Dark Pool of Light, Volume Three, Chapter Seven, “The Cosmic Eternity System”

by Richard Grossinger on December 12, 2012

Chapter Seven

The Cosmic Eternity System

“The current Eternity System is rich and complex, startling and challenging, mystifying and elegant.”

—Ellias Lonsdale1

“Imagine that not only does your soul withdraw into itself, but that all souls likewise withdraw, and in withdrawing, dissolve into a single over-soul that now recedes into its own inner deeps, the ancient taproot of creation. All is perishing except His Face.

“Reality holds its breath. All is still and silent. Life lives, but without any sign. The Earth was without form, and void.

“Sunk deep in unity, the One engulfs in its abyss the shimmering wealth of all that ever was and all that ever will be. Obsidian and jade, tropical waterfalls and Olympian peaks, the attar of roses, wild honey, herds of aurochs, hieroglyphs and cantos, cathedrals and soup kitchens, melancholy, mirth, the Aurora Borealis and the Pleiades, the reveries of teeming worlds beyond number—all these are present and yet absent. Absent because there is no witness. Darkness was on the face of the deep.”

—Pir Zia Inayat Khan2

“The universe is a divine play of phenomena. To humans those phenomena appear to be separate; we seem to have the experience that there’s a ‘me’ and a ‘not-me.’ That’s an illusion. Everything is interdependent with everything else. Everything arises in oneness, and every apparently discrete package is merely that: apparently discrete.”

—John Friedlander3

“He will not merely rule the universe; he will also be the universe.”

—Philip K. Dick4

i. Cosmic Eternity as Unified Field Theory*

Before we sail into this chapter, let’s take a deep breath. I know, the book is already more than a few breaths deep. But this is a mystery universe, and our path is via consciousness—not the objects of consciousness (though them too) but consciousness itself.

We will never have a map for reality in the way we have Google Earth. Reality as consciousness cannot be represented in reality as matter. But that doesn’t mean it is not real or “scientific.” This is my basic refrain.

In order to assay reality, we need science. That should be obvious.We need everything that science has to tell us about moleculo-atomic structure, electromagnetic and gravitational fields, the organization of biological form, and the flow of information through neurons—these are esoteric as well as secular truths, sacraments above and beyond their liturgically inflated presentation by their own priests. They are the operating system.

 

*You can read sections ii through x of this chapter in whatever order you want. There is no entry point to a circle that originates everywhere and nowhere, as there is no beginner’s level to a system that is turning inside out at every hruck and knothole.

 

 

 

For science to function or even emerge from the mists of unsignified existence, all subjective filters must be removed or disengaged; objective mind must encounter objective reality through the transparency of pure measurement and the neutrality of egoless witness. This means no universe except its own tangible physical map. But that’s also the minimum baseline for ascertaining where we are and what’s going on, for getting out of a perplexing jungle of cries and appearances.

No other way—you have to separate the explicit from the implicit, the deduced flow of energy and matter (turning handaxes into thermo-dynamics) from the induced flow of meaning (turning scapulimancy into signification)—but that doesn’t mean that the world will tell you anything more than that something is happening (rather than nothing) and it is wrapped around its own mechanism snug as a glove.

The display format is pretty much as science calls it: a set of anomalies generating a temporal fortuity from the atomic properties of molecules, the molecular properties of cells, the cellular properties of tissues, the matrices of tissues underlying vertebrate underlying mammalian under-lying primate socio-symbolic acts. But the universe is also a direct emanation. It is disclosed through ordinary experience interpreted by trained inquiry: formal meditation, shamanic induction, aesthetic mimesis, divine petition. To project an abeyant shape into a “rose” is to ask it to become what it is. Yet to exist at all is to be projected by the universe into such an icon or thoughtform. Existence is revelation: a rose. There were always twin ways for humans to divine the universe and our presence in it. Even Stone Age hunters knew that: men and women of action and men and women of contemplation—bump at it or reflect it, assay it or hex it, Coyote–man and Robin-man.*

Objective consciousness maps the apparent universe by its propensity for durable and self-repeating emanations. Subjective consciousness maps  everything else.

 

*See Paul Radin, Primitive Man as Philosopher (New York: Dover Books, 1955), pp. 238–256.

 

 

 

 

 

For all the vaunted chains of neurons, sockets, and monitoring modules, there is no scientific theory of consciousness worth the name (see Volume One on that one). Scientists may build models of mind and write formulas without remainders, and there is plenty of scuttlebutt about how the nervous system and brain work, how we make decisions, initiate actions, and run cognition grids, but no—even hypothetical—way to turn matter inside-out and illuminate it from within, no way to get the city inside the acorn, to originate the damn thing’s glow inside its own mechanical contraption, to explain even how nerves really work. No matter how resolutely the experts gyrate, it can’t be done. The universe (or meaning) is too comprehensive, and the brain is too morphological and literal. Just try sizing reality down to a neuron or even a fat fur-ball of synapses.

Science has no inroad whatsoever to anything that can’t be measured or counted, while consciousness has zero quantitative basis. Neural behavioral maps, electroencephalograms, and ablated circuits in lab cats don’t constitute real measurements of consciousness in the way that everything else under science can be submitted to metrics. However tight we squeeze nanometers through the mind-matter barrier, there remains an uncrossable bumpless region between bodies and thoughts.

For that matter, how does a mind—or my mind, or “I”—know which neurons to affect in order to do what I want to do? There would have to be some sort of subliminal sub-mind that tracked physiological networks scrupulously, got its orders from the “conscious” mind, and then faithfully carried them out. But that sub-mind would need its own sub-mind, and we’d be well on our way down Infinite Regress Highway, which is the Highway to Nowhere, Zip Code 99901.

If you were a scientist and somehow put all the nuts and bolts, levers and pulleys, circuits and switches together tantamount to creating a credible, metabolizing cyborg or even a motivated robotic mouse, how would you click it on and, if it turned itself on automatically, where would the effective bump come from? What would that bump contribute, what would elicit it, and how would it recognize its own possibility and then install itself in the rest? And I don’t mean “install” any differently from how electricity installs itself in thunderclouds and power lines. How does a golem mouse (or man) take on an identity and embark on its human or rodent mission?

Okay, let’s finally call a spade a spade: consciousness is not located in the brain. I stand on this point unconditionally. I do not deny that neurons and mind are joined at the hip—evolutionarily, developmentally—but consciousness as a stream of phenomenological shit in which an objective reality is mirrored is something else altogether. It has a different ontological basis from the nervous system or the brain, and it operates otherwise, probably throughout the universe, without need of them. Science does not know how to cross the bumpless zone, not even close.

Consciousness’s “awareness” property is elicited by nervous systems and brains probably because it is already in the mix—“we” are already there; we exist somehow at large, prior to experiment—as identity, as agency. In fact, the flow of synaptic data into the brain is more likely the result rather than the cause of consciousness. Ignoring this telepathic super-highway is a joke, a misnomer, and science’s catchall sleight of mind.

There cannot be a unified astrophysical field theory without a theory of mind, and likewise there cannot be a theory of mind without inclusion in a unified field theory of space and substance for, without phenomenology, where would you begin to look for meaning’s as well as matter’s thread? And meaning has to have a thread because, after all, it’s here.

Though there cannot be a theory of matter without the inclusion of mind, where (again) would you attach one to the other? We lack even a unified field theory of space-time or matter by their lonesomes.

No comprehensive theory means no place wherein to attach consciousness—so no theory of matter means no theory of mind.

And it’s not as though there is a higher court of appeal for this stuff. There isn’t a context, let alone a structure, within physics that neuroscientists and biologists can jointly petition for redress or a yardstick to which they can even hypothetically affix mindedness or materiality, let alone enlist to officiate over a shotgun wedding. Movement toward one absolute wall is as good as toward another, and none of the walls, in this room anyway, are promising (or, finally, walls).

For starters, we don’t know what gravity is. “Does,” yes; “is,” unh-uh! Think about it: a scientist can’t do gravity. The stuff holding you to the Earth, the djinn propelling the Earth around the Sun, keeping the Sun compressed together in a blaze, the big oomph itself, is a total ringer. Plus there is no smoking gun tying it to either thermodynamics or entropy; they are like separate governments pretending to rule the same polity under different laws. Then quantum entanglement and superposition rule the identical polity under even less plausible laws and without heat’s verifiable basis, while strings and superstrings fail utterly at anchoring their own bottom rung. They are all drifting in one another’s contextlessness.

It takes slamming protons into each other head-on at relativistic speeds (i.e., close to the activation of light) to get even a glimpse of the Higgs boson or the original sticky nest of matter—its purported building blocks plus the twenty-three percent that went missing into superparticles (dark matter, dark intelligence) at the beginning of time—not to mention the possibility of composite quarks or the infinite mass of empty space and its “vacuum catastrophe.” It is a series of tautologies running into other tautologies as well as into its own paradoxes, oxymorons, and quantum uncertainty states.

A universe of matter, which presents itself solely through mindedness, is infinitely dense and utterly transparent at the same time—so it is as unmeasurable as it is undeniable.

In the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, speculative physicists and science-fiction authors have floated field theories to unify metaphysical and physical realities. Try these: 1. A parallel universe next to ours (hidden mass) has formed in a four-dimensional bubble and continues to impose itself here as gravity and dark matter. 2. When stars collapse, their black holes torsion matter through a wormhole (an Einstein-Rosen bridge) into white holes that shoot it into a different universe where it bubbles up as if from nowhere, so that the Big Bang forming this entire set-up may be mere discharge from the white hole of a collapsing star. 3. Billion-year-old civilizations are sending gamma-wave signals to us from another universe at the edges of our own space-time. 4. After anti-matter and matter annihilated each other a long time ago, we formed in shreds left by the götterdämmerung. 5. Every atomic configuration here, including you and me, repeats somewhere else in infinite space-time.

All these theories consider that 6. our universe is not a conventional all-inclusive universe but one aspect of a Multiverse, so the Big Bang may not be an originary explosion but one of many “Big Bangs,” each creating a discrete continuum, each with its own laws.

Even so, science provides no waiver whatsoever for consciousness in its unified field theories because, of course, how could it if it doesn’t even know what it is? Insofar as mind is officially the sum of trillionfold quantum–synaptic calculations, it is never going to make it through a wormhole, black hole, white hole, cosmic bubble, or umbilical cord between parallel universes anyway. Consciousness is circumstantial, finite, eminently disposable. I would consider this one exception: perhaps the primordial ground luminosity of Big Mind is what ignited the Big Bang in the first place, gave it its intrinsic radiance, and bound light in a molten ball. Then it was distributed with matter into the expanding elasticity of three-dimensionality. Behind the material universe is a nonmaterial universe.

I want to take a shot at an alternative unified field theory to those of particle physics and astrophysics, the potpourri informally codesigned by Werner Heisenberg, Niels Bohr, Albert Einstein, Steven Weinberg, Stephen Hawking, Freeman Dyson, Michio Kaku, Nikodem Poplawski and the boys. Of course I am not constrained like them by laws of mathematics and physics, so I have a much easier task; still I can’t just make stuff up or throw together any old hand-me-downs and contrivances; you wouldn’t find that believable or interesting. What I say has to be rooted in parity at the depth and complexity of an actual system, not only sufficient but necessary, and address (as well) the existential situation in which we find ourselves: the condition of having to be wherever we are, no matter what is happening to us there. It has to be both metaphysical and physical, Swedenborgian and Einsteinian.

During Q&A after reading a few sections from a draft of this book (Boulder, Colorado, April 13, 2012), I was asked by a guy in the audience if I thought matter and spirit were separate things. I paused briefly, smiling at the absurdity of answering, then said simply, “No.”

Everyone laughed, so he changed his question: “Do you think that matter came before spirit or spirit before matter or did both occur at the same time?”

To that I said, “Well, if I had to choose, I would say, ‘Both at the same time,’ but as soon as I said that, I would be faced with the fact that it was presumptuous and false and the other possibilities were equally true in their way. Matter first, spirit first, both together?—it’s not any of them because the moment you choose one, you realize that something else you have excluded by your answer is demanding equal time. It is matter before spirit, of course, and spirit before matter, of course, and both at the same time too, of course.”

A few questions later another man asked, “Do you think we are inside the forward flow of time or is everything really happening at once?”

“Same question as that other one,” I offered. “I think that everything is happening at once, but clearly that is not true because, well, here we are, demonstrably in a time-line and moving linearly one swift way. So, what we have to do is explain how everything could be happening at once and yet we could still be inside a flow of time. We have to make it so that everything happening at once can occur in such a way that it also feels like this, that it is embedded uniquely and discretely as well in a chronological belt. And the only way to do that is to move toward exactly what time feels like to you rather than an abstract epiphany of timelessness. The simple and indisputable circumstance of being in time, of being born into tick-tock, is what it feels like right now to you. That is the key, because by feeling it consciously and expansively, you begin to develop a sensation of time’s timelessness. The paradox is, that by trying to feel its actual timelessness, you only experience the drumbeat of time, even more readily. It’s all a paradox, but the resolution of that paradox is living the precise complication that it is.”

Okay, for starters, why call it a Cosmic Eternity System? Why not just an Eternity System? An Eternity System transcends cosmic ghettoization. It is by far the more accurate designation.

I have tried the slicker name several times but always abandoned it and set it back the way it was, (one) because a “Cosmic” frame sets the Eternity System in cosmological space, parallel to the astrophysical field theories cited above; (two) because it draws our attention to the transgalactic sky; and (three) because it grounds us in the physical cosmos of Copernicus, Kepler, Galileo, et al.

So where in Sam Hell are we? That is, where are we located relative to anything or everything else? And where is the semblance (that we cling to so fundamentally, absolutely, and tenaciously) located?

The other night (October 8, 2011) I was invited to a young friend’s birthday party in a backyard in Oakland. These are very sentient people, but they are also foodies and involved in the restaurant business so they decided to roast a whole pig on a spit over a fire. From any standpoint it was a graphic presentation. The animal’s body had already turned into edible pork, but it was attached to landmarks of independent life and spirit: its teeth, toe-nails, and dead eyes reflecting the flames made the truth inescapable. As sunlight was slowly extinguished, fire more than sky illuminated the backyard—fire and the glistening pig. A few stars were visible beside a bright, near-full moon. The event wasn’t only pagan and primitive; it was transubstantiational. The body-shape and residue of the pig were being transubstantiated, but so were we. Offhandedly someone remarked on the similarity of the pig to Christ nailed to the cross, but no one seconded the motion.

I couldn’t find a way to get comfortable with the roasting pig except to go right at it. I took its vibration up above my crown chakra as high into the planes of consciousness as I could. I didn’t count tiers; I just opened to a shift and jumped.

There I saw it, not so much against life on Earth, against humanity, or even against the stars as against everything that is anything. Only there did the roasting body of the pig fit and adjudicate itself with grace, integrity, or hope. Only there did it have a fallback position that didn’t indict the universe for this outcome.

The Cosmic Eternity System is quintessentially about this: what is happening couldn’t possibly be what it seems. What it seems either leads nowhere and is nothing, or leads everywhere while contradicting itself at every portal. Either way, it is impossible and uninhabitable—as much for magpies and hornets as for us. Just look around.

Well, nature must be filled with something, so here it is: mist, fires, wind tunnels, gaps, pivots, surf, tornados, dances, elections, wars, World Cups, online dating. Each stands for something, even stuff that makes no sense at all: the exorbitant, the cavalier, the wanton, the vicious, the shabby, the degenerate, the sadistic, the vandalistic, the inconstant.

But then again, if it is not what it seems, it is not happening—so it is not a problem. It is habitable because its unlikeliness doesn’t stop us from being here and getting the job done.

The Cosmic Eternity System in all of its richness, vastness, and surprise is the only thing that gets us out of our trap—our trap of identity, our trap of neurosis, our trap of impending death, our trap of enlightenment, our trap of ennui, our trap of every lockdown theory of the universe (scientific or religious).

Only the Cosmic Eternity System provides a clue as to what we are going to do with the cosmos’s shitload of absolute time and space—to say nothing of pure existential reality, to say nothing.…

“Ding dong bell/Pussy’s in the well./Who put her in?”

I am as clueless as you, so like Heraclitus’s god whose oracle is still at Delphi, I shall neither reveal nor conceal but henceforth speak in riddles.

Little Johnny Green, indeed!

ii. Cosmic Eternity as UFO Drama

The UFO phenomenon is a classic instance of an oracle speaking only in riddles—Carl Jung’s “modern myth of things seen in the skies.” These undesignated objects straddle a boundary between apparent extraterrestrial engineering and suppositious interdimensionality.

In 2012 James Gilliland is the man at the helm of UFO central; check out the documentary on him (Contact Has Begun) produced by John Savage. Gilliland has assembled the most vivid, convincing photographic evidence cum eye-witness testimony vis à vis UFOs I have come across, short only (perhaps) of those fractal Mandelbrot-set and insectogram crop circles (if cereological formations are indeed alien messages in grains). He ties the ontological and spiritual dimension of UFOs to the phenomenological experience and enigmatic appearance of them.

Gilliland’s life has been shaped by two major near-death experiences, the first as a five-year-old in the hospital with bronchial pneumonia, the second after a triple dunking by a twenty-five-foot soaker wave while cornered with his buddies on a sand bar in Little Corona, California. The five-year-old’s mother was told by her doctor that her son might not make it through the night, but the boy was taken, while asleep, to a zone between worlds by a woman dressed in blue with electric blue eyes. Emanating benign, healing energy, she stroked his head and fed him a substance with the look and texture of ice cream that wasn’t cold. She told him that it would get him better—and “it” did.5

Some twenty-five years later, while drowning in a wall of water, Gilliland sailed down a tunnel of light, blasted through its ceiling, and emerged on a golden plane of bliss where he encountered a massive Intelligence that engaged him in kōans about the nature of life and free will. He awoke in a pool of water with someone yelling his name, the last words of the entity fading in his skull: “As you wish.” That was Consciousness’s basic answer to every question he asked—though the superficial wording changed each time. The response concerned his destiny, how to get back to the zone of bliss. But it also expressed our overall relationship to karma and being. It was not a simple transmission.6

Gilliland was living in Santa Cruz back then, but he sensed the Loma Prieta Earthquake coming and wanted to get out ahead. He knew he had a mission elsewhere, and he drew a clear vision of where it was going to take place: up north in Yakima country beside a snow-covered mountain. He had to match a landscape to his vision before he could undertake a sanctuary. Then by luck or guidance he located the prophetic replica near Mount Adams, in Trout Lake, Washington, a site of intense UFO activity since pre-Columbian times.

The acronym of Gilliland’s ECETI Ranch taunts the imperious SETI (Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence) with the more reverential and seraphic Enlightened Contact with Extraterrestrial Intelligence. For the first six years on site he studied, meditated, did yoga, and took hundreds of hours of video of objects in the heavens as well as purported pursuits of them by military jets and black helicopters. “That’s the cheapest camera you can buy,” he bragged playfully regarding his success with the low-tech equipment he could afford then, “and we’ve totally outgunned NASA and SETI. Totally outgunned them!”7

For sixteen years (up to 2012), Gilliland and his team interacted repeatedly with Mount Adams’s celestial orbs and their purported occupants. “We don’t watch TV up there,” he quips, “we watch UFOs.”8

On one occasion, a communication came directly into his head, a beautiful transmission, he recalled, about love, universal peace, individual freedom, the abundance of nature, and the evolution of the human race. When he telepathically asked the voice where it was coming from, it said, “The fifth and sixth dimensions are what we are working in, but we’re actually coming from a ship.”9 That was a bizarre proposition even for Trout Lake so, concluding that his imagination was running amok, he headed straight outdoors to get himself grounded by planting trees. He hadn’t reached the front door when his two sisters, running and shouting, met him on the way in: “You see it? You see it? There’s a ship!” In fact, there was an entire UFO array over the building.10

On another occasion three gold balls of energy lifted him out of his bathtub to a golden plasma ship. There he was greeted by beings resembling the human races combined. They identified themselves as the Orion Council of Light. One of them, offering her name as Melia, told him that her headdress held a technology by which all of his memories would be returned to him; then suddenly he felt its zap and recalled a string of past lives and off-world experiences.11 A modern myth of the skies, indeed!

