard about it from an interview that I stubbled upon but can't find now. It's way too easy to lose something on the internet...
The main premise of the course, as I understand it, is that you can only go so far as an individual, but for the planet to awaken and us to evolve as a species, we need to learn how to work collectively. Not just work together, but to actually merge at a fundamental level and begin to experience the oneness we all strive for. This resonates with me. As soon as I heard that I realized that I only wake up in the presence of others, working by myself kills my spirit. Connecting with the right people is what life is all about. It doesn't have to be face to face, as long as it's real time. And it really has to be connecting, on some level, just bitching or complaining or gossiping really is not where it's at. No, every conversation doesn't have to be deep and meaningful, I can be as silly as anyone. But when you are true to yourself, there's a certain ring of honesty that comes through, no matter what you're saying, that doesn't leave your listeners with a bad taste in their mouths.
I have also had some amazing experiences in group training and interactions that just could not have happened in any kind of self-study or meditation. There was on time at a seminar where I had a moment of, telepathy? with a zen monk I was talking to. We had finished talking and had both turned away to sit down when I had the distinct feeling that she had said something to me. So I turned back and she was looking at me, with her eyes a bit wide, and I said, "I thought you said something..." She said no, but it was clear she had gotten the same message. That kind of thing doesn't happen on your own.
More to the point, perhaps, I had an experience, in one seminar, with an exercise that made it feel like my partner and I merged into one being. That's something you don't soon forget. It was such a simple exercise too. If you were trying to form a team, one that had to do globally important work, what would it be like if they were all able to feel as one, even if only briefly?
The class would be difficult, time wise. It's on the same night as choir rehearsals, and the first class is on the same day as the open-house introduction for my hypnosis courses. (Why does everything have to be on Tuesdays!?) I should be able to make to make it work though. The classes are from 5pm to 7pm and rehearsals don't start til 7:30. Plenty of time, if I eat during the discussion portion. (Ug!) I would need to manage that for sixteen weeks!
So I have lot's of reasons to blow off the course, money, time, but, on the plus side, I would be meeting a bunch of new people and, hopefully, forging some new friendships and, perhaps, extending my credibility as a healer and getting more clients? I know, ever the mercenary. But if my goal is to help people, I can't do that if nobody knows about me.
And, the thing is, I really do want to connect with people. That is something that, for most of my life, I've always avoided, but now, that I've finally gotten over whatever fear was holding me back in that area, I just want to throw myself into it, whole hog. Damm the expense (or schedule)! Full speed ahead! (See, what did I tell you?)
The main premise of the course, as I understand it, is that you can only go so far as an individual, but for the planet to awaken and us to evolve as a species, we need to learn how to work collectively. Not just work together, but to actually merge at a fundamental level and begin to experience the oneness we all strive for. This resonates with me. As soon as I heard that I realized that I only wake up in the presence of others, working by myself kills my spirit. Connecting with the right people is what life is all about. It doesn't have to be face to face, as long as it's real time. And it really has to be connecting, on some level, just bitching or complaining or gossiping really is not where it's at. No, every conversation doesn't have to be deep and meaningful, I can be as silly as anyone. But when you are true to yourself, there's a certain ring of honesty that comes through, no matter what you're saying, that doesn't leave your listeners with a bad taste in their mouths.
I have also had some amazing experiences in group training and interactions that just could not have happened in any kind of self-study or meditation. There was on time at a seminar where I had a moment of, telepathy? with a zen monk I was talking to. We had finished talking and had both turned away to sit down when I had the distinct feeling that she had said something to me. So I turned back and she was looking at me, with her eyes a bit wide, and I said, "I thought you said something..." She said no, but it was clear she had gotten the same message. That kind of thing doesn't happen on your own.
More to the point, perhaps, I had an experience, in one seminar, with an exercise that made it feel like my partner and I merged into one being. That's something you don't soon forget. It was such a simple exercise too. If you were trying to form a team, one that had to do globally important work, what would it be like if they were all able to feel as one, even if only briefly?
The class would be difficult, time wise. It's on the same night as choir rehearsals, and the first class is on the same day as the open-house introduction for my hypnosis courses. (Why does everything have to be on Tuesdays!?) I should be able to make to make it work though. The classes are from 5pm to 7pm and rehearsals don't start til 7:30. Plenty of time, if I eat during the discussion portion. (Ug!) I would need to manage that for sixteen weeks!
So I have lot's of reasons to blow off the course, money, time, but, on the plus side, I would be meeting a bunch of new people and, hopefully, forging some new friendships and, perhaps, extending my credibility as a healer and getting more clients? I know, ever the mercenary. But if my goal is to help people, I can't do that if nobody knows about me.
