Blank Canvas

[another bob]

Another Bob,

At that time in my life, it really felt like my world was ending. I do believe that now....I know better.

Happy to hear that you have moved past that, Sister!

One thing we find out as we evolve, and that's that there is always a new beginning that follows every ending, and this is true even up to and including death itself.

Thanks again for your courage!

Blessings!

[Jenci]

Instead of just driving off I drove right into the middle of his van crumpling the doors and smashing the front of my car. Then, I backed up and drove off into the sunset. I am not normally a violent person but obviously, I can be. I was twenty years old at the time of this incident and I would like to think that with age and wisdom comes more self-control. I hope this theory is never tested.

Perhaps this is what was exactly necessary for you to do to completely close the door on the relationship. If you hadn't of smashed him and his van, who knows, when the anger had subsided you may have considered going back there.

Many people do go back after this type of betrayal (like me) only to find it happens all over again.

Thanks for the story.

Jeanette

[Arrowwind]

Pure Karma and amazing drama. I really liked the gravity part! I can see a Ben Stiller, Cameron Diaz movie here!:lol:

[sleepy]

Instead of just driving off I drove right into the middle of his van crumpling the doors and smashing the front of my car. Then, I backed up and drove off into the sunset. I am not normally a violent person but obviously, I can be. I was twenty years old at the time of this incident and I would like to think that with age and wisdom comes more self-control. I hope this theory is never tested.

Perhaps this is what was exactly necessary for you to do to completely close the door on the relationship. If you hadn't of smashed him and his van, who knows, when the anger had subsided you may have considered going back there.

Many people do go back after this type of betrayal (like me) only to find it happens all over again.

Thanks for the story.

Jeanette

Jenci,

That could very well be true. Everything happened, as it needed to happen. I always said that I never got tired of leaving my husband but one day I got tired of going back to him. The truth is, that event sealed the deal. I had to return to the apartment to get my birth certificate and some other paperwork that I had forgotten and I took a policeman with me. I was scared of I what I was capable of doing and also of what he might do to me.

[NancyV]

Instead of just driving off I drove right into the middle of his van crumpling the doors and smashing the front of my car. Then, I backed up and drove off into the sunset. I am not normally a violent person but obviously, I can be. I was twenty years old at the time of this incident and I would like to think that with age and wisdom comes more self-control. I hope this theory is never tested.

Perhaps this is what was exactly necessary for you to do to completely close the door on the relationship. If you hadn't of smashed him and his van, who knows, when the anger had subsided you may have considered going back there.

Many people do go back after this type of betrayal (like me) only to find it happens all over again.

Thanks for the story.

Jeanette
It really does usually happen all over again! LOL... It took me many years to learn that you probably won't be changing a husband or lover to conform to what you want them to be, and if they have violent tendencies it will be difficult for them to quit that behavior. Even when I learned that lesson I still had a hard time totally disengaging from a husband or lover, especially when they always begged for forgiveness and for me to come back. I've only had one physically violent boyfriend and he ended up breaking my jaw. He got so pissed for breaking my jaw he then slammed the phone onto his hand and ended up breaking two of his fingers! LOL... I have a photo of us with me smiling with my jaw wired shut and him holding up his two bandaged/broken fingers. After leaving him at least 7 times I finally had to completely stop talking to him so I wouldn't be talked into giving him just "one more chance".

I look back on having my jaw wired shut and think what a perfect message that was. I was a rather verbal type person and I think the message was "just shut the F*CK up for a while and do some listening and thinking!" I actually enjoyed having my mouth wired shut for 6 weeks and I have to admit it was rather funny. LOL

My first husband, whom I married when I was 18 and he was 24, stayed a friend long after we separated and we occasionally lived together just as friends. His main challenge was that he couldn't stay away from other women, so I decided that was not acceptable to me after actually trying to deal with it...and we became just friends. I also supported him for a couple of years since I had more money at that time. He asked me to try again as husband and wife at least 5 times and the last time was a couple of years after we had more or less separated. Even then I felt badly saying no!

My 2nd husband and I were best man and lady for my first husband's marriage to his 3rd wife. I had been his 2nd wife. It was the 2nd marriage for both my 2nd husband and for me and I left him after 16 years. Then when I left my 3rd husband, to whom I was married for only a year, my 2nd husband fully expected that I would return to him. I was greatly tempted because he was a fantastic father to our 2 children and a wonderfully nice man, but I really didn't want to live with someone the rest of my life who had always been more like a brother. We are still friends to this day and he calls me every once in a while.

About 6 months after I divorced my 3rd husband who was a wealthy Jewish stockbroker, he started begging me to marry him again and said he would change. I was starting to consider it seriously as he really needed me (or someone). His health was pretty bad at that time from a stroke and he did not recover well from it. I finally told him I might remarry him, although one of my best friends who had been his 2nd wife, told me that it would be a horrible mistake. She had lasted with him for 7 years although she knew after 1 year that he was a master manipulator who used his money to buy people. It was pretty sickening to watch after I married him. I did not know from the previous 3 years of being casual friends with him that one of his major games was to get people in debt to him so he could manipulate them.

Well, I made the decision that I probably should go back to take care of him and we had a date one night where I was going to tell him that I was willing to give it a try again. So I drove up to his house high on a hill overlooking the Rogue Valley in Ashland, Oregon. It was a beautiful place and he had built me an Olympic sized swimming pool. I was somewhat of a swimming fanatic from when I swam competitively in my youth. When I went into the house I couldn't find him on the main floor so I went downstairs into the huge room which was a full on gym with a sauna and all kinds of equipment. He loved to exercise and I figured he was working out. He wasn't there or in the Sauna. I started feeling a strong foreboding and knew that something was wrong. As I walked outside to the pool I pretty much knew what I would find...and there he was, floating face down in the pool. I jumped in and immediately tried some mouth to mouth, but then I looked at his face. He had turned sort of purple and I knew he was gone.

I couldn't pull him out of the pool after trying several times, so I stayed in for a while and I was cussing him and god...and crying. Then after a while of just talking to him and telling him that it was all okay now... I pulled myself together and went into the house, took my wet clothes off and put them in the dryer since I had no other clothes there. I put my emotions completely on hold so I could do what needed to be done, starting with calling the police after putting my semi dry clothes back on. Then I got together phone numbers for his children. The police and an ambulance arrived and I was still emotionless while telling them what had happened. Then I called everyone I needed to call, went home and took that night to totally fall apart. The next day I was fine, but with a HUGE hangover since I drank myself into oblivion... and regained my perspective. I knew he was better off now and probably having fun wherever he had gone.

The only small challenge I had after his death was that his children told the police that I had probably killed him for his money! LOL... That, of course, was ludicrous as I hadn't yet remarried him and took almost nothing when I divorced him. In fact I made HIM sign a prenuptial agreement since I didn't want his adult children to feel threatened by the thought of me trying to take their rightful inheritance. He didn't want to sign it and said to hell with his kids, but I didn't want their hostile energy being sent to me, so he gave in and signed it. I had to be interviewed by the police but after I explained the reality that I had no motive and was actually planning to remarry him, they realized right away that killing him would totally defeat an actual gold digger motive.

Then a bit less than a year later I met my soul mate, my present husband of 17 years! I do still love and appreciate my previous husbands and lovers, but having a twin flame/soul mate is beyond any normal love. I have so much enjoyed life and feel like I've done and learned most of what I planned for this lifetime. I could be wrong! LOL... So I'll stick around until my date with death arrives. I'm looking forward to THAT date! Then the fun increases and continues elsewhere!

First husband on left, second on Right and 4th below!

[Arrowwind]

:poops.....

[another bob]

I have so much enjoyed life and feel like I've done and learned most of what I planned for this lifetime. I could be wrong! LOL... So I'll stick around until my date with death arrives.

Sister, I've got a feeling life has a lot more in store for you. In any case, you are going to have an abundance of cool stories to share with the soul group over yonder, and I bet you'll have them in stitches to boot!

You've gone right out and grabbed the gusto with both hands, and good for you! To completely and unreservedly throw oneself into the objective world is what the soul really wants to do here, but many get cold feet when they find that the illusion can bite back. LOL!

Blessings!

[sleepy]

I have so much enjoyed life and feel like I've done and learned most of what I planned for this lifetime. I could be wrong! LOL... So I'll stick around until my date with death arrives.

You sure have!:cool:
Wow!
Thanks for the story!

[Arrowwind]

Meeting David Monongye Heart to Heart

I met Grandfather David Monongye, a Hopi Elder, aged 115 at the time, in Santa Fe. Grandfather was a Kikmongwi of Hotevilla, a traditional leader, selected to reveal Hopi prophecy to the world after the nuclear war holocaust in Japan during World War II. His intent was to educate all peoples about the prophecy and the issues revolving around the end of the fourth world and the beginning of the fifth. He was speaking about the earth changes to come and the predicted fall of our current culture. Like a wisp of wind his stature was slight, worn by his years and with his vision long gone he had to be guided on and off the stage by a family member.

After the lecture, in the large front foyer of the conference hall, I saw him standing in the corner with some of his family. He was not facing me. He suddenly turned around and looked at me directly. I was way on the other side of the room standing alone, curious but maintaining respect by my distance.

He beamed at me with a smile broad and wide. Suddenly, I, almost like in a trance, started to walk towards him. He held his arms out to receive me as I reached mid room. When I got to him I could clearly see that his eyes were not focused on mine, and they appeared like those of any blind person, yet somehow looking at me. When I finally got close enough he reached out with his hands searching for mine in the air and then latched on to them and shook vigorously. His smile seemed to widen even more. No words were said yet it was a very amazing experience. It was like we were bathed in light and understanding. Like two souls recognizing each other, unrestrained by social convention or material interests. After a few moments we parted and he turned around and started interacting again with the people he was with and I walked away feeling as if I had been touched by the great spirit.

Priest of the Hopi with His Great Grandchild.
http://ccp.uair.arizona.edu/system/files/imagecache/small/palfi/CCP_83110024.jpg (http://ccp.uair.arizona.edu/system/files/imagecache/large_watermark/palfi/CCP_83110024.jpg)











For a video film clip of Grandfather David in 1971 visit:
https://diva.sfsu.edu/collections/sfbatv/bundles/187815

[Fred Steeves]

Funny I was encouraged to share the old "skydiving story", as just last week I was going down memory lane a bit, and thinking about my first skydive instructor from back in the day, trying to find some further information about him on the net that I may not have known before. His name was Santos Matos, and to this day, he is one of the most impressive people I've ever met. 20 year plus veteran of Army Special Forces, Rangers, Vietnam vet, Granada, on and on and on. All his buddies were Marine Recon, Golden Knights type guys, so it was quite something to hang out with them on week-ends. I'll tell you the rest about Santos at the end, but first the story.

This is in 1991, and me and my good buddy at the time Dave had quite unexpectadly gotten into skydiving. The mere thought had always terrified me. With some people however, if you do it once, you're hooked. They're known as adrenaline junkies, and that was most certainly us. At $100 per student jump with Santos, we saved our money to head out there about once a month. In the program, AFF(Accelerated Free Fall) Level 7 is the final jump a student performs jumping with the jump master. Pass the required maneuvers in free fall, and you're on your own. You also save a lot of money after that, only $15 dollars per jump from 13,500 feet. It's a big big deal, graduation day.

The big day came, graduation day. Dave and I were all kinds of jacked up on the hour drive to the drop zone. Dave did his first, and after he landed, I could tell just by the way he was walking and beaming he had passed. High fives and all. He was now an official skydiver. So then it was my turn.

The exit was normal, Santos and I were close together like normal, and I now had 60 seconds to perform moving forward, backward, right turn, left turn, then ending with a flip. Well something happened, I'll never know what for sure, but I started a turn, and then kept on turning, and turning, and turning, faster and faster and faster. Before I knew what was happening, I was totally out of control, still spinning faster and faster, and the centrifugal force was getting such that my arms and legs were splayed out like I was being drawn and quartered.

It's incredible how quickly things can go terribly wrong in this sport, and my bright and sunny summer day of celebration, had just instantly turned into my worst nightmare. That was when I gave up, watching the Earth spinning ever bigger in my sight, and knowing I was going to bounce in about 30 seconds or so. That was when "the calm" came in, that almost humorous conversation I had with myself. "So this is it Fred, this is how it ends, who would have ever thunk it...It's o.k. though, leave it you to go out like this. Just hopefully it's not too messy(LOL)"

And that was when a different voice entered, and said: "Why don't you just pull the rip cord while you're still spinning dumbass!" "Oh" I thought. (Duh) It wasn't at all easy though. It took every bit of strength I had to overcome the centrifugal force of the violent spin, and to get my right arm in enough to finally pull. Pull I did though, and next thing you know all was quiet, and all was well, save for line twists going almost all the way up to the canopy, which gave me quite the opposite spin unwinding the other way. But wow, I was alive. Amazing!

Needless to say my young man's ego was crushed, and I felt thoroughly humiliated upon landing and gathering up the chute, as my buddy Dave came running over, arm raised for the big high five, saying: "Well, did you pass?"

I did eventually pass, and have some fantastic adventures, but that wouldn't be for another 3-4 years, when I was in the Navy. Of course I also had to start the student program all over from scratch by that point.

Back to Santos. Not too long after this incident, I was heading out one morning to try a jump with him again. There was no one in the world more competent, and safer to jump with, than Santos Matos, with all his experience, combined with over 8,500 jumps. Storm clouds were all over however, and I turned back half way, thinking oh well, next weekend then. Well, there wouldn't be a next weekend. Santos was killed that morning, along with his first time tandem student. Nothing at all ever opened, and they impacted the ground together at roughly 200 mph. It was messy...

This is a link with a good picture of Santos, and a brief bio.
http://www.para-commandos.com/MatosS.htm

Here's a couple pictures of me at the time, both of course in the same rig I wore that day.

Cheers,
Fred

18541 18542

[RunningDeer]

"Why don't you just pull the rip cord while you're still spinning dumbass!" "Oh" I thought. (Duh) It wasn't at all easy though. It took every bit of strength I had to overcome the centrifugal force of the violent spin, and to get my right arm in enough to finally pull. Pull I did though, and next thing you know all was quiet, and all was well, save for line twists going almost all the way up to the canopy, which gave me quite the opposite spin unwinding the other way. But wow, I was alive. Amazing!

Needless to say my young man's ego was crushed, and I felt thoroughly humiliated upon landing and gathering up the chute, as my buddy Dave came running over, arm raised for the big high five, saying: "Well, did you pass?"

I’d say RIP Santos and Student, but that was in Nov. 1991. RIP Student, and welcome back SGM Matos. IMO - Lots of Warriors hiding in plain sight, with inner knowing of timely expectation and patience.

"Sergeant Major Santos Alfredo Matos, Jr. Special Operations Command Parachute Team's 1st Non-Commissioned Officer in Charge (NCOIC). SGM Matos was inducted into the United States Army Ranger Hall of Fame."

Great story Fred. You remind me of Santos.

[Arrowwind]

Great story Fred. You remind me of Santos.

Except Fred is still with us and Santos aint. That says something I think.

[RunningDeer]

Great story Fred. You remind me of Santos.

Except Fred is still with us and Santos aint. That says something I think.


My post was a compliment to Fred, and also one to Santos. And to the Warriors they are. (present tense intended)

It would not surprise me that there's a teenager old out there well protected without the label of "Sergeant Major Santos Alfredo Matos, Jr. Special Operations Command Parachute Team's 1st Non-Commissioned Officer in Charge (NCOIC). SGM Matos was inducted into the United States Army Ranger Hall of Fame.".

It is my belief that it's no accident there are more old souls here than not with the art of invisibility as one of their tools. They assist with grounding and readiness of awakening for any one open to discover whom they are and are not.

[Arrowwind]

Mary's Batteries

I will call her Mary for lack of recall of her true name as it has been over two years now since I cared for her. Mary was dying of cancer. I don’t remember what kind or where for these are not the things I tend to recall when I witness a remarkable person. These details pale when witnessing a soul in progress.

Mary was at least in her 80’s and she was still quite beautiful, although the disease had wasted her body down and there wasn’t much left. In these last days there was little pain and really very little we could do for her except to keep the ice cold water coming her way and repositioning her frail skeleton every two hours.

Mary had a devoted family but by this time most of them were weary of her long death walk. There had been treatments and failures, decisions and letting go. Now Mary was fully ready to die but the long awaited event just refused to happen and if you met her grandsons you would know why.

She had the absolutely most gorgeous grandsons, blonde and blue eyed, handsome they were, in their early 20’s. Everyday they would come to be with her and each would take a hand sitting to her right and left side. With them at her side her days were filled with comfort and joy and there seemed to be little reason to leave this earthy endeavor. Mostly, when you went in to see her she would be smiling or dosing on one or the other’s shoulder. When Mary grew too weak to sit up they increased their visit time. At night the reclining Geri chairs would be taken into the room and one grandson on each side would sleep holding her hands. It was almost like you could see the channel of life energy charging through, a human circuit made from human batteries plugged in on each side of her!

This ritual seemed to go on forever as Mary lingered week after week. She had not eaten anything for a very long time, just taking ice water which she requested frequently.

One day one of the grandsons came to me and asked why she was taking so long to pass. He thought that surely with the cancer and the lack of food she would have been gone long ago. How long could one endure under such conditions, he wanted to know?