It is possible that the Greys of alien-abduction lore as well as other visitors to the Earth, no matter what star systems they identify as their home ports, are coming across Astral and higher planes rather than through interstellar space, which would make their capacities distinctly different from hypothetical beings who master faster-than-light travel in order to get here in a mortal time frame. Bigfoot, as well as those goat-eating, hairless, coyote-like chupacabras in Hood County, Texas, and diverse creatures of Fortean and cryptozooid pedigree likewise pop in and out of ordinary semblance—they too could be plane-travelers rather than either aliens or holdouts from prehistory.

In principle, there is no interstellar travel in the universe divorced from interdimensional travel. From here to any other star system is way too far for bodily relocation, even at the speed of light. No one wants travel times of twenty-two years each way. Sound is even slower—no soap, no radio. But grain patterns, for example, are immediate greetings in rebuses that might come through quantum-entangled wave- and pattern-generators in other solar systems. Crop circles simply appear in a gust of air and a ball of light and, no, Doug Bower, Dave Chorley, and their hoaxer buddies and imitators didn’t make all of them on every continent.

Those well-funded SETI scopes are probably beamed on frequencies too rectilinear, literal, and turgid for folks dispatching stuff Earthwards.

If there were truly alien bodies in a wreck at Roswell, New Mexico (as per conspiracy theories and the controversial “alien autopsy” film that made the rounds in the 1990s, later declared not entirely a hoax but a reconstruction of an actual film of a Roswell dissection), one still has to ask how those creatures hauled their intact asses across the light years to be dissectible (vis à vis two hearts, green blood, six fingers, and whatever). I would propose that if people living in other star systems are coming to Earth on the physical, astronomical plane, they have extremely advanced light-spectrum electronics and engineering methods for first getting torus-based saucers onto interdimensional tracks before propelling them across the interstellar grid. These vehicles are operating at an unknown level of not only technology but cosmology. That’s why they look like solid objects, leave metallic debris, and disburse apparent exobiological entities but otherwise don’t perform like shuttles.

As they power down over the Trout Lake property, UFOs morph into double and triple and quadruple gadgets and then fuse back up into singularities.* They make right-hand turns at ridiculous speeds. They explode in balls of light and then reappear. “One of the ships we’ve filmed is just beautiful,” Gilliland enthused. “It’s actually pink in the middle, has blue on the outside, turquoise at the top and the bottom. And you see these rotating fields on this ship and it’s pulsing like a heart.”12

Nothing known to physics behaves in this manner except perhaps subatomic particles. If (again) these manifestations are brick-and-mortar vehicles, they apparently navigate through folded tunnels (wormholes in space) or by raw information transfer. Millions if not billions of years ahead of us in their technology, they don’t have to cross the unnavigably long distances between galaxies and solar systems; they appear when and where they choose by instantaneous information transfer, bypassing time as we grok it.

 

*On a psychic level, stones and crystals keep their spiritual identity while stepping emanations up or down as they are fissioned into smaller stones.

 

 

 

 

UFOlogists claim that there are two types of aliens. Menial, low-level Greys and their fellow antipathetic ETs mutilate cattle, abduct folks, put implants in them, and trade advanced technologies with governments for those privileges. They also unintentionally leave junk behind at crash sites, either way to be stripped and back-engineered by terrestrials into hard drives, fiber optics, computer chips, lasers, microwave generators, first and foremost for military application. According to the insider scuttlebutt, the Greys don’t have our own highest good or best interests at heart, as their own vibes of weaponry, war, and social control align all too well with ours, making for collusion at a National Security Agency/Pentagon level. That’s “conspiracy theory” legend by now.

According to many UFOlogists, the world’s governments and armed forces have known for decades that corrupt aliens are operating here with impunity, and they have done business with them. Then, under a shroud of secrecy, they enacted a SETI/NASA diversionary charade, even kicking some of their own officers out of the loop (to spout bona fide denials). The result is a public mindset in which well-intentioned leakers only make themselves targets of ridicule and jeopardize their careers, while the “average Joe” citizenry relegates all testimony to a weirdness bin of blue or green men—urban and other legends. Anyway that’s the tortuous UFOlogy party line.

Then there are the good guys—fellow humanoids: androgynous, angelic, spiritually advanced, here to conduct us into the evolving family of worlds and spirits.

Could diametric tiers of aliens—beings of darkness and beings of light, interstellar craft and interdimensional craft, incarnate folks in spaceships and psychic mirages of incarnate folks—be converging on our planet beneath media parody and cover-up?

And what to make of Gilliland? He routinely says stuff like, “That’s one of those Andromedan ships! Look how you can see through the middle. That’s because it’s interdimensional. You hear that? The coyotes are going crazy. They always do that when the big ships fly over!”13 The big ships, yeah!

In the Savage documentary, he exclaims, “Got two ships coming in. I’ve got ’em both. They’re both powered up. Holy smokes, they’ve got both of ’em powered up! Whoo! Whoo-hoo-hoo! Whoo-hoo! Got ’em. Two ships. A double, powered up. Whoo-hoo! Look at that!”14 It’s Cirque du Soleil meets Terence McKenna.

On another occasion he exults, “Check him out, man. He’s goin’. You should see the field around this guy. I’ve got him all the way. Holy shit, this guy is big. That thing is huge. Whoa, he’s lightin’ up! There it goes! Thank you.15

But James is no mere New Age novice or “up in smoke” dude. He received Teaching of the Inner Christ authorization from Anne Porter Remington’s El Cajon church, which channels a host of ascended masters in addition to Jesus and Babaji, and he earned a Rigdzin Norbu (“Jewel of Pure Awareness”) certificate from the Tibetan Foundation. Spiritual teachers of different persuasions have validated his capacity to channel and travel on higher planes.

I sense that this guy is for real in a way that we have to understand in order to budge not only the UFO mystery but the other, deeper mystery that it shrouds. Yet JGill is also a surfer dude right out of David Milch’s John from Cincinnati or as played by John Travolta in Pulp Fiction in his UC/Santa Cruz banana-slugs T-shirt. In the words of Milch’s surfer kid Shaun, “That is sick!” Zippy the dead parakeet had just come back to life under his hand. Well, ditto Gilliland’s powered-up flotillas and gold orbs. Sick! (in the best and baddest sense). It’s either one rad cosmic wave or another: cowabunga; ‘surf the night sky’—soakers or saucers—wipeout either way. Observe what is happening to you, right now.

This is the way the Earth is operating; physicists and corporate execs, lamas and priests are not the ones in the UFO know. By their own mysterious yardstick, extraterrestrials and interdimensionals choose the most unlikely individuals for close encounters of the third kind on up: for starters Gilliland, Whitley Strieber, Jim Moroney, Betty and Barney Hill.

The cartoon has become the reality, while reality is now a shapeshifting cartoon. As their tropes overlap and camouflage each other, they point to the one pathway we have been neglecting, to a basic paradox we have been reading at the wrong level through all our false hierarchies. After glimpsing the fringes of a system populated by entities of different composition and dimensionality from us, in our future as well as our past, and based in cosmic prototype DNA, Gilliland comes to his own conclusion. If you listen beyond his words, at the tone and implication, and to the fact that we are here now, comprehending the shell Universe and the Divine both, you almost get it:

“There’s at least eleven dimensions out there beyond this dimension. And you look at all the diversity of life in just this dimension alone and add ten more dimensions to that, you can imagine what’s out there. And if you look at just this physical universe we’re in with 200 billion suns with planets revolving around them, and now they know that there are 500 billion galaxies out there with the same effect—just this little dimension we’re in alone—the diversity of life here is beyond imagination.… And whole new galaxies and universes are being created daily.”16

Wow! Gazing into the deeply radiant luminosity of galaxies through telescopes, we are looking at the edge of an interdimensional field inhabited by intelligent beings of diverse natures and tempers and wisdoms.

Or we are looking at something even more radical and transformative than entities and dimensions, beyond where mathematics and physics bottom out. We are gazing into the Eye of Creation.

Surfer talk or mother lode? Your call again, reader.

Some or all of the following may be true and to differing and contradictory degrees:

• There are UFOs and they are exactly as proposed by the people logging them. Their physical presence has been verified by numerous air traffic controllers, airline pilots, fighter pilots, and Air Force base commanders, who know what they’re seeing and flat-out confirm that these are ships from other worlds with highly advanced technologies. They show up as legitimate objects on radar.

• UFOs are not only physically real, the craft of technologically advanced beings, but millennia ago these same entities (i.e., their ancestors) terraformed the Earth and crafted us, bioengineering their own DNA in terrestrial animals, then left us to develop by free will at our own pace. These were the biblical cherubim of Ezekiel 1:4–28, bursting out of immense clouds of flashing light, landing with the sound of rushing water, striding with mixed countenances of human and beast. They spoke like thunder, and left behind relics with the appearance of wheels intersecting wheels. Perhaps they traveled back periodically to check out their experiment.

In that case they also “visited” other ancient peoples, including the Dogon to whom they loquaciously described their own base in the double-star system of Sirius (a bit show-offy if you ask me). Centuries later in the 1940s these north African tribal people informed anthropologist Marcel Griaule of the approximate orbital periods of Sirius A and B about each other and also “revealed” rings around Saturn and moons accompanying Jupiter. Synchronicity or hoaxed anachronism?

• There are no UFOs, and these appearances represent an assortment of hallucinations, scams, misappropriations, mass hysterias, myths, and occasional conscious outbursts of collectively unconscious archetypes.

• UFOs are psychoids or spirits with an incomplete hybrid existence. Or they are “screen” dramas of something beyond our comprehension.

• Some ghostlike UFOs may be dead people traveling in conscious but disembodied states before they resolve their own remainder energy into its next metamorphosis. At the cessation of metabolism and breath, these beings wriggled up their spines and blasted out of their bodies imperfectly and with unresolved karma into makeshift orbs—semi-materialized tulpas. They are transdimensional fireflies now, plasma entities on the move under a greater law.

• Unidentified flying orbs are nonphysical objects from other dimensions, ultradimensional energies charging up and then discharging down through our range.

• UFOs are our own collective, Serios-like thoughtographic projections of a genre not yet categorized. Just how collective and thoughtographically objectified they are was demonstrated by flotillas of hundreds of individual ships parading unabashedly over Madrid, Beijing, and Mexico City as if they belonged there.

• UFOs are transdimensional delegations assessing our spiritual progress and, conversely, our present danger to the universe. Nuclear war ending life here could well impact life forms on other dimensions.

• UFOs are Etheric and other higher-plane energies, taking on the status of saucer-like alchemical manifestations, as they power up with bursts of golden light and then step down, not into ordinary metals but something that responds like living material.

• UFOs are orgone, an energy Wilhelm Reich discovered under other circumstances, whose malignant mode he tried to shoot out of the sky with guns drawing on the same enigmatic source. Sound familiar? Good UFOs transmit spirituality and sacred light, while malevolent ones transmit disease and enslave humankind. To one man the UFO enigma is primordial galactic nectar and cosmic eros (plus its deadly radioactive antithesis); to another it is the transmission of a high Intelligence and its Grey Satanic Antipode.

• The borderline imaginal experiences that bring UFOs into being are not what they seem or elicit in us but replicas and semblances of experiences we need in order to enter the actual Eternity System.

• Our subpersonalities and superpersonalities converge in unidentified celestial objects.

It doesn’t matter. We have to leave UFOs behind with their keepers. Neither they nor crop circles are going to resolve any time soon—unless they do, and it’s not that state of world at the moment; the vanguard surf of Aquarius’s carrier wave is at least forty years offshore. In the meantime we have harbingers—harbingers plenty, harbingers only.

iii. Cosmic Eternity as View

While the Cosmic Eternity System includes our particular incarnational system, it is not limited to it. Clairvoyants tell us that most Souls spend the greater part of their individuated existence in less dense vibrations than this one. Habitable worlds need not be spherical planets rotating on axes and orbs with atmospheres revolving around sun-stars; they can be all sorts of other things at varying degrees of sublimity or materiality. Each contingent realm in All That Is arises as it must from its own propensities and organizing principles, which seem quite substantial, satisfying, and tenable to its inhabitants, for they and their landscapes are generated at the same appetite of attention. We are tuned to our own incarnation’s clear channel, as we dwell in the city of its broadcast.

We have zero notion what sort of overall universe this is or, for that matter, what it is a universe in—in what kind of mansion (or Multiverse) it is a chamber. We germinate as properties of vibrating strings (subatomic particles in energy states), much as the mansion itself does. Change the frequency of the mansion (the atomicities), and a different reality arises. Under other predilections, we would coalesce in different rooms or even a different mansion. In order for an illusion to stabilize itself, it has to destroy and threaten to destroy everything else: Thou Shalt Have No Other Reality Before Me.

While this universe may be vivid and all-encompassing to us, other zones and modes of reality are just as vivid, “real,” and stable to their denizens. Though different from ours in material and conceptual ways, they read to them exactly as this one does to us: “home sweet home.” Each is a discrete frequency, and everything there is oscillating at its note. Life is normal: pleasures just as pleasurable, contentions just as contentious, pain just as ouch. The same phenomenology made out of different stuff is generating equivalences of events, some at a higher, purer vibration than what goes on here, some (yes) lower, more insectile or lizardlike.

A less material plane and universe would not represent exile from carnal existence if its mentation and space-time are vibrating at the same frequency. It would hold the same myriad possibilities for experience and happiness and variety; it would operate along a continuum that might or might not be characterizable as Time. It would feel just as thick, rich, and solid as this one does to us and would support existence’s myopias and peccadillos in much the same fashion.

If you yourself should awake without warning in a different body, like the giant insect of Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis, you’d buy into that state too. You’d have to; you’d have nowhere else to go (or not go). Its neural nets would pump your brain full of its hallucinogenic juices.

A pupa lives as a caterpillar for a while, then stops eating, attaches itself to a branch, folds into its own existence, forms a new cocoon, draws on a different genome cached in its DNA, then reinvents itself as a butterfly—all while doing nothing, planning nothing, imagining itself as the center of the universe and the only thing in that universe. At each phase, each instar between molts, it knows what it is and where it is and that it is—beyond representation or representational mind.

The intelligence of its rune infuses it and keeps it on track.

Our life-and-death cycle is one frame within All That Is, the one that constitutes our present view. “A human consciousness is to be treasured,” John Friedlander notes, “not because it’s the only platform … but because it’s a magnificent experience in the dance of consciousness.”17

Creatures buy into each bardo and bardo-like state, in turn, hook, line, and sinker. They allow themselves to get “caught” in its vibration. Their insertion into its landscape is all-inclusive. When they go to sleep or into trance, they shift to a different octave of its clear channel. When they awake, they return to its default station. Yes, “a magnificent experience in the dance of consciousness,” but no, not the only magnificence or the only dance.

As long as we keep waking up to the same reality, we don’t balk or protest its basis as if to say, “This is just a dream. I’m not going to believe it anymore.” During any lucid dream-state we recognize that we have no choice but to continue performing as oneself in the scene at hand. If we tried to flee the dream, we would only become another creature in another dream.

If (for argument’s sake) you were a physicist in such a dream, you wouldn’t be able to peer beyond the dreamwork to its source, no matter what sort of microscope or telescope your colleagues developed. Well, this world is just a thicker, more durable vapor.

But, remember, there’s an up-side too: If consciousness is real, it is never merely destroyed; it either changes frequency or returns to its own larger field.

When consciousness ceases being personal, it just is.

We may not be real, but it is real so, if we borrow its basis in order to become us, we are real too.

Whether the butterfly is the same creature-being as the caterpillar, or is sentient enough to have an opinion on the matter or to witness its own metamorphosis, let alone chart its continuity, is beside the point. In the grand scheme of things we know about as much regarding our own circumstance as the pupa. We feed where we are. The caterpillar-cum-butterfly too.

“Somehow ‘the caterpillar’ knows how to get to ‘the leaf.’ And then the caterpillar gets served by nature in that it begins to alter itself into a cocoon. And it is being gifted by the energy systems. It is being served as a caterpillar and then the service continues.”18 These are the words of a self-declared 250,000-soul multi-personhood represented by Blinded Eagle, a seventeenth-century Pequot Indian sage, hosted by Earthgirl Kimmie Ross as a composite entity calling itself Nommy:

Because we don’t say to the caterpillar, “Can you tell us how you make that happen?”

And the caterpillar would say, “I just do.”

“Well that’s not enough information for us. Why do you?”

“I just do. Man, that’s what caterpillars do.”

“But how do you know when to?”

“I just do. I don’t answer when.”

“Well, how do you know where?”

“I just do. I wouldn’t pick any old leaf. It’s got to be ‘the leaf,’ you know.”

“And why not just skip being a butterfly? Their life span is short.”

“Are you kidding? I am the common denominator to every butterfly. Without me, there can be no butterfly. And we need butterflies. It’s part of evolution. It’s my job, my calling.”19

Two hundred and fifty thousand voices speaking in unison can’t all be wrong. Emanation is hardly something to be dickered or fought off anyway. It is the hard-wiring behind every existence. When it changes, it takes you with it, so it’s you who change, though you may not even notice. You are certainly clueless against the rationale.

And then we interview the caterpillar when it has become the butterfly: “And how did you make wings out of a caterpillar body?”

“The air changed me. It knows what to do with me. And I know what to do with the air. It turns me into a butterfly.”

“How did you know when to break out? How did you know when the alarm went off—you are now a butterfly.”

“I just did.”

“Why are you a butterfly?”

“I just am.”

“Why not walk the ground and eat leaves like you did when you were a caterpillar?”

“I just don’t.”

“Well, how will you know where to go next?”

“Hey, I’m a butterfly and I go where I am attracted. And that plant over there is calling me so I need to go.”20

End of discussion—this is a discussion that always ends before it begins. Either this world is a station of mind, one of the many elaborate, sometimes terrible, sometimes ecstatic theaters in which essential beingness gets to play itself out along a skein of emanations and metamorphoses—or consciousness travels that same path without us though as us, serially, chrysalis after chrysalis, butterfly after butterfly.

Go with what is left. If nothing is left, go with it anyway.

It is all about view. Each view is “reality” because within its purview, everything is real, and nothing is annullable or revocable and … nothing else is real.

You believe a dream and whatever happens in it. More specifically you accept the “you” created by the dream, no matter how unlikely or absurd. Similarly the caterpillar accepts the butterfly created by its metamorphosis in a cocoon, and both of you accept the metempsychosis triggered by the death of your physical bodies—whatever “you” is generated next. There is not only no other place to go and nothing else to be; there is no beingness, existential reality, or trajectory at all. View is you; that is, a sequence of views, dreams, bardo states, etc., is the only thing that constructs and specifies individuality. You-ness is a transmigration that continues to individuate—otherwise the universe is vacant.

Probably something “hard” or at least substantial lies at the bottom of all vibrations, at the basis of all states of being. As they say, stay tuned.

During out-of-body fugues our natural frequency changes: people “see” their physical selves from afar as they become imbued temporarily with another view: their own charged metaphysical corporeality. In one such account:

My “being” felt as if it had a density to it, almost, but not a physical density—kind of like, I don’t know, waves or something, I guess … as if it were charged … as if it were sort of circular, with no rigid outlines to it. You could liken it to a cloud.… It almost seemed as if it were in its own encasement.…

[I]t had no physical characteristics, but I have to describe it with physical terms.21

No kidding! “In body” and “out of body” are not even complementary; they are far more devoted to each other than that. Plus our language is a purely body-based eschatology. All these discussions are just semantics, semantics, semantics.

