Finally I remember my mother-in-law asking me,
“Did you see something or what? What happened?”
This at least got me to look up and into her eyes. I struggled again to respond, but there simply wasn’t anything I could say.
I wanted to communicate, to say something, I suppose; that I had seen…, that I was…Wait, what’s happening? It was all so confusing. I couldn’t say “Heaven” or the “Glory of God” for even the word “God” was a pitiful lack of respect for the light of which I had been. Everything was beyond words. Finally I shook my head as if to acknowledge that I didn’t want to talk.
By the end of the third day however, and seeing the torment that my silence inflicted upon others, I managed with great effort to communicate what had happened. It was strange to relearn who and what I was in this world, a complete reconfiguration of mental matter into this lowly state.
The gibberish coming from my mouth and the mouths of others; what was this brutally low form of communication that I heard? In this case I would find it was called English. The whole thing was bizarre as I couldn’t even recognize the language of my thoughts much less the words of my wife. It’s hard to believe this babel was once my native tongue.
Some part of the brain however, must have had memory recall. Otherwise how was I breathing? Aha! “Breathing”, which would imply some form of life. Yet if this was really life then let’s eat and drink, for tomorrow we die, but now, I was already dead in this separation from the light. I was now a prisoner to this body, a bad dream, spoken in English. Yes, I remember the meaning now; that must be what this is: a bad dream.
Finally when I could speak, it was brutally forward so as to bring immediate ridicule. As I explained what had happened, their response was typical for those who have forgotten, again protecting the boxes in which they slept:
“Oh, I wouldn’t tell anyone; just keep it to yourself! It’s not worth it. Please, please just keep this to yourself. You’ll be alright.”
God forbid, of course, that we talk about God from self-experience. What will people think? What will they say? Oh the scandal of not being a sheep led to slaughter. Oh the chains of this world and the fears under which we live, our cares for others’ perceptions. Damn our lack of insight. I was frustrated yet exhausted from this whole ordeal and slept better than I had in years. Within the shut of my eyes I found solace, a respite from conscious thought and the horrible fact that I was lost. For a while at least my dreams and visions of the grids had stopped. Sleep became my friend, a welcome reprieve from the hell in which I found myself.
There was however, a residual effect that lingered from the other side. I knew their minds now, their minds. I could see their thoughts, everyone’s thoughts. I knew their pains. If their knee hurt, I sensed it. If their hearts ached, I could feel it. I was not so much an empath now, but rather extra-sensory. I could see their posturing usually before they were aware of it themselves.
Humans do that, you know; they calculate one against the other. Seldom is the mind within man straight forward or genuine, nor can it be. They maneuver for advantage on an almost non-stop basis and, for those who can see it, it is the very hallmark of evil. They do it through the manipulation of words and questions, through politics, through religions, through money, through family structure, through everything.
I could see these evils that accompany a world of separate souls. We call this “normal” of course, but it is not. We call it reality, but it is wrong. While here on Earth however, this is the nature of a mind divided. There is no real oneness, but only division, and with division comes contention and warfare. We search for oneness no doubt, but it is an unlikely thing, a desert walk with no water.
A madness ensued from my predicament. I became quite the thrill-seeker, doing almost anything for the sake of adrenaline; anything for the sake of energy. I starved for the energy that I’d lost since my fall. My risks, though calculated, showed a blatant disregard for the body that my mind now recklessly used. To be free of gravity, to jump from an airplane, to climb a cliff with no rope, to run, to dive and to drive like a maniac. Anything for adrenaline and endorphins.
My mind bullied my body into doing whatever it so-chose, no longer in consideration of its pains. Cynical of the body’s weakness, I pushed it to the point of collapse. I taunted it from within my thoughts, somehow hoping for release. Suicide was an option and duly considered, but between the promise, the portal, and the face of my children, I could not justify such action. There had to be a reason I was here. Oh, but the insanity of this existence.
I was not out of body, per se, but at odds the flesh and blood chains that had me. There was “Me” and then there was the body to which I was unfortunately stuck. I was just crazy, crazy to the point that I once jumped off a 55 foot high wall at a sand-pit into a pile of sand no bigger than a car. It was a shortcut at the time to where I was going, and I did it with no more thought than walking down a sidewalk.
I was crazy to the point of jumping from a cliff onto a nearby tree or treetop only to shimmy down without rope or harness; crazy enough, now, to jump from that tree into the top of a sapling to only ride its bow to the ground; crazy to the point of, having forgotten my tools by which to disassemble a barn one day, I instead used my feet and fist and easily finished the job by myself and by that afternoon.
Too hot or too cold was the body’s problem, not mine. Its woes, its weaknesses meant little to me and only revealed the frailty of the physical creature I inhabited. I did not hate my body yet resented its limitations and rightly so. It could not compare to who and how I was before and within the dimension from which I came.
On a pleasant note, my interaction with the natural world was taken to a whole new level. An energized feeling would occur, similar to the one I’d felt when that little old man touched my hand. When it did, I could approach any animal, whether it be a wild deer, bird etc., and instantly touch or hold that creature. In those moments they trusted me; they knew me and I knew them as well.
