Thinking of Things

Was it somewhere in Theosophy that I read that thoughts are things? 

It's part of that idea that we ourselves are creating the panorama that we greet everyday when we wake up.  It's as though a part of our mind is creating a dream in real time that we experience. 

This is diametrically opposed to anything a serious person, grounded in science would think, but you might start noticing that you know more about what's going on than some people believe possible. 

At some point in my life unbelievable things started happening to me.  Or at some point I noticed them. 

Highway One, in Marin County, around some small mountain or other I noticed that I was breaking for the pot holes before I noticed they were there.  I just felt the urge to break.  

At some point I started to pay attention to how I felt about things, and I started talking to myself about what I wanted as far as a project was concerned.  I started to conceptualize the particulars, describe them to my self.  

Things would begin to conform to my vision.  

When I was religious, I believed God was powerful,  but really, if you have a vision for what you want to show up in your life, and you have put it into words, then you have offered it up to that part of you that does the work of assembling your world.

I've been in religions that denigrate desire, but I think the idea is to work with it the way a sculptor works with clay.  Because desire leads to things, which is where desire needs to be refined into something that you might enjoy.  Or that you might consider aesthetically pleasing.  

At least to you.

 

As Time Goes By

Age is the most curious thing. For example, I look back at my life and understand things that escaped me before.

Part of this is because at one time in my life when I should have summoned courage instead of giving up, I failed. It stuck with me. For critical things there are no do-overs. 

Members of my family started to die years ago, I miss them, and miss being part of a larger family that is connected. I understand that life has a limited number of days, and that doesn't concern me very much; at least as far as my life is concerned. 

My death would fracture the lives of some other people, and that disturbs me. I want so much to remain on the Earth, not because I clutch at life, because I will live regardless. I worry about some of my friends and close relatives.

Dwelling in the Cave

In Linda Moulton Howe's Glimpses of Other Realities, Volume II: High Strangeness, Author's Introduction, she has a few paragraphs relating a story that comes from an elderly Colonel who may have spent time with an extra-terrestrial who's disc had crashed somewhere in New Mexico. 

The being explained telepathically that this was not the only universe.

He continued with: "Imagine a large island of sand and that each sand grain is a separate universe separated from the others by an electromagnetic membrane. And surrounding the island is a cold dark sea." 

The intelligence officer relating the story to the author refused to explain what the cold dark sea was, he said that it would forever change her. 

Somewhere in  the volumes of books produced by Jane Roberts pertaining to a channeled entity named Seth, Seth explains something that relates to the above in that each of us is really an electrical field that creates it's own universe.  

My thought is how much that sounds like the universe in each of those grains of sand. 

A very long time ago, I dreamed about a life as an electrical entity in a container of some sort. Admittedly a strange thing to dream about, but that thing would dream about real life. It had no sense of time really, its only sense was whether it was existing as an electrical blob on the floor of the cell, or whether it was powering up to a dream somewhere. 

And it put the things it was interested in into its dreams. 

Sadly, we're something different than what we suppose we are.  We're not any particular race, culture or anything else, except thinking makes it so.  Thinking by that thing in the box. 

That box looked very much like a cave and the story of the cave has been around a very long time.

I first heard about it from Sigrid, the lovely young woman who taught me so much about mysticism, and then found myself coming across it in a work of fiction by John Garner.   

I still stumble across it occasionally in casual reading as the cave "of life and death".

A Retrospective on Mystical Practice Throughout My Life

Once upon a time, when I was younger and in collage, I dabbled in mysticism.  To the point where I was able to have a Kundalini experience.

This was achieved by at least a couple of hours of meditation at night. 

Eventually, my spiritual ambitions were derailed by life, and I fell off the path.

Oddly, mystical experiences did not stop just because I wasn't meditating, although most of the really strange things happened in dreams.  

Many strange things would happen in dreams, sometimes visits from beings that were certainly upscale from me.   

I'm thinking of the white light that told me I was in his hands, and he showed me what some of his plans for me were.

I would seem to experience people's deaths with them.  And when they were strangers, I chalked it up to the fact that it was only a dream.  When people I knew died, it was something else, because I knew they were dead.  It would turn out that they were.

In all of that I have to ask myself, where is the mysticism, the union with God that mystics seek.   That I sought.

I don't believe in God the way I used to, although I think there are some very powerful beings who could fit anybody's description of a god.  I don't have the kind of faith that I used to. 

We don't really know the contours of Mind, our little mind or the Mind we will have after we depart this life.  It's not so much that Mind is strange, it's that Mind has ideas.  Mind has facilities and we don't know what they are, and when we throw off our mortal coil, we will be met with a reality that would seem new to us if we woke up from a nap.

I do have to say that the one time I woke up thinking I was dead, it seemed awfully ho hum to me.  I suppose this is because without a body we don't get freaked out.

I really don't know where mysticism is in all of the experience we suffer, living and dead. 

Kundalini is an experience for the young, because they have the sexual energy that it takes to lift up the soul and ask to be taken up.  But I was so unusually calm that night that I thought I had been given a gift and I started moving energy around until something crawled out of the base of my spine and came up my spine.

Scared the bejesus  out of me.

Musings at the End of Life

Now that I'm old, my perspective has changed from where I was when I was immature.  I have begun to appreciate the diversity of human intellectual growth and character development.

Not necessarily all mine.

One starts with the idea that the ideal life minimizes its difficult aspects, and at the end come around to understand that the difficult aspects are the crucial parts.  The more of them the better.

The satisfaction is not while you struggle, it's after.

And now that the struggle of my life is done, I'm beginning to see what I missed and where I went wrong.

At least some of the time.

Like a meal:  the light parts, the heavy parts and the desert.  In that order.

Timeless Earth

I would guess, that if you saw the Earth, fresh from the "other side", somehow arriving here, you would see it as a cloud of probabilities, you might not even see the planet itself.

Although I think you would know there was a planet beneath the clouds.

My reasons for that are suppositions that time for someone outside of a body isn't a real thing, which is something that floats around Mystic circles. 

Parts of Journeys Out of the Body by Robert A. Monroe describe the exploits of some designated soul, he called him AA, who arrives on a tour and falls in love with incarnating in one life after another.

Obviously, an addict.

Oddly, some people love the experience of each life so much that when it's over, they have to have another.  To those people, the whole superstructure of souls who dispatch people into bodies doesn't really matter once your new life is locked and loaded.

In Journeys, Mr Monroe explains that some of the early lives can be difficult, unfair and painful. He does this almost in passing with examples.

Of course if you have gone to the dispatcher a number of times, and you have a list of requirements for the new life,  things can be different. You might arrive in a place where individuals are treated with respect and have possessions that grant them some freedom of movement.

So then, all of Earth, in the sense of time, is available for incarnation, so if you dream up something nice for your next life, you can enjoy it whenever it might be.

Just imagine what you want and who you want to be, and keep your list handy.