How could consciousness be solely based in the brain if, during near-death experiences (NDEs), people report floating above their body and seeing the procedures of their own surgeries take place? Viewing surgery being conducted on their own anesthetized anatomy is just the beginning of the adventure. Many NDEers wander out into corridors and other hospital rooms and, after waking, report on patients lodged there. They read badges of doctors and nurses in hallways. In a few instances they even go up through the ceiling. One such surgical patient told the staff about a misplaced object on the hospital roof. It was later found precisely where he saw it. In another account a patient “left” the operating room, “went” to the lounge, and “read” the chart of surgeries scheduled for the day. Upon recovering consciousness he recited them flawlessly. How does that happen without eyes or a brain? What did he track the external world with? How did he see and cognize what he saw? His eyes and brains were on the operating table. “Who” or “what” went elsewhere and gathered news, with methodical conscientiousness as well?

Raymond Moody debriefs the generic Near-Death Experiencer:

A man is dying and, as he reaches the point of greatest physical distress, he hears himself pronounced dead by his doctor. He begins to hear an uncomfortable noise, a loud ringing or buzzing, and at the same time feels himself moving very rapidly through a long dark tunnel. After this, he suddenly finds himself outside of his own physical body, but still in the immediate physical environment, and he sees his own body from a distance, as though he is a spectator. He watches the resuscitation attempts from this unusual vantage point and is in a state of emotional upheaval.

After a while, he collects himself and becomes more accustomed to his odd condition. He notices that he still has a “body,” but one of a very different nature and with very different powers from the physical body he has left behind. Soon other things begin to happen. Others come to meet and to help him. He glimpses the spirits of relatives and friends who have already died, and a loving, warm spirit of a kind he has never encountered before—a being of light—appears before him. This being asks him a question, nonverbally, to make him evaluate his life and helps him along by showing him a panoramic, instantaneous playback of the major events of his life. At some point he finds himself approaching some sort of barrier or border, apparently representing the limit between earthly life and the new life. Yet, he finds that he must go back to earth, that the time for his death has not yet come. At this point he resists, for by now he is taken up with his experiences in the afterlife and does not want to return. He is overwhelmed by intense feelings of joy, love, and peace. Despite his attitude, though, he somehow reunites with his physical body and lives.22

This is what happened to Gilliland, give or take, in the soaker wave: instant NDE.

A bunkmate from Camp Chipinaw (Swan Lake, New York, 1958) friended me in 2011 on Facebook. I last saw him at age thirteen when we contended for the affections of the same girl (Joan Snyder—she chose him). After we reestablished dialogue as adults, he emailed me an account of his own “near death” a few years prior. Canonical in the Moody format, it serves as further indication of “free-range consciousness”: also one man’s intersection with “pain is merely view.” My friend is an entertainment lawyer—nothing else in his repertoire comes close to his NDE:

The events described in the following story actually happened. Whether or not they are “real,” however, depends upon you. They occurred on Sunday, October 29, 1995, in the Emergency Room of White Plains Hospital Center when, at about 5:15 PM, my heart stopped beating.

Earlier that day, while shopping with my family, I felt vaguely uncomfortable but didn’t think much of it or say anything. When we got home later in the afternoon I was short of breath and decided to lie down and rest. After a few minutes, however, I had a moment of insight, realized that I must be having a heart attack, and that I had to get to a hospital.

White Plains Hospital is seven minutes from my house. While my wife got the car, I called my next-door neighbor, our family doctor. He was already at work at the hospital, but his wife called to have him alert the Emergency Room. When I arrived at the ER, a triage team had already been assembled and was waiting for me and, as I walked with a nurse back to one of the treatment rooms, I felt embarrassed that I had made such a big deal about being sick and I joked with her about being there. As I got near the treatment area, I stopped walking, turned to say something to her, and collapsed.

Two nurses lifted me up onto a stretcher and began to set up an EKG and intravenous line. Suddenly, my heart began to fibrillate, beating at hundreds of times per minute. I saw the staff working on me and, as one of the nurses approached me with the defibrillation paddles, my last conscious memory was wondering whether it would hurt. At that moment I lost consciousness, and the heart monitor went flat. For five minutes.

After seven defibrillation shocks, TPA (tissue plasminogen activator) to dissolve the blockage in my arteries, the nurses’ refusal to give up, and the force of nature and God’s will, my heart was jolted back to life. After a week of stabilization in the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit I was transferred to Columbia Presbyterian Hospital where I had open-heart coronary-artery bypass surgery to replace three of my arteries, all of which had been more or less 100% closed. Over the next six months, the pain of having my chest cut open and wired back together, the haze of anesthesia, and the lingering physical and psychological “pump depression” that results from time spent on a heart-lung machine eventually faded away.

But the reality of what almost happened never fades away: If my wife had waited for an ambulance or the police, if it had taken ten minutes longer to drive to the hospital, if my neighbor had not alerted the Emergency Room, if the ER crew had been overworked or understaffed that day, or if.…

When I saw the nurse turn toward me with the paddles, the people working around my stretcher were frantic and noisy. An instant later, as I lost consciousness, everything seemed to become calm and quiet, and the matter-of-fact thought materialized in my head that I was dying. ‘Oh, so this is what happens when you die,’ I thought. Suddenly, I became aware that I was no longer feeling any pain, that there was no sound at all, and it seemed as if I were looking down on my own body, from a place behind and slightly above the stretcher. I could see my cardiologist and my neighbor near the stretcher, and I could see two nurses next to me, one holding the paddles and the other pushing on my chest and telling me not to die.

Just as suddenly, this image receded quickly away, as if I were being drawn backwards through a tunnel, and then I was out of the darkness and enveloped by, and encased in, brilliant, white, penetrating light, floating above a dirt path twisting through a forest. My senses became super-saturated, overloaded, with trees of amazingly deep green and an intense brilliantly blue sky. I saw my wife and my children standing near the entrance to the path, unaware of my presence. As I passed by them, I felt sadness thinking that I would not see them grow up but I soon came to “feel” that I would somehow be aware of their progress through life.

I continued to float above this path until I was confronted by a vast and bottomless canyon, through which ran an unseen body of water. Seemingly stretching over this abyss was an ancient bridge of rough and weathered wood. The deep grain of the wood on the bridge made an uneven, unsteady surface. I later learned that all NDE survivors experience a barrier of some sort.

A thick and soupy mist rose up from the water, and it seemed as if, on the opposite side, a group of people stood waiting. I could only see them through that mist, which obscured the details of their features, but I “knew” that I could “see” one of my uncles, who had died twenty years earlier. It felt as if these people were expecting me, were waiting to welcome me. Then the entirety of my life was spread out before me in a panorama, and instantly I came to “feel” and understand both the wrongs that I had done to others and the pain I had caused them. That understanding seemed to be both my judgment and my redemption.

I took one tentative step out onto the bridge, and then a second, when … suddenly … a violent, all-encompassing fiery explosion of blinding, intense orange-white light seemed to surround me. I became part of it. It absorbed me, lifted me up, head over heels, backwards off the bridge … and I was conscious again, back “here,” lying on the stretcher in the Emergency Room. I could see the nurses and the doctors, hear the noise and feel the pain of my burnt chest. The “explosion” corresponded in real time, I would assume, to the seventh paddle shock, after which I was, once again, “alive.” My wife told me that when I awoke, my first words were: “Oh my God, all of the pain is on this side.” When the nurses looked to see which “side” of my body was in pain, I tried to explain that I wasn’t talking about one side of my body but, rather, this side of existence.23

Some would call this a very vivid dream or hallucination, but I call it “net reality.” Revelation and redemption are always part of it—thank goodness.

Spontaneous “out of body” experiences also sometimes follow car accidents:

People were walking up from all directions to get to the wreck. I could see them, and I was in the middle of a very narrow walkway. Anyway, as they came by they wouldn’t seem to notice me. They would just keep walking with their eyes straight ahead. As they came real close, I would try to turn around, to get out of their way, but they would just walk through me.24

Few NDE deponents are more convincing than Harvard Medical School neurosurgeon Eben Alexander. Brainwise he knows whereof he speaks. After contracting a rare form of meningitis, he fell into a deep coma—seven days of virtual brain death, not expected to survive. Instead he emerged intact and, within seven months, was functioning normally again. Here is his report of what happened during those seven days and how he views the aftermath:

I think that if you were trying to come up with an experimental model that would best approach human death, meningitis is perfect because what it does is it attacks the entire outer surface of the brain.… The bacteria had gotten rid of all the glucose and now the only thing left to consume were my brain cells, so my entire neo-cortex, that part of the brain that makes us human, was completely shut down.…

My first recollection from deep inside the coma was what I sometimes call the earthworm view of the world: everything was kind of murky, brown, red, dark. I literally remember roots over my head, and I seemed to be there for a very, very long time. I had no memory whatsoever of my life. I had no words. My language was gone. I certainly had no idea of anything going on around me in the ICU room. And then in the midst of that, there was a little melody that was spinning in front of me, and it just started spinning and expanded, and it ended up clearing away that ugly, foreboding, gross, muddy realm.

All of a sudden I was coming up into this beautiful meadow. I had no body awareness; I had no arms, legs, or anything, but I was aware I was a speck on a butterfly wing, an absolutely beautiful butterfly. And there were millions of other colorful butterflies looking and swirling all around us, all in this beautiful formation of flying. And then we left this universe and went out into what I now call a “core.” At first it seemed infinitely huge and dark, although I was there with that beautiful, warm awareness of the divine, which was clearly what we would call God. It was in this place outside the universe. Basically I recall the whole Multiverse being out in front of me. It was clear that love was a huge part of the constituents of that whole Multiverse.…

This was something that was very difficult for me to explain from a neuroscientific standpoint. The scientific side of me could not see how that could be, and yet it was a very, very powerful, very powerful memory. I came up with several models having to do with neurophysiology and neuroanatomy, and the problem is that none of those models sufficiently explain the very powerful memories that I brought back with me from this experience, and I ended up at a point where I do not believe that there is a good neurophysiologic explanation for what happened to me.25

In the same fashion that Dr. Alexander was once a human being and a neuroscientist, he was a speck on a butterfly wing, traveling through a magnificent realm—no difference in reality tone or proprioception. He saw another zone of the Multiverse in the same thorough, resonant way that he now sees the sky or the Harvard Commons, but there was no healthy neocortex on which to map it. He may yet have other transdimensional butterflies or hyperspatial meadowlarks or equally exotic creatures awaiting him in his future. We all may.

Dr. Alexander continued his speculations in a Facebook post on the wall of North Atlantic author Mark Ireland, who asked him to comment on a cranky materialist’s blast against New Age MD Deepak Chopra’s reification of consciousness:

No one on Earth has written the first sentence in the chapter explaining how physical matter (quarks, electrons, molecules, neurons, brains) gives rise to consciousness. I believe the simplest beginnings to such an explanation lie in the very distant future, at best, and that comprehending a full mechanism of consciousness is probably beyond human understanding (within the limits of a physicalist model, i.e., current “neuroscience”; clues to this conclusion are found in Gödel’s incompleteness theorems). The neuroscience of brain activity in “thinking, feeling, seeing” is still very important, but there are elements of the overall process that are forever beyond physical reality. The brain is like a TV set, serving as a transceiver, and consciousness is the program coming through on the set. Just as the program does not depend on the TV set (except locally, for this one TV), consciousness does not end when the brain ends.26

It is like where the ceiling meets the wall. Even if you don’t get what it is, you get that something is there and it is radiating meaning. Because it feels the way it should, it makes everything else feel the way it should. Well, that is the universe, and that is the life, and that is you.

Where am I right now and how did I get here? Such is your advancing cutting edge. It is also the wall.

Another range of testimony supporting “consciousness is not the brain” is composed of “pre-conception” visitations and communications between unborn babies and their parents. An eclectic pre- and peri-natal subfield (with its own journals and conferences) documents the “ways” in which fetuses demonstrate cognitive awareness before their brain has developed.27 This is not because the early primitive stages of the brain are more sophisticated than previously thought; that doesn’t match the indicia. These interactions occur before there is even the first cell-seed of a brain. What solely matches the evidence is the notion that individual spirit existence chooses a body. The baby brings its own prior “mind”; as with NDEs the brain isn’t involved at all: “The boundaries of memory transcend our brain. Human consciousness exists independently of a brain and nervous system, even before the tiny fetus forms.”28 This violates every physico-neurological model of reality and every astrophysical model of planetary evolution as well as the declared baseline interaction between matter and energy.

The unborn Soul in a sense negotiates its own birth and life situation with its prospective mother, father, or both. Souls intending to be born try to prepare their chosen parents for their conception. Pre-conception spirits are usually persuasive and make a strong appeal. Sometimes the parents aren’t ready, so it takes many such presentations. Eventually a conclusion is reached, and either the parents proceed with conception or the child remains unborn.

David Chamberlain recounted an instance in which two parents had agreed before marriage not to allow any conceptions to progress. Neither wanted children, plus the mother had had surgery that made pregnancy near impossible anyway. But the child-to-be began communicating with her mother, who was quite honest in telling her that she didn’t want to have a baby and probably wasn’t able. The child disputed the “not able” part and, by persisting, eventually convinced her to change her mind. Even so, the woman told her “daughter” that she would have to speak to her “father” about it. She didn’t inform her husband of any of these “conversations.”

The unborn girl then approached her father and was equally cogent. He came to his wife and started to tell her about this strange visitation, but she stopped him at once and described her own prior encounters with the same visitor. He was stunned. The verdict was clear: they made the required changes—psychological and medical. They let their daughter get born. Once incarnate she did not remember any of these communiqués.29 Why would she? She had been through a holographic tunnel and peeled out of it at a denser, more forgetful vibration.

In late May 2012 as I was finishing a draft of this book, prenatal researchers Neil and Elizabeth Carman offered me two more recent stories. One involved a woman who remembered being first conceived by her parents as a man. When “she” heard the vibration of their arguments about whether “she” should be circumcised or not, she decided to go back to the spirit realm, so she triggered a miscarriage. She then saw her herself disappearing in a mass down the shower drain. Later she was born as a girl. Her seed consciousness returned to the womb. In her “second” incarnation she retained the memory of her male incarnation (as well as a traumatic avoidance of drains).30

Another girl, the daughter of Chilean physicists, now forty-six years old, recalls replacing a soul in a severely damaged fetus at the time of birth and healing it in order to incarnate on the Earth at this time of planetary transition to be of service.31

So can an unconceived “baby” really talk out loud to its parents? Or are these just lucent fantasies?

Well, paraphysical communications are not usually tape-recordable and certainly not presentable as evidence at a trial (although some ghosts have transmitted into material particles or spoken on mechanical devices ranging from magnetic tape, radios, and televisions to personal computers). These dialogues otherwise function like external speech with another entity. To the people experiencing them, a visitor feels like outside “company,” that is, another independent consciousness or selfhood, not at all like a fantasy arising in their own imagination.

This is not even an obscure or rare modality like the transfer of memories from heart-transplant donors to recipients. Just ask around. Many parents will tell you that they heard from their unborn children and in quite explicit ways either before or right after conception. When you ask them how they know, they say they just know. When you ask them in what way they experienced their child, they stubbornly insist, “He [or she] was just there.” They get it somehow, like the “Indianapolis kid” (see p. 235) doing math.

Occult philosopher Emanuel Swedenborg characterized these interchanges in his description of another branch of xenolinguistics:

Whereas spirits converse with each other by a universal language…, every man, immediately after death, comes into this universal language … which is proper to his spirit. The speech of an angel or a spirit with man is heard as sonorously as the speech of a man with a man; yet it is not heard by others who stand near, but by himself alone; the reason is, because the speech of an angel or spirit flows first into the man’s thoughts.32

I find these reports simple in premise and happenstance in presentation as if they reflected ordinary, quite prosaic occasions; yet complex in premise because they require egoic configuration of consciousness before birth. Direct spirit communication is matter-of-fact only in cultures that take its ontology for granted and where its acceptance does not turn reality topsy-turvy.

There are more favorable venues for this sort of communication in tribes where human receptivity to transdimensional landscapes is trained unskeptically. In the indigenous Philippines, for instance, babe-spirits fly with the wild doves around mountains. In indigenous Cameroon, spirit babies swarm in dark caves while waiting to be born. In other regions unborn children’s “voices” transmit in thunder, in rivers, in the buzzing wings of insects; they “speak” mutely from the dying bodies of fish after they have been caught. Waiting souls wander as coyotes, wolves, and foxes, peering into teepees to select the right parents.33 These are not fantasies; they are telepathic visitations.

In some societies children make their first appearance as a totem animal. Family constellations and clan signatures scale deeply enough into the universe to encompass simultaneously ancestors who have died and souls who are presently unborn. Each totem-clan, as it were, maintains its own spirit-land where members congregate between lives as spirits at the lineage’s vibration.34 If you belong to the Parrot Clan or the Lion Clan, you receive your earthly instructions from actual parrots and lions, respectively. Here are a few additional examples of pre-conception reciprocity, the last from an Australian Aborigine:

• “A woman told me one night when she was asleep on her couch, she was awakened by a cool breeze and found herself face-to-face with a little boy. For some unknown reason, she said to him, ‘What are you doing up? Go back to bed!’ The giggling boy ran across the room and hid behind a chair. When she got up to look for him he was gone. That is, until she gave birth to him a year later.”35

• “A man reported that the spirit of his son-to-be appeared to him weekly. During one of those visits, the boy told his father to ‘go get pizza.’ He followed his son’s instructions, and on that very night, at the pizza parlor, he met the woman who later became his wife and the boy’s mother.”36

• “Nangor, a Bardi Aborigine, felt someone pulling on his belt from behind as he was walking home from the burial ceremonies of a tribal son. Nangor turned to see the spirit of the deceased.… That night, the boy’s spirit appeared in a dream, asking, ‘May I be born as your son?’ Of course, Nangor agreed.”37

Children occasionally give corresponding accounts after being born:

I travelled through space and time which literally looked like flashing stars. It is a very fluid motion of space and time, from death to life and life to death. Obviously I did not have eyes and ears. I had nothing physical to perceive with. However, my senses were in play and became one sense. All the senses became one, travelling through space and time, and coming into the womb.

I remember finding myself in the physiology of coming into my body in my mother’s womb for the first time. I knew I was going to be born, recalled former lives, and knew I was coming from an intermittent place between early lives.38

Near Birth mirrors Near Death, always.

Another mother told me that she went through her entire pregnancy expecting twins, but after only one child arrived, “Asha Wren kept asking after her missing playmate; she said things like ‘I’m angry with you, Mommy, because you left A.C. behind.’ She told me that she played with her at night when she was asleep. Then one day around age three she informed me that A.C. couldn’t play with her anymore because she had gone to live with another family.”39

Here it is and it can’t be helped: Individualities bubble down into worlds as effort-shapes, creating holographic replicas of microcosms. Reality envelops them like suction at the precise instant they are generating it. Whoosh, in they go! Fizzzz, out they come. And then it’s ‘How the bejeebers did I get here?’ From the outside it looks like a crack on the wall or a wind tunnel; from inside it feels like an amusement-park ride qua trigonometric projection, or Lemuel Gulliver spilling out of some bardo realm into Brobdingnag.

“View” is that explicit, that imponderable. Just ask a patient under surgery or Kafka’s insect “wandering” through hospital halls. No, consciousness is not the brain.

iv. Cosmic Eternity in Eternity

Humans in the early twenty-first century do not privilege entityhood beyond creature bodies (and single-inhabitant ones at that). Our taxonomy is limited to cell-based neurotransmitting networks—the sorts of things we presently are. Yet advanced clairvoyants reading the greater dossier report that most states of consciousness and modes of being do not constellate in private entities like us. Creatures with different sorts of landmarks come to awareness with multiple views and knowingnesses—they do not store their experiences in first-person, gigabyte pods. Instead they meld them in fields and through channels attuned to collective and transpersonal awareness (of which our computer networks are Etheric reflections). Each knows more than its own ego self and consciously so. Yet they remain distinct entities with complex individual personalities:

“[P]sychics identify angels [for instance] as a whole range of non–physical consciousness that travels in an entirely different chain of evolution. Angels evolve in their own sublime direction without need of developing the particular kind of self-reflective ego that humans choose.”40 Angelic relationship to compassion and pure love arises nonpersonally, as these creatures turn toward good as naturally as a plant turns to sunlight. Their expressions pour down upon worlds like invisible rain, which is the reason, to the degree that we perceive them at all, we call their vibrations “angels” (or in India, “devas”).