There were often witnesses to these events too, and while I could never make it happen at will, when it did occur, it was as real as the sun in the sky. One Saturday morning I, my wife and children were eating breakfast at the kitchen table. My daughter, having spotted a blue jay at the window, tugged on my shirt-sleeve to show me. It was looking not at us through the glass but at me. Thus I knew, I felt in that instant, as it did me—our souls. It wanted nothing special from me, but the inward food of union that I also sought.
There we both sat, frozen in stare, speaking more through the eyes than any volume of words could ever explain. I arose and walked to the door, went outside and around to the corner. The jay, typically a mean-spirited and territorial bird, met me half way, perched upon the limb of the Bradford pear. Oddly as it twitched this way and that as birds do, I knew his mind, as he also knew mine. I was inside his mind already: not his mind, not my mind, but a connection, a mixture of the two, not separate, but one.
Without pause I extended my arm to which he simply hopped from the limb and onto my thumb. And so I stood and stared as did he, content with this connection as was I. My wife and children, seeing this, were only steps behind, gathered around to witness the spectacle. At the time it was as natural as falling off a log, as we used to say.
I gently cupped the jay with both hands and let everyone take turns touching him in awe of what was happening. After less than a minute I reached him back up to the limb to which he disembarked without fear or flight. The ensuing conversation brought a multitude of questions and speculation: Was the bird sick? How did I know he’d let me hold him? Could I do it again?
So again I reached, to which the jay ascended, a foot or so beyond my reach. I spoke to him in his native tongue and walked closer: Come here; it’s okay; to which he again lit on my wrist. Again for another 30 seconds or so we all marveled at how wonderful a thing this was. And then the feeling, the bond, quickly began to fade, a connection that I could not fake in a thousan
d years. As it did and the energy of the moment left, so did the bird; flying away to another tree far out in the field, probably himself wondering what in the world he was doing in a human’s hand.
I too was wondering what had happened, how I knew and how the bird knew. But the fact was, deep down inside, I did know what had happened, that it was an after-effect of the portal experience. It was a power beyond thinking, beyond thought. It was not doing, but knowing; it was not thinking, but being. However, it was far more than just being in harmony with nature. Indeed it was supernatural.
A month later was an incident with a deer. It was a doe who loitered in the field behind the yard. It too felt the attraction, that overwhelming energy. Again I have no clue what activated this event within that particular animal and at that particular moment, in myself as well, but it happened. The energy projected itself in great power within and when it did, the rules of nature changed in an instant.
I walked to the deer as though to a sister, a familiar old friend. As I did it grazed and then raised and met me half-way. There I rubbed her back and scratched her shoulder as she continued to graze. It was wonderful to see and I can remember as my mother marveled at the sight.
Again however, the energy began to fade after about two minutes. When it did, I could progressively feel the nervousness of the deer within my own being. This too was a shared energy and natural for the deer. So as goes the way of nature, so did the deer. Shortly thereafter she bounded away for the safety of the woods as I too returned to my house.
My genius was followed by complexity. I was as simple as a child, yet no longer simple to the ways of this world. I saw everything in great detail. Who was this man I’d become, this memory that had invaded my human life? The depth of it, profound; the love, beyond description. This mind and its understanding. I had become touched as now I also touched the world with the dimension from which I came.
The God-Element continued to fade over the next three months. When it shined, it shined oh so slightly. At times they could see the glow, barely discernible, but there, a layer of luminescence that they could not deny. It infuriated many and astounded a few more. Most seemed to hate it because they could not explain or control it.
But the changes within were also at odds with this world. The new me made it difficult to maintain relationships. Almost every conversation was awkward as I had little or no subject matter in common. I was an eccentric now to whom almost no one could relate. As a man blinded, I saw only the desire of my mind, the need to connect with that energy from Heaven. Thus the races and games, the parties and politics, the family and finances, all became the mundane.
I was a bit odd and I knew it. Often even I wondered if I’d lost my mind, and why not? Everything from my understanding of life to my understanding of the scriptures was changing. Not only had my focus changed, but the drive that we have for the things of this world was gone as well. I was miserable yet could not take my eye away from the experiences I’d had. Though seemingly powerless now to make them return, they were yet too real to deny.
By little surprise, as the glory within me faded, came the return of those confounded circles and grids. All I wanted to do was return to that higher dimension; but if I couldn’t be there, then I at least wanted to learn more about it via the means before me. Thus I took a new look at the grids and now dissected them mentally. I sensed now more than ever that they held the key by which to return home.
Yes; I still wanted love and closeness while here on Earth, but even that eluded my grasp as did every other endeavor of human life. I had no one to talk to; no friends to whom I could confide. The fact was, that my hunger for life was no longer filled with the health, wealth, and wisdom of this world. As a result of my changed-focus, I lost my money—all of it. I lost relationships too—almost all of them. I got divorced, and with it my reputation was destroyed through a series of bad choices, bad luck, and an outlook to another world that simply didn’t fit. So was it my fault or Heaven’s?
