Earth Girls are Easy... The dark side of humanity Part 4

How would you feel, if Antonio promised to unveil for you the mysterious, dark, underbelly of consciousness, would you be afraid?

I was!

In my estimation, fear seems a normal reaction. After all, imagination begs us consider the realm of influence to which we would ascribe the title, Master of Darkness. 

What form of Ogre, or Devil incarnate, must be powerful enough to successfully derail, what one would expect should be, the GodSelf ability to express a life of Eden?

Time and again, Antonio's revelations had unequivocally proved my true identity to be the totality of all manifest reality. 

I don't mean to appear ungrateful, however, the bla bla bla how big "I AM" can get long in the tooth when circumstance bears such a striking physical contrast to the obvious truth of day to day life. 

Knowing myself to be eternal LOVE, GOD, or LIGHT if a less theatrical title were selected, is truly a wonderful realisation. Warm and fuzzy as the GodSelf makes me feel, I would be remiss if I failed to redress the most oft refrain I hear.

Why am I, or any of us for that matter, living in this stinking mess of a world?

You don't have to be a deep thinker to trespass upon the obvious disconnect between the vision of love, juxtaposed, to the fear primed reality we daily experience. Antonio suggests our true identity is love; is it not then reasonable to enquire, 

How in the hell did we end up here in this continual state of fear?

Given the choice between bliss and suffering, is it not fair to assume the vast majority would choose bliss?

Who can explain the catastrophe we have created?

Hey, it's not like we got things a little bit wrong!

We can't say we nearly hit the mark of experiencing our world from our GodSelf voice!

Things are seriously messed up here on Earth. 

Our state of existence is so far removed from an expression of love, I suggest, with a little more focus sweat and tears, we humans could have created the perfect antithesis of love!

Similar lines of thought, only serve to enforce my belief, any evil manifestation powerful enough to circumvent my desires as a magnificent GodSelf being must be something to behold. 

To this end; I expected my final journey with Antonio to embody darkness, snakes, slitherings of all sorts, In the absence of the dramatic, Surely, at the very least, a good deal of pain and tragedy must exist. Assuming a unique flavour of horribleness awaited, I felt something grotesquely feeding in the darkest recesses of my psyche. 

Maybe everything in our reality is love and we 'consciousness' represents the evil villain? 

I jest of course; but only because I have experienced my identity. Thanks to Antonio, I knew whatever would approach in the moments ahead would be an aspect of the GodSelf. Truly, nothing exists which is NOT the GodSelf. Antonio would never hurt me, I am Antonio.

My eyes helplessly closed just as his fingers neared my temple.

Departing once again into Antonio's world, caused me to realise how I had come to love the moment his fingers touch my forehead. The very instant contact occurs, a new version of reality bathes my consciousness in a tub full of warm singularity goo. 

Whether investigating historical events, assuming the spirit of another being, peeking into timelessness, or touching the essence of my own totality, a common element of oneness always prevailed. 

This occasion of Antonio allowing me to peek into darkness I knew would prove no different.

The tapestry of my final journey commenced in a hospital room. The equipment seemed dated, possibly as far back as the mid 80's. On the bed was a young woman, on second glance, she looked a lot like me. 

Whoa, hold on, the woman on the bed was my mother! 

My mind began spinning, I remember thinking, this can't be true. Faint, but discernible, my dad's voice echoed in the background. His voice had a distinctively younger tenor than I could ever remember.

Oh my God, from a third person perspective, I was witnessing my birth.

No sooner had the realisation hit me, focus had turned directly to my infant self. Without warning, I discovered myself enveloped in the conscious mind of my prenatal self. Moreover, I was approaching the moment of birth. 

Touching my prenatal mind proved eerily like the experience I had when Antonio first showed me I was God. You may suspect the womb to be dark place. Yet, for lack of a better description, I experienced an impression of light. If asked to describe the experience, I would say the womb is a warm loving and remarkably bright existence.

What a mind trip! Holy cow; Antonio never ceases to amaze, but this trip was a real lulu!

Shortly after assuming the consciousness of my birth, I discovered Antonio was altering my perspective of 'self" by reeling my prenatal self back in time. Like a movie projector stuck on rewind, my sense of consciousness was cast backward. One frame at a time, I was closing in on my personal big bang, the moment my mother's egg was fertilised. 

The most compelling aspect of this incredible journey was the realisation, my destination, my entire identity, was GodSelf singularity. To be perfectly succinct.

The process of developing the physical body initiates the death of the metaphysical body. 

In time, the pantomime will reverse as the physical, once again, yields to the metaphysical.

The conscious prenatal human on the journey into physical 'being' passes many bright neon road signs informing the prenatal infant physicality and separation lie ahead. 

The first sign, indicating the trip to the material has commenced in earnest, is the loving energetic bond the two life forces have with each other. Soon after inception; a strong physical connection between mother and child is forged. 

The prenatal child learns to relate to mother as a 'second' being. This realisation develops within the psyche newly formed concepts of physicality and separation. The separate 'self' is the first real shock wave landed upon to the GodSelf being. Part and parcel of realising a separate self exists, is a diminishing sense of oneness the prenatal child sees as its ultimate truth. 

Mere cracks in the GodSelf dam, yet worthy of note. 

Each minute closer to one’s birth represents a minute farther removed from the divinity of self.

Late first and early second trimester, the prenatal me began to sense sounds from the 'Outer World'. This is the stage where 'self' defined as two separate beings now evolves into the acceptance. 'self' be represented by an ever-expanding stream of 'others'. 

Speeding away from heaven, divinity was shrinking fast in the mirror. The third trimester was much like much like riding on the edge of an avalanche. Development of the physical and neurological network supporting the illusion of reality came at me like a video game designer hooked on Ritalin. Sensations of all kinds pummelled, then moulded, my psyche into a state of total submission.

Yes, there is a world! Yes, it is physical! Yes, I am that, I am!      

Moments before my birth; I felt as if I were walking a razors edge between my GodSelf identity and the illusory identity I was about to assume. Just prior to birth, I still related to 'self' as a singularity, the totality of all this 'apparent' separation. Yet, even though the truth of my GodSelf remained intact, I could tell my connection with Oneness was being bombarded. Soon, any sense of oneness would forever be eternally replaced by an EgoSelf veil of illusion.

