Archive for November, 2010

Earth People

November 30, 2010

I resist the urge quite often to post media of various kinds. I am much more comfortable writing about direct experiences, but every now and again there is something that speaks to me and is a little too much for me to pass up.

Via Jason Louv’s Youtube.

A Momentary Light

November 25, 2010

I have a strange memory from last night. Some impulse awoke me, though I cannot hold onto what it was. My head rose up and I saw that I was still lying in my bed where I had gone to sleep. However, the dim shadow of my room was interrupted. It was as if there was a cone of cold white light emanating from just behind my head and slightly to the left. It was oddly reminiscent of the light from the small LED headlamp I often carry with me. This light illuminated the far corner of my room from me. The corner of my work table, my old brass lamp and purple radio I never use anymore and the grey cabinet they both rest on. I whirled my head around to find the source of the light. As I turn my head the quality of the light changes, becoming flatter, almost like an after image in the eye. By the time I have turned my head around to the left I see nothing but the dark wall of my room. Looking back to the far corner I see nothing but the week light that seeps in around my blinds and the outlines of my familiar belongings. The whole affair could not have taken more than two seconds.

My emotional reaction was relatively subdued throughout this experience. I was shocked when I saw the light and reacted immediately to find the source, but even then I felt that I could either watch it slowly fade or try to look, knowing it would disappear before I could find its source. I didn’t feel afraid at any point, possibly because the feeling that it didn’t want to intrude upon my consciousness was so strong. No mark was left upon my body, mind or emotions that would prevent me from thinking this event was a dream if my ego was threatened by it or could not support the event within its reality framework. However, it wasn’t threatening at all and I am quite sure I was not dreaming or experiencing an optical illusion. After the event I went right back to sleep and felt quite ordinary right to the present moment, and I still do.

I don’t feel the need to put any labels on this experience, but in writing about it and focusing on it I have revealed a definite sense within myself that it didn’t want to disturb me and didn’t wish me any harm.

Inner and Outer Passages

November 22, 2010

The absence of form is a gateway for that which is beyond ourselves. Whether the miraculous or terrible comes through that gate is defined by the nature of the formlessness and by that which we bring with us into that void.

Noise and silence are merely the inside and outside of the formless. Their shades and hues, fractured and mingling scintillations create the outer passage.

We bring the inner passage with us, named in the secret history of our hidden moments.

When inner and outer become transparent, the passage is formed. The gate opened.

Through the passage comes what has always been there. Simply what is, if we allow it.

“I want to show you what we do here”

November 22, 2010

If I were you I would go read Dan Mitchell’s latest post at Luminosity. To my eyes it is one of the more accurate renderings of some realities broader than our own.

I should take this opportunity to make a small point. Dan Mitchell and I often have very different interpretations for each of our experiences. That being said, I consider interpretation to be the last and least important step of this process. I have a great amount of respect for Mitchell and his experiences.

Four Coronations

November 16, 2010

Courage(to stand in what is),
Sensitivity(to hear what is hidden),
Peace(to let silence work),
Intelligence(to make whole what is broken).

Spiral’s End

November 12, 2010

Lucretia Heart has created a new blog to consolidate and continue her writing on paranormal and UFO related experiences. It is called Spiral’s End. Give it a look.

Parallel Memories

November 11, 2010

Over the last week I’ve had an intense flu, from which I am now recovering. As I mentioned in my recent post I Dwell Among the Broken, there is the potential in physical shock and hardship to open a human being to the broader nature of their reality. Sickness lives on this potential spectrum, and I became more aware of certain experiences I don’t think I’ve written about before.

The most intense of the phenomena that I experienced is what I’ve come to call parallel memories. The first time I became aware of this phenomena was after I had been sitting for a prolonged period in a defocused state where I could interact freely with my guides without my conscious mind getting in the way too much. From an external physical perspective I had just been reading on my computer. When I finally get up to do something else I casually wonder when a friend who lives with me will get home and think about what I’ll say when he asks what I’ve been doing…. Suddenly it feels as though I cannot remember what I have been doing for the last couple of hours. I think about telling my friend that I have just been reading and I am overcome with a sense of anxiety. The feeling is very much that I have not just been reading. I already know that more has been going on, but in an abstract sense that I knew my guides asked me to be in a certain state of consciousness for that period of time so that work could be done. When I quieted my mind and just asked myself “what did happen during that period of time?” a picture came to me. The picture was of me sitting in front of my computer, but there is a little man standing behind me. He is whitish and very indistinct, like a camera out of focus. He is using his hands to do something to the back of my head, but I cannot see that clearly. Even so, I know when I ask that he is organizing crystals inside my head so they will function better. To be clear, he didn’t put the crystal there, he was just making them work better.

