Tag: Soul Page 2 of 3

Best Start

“You best start believing in ghost stories, Miss Turner… you’re in one!”

So says Captain Hector Barbossa in the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie. I have rarely enjoyed a Hollywood line more than this one. It’s creepy. It’s ironic. It’s humorous. But most of all, it’s true.

Once upon a time, (like you perhaps?) I believed myself to be a single individual of an advanced ape-like species living in a solid, somewhat clockwork universe. I say “clockwork” because this existence seemed regulated by chain-reactions and set in a framework called Time. I say “somewhat” because the whole thing was always a little fuzzy around the edges. Like I was being forced to concentrate on a single character in a play I had not written. I had a beginning that I could not remember and would face an ending that I could not predict. Sound and fury, signifying nothing and rounded with a sleep. (Sorry. Bard-o moment!)

Just about every religion and belief system in the world holds to the idea of some kind of afterlife. Heaven or hell; reincarnation; tunnels and white lights. Even some atheists express a hope that their “energy” might continue on in some different form.

Most people know they are going to die. Since very few of them know what will happen to them afterwards, they avoid thinking about it. There is fear. There is hope. But mostly, there is ignorance.


When I was a young man and newly Enlightened, I would drive my friends crazy with my detachment. More than once they feared me suicidal because I would so often give away my possessions. “Dude,” they would say, “you need to come down to earth and quit trying to see everything from God’s point of view!”

So I tried. I walked the common path. Son; student; worker; husband; father. Many adventures, few regrets. However, as Oliver Holmes once so rightly observed, “A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions.”

I am no different or better than any other single individual of this advanced ape-like species. I’ve merely climbed a little higher than most so my horizon goes a bit farther out. I can tell you what I see out there though. There is no death. There is no afterlife. There is no spirit world that follows this physical world. There is only the spirit world. An endless Dream where you call the shots (or don’t) according to your own will. What happens when you “die”? Whatever you want.

How scary is that?


So you best start believing in ghosts, Dear Reader… You are one!

Timeless

Student:
“Ten years ago, I wrote a letter to my future self and kept it in a drawer. Today being the ten-year anniversary, I opened and read it. It contained information that I had forgotten about that would be important to me in another ten years. So I sat my present self down and wrote another letter to my future self that I intended to open and read ten years hence. My question is this: If I am a different new-born self in each instant, am I communicating with people that don’t exist? And are they communicating with a me who doesn’t exist?”

Master:
“Just stop! You’re making my head hurt. Our true form is a serpent. To be new-born constantly would require you to be alternately new-dead at the same rate. In fact, it is all you, past, present and future. The Real world exists in eternity. “Eternity” does not mean “time going on forever”. It is outside of time entirely. We only enter into time when we wish to change something. Time provides a “frame” upon which change can be effected utilizing the leverage provided by bracing against the additional dimension. Remaining within time requires self-discipline and/or genuine interest in the project. Now begone!”

Punchin’ Judy

Student:
“Master, last night in my travels I came across an evil spirit that has taken away all of my psychic powers. I am completely cut off from the spirit world. I’m helpless! Why has this happened?”

Master:
“The blockading spirit is you. You need to approach this one from the other side.

There is only one Thing and we are not separate from It.

Think, a God of Sock-Puppets. It does all the voices, thinks all the thoughts. The real you is this God. (Or higher-self or whatever you want to call It. Words are such poor tools.)  What we all have in common, what allows us to have these powers, is the Puppeteer, so to speak. Identify everything that is not you. (“Your” body, “your” soul, “your” mind, “your” self, “your” sanity, etc.)  Those things are the puppet. Take those away and all that is left is the eternal I AM. It’s not “your” anything. It’s just you. Simple consciousness which is the back-ground field of the universe.

Now you are the puppeteer.

Student:
(Turns around and walks directly into the wall. Falls backward onto the ground. Holds hand to head.) “Ouch! What just happened?”

Master:
“God only knows.” (Chuckles.)

Eating Crow

As I was driving home from work the other morning (I work at night), I passed a crow perched upon, and devouring her breakfast. For just a split second, I saw what she really was. I also saw what the roadkill really was. If you don’t know what I am talking about, I cannot tell you.


All things in this world are projections or emanations of a Reality that is higher than this one. By that, I mean more real. Unfortunately, most people are not able to understand what I mean by this. They can read the words. They can think the thoughts. But they cannot comprehend what they have no experience of.

We mystics are reduced to language that is senseless in the ears of the uninitiated. There are two types of humans in this respect; each considering the other to be absolutely insane. The difference is that you can be cured. (This being addressed only to the mehums or muggles, of course.)

Parables. Even old Yeshua (“Josh” to us Englishers) could not directly point out the Truth. He had to describe the “kingdom of heaven” as being “like” this and “like” that. He couldn’t just say it. It’s very nature prevents it from being amenable to logic. It is quite literally senseless.