To be clear with you dear reader, I feel I should expand a little on what it means when I say "I knew myself as a singularity". 

When I use a word like 'know' I must anticipate you will attach a framework of reason. By example, I would use reason to illustrate to you, I am a woman and not a man. There are however, two very different types of 'knowledge'; experiential and innate. 

Experiential knowledge is derived from the collective rewards of experience and reason. Whilst, innate knowledge is a deep seated knowing which defines itself in the absence of physical reality. Another attribute of innate knowledge is found in its representation of a state of 'being'. Whereas, experiential knowledge is derived from a state of 'doing'. 

It is important you comprehend my prenatal self existed in a state of 'being'. Accordingly, my sense of knowledge at time of birth was almost entirely innate in nature.

Little do I understand of such complex metaphysical amusements. However, I would venture to say, I can only truly know 'self' by entering a state of 'being'. For it is the very nature of the illusion of physical separation which tricks us into believing my 'self' is somehow separate from your 'self'.

 Let us take a moment to consider the awesomeness of how significantly your identity changes at child birth. You, a magnificent GodSelf being, are acting in the guise of dreamlike 'consciousness'.

This dream, a fabulous amusement park where you have become your world. Jumping on the dream train is as simple as handing the conductor the tattered stub.

The stub offers a one-way pass to EgoSelf ignorance. One pass per person, go ahead be brave, leave perfection behind, then see what it is like to be immersed in a world of illusion and maya.

Having accepted this pseudo reality as a playground, I jumped head first into the woods. Wolves barking at my heels. Fare paid in full; the ride commences with me becoming a unique spark of divine consciousness who has chosen to not know its identity. 

How do you think we should usher in such splendour? 

One would assume a description of birthing events would include adjectives like; reverence, love, caring, honour. Failing a spectacular, loving beginning to the birth process, one would think doctors and nurses would avoid subjecting the newborn child and mother to brutality, horror or mayhem.  

Describing my trek into our precious five sense material worlds, I would have to say the experience involved a brutish giant unceremoniously dragging me into a nightmare. There is no point mincing words; the physical trip from the blissful GodSelf peace of my mother's womb to a cold operating room table, was a hard ride!

However insensitive, antiseptic and brutal the introduction to the illusion of separation was on the physical plane, there was also a metaphysical release of the spirit body which was equally taxing. When my mothers water broke, the transition from a state of perfect singularity to the illusion of physical separation began in earnest, Unceremoniously, it was the doctor’s hands and cold instruments which first firmly cajoled my body from the womb. 

From the moment the doctor clasped onto me, everything went to hell in a hand basket. With bitter tasting irony, the smack on my ass, merely served to punctuate the heinous ride.

The implicit message; there is no honey to be found here child, a nasty world awaits!

We will slice this little cord, tear you from mother, then commence with our clinical examination. My peaceful world had somehow, without warning, become apocalyptic. Seemingly, an eternity passed before the familiar beat of mother’s heart gave brief, but very welcome, pause to the onslaught of clinical insanity. 

This was my beginning, what about yours, your grandchildren? 

Do you think we, aided by the collective intelligence of twenty first century science, could somehow manage a few improvements to the birthing process?

As the experience unfolded, the smack in the ass proved multi-purpose. Apropos was its greeting to this crazy ride, as well, it also served to knock me out of my prenatal consciousness. Moreover, the smack on the butt caused me to escape the first person experience.

Plunked into a third person view, I presently found myself being an observer to the event of my birth. 

Realising Antonio had transformed my consciousness into that a fly on the operating room wall, I now found myself flitting about as an observer directly above my infant self. With a keen fly like acumen, I established a fresh accounting of my surroundings. 

Looking around the room, I noted my mother, father, for that matter, all living beings, were constructed of light. Each vestige of life appeared to cast a separate and distinctive outline of light. Similarities of appearance were noticeable. By example, the brightest light seemed to bulge out around the heart. Tentacle like appendages of light sprung forth from the torso, head, and limbs. 

Further observance indicated inanimate objects in the room, even the room itself, shimmered and glowed. Hard edges normally found on physical objects had disappeared. Everything seemed to gel into everything else; I found it near impossible to define one object as being separate or distinct from another.

Surely you are having a hard time imagining my description!

Let me steer you toward the movie "The Matrix". Remember the scene where Neo was blinded. 

This world as portrayed in the movie was very close to the hospital experience. 

The only exception I would make is that you observe living entities as being significantly brighter than inanimate objects. 

Further to this enigma, one would note humans shone more gloriously than other animals, who, in turn, glowed with a more subdued light pallet than did the grass, trees, or plants. The impression left by this experience clearly illustrated a correlation between consciousness and light. What I found shocking was the brightness with which my newborn self shone.

There I was, lying on a cotton terrycloth bath towel, little feet and hands reaching out to nowhere and everywhere all at the same time. 

Wow did I shine! 

The brightness emanating from my little body was so intense I had to avert my eight fly like eyes. The glory of the moment was captivating, magnificent, blissful beyond description. Looking around the room, my mother and father were both radiant, adding animation to the celebration. Excitement and joy permeated throughout. Never have I seen my mother so beautiful, nor my father so proud.

Looking down on this most joyous scene left me breathless. 

Suddenly, amidst this merriest of events, a pique of intuition, lingering in the corner of my mind, bespoke disaster. Moments after processing this strange sense of dread, a distinctive cool breeze traced across my back, making camp at the nape of my neck. 

Like an elastic band viciously recoiling to its point of origin, my mind zeroed in on the stated purpose of this journey.

Antonio had promised to illuminate darkness!

Dazzled and transfixed by the splendour of my prenatal trek, I had completely forgotten the objective of this exercise. Fear raced at me like a freight train wildly careening along an alpine pass. My mind fretted to puzzle out a logical conclusion to this ominous revelation. 

Befuddled by the exercise of ferreting reason from insanity, I nearly missed the villains grand entrance. Luckily, it had teased enough attention from the corner of my eye to enable a warning. I knew my GodSelf infant body was about to be horrifically violated.

Neon signs, banners and buglers were not needed to assure me the Master of Darkness had arrived. The beast approached, slowly edging toward the examination table upon which my infant self squirmed and cooed. 