And, the thing is, I really do want to connect with people. That is something that, for most of my life, I've always avoided, but now, that I've finally gotten over whatever fear was holding me back in that area, I just want to throw myself into it, whole hog. Damm the expense (or schedule)! Full speed ahead! (See, what did I tell you?)
Monday, December 8, 2014
The Master
A storified version of a dream I had some years ago:
“Shush, will you, you'll wake Billy,” this was a harsh whisper in the dark. Too late, I thought, I’m already awake. Even though the sky was still dressed for evening, dawn was not far away.
“What are you guys up to?” I asked.
“None of your business weirdo, just go back to sleep.”
That was my brother Mark. Just a couple of years older but he lived in a completely different world. A teenager.
I sat up and looked at them, two silhouettes in the dark, my brother and his best friend Tom. They were obviously up to something-and I thought I knew what.
“You're going to see the Master, aren't you,” I whispered accusingly.
“What if we are,” my brother shot back, “What's it to you?”
“You TOLD him!” Tom almost exploded.
“Shut up,” my brother said, “you'll wake my parents.”
“But you know what He said...” Tom started, somewhat more quietly.
“I didn't TELL him anything,” my brother continued, “the little snoop listens.” While they were talking, my brother had finished putting his shoes on and the both started out the window.
“I want to come too,” I said, in a rush, before it was too late.“Yah right!” my brother tossed over his shoulder, continuing to open the window.
“Yah,” sneered Tom, a bit of a weasel, “only those Invited can come.”
As if being Invited is anything special, I thought to myself. “I don't care.” I whined back, ” I can go if I want to.”
“Forget it,” my brother said, now halfway out the window.
“I'll tell,” I said, playing my trump card.
My bother was now standing on the porch roof, his body bent at an angle because the edge of the roof was a little bit to right of the window. He paused, turned and looked at me, his eyes, visible despite the dark, caused a shiver to run down my spine. I though he was going to hit me.
“Whatever,” said Tom quickly, for he knew that look, “let the little snot come…if he can.” “You'd better keep up,” he said to me, “don't expect us to wait for you!”
“It doesn't matter anyway,” my brother muttered, still looking at me, “the Master will take care of him.” With that his head disappeared and Tom started out the window.
I think he might have been looking forward to seeing what the Master would do to me. That bothered me a little, but I pushed the thought from my mind and got up and threw on my clothes as fast as I could. In truth, I really had no idea what was going on. I had overheard just enough to know that something secret was up, and I wanted in.
I slipped out the window after they were both gone, pausing just long enough to see which direction they were heading. I had climbed out of our window before, but never in the this much hurry. I had no time to look around as I flung myself carelessly for the porch roof and scrabbled for the forward edge. The air was cool and smelled of dew and pine trees as I dropped quickly to the ground, slipping on the damp grass. I paid no attention to the scratches and scrapes I picked up in my haste. I scrambled to my feet and sprinted across the lawn. When I hit the sidewalk, I could see them a few houses down and pushed harder to catch up. I carved through the air like a racing sloop. The air flowed around me, lifting the back of my shirt, ruffling my hair and cooling my shoes, damp from dewy grass.
“We'd better move it,” Tom was saying as I caught up, “the sun's almost up. You know what he said...”
“Yeah, yeah. Dawn.” My brother cut him off. He didn't like anyone telling him anything. They both ignored me.
I didn’t even have a chance to catch my breath before they took off down the street toward the beach, jackets fluttering in the still air. Even though the big elms along the street were still in their full summer leaf, we could easily find our way through their shadows. Not that it mattered, we could find our way blindfolded. We had walked this way to the beach nearly every day during that summer.
No one spoke the rest of the way. The sun still wasn't up when we crossed the last street and stepped onto the sand. The mountains on the other side of the bay were hard black silhouettes that would release the sun at any moment. We were just in time.
Out across the glassy water we saw a five small boats, hooked together prow to stern and looking like a kiddy circus train from an amusement park. The lead boat was shinny black and shaped like an old-fashioned train engine in a cartoon. It was puffing smoke in stylized puffs, each one separate and fluffy and growing larger before it faded into the sky. Each of the boats were different, but all were brightly colored and cartoon shaped. They looked ridiculous and somehow sinister on a real bay, winding through real sailboats, heading for the shore.
Driving the lead boat was a figure that I took to be the Master. Cartoonish, like his train, thin and dressed in a shiny black coat and top hat. He had a large head, impossibly thin arms and legs and large hands and feet. He drove the train like an engineer, right up to the edge of the water as though he was pulling into a station. A part of my mind wondered about that, how any boat could come so close to the shore without grounding in the shallow water.
I just stared as the train pulled to a stop and Master stepped out onto the sand. He stood still for a moment, watching us, then he smiled and tipped his hat. Then I realized that my brother and Tom, who had kept on walking when I stopped, were a lot closer than I was and, with a shout, had started to run again. I was way behind.
