Sacha—The Way Back

by Stan I. S. Law

  SACHA 13+82 days (cont.)

  My new set of problem solving started soon after my previous life, although ‘soon’ is also a relative concept. It was soon in terms of my awareness of time, which only exists outside the consciousness of the Undiscovered Realm.

  [I’ve changed again my name for the Undiscovered Country or Kingdom. The reason is that the Realm is not up there or down here. It is as much here as there, or everywhere. We simply cannot place limitations on it. It could just as well be called a State, though it is no longer a state of mind. We could also call it a Condition, which is closer to the truth, but sounds like a disease. The nearest would be to call it a specific state of Consciousness, only we cannot define it. That is the problem with words.]

  I recall, I had to select new parents prior to my incarnation. For my future stint of becoming. And if you think that this is an easy problem to solve then it’s only because you completely forgot what it was like when you had to make your choice. Most people, practically everyone, are blessed with regressive amnesia, which is a necessary ingredient for remaining relatively sane in the physical reality. Imagine playing Hamlet with your head full of lines from Macbeth, Julius Caesar and Titus Andronicus, all at the same time. Or if you’re a girl, try Olivia, Desdemona and Ophelia. Now add to the lines all the sounds, smells, visual effects, reactions of the other players, all crowding your poor brain simultaneously.

  Look what happened to Ophelia...

  A guaranteed prescription for a loony bin, although I’m not quite sure what a loony bin is. My dad refers to most university committees as training ground for loony bins. I think I know what he means.

  On Earth we develop the ability to draw on selective memories. The same is true of inter-life experiences, only the range is vastly greater.

  I know, for instance, what were the main ingredients of my previous lives, but only those that were directly responsible for the position in which I find myself today. All the peripheral, non-essential items, which run into billions upon billions of thoughts, actions, and reaction, are blissfully discarded as non-essential. The nonessential stuff is recycled for future use by others. When and if required. Thus, though I say so myself, I am sane.

  Or at least, I think I am sane. Or healthy.

  Cogito ergo sum sanus.

  Back to my parents.

  Just as with my own life, when you are getting ready for your next becoming, the essential characteristics of your prospective parents are available to you. You don’t read books about them, of course, there are no books in the Undiscovered Realm. But there is a library of knowledge. Most of it is available to you by direct perception. All that is vital to universal evolution is stored there. It feels very much like your Theory of Information, Dad. I’m sure you’ll develop the concept further. The lower (mental) memories are kept in the Far Country, still lower (as well as emotions) on the Home Planet. And when you are ready, you don’t actually ‘go’ from Bardo into a condition of becoming by popping out of your mother’s womb. The baby does that, you take a longer route. We descend progressively through various states of consciousness until we absorb all the smaller bits and pieces, which combine to form our personality. Or, at least the ingredients that will contribute, and give us a predisposition, to certain traits. Thanks to this set up, we get Mozarts and Hitlers alike. They both seemed to have succumbed to their inherited traits.

  I hope, Dad, when the time comes, you will be able to clarify this process.

  It seems to me, that when we are faced with a choice of environments, we always start with the immediate family from our previous two or three stints on Earth. It would be quite impossible, or at the very least eminently impractical, to make a selection from all the life forms which may have had influence on us. After all, we are immortal and that means, we had no beginning.

  Of course, we are always conducting our process of becoming in the present, but you know what I mean, Dad. And Mom, of course.

  Earth is also a euphemism because our becoming could take place on any planet, in any galaxy of our choice. What we don’t realize down here, i.e. on Earth, is that there is no such thing as material reality. At least, not as a permanent concept. What we perceive as reality is an arbitrary construct, which can be and is constantly manipulated by our minds.

  That much has been explained quite clearly by Jesus’ teaching and Castaneda’s Don Juan. Different but fascinating sources.

  [Editor’s note: Sacha goes on to describe, at length, how to learn to manipulate the physical reality consciously, at will. He claims that this learning process is the primary purpose of the first stage of his embodiment. He also claims, however, that for the vast majority of human beings those techniques are inaccessible at their present stage of development. The limitation is due to their inability to overcome the perception of reality as a non-dualistic concept. He assures us that the information is available in various scriptures. Below he notes some of his conclusions].

  So what we have instead is only our perception of reality. The same is true, of course, of the Home Planet and the Far Country. It seems to me, that what really makes up the illusion is our inherent need for order and harmony. We must never forget that we are beings of light, and that essentially we are indivisible components of the Field of Infinite Potential. Down there, or here––since I am down there myself at present––we refer to that Realm as heaven. This is inaccurate. The Undiscovered Realm is a state of stasis with unhindered awareness of Bliss. What people usually refer to as heaven are the lower realms, primarily the Home Planet, where imagination and emotional contentment prevail.

  You both experienced all three. Perhaps you can give those pursuing the subject a more acceptable impression.

  [Ed. note: Sacha describes again the perceptions of realities he refers to as the Home Planet and the Far Country which are covered elsewhere in this account. Two days later, Sacha described the foibles of excessive reliance on our physical senses].

