Back to wonder

I’ve spent the last few nights at a friend’s place while his housemate is away. I’m sleeping in a guest room filled with his housemate’s books—five bookcases, thirty-three shelves, filled with titles I’d have once found thrilling. It’s one of the best personal collections I’ve ever seen of books on energy work, consciousness, archetypes, stages of growth and maturation, esoteric and channeled teachings, psychology, mythology, mystery schools, healing, and the human brain. But today it all feels to me like ballast. 

I’m a book person with a thirsty mind. I grew up in a house full of books and became a bookworm as soon as I learned to read. After all these years, a house without books still feels more like a hotel suite to me than a home. So it’s not the presence of books, per se, that’s bothering me. Plus, being among books such as these used to be heaven to me. What has shifted? Maybe it’s simply that the room is small, the bookcases are made of dark and heavy wood, and the books aren’t mine to browse. But I sense something else at work here.

I’ve always loved ideas, analysis, speculation—wondering about what we are, how we work, how we evolve, or don’t. Plus, I’m a writer and editor; word skills are a key professional credential in my world. This collection, however, feels like a 60-pound backpack on a day hike, or too many blankets on a soft spring night. The sheer weight of so many ideas meant to uplift us, so many confident assertions and instructions and results of research into the ways and whys of being—the weight of so much evidence of our relentless drive to know. Once, I’d have wanted to devour nearly every book here. Now all I want is a bottle of water, a sun hat, and good shoes for the day hike, and when it’s time to sleep, one or two good blankets, not a mountain of them.

We don’t know the way things are. We barely know the way we are. Yet in book after book after book, we claim so much knowledge. Why?

I don’t ask that idly. I’ve lived by why. I’ve long been driven by curiosity. I’ve a mountain of “spiritual” books waiting for me back home, all books I love or may yet come to love. But do I still need them to show me what’s essential now and what has always mattered? 

In meditation, when my mind quiets enough to allow Presence to greet, enter, and fill me, it’s not more analysis, more speculation, more explanations that I’m offered. It’s more Love. It’s that simple. Love. Love that inspires me—to move, to acknowledge, to create something, to share.

I appreciate the irony that one of our best ways to share and inspire Love is through books. I’ve written one and I suspect I’ll write more. But the Presence that meets me is wordless. It’s an intimate sense of the life in everything. Sometimes I call it “the hum.” And it doesn’t speak. 

A few years ago I noticed that I was learning more from noticing than from studying. Take photosynthesis, for example. The mind-boggling miracle of photosynthesis that’s occurring in the leaves of the tree next to where I sat this morning isn’t explained in any of my books. They do describe the photosynthetic process—the chemical cycles and patterns involved. Those, we understand. But the wonder of it? No. And noticing that it’s miraculous, noticing what is, seeing the beauty in the patterns and textures and movements and cycles of this astonishing planet, is teaching me more than books right now. Moments of clarity bring me knowings that bypass my earnest mental efforts to understand.

I will always love books. But compared to such moments of knowing, books are like the second-hand garments of experience. They are to life what an archeologist’s thoughtful description of a flint knife’s possible use and origin is to the actual glint of light and blood on the knife’s razor edges, the sound it makes skinning a felled deer, the smells of the mineral blood and the waiting fire. Good poetry and vivid prose can bridge that gulf—they conjure the essence of the living moments they reflect on. So I’m all for writing. But the accumulation of so much expositional information and speculation about being spiritual and human seems more deadening to me right now than enlivening. Presence keeps calling me—analytical, knowledge-seeking me—back to Itself. Back to direct experience. Back to noticing. Back to wonder. 

Photo of plants by Ren Ran; featured photo of books by Darwin Vegher, both on Unsplash.