Seeing the drama unfold below, I was taken aback to note the Master of Darkness, at least in its dealings with me, chose to inauspiciously appear as a shadow. Relief was felt by the absence of great beasts, slithering creatures or countless other fears I had previously envisioned would materialise at this auspicious moment. 

Aside from the phenomenal dark energy this beast commanded; its appearance proved no more odious, nor troublesome, than the shadow cast by a big old Oak late on a sunny afternoon.

Benign as the evil appeared, my apprehension escalated significantly as I observed the shadow slowly close the distance to the glowing baby below. Relegated to the role of observer, I helplessly stared with bated breath as slowly this beastly shadow engulfed the tiny body, my tiny body. 

Without fanfare, apparently unnoticed by anyone but myself, the shadow consumed the glowing infant. To say my infant body was consumed may represent a confusing image to many readers. Yet, I can settle upon no better qualified adjective with which to hang this portrait. 

Content you can be to know, in my heart of hearts, I was assured this shadow’s ominous presence had forever changed how I would define my 'self'. No longer would I be a babe bathing in the bliss of singularity. Quietly, without resistance nor concern, the Master of Darkness had consumed my GodSelf identity. 

Illusion instantly replaced truth; whereas my world was now a dualistic playground. EgoSelf division now ruled my consciousness. Metaphysical consciousness, had bathed me in tub of GodSelf love for nine months. Now, the GodSelf had entirely abandoned its hold upon my consciousness. Yielding to the Master of Darkness, my sense of consciousness would forevermore reflect a tapestry of physicality. 

Leaving my GodSelf behind, I was given one last glance at perfect love before the devilish EgoSelf, awakened within me a state of fear. 

Grabbing a bucketful of air into my tiny lungs, I wailed!

The moment of EgoSelf birth still stings my memory. Tears of sorrow push forth as I pen these words in recollection of my infant GodSelf spirit being consumed. For lack of a better description, I would have to say the event catapulted my infant self into a state of shock. 

Clearly, I can recall observing my helpless infant self. Wishing, beyond all reason, the cloud of darkness would somehow disappear to reveal anew the awesome, glorious, glow of my GodSelf body. 

Surely, I thought, the GodSelf consciousness must shake itself free from the clutch of Darkness. Alas, I knew the shadow would never leave. Moreover, I now know the shadow, covering my infant self, was the platform upon which the Master of Darkness peddles his great showcase of illusion.

Antonio is a genius; this epic journey was exactly what I had needed. His aim was to disclose the root of evil. Tasked with such a challenge, where else should Antonio begin other than the origin of evil, nay, its very birth. 

Never, in a million years, had I thought to perceive evil in the light of something which could be born. Yet, plain as the nose on my face, I had just witnessed the birth of evil. Antonio, in allowing me to experience the scope of my own prenatal consciousness, illustrated what my reality looked like in the absence of illusion. 

The purity and singularity of 'self' as a prenatal blob. The path toward separation, culminating with the birth of my EgoSelf and the very moment my GodSelf identity was consumed. 

Wow, what a bizarre, mind twisting, plunge into the rabbit hole!

The message I took from this freaky ride left me utterly convinced the root of all evil is not represented by a great beast. 

Contrary to the extravagance of my collective fears; there appears to be no hideous villains, smelly aliens, snakes, nor reptilian perpetrators of chaos. The seed of Evil, it would appear, sprouts forth, then bears fruit from the fertile loins of illusion. 

Evil, with ominous labels like Satan, Beelzebub, Ego, Archons or the Devil are used. Like monsters in a child's closet, these labels scare us into believing there is good reason for the chaos we see in our world. Flip Wilson, an olden-time comic, used to often spout out the refrain, 

"The devil made me do it."

Perhaps, all renditions of evil are nothing more than derivatives of fear. Humbly, I suggest evil to be the flip side of Godself love consciousness. Evil plays an essential role in reflecting the state of duality. In my mind, I see love as the essence of GodSelf, fear as the essence of EgoSelf. 

Is EgoSelf bad?

Is EgoSelf evil?

Hell no! The Master of Darkness reflects the choices and preferences we humans make when we lose sight of our true GodSelf nature. The farther we find our collective selves from the GodSelf light, the more our world will unravel in a state of chaos, maya, fear biased greed. 

Ultimately, the golden key Antonio provided me was the knowledge all manifest reality is GodSelf reality. Choices, experiences borne of fear, clouded by the EgoSelf, are no less renditions of GodSelf than are choices borne of love. 

Seats on the bus I say.... 

Duality means an equal portion of fear will balance and equal portion of love. 

We can label all the fear we see as evil manifestations. 

However, I prefer to identify with these moments as God dancing with fear in the darkened hallways of madness. 

Our lexicons define the word illusion as representing that which does not have a legitimate home within societies concept of reality. Bombastic, proud and careless, we paint the borders of our reality with the assurance of a steady hand. 

Thinking our philosophy beyond reproach, we fail to heed the near invisible, complex web of illusion constructed by what many would call Evil. The Master of Darkness has hidden within the collective psyche of humanity.

The Master of Darkness is the EgoSelf, a trickster who convinces us it does not exist. This beast I like to call the monkey mind. The little monkey preys upon your attempt at a peaceful existence. You know the critter well, it talks to you every hour of every day, it spreads fear, uncertainty, dis ease.

Can you imagine a more covert hiding place than within the mind of your adversary?

Earth Girs are Easy; embracing darkness Conclusion

Whoosh, a cool breeze braced my cheek, waking me from mental meanderings. Not surprising, to process what I had learned, I had, once again, drifted off to la la land. 

Often is the case when Antonio takes me on a trip. Each journey, he heaps so much information into my head, I find it impossible to advance to the next lesson without first taking some time to digest what I have just experienced. 

The sensation of jumping consciousness from one being, to another, and again, always reminds me of bass fishing with my uncle. Whenever I spot a big old bass hunkering down under a log, or one surfaces right near the boat, I seem to be holding a handful of knotted line. Much as I was eager to proceed, I needed to catch my breath from the last trip.

Teasing out the last few big knots in my line; I realised Antonio had whisked me away from the hospital room, then deposited me almost at my doorstep. My uncle's stately old farmhouse stood before me, framed by the rusty brown barn, and the massive old oak, all of which proved a warm sight indeed. 