Angels are not better than humans; they just arise at a different vibration. In fact, to themselves they are “humans.”* Wim Wenders’s 1987 City of Angels is more than just a romantic fantasy in that regard.

We engage other modes of being and consciousness by interacting with their near-plane manifestations at refined ranges of our own attention. Even within the ordinary terrestrial operating span many people already experience faeries, yetis, plant totems, ETs, Elementals, and other transphysicals. As noted in Chapter Five, some of these probably fall into the psychoid spectrum, configured partly out of our own intelligence, as the way in which we perceive them resonates with our innate projections into wavelengths of rocks, rivers, forests, seas, sky, and general space.

According to John Friedlander, the “self,” private personhood, is merely a convention, a ritual maintained by Etheric filters on Earth (and, likely, other planets) to create focal points and views within All That Is. Finally “the self doesn’t come from anything; it comes from everything. Nothing, in fact, is an entity in and of itself.”41 So how did we get so swank and vainglorious in our biosphere? Well, the universe has stuff to teach and learn egoically.

Each personhood sends and receives other “source codes” too. Though we don’t hear or feel or see their realities, we experience them in profound ways, as they hold us in place. In that sense, our existence stands only in relationship, to everything else in the universe.

Yes, bizarre as it might seem, all beings are relative, even essential, to countless beings elsewhere, completing their meanings in Unity

 

*See “cosmic default,” p. 195.

 

 

 

 

Consciousness. We are supported by interdimensional and multidimensional consciousnesses operating in ways that are beyond our ambit, beings and modes of being inconceivable at our level. We are also supported by our own Soul and its pantheon of Group Souls; by the Earth, the Sun, the Milky Way, and the Supergalactic system; by our own other lifetimes and alternate frames of existence (such as any of them exist). As these brace and buoy us at every moment, we don’t grok them like last week’s staff meeting or a drive downtown; instead they are the background context that generates every foreground, any identity. So we are always aware of them, but only at the deepest level.

Sometimes in a moment of distraction or transition or during a hypnogogic state just before or after sleep, you experience an event in progress that is absolutely convincing but then evaporates and is not recallable. What seemed as real as life itself suddenly doesn’t exist and can’t be found because there is no context by which to locate it. It has phase-shifted into Alzheimer’s-like amnesia.

This could be a past or alternate life or another creature’s life happening somewhere else in the universe that, because of field resonance, a psychic surge, or a temporary hole in the system, momentarily bled through and vanished just as quickly and absolutely into the Etheric fog. Yet it remains in the aura, the unconscious karmic field that includes all information and identity relevant to one’s beingness.

Where are these esoteric frequencies of meta-consciousness embedded in every man and woman? I would guess—and it is only a guess—in the unused portions of our brain, our cellular nuclei and other subcellular organelles, our so-called junk DNA, our aura, and various plausible extrasensory plastids and telepathic eoplasts. One or more of these might channel multiple other realities and tiers of reality. But then so might our conscious mind in its way.

Five years ago if you asked me whether I channeled my writing, I would have said, “No,” and meant it unequivocally: “It all comes from internal ‘search’ and ‘organize’ functions of my aware thinking.” Now I am not so sure. Many passages seem already to be forming as I compose them. They have an intrinsic melody, beat, and content, and I can tell when I get off their track and then back on. I feel prompted and coached. In Dark Pool of Light, to an explicit degree that I experienced in no prior text, I woke up often in the middle of the night or first thing in the morning with a complete sentence in my mind like an adage from a fortune cookie—and I used every one of them.

Interdependence is the key to the Eternity System and also the way finally out of the box of tragic existence. If we have to make it in the universe as a single mosquito at a picnic, forget it, because the “God” running the Earth and stars is swatting mosquitos today. But if that mosquito shares consciousness with the beaver, the sun, all other mosquitos (alive, dead, and yet to be born), and the human swatting it, then there is no box to have to get out of.

In the Western theosophical tradition Unity Consciousness operates at the Monadic frequency, the sixth ascending tier in the Seven Planes of Consciousness (described briefly near the end of the last chapter and at length in Volume Two). Unity Consciousness is represented in Eastern traditions by the “pristine cognition of the Buddha level, which results in the coalescence of bliss and emptiness and awareness and emptiness … [insofar only as all] appearances … are infallibly interdependent.…”42 The way to get really happy at a stable wavelength is to shift into cosmic interdependence.

“Venture capital,” macho, “too cool for school,” jihadist, and other “cowboy” egohoods are surprisingly recent on Earth. At an earlier stage of our evolution, disembodied “voices” of avatars, spirit-guides, and intergalactic entities, as well as motley creatures en passant, conducted ordinary powwows, roll calls, and séances at our wavelength; they spoke openly to us. A mode of semi-nondual awareness prevailed throughout the Stone Ages and in Aboriginal Dreamtimes and lingered long enough to seed the perennial wisdom of mystics, some of whom continued to receive intermittent spirit communications as late as Osiran and Homeric times.

Across a period starting legendarily between 1000 to 400 BC, these chatty hyperspatial consciousnesses gradually withdrew in order to allow us to develop on our own or, more likely, we persuaded them to stop talking inside our consciousness so as to let us explore reality and personhood sans mirroring by an Oversoul. At least this is our legendary heritage, the psychic phase of a “forbidden archaeology,” the corporeal branch of which excavates gears, iron cubes, light bulbs, and crystal spheres beneath the planet’s oldest civilizations. Both are true; both are apocryphal. John Friedlander elucidates:

The nature of human consciousness is changing. Several thousand years ago the larger guides stepped back from humanity and ceased to be in really constant contact with humans who were conscious at that time frame. Prior to that time humans had much more flexible egos. They would know themselves as that particular person, but they’d also maybe become a stream and float down the stream to see what the conditions were twenty miles downstream, where there was game, what was the weather like, stuff like that. They didn’t have this hard-and-fast consciousness that located within the body. And as part of that, they would feel themselves part of all consciousness.

But humanity’s choice intentionally to develop a self-reflective ego hardened those boundaries. This process took thousands of years. Before it was complete, it would have been impossible to have this illusion that you’re not an energy being, that you’re a physical being, that your apparent sense of separation and isolation is the way things really are. You couldn’t have had that and also had these large beings talking to you. It would have been harder to really believe that you’re born, that you are your body, that you have your experience separate from everyone else and that you die. If exotic beings were popping in and out in various forms of bodies and stuff like that, that message wouldn’t have worked very well.

Correspondingly, though, that kind of withdrawal forced humanity to develop self-reliance.43

Extradimensional entities haven’t contacted us on a routine basis for at least three thousand years and, over that span, we have thoroughly and conclusively convinced ourselves that not only don’t they exist and never existed, but that we imagined them in the first place—or we concede ex post facto that they were delusionary artifacts of animistic phases of our own consciousness.

Now at the legendary dawning of Aquarius, our egos have begun to expand anew, and we are picking up hints of other channels without losing our objective containment or duality perspective (see “Seth” up ahead). We are passing into a new range—a portiere, according to clairvoyants monitoring the transition, previously unknown in the cosmos. This attunement is still in its infancy, so we barely know how to receive or specify it and mostly don’t hear it or hear only nebulous chatter or fading reverberations without a foreground. Ego privilege remains stubbornly closed to hyperspatial penetration, convinced of its singular primacy. It continues to presume in SETI fashion that its kind of mind is the sole manifestation of consciousness in the universe. Yet, ready or not.…

“[A]s humanity encounters consciousnesses that are far larger than us and consciousnesses that are organized radically differently from our own, we will develop capacities to collaborate and integrate with those other consciousnesses that are currently unimaginable.”44 Individual and group views will begin to fuse and overlap; we will transcend our first-person isolation as private selves and enter into co-experiencing with other “I’s,” native to this planet and quartered elsewhere. As these presences increasingly communicate through their and our transphysical “organs,” people “will know themselves just as much as the larger consciousness as they know themselves as the individual person. Neither will be more real than the other.”45 Co-reality will flicker to the edge of our subtle and mutual cognizance.

Someone else’s reality no less present and real to us than our own? Pretty far-out! I wonder how corporate culture, the family, the media, the Tea Party, the Islamic Brotherhood, and the world’s militaries and governments will relate to that one. It’s a bit more immediate a threat to them than the Internet, Twitter, and terrorists blowing up funeral processions or Tibetan monks setting themselves on fire, though these are rooted in interdependence too. Arthur Clarke’s Childhood’s End, Robert Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land, and Theodore Sturgeon’s More Than Human, popular mid-twentieth-century parables, are pale harbingers of how this transition might unfold.

There are many such gateways and lesions forming across this planet along the space-time continuum, and they are what the Aquarian awakening is about, not UFOs or direct lines to Alpha Centauri or Binah, not cattle mutilations and grumpy overwrought calling cards. Beings with three or more eyes are watching us. They are not exactly in our midst; they do not intend to set up shop on Main Street; instead, they are everywhere, which is the same, and ultimately (when we catch up to ourselves) better.

Alignment with the Sun rising through the gateway of the Heel Stone at the Galactic Center is what individuals across the Earth (and perhaps elsewhere in the Cosmos peering our way) will attempt at the Winter Solstice 2012. The Earth means something to the universe. We may not know or have only the faintest inkling or suspicion of what it is, but the universe knows or something knows.

Then there is the incarnational system itself. Transdimensional entities only superficially represent an extrinsic tour of creatures and domains in extraterrestrial or extradimensional settings—they are really an extension and expansion of identity itself.

The oldest living single macroorganism identified on Earth is a creosote bush in the Mojave Desert, its age estimated as 11,000 years. A bristlecone pine in the White Mountains of California clocks at approximately 4,700 years old. The oldest known animal is a quahog clam netted in 2007 off the coast of Iceland, four-hundred-year-plus growth rings on its shell and going strong until capture.

At the other end of the pendulum an aquatic mayfly may dart about for only thirty minutes—its entire expression of its own existence. Many plants go from seed to flower to seed in a year. Mice, bees, and brine shrimp don’t tarry that much longer.

The speed of time is the speed of individual perception or, more accurately, the rate of functional existence. You have to slow an ant down from a range of sixty-four frames a second to around eight to get it into a human meaning, for even without neurons it packs in a lot of experience into a short spell.

What is the Rosetta Stone, what zodiac correlates these lives, spans, and meanings, and rectifies them equitably with each other?

Each life uncurls from its own karmic seed, sprouting in multiple directions and dimensions. For humans on Earth it lasts, on the average, 20,000 to 30,000 days (the oldest of our species, according to The Guinness Book of World Records, died at around 44,700 days in 1997). However long or short, it is really only one day, a Great Day that rotates in place—for a quahog or mayfly too.

When the Sun sets on each Great Day, a singular biological life is obliterated and its basis assimilated into the cosmos (one way or the other). In the Cosmic Eternity System, its personality vacates this pervasive broadcast to find a new venue of experiences and to express itself through other selfhoods, either by direct reincarnation on Earth (or another planet) or in a different type of body or extrabodily wavelength.

The universe burns a lot of focus, a lot of sacred energy just to hold us in this anatomy and timeline, to tune us to their frequency and precipitate our energy fields and auras into bodies. Obviously that focus has a meaning and purpose too, but it doesn’t signify itself or clasp forever.

Upon the end of its conditional frequency, beingness is incorporated into other interdependently emerging beingnesses, comprising a “limitless universe from which all emanated, to which all returns.”*

As to how dissolution and reconfiguration in the Eternity System take place, my suspicion is that we flow supplely across boundaries, maybe with an extra bump or two in a hard death. The universe simply lets go of its focus and we return neutrally to what we were.

Animals sense the greater frolic; at even a hard death, they don’t resist, they keep dancing, and another form greets them. That is why most creatures crawl away, to conduct the yoga of dying and transmigration. Given all the animals on Earth, how many corpses do you actually see?

Humans can reincarnate as undines, sylphs, extraterrestrials, interdimensionals, angels, dogs, horseflies, birds, and so on—it is a matter of conducting a fresh emanation with a new Soul plan.

When an individuality chooses to reincarnate—to take one more dip into the system as ego consciousness—it must follow the vibration of its

 

*A Vedic mantra that I learned as we chanted it in virasana at the beginning of Patricia Fox’s yoga class in Bass Harbor, Maine: Om Shri Ananta Hari Narayana.

 

 

 

 

 

Soul at the pitch of the vibration of its Group Soul as well as the esoterically transmitted guidance of other consciousnesses, spirits, and higher beings. It also has the beacon of its own “individualized spark that it received from All That Is when it initially incarnated.”46

The frame is wide open. Even entities who “chose” an angelic or undine individuation at one stage of existence can subsequently opt for a hominid life, with this stipulation—human incarnation may be special and prized, but it is no picnic.

The Buddha spoke about the rarity and the precious nature of opportune birth amongst human beings. He used a simile to illustrate this point. Suppose the whole world were a vast ocean, and on the surface of this ocean there were a yoke floating about, blown about by the wind, and suppose at the bottom of the ocean there lived a blind tortoise which came to the surface of the ocean once every hundred years. Just as difficult as it would be for that tortoise to place its neck through the opening in that yoke floating about in the ocean, just so difficult is it to attain opportune birth as a human being. Elsewhere, it is said that just as if one were to throw a handful of dried peas against a stone wall, and just as if one of these peas were to stick in a crack in the wall, so to be born as a human being with the opportunity to practice the Dharma is similarly difficult.47

That was ancient India; today we might draw our similes from bosons and quarks.

In a purely mortal sense, all the lights go out and a brilliant flash, much brighter than the surface of the Sun, replaces them. All sounds fade into an unceasing, gathering thunder and clatter that overwhelms them. Smells and tastes dissipate until everything is smelled and tasted at the same time. Sensation coils inside-out. The familiar story and its characters disband, the gates of perception fly open, and consciousness roots where energy, desire, and the karmic seed next place it. There are many accounts of this transition, but for now I’ll choose the “frequency shift” of Andrew Davidson’s seven-hundred-year-old character Marianne Engel in The Gargoyle (by drowning in the icy Pegnitz River) because he provides such an elegant description of her reawakening. Yes, it is a fiction, but aren’t they all?

When I woke, it wasn’t really like waking, because I hadn’t been asleep. It was more that I’d been in a state without any consciousness, and now I was returned into awareness. But not awareness in the way that we perceive the world around us: it was something greater, something sidelessly wide and endlessly deep. I was still under the ice, still being swept by the Pegnitz, but at the same time I was not in the water of a specific river. I was in the water of the entire world, the entire universe, but I wasn’t even “in” the water so much as I was part of it. I was indistinguishable from the water itself; I had become fluid.

When people die and somehow come back, they always talk about a tunnel of light. This was not my experience. There was light but it was not a tunnel, it was all around me. Luminous air supported me, keeping me aloft even though there was no ground that I needed to be kept aloft from. It was in me and it was through me; I was the water and I was the light. I felt as though I were floating liquid radiance, a steady glow without warmth or cold.…

I became aware of presences. You couldn’t call them ghosts or spirits, because they possessed not even that much form. They existed only because I could sense them. But sense is again the wrong word, because how could I sense something with no substance? Like the light and the water, they were inside me. I felt them so completely that I knew that not only were they inside me, but they always had been. I had been ignoring them all my life, in a kind of self-defense.48

Like Swedenborg’s universal language, which arises telepathically, this is the way death encounters in the System work. What is there emerges from Eternal Objects lumbering in the background. Then Ground Luminosity speaks its own inimitable words: “My medium is my message.”

As each incarnating personality holds its discrete vibration in a growing energy field, entities without Etheric filters recognize themselves and one another, supraliminally or subliminally, a degree—a frequency or so—away from their own prior and subsequent incarnations and group consciousness. They form an inextricable network of co-personalities and phases of incarnation and intelligence, each related to the others on both conscious and unconscious levels, each with its own identity and free will, each part of the others’ realities, each “fully free to accept, in whole or in part, or to reject altogether the sensory, emotional, and intellectual responses of her [or his] co-personalities.”49 The Eternity System enfolds us all with love and interest because every molecule, every creature is indexed internally to every other and not only shares but savors its collective existence. We are part of a gigantic thistle-wave pulsating in multiple dimensions while exploring itself in all its vectors and mediums.

Remember: “You are eternal because and only because you aren’t real.”50

The ego to which you presently hold is specified only at one level, fictional at every other. That level has meaning, depth, and value, in fact to an extraordinary degree, but only (finally) in balance with everything else everywhere. That includes other forms and statuses of itself that change the central meaning of what “ego” is, as well as everything that it has been, is yet to be, or has potential to be. These can be felt, whether past, present, or future, as shifting textures and subwaves in the present-time flow of its aura.

Likewise, each instant that you experience in consciousness doesn’t just dissipate or vanish and lose definition as you move to the next; it has intrinsic and accruing integrity. As it evolves, it absorbs and radiates Etheric energies from each novel experience of yours throughout the entirety of your collective being, expanding multidirectionally, redefining what it is, what you are, and what everything around you is. Every moment that you are you, you are also, at other frequencies and levels of the same emanation, merging with different forms and phases of yourself and other related entities. You are growing, not dying. That exquisite moment, “the way you look tonight,* doesn’t just disappear or get extinguished and lost forever.

 

*Yes you’re lovely, with your smile so warm/And your cheeks so soft.…”

 

 

 

 

It expands into, as, and throughout the rest, enhancing and enhanced. We cannot be evicted or unfastened from this web.

Countless such hives populate the universe, interdependent yet egoic within Unity existence. Their beingnesses cluster and disperse, cluster and disperse, giant cnidarian swaths breathing in and out and traveling while undulating like cosmic jellyfish. “The massless I, dilating at dreamspeed, grows coextensive with more and more selves.”51

As each Soul melds into its Group Soul, each Group Soul is welcomed into the Milky Way Soul, and each Galactic Soul is embraced within the Universal Cosmic Soul: “Everything is spontaneously arising simultaneously out of All That Is, and yet is distinctly itself.”52

There might be a trillion trillion or more such lookouts making up the Diamond of Reality, each with its own perspective on creation—any one of them transient and “unreal” by itself but an essential facet of Unity Consciousness. Each vista is packed with information, experience, inquiries into beingness. The source of meaning is not here and not not here; it is everywhere. Mathematician-philosopher Alfred North Whitehead spoke in his own terminology of a similar concrescence:

In a certain sense, everything is everywhere at all times. For every location involves an aspect of itself in every other location. Thus every spatio-temporal standpoint mirrors the world.53

All philosophies back to Confucius and Plato in fact converge at the same inextricable Unity.

But it goes beyond even that: There is no time in the universe, so everything has already happened. But everything is yet to happen. Everything is past, but everything is sparkly as morning dew. “Prior” and “yet to be” are irrelevant qualifiers since “in a way hard to understand given our existence in linear time, the baby being [not only exists—remember—before its brain is formed but] through its own divine spark, gets to choose, in an important sense, the desires that gave it birth.”54 It literally reaches out and over each of its own lifetimes to its potentiating origin, entertains its own unformed form, and gives it a venue into which to blossom. All entities are thereby individually and collectively simultaneous and simultaneously emerging.

Before the Atman and Soul created you, you were already choosing them. That choice was literally who you are. And now that you are it, you are traveling in its latency. As a babe in a crib you felt both your separation and nonseparation from the Atman as well as the helicopter presence of the Soul.