When Shiva came calling

That day when Shiva came calling
and dragged me, eyes and mouth open
all the way out onto his dance floor.
I had been standing, timid and
off to one side, afraid of stumbling
and getting it wrong.
My heart thundered as I joined the great
ecstatic whirling.
Formless flowing into form
and back again into formless.
Everything spun out of the radiant
black center, the whirling emptiness.
Everything spun back into the Nothing
that rests, unmoving.
I see every particle of Self
caught up in the flung-out galaxies.
See that I am this.
Life itself.
Boundless and indestructible; at
Home in the dance.

Image by Stux, thanks to Pixabay.

How to “sense” a person, using your intuition

Let’s continue from where we left off. In last week’s post we focused on learning to connect with objects. Here’s how to “sense” people. It’s a simple and very effective way to hone your intuition.

As a person you don’t know passes by you, visualize yourself focusing on their heart area and then, with your mind blank, just ask: “How do they feel?” Happy, sad, confident, angry, hopeful? The first answer that comes to mind is the correct one. Don’t think about the person; your mind will lead you astray. Practice this as often as you can over the years—hundreds and thousands of people—and eventually you’ll know just by looking at them.

You can practice this on people you know, and people you don’t. You can do this for people who are not physically present with you, too. Just see their face in your mind’s eye and “feel into” how they are doing. In time, you will pick up a lot of information about a person in this way. I do this all the time with my wife and son when we are not together. It helps me to get a sense of how their day is going.

In doing this you are not judging the person, nor are you looking at them intellectually. You are sensing them with your intuition. You are observing them with the eyes and heart of your Soul. If you don’t judge, analyze, or measure a person with your mind’s limiting belief systems, a higher sense of awareness and discernment comes forward. You see the God within them because you are seeing them from the God-ness within you. You see them for who they are, not as your projection of them.

Be present in your own presence and then you can be present for others.

Play with these techniques for a while and see what happens. The more you practice, the clearer your intuition will become.

To see a World in a grain of Sand,
and a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
and Eternity in an hour.

William Blake

…To be continued next week. This is part three of a seven-part series on intuition.

My Cosmic Friends and Frenemies

Entering the world of higher dimensions can often be like starring in a Sci-Fi movie. You feel, hear, and see things that no one else does, and you meet and interact with various members of our Galactic Family. From my experience, I’d say these experiences present themselves when we are ready, when we’ve raised vibration and awareness enough to not freak out, and when we’re actually able to use discernment and act accordingly. In other words, when there’s no need to panic.  

The first time I was visited and made friends with a Cosmic Being was very unexpected and it was no one less than the Goddess Kali. I was sitting deep in meditation when I suddenly saw a strange looking female with a black face and red tongue sticking out. Her face emerged from inside of me, came up and out and stared right in my face. I was instantly taken aback and opened my eyes. “What the hell just happened?” I thought to myself. In all honesty, I knew nothing about Goddess Kali. I knew of the name but I had no idea what she looked like and what kind of energy she represented. Needless to say, I had no idea she’d lived inside me all along!

After that I started becoming more and more aware of the presence of the Beings, mainly Light Beings. I felt they were around me most of the time, usually 3 of them: a male, a female, and a no gender Being, acting as guardians and guides. I felt they were really tall, I could only see them down to their shoulders, literally bodies of Light. Being aware of their constant presence, I never felt alone ― in a good way. 

My second-most important encounter was not so pleasant. It was with the low vibrational Beings most commonly known as Reptilians. It was on the day I found myself in a situation in which I witnessed a conflict and an expression of anger by an individual. It wasn’t even directed at me, I just happened to be there as a witness. It was also when I had my mum staying with me for a week. My mum is, in general, a loving person with a big heart. However, due to a life-long conditioning and a lot of inherited collective karma, she functions from a place of fear and is constantly on high alert about the smallest things. 

So on that particular day, after I witnessed the anger-charged situation while having my mum around for a few days, I was feeling drained by everything that was going on around me. I was also still going through my own purging and clearing some old emotional stuff. I was driving along an empty road when, out of nowhere, I had a vision of Reptilian Beings surrounding me in a circle and crawling toward me. Let me point out that this is all happening in the Astral realm; I saw all this with my Third Eye, not in a physical form. I didn’t feel scared, I was fully aware that in 3D reality, I was driving in my car, there was no one around me on a physical level, and I was perfectly safe. 