“I can clearly see that you love her and that she loves the both of you very much. You give her great joy and a reason to be here” I told him. “Every day the both of you are here and you hold her hands. It’s just my opinion. I don’t really know anything. But I think that you may be holding her to the earth plane.” He did not respond. He became deeply pensive, thanked me for my opinion and returned to her room.

Neither of the grandsons spent that night with Mary and they decreased their visit time in the day. Her room seemed so empty without them. Mary’s spirit, I could see, folded further inward. She seemed to grow so much smaller in her bed, as if she weren’t small enough already, she seemed to almost vanish under the bedcovers. She could still bring forth a little smile and pat your hand and you could see that she was OK. In just a very short time, less than two days, she was gone.

[Arrowwind]

Great story Fred. You remind me of Santos.

Except Fred is still with us and Santos aint. That says something I think.


My post was a compliment to Fred, and also one to Santos. And to the Warriors they are. (present tense intended)

It would not surprise me that there's a teenager old out there well protected without the label of "United States Army Ranger Hall of Fame." It is my belief that it's no accident there are more old souls here than not with the art of invisibility as one of their tools. They assist with grounding and readiness of awakening for any one open to discover whom they are and are not.

and my words were not to discredit in any way... only to ponder upon.

[another bob]

That was when I gave up, watching the Earth spinning ever bigger in my sight, and knowing I was going to bounce in about 30 seconds or so. That was when "the calm" came in, that almost humorous conversation I had with myself. "So this is it Fred, this is how it ends, who would have ever thunk it...It's o.k. though, leave it you to go out like this. Just hopefully it's not too messy(LOL)"

Thanks, Fred, great tale! Yes, that "calm" is a classic reaction we hear about in these near-death type experiences, and I know it well. It's like the Higher Self takes over the reins, and the human fear emotions are superseded by a deeper, vaster "knowing".

Here's one in a similar vein:


Summertime in California, early 1960s . . . If you lived down by the Pacific Ocean, you may not have known how to surf, but you certainly couldn’t help but be lured out to the beach on warm summer days. Once there, you could see thrilling visions of surf riders daring the onrushing tides, or tossed/washed off their gleaming boards in hungry curls of carnivorous snarl. In either case, the contagious excitement of taking it to the limit was just the kind of adolescent allurement that laced through many of the Top 40 tunes of the day. I was certainly not immune to the siren songs that promised fun and glory in the blue-green waves. “Everybody’s gone surfin’ . . . . surfin’ USA!”

I grew up in the Richmond District in San Francisco, adjacent to the emerald majesty of Golden Gate Park, about eight blocks up Fulton from Ocean Beach. Stretching south below the post-card Cliff House and the old Sutro Baths (incarnating as a swell skating rink at the time, now in ruins), there’s a spit of sand known as Kelley’s Cove. A short bus ride, and I was there.

First stop was at Playland concession (the deteriorating amusement park across the street from the beach) for some tasty french fries to complement the salty ocean air. From there, I shepherded my two younger brothers and sister over to the shore, down the steps of the concrete sea wall, and out to “our spot” near the pier (also now washed away). Here we sat and conducted cultural-anthropological musings about the various tribal gatherings and cliques – the “surfers” and the “greasers” – but mostly just watched in awe as the wet suited warriors rode the waves.

When it got hot enough, we’d swim out a bit, and practice “body surfing”, unconcerned with the posted warning signs about dangerous undertows in the area. The internal chemical rush from catching the right wavelet only whetted my appetite for the real thing.

I eventually acquired my own training board, as well as an ill-fitting rubbery wet suit top. I ignored the odd glances from the other passengers when I boarded the bus on the way to the beach. I had just turned 13 in June, and it was my last summer vacation before I was to enter a Catholic Seminary in the Fall, and renounce my earthly life in service to my fantasy of the saintly path.

With Beach Boy lyrics romping in my ears, I fearlessly paddled out to the big waves, and hunched up from my prone position to a sitting one, dangling my shark-bait legs in the water and feeling like I had finally arrived.

After studying the methods of the various older guys – how they chose their own individual waves, got a good start, and then climbed their boards to marry with the roll and surge of surf — I pumped up my courage and away I went!

Within seconds, I found myself buried in the wave I had challenged, minus my board, coughing salty water and being swept swiftly, helplessly — not towards the shore — but out towards Hawaii.

After the turbulence had subsided and I had regained the surface, I began a desperate, futile effort to swim against the tide, and it was now quickly dawning on me why the warning signs about the undertow were placed near this beach. I had heard stories, but of course such things only happened to other people. At 13, I was invincible –summer had just started, for chrissake! I had my whole life ahead of me!

Then panic gripped me, and I started to scream for help, but I was too far out by now to be heard, and as I tried to see the shore, I found, to my even greater panic, that the shore was no longer visible. The more I struggled, the wearier I became, and I began to realize that I could die! Yes! I could actually die out here, and, in fact, I probably would!

Then I remembered the previous summer, when I fell off my rubber tire while “tubing” a river in the Sierras. After being tossed wildly in the froth, I had grabbed onto a rock in the middle of the rapids, clinging to it for dear life. Eventually, my arms had grown too tired to hold it any longer in the force of the oncoming river. Finally I just surrendered, and soon was washed into the still pool at the foot of the white water, breathing such a sigh of relief!

There was a lesson there, and it now raced back to me. I once again had found myself in a powerless condition, and so I stretched into a floating position on my back, exhaled, and gave up the struggle. I let everything go.

It all seemed so peaceful now, and timeless. I rested in the unknown of it all. Above me, the blue sky was beginning to blaze into the light of a glorious sunset, and I had become numb to the chilly embrace of the ocean on my skin. Gradually, an older, deeper remembrance began to flood my consciousness, obliterating any lingering traces of fear, or any concern at all.

I recall nothing after that, except a kind of dreamless slumber, and then the waking up at sea. I realized that I had been carried for miles in a great arc, borne along by a Grace beyond comprehension. I was so very gently and naturally being returned to land in this lovely twilight, far down the beach from where I had embarked, and lifetimes, really, from the child who had drifted and rocked so innocently to sleep in the arms of the ocean mother.

At last I was climbing back onto the shore, and after all that had transpired, I was simply famished for french fries. As it turned out, the concession had closed by then, but it didn’t really matter. Just the hunger pangs alone were enough to make me smile.




http://i46.tinypic.com/mhavcl.jpg





gbRKfieMsdQ

[Arrowwind]

A 360 Perspective

It was winter of 93 and I was living in Redmond, Oregon in a pathetic 5th trailer with two small kids and a distant husband in the midsts of a trecherous winter. The snow was piled up to the door and sinus infection was throbbing at my head. In eight hours I was supposed to be on an airplane to Phoenix, Arizona for a workshop with my spiritual teacher, the second leg of my Red Lodge. I had just sold my grandmother's antique diamond engagement ring to cover the costs. No matter, I didn't like her anyway. This money was to help reverse some of the damage she had done to me.

But this sinus infection. The pain was becoming excruciating and I was beginning to wonder how I could endure driving to Portland on the tail end of a snowstorm and safely over Mount Hood. The pain was almost blinding and the pressure in my head felt like a tourniquet with 10 pound weights attached squeezing my eyes and brains in. I thought for sure I would die if I had to mount any physical or mental effort at all. It felt like I was losing my mind as I sat shaking from chill that would not respond to any heat or blanket or even tylenol. If I was to make it clearly there would need to be some immediate divine intervention.

I sat down with my homeopathy books and considered my symptoms, thumbed through the materia medica, consulted the repertory. Each word I read pounded in my head.

Hmm. Seems like Silica should take care of it. I was too exhausted to consider any further. If it wasn’t' silica then I would just have to die for I had no more resource to look further.

I took Silica 200c and went to bed, too weak to even consider a phone call to cancel my flight.

One hour later I awoke. My god! I felt good! I was well. It was a little miracle. I had 7 hours to get to Portland and onto the plane. Generally it could be done in four and a half but with the snow driving would be slow and I wasn’t even packed yet for the 4 day event. A rush of activity sent me to the shed to find the suitcase. Freezing cold outside but I went without a jacket without any ill effect. I truly was better! Soon I was in my car heading out. A brief stop at Grandmas to drop the kids off till John got home from work.

The snow was an issue but the Taurus does well in snow. I moved along at 45 miles an hour or so for a good part of the way. I took a quick stop at Mt. Hood for hot tea and some fuel and then on my way again to head down the mountain. Going down in snow took extra consideration and Mt Hood offered a 6% grade to keep you on your toes. I wouldn't go over 35 I decided. No plows had been seen yet. No sand on the curves.

Suddenly before I knew it the speedometer was hitting 45 just from the downhill pull. I hadn’t been using my gas since before the incline started. Oh Sh^t! Any faster and I would go careening off the road!

Ok don’t freak. Just a small tap on the brakes.
Only one small tap spun me out. I was suddenly doing 360s down the highway. OH Sh^t! Oh Sh^t ! Oh Sh^t!

In the midst of my developing panic without plan without warning without knowing how, my reality instantly changed.

I was suddenly out of my car up in the air looking down on the event below me, watching my car do spins down the mountain side.
I could even see the faces of the drivers in the oncoming traffic with sheer terror on their faces, all pulling to the right as best they could. I remember feeling exrtaordinarly calm. Merely an observer taking the events in without judgement. Without emotion.

Three spins I watched then saw a stone embankment coming directly at me. The voice said "if you want to get through this you better start taking responsibility. DO SOMETHING! DO ANYTHING!

As suddenly as I left my car I was back in with a death grop on the steering wheel wathcing the stone coming at me head on. Without consideration I turned the wheel radically.

Then next thing I knew I was going down the mountain road at about 35 miles an hour, perfectly in my lane, as though nothing had happened at all.

I started laughing for the sheer thrill and joy of what had happened! I laughed for the next 5 miles or so till I came to a place to stop. I felt the need to plant my feet on the ground.

The rest of my trip to Phoenix was without event. When I got to my destination and to my room I laid down for a while to rest up for the evening events. That’s when I started to shake. I shook for the next two days involuntarily, intermittently though out the day. Guess it was all a bit much for my nervous system but some very fine marijuana and some ecstatic dancing threw off the stress and I attained the goals of the Red Lodge in spite of the hurdles put in my way.

[another bob]

In the midst of my developing panic without plan without warning without knowing how, my reality instantly changed.

I was suddenly out of my car up in the air looking down on the event below me, watching my car do spins down the mountain side.
I could even see the faces of the drivers in the oncoming traffic with sheer terror on their faces, all pulling to the right as best they could. I remember feeling exrtaordinarly calm. Merely an observer taking the events in without judgement. Without emotion.

Wow, Sister! What an experience! What is it about auto accidents, eh? Although I've shared mine at this forum in another thread once before, I may drag it out and post it here tomorrow, given its similarity to what you describe. I wasn't just taken out of the car, but out of everything. Hey!

Thanks so much for that amazing story!

Blessings!

[Carmody]

[COLOR=darkorchid]Suddenly before I knew it the speedometer was hitting 45 just from the downhill pull. I hadn’t been using my gas since before the incline started. Oh Sh^t! Any faster and I would go careening off the road!

Ok don’t freak. Just a small tap on the brakes.
Only one small tap spun me out. I was suddenly doing 360s down the highway. OH Sh^t! Oh Sh^t ! Oh Sh^t!

In the midst of my developing panic without plan without warning without knowing how, my reality instantly changed.

I was suddenly out of my car up in the air looking down on the event below me, watching my car do spins down the mountain side.
I could even see the faces of the drivers in the oncoming traffic with sheer terror on their faces, all pulling to the right as best they could. I remember feeling extraordinarily calm. Merely an observer taking the events in without judgement. Without emotion.

Three spins I watched then saw a stone embankment coming directly at me. The voice said "if you want to get through this you better start taking responsibility. DO SOMETHING! DO ANYTHING!

As suddenly as I left my car I was back in with a death grip on the steering wheel watching the stone coming at me head on. Without consideration I turned the wheel radically.

Then next thing I knew I was going down the mountain road at about 35 miles an hour, perfectly in my lane, as though nothing had happened at all.

I started laughing for the sheer thrill and joy of what had happened! I laughed for the next 5 miles or so till I came to a place to stop. I felt the need to plant my feet on the ground.

The rest of my trip to Phoenix was without event. When I got to my destination and to my room I laid down for a while to rest up for the evening events. That’s when I started to shake. I shook for the next two days involuntarily, intermittently though out the day. Guess it was all a bit much for my nervous system but some very fine marijuana and some ecstatic dancing threw off the stress and I attained the goals of the Red Lodge in spite of the hurdles put in my way.


You stepped out of your body to avoid the death moment. It was probably an unplanned death moment, possibly. They DO happen. chance presents..chance. Forks in the road. Most folks will get out of their body before they die, before the avatar is smucked up.

However..sometimes..the connection is too strong, or the moment is entirely unplanned most specifically..unexpected. (death from behind, explosion, sudden drowning (tsunami -while in a closed house) and other such events.

In those cases, that can be the genesis of what we like to call a ghost. For example, a HS or guide cannot step into a person and intervene directly. It is my understanding that this is not to be done.

Then there is also the point of 'everything is permitted', which you tend to hear tales about such a line being spoken by folks possibly involved in dark forces. Well...that my be true but that line says nothing about 'consequence'.

Thus, if one is stuck and can't directly 'get out' and may be about to turn into the equivalent of a tortured ghost, well...there is one who can intervene..and that is a incarnated 'human'. Remember, 'everything is permitted.' Just remember the idea of consequence, future life directions, and so on. No higher judgement, there is only responsibility to/of the self.

This book covers the problem and explains things quite nicely, but never touches on the 'rules' that I have just illustrated, regarding those specific situations. But it does cover the idea of 'ask and you shall receive'. (but as the Rolling Stones said, you may only '...get whet you need'. For all the right reasons.)

http://www.llewellyn.com/product.php?ean=9780738719351



This other book will only be of any use to you, if you are 'psychic'. If you are, it may possibly be the most hilarious book you will ever read. at the same time it helps bring perspective:
http://www.llewellyn.com/product.php?ean=9780738719610

For example, right now, I gave up smoking weed (which I do periodically), about 1.5 months ago. Immediately, the precognitive dreams begin. That I wake up knowing the details and flow of my coming day. If I'm involved, I know the day's shape and flow, the peak events and moments. Even if they are entirely unplanned, and I am there due to others involvement. Kinda like the film 'Next'. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Next_%282007_film%29) If I remain clean, as they say, it will only get stronger. Then it will cascade into knowing at all times, and all time and potentials will begin to blend together. I just have to face it and move into it, with a will (health of the avatar is a part of the issue, thus this poisoning of the environment and people, you see...). Then I will be able to speak all words of all conversations of all whom come into contact with me, before it happens, at the same time my psychic sensitivity jumps into all directions. timelines, flow, and waking visions. Then this will cascade onto being/having the ability to direct energy (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Medusa_Touch_%28film%29) (why does it always seem to have to be dramatized as being nasty and scary?-unknowing human fears, that's why) or what you might call it. Fry electronics (side effect), and so on. To step inside of living people, or lost spirits, equally, as a rider or participant. Careful here! Remember....consequence. Everything is permitted, yes..but remember..consequence.

So yes, for the past month and a half, I've known what my coming day is, before it happens. I'm not sure if that is boring, or interesting. Kinda hard to tell the difference, for it is what I know, as opposed to not being of such a state. Like everything that can be experienced, it evolves into being 'normal'.

Even though I'm a scientifically minded person, Newtonian and Einsteinian logic and 3d worlds take a total crap dive in the face of that.

When you cascade the logic of that, and add in the idea of being a very thorough researcher, who is very careful to avoid confusion via devising and carrying through experiments (single cause) for decades, this puts me miles and miles ahead of those who do not understand such things. The understanding of nature and matter (3d linear sense and beyond) becomes child's play, for a start.

It is suggested by the evidence, that black ops sciences and hidden truths are well beyond such things.

For example, that 'yellowbook' as we have heard of it, from Dan Burisch, becomes a simple device to build, in some ways, and that a person who plays with it, not knowing of the word 'consequence', they would be cursing themselves if they even touch on playing with any of what they get out of it. (oh, the temptation!!) (In my estimation and knowledge, 'yellowbook' and 'looking glass' are far from being some fantastical joke. Given time, opportunity, and resources I feel I could build either/both. The danger resides in their being handled by the unaware and undeveloped)

Which may be part of the why of it being handed to 'humans' to to play with. Humans who do not understand the depths of consequence. If we had and have a group of 'humans' who think they control us, this handing of such a device to them, may have been their own curse...that they failed to recognize.

[Carmody]

For those of you whom have never read anything like this:

Now you have a problem, you see.....I've informed you.

Now you cannot say that 'you never knew'. But...don't worry, your life and it's directions are entirely your own. Both the curse...and the gift.

[ThePythonicCow]

Newtonian and Einsteinian logic and 3d worlds take a total crap dive in the face of that.
I'm not sure about the rest of your post ... but you at least got that part right :).

[another bob]

Then it will cascade into knowing at all times, and all time and potentials will begin to blend together. I just have to face it and move into it, with a will (health of the avatar is a part of the issue, thus this poisoning of the environment and people, you see...). Then I will be able to speak all words of all conversations of all whom come into contact with me, before it happens, at the same time my psychic sensitivity jumps into all directions. timelines, flow, and waking visions. Then this will cascade onto being/having the ability to direct energy (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Medusa_Touch_%28film%29) (why does it always seem to have to be dramatized as being nasty and scary?-unknowing human fears, that's why) or what you might call it. Fry electronics (side effect), and so on. To step inside of living people, or lost spirits, equally, as a rider or participant. Careful here! Remember....consequence. Everything is permitted, yes..but remember..consequence.