The familiar sound of crushed gravel under my feet, coupled with the scent of a freshly mowed lawn, welcomed me home. Joining in the portrait, a wise old Barred owl hooted at my advance. I smiled, thinking to myself; why do we always assume owls are wise, old, males. Surely, we can assume many are stupid, most are not old, and about half must be female. 

From his/her perch, hidden somewhere in the Oak tree my great grand father had planted, the owl seemed to be making a frantic pitch to gain my attention. Although eager to treat myself to a relaxing bath and possibly a shot or two of whisky, I found myself pausing to spy his antics. Head, rhythmically pacing back and forth, he invoked in my mind an image of how the John Elway bobble head doll reacts shortly after my uncle brings his Chevy truck to an abrupt stop.

 

Transfixed, by the memory of John Elway's head bobbing back an forth, I was completely ill prepared, as well, utterly shocked to discover Antonio had deposited me into the Owl's consciousness. It always stirs shock and wonder when Antonio transports me into a third-party reality; no warning, nor chance for preparation, just bam, you find yourself in another being. 

Thankfully, by now, having had many such trips with Antonio, I had become inured to dropping into, or being yanked out of, the world of beasts, birds and men.

Sounds, light, information in general, came at me from the strangest of locations and oddest of sources. By example, I could determine a small vole had recently dashed through some under brush at the very edge of the property. 

Heart racing, the little vole was careless to expose his exact location, speed and projected path. This little guy was lucky, not long ago, I, or should I say the Owl I had become, ate for dinner a wonderful rat, in her prime of life, plump, well fed to the point of being fat.

Like this silly little vole, she too had a reprieve. Over a year past, I distinctly recall her crossing the Old Man river at a most auspicious time. The night in question, the moon was in her full glory, a hunter's paradise. We both knew she should not have been where she was. Back then, her little rat life was only spared because, courtesy of the farmer's late-night harvest, I was returning from an all mouse buffet. 

I always overeat at those buffets! 

Much as I try to limit myself to a few mice, I never seem to know when to quit. Three years ago, I ate over a dozen chubby little mice. So many of the tasty little morsels I consumed, I could barely lift my fattened ass off the ground.

I digress; but I do remember the night well. The rat was right smack in the middle of the river, helpless as a mouse. Even though I could not have eaten another morsel, I thought she deserved a reprimand of sorts. Flying high above, I placed the moonlight at my back in such a way as to cast an ominous shadow of my wings. 

She picked up on my presence almost immediately. She was a smart rat, she knew she had been careless as it was a bad night to be on the river. I could tell, by her desperate pace and frantic movements, she expected to be taken at any moment. Answering her fears, I swooped down with speed, talons raised, I sliced at her exposed head. Just before eating her this evening, I observed our portentous river meeting, so long ago, had inflicted a scar she carried to this, our final encounter. You might say, she had been stamped for processing.

Distracted by the squeaky vole, as well, by recollections of my delicious dinner, I nearly failed to realise the extremely bright light which, only a moment ago had appeared at the driveway head. The light was now nearing the house. The being, casting a shimmering glow, had crossed the courtyard and was advancing toward the front porch. 

Something about this light being was intriguing, inviting. The experience made me feel like a moth, helplessly drawn toward a dangerous flame. Hooting a welcome, I tried unsuccessfully to gain its attention. Glancing toward the house, I noticed the young girl, sitting by her bedroom window as she often does. Now, she was looking directly at me. She seemed oblivious to the presence of the strange light being crossing the courtyard. I found her lack of observation odd, especially since, I know she witnessed the flash of light announcing the being's arrival. 

Humans, their senses so dull, never seem to hear or see anything, unless of course, it happens to hit them on the nose.

Reaching the house, the light being knocked sharply on the sturdy pine door. The echo from the sharp blows reverberated through the house, causing a start in the young girl. Departing from her window perch, she responded to the lure. The door slowly opened emitting the luxurious aroma of fear. 

Cicadas chirping, the little vole still running, a pale beat from the girl's racing heart. These extraneous sounds and more were drowned out by the tiny creaks the door made as it slowly yielded to her wish. 

I doubt I will ever forget the moment the young girl first witnessed the light being. The blood completely drained from her face as she collapsed from shock. Hitting the floor like a sack of drowned rats; the girl was rendered unconscious. The light being gently picked her up, carried her a few feet to the living room couch, then returned to close the front porch door. 

Watching the scene unfold, I noticed a strange occurrence. The usual dampened glow of the girl's appearance had somehow been altered, the light being had somehow caused her to shine with an invigorated brilliance. She did not glow as bright as the light being. Yet, from this moment forward, she always displayed a brighter appearance. Being an Owl, I am very sensitive to the light us creatures emit. I can confirm for you, a light had been turned on in her body the fateful warm summer evening. 

Leaving the girl and light being to their meeting, I lifted off the Oaken branch. Soaring high above the farm. Stretching out my wings, I banked to the north, making my way to the Old Man river. The warm night air buffeted my body, invigorating me. Pleasantly content, my mind began entertaining the possibility of a midnight snack. The furry little vole lit in my thoughts the very moment consciousness was unceremoniously torn from my owl inhabited reality.

Being yanked from the exhilarating freedom of a night flight on a warm thermal of midsummer air, proved unfortunate. However, not nearly as distressing as the destination. 

Contrasting the joy and freedom of flight; I discovered Antonio had landed me in a big comfy bed. The bed itself was marvellous, I took no exception to its quality. What distressed me was, it appeared, Antonio thought best I assume the consciousness of an old, very old, lady. 

Surveying what existed below the covers, I came to the horrific conclusion, this body, I was so fervently fondling, was in fact my own. Having come to appreciate the gravity of the situation, shock immediately set in.

This couldn't possibly be me, could it?

Looking at my hands, veined, saggy skin, small brown blemished like water spots on a yellowed old map. 

I must be very old. 

Like a crash victim tracing her body seeking injury. With shaking hands, I found myself assessing the extent of age related damage. Frantic as an octogenarian can afford, my trembling fingers investigated my various dishevelled body parts. From head to toe the appraisal confirmed total degeneration. Having estimated my age to be, at the very least, eighty, I sighed with relief in knowing, at least, I had enjoyed a long ride.