As soon as that realisation came through, so did inner knowing of what to do ― to call upon my Light Beings and draw more Light from the Source into my energy field. It took quite few moments to be able to do this effectively, partly because I was already feeling drained, and partly because it was happening for a first time. As soon as I drew enough Light and expanded my Light Body, the Reptilians began to move away from me, farther and farther, until I couldn’t see them anymore.

When I was later reflecting on this experience, I realised that these low-vibrational Beings are here to remind us that we have a choice in every moment. We have a choice to stay in the Light or to give in to the Dark. We can choose our thoughts, words, situations we put ourselves in, people we surround ourselves with, and our choices determine our reality not just on a physical level but in all other dimensions as well, even if we aren’t fully aware of that yet. The universe is vast and we’re surrounded by the Unseen as much as the Seen. 

I have since fought quite a few battles with Reptilians and pushed them out of certain places and situations. Tom Kenyon refers to them as Feeders, and that is what they are; they feed on low-vibrational energy emitted through emotions like fear, anger, resentment, jealousy, etc. They cannot survive where Light is. And that is the lesson they bring. As with every other unpleasant experience, Reptilians also show up so we can learn a lesson and move on. Like everything else in life, they ultimately serve our highest good. 

I’ve met many Cosmic friends over time, all very friendly and loving, some simply showing their presence with a loving smile, and some actually assisting with my healing. I’ve witnessed my astral body being worked on and Light Codes being infused. I’ve seen myself directly receive beautiful healing energy from powerful Spirits like Yeshua and Mary Magdalene. 

As we open ourselves to the Cosmic Energy and the Multiverse, we open ourselves to all that comes with it. Spiritual Awakening is awakening to what we are: multidimensional beings. As much as it sounds like a Sci-Fi movie, it is absolutely possible to experience two places ― dimensions at the same time. However, which energy you choose to dwell in will determine what those places are, and who’ll you meet along the way. As you expand your consciousness, you expand your existence through many dimensions. 


How to further develop your intuition

For primitive people the presence of energy is the starting point of their analysis and understanding of the natural world. Primitive people felt energy, but did not measure it. Today we measure energy, but are not able to feel it.

Vine Deloria, PhD

Sometimes the more measurable drives out the most important.

Rene Debois, PhD

My post last week was the first of a series of seven posts on developing intuition. Let’s continue.

To improve your intuition, you must exercise it. Here are a few more exercises:

How to sense the energy and essence of an object

Find a stone or crystal and notice everything there is to be noticed about it—its size, shape, smell, indentations, coloring, weight, etc. Next imagine yourself inside it and then become it; listen for the silence within it. What is it saying? What does it feel like to be inside of it? What wisdom has it to impart to you? What kind of personality does it have? Why has it come to you now?

Don’t think as you do this, just feel. Stay with it for a few minutes so that you can fully connect with its essence. Keep your mind still and your heart open, and listen.

Next focus your attention on a flower and do the same as you did above. You can actually do this with any object.

Lastly, follow these same steps with an object that belongs to someone—an object they care about. Connect first with the object itself. Next, see what the object has to say about the person who owns it.

Have fun and just practice getting a “feel” for things. Stop relying always on thinking instead of feeling. You’ll be amazed at what you learn about the object you have put your attention on when you “feel” instead of “think” about it. You’ll be pleasantly surprised by what you learn about yourself in the process, too.

There is a voice that does not use words—Listen!

…To be continued next week in part three of this seven-part series on intuition.

I belong to life

I have always semi-joked that I am on assignment with the universe, knowing that while I have free will to create, I also came to be of service to life. Ultimately, this affords me freedom to be moved by the hand of a larger knowing. However, first I had to fully claim my aligned freedom, without concern for who gave me permission to know what I know.