I started to run across the soft sand, feet sinking in and sand flying off my shoes. I had to watch my feet to keep from stumbling over the uneven sand. That beach seemed a million miles wide, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t seem to get any closer to the water. I began to get seriously worried when I looked up and saw my brother within a few steps of the train. I tried to speed up, but then something grabbed both feet and I fell face first into the sand.
I was sure it was the Master. He was holding my feet! I tried to kick and pull my legs free and spit sand out of my mouth at the same time. I kept my eyes closed to protect them from the sand as I thrashed around, unable to loosen my legs even a little. Finally I broke down and cried. “I want to go,” I whined to myself.
I opened my tear-filled eyes and turned my head around to plead with the Master. The whine died half-formed in my mouth when I saw my dad holding my feet. I stared for a moment then looked back in front of me again. No beach. I saw…grass, our front yard and the front of our house from the point of view of someone hanging head-first out my bedroom window.
I dimly heard shouting and crying as my dad pulled me inside. I was confused and out of touch, and my face hurt. Where was the beach? What happened? A weird dream? I became aware that my dad was saying something. “Where was Mark?” “How the heck do I know,” I thought, though it was too much effort to answer. I was numb with confusion and disappointment, and completely detached as I watched my parents. I was already too far gone to even try to understand them as they drifted further and further away and the blackness closed in.
When I woke up the next morning, things had calmed down a bit. But they were never the same, for that was the last time I saw my brother. I was the last time anyone saw my brother or Tom. No one knew what to make of my story, least of all me, but I think that Mark, like many teenagers, was trying to get away from his past and, unfortunately for him, he found a way.
“Shush, will you, you'll wake Billy,” this was a harsh whisper in the dark. Too late, I thought, I’m already awake. Even though the sky was still dressed for evening, dawn was not far away.
“What are you guys up to?” I asked.
“None of your business weirdo, just go back to sleep.”
That was my brother Mark. Just a couple of years older but he lived in a completely different world. A teenager.
I sat up and looked at them, two silhouettes in the dark, my brother and his best friend Tom. They were obviously up to something-and I thought I knew what.
“You're going to see the Master, aren't you,” I whispered accusingly.
“What if we are,” my brother shot back, “What's it to you?”
“You TOLD him!” Tom almost exploded.
“Shut up,” my brother said, “you'll wake my parents.”
“But you know what He said...” Tom started, somewhat more quietly.
“I didn't TELL him anything,” my brother continued, “the little snoop listens.” While they were talking, my brother had finished putting his shoes on and the both started out the window.
“I want to come too,” I said, in a rush, before it was too late.“Yah right!” my brother tossed over his shoulder, continuing to open the window.
“Yah,” sneered Tom, a bit of a weasel, “only those Invited can come.”
As if being Invited is anything special, I thought to myself. “I don't care.” I whined back, ” I can go if I want to.”
“Forget it,” my brother said, now halfway out the window.
“I'll tell,” I said, playing my trump card.
My bother was now standing on the porch roof, his body bent at an angle because the edge of the roof was a little bit to right of the window. He paused, turned and looked at me, his eyes, visible despite the dark, caused a shiver to run down my spine. I though he was going to hit me.
“Whatever,” said Tom quickly, for he knew that look, “let the little snot come…if he can.” “You'd better keep up,” he said to me, “don't expect us to wait for you!”
“It doesn't matter anyway,” my brother muttered, still looking at me, “the Master will take care of him.” With that his head disappeared and Tom started out the window.
I think he might have been looking forward to seeing what the Master would do to me. That bothered me a little, but I pushed the thought from my mind and got up and threw on my clothes as fast as I could. In truth, I really had no idea what was going on. I had overheard just enough to know that something secret was up, and I wanted in.
I slipped out the window after they were both gone, pausing just long enough to see which direction they were heading. I had climbed out of our window before, but never in the this much hurry. I had no time to look around as I flung myself carelessly for the porch roof and scrabbled for the forward edge. The air was cool and smelled of dew and pine trees as I dropped quickly to the ground, slipping on the damp grass. I paid no attention to the scratches and scrapes I picked up in my haste. I scrambled to my feet and sprinted across the lawn. When I hit the sidewalk, I could see them a few houses down and pushed harder to catch up. I carved through the air like a racing sloop. The air flowed around me, lifting the back of my shirt, ruffling my hair and cooling my shoes, damp from dewy grass.
“We'd better move it,” Tom was saying as I caught up, “the sun's almost up. You know what he said...”
“Yeah, yeah. Dawn.” My brother cut him off. He didn't like anyone telling him anything. They both ignored me.
I didn’t even have a chance to catch my breath before they took off down the street toward the beach, jackets fluttering in the still air. Even though the big elms along the street were still in their full summer leaf, we could easily find our way through their shadows. Not that it mattered, we could find our way blindfolded. We had walked this way to the beach nearly every day during that summer.