  SACHA 13+84 days

  Imagine what would happen to the psychological makeup of any person if they were suddenly confronted with a mass of countless numbers of atoms in a constant state of movement, swirling in all sorts of directions, seemingly, in quite unparalleled disorder. I guarantee that it would drive every single one of us crazy in zero seconds flat. What we perceive is an act of self-defense, formulated and instigated, as I have mentioned already, by our inherent need for order and harmony. We make the best job we can from this chaos, and, I must say, we’re doing pretty well at times.

  It does my heart good that after only a few billion years we managed to create an objective perception which we can share, most of the time, with each other. What I am trying to say is that we perceive the world we live in as beautiful as we make it. No more and certainly not less. We are the sole creators. What we perceive––is. What we don’t––is not.

  SACHA 13+91 days

  [Ed. note: A week later Sacha returned to his thoughts leading to his present embodiment, which he’d begun relating on 13+68].

  So I had to pick parents.

  I was lucky. My prospective mom and dad had already found their way into the Home Planet and even the Far Country. Getting them into the Undiscovered Realm confirmed my suspicions. They were ‘my kind of people’. What happened, as you might well have guessed, was that I have completely failed to lose my memory of the upper realms. To this day I am unaware why I was exempt from this prevailing amnesia. No doubt it is necessary for the fulfillment of my purpose. At any rate, I still consider my real home, no, not the Home Planet, but the Undiscovered Realm. Because in as much as the memories of intellect and imagination stay in lower strata, the memories that form your universal individuality are always with you. So retaining my conscious connection to or with my true nature, I automatically remember the universal aspects of my total existence. It’s a wonder I didn’t go mad in the first few weeks on Earth. And even later, if it hadn’t been for my parents who were cognizant of different states of consciousness,
I’m sure I would have gone bananas.

  When all preliminaries are settled and we are ready to be embodied, we succumb to a deep dream. The eastern mystics call this state of ‘recumbent’ consciousness Bardo. We dream of the life we shall have. The dream is much deeper than any coma you could possibly imagine. As there is no perception of time in Bardo, we dream in minute detail the complete course of our ‘future’ embodiment. Only then we enter our physical bodies, and spend the next number of years trying to remember our dream. In this sense, our life on Earth is a dream. In fact, not even a dream but a struggle to remember our dream. That, I suppose, is our first problem.

  This may sound a little complicated but I’m sure you know what I mean.

  So there I was, a little bag of water with a few grams of chemicals suspended in it in a most intricate way. People call this a baby. I thought of myself as a sort of a smart-Alec guy, ready to do my bit, which I’d dreamt up in Bardo.

  I knew that my real name was Alexander. Like my father’s. But in Canada, one doesn’t suffer from the need to build dynasties and, though living in the States, my parents remained intrinsically Canadian. Since I was born in the States, I could have claimed the privilege to be called Alexander III. But it would have been silly. To be lumbered, at such a young age, with a ‘title’ was as ludicrous as what some of the Europeans do. I am told they still enjoy inherited titles.

  [Ed. note: Sacha next shares with us his view on some of our traditions and customs. He displays early signs of a sense of humor. Below an extract from notes he wrote later on the same day].

  A great-great-grandfather might have performed a noble deed for which he’d been rewarded with a title, usually accompanied with a nice plot of land. That’s fine. Why not? The king owned anything he wanted to own, so he could bestow the land and the title on anyone that pleased him. But Alexander II, or III, or… XXIV?

  Again, why not? All it took was one little spermatozoon making its way into the prescribed location and, bingo, nine months later number XXV was ready and waiting.

  I am not as smart as all that. I’ve read about it.

  Oh, yes. I’ve read all about the generative process. By the time I was eight I’d read all the books I could find at home, and later I used all the libraries you would take me to. How else was I supposed to learn how to function in this material illusion? I’ve learned to scan the books rapidly, retaining virtually all that I’ve read. Some people call it photographic memory, but it isn’t. It is more like metabolizing what you read. Like making whatever was in the books—your own. You might recall, by my thirteenth birthday, local libraries had nothing to offer.

  Nothing of interest that is.

  That’s why originally I’d started writing this diary. Otherwise, no one would believe me. Not that that would matter much. I have a feeling I won’t be around very long. Unless I fail to remember my dream. That worries me a little. Sometimes.

  By the way, Sacha is a Russian diminutive for Alexander. Why did my parents choose a Russian name for me? I asked them. They said it was because I was born in the US of A.

  Go figure.

  But my parents did make a concession to their democratic heritage. They spelled my name the French way, with ‘ch’, rather than ‘sh’, and pronounced it with a soft ‘sh’ as in chef or chalet, not as in cheetah.

  As for carrying on my name, dad told me a story once. There was this man who had two beautiful daughters. He was miserable because he didn’t have a son to carry on his name. You know what the man’s name was? Smith.

  As I was saying, go figure...