"Chasing after shadows . . . living with the ghosts"


8Cu5yi84ngs

[Jenci]

There was a lesson there, and it now raced back to me. I once again had found myself in a powerless condition, and so I stretched into a floating position on my back, exhaled, and gave up the struggle. I let everything go.

It all seemed so peaceful now, and timeless. I rested in the unknown of it all. Above me, the blue sky was beginning to blaze into the light of a glorious sunset, and I had become numb to the chilly embrace of the ocean on my skin. Gradually, an older, deeper remembrance began to flood my consciousness, obliterating any lingering traces of fear, or any concern at all.




It seems to me Bob that you had lessons early on in life which gave you the opportunity to surrender and that really is quite ususual, I would guess. I'm also thinking about the story when you were 7 in the basement too.

So was that it in terms of learning the lesson about surrender, or was there more?

Jeanette

[another bob]

It seems to me Bob that you had lessons early on in life which gave you the opportunity to surrender and that really is quite ususual, I would guess. I'm also thinking about the story when you were 7 in the basement too.

So was that it in terms of learning the lesson about surrender, or was there more?

Jeanette

Good Day, Sister!

It seems to never end, at least as long as we occupy this particular stage. We are always being tested. There are subconscious knots of resistance and fixated programs that are not easy to access and dissolve, because they only become available for inspection when prompted by triggers that arise in the course of certain experience, such as life-threatening moments, intense relational conflict, etc.. We may go along imagining that we have cleaned house, but then something may arise to show us that we still have more work to do. When the mud flies, whatever sticks is a teacher, showing us where our path lies.

Moreover, there is something else that can be said about surrender. I once wrote:

No one knows the reason for any of this – why even make it a question? Death doesn't. The unleashed wonder of that moment is sufficient to still any speculation. This is not a metaphor -- it will be the same door opening inward that once opened out.

I am that swinging door, not knowing in from out, death from life, me from you. What is surrender? The surrender that can be done is not true surrender. Who surrenders to what? Who surrenders what?

What do I possess -- what is mine -- that I can really let go of? Where can I find any portion of myself that is ever divisible from itself, except in hallucinations of self and other?

My desire to surrender is not mine, my hopes and dreams are not even mine, my living, loving, dying is not mine, nor is any surrender mine. Being nothing myself, I am already everything. To whom shall I surrender?

I do not rise in the morning by my own will, nor do I sleep by my own power. What appears before me as world and other is never at any distance from myself, and so on what altar shall I place this pretense of submission?

Even the motive to surrender at last must be seen as arising from some subtle sense of separation. What has been given, what received, other than oneself?

The one who would surrender is the one who keeps surrender out of reach.

In the midst of the stream, I, water, bend to cup water, then offer it back to the river. The river itself flows on and on, mindless of my feeble gestures, my fantasies of surrender.


Blessings!

[another bob]

http://i47.tinypic.com/1fk7eg.gif




http://i48.tinypic.com/o08h6t.gif





http://i50.tinypic.com/1z1sk04.gif





http://i49.tinypic.com/112bofd.gif

[Arrowwind]

What Love means to me

To me….

Love is relentless desire to pursue and be one with the beloved

Love is an act, an intention, a sensation, an emotion, and a gift

Love is compassion when it is easier to turn away

Love is protection to the innocent

Love is respect for another’s work, another’s dream, another’s memory

Love is giving time to listen

Love is an act of courage

Love is the ability to say no

Love is letting others grow and find their own journey and meaning to life
and being able to bless them on their way

Love is just being there silent, patient, holding the light

Love is allowing another to feel their pain,

without interruption,

Without judgment,
without denial,
without fixing
and then just holding them
When they are ready to receive

Love is silent, pervasive, determined, and bending

To me….

Love is the constant recognition of another’s humanity and the honoring of their personal plight in spiritual awakening

Love is not light, but where ever love is found within a person there is found light in the countenance

Love, when true, lasts forever.

It knows no boundary of time or space
It transcends dimensions
It is the only thing you create on this earth that you can take with you
and the only love you can take with you is that love
not which you have received from another
but rather what you have given to another
That is yours to keep.

To me….

You can give love to another but they cannot keep it
They can only keep the love that they themselves create, yet your gift of love shows them how, awakens within them their divine potential to love.

Only by loving one another can one learn to love. It comes from a leap of faith and grows though faith and fears not rejection, or any negative emotion or act

Yet love will protect the lover, for to love completely one must first love and respect themselves, nurture themselves and work to heel themselves from any injustice suffered. When one loves themselves they will be inclined to enter into events in life that are nurturing to their highest good, and at times these events are mysterious and even dangerous but love born out of faith will protect them and their souls mission. If faith is held strong there is no challenge or danger that love cannot surmount.

The knowledge and gift of love generated within must be chosen every day until the capacity for loving is fully matured. It can be forgotten, buried, lost to other passions if it is not a true and complete love that is daily nurtured

To me….

Love is selfless

Love is selfless attention to something outside of yourself
Be it another, a work, an art, a passion to create beauty within the world

Love can be given with word, intent, deed, touch, smile, eye-to-eye contact, prayer.

Love is the supreme skill, the supreme talent, and the supreme gift
Love springs forth from your knowingness of your divine nature
And can be born out of innocence, as like a child or from great endeavors, like a pilgrim in the journey across the mountains of life.
Love can be grown, nurtured, kept in the sun, Fed like a plant.
The more it is fed the greater it will grow.
Faith in your process, your journey, your inherent right of divinity strengthens your capacity to love.

To me….

Love is experienced and felt in the heart area and is deciphered by the mind

Love can shift the physiology of the body.

Love is what makes life worth living and love in action fills your days with meaning and purpose. And the more you enact love through gifting the more love you have to give.

[write4change]

I dropped out at page ten for a while because of stuff. I have spent three hours reading every word. This is what I most wanted to find at Avalon. This or something like it would have been the third thread I would have started. I am so glad that I don't have to. What I really love about this thread is not only has settled into a heart congruency but that it has done it on its own and as a natural process. This is the first time I have felt we could really come to community. I have loved all this open heart and deep felt sharing. I am now exhausted but will return with a story.

Some of the writing is just exquisite. It calls to the strength of us. I just love love love it.

[Fred Steeves]

What I really love about this thread is not only has settled into a heart congruency but that it has done it on its own and as a natural process. This is the first time I have felt we could really come to community. I have loved all this open heart and deep felt sharing.

I agree write4change, this thread is turning out exactly as hoped for. Who knows what the canvas may look like when it's done, but from the looks of things so far, we ain't seen nothin yet!

All these stories have one major theme in common, living life. That's what we're here to do, ride this baby for all she's worth, and like the canvas, look back when the show's over, and marvel at what we created by being here together.

I don't have a story this go around, but I will offer up one of my favorite scenes, from my all time favorite t.v. show LOST, that illustrates this quite well.

Cheers All,
Fred


FEjPryaIDaA

[Arrowwind]

kinda reminds me of that day that I awoke from a nap on the sofa to look out the window and see my 63 volkswagon bus rolling unattended down the hill backwards to land squarely between my neighbors house and garage 300 yards away... what a thrill to behold!

[another bob]

Here's another little fable for pet lovers:

From a lost chapter in the Book of Genesis: Where Dogs Come From...

Adam was walking in the garden and cried out to God, "You used to walk with me every day. Now I do not see you anymore. It is Saturday Night, but I am lonely here, and it is difficult for me to remember how much you love me."

And God said, "I will create a companion for you that will be with you forever and who will be a reflection of my love for you, so that you will love me even when you cannot see me. Regardless of how selfish or childish or unlovable you may be. This new companion will accept you as you are and will love you as I do, in spite of yourself." And God created a new animal to be a companion for Adam.

And it was a good animal.

And God was pleased.

And the new animal was pleased to be with Adam and he wagged his tail.

And Adam said, "Lord, I have already named all the animals in the kingdom and I cannot think of a name for this new animal."

And God said, "Because I have created this new animal to be a reflection of my love for you, his name will be a reflection of my own name, and you will call him DOG."

And Dog lived with Adam and was a companion to him and loved him.

And Adam was comforted.

And God was pleased.

And Dog was content and wagged his tail.

After a while, it came to pass that Adam's guardian angel came to the Lord and said, "Lord, Adam has become filled with pride. He struts and preens like a peacock and he believes he is worthy of adoration. Dog has indeed taught him that he is loved, but perhaps too well."

And the Lord said, "I will create for him a companion who will be with him forever and who will see him as he is. The companion will remind him of his limitations, so he will know that he is not always worthy of adoration."

And God created CAT to be a companion to Adam.

And Cat would not obey Adam.

And when Adam gazed into Cat's eyes, he was reminded that he was not the supreme being.

And Adam learned humility.

And God was pleased.

And Adam was greatly improved.

And Dog was happy.

And Cat didn't give a sh*t one way or the other.

[sleepy]

In my early twenties I had the opportunity to work with people from all over the world. I worked with many of them for years and it was quite the learning experience. My coworkers were from: Russia, India, West Africa, Eritrea, Ecuador, Viet Nam, the Philippines, Mexico, Argentina, Lebanon. There were more but this sampling should give the gist. It was like a little League of Nations, minus any nefarious agenda.

Some of these coworkers became my dear friends. My friend Aletha was from West Africa and we lovingly referred to her as our Nubian Goddess. Although, the nickname was not geographically correct, Aletha didn’t mind.

When I first met Aletha her accent was beautiful but very thick and I had a hard time understanding her. She didn’t talk much anyways. She was a bit guarded. As the years passed we vacationed together with our daughters and became very close friends.
We worked together for about eleven years. Aletha was one of the strongest women I have ever met. She worked through two pregnancies and she worked right up until the day she gave birth. I joked with her that she would have her baby on her days off and return to work on her next scheduled day. Much to my surprise, that is what she did.


One day at work, Aletha introduced us to the money pool. We would all give her a certain amount of money each week. I think there was about ten of us in the pool. Through a lottery system, each week, one person would get everyone’s money and the cycle would continue for ten weeks, until everyone had a payday. Then we would start all over again. We were giving each other interest free loans. Aletha explained to us that in her town they used this system all the time because they did not trust the banks. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why people in West Africa didn’t trust their banks. I thought it must be because their country was behind the times. Now, all these years later, I realize just how ahead of the times they were. It’s funny how your perspective changes.

Another story Aletha told me about her hometown has come full circle for me as well. When she was in school, white people would come to the schools to vaccinate the students. Aletha said the children would jump out of the school windows and run away and hide. I imagined all of the children jumping out of the windows and heading for the hills and it made me laugh. I wondered why they did not want to get vaccinated? Today, I think of my dear friend Aletha and just how ahead of the times, or maybe just ahead of me, she was.

I hope she hasn’t become too Americanized

Edited because I didn't proof read..lol

[another bob]

Well, with Arrowind's car accident story, and Fred's "Lost" video, I feel moved to share my own car crash tale. Although I've posted elements of it in another thread some time ago, I will post the full story here:


It was about 10 PM, and I was commuting from Boston to New York in late September of 1984. It had been a bumpy year, so to speak, and I was on the brink of a rather complex career turning point.

Earlier that afternoon, I had just retrieved my car from a Boston body shop after an unenviable encounter with a runaway bus in Cuban Harlem. This had been my second visit to that particular sheet metal doctor, who was kind enough to remind me, as I drove away, that "the third time is the charm".

In retrospect, I must admit that these little clichés, floating around in the vast collective consciousness, have an odd way of validating themselves.

I was overly familiar with the stretch of highway that I was currently navigating, and mind had slipped into semi-automatic, entertaining the random road musings about God and mortgage payments, love and marriage, pasts and futures vying for attention, even as the breathless present was rushing to itself with arms wildly waving.

Glancing up, I noticed that I was approaching my designated exit along the Saw Mill Parkway. It had come up sooner than expected, punctuating my reveries. I checked the rear view mirror to see if I could move into the right lane to exit, and saw a pair of headlights in what seemed a good bit of distance behind me in the right lane. I felt comfortable about the lane switch, but as I began to cross over, I was rear-ended by the oncoming car, which had been moving at much faster speed than I had calculated. I was pushed into the guardrail to the right, then lost control and swerved through the rail on the left, plunging over the side of the mountain.

As I plummeted down the hillside, my visibility was thwarted by the darkness and the strobe-like streaks from my headlight beams as they bounced wildly off the onrushing landscape. The mind knew with complete certainty that "this was it." Not only was I about to die, but it was actually going to be really gruesome, with mangled crispy body parts and all the attendant horrors now swarming back from the 60's cautionary "Drivers Ed" films we had to sit through back in high school. An enormous fear raced through me on the wings of adrenaline – the primal survival response crushing up against sure knowledge of sheer ruin.

Suddenly I hit the bottom of the hill, but unlike the movie finale, I did not explode in a blazing fireball. Rather, my car catapulted up through the air, flipping over and over as it crossed the oncoming 2-lane highway. It continued air-borne across the service road, finally slamming into the side of the hill on the other side, where it proceeded to roll down a bit until it hung, teetering, on the edge of an embankment.

It must have been while I was in mid-air (although my recollected sense was that time itself had truly stopped) that the fear was swallowed up by a great silence. I had somehow been lifted out of the accident and into an infinite dark. This ebony silence was deeper than I had ever known and certainly beyond my feeble adjectives, and yet curiously "familiar", as if it had always been here, just behind the chitchat of everyday mind and presumed identity.

Spontaneously, there was a direct "knowing" that there was no death, but more to the point – it was self-evidently obvious that there had never been, nor could there ever be, the person I had taken myself to be. All that had been like a brief restless dream. There was no car, no accident, no trace of any reference point. There was no narrative or story line of "my life", any life, any world, any personal or collective history, any future. There was nothing to remember, nothing to forget, nothing to hope for.

Alone, yet with no sense of lack or feeling of incompleteness -- nothing to be desired or avoided, accepted or rejected. A self-illuminating consciousness without object. Awareness -- boundless and inexpressible, vastness with no center, motionless, serenity with no opposite, and thus not even serenity – such words and phrases don't even touch it -- and it went on forever, yet without even any sense of time. The timeless limitless Void, but not with any quality of lack or vacantness one might associate with that concept. In fact, there are no associations or qualities that could be applied, while immersed in that suchness.

Nor was there any sense of blissfulness about it, though that would come later, when reflecting on it from the point of view of the embodied being. It defies any attempt to frame it, since it is without reference to frame, and so I will cease my efforts in that regard. If one has had that experience, no words are necessary. If not, no words are sufficient.

Suddenly “I” was back in the crushed driver's seat, my left foot had pierced through the floor board of the car, and was dangling shoeless in the air over the embankment, shattered. People were milling about, sharing their disbelief that someone could have survived such a disaster! I was barely aware of them, just in shock from having entered into time and form once more – what a strange and bizarre experience: body, mind, self-sense! The only comparable events had happened to me early in life, at the ages of two and then again at 8, but nothing as dramatic as this.

I was engulfed in tears, but these tears had nothing to do with the accident, or survival, or relief to be essentially in one piece. I hardly cared about any of that at this point, like last night’s dream. These tears were tears of gratitude, and yet I didn’t even know what I was grateful for – just an endless gratitude for what I had been shown, but also tinged with a bit of grief at having been shrunk back down to this ridiculous human level.

An interesting postscript to that event was brought to my attention later by friends. Several reported intense experiences of Presence timed to that very night. Another, who was sitting hospital vigil with her husband in the final stages of his terminal illness, reported that -- at around 10 PM that night -- she was overwhelmed by a brilliant streak of light which shone through her heart and into and around her husband for several minutes. By the next day he had recovered completely from his illness, much to the bewilderment of the medical staff. I have no way of verifying any of this, but it seemed sincere when it was all related to me.

After the incident, however, I found that my interest in spirituality and spiritual groups in general had fundamentally dissolved. I went through the motions for several months, but had a hard time raising any enthusiasm for that game any longer. Moreover, it seemed as if I had even fallen into a semi-amnesia about the experience itself. Coming back into the body was such a step down in awareness that I felt as if I had gone through a lobotomy just to be human again. It also felt that, in the midst of the timeless state, I had received a kind of download of “recognitions”, but it would take many years to even start to process the import and implications of all that.

Thus began a long period in my life (about 15 years) where I just totally got into the ordinary world (although I did continue Zen meditation), focusing on career, spending time travelling around the globe, just soaking up other cultures and exploring the human experience in all its variety, enjoying all that incarnated life had to offer. I bought and sold homes, became a big success in my career, stocked a wine cellar, and totally threw myself into the objective world.

Nevertheless, I noticed that I would be drawn into that Void “state” occasionally in meditation, and although it was strange at first coming back into normal waking consciousness, I eventually began to adapt to the transition. As time went on, I found that I could almost merge the two states in the midst of everyday life. As long as I didn’t fixate on any particular issue, I was able to keep a non-dwelling consciousness, and in the midst of that, the Void “state” would rise to the forefront. Otherwise, it remained in the background, but informing all that appeared in consciousness. Everything became transparent, anything could be manifested, and yet nothing made any difference. It was like an absorbing movie that would be utterly forgotten the next day.