No one spoke the rest of the way. The sun still wasn't up when we crossed the last street and stepped onto the sand. The mountains on the other side of the bay were hard black silhouettes that would release the sun at any moment. We were just in time.
Out across the glassy water we saw a five small boats, hooked together prow to stern and looking like a kiddy circus train from an amusement park. The lead boat was shinny black and shaped like an old-fashioned train engine in a cartoon. It was puffing smoke in stylized puffs, each one separate and fluffy and growing larger before it faded into the sky. Each of the boats were different, but all were brightly colored and cartoon shaped. They looked ridiculous and somehow sinister on a real bay, winding through real sailboats, heading for the shore.
Driving the lead boat was a figure that I took to be the Master. Cartoonish, like his train, thin and dressed in a shiny black coat and top hat. He had a large head, impossibly thin arms and legs and large hands and feet. He drove the train like an engineer, right up to the edge of the water as though he was pulling into a station. A part of my mind wondered about that, how any boat could come so close to the shore without grounding in the shallow water.
I just stared as the train pulled to a stop and Master stepped out onto the sand. He stood still for a moment, watching us, then he smiled and tipped his hat. Then I realized that my brother and Tom, who had kept on walking when I stopped, were a lot closer than I was and, with a shout, had started to run again. I was way behind.
I started to run across the soft sand, feet sinking in and sand flying off my shoes. I had to watch my feet to keep from stumbling over the uneven sand. That beach seemed a million miles wide, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t seem to get any closer to the water. I began to get seriously worried when I looked up and saw my brother within a few steps of the train. I tried to speed up, but then something grabbed both feet and I fell face first into the sand.
I was sure it was the Master. He was holding my feet! I tried to kick and pull my legs free and spit sand out of my mouth at the same time. I kept my eyes closed to protect them from the sand as I thrashed around, unable to loosen my legs even a little. Finally I broke down and cried. “I want to go,” I whined to myself.
I opened my tear-filled eyes and turned my head around to plead with the Master. The whine died half-formed in my mouth when I saw my dad holding my feet. I stared for a moment then looked back in front of me again. No beach. I saw…grass, our front yard and the front of our house from the point of view of someone hanging head-first out my bedroom window.
I dimly heard shouting and crying as my dad pulled me inside. I was confused and out of touch, and my face hurt. Where was the beach? What happened? A weird dream? I became aware that my dad was saying something. “Where was Mark?” “How the heck do I know,” I thought, though it was too much effort to answer. I was numb with confusion and disappointment, and completely detached as I watched my parents. I was already too far gone to even try to understand them as they drifted further and further away and the blackness closed in.
When I woke up the next morning, things had calmed down a bit. But they were never the same, for that was the last time I saw my brother. I was the last time anyone saw my brother or Tom. No one knew what to make of my story, least of all me, but I think that Mark, like many teenagers, was trying to get away from his past and, unfortunately for him, he found a way.
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Outside of the funhouse
Every time I think my life couldn't get any stranger, it does. Maybe, at some point, down the road, none of what I'm going to say will be particularly unusual, but for now it's taking a little getting used to.
Tonight I re-aquainted myself with some people I hadn't seen in a while, and I noticed some connections which were beyond my reach the last time I saw them. (My, how much rings have changed.) One, who I've know for, maybe, eight years, and have always had some affection for, was clearly my sister in a previous life. We were both sisters, and she was the youngest. Although she's older than me, this time around, and I've always thought her a bit, well, odd, I've always felt a noticeable affection and a bit of protectiveness towards her.
Ok, no big deal at this point. I've been seeing connections a lot lately, so what's one more? Well, one thing I forgot to mention when I wrote up my life as a shaman, was that my "father" in that life was also someone knew from before. He's not here, in this life, but we've worked together before and probably will again, just not this time. So, now I have connections from other lives to this life, and other lives to other lives, what else is there? I'm getting to that.
The other person I reconnected with also had some kind of connection with me, but it manifested in a different way: It seemed to me that something about her that didn't seem right. I don't mean that there was something wrong, but that something just didn't seem to the way is should be.
She's considerably younger than I am and pretty and nice enough, but I alway had that nagging sense. I could never put my finger on what was out of place. Today it clicked: she had the wrong face. Ah, so we've lived together before? No, we haven't. But that didn't make any sense, how could I know her if I've never known her? What gives? There was definitely a strong connection here but where could it have come from if we've never known each other? Things got more puzzling when I realized that she was connected to two other people who I had shared lives with. Just a friend of a friend? I don't know, maybe. But there seemed more to it than that.