Think of it as a bead vibrating on a string of many beads. This here is one track that we’re following, of all the tracks in the universe that we’re oscillating among. Somehow we’re here, not there, not elsewhere. But we are casting meaning into and receiving meaning back from all the other tracks. That’s my answer now to the questioner in Boulder:

“You are timeless and egoless at this very moment, so subtilize into your cosmic signal. Everything as it arises in consciousness is creating itself and expanding your frame of reference at every moment. All That Is, which is a single rainbow lotus-splash suspended in eternity, is inventing a different same Creation within creature consciousness moment to moment, over and over. Consider that!”

How could the universe’s profundity express itself and operate except inside such a structure? Anyone who says he gets it doesn’t get it. The more we know, the more mysterious it becomes and the larger the range of the unknowable. In the end you have only one choice: to let go of an egoic mindset and trust consciousness itself.

In such a system age doesn’t flow linearly from birth through childhood into youth, maturity, then senescence. Time radiates all ways, and everything that is occurring is recurring at another level and giving rise as well to alternate selves. Many interdependent worlds and realities are happening on our single Great Day, as we circle within a vector of consciousness around its manifold layerings.

Then as each life fuses with and infiltrates other lives at different ages, it continues to reincarnate and grow through its own successive, simultaneous personalities in interaction with its Soul, blending even as it splinters into each next. “Multidimensional time allows the personality’s experience to go in multiple directions at once, and to exist in many forms at once—one form integrated unrecognizably in the Soul, other forms as part of larger consciousnesses, and at least one recognizable as the personality as it knows itself.”55

If you weigh the situation carefully and interrogate your own emergent lotus of existence, it becomes clear how you are not even the same person from moment to moment (see pp. 245–248). What connects each version of yourself to its next version is not a fixed identity but something else, something composed partly of memory, partly of karma, partly of desire, partly of ego individuation, partly of social convention. But none of these is an absolute ipseity. Even a raccoon is not the same raccoon from each moment to the next, though he “thinks” he is or, more accurately, he doesn’t think he is not, which is not the same thing (either).

Life is something other than character singularity, though it represents itself to itself by its own illusory oneness.

I experience my own metamorphosis every time I rewrite this text. In each draft I read a thoughtstream that someone slightly different from me wrote, and I resonate with his text. That varying parallax impels me to edit and make changes. By the time you read Dark Pool of Light, it is the work of a composite being—the many “me”s who collaborated on it over two and a half years.

Now that I am done rewriting it, it will drift out of my particularity, as I morph away from it. Right now I know it intimately. Eventually I won’t even remember most of the words; I will no longer be a person who could have written it. As proposed in the footnote on p. 245, it will be the work of a different author; yet that author has a special connection to me.

Take it a step further, across the bardos between lifetimes, and you begin to understand that each of us wrote the plays of Shakespeare and the Egyptian Book of the Dead as well as stuff in languages not spoken on the Earth. Or if we didn’t, what we express, through cosmic interdependence, systemic telepathy, and Group Souls, is far closer to collaborative creation than distinctive author-ity. That’s why we serenade each other with symphonies and songs, read each other’s books, and go to each other’s plays. They are all collective, composite creations (see Multi-personhood, upcoming).

Terrence Malick concluded his movie Tree of Life similarly to how Stanley Kubrick ended 2001: A Space Odyssey—by breaking with the space-time continuum and letting every manifestation and state happen at once. Malick’s young man meets himself miscellaneous times as both a child and an old sage, as each of his stages diverge or travel together for a spell. Though they depend on one another for their existences, they mingle extrinsically and hold I-Thou discourses like separate personae. For that reason, whether a given vibration projects itself into a boundaryless desert, an icefield, or a room in a timeless Hotel California, one thing is  always certain: there is no desert or hotel.

Alejándro González Iñárritu opened and closed his film Biutiful in a snowy forest of bare trees. The main character Uxbal, played by Javier Bardem, is approached by a young man. When we see the scene for the first time, we do not know who these people are or what is transpiring between them. By the film’s end we understand that Uxbal has just died, and the youth who approaches him resembles a photograph of his dad whom he never met. Fleeing Franco’s Spain a generation earlier, Uxbal’s father left behind his wife and infant son and sailed to Mexico to start over, only to die there of pneumonia three weeks later at the age of twenty. His embalmed body, shipped back to Barcelona and buried, was exhumed for cremation as part of a cemetery relocation within the time-frame of the film. Uxbal gets to see him again as a mummy, a “man” far younger than himself.

The story considers the weight of a life in the context of the memory of the dead by the living—and how the dead recognize each other without their bodies.

Biutiful did not actually commence in a forest. That scene was preceded by a brief a flash-forward from just before Uxbal’s death when he gave his daughter, a girl of about ten, his mother’s ring. Then he pleaded with her to stare long and hard at his face and promise not to forget him. The request occurs inside the film’s narrative, not in its prologue, which shows only hands, father’s and daughter’s, and a ring changing fingers. Uxbal did not make a similar request of his son Matteo, a boy of about six at the time.

Instead, the terminally ill father visits Matteo, finds him sobbing on the bed and, though usually gruff, comforts the boy. Matteo has been punished, denied a long-awaited trip with his sister and mother (Uxbal’s estranged wife) to the snowy woods of the Pyrenees.

So the young man at the beginning of Biutiful is not—or not only—Uxbal’s father but his son Matteo, grown up. How would Uxbal recognize Matteo (he last saw him at six)? How does he know that the youth who so resembles his father is not his father?

Matteo’s unique and timeless signal is the forest and snow, a phantom reality made of symbols, proxies that Uxbal will forever identify with Matteo because they represent an absence that needs to be filled. A very beautiful brown-and-white owl is lying dead on the snow, its feathers rustling in the breeze. As Matteo approaches, he says the exact words he will say (or has already said) at six, “Do you know that when owls die they spit a hairball out of their beak?”

Uxbal completes the encrypted exchange by adding that the sound of the ocean scared him as a child because he was afraid of the things that live at its bottom.

It is not a real dead owl either.

Where do original primordial beings or individualities commence in order to journey through discrete personalities, mind-bodies, and reality dimensions?

I think that all Souls are old Souls or, more properly, have the same primeval origin and in a certain sense have existed forever. They come from outside space-time, coterminous with Creation but not all at the same level or in the same way.

Some entities collect (after or without planetary reincarnation) in Group Souls or multi-personhoods. Avatar spirits—Seth, Abraham, Michael, Aaron, Nommy, and the associates of the Brazilian psychic healer John of God (Dr. Oswaldo Cruz, Brother Sebastian, St. Francis Xavier, and King Solomon among them)—are all multi-personality complexes and group souls rather than individual deceased mortals, though they each “read” to channelers as if one personified voice. I will explore this riddle in my upcoming discussion of Seth.

Numerous people channel Michael, a purported collocation of a thousand and fifty souls or essences of which the last to complete its cycle of cellular existences on the Physical plane (fifteen hundred years ago) had the name Michael, hence the appellation. “Michael” channelers claim the capacity to measure, with “his” telepathic guidance, the number of grand cycles or great karmic lifetimes a given person has been through before this present incarnation:

Four is the average number of previous cycles for human beings in general, and the average for Americans is five and a half. These figures apply only to human beings.… [D]olphins and whales, earth’s other sentient species, have an average of about six and two-fifths previous cycles, making the average for both of the earth’s sentient species (humanity along with dolphins and whales) about four and three-fifths. The highest number for anyone on earth is nineteen. The man Jesus, for example, before the entrance of the infinite soul … not [Jesus as] an individual “fragment” of an unrecombined entity, as we all are [but as] a representative of a reunited cadre bringing the Tao to bear directly on the physical plane through one of the three high planes … had nineteen previous cycles; he was relatively very experienced at the planetary “game.” Buddha, on the other hand, had fourteen, and Krishna had thirteen.56

At that level who’s counting?

Forget having attitude about the drolly precise accuracy of these calculations. Focus instead on the principle itself: soul fragments, immortal bundles of consciousness walking in and out of bodies and frequencies, gaining experience, transiting unobstructed (except by karma) between planes; recombining and reuniting in new entities and cadres. This is better than death, guys.

Remember, the above numbers are not of lifetimes—these are full lifetime cycles, karmic completions, each of which could hold fifty, a hundred, or ten thousand lifetimes. When we view our personhood or multi–personhood between lives—an entire lifetime cycle if not multiple reincarnational cycles—the vista must be breathtaking. And this is what we are if death as obliteration is circumvented:

Also essences with a relatively high number of previous cycles more typically incarnate on more advanced planets where the average number of previous cycles is higher. Such planets are all over, but in general closer to the center of the universe than earth.… Their infant soul cycles produce societies that are more complex than an earth infant soul society … more advanced in their abilities to work together cohesively and even telepathically, like one large organism.

Individuality is not sacrificed; “it’s just a different game.”57

Old Souls have many life cycles on which to draw; Young Souls have fewer—since Soul Emanation they spent more of their time (or whatever the cosmic medium is) blissing out in stellar cores, drifting in solar breezes, or helping to create planetary masses. They tend to be more aggressive, heedless, and sure of their own authority because they have not been “around the block” enough times to get it, to “know” the consequences. They generate strife and wars into which everyone else gets dragged, effects of which others horrifically suffer, but their energy is in the system and must be served—it feeds the collective ongoing manifestation. In fact, that’s how Young Souls become Old Souls.

Old Souls can’t dissuade Young Souls. They don’t speak the same language or even live on the same planet.

Where did Young Souls with fewer cycles hang out before their initial incarnation or, from a different view, within the sourceless cycle, presuming that they too must have originated at the stir of Creation? Michael’s consensus response: “Other universal experiences include being a deva, being part of the consciousness of a star, or helping design new planets. There are countless other ‘jobs’ available.”58 Talk about a fully operating Employment Bureau!

The Eternity System of Life Cycles is the basis, the prior field, out of which individual creatures and personae form and from which they matriculate into dimensionalities and onto worlds. As the metaphysical flipside of Darwinian reductionism, “Life Cycling” proposes that individuations exist and have “always” existed in Creation, “always” in quotation marks because, again, time itself is an illusion. They create the sensation of passage and make space for personal evolution. Those other individuations were maybe not you or me as egoic personae—or that spider—but are at their karmic source and get pulled into this emanation at this wavelength through the collective force-fields of their proclivities and passions. Their innate tempers and valences were once pulled molten raw from the Great Forge and are evolving “now” through All That Is.

If the transfer of emanations is “real,” the flow among vortices is just as real, but the emanations themselves, the succession of worlds and body-minds, are only conditional. Consciousness is literally the link between what is real and what is conditional. The rest of existence, the rest of everything else, is unconscious and profound.

This stream of Life Cycles is the core operating Intelligence of the Universe. It is the motif drawn on by biological and instinctual intelligences of each accumulated genetic template in each organism on each planet—their Nature or Phylo-embryogenic Body. They “take” hold in a particular ego as agency, as acts, and as concepts, or for anything in Sam Hill to make any sense. Likewise the individual learning patterns of a lifetime—their Nurture or Ontogenetic Psyche—extract their template from the same semblance and residue. A carpenter cannot learn carpentry without prior construction or drafting experience in the Eternity System; a musician cannot play music or sing without having already played archetypal music or crooned divine songs among the Spheres. A child cannot master language, syntactic and neural logic strings notwithstanding, without having previously spoken Universal Language (the telepathic xenolinguistics native to faeries and angels)—and he or she needs those grids too.

In fact, you cannot educate a “tabula rasa”; you can only educate a spirit or soul that has already been “educated” in other configurations and venues. It may be “born” a “tabula rasa” in local terms but it is not a Blank Slate. It knows a lot of stuff, and that stuff shows up on time, say, when a duckling instantaneously and magically groks what it is and what behavior is expected of it and then as it takes each lesson or mimics every demeanor of its mother duck; a cub likewise a lioness or Mama bear; a hominid its pack leader or first-grade teacher—each as if it had been practicing beforehand for a long, long time.

The field of Life Cycles is our absolute background, an intrinsic fog that can never be penetrated discretely or cognitively in any one life but, in principle and by existential syllogism, can never be shed (because it is “is”), so is always there, supporting, informing, and guiding one’s temporal existences, whether one is a chipmunk or a shaman. “It” alone is “conscious.”

If you believe that the Universe is bigger than space-time and mortality and there is something other than birth, battle, and extinction, it is because you feel the System’s overarching gravity and electromagnetism (which are neither gravity nor electromagnetism in the material sense).

This cosmology also corresponds roughly to an alchemical tradition, beyond minerals and athanors, that specifies a macrocosm-to-microcosm seed within one’s own mineralized imprint:

The mystery of alchemy was the true identity of the Prima Materia, the first matter, the origin point of time itself. Within the lower torso of every human being there is a golden serpent of knowledge lying dormant. This causal body is created at the time of conception prior to the embryo becoming a mammal. To see your original face dissolve into nothingness is to recognize a golden Nāga as the divine holographic source of yourself and the universe. This Nāga is the origin of who you really are.59

Once you see your face, you become deathless, capable of transcending your present form and influencing your future trajectory through the Cosmos.

Who knows how far this dark pool of light goes in not only time and space but probability to the end of hyperspace, ricocheting and shattering like a mirror in its own reflection so that every energy is appeased or released and then brought into every other form of energy and expression until each is made whole. The torch carried into ancient caves reveals not only horses and bears painted by Cro-Magnons 35,000 years ago but the faint lineaments of All That Is.

v. Entering the Eternity System

Everything you are connects you to the universe and the Eternity System; in fact, you are the Eternity System individuating. Once inside the system, you are anchored to it by stuff that uniquely characterizes your existence; the System is what you adore and enjoy, what you shun and deplore, what is painful and impossible for you but keeps arising. You invest your own richness, subjectivity, sense of wonder, longing, capacity. They are your contribution to the universe’s experience of itself. Every tendril of your energy—ecstatic, tormented, or neutral—is necessary; it will have to be used in some identity or formation sooner or later—why not now?

You not only have to experience everything; you have to find its basis and dissolve your resistance to it inside yourself, as the force of your beingness emanates through your birth spark into myriad shapes and manifestations. In the timelessly unfolding surrender of the cosmos this process will go on long after “you” by name and lifetime exist, as it continues to steer you through All That Is.

While the person whom you are now did not exist ten thousand years ago and will not exist in ten thousand years, it paradoxically will; that is, something will still exist in a form recognizable to you as you, in continued relationship to yourself now as well as to every other mode of existence, state of being, and manifestation you have gone through or will go through. It will not know and remember itself in the way that you do now. It will be embraced by the Soul and the Atman but won’t get gobbled up by them or by any greater multi-personhood or dissipate like ashes in the Void. You will still be a Self even as a greater Self surrounds and embraces and knows you and lets you know It. Phase by phase you will pass into a deeper profundity and state of knowing (and being) such that all your lives and prior modes of being will appear to you differently from how they presented at the time, yet convincingly as you.

Imagine this incomprehensible network. Now claim your place in it. Exercise your spiritual birthright. Broadcast your Big Reality off-planet to other-dimensional beings (as well as to friends, relations, and assorted Earthfolk). Show them right now how you’re still growing and changing and cool. You are doing it anyway, unconsciously and telepathically, but do it deliberately with faith that the beings are there and attending to you through their and your auras. Note the difference between conscious communication and prior default dissemination. Feel your higher vortices opening (heart, throat, third eye, crown); find the exquisite rattle of their signaling. Attune to its sublimity and pitch.

Stay amused. This is far too real to get either serious or gaga about it. Self-importance and drama shut down chakras; they will have no truck with earthen ponderousness.

We are in a system—that is the key. Without the system, nothing holds any meaning ultimately and everything forfeits whatever contingent identity it has. The system, not our isolation, is our context. Everything we do is inside the system and connected to everything else: every act thus has cosmological implications. Nothing is irreconcilable, incurable, as long as true healing is going on at any point because every cure is expanding and eventually will wash over every defect and state of suffering.

No wonder psychic healers grok the karmic, transpersonal origin of a disease. They read its instantaneous tattoo, the motif in which timeless archetypal forms are passing through a particularized body-shape. Whether aware of it or not, the healer does an instantaneous character reading of the aura, balancing the healee with his or her own discombobulated energies. He has multiple pathways available to him, all of them overdetermined. All he has to do is stand in relationship.

I believe that the reason why so many college dropouts, damsels and dudes between careers, and non-fans of 9-to-5 day jobs practice Reiki for rent and food money—and are good enough at it to command clients—is that the energy is already there and, if they are mellowed out enough, balancing is free and intrinsic. All they have to do is bring focus, transparency, a few spiffy runes or roses, and persuade their client the deal is real, which is more or less covered by their own outsider status, projection of sincerity, house style, and yin pacing. The mere fact of being out of the rat race and having enough self-confidence to ask for cash for touchless massage handles about half; the rest is ritual, practice, and a dash at faith.

It isn’t that these folks are good (or not so good) at Reiki; it is that Reiki is good at them: they are open to the universe and cultivating nonresistance, so harmony flows into them through the session.

Similarly a palmist reads lines on a hand at the level at which they mirror another, esoteric hand. An invisible zodiac creases our appendages, as these paws synchronously extend from quadrupedal silence into stone tools and semiologies, and an ancient animal rises on its hinds to shape its emerging digits and pads into dowsing rods, wands … machines.

You don’t have to be aware of the system to be in the system; most creatures are just scampering, galloping, paddling along, or surfing thermals—that’s it. The Eternity System is too vast to fathom anyway, but the fact that there is a system is not. Every creature values and takes its identity from it. Every creature is what it is because of it and knows it—its body knows and sends back a blessing and gratitude at each feint.

Otherwise, humans exist on small islands surrounded by doubt, inexplicableness, and their own myopic meaning sets (or tenets of meaninglessness from which they engender meaning anyway in order to live day to day). There are many such islands and kinds of islands. Most enclaves are formed of multiple intersecting hoops: religious and cultural beliefs, straps of consensus reality, acts of self-pleasuring and material acquisition.

But the biggest reef of all is the loyalty to personal pain, the dread that one is isolated in his or her suffering. Getting off this atoll requires a direct swoop into the system, for only in the context of the interdependence of consciousness do suffering and persecution take on crispness as intelligible states.

I am not saying this is easy to do. It is probably the hardest thing in the incarnation system to get rolling long enough to push matter through the black hole of consciousness into a white hole of the same consciousness. But the fact that it isn’t easy is what makes it such a profound and powerful system-creator. Painful stuff is the missing context for everything else. It is what ties your very existence to the system. Not suffering per se—that is sterile and futile—but its transmogrification into other energies. I think it was Gurdjieff (or one of his disciples) who said that only conscious suffering amounted to more than a hill of beans.

Plains Indians about to be burned at the stake shout back imprecations, profanities, and recommendations of even worse tortures at their oppressors with apparent glee. Clearly they know something about the universe. Even before Euros showed up, Native American captives dared victorious warriors from other tribes to stab and mutilate them. A similar awareness is achieved by soldiers who, having lost arms and legs in battle, persist in making viable lives with their “new” prosthetic limbs or armless and legless bodies. Likewise victims of rape, abuse, polio, leprosy, and other traumas overcome their own damage and convert it into healing waves, for others as well as for themselves. This is how the system works and why tonglen is such a powerful creator. Virtually every wrongfully convicted inmate later freed by DNA evidence understands that, despite decades of unjust deprivation life in lockup, real freedom comes from forgiving and even redeeming the police, the prosecutors, the warden, the guards, not seeking reparation or revenge. It goes beyond good etiquette or graciousness, though it encompasses them—it is biological transmutation, then psychic transmission of the argentum.

You get it, don’t you, that none of these are educated stances? They arise from deep waves and tingles: junk in the trunk, irie, bare and straight up.

It is likewise not just some “laughing gas” mirage whereby those returning from near-death experiences report a universe radiating ecstasy, even offering rides on butterfly wings. Joy is “a perceptually supporting presence that percolates up through every atom and quark, through every psychic energy that composes your being.”60

Pain is not even pain at the level of cells and molecules; it is information flowing in a particular oscillation. Cells and neurons don’t have preferences; they only want stuff coursing through them: charge, connection, linkage. They crave sensation. They want to resonate. They want to “know.”