This provided a particular perspective on events, experiences, and relationships with the so-called ‘world”. I could recognize how it was all arising from thought-energy, and thus was a constant creation, held together by the power of that thought-energy. It was not a fixed or stable thing at all, but in each “moment”, became a whole new creation, as the thought-energy morphed kaleidoscopically. There was in fact no solid material world, just a subjective creation endlessly modifying itself, and yet although I could see the function, I still had not touched on the Basis for it, the motive that compelled the universal unfolding. In retrospect, if someone had told me it was Love, I would not have really understood, since that was still just a concept for me, although at the time I actually believed I had some grasp on what Love was all about. Silly boy!

That period came to an end with a big bang when I was out for a walk one day during a lunch break, and out of nowhere was suddenly knocked down to my knees and pierced at the heart by the Divine Mother. This was to be the beginning of an immense heart opening that paved the way for meeting my Beloved again for the first time in this life. That’s when things got really interesting, I was given the Pearl beyond price, and the Poetry came alive!

[Arrowwind]

I pay tribute to those who have died under my care in the free standing hospice that I work in. I honor you and acknowledge your trial, your long journey and your last walk.

They come in fear and pain carrying their bags of drugs, ports, prosthesis, artificial airways, crutches and wheel chairs, bandages adorning their countenance, their bodies with foul odors trailing behind them. Flesh and spirit dissected, mentation annihilated. For they have crossed the battlefield of the war on cancer, gone through the technology of heart disease, the shame of AIDS, the disintegration of diabetes, the destitution of alcoholism and drug addiction, the emptiness of Alzheimer's, and the humiliation of poverty from their drive to survive, until the bittersweet end. That bittersweet day when peace finally presides.

I remember Dorothy at ninety.. Chipper and talkative. She told you her story and it was a story worth telling. Now the lung cancer binds her to her bed. Morphine to assist with every venture to the commode. She feared the day when she could not rise to the toilet more than any pain or any other physical limitation. She had told me months earlier that if that came to pass then she was ready to pass.. Blood comes from her lungs now. The morphine is frequent, and the ativan for relentless anxiety. No, not that SHE was anxious. No! It was just that dam body that has a mind of its own. The shortness of breath was to blame. She had never had an anxious day in her life before this. Thank god for ativan.

Then the day of determination came. To the couch room as we call it, we all went, where important decisions are made. She sat tall and clear with a word of wisdom or support, individually, for everyone in the room. Here she spoke her truth to us all, but especially her children who had come from a distance to bid her farewell, to witness and accept. Soon the oxygen would come off she said.

She would take it off and end this misery. Take it off and avoid her worst fears, for death was not one of them. Nursing, social work, chaplain, Mormon bishop, friends, family all present to hear her proclomation. It was clear to see this was a telling of her last act of power.

I went that evening to say good bye to her. Her intent remained clear and I knew she would not be here when I returned in the morning. In that last moment she had her way of making me feel special, when that's what I wanted to give to her. Well, she is older, more experienced, more in control than I. She knew better the gift of giving. It poured out of her.

That night I sat home and worried. Would she do it well? Would that new nurse know how to take care?

That night she asked for and was given the ativan. Not much. Just a milligram. But soon she was asleep. Sleeping deeply. Now the morphine. Morphine, in low dosage makes you not care that you are short of breath. It eases the angst of a breath that brings no life. It keeps you from longing for that which you can no longer have. Her daughter took the oxygen off as Dorothy had requested. In a very short time she was gone.
_________________
"And in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make" Lennon

[RunningDeer]

http://i1262.photobucket.com/albums/ii610/WhiteCrowBlackDeer/Wilderness%20and%20Space/unity.gif

[sleepy]

I was so excited and I knew something wonderful was about to happen. I was accompanying my dad and we were on our way to pick up my mom and a new baby sister. I felt special because I got to go with my dad to the hospital. I was the fifth of six children and I was five years old. I was filled with anticipation and anxious to meet the baby girl. She didn’t have a name yet and my dad was going through the names that they had it narrowed down to.

I told my dad that we should name her Lassie. I was crushed when he laughed at me. I loved Lassie and thought it was the perfect name but my dad flat out rejected the idea. At the hospital, he told my mom that I wanted to name my baby sister Lassie and she laughed too. I didn’t see the humor in it and I didn’t care what they said I was going to call her Lassie.

My baby sister is my favorite sibling. Maybe it is wrong to have a favorite but I do. I love all of my siblings but my baby sister and I share a connection and a bond that I cannot describe. It comes from the soul. She has been my rock and my light in the storm. I only hope that I reciprocate her strength. When I was twenty-one, she came to live with me for a while. Several years later I got her a job at the “little League of Nations minus the nefarious agenda” and she still works there. I moved on and we live in different states and I miss her terribly.

Today is a good day. It is brilliant day because Lassie is coming to stay with me for a few days. My heart is happy and my soul is beaming. Like that day, all those years ago, when I was five years old, I am so excited and I know something wonderful is going to happen.

Can you just feel the love? My wish for all you storytellers, even if Lassie isn’t visiting you, is that your heart is happy and your soul is beaming.

[Fred Steeves]

I pay tribute to those who have died under my care in the free standing hospice that I work in. I honor you and acknowledge your trial, your long journey and your last walk.

They come in fear and pain carrying their bags of drugs, ports, prosthesis, artificial airways, crutches and wheel chairs, bandages adorning their countenance, their bodies with foul odors trailing behind them. Flesh and spirit dissected, mentation annihilated. For they have crossed the battlefield of the war on cancer, gone through the technology of heart disease, the shame of AIDS, the disintegration of diabetes, the destitution of alcoholism and drug addiction, the emptiness of Alzheimer's, and the humiliation of poverty from their drive to survive, until the bittersweet end. That bittersweet day when peace finally presides.

Arrowwind, I honor and acknowledge you, and everyone who does Hospice work. You are amazing and strong people. I hope to be fortunate enough to be under the care of someone like you, should that time arrive. Tough to read that story and tribute with a dry eye. Impossible actually.

My wife and I finally had to make the decision to place her gramma in an ALF around 8 years ago. She turned 100 this past May, and is still going strong. She's still going strong only because she's terrified to die, and no other reason. Nothing we can do about that, she's now deep into Alzheimers, and barely even knows who we are any more, much less to talk about such things. She ran for her life many times during the bombings of Berlin towards the end of WW 2, stepping over dismembered bodies of children and such while doing so, so that likely has something to do with it.

As you obviously well know, the average person only lives around 3 years or so in these places, and god have we seen them come and go over the years. Bitter sweet it is. Visiting frequently, you get to know the others there as well. Meet them, learn their ailments, make them smile whenever possible, hugs, hear their stories, look at their pictures, and come to really care for some of them. Then one day you stop by their room to say hello, and the room is empty. So it goes.

Tom was one of those. I only met him by accident, because I mistook him for someone else. We really clicked, and before long he was telling me about WW2, the part of the war not in the history books. The part where most guys didn't really want to be there, and how during a firefight, while sheltering behind a tree, would purposely stick arms and legs out, gladly sacrificing one just for a ticket out of there, and to home. This was before I knew any true history, and it was quite shocking.

Tom was the resident one man cheer up squad for the others, especially sweet talking the ladies in wheelchairs. He could make them giggle like little girls. He was always out and about, spreading good cheer, so the day I came to visit gramma and didn't see him, I asked a worker. "Didn't you know? Tom has advanced lung cancer. His doctor has been begging him to stay in bed, and now he finally has no choice. He has about a month to live".

He was still very cheery when I stuck my head in to say hi, but it was obvious he was a bit different now, I could see it in his eyes. He was preparing himself. Gramma missed out on some attention over the next few weeks as he rapidly deteriorated, and before not too long at all, he was getting that death rattle. There wasn't much the Hospice nurses could do either, besides just be there.

That was when I coaxed out of him what kind of music he liked, and bought the radio. I tracked down Frank Sinatra, Benny Goodman, and The Andrew Sisters I think was the third. I'm still so glad I did that...The nurses would say how eventually that was his one enjoyment left in life at the end, to try and sing along with the oldies.

Then one cold December morning I woke up early, arounf 4-5:00 AM, and had the feeling that right now might be the last time I see Tom alive. I hurriedly got dressed and went over there, but was too late. Tom had died about an hour earlier, right about the time I had awoken. He was peaceful now atleast, no more labored death rattle breathing and delirium. I put my hand on his now cold forehead, said goodbye, and held back the tears long enough to get back to my truck for the slow, pre dawn ride home.

I don't know why Tom affected me so deeply, but this much I do know. He gave me much more than I gave him. They all do. At times I get the sense that every person I ever made smile, or gave a hug to over these years and has since passed on, are watching over me just a bit. And I thank them.

Here's a picture of me and gramma at her big 100th birthday party last May.

18595

[Fred Steeves]

Can you just feel the love? My wish for all you storytellers, even if Lassie isn’t visiting you, is that your heart is happy and your soul is beaming.

Yes sleepy I can, and thank you!http://nexus.2012info.ca/forum/images/smilies/newadditions/smile.gif

[Arrowwind]

[Arrowwind, I honor and acknowledge you, and everyone who does Hospice work. You are amazing and strong people. I hope to be fortunate enough to be under the care of someone like you, should that time arrive. Tough to read that story and tribute with a dry eye. Impossible actually.

Just thought that I'd mention that I dont work in hospice anymore. In fact I let my nursing license go this past summer. I think it is a trail of travel that I’m done with now. Most of these hospice stories I have written while doing the work but I still have ones to write yet and perhaps this thread will motivate me to produce them. This week, going through the old stores I've written and saved up, is helping me to remember and also helping me to rewrite them and clean them up.

I once worked in an Alzheimer’s facility and each room had two patients to each room. Outside each patient room was a locked window box where the patients could put photos or other little pieces of their life to make a showcase of their journey. Needless to say, these window boxes fascinated me. Here I had the opportunity to see a little slice of what their life had been like and what was important to them. Of course most of the boxes had been created through family members eyes and memories for the patients were no longer capable. But it seemed to me that seeing these objects of their possession, those things that they valued seemed to help me to understand who they were. I have photos of family members now long past but those photos do not really tell me what they were like as a person except that perhaps they were beautiful, had good teeth, smoked cigars etc. The photos don’t carry much information for me. They don’t tell me who they were and I’m no psychic so I don’t read off of images.

Since I was as child I have not liked to have my photograph taken. There is a photo of me in my mom's photo album that speaks of my defiance to the camera and anyone who would transgress my wishes. I’m three years old in the photo that I was forced to pose for. I remember that that day I was wearing my big brothers t shirt that I hated, my hair was a mess and that I didn’t want to be messed with. I stand there in defiance with a frown on my face, my eyes squinted my arms folded across my chest and anger raging inside me. If you aren’t a psychic it was still pretty easy to read who I was at that moment in time.

Since that day there are few photos of me. I have resisted being 'captured' on film with a vengeance and consequently it has resulted in few photos of anyone in my immediate family, but especially me. My discomfort with the camera has only increased as the years have gone by.
So my children once asked me "how will we remember you if there are no photos? What can we show our children?"

I spent some time thinking about it over a couple of years. They made me feel like I was cutting them at the root. One day I realized that what I want my family to know about me cannot be found in a photo. That image of a long dead person really doesn’t tell any story, does not reveal any truth, and does not reflect a life lived. It is only an image that will be interpreted through the eyes of someone with all their prejudice, all their ideas of what people look like and what that might mean, which surely will be wrong.

In my own exploration into family that came before we came upon a book that my husband’s great great grandfather wrote and because of that writing it feels like he's the only one we know beyond our impression, beyond our wild imaginings, beyond our prejudices for he told us his truth. Wild Bill Hickman was an "Avenging Angel", a Dante, a henchman for the illustrious Brigham Young and his life, through his works is a revelation on many levels, and a legacy that will be passed to the next generation and the next for as long as they choose to carry it.

It has helped me to see that a legacy of a life is not in a photograph. It is in a good story and like the window boxes in the Alzheimer’s unit, it brings forth gems of reflection that would otherwise be lost forever.

So I started to write. And these past few weeks here on blank canvas I have been moving through those things that I have written, editing, correcting, enhancing with details I forgot to mention, as well fixing my terrible spelling. This is my legacy to my children, and grandchildren so that they can know an ancestor... not to forget to mention my own mirrors of self reflection.

[Mitzvah]

Youth, it's one of the most thrilling and rewarding times to be alive, and yet, it can also be one of the most challenging of times to our budding personalities and psyches. I'm sure we've all seen someone sometime during our childhood and youth years being cruel to one of their peers. One of my most memorable experiences of being the butt of another's cruel jokes happened when I was twelve years old - a most vulnerable, sensitive time for young girls, and young boys, too. We all so want to fit in, to be accepted, loved, and admired, and we especially don't ever want to stand out as being different, or less-liked than our friends and peers.

A friend of mine decided to have her first real party the summer of my 12th year. I was very excited because we were both just starting to like boys and we hoped that they would notice us as potential girlfriend possibilities. Our young hearts were soaring as the day of the party finally arrived. We had tons of party foods and soda pops, and we had put together all kinds of 45 records to play on our portable hi-fi. I recall hearing the song 'Tears of a clown' playing that night. I couldn't have been more happy, nor more excited to be at this party, laughing, playing, and just bursting with youthful exhuberance.

As the party went on we decided to play a game, a game in which the girls all took one of their shoes off and placed them in a big pile on the patio where we had the phonograph set up and the food tables. The idea was that the boys would then pick out the shoe of the girl he wanted to dance with, and he would take it to her and they would dance ... dance moonfully, puppy-lovingly together. I placed my little canvas sneaker in the pile, wild with anticipation at who might choose me to dance with. As I approached the shoe pile to see my happy fortune, the boys all began laughing like madmen, hilariously as if their sides would split. I looked all through the shoes that were remaining to be picked by a boy, and I couldn't find mine. Lots of the boys and girls had already begun pairing up and dancing.

Not being able to locate my shoe and not having yet had my shoe delivered to me for the dancing, one of the girls came over to me and pointed out into the field, over the wire fence that surrounded the backyard. Someone had taken my shoe and flung it as far as they could into the field rather than dance with me. I was mortified to the core. All my joy and all my happiness suddenly collapsed like a wet newspaper-constructed fort. I quietly walked to the fence and managed to crawl through the barbed wire, ripping my new party clothes as I did it. I gathered up my lonely sneaker and went home, alone.

I can certainly laugh about it now, but then, it was monumentally emotionally devastating. Kids can be so cruel.

[RunningDeer]

”Not being able to locate my shoe and not having yet had my shoe delivered to me for the dancing, one of the girls came over to me and pointed out into the field, over the wire fence that surrounded the backyard. Someone had taken my shoe and flung it as far as they could into the field rather than dance with me. I was mortified to the core. All my joy and all my happiness suddenly collapsed like a wet newspaper-constructed fort. I quietly walked to the fence and managed to crawl through the barbed wire, ripping my new party clothes as I did it. I gathered up my lonely sneaker and went home, alone.

I can certainly laugh about it now, but then, it was monumentally emotionally devastating. Kids can be so cruel.”

Mitzvah, I find myself wanting to apologize for the cruelty. Emotional cruelty towards another makes me see rage-red. In that moment, reptilian instincts emerge while Higher Self pokes at my shoulder.


“A Rare My-Mom Story”

I ran into the house, at 12 years old, choking back the tears. The boys were teasing me while we played baseball. They called me a "tomboy". I didn't know what it was but knew it wasn't meant as a compliment.


Mom, who had the gift of few words, just said, “You’re not a tomboy, your athletically inclined.”

I repeated in agreement, “Yeah, I’m athletically inclined.”


Again, I had no clue what it meant, but it just felt right. I ran back out and yelled at the boys, “I’m not a tomboy, I’m athletically inclined.”


It fixed the problem. They never called me a tomboy again, probably because they didn’t know what athletically inclined meant either.

[another bob]

I was eight years old, and had just returned from the Catholic Youth Organization summer camp. When I stepped off the bus back in San Francisco, after 2 great weeks on my own for the first time, I was so happy to see my family again that I fell into a kind of swoon.

When I next opened my eyes, I was lying on a couch in my parent's house. I realized that these people were not real. The whole world had taken on something of a dreamy nature, or perhaps it was just that I had never seen it this way before, at least not for quite some time. I had no frame of reference for any of this. In fact, there was no reference to frame.

A man leaned over me. I recognized the family doctor, but suddenly once again I was nothing but a pinpoint of consciousness, the universe had disappeared. There was only this sense: "I am". Meanwhile, the doctor could find nothing wrong apparently, and we had a great fried chicken dinner later.

For the rest of the summer, I lay in the backyard, watching the clouds trailing through sky. At school in the fall, I lost all interest in the lessons, falling into the swoon more often than not. I would suddenly find myself in a room with other children, then I was somehow lying down in my backyard; it was night, it was day, none of it had any substantiality, everything was one piece, just like a piece of smoke. I was in love with this, somehow, but I didn't know what any of it was.

My family seemed familiar, but were weirdly interchangeable with trees, bicycles . . . it was all breathing, vanishing, appearing, changing, it was all transparent, it was me, but I didn't know what that was, it didn't even occur to me, it was too gone before you could solidify enough to try and grasp it, like river water flowing through your fingers.

Sometimes I would find that I had wandered 8 blocks or so down to the Pacific Ocean, through Golden Gate Park, and I was standing at the edge of the surf, but didn't remember how I got there, so what -- just the feel of the water lapping at my toes thrilled me with an indescribable ecstasy, there was no other day than this one.