It took me a while to draw the obvious conclusion, and once I saw it, I don't see how I could have missed it. All four of us were buddies in, what? the afterlife? A higher plane? Wherever is is that you want to call the place were we hang out before we are born and return to when we die, that's where all four of us hang between lives out and, apparently, have some long-standing partnership or working relationship.
I never occurred to me before to consider relationships on that level, relationships that span, perhaps, thousands of years? More? If that doesn't stretch your mind, I don't know what will. Now, I suppose, I'll be looking more deeply onto all the connections I sense in people I meet, for the universe is a lot richer than I'd realized. I have read about stuff like this, but it all just seemed, you know, kind of abstract, and it didn't really have anything to do with my life. On the other hand, I'm constantly asking to be shown more stuff and be given more understanding, so I really shouldn't be surprised at how odd things are getting. Now that I get this, I better brace myself, for something still odder is probably coming down the pike pretty soon.
And you know what? Bring it on! It seems reasonable that at some point I'll reach my limit, but, until then, Show me more, I dare you! I've never been more unsatisfied with this limited existence than I am now, even though I'm probably happier than I've ever been. I'm living a life that's pretty damm cool. It has it's ups and downs, and I don't know where I'm going, but I'm discovering mind-blowing stuff first hand, and that's as amazing as it gets.
The most significant down is dealing with the blindness and negativity that permeates my culture. But I'm beginning to think that it's not a pervasive as I've always believed. because I've lived my entire life inside the funhouse mirrors of denial, I don't really have any idea how far it actually goes. The reflections seem to go on forever, but I know they don't, so it's clearly time to find my way out of the funhouse and see what the world is really like.
Tonight I re-aquainted myself with some people I hadn't seen in a while, and I noticed some connections which were beyond my reach the last time I saw them. (My, how much rings have changed.) One, who I've know for, maybe, eight years, and have always had some affection for, was clearly my sister in a previous life. We were both sisters, and she was the youngest. Although she's older than me, this time around, and I've always thought her a bit, well, odd, I've always felt a noticeable affection and a bit of protectiveness towards her.
Ok, no big deal at this point. I've been seeing connections a lot lately, so what's one more? Well, one thing I forgot to mention when I wrote up my life as a shaman, was that my "father" in that life was also someone knew from before. He's not here, in this life, but we've worked together before and probably will again, just not this time. So, now I have connections from other lives to this life, and other lives to other lives, what else is there? I'm getting to that.
The other person I reconnected with also had some kind of connection with me, but it manifested in a different way: It seemed to me that something about her that didn't seem right. I don't mean that there was something wrong, but that something just didn't seem to the way is should be.
She's considerably younger than I am and pretty and nice enough, but I alway had that nagging sense. I could never put my finger on what was out of place. Today it clicked: she had the wrong face. Ah, so we've lived together before? No, we haven't. But that didn't make any sense, how could I know her if I've never known her? What gives? There was definitely a strong connection here but where could it have come from if we've never known each other? Things got more puzzling when I realized that she was connected to two other people who I had shared lives with. Just a friend of a friend? I don't know, maybe. But there seemed more to it than that.
It took me a while to draw the obvious conclusion, and once I saw it, I don't see how I could have missed it. All four of us were buddies in, what? the afterlife? A higher plane? Wherever is is that you want to call the place were we hang out before we are born and return to when we die, that's where all four of us hang between lives out and, apparently, have some long-standing partnership or working relationship.
I never occurred to me before to consider relationships on that level, relationships that span, perhaps, thousands of years? More? If that doesn't stretch your mind, I don't know what will. Now, I suppose, I'll be looking more deeply onto all the connections I sense in people I meet, for the universe is a lot richer than I'd realized. I have read about stuff like this, but it all just seemed, you know, kind of abstract, and it didn't really have anything to do with my life. On the other hand, I'm constantly asking to be shown more stuff and be given more understanding, so I really shouldn't be surprised at how odd things are getting. Now that I get this, I better brace myself, for something still odder is probably coming down the pike pretty soon.
And you know what? Bring it on! It seems reasonable that at some point I'll reach my limit, but, until then, Show me more, I dare you! I've never been more unsatisfied with this limited existence than I am now, even though I'm probably happier than I've ever been. I'm living a life that's pretty damm cool. It has it's ups and downs, and I don't know where I'm going, but I'm discovering mind-blowing stuff first hand, and that's as amazing as it gets.
The most significant down is dealing with the blindness and negativity that permeates my culture. But I'm beginning to think that it's not a pervasive as I've always believed. because I've lived my entire life inside the funhouse mirrors of denial, I don't really have any idea how far it actually goes. The reflections seem to go on forever, but I know they don't, so it's clearly time to find my way out of the funhouse and see what the world is really like.
Friday, December 5, 2014
UFOs are crazy!