The result of this process of remembering that I have just described is that I have two sets of memories. In one I am just reading at my computer while in a particular state of consciousness. In the other set, I am looking at this little man working on my head. The feeling of anxiety that I experienced was centred around not recalling the latter set of memories. I was not at all anxious about what the little man was doing once I remembered it. to characterize the series of events, I began in a defocused state where work was being done and I felt fine. I moved to a state focused on my personal social life, in which I could not easily remember or process what had just happened to me and thus I experienced anxiety over a lack of memory and awareness. This resulted in me entering a focused transpersonal state so that I could recover and integrate my memories into my rational, 3D life. This set of experiences took place sometime earlier this year.

My most recent set of experiences are mostly likely the result of the prolonged pain, sleeplessness, psychological extremity that came from being sick. If I had not experienced so much else in my life I would just say that I was delusional from a mild fever, or dreaming. I still don’t rule that out, or any other mundane explanation for that matter. I have simply come to a point where it would be disingenuous if I did not portray my experiences as I have them.

Late Tuesday evening, Nov 9th, I had been sick for two days and had not slept for any notable time since Sunday night. I was also in a large amount of continuous sinus pain and discomfort and had a throbbing painful heat in my forehead. I did not hold much hope for sleep considering my condition, but eventually I became so tired that I decided to try. I got a damp wash cloth and lay down in bed with it folded over my forehead. This begins two sets of separate and almost incompatible memories, yet they remain tenuously connected by shared moments. In one set of memories, I got up repeatedly to redampen my washcloth that would very quickly become warm, and them I would return to bed. In the other set of memories, I am a disembodied and abstract being. I have a purpose, which is to negotiate a religious/spiritual dispute between two species of non-human beings. These beings live in a different dimensions or state and their spiritual dispute over the meaning and interpretation of a prophecy between their two peoples has great implications for where and how they will live, their forms and implications for a greater cosmic order and well being. I am concerned for all of this, but not as Christopher Taylor. Some transpersonal aspect of my being seems to be the prime actor here, formulating arguments much in the role of arbitrator, but without the colouring of my personality.

These two sets of memories flow in and out of each other, but remain parallel. I remember being awake while some of the proceedings took place, but I do not remember reacting to them from my personal identity or acknowledging them in any until after. the next day I had the distinct impression that in one way I had seen something that human beings are generally forced not to remember, but that the Music was quite happy that I had entered a state where my ego was so diffuse that I could experience what I was doing in that other place directly.

The Borderzone, Symbols Now and Then

November 3, 2010

If you would enjoy a view into the distinction between the living heart of a spiritual experience and the accretted shell of religious signs, symbols and beliefs, then consider reading Borderzone author Arsen Darnay’s recent post on the Primeval Forestry of Symbols.

Please read the following excerpt in mind of my own initiatory experiences of being attacked and pulled apart, as well as in mind of various abduction experiences that include frightening medical experimentation, implants and the like.

“…Mircea Eliade, an influential twentieth century historian of religion, had written a definitive study titled Shamanism. I found the book and took a new look. Soon it all came rushing back. Eliade’s is an exhaustive description of the way prehistoric wise men (shamans, medicine men, witch doctors, sorcerers) were initiated and how they practiced their craft. Description—not explanation. Eliade’s book, therefore, rapidly causes the eyes to glaze over. We learn that—

Such men (only a few were women) underwent death and rebirth. Demons, gods, or spirits killed and disemboweled them and then replaced their ordinary organs with new and more perfect ones; the higher beings placed magical bones, stones, or crystals into the initiates’ skulls or bodies. They brought the initiates back to life. Then these people, recovering, discovered that they’d gained what we’d call paranormal powers of healing, precognition, sight-at-distance, mind-reading, and so on and so forth.

To modern ears the descriptions sound so fantastic, weird, and brutal that dismissing them outright as primitive fantasy and superstition, all based on rude ritual, comes naturally. No temptation arises in most casual readers to imagine that these accounts could possibly reference real experiences or events. What did strike Eliade forcefully was the uniformity of these descriptions (with minor variations) from culture to culture and from all across the world, including Australia, which landmass had long been out of contact with the majority even of prehistoric humanity.”