There is another type of madness you will see among the Illuminati. (By which I mean Enlightened people in general, not some secret cabal of power-mad manipulators who live in the imaginations of the fearful.) It is a seeming coldness or lack of concern when confronted by situations that most would find distressing. Death; sickness; pain; war. It seems even worse than that lack of empathy that defines the psychopath. Here is a person that can laugh at death because he actually thinks it’s funny.

It’s not really madness though. It is the result of the sure Knowing (as opposed to merely believing) that death is not the end. Relatively tragic? Yes. Ultimately so? Not at all. The fact being that each of us chooses the precise time and manner of our exit. We are our own playwrights. We see that our true identity is what is called the “Higher Self” among certain circles of lower selves. So rest assured that if a Master giggles while you are killing him, he’s not being crazy. (He may just be laughing at what your reaction will be when he takes his revenge from “beyond the grave”.)

Illumination is not the death of self. It is rather, the discovery that there is no self. To be willing to consider this however, requires that the desire to know the Truth be stronger than the desire to exist. You can’t lose your soul, but you won’t Know that until you try.

The kingdom of heaven is like Abraham sacrificing Issac.


So who was the crow really? What was the corpse upon which she fed really? They were symbolic representations of Things that are deeper (and darker) than we are generally able to see. Things we cover with cartoon cutouts because we are unready or unwilling to perceive them directly. What I saw cannot be described in any meaningful way using words but that may be just as well. Shit was lovecraftian.

Geisterschule

Okay class. Let’s do a quick run-through.

How many worlds are there? Is there a material world and a spiritual world? Do they combine to make a single world? Are there yet higher spiritual worlds that make our spiritual world seem material by comparison? Do angels have their own dream worlds?

I would propose that there is but one world. The real world. God’s world. By which of course, I mean the Imaginary one in which we live and move and have our being.

Is our world the dream world? Is dying here simply waking up into a new dream? Would you like to create that new dream or would you just accept the one given to you? Can your next dream be a lucid one? How about this dream?

Are we dreaming together or separately? Aliens whisk a woman away to visit their planet. Her husband just sees her die from a heart attack. Which dream is real?

Many children have imaginary friends that they insist are real. This is considered normal. Adults are more likely to have imaginary enemies. This is also considered normal.

What if the “afterlife” consists of just your bare consciousness, stripped of all memories, returning to the primordial chaos to sink or swim? Will you be able to assert your sovereign will and use it to create a new reality? A kingdom of heaven? Or will you be confused and frightened, not knowing what to expect? Will you just let things happen? Risk a Nightmare?

Dreams. Astral travelling. Imagining. Remote viewing. Out-of-body. Near-death. Actual death. Story-telling. Hallucinations. Ordinary reality.

Are these separate things, from your point of view?

How about from God’s point of view?

How is your point of view different from God’s? How is it the same? Compare and contrast.

Study hard kids. There will be a test at the end.

Straight and Narrow

Flat on his back in the hospital bed, a single tear rolled down his temple into the starched, white pillow. Most of his family were in the room, teary eyed and somber. The minister from his church stood near the door. He had put up one hell of a fight but the cancer had won. His doctor had said it was only a matter of hours now. His kidneys had shut down. His liver.

Too weak to even lift a hand to wave goodbye, Sam slipped away and was gone.

Those gathered in the room stopped looking at him. They were all looking at something on the floor. All Sam could see was the top of their heads. What? With amazement, Sam realized what was happening. He had floated out of his body and was now hovering near the ceiling. His family was not looking at something on the floor, they were gazing at his now lifeless corpse. His minister silently mouthed a prayer.

“Well, here I go,” thought Sam. “Come get me Jesus! I’m ready!”

He looked around. The hospital scene was fading away. He was floating in a dimly-lit, gray void. Wasn’t there supposed to be a tunnel or something? A light he had to follow?

“Samuel  Jefferson Greene, Baptist. Is that correct?” asked a somewhat bored-sounding male voice in his left ear.

Sam was startled. He looked around. There was an odd sensation that resembled waking up from a dream and he found himself standing in a tiny metal room. Smooth walls. Bright illumination streaming down from fluorescent light fixtures set into the low ceiling. There was a sliding door, also made from smooth metal with a brushed finish. Buttons. There was a low humming sound.

“An elevator?,” he blurted.

“Is that what you see?” asked the voice, somewhat distractedly.

Sam turned to his left. A man of medium height stood next to him. They were both facing the door. The man was wearing a short, white robe. No. That wasn’t right. Sam frowned. It was a lab coat. Mild blue eyes gazed at him expectantly through brown horn-rim glasses. The man held a clipboard.

“Wha…,” Sam began.

“Are you Samuel Jefferson Greene? Arriving from Slater Memorial Hospital, Pickettestown, Oklahoma, U.S.A.?”

“Y-e-s,” Sam answered slowly, puzzled.

“It’s symbolic. People see different things depending on their life-experience and what they expect.”

“What?”