I've now finished Mirage Men by Mark Pilkington, and I think I largely agree with the author: 99.9% of everything you hear about UFOs and invading aliens is misinformation, disinformation, confusion or plain fiction. Pinkington's idea that intelligence services around the world have found the whole UFO underground a way too convenient cover for anything they want to hide and dumping ground for anyone or anything they want to discredit, is way to plausible to discard.
The whole denial freight train got started during the cold war and continues to this day for several reasons, aside from what I said above, including embarrassment, bureaucratic inertia, and the problem that, if they did come clean, there would be the incidents that they either still can't explain, or don't want to, because the subjects are still secret. And there is another theory, the "inoculation," where all the TV shows and movies from X-Files through Superstition and Vampire Dairies, with all their evil and fear, are subtly encouraged so people get so used to the evil-alien-conspiracy idea that, when the truth actually comes out, it will seem plain-jane boring by comparison. Maybe. There are a lot of people that are genuinely terrified of aliens and UFOs, so perhaps that's a good idea?
Don't get me wrong, I think there is a truth buried under all the wacko, fear-mongering, alien-invasion, evil-genetic-reptile-hybrids-going-to-take-over-the-world stories, and it's substantially less interesting, and at the same time more profound, than what grabs all the attention at UFO conventions. It's my opinion that UFOs, spirits and psychic phenomenon are part and parcel of the same thing, and it will all come out when we're ready for it to come out. Each UFO camp doesn't want to give up their pet theories, so they ignore the subtle evidence and just focus on the big, juicy, exciting stuff. Who, really, wants to admit that they are just plain wrong and vast underground bases and evil invading reptiles really don't exist? I mean, what would you do with your Saturday afternoons?
I have no trouble accepting what I have seen and experienced and the readings that resonate with it. Once, I was afraid of the unknown, but now things like ghosts are interesting, but not particularly exciting. Pretty much everything that comes of the the UFO community is just plain silly, all designed to make you afraid. Because, I suppose, that's what sells. No one want's to see a lecture about sweetness and light, so that won't change anytime soon. There are some truly wonderful and exciting things going on, you just won't find anything about them at a UFO convention or website.
The whole denial freight train got started during the cold war and continues to this day for several reasons, aside from what I said above, including embarrassment, bureaucratic inertia, and the problem that, if they did come clean, there would be the incidents that they either still can't explain, or don't want to, because the subjects are still secret. And there is another theory, the "inoculation," where all the TV shows and movies from X-Files through Superstition and Vampire Dairies, with all their evil and fear, are subtly encouraged so people get so used to the evil-alien-conspiracy idea that, when the truth actually comes out, it will seem plain-jane boring by comparison. Maybe. There are a lot of people that are genuinely terrified of aliens and UFOs, so perhaps that's a good idea?
Don't get me wrong, I think there is a truth buried under all the wacko, fear-mongering, alien-invasion, evil-genetic-reptile-hybrids-going-to-take-over-the-world stories, and it's substantially less interesting, and at the same time more profound, than what grabs all the attention at UFO conventions. It's my opinion that UFOs, spirits and psychic phenomenon are part and parcel of the same thing, and it will all come out when we're ready for it to come out. Each UFO camp doesn't want to give up their pet theories, so they ignore the subtle evidence and just focus on the big, juicy, exciting stuff. Who, really, wants to admit that they are just plain wrong and vast underground bases and evil invading reptiles really don't exist? I mean, what would you do with your Saturday afternoons?
I have no trouble accepting what I have seen and experienced and the readings that resonate with it. Once, I was afraid of the unknown, but now things like ghosts are interesting, but not particularly exciting. Pretty much everything that comes of the the UFO community is just plain silly, all designed to make you afraid. Because, I suppose, that's what sells. No one want's to see a lecture about sweetness and light, so that won't change anytime soon. There are some truly wonderful and exciting things going on, you just won't find anything about them at a UFO convention or website.
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Autistic Shaman
This life memory was almost forced upon me. I had woken up in the middle of the night, then, after I went to the bathroom, let the cat out, noticed that it must be late, because the full moon was far into the west, I went back to bed. But I couldn’t sleep. I had no idea why I couldn’t sleep, I was just awake and that was that. I started thinking about an autistic person I sing with, and gradually, flashes of evergreens and bark-covered beehives crept into my awareness. Finally I gave up, rolled over and decided to find out what this was all about. I didn’t knowingly put myself into a trance of any kind, but it was the middle of the night, who knows?
My first impression was a bark-covered beehive in the trees. After some digging, a scene emerged. I was a native American, in bare feet, wearing the kind of shirt that left my arms and shoulders uncovered, and a kind of loincloth. I don’t think there was any decoration on either. I had long black hair, tied back. I was standing, quite still, in a redwood forest on a gently rolling, upland, landscape. Behind me was a view, down-slope and through the trees, of a sunny valley, some miles distant. I was standing outside of, and facing, a beehive-shaped hut covered with bark.