The body as a configuration of cells does not intrinsically resist any experience—good, bad, or indifferent; it holds no judgment. The judgment is a verdict by the personality, its driver in the brain, a homunculus that can be “disabled.” There are times when a body hurts, excruciatingly so, but its possessor doesn’t mind—a state that has been reported, for instance, by terminal-cancer patients on LSD.61 Every atom and quark in them is vibrating with rapture, solace, and cosmic company, even though they’re in immediate agonies of pain.

If you think about it, the most unwelcome feelings register for at least a nanosecond as pure sensation before they hit the plexus of ego. There the suffering catches and becomes real, though it doesn’t negate the elation of the cells.

The spiritual journey is not to free us from pain; it is to change the way in which we relate to pain.

On another level, you become what you are only by becoming what you are not. Initially this sounds unlikely, even irascible, but once you check its references it is ineluctable.

At a level of unity and profundity, the universe disburses perfect ballast. For each thing you become at each moment that you are becoming it, you are potentiating another thing which you not only become by not becoming it but by arriving at it later (even lifetimes later) as the only option for filling out your immanent wholeness. “Self” is spiral in expression. You always set “what you are not” in motion by “what you are.” It may be a long journey, but it has only one possible destination.

Ultimately you get to escape this particular incarnation system by becoming it.

This is how the world’s wars, catastrophes, and depravities are working toward redemption and sanity. This is how even evil is creating more consciousness, more sacredness: by spreading what it is not. This is the inevitable outcome of all consciousness expanding in all directions. It can’t help creating more sacredness than was there an instant before.

The Divine has a wide enough view to make sure that its plan gets done and that we don’t sell out to religious dogmas, New Age panaceas, or some fancy new technology first. So while this planet is clearly not the world that we want, it is exactly and only the world we should have, because it is how the world is becoming the world we want. It is how the utopia we think we should have is torquing itself into existence.

A way to get into the “system” (if not as a fully made Dzogchen practitioner) is through the low-budget exercises in Chapter Five. They are not the only way nor is the Cosmic Eternity System the only use of them. In fact they are intended mainly for the crises of everyday life, as well as for routine personal interactions and difficult conversations (which are part of the System too). However, they can be applied directly in the Eternity System, for they derive from its dispositions and draw on vibrations that only function and are real if we co-originate as a multiplicity of forms under a flexibility of view. The exercises then become vehicles for engaging the Eternity System. That is their inherent scope, specification, and cardinal payoff; it is also what makes them effective in social situations. If you put something in a rose, the rose demonstrates what it is.

Roses are as cosmic and atomistically high-tech as UFOs, but they can also be used in regular run-of-the-mill, low-tech situations to deter energy vampires, improve friendships, get a job, or cause rowdy teenagers in a movie theater to settle down. This commutation is easy to overlook.

When you enter the Eternity System in this way, the limitations imposed by embodiment, causality, cosmic vastness, the flow of time, Darwinian materialism, etc.—the whole kit & caboodle and diabolic cabal—instantaneously seems to vanish. Whether they actually vanish, melt away, is moot because everything in mortality is either in a condition of root uncertainty or eternally pending. Yet a sense of arriving outside of prison is effortless; it confers an easy capacity to expand, to heal (oneself and others), to know (implicitly), to travel by intention rather than road rules, to actually be. Even though it is functionally ephemeral, what makes it real (or meaningful) is that it doesn’t feel like anything at all, or anything special; it feels like this, with the construct of personality removed—you slide naturally into spaciousness, timelessness, and full access. It is de rigueur and automatic and, most important (and telling), kicks you right back into the body at the same moment that it is welcoming you with open arms. Then it holds you, against your intention and will, a gentle waterboarding under gravity, inside the terror of infinite spaces and mortal time, inside the density and delight of this particular vibration—as it tells you (though not of course in words) why you have to be here now, why you want to be here, why you chose to be here, and how this is the only place you could be: the most poignant and prescient situation in which to awaken to yourself and to everything else. At the same time, it is pulling you into itself, embracing you, whispering sweet nothings (or everythings), while granting you permission to rescue every exile or orphan and inviting you to fulfill its absolute occasion.

Human beings are asked to orbit twin antithetical suns simultaneously, so they are always in a state of superposition and existential doubt: in darkness and luminosity, in limitless ecstatic potential and bottomless grief, in ruthless brutality and consummate compassion. Tapout forever denied: the rattle of the woodpecker, the autumn breeze, the night heavens, the lunar lantern are as incontrovertible as the bite of hunger, awe, and loss. Yet the System is just as incontrovertible.

In the Cosmic Eternity System every rose, every placeholder or transistor, opens a new mode of being in the universe while converting the present moment. That is how everyday life turns into cosmic life and ordinary desires become psychically as large as stars and galaxies. That is why magician Aleister Crowley made the outrageous comment—outrageous, that is, in an astrophysical context—that “every man and every woman is a star.”62

Yet in another sense we do generate stellar fields (lives) as we generate rolpas, roses, and other thoughtforms. We determine the condition and manner of the gravitational field of our birth by remitting energy through something like fourteenth or fifteenth chakras into the cosmic whirlpool and letting it shape itself embryonically. Our body-seed blastula is the original tulpa. At the moment of incarnation our intention matches a genetic constellation as it embeds us in it. Then we re-breathe that form every day.

Well, we use the same hyperspatial “technology” when we create roses for personal transformation.

From a simple practical standpoint, the more you repeat psychic exercises, even for trivial goals, and let them reinvent and change themselves, the deeper you get into the Eternity System and, more important, into your own relationship to it and, in fact, to anything—that is, to anything else, other than island “you.”

The opposing agenda (or realmspace) is to keep in one form, one status, one egoic selfhood, fully defended, rigidly managed, and narcissistically served. The “reality” bosses of modernity do not want to let the mediaeval jinnis, augurers, and devas back in. As you know, they serve transnational corporations and their local governances; they want to keep them chugging along, running the Show. They want to control the System and milk it dry, from their seeming position of privileged isolation on Island Pain.

In this regard what we believe makes a huge, huge difference. It may be just words, but, remember, words are seeds, seeds are thoughtforms, and thoughtforms are realities.

Philosophically there are two choices these days: the Eternity System or fashionable nihilism. The gap between them is gargantuan, but at the start it is mere sound-blocks, alphabet soup, phonemic mantras. You can believe in “you only go around once, so you better grab for all the gusto you can get,” or you can believe in the dance of nonegoic, nonergodic consciousness fields. Whichever alphabet you plant, that determines the seedling that will grow and become your existence—it is the range that your identity will have.

If you believe in the primacy of the Eternity System, you can still believe in the laws of thermodynamics and evolution (why not?), but it doesn’t work the other way around.

The narrator of Andrew Davidson’s The Gargoyle is a disfigured burn victim from a drug-induced, one-car crash: a plummet down a ravine after being chased by cosmic-bleed-through dwarves with arrows. Before the accident he was a pornographic producer and actor, a cynical seducer of women, a confirmed nihilist—a dude who believed in nothing and wanted to believe in nothing. Now that his beauty is ruined and his penis has been burned off he intends to kill himself as soon as the doctors release him from the hospital.

He is led through the Eternity System by the woman he loves, a seeming schizophrenic patient who has found him by sneaking out of her sector into the burn ward, concluding a seven-hundred-year-long search. What she is telling him he knows can’t really be true; the places she is showing him can’t possibly exist—there is a fallback position for every one of them; after all, she is a schizophrenic. Though he doesn’t believe any of it, Marianne is a woman of unshakable faith and he is tied to her story by the deep feeling he has for her as well as his dependence on her largesse. At an ego level, though, he remains a nihilist; skepticism is in his blood. He says: “I know you believe that story is true. But it’s not.”

Then “You can’t believe that.”

Then “Marianne, there was no—”

Then “I could not persuade her that this medieval child had never existed.”

Finally, not wanting to rebuff her cruelly but not wanting “her to think that I was endorsing her story,” he challenges her central premise with “I don’t believe this [ever happened].”

I wondered how the novelist would have her respond to his ultimate, damning smashdown and denial. Then I laughed out loud because she gave the universe’s response to the human race for what it is presently hurling its way: “You’re a wonderful liar.”63

We all are. It’s the one hope we still have.

vi. Cosmic Eternity in Temporality

Consciousness isn’t going away. The sheer size, scope, and depth of the System tell us that. We die, our durations here stunningly brief (especially given all we have to do). But we are consciousness, and consciousness is an indelible, expanding form. Its agenda is not its agenda, but boy does it have an agenda, so don’t feel cheated or forlorn. Its intuited epiphany is its actual epiphany. (This is one of those epigrams I was given in my sleep.)

Creation is a texture and richness beyond anything else ever tried by All That Is. We are meant to be in a state of dualism, bafflement, and confusion.

Gulls over the harbor call out in shrieks of absolute meaning, ‘Here I am. Here I am.’ The vision is brilliantly, horrifically real. ‘We know! We know!’

Yet they can’t “know.” They, like us, can only experience: ‘We are! We are!’ Nothing beyond their existence as flying, famished scavengers can be  explained or filled.

“One sticks a finger into the sand to see what country one is in,” declared Søren Kierkegaard. “I stick my finger into existence and feel nothing. How came I here? Why was I not consulted?”64

“It is ultimately incomprehensible,” John Friedlander avers, “as long as we’re in a body. Everything is always and already, and yet it’s new and different every moment, even though there’s no such thing as a moment.…”65

“What is the purpose of this life?” the Dalai Lama wondered during a 2009 talk in Hamburg, Germany. After a moment’s consideration he up-tempoed the reckoning with a hearty laugh, “The purpose of this life is existence.66

?

Stand again in the flux of sensation and contemplate its spaciousness and pang of exigency. Let it come alive in its fragile elusive immensity.

Feel the flow of light and sound over your body; these have weight too. They can be softened and transmuted. Go toward where you are quietest.

Our profundity and the night sky’s implied profundity stand in perfect, eternal balance, each mirroring and intimating the other. In Van Gogh’s painting of “Starry Night,” mind and matter are each other’s whirlpools.

Unity Consciousness stares at our existence, stares through our existence at the night sky and feels something truly profound, which is itself gazing back.

We Might Be Giants!

Now imagine removing the threat of mortality from the equation and ask yourself, what am I experiencing? Try it when you’re feeling particularly miserable, desperate, lonely, hopeless about your prospects and the universe, or abandoned—when life seems horrific and cruel, not worth living. It doesn’t solve the problem, but it dramatically expands your range of consideration. Suddenly, for an instant, you are not just in the Eternity System, you are creating it. Now try it when you are happy here and don’t ever want to die.

Let Creation radiate everywhere, thrum its psalm in every cell of you, if possible every electron.

You are no longer on the clock because there is no clock. You don’t have to play out your hand rapidly and greedily; you have oodles of time in which to explore every nuance and deepen.

Whatever “this” is, it can only increase its frame of reference—so you are in it for the long haul, and what you are thinking and feeling at this very moment, even as it dissipates and fades, is in it for the long haul too. Instead of running for cover, imagine becoming as large as it is. Right now. “Subjective, expansive joy is eternal.”67

When I came to this same breakwater in Volume Two, I wrote: “It doesn’t matter how much or how little you are getting because the smallest patch of something this big is a game-changer. It changes your placement on the river of life and death, and it changes what you have to do and the amount of time you have left in which to do it. Suddenly there is no hurry at all—you are off the clock, you are not limited by this lifetime, it will all happen as it should. Enjoy the watermelon.”

There is no alternate outcome to the present crisis. We are gladiators in the exact amphitheater of our own apostasy; we are asked, each one of us, to earn the Purple Heart by becoming who we are, to redeem the faith of those throughout the galaxies cheering for us to awaken and recognize our divinity. We hold their possibility too in our single throw of the dice. I invite Ellias Lonsdale to interrupt here because he has a big, big message:

Earth has become the new hot spot in evolution. It’s all here now. The whole Eternity System is flocking to our planet because it senses something uncanny about to happen—human spirit, having embedded itself into the densest period of all, is about to light up the galaxy with the force of its awakening.…

Existence is throwing you a great dare to show up as you really are, which is something you don’t know yet—any of us—and something you will only find when you stay with that edge, and hone it, and come to it all over again each living moment, and share from there, and mean it.68

Radiating from a point of private, isolated identity in a solitary body-field on a single Goldilocks bead orbiting among mostly molten and frozen strings of worlds in the mysterious outer Milky Way, in a tridimensional space-time continuum filled with such Milky Ways, we have hidden ourselves from the Multiverse in precisely the way that we have hidden from our true selves. We can’t make the jump even though it is right there and even though we keep making it and then looking up to see if we succeeded.

For me, this third volume is a forum to address the real danger we are in: the precariousness of the current universe and every outcome in it. I, like you, stand at the precipice of my own mortality and the loss of everyone I know and love. I tell you, this “freak show” and stirred-up metadrama of mind, matter, nature, and embodied existence is not inherently reassuring—but again that can’t be the whole story. If it is, then we have to change it. But first we have to recognize it: recognize that it is happening, recognize that we care, care deeply and unremittingly and irreconcilably and, because we care, we can’t defect or hide.

Consciousness seems like a real thing, in a sense that nothing else is real, a real thing that absolutely has to be here, and had to be here from the beginning and is not going away. The certainty with which I exist, to myself and to anyone else, is the bottom-most current of All That Is.

Only if the universe is random and its molecules are random does it have nothing to say. Only if the source of the universe is random, if it arises without context, are its molecules random and do its entities have no meaning or purpose. And that’s a big algorithm to float in the middle of nowhere and no-when.

I am trying to make a Multiverse big enough to die into—safe enough, friendly enough, and wise enough too.

vii. Multi-Personhood in Eternity

Speaking through a twentieth-century American woman, initially by way of a Ouija board, the spirit Seth adopts the voice of a man: “Forget the cringing selves that you sometimes are and remember, instead, the magic essence of your own being that sings even now through your fingertips. This is the reality which you are seeking. Experience it fully. Do you need an old dead thing like me to tell you what life is? I should be ashamed.”69

An old dead thing indeed! He is neither “dead” nor a “thing.” Those fingertips are actually cells and electrons, masses at rest consisting only of the surplus generated by their spin and acceleration.

Seth’s teachings contain the sort of stuff that has been around the Earth for a while, but that doesn’t make it either passé or New Age blarney. Guess what, it is still the same universe that it was ten thousand or five hundred thousand years ago, at least of our mode of time.

Why would a dead avatar bother to transmit perennial wisdom here against recent custom and orate at such length through a homemaker in rural New York? Who was “he”? Was he once of us? And what does his visit (and omen) portend?

I think you know the answer by now. Seth heralds the turning point of the Earth at the onset of a fundamental shift of its frequency within the Eternity System, so his “voice” is an augury of spirits and interdimensional guides from before 1000 BC getting back in touch with us, a xenolinguistic stalking horse at a startling new frequency of permission—so spontaneous, straightforward, and modest that it was hard to grasp at the time as what it actually was: “ETs Land on the White House Lawn”! Our species had a Close Encounter with a more palpable presence than anything that might or might not have crash-landed at Roswell, but it was almost entirely missed.

“Seth,” the persona attached to this event, is an affable, unthreatening cosmic uncle who looks and talks like us though he is anything but. If we were really to see him, we would be as abashed as Moses had he looked directly into the face of Yahweh instead of a mere burning bush.

We are meant to receive this line of information under protection; otherwise its amplitude would freak us out.

According to John Friedlander, Seth was a multi-simultaneous, multidirectional beam of a higher-dimensional energy-gestalt put together as a personality by Jane Roberts and her husband Rob while she was in an extrasensory state. The multi-personality was meticulously and vibrantly enough conceived and fully enough realized that, when broadcast beyond the Ouija board, it took on semblance as not only an independent life form but an avatar of the highest order.

And the chap was singing like a bluebird. The enormous body of work that Jane dispensed via Seth may grow over the next thousand years like the works of Plato and Aristotle into a fundamental document for humankind, becoming more and more salient as we understand just how seminal it was. Or its essence may trickle into our world through nether channels.

To contact the “living” here cogently, to join your voice harmoniously to other voices like the individual components of Seth—even to know how to become a self-sentient chorus—takes a highly refined intelligence and earned wisdom. It also takes a rotor of beingness anchored beyond the fast-moving stream of appearances; literally a holdfast in the deep cosmos, privy as well to a clear channel. No Earthian who dies routinely does it, at least not in his or her own name. Consider the meaning and consequence of that for a moment, how much sheer experience, witnessing, and dead reckoning are involved—how many lucid bardo metamorphoses—and then backdrop it against your own precious life in the currents of space-time. One day you are going to have to shift position, sender and receiver both.

“Seth” is concurrently at least three things: (one) a reincarnate entity returning from an advanced state of evolution to provide details of his former lives in order to educate us about the nature of the universe and our place in it; (two) an emanation of a very high consciousness, independent of incarnations, e.g., beyond the human incarnational system, with an insider’s view of Cosmic Eternity; and (three) a “made-up” phenomenon drawn from undesignated, multidimensional energies directed toward us. John adds: “‘Made-up’ doesn’t mean unreal because Seth was as real as any of us.… There are other places in the books where Seth says, ‘I was part of a group that put your Earth together.’”70 That’s beyond fictional or nonfictional.

When Seth speaks offhandedly of his own many incarnations as different individuals on Earth and other planets, including the last as an oregano–smoking sea captain, this almost certainly means something less cozy than a linear progression of lives and roles. And, even then, it’s not really who “Seth” is but how he is presenting himself and using his channels’ capacities to articulate the inscrutable gestalt of his being. Who he is is the energy and shape of his care and desire to communicate to us, period. It’s also a character and storyline that fit into what Jane and Rob were capable of channeling. Seth knew himself as all his different selves and many others simultaneously. John concludes, “Seth was all those things and mind-bogglingly more. And so are you right now!”71

Me too!? That’s a shocker, but it’s what it means to be in the Eternity System—however you began, however it began. Seth validates not just his own multi-personhood but each of ours.

Furthermore (four), there is a reason that Jane Roberts (and not someone else playing with Ouija boards on Earth at that time) contacted and channeled Seth (and not some other entity or multi-personhood floating around the universe with a message for humanity): “In a meaningful way, Seth was an incarnation of Jane herself. At the same time, when Jane gets into her future she will be herself and she’ll be her own Seth and not just the Seth that talks to us.72

That’s how anisotropic the whole affair is.

How do you know yourself? On one level you experience the activated storyline that you tell yourself. On another you experience that it is only a “story” and, at that, only one of many overlapping fictions. You may tell yourself a single story or you may tell yourself a number of competing stories but, either way, the deeper you go, the more stories and storylines you will excavate, making any one life-view or narration a transient rendition. This is true for everyone, even the most ego-proud hardhat.

Multi-personhood explains why pinning down and then trying to confirm particular past lives is futile. So much about our schizzy, threatened state of being is resolved by the notion that any one person can be multiple—even a part of different multi-personhoods at separate cosmological levels. Likewise, many individualities can incarnate together in a single body. A widow never truly leaves her husband, a widower his wife, even if they remarry: all partners simply continue to expand independently and polyamorously through a larger communal network.

Your aura will not disclose to you in a format that you can understand in your present state the myriad Souls or Group Souls around which you have coalesced and to which you have access at one level or another or, for that matter, how many other Souls and Group Souls constellate your personality or vibrate with your identity outside the space-time continuum and in alternate universes—or anything about them except who you are now.

At the same time, every epitome of yourself, even the present narrow one, is a legitimate personhood, and every experience of you by anyone else or anything else is just as valid too. Who you are to your house-cat or to the crow staring down at you from a street light is as real as who you are to your mother or spouse—maybe not as significant but as real. All of them are “real” because none of them is really real. They combine in a composite reality that none of them individually achieve. In the Buddhist sense they share interdependent origination.