  So, I’ve been anchored in this reality for thirteen years now, and I still have no idea what I am doing here. And if it weren’t for my parents, I would have called it a day. But not a day passes by that I don’t learn something from them. Not the facts, or what goes under that name, but real knowledge. Understanding the concept of a human being. I know where we all come from but nobody seems to act as if they know. My parents at least have a good idea. We visit the Home Planet, my mother’s favourite, and the Far County which dad likes the most. We visit them both quite often together. Neither of my parents ventured into the Undiscovered Realm on their own. It seems too disembodied for them. They seem to loose their identity. Not surprising. Most globules of light seem the same to them. It’s like visiting China for the first time and trying to tell people apart. Not easy.

  But the beings of light are all different.

  Down here, our eyes can see only the narrowest range of vibrations, or photons of electromagnetic energy. Sandwiched between the lengthy infrared and the extremely short ultraviolet waves is the visible spectrum ranging from violet through blue, green, yellow and orange to red. This tiny portion of the visible spectrum varies in lengths from 0.000076 centimeters at the red end of the visible spectrum to 0.000038 centimeters at the violet end.

  But even in the physical world, the range of an electromagnetic wave is vastly greater. X-rays, gamma rays, radio and television waves––they all are light. All made up of photons. The waves range from lengths greater than the diameter of the Earth to others so short that a billion strung together would barely span the width of your fingernail. Dad told me that, and he knows.

  We know about those waves, only we can’t see them.

  But this is true only on Earth. Now imagine that your vision was designed to recognize all the electromagnetic waves in existence. The explosion of colour would burn our brain to a crisp in no time flat. Luckily in the Undiscovered Realm we don’t have brains and there is no time. But we all possess acute awareness not only of the virtually infinite number of wavelength, but also their intensity and the combinations of the various photons in relation to each other.

  We recognize them by direct perception.

  When dad or mom enter this state of consciousness, they can instantly tell the combinations that are familiar to them. It is like recognizing an old friend. “You’ve changed, but I’d always know you in a crowd,” they might say. The familiar is inherent to them. The rest...

  I don’t think there is anyone who can tell apart all the different nuances of light. We can all tell apart the great souls––they stand out like beacons, and we can tell those who are still struggling in the lower realms in their physical embodiments. It’s tough for some of them. They’ve inherited, so to speak, from their previous attempts so many mental aberrations that it may take them ages to repair the damage. Often many ages.

  Thank heaven we’re all immortal.

  There is one other thing.

  Since we are beings of light, we share the characteristics inherent in light. And one of these characteristics, or attributes, is the predisposition towards order and harmony. That which we call chaos does, in fact, harbor this predisposition also. It is also this same trait, as I’ve mentioned already, which enables us all to perceive order in the ‘chaos’ of atoms all around us. The more we allow this trait into our consciousness, the easier we can influence those atoms to enter orderly and harmonious relationships. That’s how healing is done. That’s how some people do things, which others call miracles. It’s all the same. A tendency towards order and harmony enhanced by our consciousness.

  We can all do it. And most of the time we do it we seem quite unaware of it.

  There is so much to learn.

  SACHA 13+107 days

  Only Grandpa makes any sense. He’s not trying so hard, and he’s done a lot of good. He never treats me with kid gloves. When I am wrong, which is often enough, he’d say so. He has vast knowledge of how the physical universe works, and his perception of the universe is very orderly.

  His body is slowing down but his mind is as sharp as nails. I love our morning walks. And that time, years ago, when he first took me to Caltech... They’d treated him like a really big honcho. That was before I’d learned that the Chancellor is the biggest honcho of all. I found it hard to realize because to me he was just Grandpa.

  And a very nice Grandpa at that.

  As for
my own body, well, it gradually increases in size, which seems a bit silly considering I can be any size I want to be on the Home Planet. In the Far Country the time moves so slowly that you would wait forever to grow up. I really like the names dad gave all those states of consciousness. Especially that last one. It really is an Undiscovered Country, and, in a way, it can never be discovered. Maybe it is better than calling it a Realm. I would rather just call it Home.

  You can only really tell things, or states, or anything, by the way they change. When something is intangible and changeless, you can’t really get to know it. Not in the same way. It remains Undiscovered.

  But you can feel it. Bliss is not a state of mind. It is a state beyond mind. Or beyond the intellect. Not quite the same thing. If you equate mind with consciousness then it’s a different story.

  And regardless of what I’d dreamt in Bardo, the Undiscovered Country, Realm or Plane is my Real Home.

  SACHA 13+132 days

  I remember that walk I took with dad at the beach when a hydroplane ran down a man swimming out into the ocean. There was no point then, or even now, to tell dad that the man had spent the last ten years daring himself to swim out, way out from the shore. He worked almost daily to overcome his fear of deep water, which was only a symptom of his fear of the depth of consciousness.

  After all, when we say we go ‘up’, as in up in heaven, we really go ‘in’.

  He, the man, imagined all sorts of vile fish, monsters to be more precise, to grab him and pull him down into the abyss of the deep. Saint John writes a bit about them in Revelation. The pits and all that. On the day the man’s body was killed, he had overcome his fears. The swim out was only a culmination of his struggles with fear. His whole life was filled with monsters, with evil spirits lurking in the darkness to grab him. It made his life miserable. He hardly realized that his life was hell. A self-imposed hell––self-created. A hell to be conquered, mastered.