In the next scene, I was inside the hut. There was a small fire in the center, a small amount of belongings, tucked against the sides and my wife. There were also two children, a boy, about 2 years old, and baby in her mother’s arms. My wife was also pregnant. My wife had been chosen for me by the tribe.
I had no feelings for my wife or children, I saw them, quite literally, as blurs. The children were little more than transparent ghosts. My wife was more solid, but was still a blur, none the less. It’s like I physically could not see them. I didn’t love them or hate them. They were just part of my world and I took care of them because that’s what I did. I didn’t really think about it. In a way, I don’t think I “thought” about anything, I just “was,” living in the present.
There was only one person in this life that seemed solid. That was the old man. I have only one image of him, where I am looking up at him from the side, from below, like I am a small child. He is facing away from me, is wearing a shirt like mine that leaves his arms a shoulders bare, and lose pants, both with decorations and beadwork. He has a special band around his upper arm and another around his head, holding his hair. Although his hair is heavily streaked with gray, he is still tall and strong.
New scene. I am again outside in the forest, this time watching some kind of ceremony where people are dancing by a fire. The place was an area of flat ground at the base of some very large rocks, sticking out of the hillside. Again, I can’t see any people, all I perceive are shadows and silhouettes against the firelight. This is during the day.
I wasn’t really paying attention to the dance. Instead I was thinking about how cool it was to have the fire up against the rocks. That way the heat is reflected back and that is so much warmer, and, not only that, but the rocks retained the heat after the fire died down at night and would keep you warm as you sleep. Next I started thinking about having a fire in a cave, and I started to wonder why no one had ever seen cases of people living in caves who built low walls of rocks to block the wind and keep them warm at night.
I moved ahead again. Now the scene looked exactly the same, and I was standing in the same position, except that now I was older, much older. I was stooped with age and had grey hair. Now I was dressed just like the old man I had seen in my first vision. I realized that, now, I was the shaman, taking over from my “father” when he died. I was not his blood kin, but was taken in by him after being abandoned by my parents. They were from another group and had left me far out in the forest when they had realized that I was “different.” I was about four at that time. The shaman found me, took me in and trained me to be his replacement.
It seems that I had “talents.” Today I might be called “functional autistic,” but in those times I was a holy man. I had ideas. For instance, my hut had a roof that was somewhat pointed, not flat like the others, so the rain would run off better. I covered my hut with bark because I shed rain better, and wouldn’t catch fire from sparks, the way leaves and branches would. I think I also had a habit of standing or sitting on one place for long periods of time, without moving, lost in my own inner world.
My death was confusing. I had chest pains, some kind of heart condition, but that didn’t kill me. I’d been stabbed in the back with a stone-tipped spear, but that didn’t kill me. It seems that I’d fallen and broken my neck. That didn’t kill me either, but left me a quadriplegic. I was assigned a young girl to take care of me, but someone in that condition doesn’t last long in that day and age. I have no idea how long I lasted, time didn’t mean much to me in that life. One I died, I was told, in no uncertain terms, that I couldn’t see past the death.
My purpose in that life was to understand what it was like to live that life, be that kind of person, and to have compassion, not pity. To experience what it was like to be in the tribe, but on of it. In thinking about it, I am struck by some parallels between that live and this current life. I have, at times, found myself just “being,” aware of the people around me, but not giving them any acknowledgment or significance. Not thinking, just being.
My first impression was a bark-covered beehive in the trees. After some digging, a scene emerged. I was a native American, in bare feet, wearing the kind of shirt that left my arms and shoulders uncovered, and a kind of loincloth. I don’t think there was any decoration on either. I had long black hair, tied back. I was standing, quite still, in a redwood forest on a gently rolling, upland, landscape. Behind me was a view, down-slope and through the trees, of a sunny valley, some miles distant. I was standing outside of, and facing, a beehive-shaped hut covered with bark.
In the next scene, I was inside the hut. There was a small fire in the center, a small amount of belongings, tucked against the sides and my wife. There were also two children, a boy, about 2 years old, and baby in her mother’s arms. My wife was also pregnant. My wife had been chosen for me by the tribe.
I had no feelings for my wife or children, I saw them, quite literally, as blurs. The children were little more than transparent ghosts. My wife was more solid, but was still a blur, none the less. It’s like I physically could not see them. I didn’t love them or hate them. They were just part of my world and I took care of them because that’s what I did. I didn’t really think about it. In a way, I don’t think I “thought” about anything, I just “was,” living in the present.
There was only one person in this life that seemed solid. That was the old man. I have only one image of him, where I am looking up at him from the side, from below, like I am a small child. He is facing away from me, is wearing a shirt like mine that leaves his arms a shoulders bare, and lose pants, both with decorations and beadwork. He has a special band around his upper arm and another around his head, holding his hair. Although his hair is heavily streaked with gray, he is still tall and strong.