My heart wildly raced at a pace not seen in decades. Blood pressure soared, shortness of breath led to anxiousness, followed by extreme panic.

Foreign as this old carcass was, I soon realised, circumstances, in this moment of pseudo reality, were extremely tenable. Mind spinning at breakneck speed, I thought to myself. 

Okay Karen, the first order of business is to get a grip on the present reality. Take a slow deep breath Karen, slow, deep. Again, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, good. Now, release the tension in your muscles. Feel your body relax, let the tenseness wash away. Like ocean waves caressing the sand, slowly, each wave took me deeper toward relaxation.

Wow, that was close!

Prior to this moment, I had never thought about what old age would actually feel like!

It sucks!

Being deposited into the body of an octogenarian proved a rough transition, even by Antonio's standards. The affront of my present predicament was greatly magnified by the fact, my previous body was an owl. From free as a bird, to life as an old bird stuck in bed. This scenario seemed an ominous start to the lesson. 

The world is quite different from this aged perspective. Compensating for decrepitude, I apparently have developed a personal relationship with my organs. When I was a young girl playing with my doll house in the backyard, I never realised, one day I would be forced to develop a deep connection to my heart, lungs and veins. 

Appraising the working order of this old body, I was shocked to discover I could actually feel my heart at work. More to the point; there now seems to be serious limits to what the old ticker can, or should I say cannot, manage. My heart and I appeared to have developed a working agreement. I take it slow and steady, then, my heart reluctantly reciprocates by agreeing to keep ticking. 

Similarly, I seem to have become quite personally acquainted with my lungs. I never thought twice about how much air my lungs could provide. Such is not the case now, these old windbags seem to have a picked up a few holes along the way. 

Making provisions for their long-standing service, I presently feel grateful my lungs have committed to hoovering just enough air to keep this old machine in motion. Blood pressure! Hell, I never knew what that was, until now! Pump and push, pump and push, pump and push.

Somehow, I have become an active voyeur of the relations between my veins and heart. Where once they toiled as silent slaves. Now, they are cheered by an audience of one. The thought of cheering transported me back to mental images of high school. How handy my pink and white pom-pom's might be at this late stage of my life. 

Gimme an "H", gimme an "E", gimme an "A", gimme an "R", gimme a "T". 

What does it spell? 

HEART! GO HEART GO! GO HEART GO! GO HEART GO!

Lying in this bed, immobile as a worm on a hot summer day, I knew the time for cheering had come to an end. 

This, I knew was my final hour. Surprisingly, it proved quite agreeable. My surroundings adopted the surreal appearance one sees when looking into a snow globe. 

Shake the crystal sphere Karen, Suspend reality, before your eyes, a little girl dances upon a wintry wonderland. 

My lungs, seeming to have missed the last hurrah, struggled to provide air. Surprisingly, there was no panic, no despair, nor dread. Slowly, I came to the realisation, I was visiting at death's door.

One foot in the grave, the other on a sheet of winter ice. 

Memories, of a life well lived, began dancing across my consciousness. The husband I never thought would appear. Three beautiful children. Even the grace of a little grandson. Rich memories; joyful times with family and friends. Even a few recollections of my trips with Antonio, had filtered into this the final vignette. 

My final breath; cool, shallow, strangely invigorating. Just then, an old Barred owl hooted in the distance. Tears of joy trickled down my cheek as the light of this life serenely faded into the abyss.

After my death, consciousness returned within an instant. However, it was not what I had anticipated. 

Instead of seeing my dead body below, like so many people expect death to illustrate. I discovered Antonio had again taken me back in time to the moment I first realised I wasn't an owl. The last moments of my life were being relived.

The pantomime I had moments ago experienced unfolded below. Except from a third person perspective. 

I could see my arm raised up from the bed, followed by the frantic evaluation of my body. Duplicate events which confirmed this present moment was indeed a exact re-enactment of my death. Looking, from above, I was able to peer into the eyes of my dying self, just in time, to witness the panic of death slowly being replaced with the serenity, acceptance, unity and love which is also death. 

During this ultimate personal transition from fear to love, my body blossomed into a spectacular light being. There was no doubt about what I had witnessed. Finally, I was free from the enslavement of EgoSelf illusion. Once again, just like my prenatal self, I was reunited with the joy of GodSelf singularity. 

How does one not cry with bliss, when confronted with a vision of a beautiful love, so powerful?

HOME! 

Where did the EgoSelf go? 

Did it die or disappear? 

Will EgoSelf inhabit another being? 

These, like so many questions I have, may never be answered. One thing for sure, Antonio had shown me this brilliance of unity many times. 

I know its name is Love., 

This glow illuminating the body below me arises from the pure light of unconditional love. The EgoSelf trickery, which hid my true Godself identity, had vacated. 

Unfortunately, it is only before our birth and after our death that we are capable of tasting reality from an unpolluted stream. 

Like a massive anchor, Death weighs upon our collective psyche. Freezing us in fear while stripping humanity of its connection to freedom. 

Extensive as our fears may be, nothing strikes greater terror into the heart of a human than the prospect of death. Chained to the chaos of illusion, we live our lives ever fearful an untimely death might cut short the unique signature we call "I". 

Having invested everything into this chunk of "I", humans find it mind numbing to consider the extinction of self. Seeking to relieve ourselves from the stress of our inevitable demise, we clasp onto all sorts of metaphysical and religious fairy tales. Silly philosophies populate our culture, suggesting a bevy of life extending paradigms. Multiple lives, reincarnation, heaven and hell, are just a few of the vehicles humans are prepared to step into. Anything is better than the prospect of finality.

Antonio has shed an entirely different light on concepts like, self, birth and death. 

His journeys have described a reality in which "self" has no beginning nor end, no start date nor ultimate expiration. 

In discovering who I am, I have also learned that there is nothing which I am not. 

It was not long ago, I could only view my world in the context of good verses bad, right verses wrong, life contrasting death, or the greatest battle of them all, 'self" against the universe. 

My lessons have brought to bare the polarity between the GodSelf and EgoSelf realities. I realise now. Every waking moment, I am either choosing to tremble as a powerless human being struggling for survival or I am rising above illusion and ignorance. When I choose to live with light, I express the GodSelf truth of unconditional love. 