Sometimes when I was asleep, I found myself practicing flying, and I was able to fly all over the neighborhood, swooping and diving and soaring so high! At other times, I found myself in a kind of school environment, with a lot of other folks that I knew somehow, as if we were an old familiar group, and we weren't children at all. We were learning how to merge our minds to make one mind, and then I would sort of melt into the ocean of consciousness, and it was exquisite! I also realized I had this huge love in my heart, and felt an intense ache for another -- my "other" -- though I also somehow knew that it would take a long while to find the one who would reciprocate this love.

Anyway, I eventually began assuming the conventions of my young peers -- joining in the sports games, laughing at the jokes, collecting baseball cards, and listening to the ingenious little portable transistor radios that had just come on the market. It was all a kind of a game, like "Let's Pretend", although they all seemed to take everything so seriously. At any rate, I went along. There was no resistance. It was “no big deal.” In time, it became second nature – just going along, pretending.

[Mitzvah]

”Not being able to locate my shoe and not having yet had my shoe delivered to me for the dancing, one of the girls came over to me and pointed out into the field, over the wire fence that surrounded the backyard. Someone had taken my shoe and flung it as far as they could into the field rather than dance with me. I was mortified to the core. All my joy and all my happiness suddenly collapsed like a wet newspaper-constructed fort. I quietly walked to the fence and managed to crawl through the barbed wire, ripping my new party clothes as I did it. I gathered up my lonely sneaker and went home, alone.

I can certainly laugh about it now, but then, it was monumentally emotionally devastating. Kids can be so cruel.”

Mitzvah, I find myself wanting to apologize for the cruelty. Emotional cruelty towards another makes me see rage-red. In that moment, reptilian instincts emerge while Higher Self pokes at my shoulder.


“A Rare My-Mom Story”

I ran into the house, at 12 years old, choking back the tears. The boys were teasing me while we played baseball. They called me a "tomboy". I didn't know what it was but knew it wasn't meant as a compliment.


Mom, who had the gift of few words, just said, “You’re not a tomboy, your athletically inclined.”

I repeated in agreement, “Yeah, I’m athletically inclined.”


Again, I had no clue what it meant, but it just felt right. I ran back out and yelled at the boys, “I’m not a tomboy, I’m athletically inclined.”


It fixed the problem. They never called me a tomboy again, probably because they didn’t know what athletically inclined meant either.

I love it! 'Athletically-inclined' ... too, too funny. Being athletically-inclined myself, and not one to be bested by a boy, any boy, I ran and biked and played baseball all the time with my brother and his friends. If the boys weren't going to view me as a girlfriend prospect, and if they were going to ridicule me, then they certainly weren't going to beat me at anything that I could prevent them from beating me at. It's another form of the proverbial 'yike & rrreerr' syndrome. Having become excellent at sports, I entered in every single athletic event that I could during our school's annual track and field meet. In some of the races back then, girls and boys competed together. So when I beat all of them in every event I entered in, I was just walking on clouds with egoic thrill in abundance. It was marvelous, that is until my folks got wind of it. It seems that the local newspaper had printed the photos and story of the track meet, and my mug was right there, front and center, grinning with athletically-inclined pride. An Uncle had seen it in the newspaper and notified my patents all about it. Because I wasn't supposed to be doing any form of physical activity such as running and jumping, all due to the rhuematoid arthritis. Sports exacerbated the symptoms of the disease and so I was prevented from engaging in school sports. But I had things to prove at the time so I defied my folks and entered in the track meet's events - and won! The victory was well worth the price, in my young mind. After that I wasn't allowed to compete in school sports events. I loved your story!

[RunningDeer]

http://i1262.photobucket.com/albums/ii610/WhiteCrowBlackDeer/Wilderness%20and%20Space/unity.gif

[Mark]

It's funny how certain early lessons stay with you. Realizations about fundamental truths that mark a time and space, or that gain new relevance later in life, once their import has been belatedly realized. People are people no matter where you go.

The Invitation

To be ten years old and living in a foreign country is a blessing. It allows one to broaden the mind at an impressionable age. To be a Military Brat and used to moving constantly is to understand that you are an Ambassador to the World, and to live the rest of your life with that understanding.

From the ages of eight to eleven, I lived on the island of Crete, Greece. My father was stationed at Iraklion Air Station – a staff sergeant between the port city, Iraklion and the sea-side town, Hersonissos, where we lived for a year before moving on base. These were the mid-70s, and America had just celebrated the bi-centennial.

We were black Americans at that, stared at wherever we went. Whether it be the ruins of Knossos palace where the ghost of the Minotaur lurked, cobblestoned villages high on Mount Edna or outdoor Markets in the bustling towns and cities, the reaction was the same: smiles, stares and friendly greetings, because black Americans were an anomaly back then, rarely seen by foreigners outside of the United States. We enjoyed a freedom of expression and action that has not been lost upon me and has formed the person that I am today. I lived each day in a state of wonder, exploring my surroundings with other American children.

I remember one Greek family quite well. A husband, his wife and their son, Monoli. They lived a few houses down from us, in the town of Hersonissos. Behind our house lay a few more old houses and an olive grove that marked the end of town. Past the grove, the island rose precipitously into the sky. I remember it as a wall of green, crisscrossed by slate-gray roads and the alabaster veneer of tiny walls, climbing the mountainous slope.

From the roof of our apartment, I could see the blue-purple waters of the Mediterranean sea. The houses were of different designs, but conforming to a type that might be called tropical, being painted a uniform white and stylistically box-like. The buildings were separated by narrow streets that, in those years, held more donkey and scooter traffic than automobiles.

Each morning my sister, Maya, and I would catch the American bus to school with the other Brats, always a wild bunch, given to loud expression and unruly solidarity. The dramas of childhood were no different for us than with other kids, even though we were being raised in a foreign country. Our play was no different from normal American childrens, unless you count speaking non-native languages and playing on exotic beaches, valleys and mountainsides as unusual. Past the 8th Grade, the Brats were sent to the mainland to Zaragoza, Spain to live in dormitories and attend school.

Each afternoon, we would get off the bus down on the main street through town and walk up the hill; me, Maya, and a few other children who lived near us. Monoli would be out front every day, running around, pretending he was riding a scooter. He spoke no English, but he and I would smile at each other and play in the same vicinity, although we never really played together. There was something of a rivalry between the Greek kids and the American kids. Our little gangs would throw dirt clods and chase each other through the back streets, cursing the best we knew how, with us Americans using the Greek words for shut up and other terms that we thought were curse words, but probably werent.

There was one house in particular, a small, gray-boarded shack with dirty, dark windows that we were particularly afraid of. It was the house of the Octopus Man. I dont recall why we called him that, or why we were afraid of his house, since I dont remember ever seeing him. But we did used to sneak up to the window and peer cautiously within then run, screaming away to gather in small groups, whispering about what we had seen inside.

Monolis family was friendly with my own. His mother spoke a little English, and got along well with my mother. I dont ever remember our fathers ever speaking, but then, fathers dont run households; mothers do. For 6 months, we lived on that hill in Greece, overlooking the sea before the relationship between our families progressed to the point where we were invited into their home. I was very excited by this and remember being quite impatient on the eve of our visit.

With my parents leading the way, we marched to Monolis door. His mother answered with a beautiful smile, ushering us in. Their house wasnt so different from our own, although they owned theirs and lived in both the upper and lower apartments, while we lived only in the upper apartment of our building.

The smell was wondrous, but before I could determine its source, Monoli took my hand and pulled me back to his room, where he enthusiastically began showing me Greek comic books, in black and white. We were having a great time, so I was very surprised when my father came to the room, not 15 minutes later, to tell me it was time to go.

As we walked back to the front door, Monolis parents were in the hall with my mother and sister, their expressions anxious. I took this time to look around, and in the room immediately to my right, there was a table, laid out with all kinds of food. I could see what I later learned was calamari, cooked squid, and snails, and other steaming, scrumptious dishes. There was so much food, the table was piled high with it. I wanted to eat, wanted to try the snails and the other unfamiliar food, but, at the time, I remember thinking that we must not be invited to dinner, because we were apparently leaving without getting to eat. I remember being disappointed, but leaving with my family, never to return again.

After that, Monoli didnt smile at me anymore. His face would drop and he would get quiet when I walked by, or his mother would call him into the house. I never saw my mother speak to his again, either. Being so young, I had no conception of social mores and what happened when they were broken. It wasnt until many years later that I found out we had left their house without eating because my parents didnt recognize the food and felt uncomfortable, leaving despite our hosts protestations. My parents hadnt realized that we had been invited to dinner, but when they found out, rather than sit down to eat they had decided to leave.

We had broken a social code, a human code, and, thereafter, were shunned by that family. I knew something had happened, something that had disturbed some somnolent archetype, provoking an automatic response that was primal in nature. But those were undercurrents that I would only become aware of as an adult, remembering.

At the same time, I learned that it was possible to form bonds with people from different countries despite the fact that we didnt speak the same language. To be an American, an Ambassador to the World from the Greatest Country in the World, was imprinted upon us, reinforced every day by the Pledge of Allegiance at school, and at 1200 hours and 1700 hours, when the Star Spangled Banner and God Bless America would play on the base-wide intercom and all traffic would still in nationalistic reverence.

I would put that prescient knowledge into practice years later when I became a soldier, stationed in Germany, living with and loving people with whom I had little in common other than a shared sense of humanity, potential and a love of art, music and dancing.

I sometimes wonder how Monolis life has turned out. And when I think of that little island and the two years that we lived there, my heart warms, in synch with the tropical sun and the crashing of frothy, emerald waves upon oil-dotted, white sands.

Maya visited Crete again some years ago and told me that the island had changed; become more touristy, with hotels and dirt replacing older homes and open spaces filled with the distinctive, ochre grass. The magical, tree-sheltered brooks and seemingly ancient courtyards that embellish my recollections may still exist, but the echo of our lives on that distant island is long gone, as is the official, American presence. But the olive groves, craggy, cliff-side highways and ancient trees still recede from the coast up into the highlands, where the crass visitation of ogling sight-seers is much less intrusive or destructive to native life.

Someday I hope to return to Crete with my children, so they can perhaps glimpse some echo of my distant and unusual past in the excitement of my expressions and memories. I firmly believe that we can only know who we are by reconciling ourselves with who we have been. By projecting the best of now and then into the future and who we want to become.

[another bob]

I would put that prescient knowledge into practice years later when I became a soldier, stationed in Germany, living with and loving people with whom I had little in common other than a shared sense of humanity, potential and a love of art, music and dancing.

How wonderful, Brother, that you had a chance to experience other cultures, and at such a formative age, which gave you the chance to see that people are not that different, beneath the surface! Unfortunately, when I began my own overseas adventures, being recognized as an American had become a bit tricky (particularly in Asian, Muslim and Third World countries), and so I occasionally passed myself off as a Canadian, especially when bargaining at the bazaars. Most vendors figured Americans were rich and stupid, and so they would charge twice the normal price for stuff. When I told them I was Canadian, they lowered the prices considerably, but I still enjoyed haggling with them, it was like a sport or pasttime, and actually they expected that.

Thanks for that great memoir!

Blessings!

[Mark]

I've lived 8 of my years outside of the US, I think it has informed my understanding of things in many ways to be able to look in on the US and all that we do as Americans from the outsiders perspective. Especially when juxtaposed against the intense early-life indoctrination I and my siblings - and other brats - were exposed to. Knowing that there are other perspectives at the level of nations and that countries have identities that we slip on like a mask was a revelation that began in Greece and was reinforced in Germany and Belgium, for me. To understand both the outsider and insider perspective intimately is to live within a split consciousness of sorts, with no resolution possible until both are transcended.

To further vivify the realization, a coalescing racial identity imposed by society - 3rd grade is where the difference first manifest itself culturally in my experience - taking on personal experiential reality further stratified my consciousness as I became the outsider within, as the Americanized version of the racial hierarchy clashed with the cloak of a shallow but very real and automatic solidarity provided by being an American among Americans of all ethnic identities, bound together despite internal differences in foreign countries. There is a lot of documentation regarding brats and the military, and those of us who grew up in the closest thing this country has ever come to in producing a sub-society of racial equality, albeit it is military in nature and "equality" is mandated by rules that were very strictly enforced. Growing up in that cocoon of multi-cultured and multiracial relative harmony made the shock of being thrust into the "real world" when i went to college all the more dramatic. This is definitely not to say that there are not shades of greater societal inequality present therein, there were, and just as ossified and institutionalized as the society around them, just a bit deeper buried than is the case generally in the expression of US history and culture.

To top it off, sleep paralysis and OOBEs started for me then, in Greece, insomnia and the realization that things I was experiencing were not the same as the other children I knew. Difference, within difference, within difference, within difference. D to the 4th power. LOL

But I'm sure it is this way for everyone. ;)

[another bob]

To understand both the outsider and insider perspective intimately is to live within a split consciousness of sorts, with no resolution possible until both are transcended.


In 1980, I was fortunate enough to be guided by a friendly Indonesian to a semi-secret ceremony being conducted by a local priest/shaman at the mouth of a bat cave, just up from the shore of the Indian Ocean.

It was a stormy day, but during the ceremony the skies cleared, and I found myself sitting near the bamboo platform of the white-clad priest, as he rang his bell and chanted verses with about 300 worshippers before the enormous maw of a cliff cave, coated all around with several feet of black dried guano, or bat droppings.

From a National Geographic/cultural anthropological perspective, it was fascinating, for sure, but even their artfully produced travel films can hardly communicate the visceral sense of spirit presence, and Bali of course is the Island of the Spirits.

Spirit was embodied, for the participants in this ritual, by the thousands of giant bats that inhabited the cave, and who reflected all the worship going on outside with a responsiveness that could only be gleaned by one in sympathetic reverie with them, and so for that time we all became bat hearts.

I must say it was quite a hypnotic vibration, since when I turned at one point to the priest, he turned simultaneously to me, and with a beautiful sweeping motion lifted the bell and gave it a slight ding, and that was enough to flood my being with tears I could not account for, so lost was I in this Balinese bat bliss of chant and invocation to the Mystery, and at the climax of this emotion there was a sudden explosive wave of winging black beauty from the cave mouth, as an immense colony of bats swooped and glided in synch along the cliff wall to the left, and then just as gracefully returned to the cave.

At that point, everybody seemed to agree that it had been a good day for church, and gathered themselves up and wandered off somewhere, leaving me sitting in the sand, listening as the sea washed in and out, and contemplating the relativity of all religious beliefs, and what they all are rooted in -- the same sense of awe and mystery that I had been plunged into that day.

[Dorjezigzag]

How about you, have you been "there"?

Well I have been occasionally hovering on this thread;) and I have meant to reply but have been really busy and then the time did not seem right but now I shall share a few experiences.
As a 11 year old kid I moved to Edinburgh and I was put in one of the roughest schools in the city. I liked the city and the people but there is a bit of 'history' between the Scottish and the English where I came from. I had my friends but some of the rougher kids took issue with me, but to many peoples surprise, me being the 'posh' English kid, I dealt with them. In time there was no bullying in my class and we became a real tight nit group. We moved again a few times, to different parts of the UK and as I retained my original southern accent sometimes there were issues again, but I found as I stood up to it, things were fine. I guess this is how I evolved as someone who stands his ground but also as someone who will not tolerate bullying of others, as well as it being very much a part of my essence.

Anyway the story I want to tell is a little bit different, it was in the residential area of a city, not far from some of its busy bars on a Friday night. I was walking on a road where there was a lot of other people walking and everyone could hear there was a woman screaming, obviously being beaten up. Of course as I have witnessed countless times no one would go to help her, they just kept on walking; but I decided to investigate. The sound seemed to be coming from a side street that had a long path that was secluded. Eventually I found the guy and he was beating up this girl.
I called to him "what are you doing"
He replied "What do you want some"
He then ran at me and threw his best punch at my cheek
I did not even flinch and looked him squarely in the eyes
My reaction even surprised me, It did not hurt me at all and I just said to him, am I retaliating?
He then broke down in tears told me how sorry he was and told me all his frustrations and why he had beat his girlfriend.
Of course I told him it was no excuse and that he needed help which he agreed to get. The screaming was not heard again
I really felt that something came over me and it was a real lesson in the power of not retaliating. He definitely had thrown a massive punch at me but it was as though I had received some kind of protection because if he had hurt me my reaction may have been different.

Interestingly at the time I did not have hardly any mark, but several years later a dark mark appeared on my cheek in the same place he had punched me. My girlfriend made me see a dermatologist who diagnosed laser treatment, she said that she was sure it was a mark that had come from receiving a blow, it was only then did I think of that punch and it was as though the energy that had protected me had made the mark.

[Arrowwind]

Lets ressurect this thread... this cant be all we have to put on a blank canvas is it?

Cheyne Stoking

Today at work was a very unusual day for me. It brought highs and lows and challenged me and scared me and forced me to maintain my center like never before. It was not a busy day but an intense day encompassing a wide range of discovery and new understandings.

The most difficult challenge came with a new patient admitted to our facility. She was an elderly woman in the death throes of congestive heart failure. Although she was not my patient I became involved due to her incessant cries that drew me in and her nurse needed help. She was alert but clearly anxious. Her respirations were irregular and her heart rate rapid but she was cooperative and coherent.

Suddenly a change came upon her. She started to cry out and loudly! Caregivers scrambled to deal with this sudden and unexpected sharp turn.