You yourself could not exist without an interdependent origination that includes the Earth and the Sun to the degree that each of them also have incarnate spirit intelligence and participate integrally in your beingness. When the Sun dispatches a storm of charged particles into the Earth, that robust flare, though more powerful than a hurricane or meltdown at Chernobyl, seems to have little or no effect on our body-minds (at worst, it disrupts electrical grids and communications systems). But in the deepest recesses of our aura where we share personhood with the Sun it is literally a breath of pure meaning from Sol through our fourth, fifth, and sixth chakras into our head and heart, as well as a shift of internal selfhood and consciousness of the most radical and terrific order that will take decades to assimilate and manifest.

The shift begins at contact: I am writing this passage (March 8, 2012) inside such a flare.

Perhaps along with Seth and his associates you also helped create the Earth. Well, even so, that’s just another layer of your being, inaccessible to you now. Maybe it will seep into the way you come to know yourself as you achieve broader Buddhic, Atmic, or Monadic awareness and evolve through your multi-personhood. Maybe and maybe not.

Yet over the long haul you will molt into no less an intentional multi-personhood than Seth or the New Mexico phenom Drunvalo Melchizedek. In 1941 Melchizedek was born Bernard Perona but after studying at the Alpha and Omega Order of Melchizedek in Vancouver, Canada, he renamed his human pod, proclaiming that he was a walk-in who had traveled here from the other side of the universe, a complex spiral journey that took him millions of years. Upon arriving “he” received permission from “Bernard” to cohabit his body but, in another sense, “Bernard” simply awoke to the fact that Drunvalo had always been sharing his incarnation and selfhood.

I remember first hearing about this affair from rebirther Bob Frissell in 1992. I asked him, tongue in cheek, if Drunvalo was going to stay around here. Bob answered (tongue also in cheek), “He spent a long time getting here, so he is in no hurry to go.”

Well, same for us.

At the time, I thought of the trope as Mr. Melchizedek’s private shtick, either an authentic personal revelation or a stroke of spiritual theater from a shameless hustler. I practiced some of Drunvalo’s Flower of Life techniques with Bob back then—which involved breathing your own spacecraft (merkabah) out of and around your aura in order to switch dimensional frequency, leave the Earth, and travel through Astral and higher realms. I didn’t get beyond light-headedness, but I did begin to understand that the former Mr. Perona was not being grandiose or self-aggrandizing. Like Seth he meant: we are all walk-ins and avatars, not only here but elsewhere, and many times over. That is why we can breathe merkabahs and escape both our own mortality and the planet’s coming extinction events.

The message is: the body is the greatest and finest and sleekest UFO of all, with the broadest intergalactic, interdimensional range. What we have to do is first turn it into an ascension body and then proceed in it upward through the planes. The aerospace industry is certainly not going to do it for us. Astronauts may “leave” the planet, but they cannot get out of their Earth vibration; they cannot even travel very far in that vibration (for instance, to other planets or galaxies) without first changing its frequency, something not yet in the NASA handbook.

The key is locked away in our DNA and the seals built into our Etheric bodies. Yet they are there not to bind us forever in Luciferian fashion; they are there for us to break them in another way when we are ready—only when we are ready, which is the other way. It won’t happen unless we arrive at it by ourselves, give ourselves permission inside ourselves where the code-shaft is hidden.

Multi-personhood was Seth’s most fundamental and intoxicating message to Earth, likely from his transmission of himself through the Eternity System as he presented his beingness to Jane Roberts and Rob Butts. His account was his way of modeling multi-incarnation potential; its medium was his message: ‘You along with everyone else on the Earth are moving from Piscean individuality into Aquarian group consciousness.’

Despite this hullabaloo I still can’t begin to answer the question that opened Volume One—“What the fuck is this?”—nor can John Friedlander, but he really got his post-Sethian swerve going during some late 2011 and early 2012 seminars:

There are no objective essences, but your subjectivity exists in a “fuzzy logic” sort of way too—in the same way that words have a meaning even though you can only define their meaning by other words. There is no completely objective way to define a word because it’s interdependent with all other words that you say, and the words that you don’t say. The mystical analysis is that there is no objective self and therefore you can’t rely on that self. Well, that’s true … because each subjectivity is expanding in all directions and because every part of the universe is expanding in all directions, in at least one of those directions it retains its subjective existence in an eternal growth. Every subjectivity does.

That is why our existence is “unreal” but meaningful.

When you start to follow that, then your personality is eternal, and every personality, even someone atrocious, eventually attains nondual awareness, enriched by its humanity, in duality. If someone’s really evil, it might take them twenty million years and another planet, but since every personality, every subjectivity grows in all directions, no subjectivity is ever lost.

In this way Seth has turned impermanence on its head. Impermanence is what generates growth in all directions. In generating growth in all directions, subjectivity is always changing, but it’s eternal because it’s always growing.…

A cat’s subjectivity is never lost even though it dies and merges into the deva that does its group consciousness, but that subjectivity is much more playfully engaged, and it’s not that big a deal. For humans, whose subjectivity is more important to them, it is a big deal, but it serves more functions too. If you track it in one direction, that subjectivity is obliterated, but if you track it in every direction, it’s eternal, always growing, and ever more sublime.73

The agenda is not the agenda we thought was at stake, so it will always get done despite our mortality. This is why the intuited epiphany is the actual epiphany. This is why Seth promised that we would get a fair shake. A few months later John brought this theme to crescendo:

It is exactly true that you have no objective essence, no objective separateness—no objective existence as an essence because you arrived interdependently and impermanently. So even your soul is not a separate thing or even the Atman is not a separate thing but is all of those things arising interdependently and impermanently. Impermanence subverts your objective existence, but it supports your eternal subjectivity. So the gestalt that you think of as “you” will eternally expand in all directions.

The fuzziness at the concept of a personal gestalt is that I can have collective existence even though some components of my gestalt are the Earth, the moon, my cat, and my wife, and you folks, and past lives and future lives, and my Soul, and the Monad. I would have no existence as John without all those things and yet there’s a fuzzy line around John.…74

As for Seth, we still await him, though in the world of literature he has come and gone, said his last goodbye, and wished us well: “Travel in peace and joy and safety, in your bodies and out.”75

Always the love, the cheerfulness, the foretokening.

viii. Cosmic Eternity Checklist and Review

Here are five takeaways from this chapter (and book). They are by no means the only takeaways, but they are ones that might get lost or be missed in the overall splay:

1. You are emanating right now, originating from somewhere. Find that place and separate it in your mind from the daily, convenient self you serve, protect, and try to keep safe.

What does the “origination self” want and think and know and feel? What do “you,” by comparison, want and think and know? Why is there a difference between you and your origination self? How do you locate that difference? Is locating it the same as beginning to know why it exists?

Even if the “originating self” seems to be arising everywhere, try to particularize its source; find it at a single point or give its emanation a stable vortex. Identify the necessity driving it (and I do mean “driving”). Why are you emanating from at least two places (ego and ground luminosity) simultaneously? How does this duality serve the universe?

I invented this exercise during a very bumpy flight over the ocean from Mau’i to Oakland on February 15, 2012. I am the kind of passenger who can’t forget for a moment that I am in a cushioned metal-alloy capsule, a fabricated room packed with fossil fuel propelling itself through the sky 38,000 feet above the ground. Optimistic statistics regarding previous such flights don’t guarantee arrival; likewise the comment of an off-duty pilot to me before take-off that day: “Only potholes in the air.” The plane still had to hold its integrity and complete the journey with Newton’s laws operating at every instant, among them shear force, system turbulence and nonequilibrium, the progressive weakening of all cohesiveness (metal fatigue, for instance, under saltwater corrosion and gravity), and the probability equations governing systemic mutations, strange attractors of chaos, and the quantum states of the pilot and his mental stability.76

As we vibrated and rose and fell, I was desperately uncomfortable and wanted to get “outside the box,” to find some activity as profound and foundational as my claustrophobic situation.

At the root of my breath I found a gateway into the Eternity System, so I stuck my mind to it and invented a meditation to keep expanding the sensation while bringing my identification back to my originating self.

Under my symptomatic restlessness and distraction I had to keep re-finding the spot. It was a subtle but continuously arising view that, whatever happened on this plane, my fate lay with my point of origination regardless.

Gradually the perils to the Hawaiian Airlines jet (seemingly being ignored by the passengers around me) became a secondary subset of the true jeopardy of being in a body. That would remain after I got off the flight. I would be in just as much real danger.

We are always subject to getting sucked or blasted or crushed or rotted out of ego life, many of the ways just as horrific as the consequences of hitting a crisis sealed in a can going through the stratosphere at five hundred miles per hour—a plane crash is nothing special. An asteroid or nuclear bomb would do as much or far more damage, while ripping you from your present mind-body and tossing you into the void casually and harshly. Carcinomas and scleroses are more drawn-out and torturous.

The Dalai Lama once remarked that, despite his advanced Buddhist training, on transoceanic flights he would sometimes look down at the water and imagine his body being torn apart and eaten by sharks. I take him to mean not so much that a catastrophic mechanical failure would entail unwelcome worldly suffering for him but, worse, it would impede spiritual transmigration in a particularly unpleasant and disorienting way.

The turbulence was a wake-up call, and it conferred a priceless prajñā, a deeper comprehension of my situation along with a purifying wisdom. It also gave me a shot into a core exercise needed for living—and far too often neglected because the next crisis isn’t yet at hand. In that sense it was an acceleration, by grace and my willingness to drop instantly on red alert into my spot. It wasn’t Dzogchen, for I am nowhere near that perfection of practice, but it was a fleeting “Dzogchen-like” view.

Just keep breathing and returning to the origination self. Identify with the boundless luminosity of the self rather than the crimped field of the ego. When you fall into the origination self, you experience how vast, comforting, and embracing it is, your actual vortex in the universe is, of everything, of every frayed, frantic, and futile energy. Try it this instant. Where and how are you forming?

You need an origination point for yourself and this mirage because eventually everything will be put on the line of what you actually are. There will be nothing other than originating energy to go toward and adhere to. The cabin doors will have closed for good.

2. The System exists to test heart/courage at every level, to make us big-hearted, courageous beings in the most plenary and comprehensive sense.

It can’t be done any other way. There are no shortcuts or bypasses. The goal is not only to explore the emerging depth of an unknown, multi-tiered, meta-dimensional universe—not only to transmit our own exquisite and obscure meanings, desires, and sensations into the Akashic records and heart of the Cosmos itself and to its expanding Unity Soul—it is to make All That Is what it is.

Desire (remember) is not what we want or think we want. Desire is the aggregate of all the information the cosmos is packing into us from all the different aspects and dimensions of ourselves while trying to express and explain and manifest and entice into experience as many dimensions of Creation as it can—at our birth and throughout our span. Even though desires mostly present themselves to us as ordinary, their origin is beyond anything we can track. They only feel like run-of-the-mill personal predilections in order to propose a private universe that dares to expand transpersonally—to get our narcissized attention.

You fulfill your desires and become happy not by going at them as absolute priorities and unquestioned goals and then logging your “scores” one by one on your tablet. You fulfill your desires by not focusing or obsessing on them, while running energy through your aura and remaining open to life as it is. You cannot bend the universe to your wishes; instead you expand into their multidimensional source and actuality. You hit the cosmic “meaning” barrier at full speed like a Cossack warrior melding with his favorite horse across the steppes. It doesn’t matter if you are headed toward love or battle or just riding. Desire is not only how you identify yourself but how you know the kind of universe that self is in.

3. Inside bodies, expansion and contraction are inevitable, the systole-diastole of the creationary wave. We expand into big-hearted curiosity, generosity, catharsis, and gumption; then we contract into despairing greedy guardedness, compelled by old superstitions, unconscious curse-patterns, and sissy hexes.

This is more or less what I experienced as a child (alternations of terror and euphoria) because children are in the Eternity System too, even though their families act as if they are exempt.

Eventually our expansions will increase, as our contractions get briefer. At least, that is what we hope for.

4. Time is a cone into which we are forcibly yet receptively injected. Temporality changes everything else to become this. Its vortex generates incalculable degrees of variety, which get resolved only in timelessness—which is where we are not.

Time is the arena for working out a timeless drama (a grail quest and ceremony) at the precise and shifting apex of the cone itself.

5. The universe is fair in the sense that it will give you all the time you need in order to get it right—meaning whatever it takes in terms of births, deaths, shapes, energy fields, and situations to open your heart and spirit and meet Creation where it is, which is where you are too. Everything else (along the way) is neither fair nor unfair.

Another person—a parent, guru, teacher, lover, buddy—can only open the door. That door takes on many shapes and multiple appearances. Whatever—it is you who finally have to walk through it. It is you who have to summon the courage, wisdom, wonder, and discipline that walking through entails.

All these takeaways were scrawled in my notebook during the flight from Kahului to Oakland.

Six months later, while kayaking in Long Pond in Southwest Harbor, Maine, I stopped in the lake’s center, a basin of energy gouged out by a glacier and over a hundred feet deep. I set my paddle down and closed my eyes. I imagined that the lake was the universe. Then the lake became the universe—the night sky, the Galaxy—and its trickle of water was a celestial sound. In truth, the lake is the universe, and the gulls I heard crying out are galactic citizens.

ix. Cosmic Eternity on Earth

Most religions and religious orders tell you that in order to get into the Eternity System, you have to make a big-time switch from the attitudes and habits of everyday life (the mundane and profane) to sustained sacred attention or mystical awareness. Until you do that or start the ball rolling in that direction, you are squandering a fortunate birth. Usually this switch involves a lifestyle change, a personal sacrifice and/or sustained devotion or participation in a devotional mode.

It is not that the world’s religions don’t recognize the sacredness of ordinary life. They do indeed, and emphasize, each in their way, that there is no schism at all between its sacred and profane vibrations—creation itself is sacred. Yet, at the same time, they work to construct temples, churches, kivas, mosques, monasteries, and other sequestered holy zones. Collectively they have spent thousands of years developing ceremonies, methods, and meditations for getting out of the muck into the sacred vibe and its Divine mystery. It’s all good.

What’s intrinsic in aggregate spirituality as well as the universe as a meta-system is this: You have to do any and all of the above, acknowledge the dharma as dharma, not fritter away the special hours of your life on trivial acts and superficial diversions or titillations. You have to actively deepen your connection to the Divine and then keep your attention at that depth. You have to literally recognize and accept too that every moment spent not doing a spiritual practice is also sacred, and not just sacred but sacred in the peculiar, idiosyncratic way in which it is unfolding. You have to allow and warrant this not just in the sense of knowing it intellectively but knowing it and tying it to your practice and spiritual allegiance by a continually renewed pledge. The System is about salvaging and elucidating truancy, transgression, lounging with tacos and margaritas, and plain old laziness and hedonism, and making them sacred too—because that’s the only way to fine-tune the sanctified vibrations as well.

There are two breakpoints (breaking points) in this book. One is institutional neuroscience’s and physics’ attempt to shoehorn phenomenal consciousness into the universe by way of those oft-mentioned trillionfold quantum switches and synapses. The other is institutional Buddhism’s escorting of daily trance consciousness out of favor by tuning our attention to the self-originating luminosity. Both are admirable; each is brilliant in its way; each offers a theory of truth. But neither quite values temporal existence as a legitimate cosmic power-broker. Neither accepts that ordinary, mulligan consciousness has to exist for anything to exist (or that “we” have to exist mundanely for stuff to arise elsewhere).

Matter is not only random molecular activity refined through membranes and neural networks—it is enunciating something. It is far too delicate, specific, heartrending, and discrete not to be enunciating something.

Of course these are drastic oversimplifications of science and Buddhism, but they are the backwash across which my proposition rides.

There is oft-mentioned operational difference too between most Buddhist systems and most theosophical ones: whether to empty self-arising thoughtforms to achieve a state of simple joy (Buddhism) or to fill them with the baseline bliss vibration (theosophy). Of course (again), both traditions empty and fill thoughtforms with bliss, so the distinction settles at a finer level: whether you consider the ground luminosity of the universe to be full or empty. But, since it is always both, it becomes a question how you choose to match your true nature to a chord oscillating between emptiness and joy.

Everything we do here is incredible, and everything we do here is ordinary, and that is incredible. When we greet each other on the trail, in plazas and hallways, within grand vistas and on the battlefields of the world, recognizing that we share a condition, sometimes in harmony, sometimes in strife, that in itself as well as what follows during each encounter is incredible too but, in being ordinary at the same time, gives rise to what it creates, gesture by gesture, as it pulls itself and us simultaneously out of the background of a universe that must once have been unconscious to all this because there was no place else to hide it. There is no place to put it now either, and that is why our lives are ordinary and extraordinary both.

You have to honor the Earth and incarnation that you are: the sensory and cognitive terms of your body-mind, your personality, your ethnic constellation, your historical time on a planet, and the down-time tastes and habits that you are cultivating under those regimes. What you are under present density is even more crucial than what you might be if enlightened. Furthermore, bringing those potential ranges into each other’s frequency—rather than trying to supplant common existence with transcendence—seems to be what the universe is not only telling us but installing in us through our bodies and nervous systems, telling us and creatures like us elsewhere.

John Friedlander hits this subtext running in terms of the gap between Eastern systems promoting nondual awareness (the preemptively sacred) and Western systems advocating active participation in duality (the irreconcilably profane). From his standpoint, there is no intrinsic problem with either approach (and, as noted, they each have as big a hand in the other’s pie). There is a problem only with the intention to make a particular view of the universe the sole path to true self-realization (see Volume Two, Chapter Eight, for an extended discussion of this topic).

When one declares a privileged Divine path, one depreciates its “anti-path,” hence unintentionally empowering it with a shadow consciousness that continuously flips or blights the mission. For John the alternate mode to nondual awareness (or sustained enlightenment) is a psychically expanding, multi-personhood universe.

Seth explained as best as he could jimmy into his breeze why we are where we are, in an unevolved, unenlightened muddle, and why that’s also the ideal place from which to get into the Eternity System because it’s the “local” that the Eternity System is projecting into our moment of egoic being. John summarized these matters in an email to a Buddhist critic of his own writings in which he emphasized the distinction between a Buddhic or Atmic level of kensho and a more mundane Astral level, from the standpoint that the Astral level is equally dharmic, equally cosmic and sacred, and also inescapable:

Seth recognizes impermanence and interdependent origination while inverting the implication of these spiritual insights, valuing each person’s life in duality in his/her own terms, for his/her own purposes. Duality and conceptual thought, rather than mere delusion or even, according to Ken Wilber, a dualistic hell, are investigations on the part of nondual aspects of ourselves that cannot learn what they need without our dual experience.… Those who are engaged in non-conceptual thought no longer have emotions that vibrate in the Astral plane. This Astral vibration is central to the projects of our souls and the Earth, and to our own multi-personhood. Thus the person who is consciously, that is, neurologically, aware of his/her nondual nature no longer fills the human spiritual ecological niche of connecting our souls and Mother Earth. While they don’t fill that niche, they can, of course, be a huge blessing to all humans; though I think their day is passing. The coming group consciousness will only be possible for our waking selves when humanity has fully developed its capacity to generate dualistic stories with relatively little resistance. Being enlightened implies nothing about one’s emotional maturity.…

In our tradition, only emotions that vibrate in the Astral plane are emotions.… When Ken Wilber says he experiences emotions, only more joyously and more vividly, I can see that he has his individual response to bodily experience, and that his response is more pleasant and joyous than Astral emotions. Still, those non-Astral responses are not what we call emotions and don’t satisfy the vital purposes of Astral, conceptual emotions to one’s multi-personhood. This is controversial, but those “non-emotion” emotions leave saints like Muktananda susceptible to Astral energies that get pushed, for a while, entirely out of the aura. At best those lost emotions remain unaddressed throughout their entire life. In Muktananda’s case they led to criminal misconduct, though my guides have him, from certain important perspectives, as the most enlightened person of his era. It was the sheer magnitude of his enlightenment that brought those Astral emotions back into his space. When they returned, he didn’t have the experience or neurological organization to deal with their conceptual nature.77

That is to say, everything is in play, and there is no reliable Lonely Planet Guide or favorite lost sutra for salvation. Even as some practices are consummating in sublime forms, others are tumbling back through the Shadow into unenlightened transgressions, even when enacted by enlightened beings. It’s not an easy universe to solve and not an easy body to live in. Old-fashioned ethics and morality are often the only red lights that say “Stop! Do Not Go Here!” when every other indication says: “I’ve got it made, so why not?”