Love or fear, peace or chaos, I create reality. I am all which I believe myself to be. 

Will my path be lit by knowledge, or shall I swim forever in a sea of illusion?

Either way, I am still God, I am eternal, the omnipotent creator. We exist as physical manifestations so that God can experience the wonder of being God. 

Truly, if a man were to rape then kill my child. Antonio has taught me, my daughter's death must be viewed as, God dancing with God. 

In the spirit of knowing unity consciousness, judgement is replaced with love.

.

Locked into the matrix of illusion, the EgoSelf weaves blankets of ignorance. It is up to us to solve the enigma, rise above the fear, then discover the beauty hidden in the unpolished diamond. Or, we could also choose to rape and pillage. Either way, we are polishing diamonds. When questioning evil events, many people struggle when asking two fundamental questions. Where does evil come from? Why does God let evil happen?

From where does evil arise?

The EgoSelf must spin many illusions to support this dreamscape playground in which God plays. Without the maya of illusion, we could not exist in physical form. Without evil, the EgoSelf would whither away in a blob of formless singularity. Evil is not sin, it cannot be represented with a scale of right or wrong. 

Evil is merely the affliction of ignorance which humanity must suffer in support of the physical duality of consciousness. It behooves us to remember, we do not exist in physical form, we exist as consciousness. The more we embrace the illusion of physicality, the farther we find ourselves from our true GodSelf identity. 

The human condition, we are like sailors on the open sea. We can set sail for whichever port we desire. However, we must realise, the closer we sail toward the EgoSelf the wilder, more chaotic, the sea will become.

Why do we live in such a state of utter fear and destruction?

They say ignorance is bliss. Yet, philosophy has taught me, the exact opposite is true. 

From the moment of birth to the finality of death, the EgoSelf envelopes us all. I very much doubt we can completely escape its domain. After all, we desire the experience of separation. We thrive in the wonder of an endless buffet of choice. 

Who in their right mind would want to forfeit the beauty of a golden sunset, or the joy of embracing the ones we love? 

Not to mention, ice cream, chocolate, a beautiful rose, or the endless wonders our world offers. These joyous, uplifting, experiences are equally supported by illusions which enable bombs, bullets and blood. 

Fear is the natural human reaction to ignorance, we always fear that which we cannot understand.

Humans, in the face of fear, will invariably exhibit one of three reactions; flight, freeze, or fight. Eliminate the ignorance, then, you will eradicate the fear. Remember, in the absence of fear, love will always prevail. The answer to all our problems begins with the search for the hidden GodSelf within each of us.    

If there is a God, why do so many of us have to suffer?

There is a GOD. You have likely always believed, GOD is separate from you. Perhaps you expect he will judge you after your demise. 

GOD is not separate from you. GOD did not create the universe. In the form of consciousness, GOD became the universe. GOD became you. Moreover, you are the creator of your universe, always have been, always will be. For that matter, the chair you presently sit in, is also GOD creating the universe. 

This is how us Gods roll. 

If you cannot see beyond the illusion of your EgoSelf, then, you will create a world where 'you' are a single separate being struggling to survive in a very, very large, alien universe. 

Guess what? 

The powers that be, they like to see us in servitude. When we are enslaved, it becomes much easier to allow one eighth of humanity to starve. Enslaved people are prepared to turn an eye when the Earth is destroyed by corporate greed. Essentially, in the absence of GodSelf love, you will have become a an empty, powerless GOD trapped in a box of fear. 

Without a connection to the power of your GodSelf nature, you will be emboldened with the strong potential to create havoc, chaos, and mayhem, Your EgoSelf will rule the world with fear, desire and envy. 

Suffering under the shadow of ignorance, you may survive, even thrive. Yet, you will never release fear, never overcome desire, nor see beyond envy. Choice is the key to your salvation from pain. Each of us can choose to discover our GodSelf. We can choose to lift ourselves above the quagmire of fear. Embracing the GodSelf being within, you will naturally seek to unite with your brethren, love your enemies, offering compassion where judgement once ruled.

Experiencing my own life in the absence and the presence of illusion, has afforded me the necessary perspective to escape from the grip of chaos. 

In the light of recent lessons, I have learned a great deal about evil. Where once I imagined evil and good to be forces locked in an eternal cosmic battle, I now understand evil is born and bred from an ignorance of the true 'self'. 

 Strange as it seems, we cannot discover a philosophy which carries us above the EgoSelf illusions of separation, physicality and death. Our ignorance encourages us to destroy our world, kill our brethren whilst hating ourselves. Our connection to our true GodSelf nature has been severed by the overblown relationship we have with the EgoSelf. 

Frightful as is our state of being, this in no way diminishes the truth of our identity. We are beautiful reflections of love.

Truth be told, dear reader, there is nothing for us to fear other than fear itself. 

The EgoSelf may have trapped us in webs of illusion. Regardless of our actions, our GodSelf identity remains intact. The GodSelf has absolutely nothing to do with the human body or the events it constructs. We invest all our hope and dreams in this corpse, even though it is nothing more than a vehicle. 

You would never blame your Toyota Camry for the state of the world. Crazy as this statement may be. From the perspective of an individual who is free from illusion, it is equally insane to believe the start and end of who you are, is a 120-pound body limited to an 83-year lifespan. 

Time immemorial, humanity has been forced to play this game of life confined to a pseudo reality. Toiling under the illusion of separation, the human body bears countless scars. Convinced of our mortality we suffer the fear of loss, trembling in darkness. Hoodwinked and shackled by ignorance, we find ourselves mired in a bog so thick we seem utterly incapable of extrication. 

The EgoSelf, stealthily hiding in plain sight, invites us to play a rigged game. Like the blackjack table in our favourite casino, we want to believe the odds are even, yet, we cannot see the lights and liquor clouding our senses assures we will always lose.

I have learned to accept 'self' as the totality of all reality. By giving me the tools to redefine who I truly am, Antonio has offered a clear path beyond the many illusions spun by the EgoSelf. 

Trespassing past the limited boundaries of this physical plane, I have left my EgoSelf behind. Instead of living in fear, I choose to embrace my GodSelf identity. The evil I see in the world, I know is still a tangible part of the great "I AM". Although I may describe the evil and chaos in my world as distasteful, I can see it exists as an important reflection of my EgoSelf. 