She lay prostrated on the bed with a cool cloth upon her forehead. Her skin was ice cold as she started to sweat soaking her gown and sheets. Her eyes looked upward at to be focused on some unseen vision to us. Her oxygen saturation was 73 and her heart rate bounced from 120 to 158. She was alert but now confused and she grasped her daughter’s hand tightly. A daughter who was also a nurse tried to soothe her, answered her questions, trying to assure her that she was not alone.

Her nurse was nearly beside herself trying to control the symptoms of loud and what seemed excessive moaning. Every respiration brought great angst, crying out, fear and anxiety. The medications were coming as fast as they could. The ativan for anxiety, the haldol for the agitation that death so frequently brings, the morphine to ease the stress of trying to breathe and the pain that she had been having for some days. But even the medications need time to soak in, to bring the relief.

Her nurse and I talked about it. What was it that brought this on so suddenly? She had come in only an hour ago, and although in bad shape did not have such discomfort. She was talking coherently, she was quite alert. Distress was not significant just an hour ago.

The mystery lies in her breathing. I sat with her holding her hand, her daughter on the other side. She would take one breath after another, each with a labored draw, each draw stronger than the breath before it. Finally on the 6 th or 7th breath she would be screaming with each inhalation. Her eyes rose up, searching for something. When the yelling seemed it could get no louder it would stop. Her breathing would stop. She would not breathe for a count of 15. Then the breathing would start again. In the first few breaths she would ask for family members, ask where she was, and ask what was happening. This cycle repeated over and over. It was an unusual picture, one in that all the deaths I had attended I had not seen before. Everyone was saying what is going on with her, Why this incredible angst? This breathing?

Suddenly it was so clear to me. She was now actively dying and exhibiting an unusual pattern of Cheyne stokes breathing. The by far and away most unusual presentation was her consciousness. She was fully awake.

I had never seen anyone at this level of imminent progress into death, Cheyne stoking, with heart racing, oxygen saturations dropping, who was so clearly awake, and clearly in a state of terror from it.

What to do?

How to ease this suffering?

Would the medicines ever bring her to a calm place to make this transition?
The Cheyne stoking was like a wave of energy moving through her, coming and going in cycles. I had never seen it before in an awake and conscious hospice patient. IT WAS JUST LIKE THE WAVES ENERGETICALLY FOUND IN CONTRACTIONS OF BIRTHING, following a similar rhythm and pace.

A rise in uncontrollable, involuntary movement of great force, the respirations, followed by a period of calm, the apnea, mirror reflected the cycles of birthing contractions and rest.

Having worked as a midwife many years ago, once I understood, I shifted; it seemed almost automatically, to pace with her with creative visualization. I started to assist her with words to ride the wave of respirations, to let go of fear, to remember that rest was just coming, to talk her through it. She responded immediately. She started to calm. The yelling became less intense and after a few cycles of breathing the cycles of yelling with the breathing fully stopped.… and she was still fully awake and holding my hand tightly making eye contact and saying a few words and now seemed coherent for the next 15 minutes or so then suddenly she closed her eyes and slipped into unconsciousness.
So I go home today thinking of this death. This frightful experience.

I realized that in all the deaths I have stood by there is a profound automatic physiological process that transpires to promote the release of the soul from the body. It's involuntary and just like in birthing you realize the profound schism between your mind, your consciousness and the dictates of the flesh. And yet with the mind, you can ease the trauma, ease the fear, create a sense of unity again though directed visualization technique and through support from another human who dare to walk next to you, who dares to find a way to support and guide you.
I had never seen this level of the death process taken on consciously by anyone. ALL the others before were in a coma at this point in the separation process. In trying to understand what was going on with this patient, what her cause of angst was, I wasted time trying to sort out my perceptions to make an assessment I could act on.

Next time, if it should ever come my way, if another enters into the imminent dying process awake and alert, I will remember my midwifery skills and I will act quickly, with soothing words, guided imagery, maintaining supportive contact until they can rest, until they can find their way to separate off enough to allow the body to complete its work without fear.

My coworker said it so clearly, midwives pull them in, hospices nurses, we ship them out.

I now see the rhythmic breathing of Cheyne stokes for what it is. A natural spontaneous force available to fuel the unthinkable, to propel us in into the next world.

[Swan]

Dear Arrowwind,

Thank you for this story. I was thinking about the birthing process this afternoon ( a couple of hours ago ).

For me, it felt like dying. The realization that no way in hell was "I" going to get myself through it. That I just had to surrender to the process. Surrender -even though "I" didn´t know the outcome.

I was lucky the first time to have a fantastic midwife. And so finally, after 4 days, I found the courage to let go.

You sound like just the companion one needs, while birthing, or dying.

[Arrowwind]

Mitzvah, I find myself wanting to apologize for the cruelty. Emotional cruelty towards another makes me see rage-red. In that moment, reptilian instincts emerge while Higher Self pokes at my shoulder.

.

The wonderful thing is that we can apoligize for an ill act of another and it can have profound meaning to the damaged person and it can start or further promote the healing process and this is why we must never allow our reptilian lower selves take power for it can only make a bad situation worse.

[RunningDeer]

Your quote is taken out of context, which paints it different from what's intended by me. This is one of the reasons why I find myself posting less and less. Too much time and energy to undo what was not there in the first place.


...we must never allow our reptilian lower selves take power for it can only make a bad situation worse.

I agree. We are saying the same thing only using different vocabulary. When I state, "..Higher Self pokes at my shoulder," that's where I live.




Mitzvah, I find myself wanting to apologize for the cruelty. Emotional cruelty towards another makes me see rage-red. In that moment, reptilian instincts emerge while Higher Self pokes at my shoulder.

.

The wonderful thing is that we can apoligize for an ill act of another and it can have profound meaning to the damaged person and it can start or further promote the healing process and this is why we must never allow our reptilian lower selves take power for it can only make a bad situation worse.

[Mitzvah]

When I was ten years old, arthritis presented in my life and has remained a part of my journey ever since. Not long after I became ill, my father, who worked for the state of California in the field of agriculture, was out on the road surveying orchards in Butte County. He had stopped by a river (the Feather River) to eat his lunch and he settled down under a tree with a heavy heart. He carried the heartbreaking burden of a father who had to watch his dear child endure endless pain and a relentless destruction of the body through joint deteriorization. He felt helpless in a way that can only truly be understood if one has had or has a child who has a catastrophic illness.

As he was trying to make sense out of a completely senseless act, (or so it seemed to my dear father) a stranger appeared quietly, apparently out of the blue. Father could see the road for a long way, clearly in both directions, and yet he saw no car anywhere, and he hadn't heard the approach of any vehicle.
The stranger asked if he might sit with him a spell. Being always kind to anyone and always ready to strike up a new friendship, my father offered him his company and his time.

The man began to speak tenderly to Father, saying, “I know your heart is heavy, and I know that you're worried about your daughter, aren’t you?”
My father said that he felt a complete sense of being able to speak freely, actually wanting to talk with this stranger, to open up and to share his great sadness and constant worries about the current situation concerning my health. So he said to the man, “Yes. My daughter is ill, and I do feel helpless, unable to offer anything of any substantiality to relieve her suffering. She is my treasure, my sunshine and my heart is breaking for her. I feel as if I am drowning under the worry, and failing in that I am unable to save her from this painful experience.”

The man looked calmly and steadily into my father’s eyes and said to him, “Have no fear about your dear child. She will be fine, and happy in her life. She is Loved more than you can fathom right now. Your daughter will never be truly harmed, and she will never lose her joyous spirit as this disease in her precious body does what it will do. Your love and compassion for her is the greatest service you could ever offer her.”

Father could say nothing. He could only sit there silently, quietly being embraced by some Incomprehensible Love and Peacefulness that was apparently coming from this stranger and into him. He felt as if he knew the man but could not recall where or when they may have met before. He could only sit there beside him with tears of some strange relief streaming down his face. The man stood up to depart and as he did so he put his hand on my father’s shoulder, saying soothingly to him, “Have no fear and entertain no worries about Mazie. She will always be taken care of. She will always be safe in the Love you share with her.”

And then as mysteriously as he had appeared, the strange and compellingly attractive man walked off, disappearing around the bend in the river. All around my father there was a hushed and silent reverence emitting from everything, from everywhere. Then my father realized this thing about the experience:

“I didn’t tell that man my daughter’s name, and yet he said it as he was leaving. Hmmm. Perhaps I spoke it aloud to him, and have just forgotten in my amazement, and in this strange and calm mood I seem to have fallen into.”

This story was related to us that evening when we were all gathered around the dinner table. We were all held in rapt attention as my father shared it with us, but none were more captivated and intrigued than I was. Life went on and the disease progressed, as diseases will do, and we all went about our lives as people will do. But I never forgot the words that the stranger had so kindly offered to my father concerning me, “Have no fear about your dear child. She will be well. She is Loved …”

Twenty years later as I was sharing with my father about the life of my Guru, Paramahansa Yogananda, and the lives of my guru's guru, and his guru, too, I opened a book and showed my father the pictures of these great beings. As his eyes fell upon the picture of Lahiri Mahasaya he exclaimed excitedly,
“That’s him! That’s the stranger who came and comforted me by the river when you were only ten years old! Who is he and how can I find him?" You see, my father knew virtually nothing of my spiritual life and had no idea if these men were dead or alive. I said to my father,
“That’s Lahiri Mahasaya and he passed on in the late eighteen hundreds.”

My father and I sat speechless and stunned at this revelation before us now.
My Dear father, unable to comprehend the enormity of this thing that we were having unfold to us, never said another word about it again. My father died the next year and the evening he fell and went into a coma from which he never recovered consciousness, I dreamed of a man who came to my flower garden and cut off the topmost, most beautiful orange rose from the only tree-rose in the garden.

The man in that dream was none other than Lahiri Mahasaya, come again to tell me, to comfort me with the same offering of Love and Peace,
“Have no fear about your Dear father. He will be well cared for. He is Loved ...”

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lahiri_Mahasaya

[another bob]

Thank you so much, Arrowwind, for reviving this thread so graciously, and Thank you, Mitzvah, for this beautiful story of the miraculous Grace that has been woven into your dear life! Wonderful heart! I have felt very close to Lahiri, particularly since he was a householder, worked in the world, and yet manifested the highest of Divine realizations. The fact that he is one of your protectors is deeply comforting to me!

Blessings!

[another bob]

It is dusty and kiln-dried, mid-way along the crooked spine of the Atlas Mountain Range. Humps of browned and barren hills spread stuporous in relentless heat. Not a breeze is stirring. It’s 1979, and I have been trekking through Northern Africa for several weeks now.

In the middle of the road I've wandered down, seven young Berber boys stand in my way, their beseeching hands reaching out to me, their eyes imploring me for something, anything.

Above them, lifted on the thermal currents, large black carrion birds lazily circle over the baking yurts these children's families call home.

They are nomads like myself, roaming through this arid land, with their shaggy goats and worn blankets, and now their hopeful eyes impale me.

I can almost see behind those eyes, and what I see caves in my heart.

What is seen is the one who sees, and the one who sees is the one I am. This is why I start to weep, and why it feels as if I’ll never stop.

They watch me, they weep with me, the hills are weeping, and yet – it is so quiet, so very still.

Not a noise is heard, except for the sound my tears make as they splash the hard clay at my feet – the earth that I am – and are swallowed up in the mystery I've emerged from, the very place my path is leading me, even now.

There are some mangy little mutt dogs by the roadside, their tongues drooping from listless jaws, panting, panting, and the flies . . .

The omnipresent flies are thick amidst wafting aromas of cracked wheat from the threshing circle in the near distance where a woman and her donkey crush grain, just as they have always done. They circle round and round, as if on an eternal wheel, the wheel of life . . .

There is something . . . familiar in all of this.

Somehow, within that circle, I sense that all I will ever need to understand is just about to reveal itself.

After some time, I realize that it hasn't, that it never will, and so I move on.

There is nothing to understand.

Just live.

[Jenci]

I had somehow been lifted out of the accident and into an infinite dark. This ebony silence was deeper than I had ever known and certainly beyond my feeble adjectives, and yet curiously "familiar", as if it had always been here, just behind the chitchat of everyday mind and presumed identity.



Alone, yet with no sense of lack or feeling of incompleteness -- nothing to be desired or avoided, accepted or rejected. A self-illuminating consciousness without object. Awareness -- boundless and inexpressible, vastness with no center, motionless, serenity with no opposite, and thus not even serenity – such words and phrases don't even touch it -- and it went on forever, yet without even any sense of time. The timeless limitless Void, but not with any quality of lack or vacantness one might associate with that concept. In fact, there are no associations or qualities that could be applied, while immersed in that suchness.

Nor was there any sense of blissfulness about it, though that would come later

Thank you Bob for posting the story. I've never had a NDE but there is so much here that I relate to with your description of what you experienced with that silence, the void.


Jeanette

[another bob]

I had somehow been lifted out of the accident and into an infinite dark. This ebony silence was deeper than I had ever known and certainly beyond my feeble adjectives, and yet curiously "familiar", as if it had always been here, just behind the chitchat of everyday mind and presumed identity.



Alone, yet with no sense of lack or feeling of incompleteness -- nothing to be desired or avoided, accepted or rejected. A self-illuminating consciousness without object. Awareness -- boundless and inexpressible, vastness with no center, motionless, serenity with no opposite, and thus not even serenity – such words and phrases don't even touch it -- and it went on forever, yet without even any sense of time. The timeless limitless Void, but not with any quality of lack or vacantness one might associate with that concept. In fact, there are no associations or qualities that could be applied, while immersed in that suchness.

Nor was there any sense of blissfulness about it, though that would come later

Thank you Bob for posting the story. I've never had a NDE but there is so much here that I relate to with your description of what you experienced with that silence, the void.


Jeanette

Thanks, Sister!

It seems that there is such a wide divergence in folks' descriptions of such experiences because each tends to carry over their pre-conceived notions. Thus, a Christian may have a Christ experience, whereas an atheist may have an experience of impersonal Light, and a guilt-ridden person may have one of hellish realms. This tells us something interesting about the power of thought-energy.
For me, I seemed to skip meeting up with relatives or spiritual archetypes and so forth, and ended up directly in the Void (although to call it that is really so inadequate, but for purposes of relating to an existing principle familiar to some, I use that term). Moreover, there wasn't any "Light" per se, although I somehow knew that what people call "The Light" emerges from that vastness, in the same way Sound emerges from our mouth. I also realized after some years of contemplation that it is the ever-present background of consciousness, like the screen on which the movie of consciousness plays out. Hence, it is prior to consciousness, and thus I take it to be our fundamental Basis, Aware Space.

Blessings!

[Arrowwind]

It seems that there is such a wide divergence in folks' descriptions of such experiences because each tends to carry over their pre-conceived notions. Thus, a Christian may have a Christ experience, whereas an atheist may have an experience of impersonal Light, and a guilt-ridden person may have one of hellish realms. This tells us something interesting about the power of thought-energy.
For me, I seemed to skip meeting up with relatives or spiritual archetypes and so forth, and ended up directly in the Void (although to call it that is really so inadequate, but for purposes of relating to an existing principle familiar to some, I use that term). Moreover, there wasn't any "Light" per se, although I somehow knew that what people call "The Light" emerges from that vastness, in the same way Sound emerges from our mouth. I also realized after some years of contemplation that it is the ever-present background of consciousness, like the screen on which the movie of consciousness plays out. Hence, it is prior to consciousness, and thus I take it to be our fundamental Basis, Aware Space.
Blessings!

I woke to last night in the middle of the dark wondering about this. Wondering. If we create our reality, if we are true creators, then we create what we experience here on this earth as well as what we experience after death.

If we hold a religious persuasion or spiritual persuasion then we will experience something akin to that line of belief. But if we hold no belief, if we have no sacred dream for the hereafter are we but to be cast into the void? Will our consciousness cease to exist because we have no sacred dream?
Is the void the place I want to be?

In Buddhism when one dies the Book of the Dead is read for the departed soul and many prayers said over a specified time frame to help propel the soul through the "bardos" which seems to be all those various dreams of potential reality that spring into existence according to the dream that the departed soul ventures to explore, calls in or merely holds some ancient thought form of. The goal is to get beyond the dream and enter into some deeper reality.

What must we believe to avoid the arduous journey? It seems to me that no one will be praying for my soul upon my departure to help me navigate the ever creative void of my illusions.

If there were one thought form to hold to guide us what would it be?

Would it be a mantra?
A saint’s name?
The memory of what love is?
The image of Christ?
Or should we just let go into free flow?

The older I get the more I separate myself from dreams of saints, enlightened ones, Christ figures and all the stories that have pervaded our culture... so that I can know myself instead of knowing some dream of a manufactured "them"

So I awoke and rose to my computer, to Blank Canvas to read Mitzvah's story of her father's visitation.. visited by the same beings I once believed in as I went through my Yogananda journey in what now seems like another life time. And I wondered. What of all of them? Would they still be there to greet me upon my passing? Would I still be loved even though I don’t follow anymore? Or are they merely evaporated wisps’ of dreams I once held... that may or may not come to torture me for a time as I work my way through the bardos?

I sometimes wonder if this is a good direction... to be so alone. To be so independent... to be so confident in my own creation that I no longer call upon another’s.

Just wondering tonight.

[another bob]

I woke to last night in the middle of the dark wondering about this. Wondering. If we create our reality, if we are true creators, then we create what we experience here on this earth as well as what we experience after death.