But even in depression and financial ruin, the hells of this world were unable to snuff that one tiny moment in eternity; an event that I could not touch or smell or see nor even prove had happened. Yet those experiences were infinitely more real than my everyday life. With this more than 27 years of vibrant youth, physical wellbeing and social and financial good standing as well as a stable marriage were instantly exchanged for this new mantle.
Then came the deception. Now having been touched by another world, I too wanted to touch and to express my inner being. I had a message that I wanted to be heard and so I turned toward any inward-leaning ear. In this there were those who told me what I wanted to hear to get what they wanted for themselves. Yet I too was lured by opportunity.
Unable to find that energy from beyond the portal, I became deceived by my feelings. I fell for the allures of natural attraction, the female physique, for those who promised a similar love and interest for the divine. In turn it was an opportunity to connect, to find some sort of bond beyond what I could find alone.
These actions were in contradiction to my own beliefs. I had come to hate this world, yet found myself with no better option for oneness than sex—not just sex for the sake of sex, mind you, but a desperate search for energy through some type of union with another. I indulged in sex and gravitated towards every beautiful woman I could find.
The Element, though faded in all but my eyes, emitted just enough emerald to entrance their minds. With a mere look I seduced them, not I however, but the remnant power of Heaven they beheld. It was the visage of my eyes, what had become steely eyes, a telltale sign of what lay within. Thus the truth was confused by the flesh, not only them, but myself as well. I became quite the cad, that era of my life a story in itself.
It was this that began my downward spiral even further from the reality of Heaven, for in it would come a series of affairs that destroyed everything. In this process I made a lot of mistakes and did a lot of very stupid things that I regret. Ultimately however, experience was my best teacher for what would come.
In the end I would find that while in this world, I truly was not of it, that no matter who I am here in the flesh, it in no way defines who I am in my ultimate form. But I had to, -had to- lose everything first to see it. And not only loose it, but actually have a changed hope—so changed—that the loss of this life no longer mattered, that the loss of reputation, love, relationship and money meant nothing. He had to be able to trust me first. He had to make me unshakable. So now, a delusion and a dream became more powerful than my despair. It’s all quite amazing really, for in time, even despair would turn to faith.
Now I knew what the little old man had told me. Aside from the visions, he was preparing me; he was training me. It’s why I had a dream of the portal that I couldn’t, at first, remember. Before, I simply wasn’t ready to know the deep things of God though they were still registering within my subconscious all along. Until I was broken of myself however, I could not be entrusted with what I saw or experienced. That said, even more correction would be on its way.
The Sacrifice
E very second and a half to two seconds, for an hour at a time:
chop . . . chop . . . chop . . . chop . . . chop . . . chop . . . chop
Hand hewing logs with an axe and broad-axe was hard labor, -brutally tough, but, at the time, so was I. However it was equally rewarding as well. Not only had I built the log-house in which I lived, but made some of the most beautiful hand-hewn mantels around.
And while it had begun as a hobby, it had grown into a means by which to rid myself of excess energy. My run-in with that seemingly hapless old man brought more than one side-effect as did the event of the portal. Not only did I live in a constant state of increased brain activity, but now my physical energy had spiked as well.
My thoughts raced, not in confusion, but in clarity. I became an empath of sorts and a mere look into someone’s eyes gave me volumes. I could feel their hurt, their hate, their lies and fears. My mind expand
ed in creativity as well, far beyond what I ever imagined possible. So regardless of those happenstance, whether real or imagined, they had certainly caused some very real changes in me.
As you might guess, I was becoming a bit maddened with these turn of events. It got to the point where I could hew logs for 10 hours a day then still run 3 or 4 miles in the same boots and blue jeans in which I’d worked; soaked in sweat but still beaming with a power that simply didn’t make sense. There were times, even after all that, I would lie in bed unable to sleep, literally trembling with energy.
My mind darted through the thousands of grids and the constant movies of my memories. Frequently I would get up in the middle of the night and write a thought or sketch an image, only to finally doze off in the wee hours of the morning. Even with this I could often jump out of bed the next morning like a springboard, straight to the coffee maker, throw on some duds, slop the hogs, pour the coffee, and out the door. It was a fact that I simply couldn’t slow down.
So while I loved the boundless energy, the downside was that it became increasing difficult to function within a normal social setting. Not only was it difficult to sit still for very long, but I became increasingly intolerant of normal human interactions. Keeping up with the Jones simply became plastic; small-talk felt fake, and the norms of life, unbearable and vain. My mind was elsewhere now, the images being far more entertaining than a sparkling clean car and having my grass mown exactly 3.4 inches tall. I became quite the slob, unorganized, hap-hazard and increasingly eccentric.
I came to resent not only the shallowness of others but even my own physical needs. I was part animal, at least I should say, locked in an animal’s body, always forced to yield to its needs and lusts. I was nowhere near the portal now, still certainly in this world, but just as sure that I was not of it. Yet I could not escape.
The Book of Daniel and the Mystery of the Resurrection Machine Page 9