This reflection compels me to seek knowledge, rise above illusion, then discover my GodSelf identity. May the EgoSelf continue to weave its webs, as each sticky pattern challenges me to strive toward a closer connection to the brilliance of GodSelf reality. 

Wake up Karen.... wake up.... wake up... it's time to go.

Karen: "I am awake now Antonio."

(Fifteen minutes later Karen is lying on the living room sofa, Spent, unable to move. Barely capable of speech, she looks into Antonio's eyes, then Karen utters a most profound and simplistic statement.) 

 "In Lak' ech brother Antonio, I am another you."

Antonio: (Knowing Karen had finally transcended the tyranny of her EgoSelf; Antonio replies in kind) 

"In Lak' ech sister Karen, I am another you."      

Karen: "I know you have to leave now Antonio. Tell me, will I ever see you again?"

Antonio: "Although we may never meet again Karen, I can see in your eyes, you now know we are not two separate beings. Much like light radiates from countless facets of a great diamond, we each shine with a unique and very individual perspective." 

"Each of us can learn to cherish our uniqueness, while at the same time, arrive at an understanding of self as a singularity. Truly Karen, we have never been, nor will we ever be, apart." 

(Antonio kisses Karen one last time. From her front porch she watches as Antonio walks down the driveway, disappearing in a familiar flash of blue light. Returning to the house, stars sparkling at her back, Karen reaches for the doorknob, a series of parting hoots echo from somewhere in the depth of the stately old Oak.) 

In Lak'ech, brethren... I am another you...

(My cat Spot wanted to make the contribution to the story     ooooooooooooooooooooooop89nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn)

Paradigms of Sport

Have you ever been to a professional hockey game?

Entering the arena seating area, an hour or so before the game, I am greeted by the fresh, invigorating, feel of cool air. The arena lies vacant, excepting the odd rabid fan hanging out near center ice. This quiet Colosseum of  open space fails to betray the imminent cacophony of 20,000 screaming hockey adherents, each, hell bent on seeing their team succeed in knocking the block off their hapless opponent.

Search high and low throughout the world, every community small and large, you will soon realise we humans seem incapable of living without the exhilaration of competition. This unidentified social disease filters through all corners of society; young or old, male or female, rich or poor, able bodied or disabled. If we are not personally participating, we are glued to a television vicariously living out our athletic dreams through the successes of our sports idols.

Do you feel the characterisation of sport as a social disease too strong a statement, off pace, or just sheer nonsense?

Possibly you are right, none the less, ponder the following assertions, feel free to stop me along the way if you determine my reason fails to hit the mark.

1. Competition: The root of all sport is competition.

2. Separation: Competition by it's very nature is an expression of separation.

3. Failure: In the world of competitive sport, the vast majority of participants fail to achieve their dreams.

4. Idolisation: Sport highlights a variable scale of strength and weakness, whereas strength is rewarded and weakness, if not hated, is at the very least, shunned.

5. Fear: Sport is all about keeping a detailed record of success and failure, this bookkeeping serves little purpose other than promoting feelings of inadequacy which are then converted into blocks of fear.

Competition: No one could argue the essence of sport is in fact competition. Have you ever stopped to think about the nature of competition? If you really think about it, you will notice each of us spend a great deal of time competing with others. It appears to me; competition represents an inescapable and integral core of social behaviour. Perhaps it is not too far a proposal to maintain that, as a species, we are incapable of escaping the clutches of competition.

Competition, in the mind of babies, begins the moment they realise they are not alone in the world. Baby will quickly notice the relationship between the attention and considerations of mom as they relate to his/her ability to coerce the mother's focus away from other tasks or from the needs of fellow siblings. To gain the attention of the mother, baby soon learns to develop fundamental skills related to the squeaky wheel law, or the law of reciprocity. Growing into the family environment; the toddler quickly becomes adept at competing for the attention of mother.

Moving beyond the home; our children are immediately immersed into a full blown agenda of forced competition. The child must compete for attention, good grades, social approval, sport and countless other manipulative structures of competitive control. Advancing into the teen years; we find the average child is completely entrapped by the systematic and relentless struggle to adapt, perform, and succeed. By the time our children leave high school competition has left an indelible mark of stress. Often, children must resort to prescription drugs to assist in the endeavor to maintain equilibrium. Enabling the psychotic drive for success is the constant reminder, in the game of life only the fittest competitors can survive. Part and parcel to the psychosis of competition is the tacit understanding that their sense of identity has become a function of how well they manage the rat race of control and domination. Those that fail, grow up feeling there is a capital letter "L" affixed to their forehead. Don't be a LOSER, no one will love you!

Is this the way we want our children to live?

Who can stop the insanity if not the parents?

Here lies the rub; the parents, having succumbed to the rat race wheel themselves, cannot see the wanton destruction foisted upon their children, nor can they illustrate a path toward sanity.

Many believe in the Darwinian ethos defining competition as the breeding ground for evolution, which, as we are incorrectly instructed, is a function of the natural law and order of the universe. For the vast majority who struggle to succeed; this Darwinian indoctrination creates unmanageable confusion in the developing minds of ourselves and our children. We have all been programmed to fail, when we do, we are taught failure equates to being a bad person. Accordingly; bad people are not deserving of love, kindness, or respect. Where does the cycle of competitive abuse end? For many children; it is a road that leads to alienation, feelings of uselessness, frustration, all resulting in an uncontrollable spiral into darkness which, in many cases, ends in suicide.

Separation: Competition, by the very nature of the exercise, is an expression of separation. If the scientific benchmark for embracing competition is Darwinian philosophy, then we need look no further than Napoleon Bonaparte to justify the staple of aggressive separation as artful warfare. The Napoleonic truism, co-opted from the Roman Empire, of "Divide and Conquer" is the basis for all competitive combative strategy. When at war, the most challenging opponent is one who stands united in a single endeavor; one heart, one mind, one steely blade. Unity is the undeniable trait of every successful army, divide the unity of a foe, and you are more than half way to executing their defeat.