Ah, well, sorry to trouble your sleep! LOL

So, I would offer that you are already starting out with a faulty premise, and that is that there is some person ("me") that is doing all this creating. However, with some sincere inspection, it becomes apparent that there is no such thing as this character, but only a dependently originating bundle of thoughts and memories, cobbled together by the movement of desire and fear, that seem to constitute a person. It is purely a figment of the imagination. In reality, there is no such person, and so all the subsequent imputations based on the assumption of separate individualized and enduring personhood (such as some creature who wanders through bardos and sees saints and demons, etc) are false.



If we hold a religious persuasion or spiritual persuasion then we will experience something akin to that line of belief. But if we hold no belief, if we have no sacred dream for the hereafter are we but to be cast into the void? Will our consciousness cease to exist because we have no sacred dream?
Is the void the place I want to be?


This is the trouble with trying to discuss something which is utterly above and beyond the human pay grade, so to speak. Unless one has experienced, then it is probably even counter-productive to even try, since it would only end up adding more concepts that in turn need to be discarded to get to the Real. Regardless, the "void" is not a place, but what we are. We are not cast into it, it's more like, when we remove or discard all the bs we assume ourselves to be, we find that the Void is home to all; the Source of all creation, itself unsourced; dark itself, but the source of all light; silent, but the source of all sound.

This awake awareness has no perceivable qualities whatsoever – not even divine ones. Sometimes this open spacious awareness is called Emptiness, yet it is even empty of any qualities of emptiness, silence, bliss, or light. Here there is no self or Self, which are both immediately recognizable as fantasies of interpretation on perception. It is not even a state of consciousness, and yet it does not cancel that of which it is prior. Discursive mind cannot go there, because it is before that stage of attention.

Formless consciousness, separate self-consciousness, unity consciousness are all arising within This, are all birthed within this timeless aware space. They are actually illuminated, and thus become "liberated" from fixated identification within This, to the point of relinquishing the struggle to support any fixation at any level of consciousness.

Since everything arises within this aware spaciousness, there is nothing that needs to be eliminated. The only "problem" that ever arose was the contracting fixation on any level. From this angle of vision, all states are gathered in one vast embrace of unspeakable, undeniable Love, and are realized to co-exist simultaneously, non-exclusively, interdependently.

When this is truly and deeply Seen, and all stifling fixation has been gracefully exceeded by Reality, the recognition dawns that this awareness, which one IS, does not need to hide in egoic consciousness, in formless consciousness, in unity consciousness, in peace or bliss - it loves them all by granting them the power to exist. It functions through them all. They all can dance in the sunshine and clarity of unbounded awareness!





What must we believe to avoid the arduous journey?

It's more like, what must we not believe, and the answer to that would be: "All of it."
Any belief, no matter how profound or holy, will simply be adding legs to a snake, so to speak.




If there were one thought form to hold to guide us what would it be?

Thinking the thought of thoughtless-ness.



So I awoke and rose to my computer, to Blank Canvas to read Mitzvah's story of her father's visitation.. visited by the same beings I once believed in as I went through my Yogananda journey in what now seems like another life time. And I wondered. What of all of them? Would they still be there to greet me upon my passing? Would I still be loved even though I don’t follow anymore?

If for some reason you need them to be there, they will be.



Just wondering tonight.

Wonder is the dawn of wisdom!


Blessings!

[Mitzvah]

Arrowwind wrote: "So I awoke and rose to my computer, to Blank Canvas to read Mitzvah's story of her father's visitation.. visited by the same beings I once believed in as I went through my Yogananda journey in what now seems like another life time. And I wondered. What of all of them? Would they still be there to greet me upon my passing? Would I still be loved even though I don’t follow anymore? Or are they merely evaporated wisps’ of dreams I once held... that may or may not come to torture me for a time as I work my way through the bardos?

I sometimes wonder if this is a good direction... to be so alone. To be so independent... to be so confident in my own creation that I no longer call upon another’s.

Just wondering tonight."

It seems like an other lifetime for me, too, Arrowwind, that I was a disciple of Yoganandaji and followed the SRF teachings so fiercely. After I was introduced to Nisargadatta and had really begun questioning some of the ideas that were being expounded through Yogananda's organization, I knew that I would have to break away and follow my own path, a path that's an amagalmation of everything I've ever studied and through everyone I've ever met. I had many nights of questions which left me unsettled and unsure of the very things that you have just shared. Would I be greeted after I passed over? Would I be fine even though I had broken the guru-disciple pact and had left the organization? All these things plagued me off and on through the years ... and then I met Bob. Through his Loving guidance and impeccable explanations in understanding advaita and nonduality, all those fears fell away and I was left a more confidant, fearless, and forthright person. Regardless of whatever path I follow, the Love between myself and Yoganandaji is unconditional. He and all those beautiful Beings will be there forever Loving us, and will always know whenever we would call upon them.

I applaud your individuality and the noble loner's path. You know in your heart what is right for you on this incredibly marvelous journey. Perhaps not at first, but it always comes clear eventually.

[DeDukshyn]

I woke to last night in the middle of the dark wondering about this. Wondering. If we create our reality, if we are true creators, then we create what we experience here on this earth as well as what we experience after death.

Ah, well, sorry to trouble your sleep! LOL

So, I would offer that you are already starting out with a faulty premise, and that is that there is some person ("me") that is doing all this creating. However, with some sincere inspection, it becomes apparent that there is no such thing as this character, but only a dependently originating bundle of thoughts and memories, cobbled together by the movement of desire and fear, that seem to constitute a person. It is purely a figment of the imagination. In reality, there is no such person, and so all the subsequent imputations based on the assumption of separate individualized and enduring personhood (such as some creature who wanders through bardos and sees saints and demons, etc) are false.



If we hold a religious persuasion or spiritual persuasion then we will experience something akin to that line of belief. But if we hold no belief, if we have no sacred dream for the hereafter are we but to be cast into the void? Will our consciousness cease to exist because we have no sacred dream?
Is the void the place I want to be?


This is the trouble with trying to discuss something which is utterly above and beyond the human pay grade, so to speak. Unless one has experienced, then it is probably even counter-productive to even try, since it would only end up adding more concepts that in turn need to be discarded to get to the Real. Regardless, the "void" is not a place, but what we are. We are not cast into it, it's more like, when we remove or discard all the bs we assume ourselves to be, we find that the Void is home to all; the Source of all creation, itself unsourced; dark itself, but the source of all light; silent, but the source of all sound.

This awake awareness has no perceivable qualities whatsoever – not even divine ones. Sometimes this open spacious awareness is called Emptiness, yet it is even empty of any qualities of emptiness, silence, bliss, or light. Here there is no self or Self, which are both immediately recognizable as fantasies of interpretation on perception. It is not even a state of consciousness, and yet it does not cancel that of which it is prior. Discursive mind cannot go there, because it is before that stage of attention.

Formless consciousness, separate self-consciousness, unity consciousness are all arising within This, are all birthed within this timeless aware space. They are actually illuminated, and thus become "liberated" from fixated identification within This, to the point of relinquishing the struggle to support any fixation at any level of consciousness.

Since everything arises within this aware spaciousness, there is nothing that needs to be eliminated. The only "problem" that ever arose was the contracting fixation on any level. From this angle of vision, all states are gathered in one vast embrace of unspeakable, undeniable Love, and are realized to co-exist simultaneously, non-exclusively, interdependently.

When this is truly and deeply Seen, and all stifling fixation has been gracefully exceeded by Reality, the recognition dawns that this awareness, which one IS, does not need to hide in egoic consciousness, in formless consciousness, in unity consciousness, in peace or bliss - it loves them all by granting them the power to exist. It functions through them all. They all can dance in the sunshine and clarity of unbounded awareness!





What must we believe to avoid the arduous journey?

It's more like, what must we not believe, and the answer to that would be: "All of it."
Any belief, no matter how profound or holy, will simply be adding legs to a snake, so to speak.




If there were one thought form to hold to guide us what would it be?

Thinking the thought of thoughtless-ness.



So I awoke and rose to my computer, to Blank Canvas to read Mitzvah's story of her father's visitation.. visited by the same beings I once believed in as I went through my Yogananda journey in what now seems like another life time. And I wondered. What of all of them? Would they still be there to greet me upon my passing? Would I still be loved even though I don’t follow anymore?

If for some reason you need them to be there, they will be.



Just wondering tonight.

Wonder is the dawn of wisdom!


Blessings!

A bit "technical" but well said,

They way I like to think of it is this (while still on the non-source side of the veil of course): If you could live inside your dream realm, what would you choose to believe in? It wouldn't matter at all, would it? It's about what you wish to allow, or as Bob rightly said, "What you wish to not believe in", more than following a belief.

That is the paradox -- everyone is looking for the "right" thing to believe in, the "right" answer -- when it is this action of searching alone that is causing the blindness via not seeing the forest for the trees. You have no need to search if you have not restricted your self (your "view") - relieving yourself of those restrictions is the answer, finding the "right" restriction is not the answer. Ha! finding the right "truth" seems so silly now ;) My 2 cents.

[Arrowwind]

My path is the Shamans path. In that I do not accept that there is the void or that I am the void. And that is my core belief. As a creator god on an evolutionary path I create myself and my total experience. Therefor I do exist and always will and likely multidimensionally.. call it ego if you like. Ego is not the dirty word it has been made out to be. But the void is impossible to any and to all who are creators and is merely a dream of escape to a new place that still has many mirrors for one cannot escape their beingness. There is no non-source side of the veil in my book of experience.

[Arrowwind]

This is what I filled a blank canvas with the other day. I dont know it if will come out very well here, and my photograph didnt do credit to the pastel painting. I need to learn more about my camera. This is a scene from most anywhere in my part of the world.

[NancyV]

My path is the Shamans path. In that I do not accept that there is the void or that I am the void. And that is my core belief. As a creator god on an evolutionary path I create myself and my total experience. Therefor I do exist and always will and likely multidimensionally.. call it ego if you like. Ego is not the dirty word it has been made out to be. But the void is impossible to any and to all who are creators and is merely a dream of escape to a new place that still has many mirrors for one cannot escape their beingness. There is no non-source side of the veil in my book of experience.
I call the void SOURCE and have had many experiences of becoming the Source. It is as Bob says it is, within the limitations of words. It is not empty or devoid of life or energy. It is full and empty, the ALL and NONE, the everything and nothing. No matter what beliefs I may have had before becoming one with the void or source, all beliefs are gone at LEAST by that point and usually long before. Even with beliefs one could say I believe nothing and everything, because any illusion may be created with beliefs.

As far as ego goes, I love my ego! In my experience my ego gets larger and larger until there is nothing else, only the I AM which encompasses everything. Others may describe it as letting go of ego, but it's all just words that mean to say the same thing. There is nothing and no one that is NOT source, it is only a diminished perspective and awareness that makes us think we are separate. We are never separated. When my awareness is merged completely with source there is no awareness of a human or astral life separated from source.

So the shaman's path is just another game and a fun game it is. We enjoy playing in many dimensions with many "other" beings or we wouldn't be doing it. We even like getting scared so we get to have a lot of "bad guys" to play with. Since there is no "other" we are playing with ourselves. Any game we choose at any "time" is the right one for us and if our beliefs seem right to us... then they are right for that limited perspective.

[Jenci]

My path is the Shamans path. In that I do not accept that there is the void or that I am the void. And that is my core belief. As a creator god on an evolutionary path I create myself and my total experience. Therefor I do exist and always will and likely multidimensionally.. call it ego if you like. Ego is not the dirty word it has been made out to be. But the void is impossible to any and to all who are creators and is merely a dream of escape to a new place that still has many mirrors for one cannot escape their beingness. There is no non-source side of the veil in my book of experience.


The void has nothing to do with beliefs. I didn't get any choice in the matter of whether to believe or not believe in the void. In fact I had never even heard of the void before it had actually happened to me where I had a direct experience of it. In that experience all beliefs disappear.....or it could be said that when all beliefs are gone, then it is possible to experience our true nature, the void, as it actually is.


Absolutely nothing.....out of which everything arises. It's the ultimate blank canvas :)


Jeanette

[Sebastion]

Awesome post Jenci! I am however at a loss to understand why the Void is impossible and is merely a dream to escape....that in itself boggles my mind. I have found the Void in the way anotherbob, Nancy and Jenci have described it to be and more beyond what has already been stated.




My path is the Shamans path. In that I do not accept that there is the void or that I am the void. And that is my core belief. As a creator god on an evolutionary path I create myself and my total experience. Therefor I do exist and always will and likely multidimensionally.. call it ego if you like. Ego is not the dirty word it has been made out to be. But the void is impossible to any and to all who are creators and is merely a dream of escape to a new place that still has many mirrors for one cannot escape their beingness. There is no non-source side of the veil in my book of experience.


The void has nothing to do with beliefs. I didn't get any choice in the matter of whether to believe or not believe in the void. In fact I had never even heard of the void before it had actually happened to me where I had a direct experience of it. In that experience all beliefs disappear.....or it could be said that when all beliefs are gone, then it is possible to experience our true nature, the void, as it actually is.


Absolutely nothing.....out of which everything arises. It's the ultimate blank canvas :)


Jeanette

[DeDukshyn]

My path is the Shamans path. In that I do not accept that there is the void or that I am the void. And that is my core belief. As a creator god on an evolutionary path I create myself and my total experience. Therefor I do exist and always will and likely multidimensionally.. call it ego if you like. Ego is not the dirty word it has been made out to be. But the void is impossible to any and to all who are creators and is merely a dream of escape to a new place that still has many mirrors for one cannot escape their beingness. There is no non-source side of the veil in my book of experience.

Is there a veil? Does any of us humans have the full view? no, then that restriction is the veil I am referring to. I have a strong feeling semantics are getting in the way again. ;) The non-Source side of the "veil" is a mere representation that a view is restricted from one side (although this may be seen as somewhat a psychological effect - the "veil" is within us in a sense), and with the perspective being viewed from one particular side -- that is all I was referring to. It was a conceptual description from a certain perspective as opposed to any other perspective.

I fear in my quest to bring clarity, I have brought mud ... ;)

As you were! ;)

[another bob]

Hiya Arrowwind!

As I mentioned in the post to which you replied, unless one has experienced, then it is probably even counter-productive to discuss the "Void", since it would only end up adding more concepts that in turn need to be discarded to get to the Real.

In fact, all the fixed identity that one might invest in provisional beliefs, such as being a "Shaman", a "creator", a "Buddhist", a man or woman, a human being, and so forth, may serve one to some extent along the way, and perhaps are even necessary at particular stages of the journey for many.

I have no argument with any mask folks might choose to wear, or any name they might adopt. The Lord has a trillion trillion faces. All of them are true, and none of them are true. This paradox will never be understood by discursive mind.

In any case, the main problem with our transitory self-images is that they require a lot of care and feeding, and often a lot of defense, especially when they are challenged by Reality itself. Then they need to be re-confirmed, and a lot of futile struggle ensues. I say futile, because it is a losing battle. All beliefs are impermanent. Only awareness remains, when all beliefs have gone the way of the wind.

I also know directly that, as our view evolves, all such temporary facades eventually must and will be seen through and rendered obsolete by deeper experience, especially when inspected via true inquiry to the point of gnosis.

Blessings!

[lookbeyond]

Hello,one of the reasons i wanted to join Avalon was to share others perspectives in a search for Truth. We have all had our varying experiences which answer questions for us personally and may also give rise to further questions. It seems to me we are all searching for a "common denominator" to reach a baseline for truth, in the end maybe we will just have to wait and see?

Kind Reguards lookbeyond


addit: i am reassured there is love on/from the other side of the veil having experienced it personally, and this removes any fear for me, lookbeyond

[Arrowwind]

It is my opinion that the void is just another place...
if you dont see it as such it gains too much attraction and power.
It is just another place
that is seems some of you now long for after experiencing.
But it just another place
We move in and out of it between lives
or mediations
or other types of travel
its a waste of energy to long for it in this life
you wll all get there eventually
and leave it again
and you are there right now
for it is just another place
no matter how amazing it feels
that feeling that it gives you
is also an illusion and if you
didnt have this current reincarnational body and personality
you would perceive it totally different
for it is all filtered though your current maya
even when you are there
just look at the words you use to describe it.
Its just another place.
and in defining the void you once again create separation for yourself
and in seeking the void again separation
and in experiencing the void once again separation
for you see the void as over there
a place to get to
or a place to be where no beliefs reside
or a place as the source of creation
or a place of power
but It is just another place
that you have either been searching for or
or just fell into .
a place you went
and a place you left, at least in your perception
for now you are outside of the void and separate again

for you all say "when I was in the void"
meaning that you are not there now
but that is the illusion!
and as someone said there are a thousand faces to god
which one is real?
which one of them is the void?
All of them.

[another bob]

The biblical character Jesus was reported to have said, "The kingdom of heaven is within you." Thus, he immediately refuted the notion of a separate God.

Now, given the way things go on this lovely rock, a number of folks came along later, professing nominal resonance with Jesus Christ -- even calling themselves "Christians" -- who nevertheless persisted in clinging to the infantile model of a parent deity.

Such attitudes are not unusual in this realm, even today. Folks across the spectrum often behave like emotional infants in their relationship to life, regardless of their chronological age. Conversely, in some fundamentalist theistic religions, claiming the thrilling recognition "I am God" has gotten people put to death . . . yikes!