I am a cultural hybrid, unsure of how I arrived at my blended view of the world, other than to say it was in my wiring at birth. A strong element of my essential orientation to life could be called indigenous, although I have never sought that knowledge or integrated ritual practices of a particular nation of people.

In a recent conversation with a Native American elder, my sharing of my authentic being was seen as co-opting what didn’t belong to me. I just let that rest in me without needing a defense, in that I stayed present to the cultural wound being voiced, and had insight into the wounds of my own heart—a heart that has longed for the company of other multidimensional beings who know themselves only as life and aren’t trying to copy anyone or to belong blindly for the sake of inclusion.

I love this quote from Albert Einstein:

“Although I am a typical loner in my daily life, my awareness of belonging to the invisible community of those who strive for truth, beauty, and justice has prevented me from feelings of isolation.”

I’m wondering how many of us truly belong to life, which is far too broad to be labeled and fixed in one position? My sense is there are more than might be expected, but family and cultural conditionings have asked us to get small for the sense of safety.

I’m reclaiming my magical life fully, and would love to know who else out there wants to play?

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Who do I think I am?

Do you ever ask yourself, “Who am I?” I have been curious about who or what I might be from as early as I can remember. Brought on, in part, by this feeling that I wasn’t quite real. I never verbalized that and I’m not sure I could have, but somehow, looking in at myself felt like looking in on my dreams. There were shapes and forms and some semaphore-like story line, dotted and dashed to the point that it was impossible to decode.

I’m not sure that it’s possible to live your life without forming some structured sense of self. So, I did what humans do: I took on an identity. More accurately, I learned to present an identity that was part authentic expression, part other people’s opinions and beliefs, and part reflection of the cultural soup in which I grew up. The author Kurt Vonnegut says, “We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be.” This is the aspect of identity that fascinates me, what is pretense and the habit of pretense and what is true, truer, Truest.

In my childhood and into early adulthood I studied people and situations, trying to understand what threat or promise they held and who I would have to appear to be in order to avoid the one and capitalize on the other. It’s a terrible way to live. I couldn’t have people from separate parts of my life in the same room at the same time for fear they would see what a fake I was. By the age of thirty I wondered if I was insane.

The next four years became a dark passage where I felt increasingly unreal. I was either acting a part or drinking myself unconscious. I could not stand being alone with my thoughts and wondered if death was the only way out.

It might sound strange, but I’m grateful for that descent into darkness and grateful that I reached the place where going on like that was no longer possible.

In 1983, a few months before my 35th birthday, my ability to carry on ended. The thing about a healing crisis is that the one in crisis doesn’t know or see the healing aspect. All you have is the experience of that crisis, however it plays out for you. In my case, there was a little death—and the discovery that death can be a blessing. The path I had been following came to a cliff edge; beyond the edge was a complete unknown. I was scared because I couldn’t see what was ahead, but then I had been scared for a long time.

The wonderful thing about intense fear is that it does not leave you with the option of doing nothing. Fear forced me to do the thing I least wanted to do—ask for help. And help appeared, as the fairy tales tell us. Help came from my father and his simple matter-of-fact acceptance of the mess I was in. Help came from new friends and one or two old friends who were willing to see me change. Help came from books, books, and more books and from workshops and retreats.

I stepped off a well-worn path that was going nowhere good and onto the path that I am still exploring. A path that is revealed and created with each step.

At first, I worked very hard to know where I was going. Slowly I learned to trust the journey (mostly) and my curiosity returned. I love the expression, “Follow your nose.” My nose led me back to the essential question, “Who or what am I?”

Questioning like this has driven me a little crazy at times. I struggled, and it took an embarrassingly long time to realize that I was looking for an actual, intellectual answer, and that no such answer is possible. I had to learn that the intellect and reason can only help me to see what I am not, and that the answer to Who or What am I appears as an intuitive knowing that cannot be Thought.

More and more, I am the inquiry. If there is an answer it seems to be—Awakening. Whatever I truly am is this unfolding mystery.

Photo by Alex Iby on Unsplash