New scene. I am again outside in the forest, this time watching some kind of ceremony where people are dancing by a fire. The place was an area of flat ground at the base of some very large rocks, sticking out of the hillside. Again, I can’t see any people, all I perceive are shadows and silhouettes against the firelight. This is during the day.
I wasn’t really paying attention to the dance. Instead I was thinking about how cool it was to have the fire up against the rocks. That way the heat is reflected back and that is so much warmer, and, not only that, but the rocks retained the heat after the fire died down at night and would keep you warm as you sleep. Next I started thinking about having a fire in a cave, and I started to wonder why no one had ever seen cases of people living in caves who built low walls of rocks to block the wind and keep them warm at night.
I moved ahead again. Now the scene looked exactly the same, and I was standing in the same position, except that now I was older, much older. I was stooped with age and had grey hair. Now I was dressed just like the old man I had seen in my first vision. I realized that, now, I was the shaman, taking over from my “father” when he died. I was not his blood kin, but was taken in by him after being abandoned by my parents. They were from another group and had left me far out in the forest when they had realized that I was “different.” I was about four at that time. The shaman found me, took me in and trained me to be his replacement.
It seems that I had “talents.” Today I might be called “functional autistic,” but in those times I was a holy man. I had ideas. For instance, my hut had a roof that was somewhat pointed, not flat like the others, so the rain would run off better. I covered my hut with bark because I shed rain better, and wouldn’t catch fire from sparks, the way leaves and branches would. I think I also had a habit of standing or sitting on one place for long periods of time, without moving, lost in my own inner world.
My death was confusing. I had chest pains, some kind of heart condition, but that didn’t kill me. I’d been stabbed in the back with a stone-tipped spear, but that didn’t kill me. It seems that I’d fallen and broken my neck. That didn’t kill me either, but left me a quadriplegic. I was assigned a young girl to take care of me, but someone in that condition doesn’t last long in that day and age. I have no idea how long I lasted, time didn’t mean much to me in that life. One I died, I was told, in no uncertain terms, that I couldn’t see past the death.
My purpose in that life was to understand what it was like to live that life, be that kind of person, and to have compassion, not pity. To experience what it was like to be in the tribe, but on of it. In thinking about it, I am struck by some parallels between that live and this current life. I have, at times, found myself just “being,” aware of the people around me, but not giving them any acknowledgment or significance. Not thinking, just being.
Monday, December 1, 2014
Lifesavers don't all come in fruit flavors
Lots of thoughts today. I was just reading about a QHHT session where the client was a little girl who could speak to animals. Her job was to take are of animals. She eventually starved to death, but without pain or regret. Wow. This really gave the client what he was looking for, closure.
I love reading about sessions like these, they really resonate with me and get to think. Perhaps I have something like that in my past, or I have similar issues to resolve, but I like them like a great novel or movie, where you can lose yourself in the story and still live in it long after it ends, and I wish I could have had that experience.
That client came in to find closure. He was waiting to die and didn't want to leave any lose ends that would need to be tied up later. Perhaps it seems a little sad or morbid, but I have felt the same way for a few years now. It happened while I was working with a spiritual teacher that helped me resolve some issue that had something to do with my purpose and what mattered in life. At one point I realized that none of it really mattered and I could walk away from everything at anytime. Then I felt completely at piece and couldn't think of anything else to do with the rest of my life.
At this same time, the teacher told me that I had a "death's door" coming up. She had to explain what that was, I had never heard of it before: Death doors are points in your life where you have the choice to stay or exit. This isn't necessarily a conscious choice, but was built in when you designed your life. Once I understood the concept, I realized that I had read about them in stories of other people's past lives. (In one case, a boy drowned at sea in a small boat, because his higher self had looked forward and, deciding that what was coming up was both awful, and didn't contribute to the his soul's evolution, took the opportunity to end the life at that point.) Shortly after that, around a week or two, I was bicycling my way to work and was narrowly missed by a speeding car. I had just turned left off a main road onto a side street. Usually I turned to the center of the street and then cross to the side, (now that I think of it, that wasn't a very smart thing to do) but on that particular day I stayed against the center divider instead. That may have saved my life, as the car would have taken me out if I'd crossed the street.
I didn't make too much out of that, at the time, but I have continued on for years with the idea that I'm ready to go, whenever. I'm not saying I want to die, I just didn't see any particular reason to keep on dealing with the daily BS that life hands out.
So maybe getting laid off and discovering QHHT was literally a lifesaver. It gave me something to look forward to and a purpose: To help others both directly, by working with them, and indirectly, by sharing what I've learned. Stretching you mind and discovering who you really are only matters if you have a reason to do so. Learning only matters if you have something to apply it to and life only matters if you can make a difference.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)