“The elevator. Some people think they are on a bridge, or in a tunnel, or opening a door…”

“So we’re in this elevator because to me, it symbolizes my travelling up from the Earth and into Heaven?”

“Something like that. My name is Pete, by the way. I am the gatekeeper. Give me just a minute to close out your paperwork and you can be on your way.”

Pete scribbled a line on his clipboard and checked a few boxes.

“Pete… You mean Peter?” asked Sam, astonishment dawning. “You’re Saint Peter? This isn’t quite what I was expecting.”

“It never is.”

“I mean, you’re just a regular-looked guy. With glasses?”

“Is that what you see?” Pete smiled blandly. “We’re almost done here. I just need to confirm a few details for the record. He lifted the clipboard and flipped through a couple of pages. “It says here that you were raised Methodist but halfway through college, you started going to a Baptist church, is that correct?”

“Well yes, but…”

“Then at age 34, following the death of you mother, you started spending a lot of time reading the Bible. You became a youth minister the following year and then actually went on a missionary trip to…where was it…? Caballococha?”

“Yes,” Sam nodded. “It’s way up on the Amazon. In Peru.”

“It says here that you had a crisis of faith during that period?”

“Yes, I did. There was this crazy witch-doctor-shaman guy there. Silvio. He said that since I was trying to win his people to my God, he would have to try to win me over to his gods. He wouldn’t leave me alone. Constantly talking about spirits in the jungle. Spirits in the river. Spirits everywhere. I tried to be polite. I listened. I showed him in the Bible that people were born guilty of sin and needed salvation through the blood of Jesus. We had some long conversations and some of what he believed started to make sense to me. I admit it. Satan got a hold on me there. I started to question stuff. Stuff like what if the Bible wasn’t the only word of God. That maybe God spoke in other ways too. That maybe my religion wasn’t the only right one. I’m ashamed to say it, but Silvio ended up being my friend. The devil used him to get to me. I talked about this to my minister at the time, Brad. He helped me see what was happening. You should’ve seen Silvio’s face when I told him I knew what he was up to and rebuked him in the name of Jesus. He even cried to try to confuse me. Brad ended up recalling me and I had to go back to the States. Once I was home though, I got my head back together real quick. God saved me. Again.” Sam smiled ruefully.

“Did you know that Silvio became bitter toward Christians and white people in general after that? Eight years later, he murdered two Mormon missionaries and threw their bodies in the river. Their families never found out what happened to them.”

“That bastard,” Sam nodded grimly. “I stumbled there but I eventually got back on the road to Glory. It wasn’t my best moment.”

“No. No it was not.” Pete scribbled something and looked up.

“Now, what about that girlfriend? Let’s see… Abigail, was it?”

“Abby. Yeah. I really loved her.”

“But you broke it off, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Because she was Jewish?”

“We wanted to get married but she didn’t want to turn Christian and there was no way I was going to turn Jew. It would break my heart if she became my wife and then didn’t go to heaven with me when I died. And what if we had kids? What would happen to them? I had no choice. I had to cut her loose.”

“And you are aware of what became of her?”

Sam didn’t answer.

“She killed herself. You broke her heart. She became depressed and she killed herself.” Faint lines of disapproval flickered at the edges of Pete’s mouth.

“It was an accidental overdose,” said Sam quietly.

“No,” said Pete. “No accident.”

“That’s on her,” said Sam more forcefully with just a trace of anger. “There was nothing I could do. I wasn’t going to lose my salvation over her. Change my faith and lose my soul? That was not an option!”

“Sure it was.”

“Yeah, but I made the right choice. I stuck with Jesus. I stayed the course. I passed the test. That’s the whole point of life isn’t it? God testing us?”

“You’re absolutely right,” said Pete. “Souls are tested rigorously on Earth. God cannot have citizens of Heaven who are not adaptable. Who cannot think for themselves. If the Lord wanted humans to be robots who slavishly stick to one program, he would just make them that way.”

“Wait a minute. What are you saying? I did everything right. I kept the faith. I did exactly what I was supposed to do. My reward is in heaven, right?”

“I’m sure you are aware that God has a habit of making things appear one way when in fact, the opposite is true? Money rots the soul, healthy food tastes terrible, the meek inherit the earth. Like that?”

“Sure, but…”

DING! There was a jolt and a light flashed above the metal door as it began to slide open.

“Oh boy,” exclaimed Sam with a big smile, rubbing his hands together. “We’re here. This is it! Heaven at last!”

Sam stepped through the door and the waking-up sensation rippled through him again. He felt a blast of hot air across his face. Before him sprawled an enormous vista of flaming horrors. Terrifying demonic monsters were everywhere, torturing wailing human forms in a thousand unspeakable ways. A particularly hideous creature, black and vicious was staring directly at him. It started toward him, drooling.

Sam spun around to face the gatekeeper, indescribable fear clamping his heart. “Hell!” he screamed in fury and despair. “I’m in Hell?”

The elevator and it’s occupant had faded away. Pete’s response was attenuated but still audible.

“Is that what you see?”

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