I remember trying to find a place to sleep in some town between Bali and Yogyakarta one night in the summer of '81, and apparently my efforts coincided with a Moslem Holy Moment. Thousands of very excited people were running through the streets with torches, not unlike a scene from the original Frankenstein movie, chanting some kind of repetitive slogan.

I inquired of my guide about the lingo, and he said, "They're shouting ‘There is only God!’" The ecstatic enthusiasm they exhibited for such a pertinent and succinct observation seemed quite remarkable to me, as did the hostel we finally settled at, having been assured by the guide that it was "the last vacancy left in town", but that’s another story.

At any rate, he noted that westerners should be indoors during this time.

"Why" I asked, if there is only God?"

He replied, "It's not the same God."

[DeDukshyn]

"...just another place"

consider .. "All places at once"? "All happenings at once"?

Without the force of separation everything is all locations and mass / matter / ether, and, all time at once, or reversely - the force of separation upon the "image" of Source creates the illusion we call reality. Since this effect of the force of separation only acts on the "image" or echo (tone) of God (Source), Source remains intact - this is that "void" -- that potential where all Creation springs from from.

At least this is how I see it - I know little of Buddhism or the points of views often that others come from, but this is how I came to learn it "on my own" so to speak, the best I could. Of course it is still metaphor and subject to revisions ;)

Maybe more mud? lol, I hope not ;)

[sleepy]

I was very happy to find this thread still going. I find the current discussion very interesting. I think you are all saying the same thing but with different words. In my opinion God, the void, all that connects us, is love. I really think it is just that simple. I could be wrong. The more I know…the less I know.

[NancyV]

"...just another place"

consider .. "All places at once"? "All happenings at once"?

Without the force of separation everything is all locations and mass / matter / ether, and, all time at once, or reversely - the force of separation upon the "image" of Source creates the illusion we call reality. Since this effect of the force of separation only acts on the "image" or echo (tone) of God (Source), Source remains intact - this is that "void" -- that potential where all Creation springs from from.

At least this is how I see it - I know little of Buddhism or the points of views often that others come from, but this is how I came to learn it "on my own" so to speak, the best I could. Of course it is still metaphor and subject to revisions ;)

Maybe more mud? lol, I hope not ;)
Perfectly clear and very well said! LOL


Sleepy: I was very happy to find this thread still going. I find the current discussion very interesting. I think you are all saying the same thing but with different words. In my opinion God, the void, all that connects us, is love. I really think it is just that simple. I could be wrong. The more I know…the less I know.

Yes, we are all saying the same thing and everything is part of the Love. The Void/Source is Love.

[Sebastion]

Very well said. The Void can be viewed from either perspective. As a "place" from a human perspective or as "being" all things and no-thing. It's pretty awesome from either one.





"...just another place"

consider .. "All places at once"? "All happenings at once"?

Without the force of separation everything is all locations and mass / matter / ether, and, all time at once, or reversely - the force of separation upon the "image" of Source creates the illusion we call reality. Since this effect of the force of separation only acts on the "image" or echo (tone) of God (Source), Source remains intact - this is that "void" -- that potential where all Creation springs from from.

At least this is how I see it - I know little of Buddhism or the points of views often that others come from, but this is how I came to learn it "on my own" so to speak, the best I could. Of course it is still metaphor and subject to revisions ;)

Maybe more mud? lol, I hope not ;)
Perfectly clear and very well said! LOL


Sleepy: I was very happy to find this thread still going. I find the current discussion very interesting. I think you are all saying the same thing but with different words. In my opinion God, the void, all that connects us, is love. I really think it is just that simple. I could be wrong. The more I know…the less I know.

Yes, we are all saying the same thing and everything is part of the Love. The Void/Source is Love.

[Jenci]

It is my opinion that the void is just another place...
if you dont see it as such it gains too much attraction and power.
It is just another place
that is seems some of you now long for after experiencing.
But it just another place
We move in and out of it between lives
or mediations
or other types of travel
its a waste of energy to long for it in this life
you wll all get there eventually
and leave it again
and you are there right now
for it is just another place
no matter how amazing it feels
that feeling that it gives you
is also an illusion and if you
didnt have this current reincarnational body and personality
you would perceive it totally different
for it is all filtered though your current maya
even when you are there
just look at the words you use to describe it.
Its just another place.
and in defining the void you once again create separation for yourself
and in seeking the void again separation
and in experiencing the void once again separation
for you see the void as over there
a place to get to
or a place to be where no beliefs reside
or a place as the source of creation
or a place of power
but It is just another place
that you have either been searching for or
or just fell into .
a place you went
and a place you left, at least in your perception
for now you are outside of the void and separate again

for you all say "when I was in the void"
meaning that you are not there now
but that is the illusion!
and as someone said there are a thousand faces to god
which one is real?
which one of them is the void?
All of them.



This thread has been remarkable in the sharing of personal experiences, some of them very extreme and unusual experiences but none of them have been challenged and yet I (and others) have shared the experience of the "void" and this is challenged.

It's an interesting development although I am not surprised by it. I don't talk about this experience to people in my real life world because it's not understood but I am grateful that I have been able to connect with people on this forum who know/understand/experience the same.

Jeanette

[sleepy]

People feel strongly about their spiritual beliefs. I think it is O.K. to disagree. I think peoples spiritual beliefs, religion, and politics are like a penis. It is fine if you are proud of it and it is even all right if you want to show it off but you can’t go around shoving it down everyone’s throat. :p

[Fred Steeves]

I think peoples spiritual beliefs, religion, and politics are like a penis. It is fine if you are proud of it and it is even all right if you want to show it off but you can’t go around shoving it down everyone’s throat. :p

It would seem then sleepy, that this gentleman has learned to walk the middle road.:rolleyes:

With a little help from his friends.(LOL)

[Jenci]

It would seem then sleepy, that this gentleman has learned to walk the middle road.:rolleyes:

With a little help from his friends.(LOL)


18724


Talking of experiences that reminds me......

No I had better not :dance:

[Chester]

The biblical character Jesus was reported to have said, "The kingdom of heaven is within you." Thus, he immediately refuted the notion of a separate God.

Now, given the way things go on this lovely rock, a number of folks came along later, professing nominal resonance with Jesus Christ -- even calling themselves "Christians" -- who nevertheless persisted in clinging to the infantile model of a parent deity.

Such attitudes are not unusual in this realm, even today. Folks across the spectrum often behave like emotional infants in their relationship to life, regardless of their chronological age. Conversely, in some fundamentalist theistic religions, claiming the thrilling recognition "I am God" has gotten people put to death . . . yikes!

I remember trying to find a place to sleep in some town between Bali and Yogyakarta one night in the summer of '81, and apparently my efforts coincided with a Moslem Holy Moment. Thousands of very excited people were running through the streets with torches, not unlike a scene from the original Frankenstein movie, chanting some kind of repetitive slogan.

I inquired of my guide about the lingo, and he said, "They're shouting ‘There is only God!’" The ecstatic enthusiasm they exhibited for such a pertinent and succinct observation seemed quite remarkable to me, as did the hostel we finally settled at, having been assured by the guide that it was "the last vacancy left in town", but that’s another story.

At any rate, he noted that westerners should be indoors during this time.

"Why" I asked, if there is only God?"

He replied, "It's not the same God."

"As within so without" - not sure if Jesus said this though... but I just did (well - I wrote it actually). Maybe it was from my "lowest Higher Self," maybe it was transmitted through one of my implants... I really don't know BUT, for me, this is absolutely true (at least today).

Enjoy the Day and Love to All - "chester"

[Fred Steeves]

It would seem then sleepy, that this gentleman has learned to walk the middle road.:rolleyes:

With a little help from his friends.(LOL)


18724


Talking of experiences that reminds me......

No I had better not :dance:

Come on Jenci, out with it...http://nexus.2012info.ca/forum/images/smilies/newadditions/smile.gif

[Sebastion]

I was wondering sleepy if you could/would expand on this post....as from what I can read some are sharing direct experiences, some are giving opinions. Vast difference between the two. I don't however see anyone really trying to shove something down anyone's throat. Perhaps you could point it out for me?



People feel strongly about their spiritual beliefs. I think it is O.K. to disagree. I think peoples spiritual beliefs, religion, and politics are like a penis. It is fine if you are proud of it and it is even all right if you want to show it off but you can’t go around shoving it down everyone’s throat. :p

[sleepy]

I was wondering sleepy if you could/would expand on this post....as from what I can read some are sharing direct experiences, some are giving opinions. Vast difference between the two. I don't however see anyone really trying to shove something down anyone's throat. Perhaps you could point it out for me?



People feel strongly about their spiritual beliefs. I think it is O.K. to disagree. I think peoples spiritual beliefs, religion, and politics are like a penis. It is fine if you are proud of it and it is even all right if you want to show it off but you can’t go around shoving it down everyone’s throat. :p

Sebastion,

I have enjoyed reading everyone's experiences and this was just a light hearted attempt at humor. It was not directed at anyone. It is a joke to lighten the mood as we travel down this path of differing beliefs.

[Sebastion]

okie dokie...:cool:



I was wondering sleepy if you could/would expand on this post....as from what I can read some are sharing direct experiences, some are giving opinions. Vast difference between the two. I don't however see anyone really trying to shove something down anyone's throat. Perhaps you could point it out for me?



People feel strongly about their spiritual beliefs. I think it is O.K. to disagree. I think peoples spiritual beliefs, religion, and politics are like a penis. It is fine if you are proud of it and it is even all right if you want to show it off but you can’t go around shoving it down everyone’s throat. :p

Sebastion,

I have enjoyed reading everyone's experiences and this was just a light hearted attempt at humor. It was not directed at anyone. It is a joke to lighten the mood as we travel down this path of differing beliefs.

[Chester]

Hiya Arrowwind!

As I mentioned in the post to which you replied, unless one has experienced, then it is probably even counter-productive to discuss the "Void", since it would only end up adding more concepts that in turn need to be discarded to get to the Real.

In fact, all the fixed identity that one might invest in provisional beliefs, such as being a "Shaman", a "creator", a "Buddhist", a man or woman, a human being, and so forth, may serve one to some extent along the way, and perhaps are even necessary at particular stages of the journey for many.

I have no argument with any mask folks might choose to wear, or any name they might adopt. The Lord has a trillion trillion faces. All of them are true, and none of them are true. This paradox will never be understood by discursive mind.

In any case, the main problem with our transitory self-images is that they require a lot of care and feeding, and often a lot of defense, especially when they are challenged by Reality itself. Then they need to be re-confirmed, and a lot of futile struggle ensues. I say futile, because it is a losing battle. All beliefs are impermanent. Only awareness remains, when all beliefs have gone the way of the wind.

I also know directly that, as our view evolves, all such temporary facades eventually must and will be seen through and rendered obsolete by deeper experience, especially when inspected via true inquiry to the point of gnosis.

Blessings!

That's why I am happy to be BOTH (and all in between)!

...a "quantum" experiencer and a "being" which in my current situation ties me into all as a "human being."

The coolest part is the space between quantum and being which is everything in between. I love it! Life... finally, wholly and completely embraced for what it is... even the illusion of it all. Sad that it has to end in 5 to 8 months (or at least become significantly disrupted) but hey, sometimes timing isn't fully in the hands of a single individual.

Still, cheers to all and enjoy the day(s). Chester

[ThePythonicCow]

Due to some confusions in my pre-coffee brain, I had removed some posts above and given a reason that made no sense. This resulted in a few more confused posts, as other members searched about for the source of the confusion ... and found it sitting behind my keyboard.

Fortunately, being an admin and all, I can unravel it all, restore the removed posts, and delete the confused posts, leaving just this little post behind. (Just keeping my canvas nearly blank :).)

I had closed this thread temporarily while cleaning up my mess. It is now open again for business.

[Chester]

Due to some confusions in my pre-coffee brain, I had removed some posts above and given a reason that made no sense. This resulted in a few more confused posts, as other members searched about for the source of the confusion ... and found it sitting behind my keyboard.

Fortunately, being an admin and all, I can unravel it all, restore the removed posts, and delete the confused posts, leaving just this little post behind. (Just keeping my canvas nearly blank :).)

I had closed this thread temporarily while cleaning up my mess. It is now open again for business.

Thanks, Paul :cool:... can we get back that fantastic image Fred had? I saw it briefly and rapidly called my agent so he could initiate a trademark infringement suit but now my evidence has disappeared! Anyways... thanks for the restoration. And, yes, I have also learned it is best not to take my first "actions" of the day without at least 2/3rds of a cup of that first cup of coffee ingested.
Love Ya, Chester

[Fred Steeves]

Due to some confusions in my pre-coffee brain, I had removed some posts above and given a reason that made no sense. This resulted in a few more confused posts, as other members searched about for the source of the confusion ... and found it sitting behind my keyboard.

Fortunately, being an admin and all, I can unravel it all, restore the removed posts, and delete the confused posts, leaving just this little post behind. (Just keeping my canvas nearly blank :).)

I had closed this thread temporarily while cleaning up my mess. It is now open again for business.

Well done Paul, showing true grace under pressure! http://nexus.2012info.ca/forum/images/smilies/newadditions/smile.gif Even the best amongst us are not immune to pulling the occassional boner.http://nexus.2012info.ca/forum/images/smilies/tape.gif

Dear god, did I really just say that???

[Fred Steeves]

Which reminds me. Maybe 10 years ago, my wife and I were at an event, The Renaissance Festival, where a group of old friends we hadn't seen in a couple of years were also hanging out. Having been wandering around for a couple of hours seeing the sights, and me partaking in the vast selection of fine European ales, we came across a young lady from that group who the last time we had seen her, she had been VERY pregnant. Upon seeing her, she appeared to once again be VERY pregnant. So, after exchanging pleasantries there was that awkward moment of silence that sometimes occurs. What does Fred, with a few ales in him, politely and caringly bring up while looking at her stomach area to break the silence?

"So, you've got another on on the way I see huh?" Well, she looks at me with this horrified, disgusted look and seethes: "I'M NOT PREGNANT!!!"

Can you say OOPS??? Try walking THAT one back...LOL.http://nexus.2012info.ca/forum/images/smilies/newadditions/unsure.gif

[Anchor]

Even the best amongst us are not immune to pulling the occassional boner.

You say this as if it is a bad thing ;)

[mosquito]

Time for me to share my suicide story.

January 1986, Sunday the 19th to be precise. I was in love, there was a girl I'd been attempting to woo for the previous 3 months. She liked me, but was hesitant about ditching her boyfriend and joining me. I'd decided not to give up, so had been sending her love letters galore, determined that she should know my feelings and that she should see the light ......

This particular evening I went to see her in the restaurant where she worked, I'd had my customary 2 bottles of wine and was saying good night to her. She told me that she really wasn't going to leave her boyfriend and that I shouldn't send her anymore letters or gifts. I was shattered, so I went home and decided I didn't want to live anymore. I downed an entire bottle of prescription medicine I'd been given that week (beta blockers, I think). There followed oblivion.

The next thing I knew, I was barely conscious and surrounded by concerned friends. They whisked me off to the doctor, who I remember told me I was lucky to still be alive, then I was hospitalised for 3 or 4 days. I'd like to say I had an NDE, but I really have no memory of anything happening at all. Anyway, the time in hospital and the weekend following, I went through some sort of change, becoming aware (after the initial disappointment about still being here) of having a purpose, being here for a reason, and a specific reason, without knowing what that reason was. I had a profound discussion with someone about spirituality (this at a time in my life where the most serious discussion only ever used to be about where to get drunk), and I knew that my life was changing somehow.

Shortly after that, I met the woman who would become my first wife, and who lanched me so spectacularly onto a new path. So that day in January was the day I identify as the beginning for me.

Since reading Mitzvah's moving story 2 weeks ago, I've gone back into this experience and attempted to find a memory of dying, but it just isn't there. It was useful, and a little painful to reexperience it all though, and to reconnect with that idea of purpose, which I've recently lost.

[mosquito]

.....

Can you say OOPS??? Try walking THAT one back...

Reminds me of one of my biggest blunders ......

(Another story from the 80s) My friend, the proud owner of a white Jaguar, had been asked to be the chauffeur for the bridesmaids at a friend's wedding. So, there we were, outside the church (in Johannesburg), my friend, 3 little girls, a friend of the bride's mother and me, just milling round before the ceremony. The bridegroom came over and introduced himself to us, and then moved on, just as the bridal car, a blue Mercedes, arrived. The bride's mothers friend then looked at us conspiratorially and said "well, I don't know about you, but I don't think she has much taste". To which I replied, "yeah, he's a bit of a jerk, isn't he ?". She looked at me and said "I meant the car ....".

Needless to say, this caused uproar with all my friends and associates back home and I didn't hear the last of it for ages !!

[Fred Steeves]

Hi there everybody, I want to seriously thank ya'll from the bottom of my heart for what has been shared in this thread. Surely I'm not the only one who has greatly appreciated getting to know one another on a much more human, real life personal level, while filling in the blank canvas along the way. Complaints concerning the course of this thread in the last day, are simply the Universe's way of telling me this particular painting has been completed, and that it's absolutely perfect as is. To go any further would be akin to painting a mustache on the Mona Lisa.(LOL)

So thanks again to each and every one of you who contributed. http://nexus.2012info.ca/forum/images/smilies/newadditions/smile.gif As the moderator Kristin would say:

From The Heart,
Fred

[ThePythonicCow]

Thread closed, by request of the original poster.