Sports encourages separation in many different ways; sports leagues are pigeon holed into national, regional and city divisions. The teams themselves are further separated into lines ranging from the first string superstars to the fourth string wanna be's barely hanging on to their career. Within the structure of each team; objectives and goals are used to further divide the successful candidate or team, from the ineffectual. Sports writers and fans are constantly evaluating, praising, and or condemning, the benefits or drawbacks of every team and participant. Looking past professional sports to the minor leagues; we discover the same cookie cutter methodology of separation and evaluation affects all participants from little children in mini might divisions to the semi pro struggling on a AAA team with the hopes of one day breaking into the professional leagues.

Failure: Have you ever felt like you were designed to fail?
Each of us, with very few exceptions, are convinced we are failures. Even moderately great success can often be blanketed in feelings of despair, uncertainty, angst and unhappiness. Pick any sport, interview the person who is second best in the world, my guess is, more often than not, you will find a person locked in a quandary as to why he/she is not number one. We live in a world where winning is the only imperative, all else is considered abject failure. We have been weaned on feelings of inadequacy; we eat, live and breath failure. What else should this competitive environment produce other than weakness and unhappiness? This plague of failure entices all adherents to become consumed by thoughts, feelings and emotions highlighting a bleak undercurrent of desperation.

We seem to be never satisfied with our lot in life. Each gain is soon followed by the next goal; the process of clawing our way to the top is chock fill of interim victories that we never seem able to celebrate. "Keep your eye on the ball", "don't give up", "you can do better" are all platitudes used to steer us toward inevitable misery. Sport; whether participant or voyeur, is designed to leave you feeling like you are a loser. If you follow a favorite sports club, you don't need me to remind you that your team very rarely wins the big trophy at the end of the year. The average professional sports league has between thirty and forty teams, on any given year, only one will win the cup. Break it all down; you will quickly discover the entire realm of professional sport has been clearly designed to dis empower the individual.

Idolisation: Competitive sport assaults our individual and collective psyche on a plethora of levels; it is nigh on impossible to elaborate fully on the true destructive nature of it's domain. However sordid the damage; one of the most influential, painful, and debilitating affects sport has on society is realised when we ascribe talent with character. In the presence of successful people we seem easily confused into believing their status in life should somehow garner our respect, admiration, idolisation, and in some cases, love. Don't get me wrong; sports stars, business tycoons, administrators, any such ilk of successful people have, for the most part, worked hard to achieve their golden star in the Hillary notebook of life. In many cases, these celebrity stars, local heroes, the cream of the proverbial crop, have earned our respect and admiration. Such accolades bestowed upon the favoured should not be a function of their material success, rather we should look to admire their behaviour, if in fact characteristics like, dedication, integrity, love, respect and resourcefulness, prove to be the cornerstones of their existence.

Turning over  the coin to analyse how society perceives those who have not enjoyed material success, we soon realise there does exist a nasty double standard of love for the rich and hate for the poor. For the most part, when confronted with the down and out segment of society, we naturally feel uncomfortable in their presence. Our discomfort is no surprise when we take a moment to consider the effects of common adjectives like bum, deviant, criminal, nutter, druggie, psycho, thief, and vagrant, to name a few. Social media has indoctrinated into our psyche a set of adjectives specifically designed to encourage disrespect, fear, and hatred between the wealth classes. Prepared we are to solely gravitate toward successful characters in the hopes that we may either emulate their achievements, or at the very least, vicariously covet their gains. In such matters of human inter relations we seem to trespass beyond rationality as we use monetarism to cavalierly throw away the marginalised segment of the global population.

Humanity would serve itself well to empty it's useless toolbox of dysfunctional social assignations. We can, and desperately need to, seek out new social templates which will encourage us to respect, embrace and love all individuals, successful or impoverished, beautiful or disfigured, smart or intellectually challenged. Personal power comes from knowing our place as a loving, and loved, member of the global family does not come with mandated material caveats imposed by elite social miscreants hell bent on mass mind manipulation.

Sport the Benign Harbinger of Fear: 

Caught in the thrill of playing or watching sports we seem hard pressed to even glimpse the paradigms of fear which blanket the structure of all games. It appears to me like we are being pulled down a furiously exciting river raft adventure with no idea that just around the next corner deadly water falls await. Tumbling into the frothy void, we know not all will survive, but hey, that's okay, as long as I am a winner! Subtle coercion's, prickly infiltration's, steadily attacking our psyche go unnoticed by the rabid sport fanatics as their sense of justice is skewed by the manipulative social programming we call sport. The lines between war / sport, competition / domination, aggressiveness / abuse, justice / criminality, become blurred as we fixate on driving our competitive nature toward inane levels of social infidelity squarely directed against our less favoured brethren. Fear that we will not succeed, that we will become marginalised by our peers if we falter, fear that we must continue to struggle or certainly perish. How many goals are enough? How many opponents must we conquer? When, and who, will give us the permission to end this incessant race of rats? Am I successful yet? Do I have enough to be considered a winner? Have I earned your love?

Here lies the rub, I say again.... do you love me?

Careful consideration, compassion, tenderness, love, an embrace for the less fortunate, these are characteristics which will certainly make you a loser. There is no room for weakness, ill begotten mental portraits speaking to lift the spirit of our brethren will never frame the combative nature of sport. The weak are never loved, the poor are never admired, the ugly are never hugged, why?

There is room in sport to advance the social mindset of humanity. We can develop a competitive nature without the need to destroy each other. Sport can be used to teach us to work together for the mutual benefit of all players. We can use sport to draw from each other our finest attributes. This is all possible, but not until we begin to notice the many ways the elite pay masters, who run the slave machine we call society, control, dominate, and manipulate our minds. This social experiment we call democracy is really better defined as corporate enslavement. Fascism has bred contempt in the hearts and minds of the masses, we can stand up to the masters of industry and banking, we can define a new reality beyond the many subtle contrivances of manipulative indoctrination, but not until we open our eyes and wake up to the realisation that there is a bigger game afoot. They want us confused, they insist we see a reality other than what is truly present, the wizard stands hidden behind the curtain. Remember "1984" Orwell pointed to the beast.

      war is peace....
                                freedom is slavery....
                                                                 ignorance is strength...

In Lak'ech, dearest brethren, prosper with knowledge.... live with compassion.... united we love....