But even that misstep doesn’t make your routine activities any less sacred, though it does put you on a slow track, perhaps even a very slow track. Ultimately, though, it doesn’t matter because every train is headed to the station.

On the other hand, without a continuity of immaculate attention you will dawdle almost forever in getting to a sacred recognition or sustained joy awareness.

This is a subtle distinction: practice but don’t overpractice; try to make every act a practice.

It is human nature to judge and compare oneself to others. People get downright harsh on their own behaviors when they start fucking up, telling themselves (one way or another) that they are just plain losers. What you mainly don’t want to do, I believe, is beat yourself up about not practicing or not practicing well, and then cheapen or downgrade the intervening moments and experiences, which may be most of your life. You want to do both—the sacred and the profane—at the same time and at their own proper frequencies. Hone your psychospiritual skills and also permit everything not under their auspices or in their range to be just as good or even better (spiritually) in the sense that they have their own divine identity and caliber of the real.

The point, the mission is not to stop doing dumb stuff or even stop critiquing it but to comprehend what it actually is and the huge and radical spiritual potential it has.

Just to exist is the whole game. To exist inside the system. Once you arise in the System, nothing can get you out and nothing doesn’t have a meaning, a meaning that reflects and reverberates throughout the cosmos. Find it and dub it into autopilot. It won’t always work and it mostly won’t work, but when it does, it will penetrate and enhance everything else, even what is long past, duly evaluated, and sealed away.

It isn’t abstract joy or peak experience or incipient satori that you have to cultivate here in order to resonate with the Eternity System. It is the joy you know and have felt thousands of times: in waves of passion or love, in canyons and waterfalls, in wild things, in cheering your team to victory, in the birth of a child, in a blue and gold day (beautiful planet by the way, this here Earth).

It is childhood with its toys and games. It is the gratification of a sharp business deal, a scientific breakthrough, forgiveness and redemption, an act of purification. It is quiet recognition of another; it is sharing Creation with an animal. It is jumping in a lake on a sweltering day, it is a fire in winter. It is”Never, ever change./Keep that breathless charm.”

It is glamour, a great meal, a wrapped gift. It is grief and despair with their nuances and bite. It is longing, losing, and finding, and (of course)just being at all.

x. Cosmic Eternity as Cobras and Cobwebs

If you’re wondering what I’m really saying, it’s time to put Dark Pool of Light in a rose and blow it up again.

I don’t have a theory or model for the universe. There couldn’t be a theory and model for the kind of thing I am trying to say. We just exist, whatever else comes down the pike, and that’s enough to establish surrogate meaning. Whether I believe a word of my diatribes or can frame them into a “Ken Wilber”-like integral model of the universe and reality—stop right there—I can’t.

What are you knowing and feeling this very moment? Take some time not only to explore and interrogate it; be receptive to the quality and tone of its actual presence. Be aware that there has to be something in you—whatever “you” are—that tunes and shapes your reality into recognition, as well as something else that is rolling, wave after wave, onto your shore.

At the heart of that manifestation is a realm that is unique to you but that you and I share or we wouldn’t be meeting here. I have no interest in declaring what it is, which would be pretending to declare what it is anyway; I am interested only in cultivating its subtle qualities, in making it more subtle and wondrous to you and me both, and to itself and thereby pitching in to move the stone—the stone that blocks our way but the stone that simply is and can’t be moved.

I once asked meta-astronomer cum cosmic clown Richard Hoagland if he really believed any of his stuff about a Face on Mars or the remains of cities and ancient battles there. He replied with a smile, a smile that could have gone either way, “Every other Tuesday and Thursday.”

This book is “every other Tuesday and Thursday.” Any model of the Cosmic System is a story or a fantasy, but we are not a fantasy, as our existence manumits energies and frames of which we have only raw intimation. We are multidimensional beings on a vibrational continuum of which we are able to measure less than one percent—less than one percent of an actual universe we live in. Re-enter Lonsdale:

“Whoever you are, wherever you’ve gotten to, something is being asked of you now that you haven’t gotten to. Do not fall for the error of thinking you’ve done this. You haven’t.…”78

No, we haven’t.

Notice how wind, mist, lightning, thunder, and rain combine to create a storm with its changes of phenomenology. The process is pure local physics, a sequence of molecular and electromagnetic field effects, but it is also a portent of something else, something happening for the first time in the universe, something almost real.

As evaporation turns ground water into clouds and a cool, breezy dousing of the land, the rubric is alchemy. It originates at the core of another system that is invisible to us and will always be invisible in the ways we are looking.

When scientists try to anchor their own unified field theory in the Big Bang and conceive of this entire universe as created in the middle of nowhere out of, essentially, nothing, or go on a snark hunt among atoms and then subatomic particles and gamma rays for the baseline of matter, in the search itself they are falling short of the real complexity of the system or an explanation for this astounding manifestation. They are limiting themselves to a cognitive resolution of an intellectual problem.

I want to emphasize how important it is to experience the world and this life as fresh rather than some semantic proposition or scientifico–religious narrative posited as definitive. As physics determines the ultimate fate of particles, the universe itself, unfolding out of mystery into mystery, determines the ultimate fate of consciousness and of personal identity. Its reign is absolute because there is nothing to challenge it. In fact there is nothing else, period: it is beyond ideology and, so far as we know, can do anything.

Then anything it does means what it is. The universe, under showtime conditions, is only what it is, profoundly so. It overthrows every heresy and apostasy, anti-scientific as well as scientific, because everything is a heresy or apostasy. It will not be denied, even in its own name.

Evolutionary biologists pronounce that creatures are drawn to the allure of sexual partners and orgasm because mutations synthesized that effect for obvious reasons and were installed in genomes by the increased number of offspring bearing that mutation in each subsequent generation. Neuroscientists don’t challenge that prognosis but identify it in terms of precise Darwinian pleasure-inducers in the brain. Freudian theoreticians don’t challenge it either but give independent weight to a neurally represented libidinal flow that streams across the famed matter-mind barrier while turning its molecules into consciousness’s forms and meanings.

Renegade Freudian disciple Wilhelm Reich takes the epitome further by flipping its terms around to propound that the pure creationary energy of nature, orgone, bears the absolute meaning contained in the act of biological copulation: a preexisting cosmic precept tapped subsequently by biological systems for interpolation into procreational reward cycles. A primary archetype or eternal form rather than a cynically self-organizing system is why sex feels the way it does.

I think that these are all correct—on this matter as well as similar etiologies, both scientific and psychological, regarding the origin and destiny of consciousness in its manifold forms, for instance, sociobiological explanations of self-sacrifice as based in genes maximizing the number of their alleles shared within future generations. But each paradigm only follows the universe for a short pace, and then reality bends away into other paradoxes of its sheer depth and the destiny inside its latency, for “being” itself.

I am talking about a failure of teleological imagination. All we have are cover stories for our unknown past or future. Rosy or bleak is irrelevant, scientific or New Age; none of the stories cuts at the actual depth of the universe.

The “Akash” isn’t Newtonian, Darwinian, Heisenbergian, Buddhist, theosophical, hermetic, Pentecostal. It is everything and much more; it is a multi-perspectival, holospheric Borgesian library within a Kabbalistic library within “The Matrix.” It is William Burroughs trying to shoot the head off a cobra with an Uzi in order to propel himself into the Etheric and make an escape route out of this dimension. It is Philip K. Dick receiving the grail from a hidden brotherhood of armed knights and descrying the victory of Christ as Lord of the Cosmos over Astral (planetary) determinism and the causal, unthinking mechanism of Fate as “a living creature of cosmic size, wisdom scope, and power infiltrating the natural (i.e., deterministic) order of nature.”79 It is Chris Rock saying that the only other black guys in his neighborhood are superstars like Denzel Washington, Mary J. Blige, and Jay-Z, but his next-door neighbor is a dentist: “And he isn’t like the greatest dentist in history either … a black dentist in my neighborhood would have to invent teeth.”80 It is the Maori Ngakau Toa theater company performing a pre-Cook haka while enacting Shakespeare’s Troilus and Cressida in London in their native language.

It is academics at a scientific conference on the nature of consciousness, it is stoners at a rave, it is indigenous Peruvians in an ayahuasca ceremony, it is Australian Aborigines doing the Emu Ceremony circa 200 BCE. It is the Dogon dancing the Dama. They are all in the system, so they define not only reality (“it is what it is”) but teleology. It is the collective hum of Antarctic penguins matching the frequency of an anti-war rally in New York as well as every other mantra, chant, ditty, Om, ska, jazz, and pop lullaby arising from the planet—now, then, or to be—passively and collectively in the blue-green aura and psychic shock wave that Earth is dispatching into the cosmos.

Any way you look at it, the consciousness gestalt is expanding, and this insane reality we imbibe as early twenty-first-century ghosts on Earth is already developing holes, switchbacks, and unauthorized corridors as a deeper reality is penetrating it at every level, getting into its daily life and political and economic tumult as well as our dreams. As novelty penetrates what is already here, it changes it fundamentally, but (again) only into what it actually is.

I invite John Friedlander to take a spell at the podium again and put his signature on an old piece of jazz. C’mon Jack, lay your rack:

The idea is to attend to whatever’s up, whenever it is, with an openness to the experience. You can play with time. The principal advantage you get out of that is that it helps you actually respond to the deeper meaningfulness of every moment. Even when we say “the meaning of a moment,” we are packaging it in linear time and limiting ourselves from really getting the meaningfullness, which is every moment expanding in all directions. So I think the primary reason to become much more flexible with time, at least psychologically, is that it opens us up for an embracing of meaningfulness that does not fit in linear time—though linear time is part of the playground in which we generate that.

A secondary advantage is that creation doesn’t really happen in linear time. As Seth says, “Every cell in your body straddles probabilities and is constantly reading past and future probable realities and making decisions underneath your conscious awareness.” That’s one of the ways in which your reality gets assembled. There are other ways in which your reality gets assembled, and very few of them actually operate in linear time. And as you get more playful with that, you’ll have a better time of getting out of your own way.

But for some reason we want to use our emerging psychic abilities to avoid experience: “How can I get from here to there without making any mistakes, John? Is my soul stupid or something? Why am I here?”

From one point of view I can see why people think it ought to be that way, but at its extreme, I’m constantly seeing people saying, “I don’t like my boss. I don’t like what’s going on. I’m going to work on the laws of attraction or my beliefs or creative visualization, and I’m going to make money by day-trading or betting on the horses or getting on Oprah, and then I’ll be so wealthy that I’m going to become a philanthropist, and that’s how I’m going to create value.”

It’s sort of, “with my brains and the universe’s money, it’s really going to work well.” That approach omits the process of cultivating experience in time, with night and day—that’s a part of time, night and day.

People are looking for jobs, so they call up a psychic and say, “What job should I apply for, that I can get and that I’ll love?” There’s no opportunity for them to learn anything in the process of applying for jobs. But part of the reason you apply for jobs and you go on interviews is to develop your skills as a human being and learn something about what’s out there. Most of us want to jump over that: “Oh, I hate applying for jobs!” Well, there’s a good reason why you hate applying for jobs; it’s a grueling, awful process. However, if you engage things with kindness and generosity for yourself and others, it’s not nearly as grueling, it’s not nearly as awful, and you generate so much spiritual freedom out of it.

So why can’t you just skip that and generate spiritual freedom by working on your beliefs or regulating your intent or creative visualization? Well, all those things are really great, but they are not a substitute for engaging the rhythms and the experience of life.

There’s a phrase in the Jewish prayerbook, “Thanks for the day and its work and the night and its rest,” or something like that. There’s a rhythm there, of you go out and you do stuff and you have interactions and then you go to sleep, and you take that experience apart, and you explore it outside of the everyday, and then the next morning you do it again. And there’s summer, fall, winter, and spring. Those things have rhythms to them, but most of us want to win the lottery rather than go through the experience. We want to have a hike without putting our feet on the ground.… Somehow or other, I really think that if we understand time differently, we’d be less likely to want a guarantee that we know the path.81

The only alternative to taking our existence in the universe seriously—and not only seriously but seriously in the sense that every moment is connected to every other moment and to Eternity, and not just connected but connected as exactly what it is and will be forever—is (again) to concede utter meaninglessness and personal demolition. It is (and I am walking a thin line here to put it this way) to march willingly to the gas chamber and acquiesce in the belief that the best possible deal that any of us can negotiate at this point is to be put out of our misery before the pain gets too great to bear. We want to be proven nothing, made nothing, eradicated or incinerated into nothing, even though the “wanting” itself begs its very question. Should the wanter be expunged too? Then who is left to care about the outcome either way? Incarnation in this view is a low-yield proposition—brief entertainment on a dead-end street. It is vacant, and most of its repasts are ultimately vapid.

This is the consolidated view of modernity, and most of its enforcers are decent people, humanitarians, which shows how broad and deep the spell over the present Earth is. Religionists, scientists, politicians, and merchants are all in agreement and collusion here. See the way I open the next and last chapter.

But we can’t break the original Catch-22: we have to want to exist, and then exist, in order to want not to exist. That is Shakespeare’s question for Hamlet: “To sleep, perchance to Dream; Ay, there’s the rub,/For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,/When we have shuffled off this mortal coil.…”82 To extinguish the self that wants to be extinguished is to have to fight off our own integral etiology, which can’t be done. What dreams indeed!

At the same time, we can’t ride a pink Cadillac into nirvana, regardless of the fact that there are many moments when we seem to be driving exactly such a vehicle—and it isn’t a car.

But if someone says (even if it is just a voice in your own head) that you are being gullible or self-indulgent and you better get with the real program—or some asshole adds, in keeping with the modernist, capitalist, materialist agenda, that there is no depth to the system and you are just jacking yourself off—you’ve got to answer (as best you can) with free-speech activist Mario Savio and fellow anti-war folk singer Phil Ochs:

“I ain’t marchin’ anymore.…”83

Check him out on YouTube if a live version is there (Ochs sitting under a tree with a guitar and some rapt young folks was removed during the writing of this book). A meaning travels outward in the tonation of his voice, in the pacing of the syllables within the melody as well as in the realization that Ochs took his own life young (hanged himself in a Chicago flat at thirty-five). The sacred side of his bipolar disorder radiates profoundly and indelibly into the cosmos through his lyrics and melody from his Heart chakra and intrinsic Buddhic vibration (… all we have done/with a saber and a gun …). You can match the song in your own aura and blend with his presence (in a video or by another visualization).

After hearing Bob Dylan in Greenwich Village the first time, Ochs joked that his ambition now was to be the “second-best songwriter” of his generation. Yet he radiated a fourth-chakra precision, a closely worded authenticity (… a ghost without a name/stands ragged in the rain …) that resonates still across the lower chakras with a jolt and whammy that belie the rugged simplicity of the message. Dylan goes much higher into the blue-indigo range but not as deep into the Heart.

Introducing “I Ain’t Marching Anymore” at a 1968 performance, Ochs proclaimed, “Here you are, helpless soul, a helpless piece of flesh, amid all this cruel, cruel machinery and terrible, heartless men.” He meant it literally and on more than one level, both personally and collectively. During the last year of his life he said that he was now John Butler Train, that Train had murdered Ochs and replaced him, that a cabal (foreshadowing the enigmatic Men in Black) was now out to kill Train.

Savio foreshadowed Ochs’s mantra on the Sproul Hall steps of the University of California at Berkeley, December 2, 1964: “There’s a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious—makes you so sick at heart—that you can’t take part. You can’t even passively take part. And you’ve got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels, upon the levers, upon all the apparatus, and you’ve got to make it stop. And you’ve got to indicate to the people who run it, to the people who own it, that unless you’re free, the machine will be prevented from working at all.”84

You can take these prophetic voices deeper, far deeper, to a psychic level, where they are still channeled and channeling, and mean a lot more than the slogans or vibe of the Sixties or the anti-war movement or politics themselves or even Planet Earth. Ochs was born in El Paso, raised in Ohio, attended a military academy in Virginia, and found his metier at Ohio State. Savio was born in New York City, devout Catholic parents, his father a Sicilian immigrant steel worker. He was an altar boy planning to become a priest, then found a holy voice in Sproul Plaza.

Check out Ochs’s “When I’m Gone.” It holds a place between everything the Eternity System is and everything the world that he left isn’t: “Won’t see the golden of the sun when I’m gone … /All my days won’t be dances of delight when I’m gone,/And the sands will be shifting from my sight when I’m gone.…” Match its vibration precisely at your own. That’s life, and that’s death, and then that’s life again.

You can continue to expand his hope and possibility, as well as your own, into the cosmos. You can tell him, we’re in this together and we hear ya: we gotta build something different, something new someday. You can let him know, wherever he is now, because you are somewhere too.

A blogger named TheEarlBounty wrote under a YouTube version* of this song, “I dreamed I saw Phil Ochs last night, I said ‘Phil you’re 34 years dead,’ ‘I never died,’ said he. So long as this song does what it does and has the impact that it can have, so long as his beautiful voice inspires others to actions he lives on in all of us, he never died. Phil killed Phil, he couldn’t kill Phil’s music.”

Send Phil Ochs a message that we’re still listening, and it’s all okay. Conduct that same message inward toward your own heart. Now let’s open the gate for everyone:

When I was young and foolish and first tuning into higher worlds [Ellias Lonsdale admits], I believed the Earth experience was on its way out. I believed that it was becoming passé to take on a body. It was becoming obsolete to get immersed in all the gritty gunk of the physical plane like sex and love and food and digestion and parking tickets. I believed cosmic transcendence was gonna take charge around here, to such an extent that Three-D Reality would fall away, and we’d ascend into greater and greater worlds and be done with all this.

What I feel today is that, yes, that’s a cool idea, in its way. That idea has some merit.

But there’s something about this world, this moment, this way of being here in this level of existence that is so profound

 

*www.youtube.com/watch?v=IQd_zLZevzQ for now.

 

 

 

 

that I wouldn’t trade it in for any cosmic space however sublime. Rather, I want to renew my physical existence, quicken it, come to it afresh, find all over again what it’s all about. I want to immerse myself in the great give-and-take of human beingness. I want to stay with this outrageous Festival of the Senses until I give it everything I’ve got and it gives me everything it has in store for me.

I know there are finer worlds out there.

But there’s something about this moment in history in this world that is so worth getting into that I don’t want to squander any of it. I don’t want to sleepwalk through this changing of the guard. I don’t want to waste one nanosecond at the festival wishing I was someplace else.…

The reason spirit beings care so much about what goes on here, the reason they work diligently and lovingly for our species, is to catalyze something that’s never been in the entire Eternity System. What’s never happened is for spirit to sink to the utter depths of matter and ignite. We don’t know what that looks like; nobody anywhere in the universe knows what that looks like, but we will soon.…

The great human experiment is to see if the high spirit forces could inject a dose of their refined essence into a dense physical species, stepping down their cosmic voltage into the lower frequency of humans, and seed that species in the Earth, giving them free will to make their own choices, and have that species not get totally bogged down in the density but awaken to its greater potential and fill the physical plane with its light.85

The Cosmic Eternity System is fruitful and manifesting at full throttle now: mosquitoes and daisies and new stars and planets; heroin hits, gang shootouts, and lap dances of matter.

What’s it like to fly through [the] Cosmos while being right here on Earth? What’s it like to be in the body with all senses aroused, with no wish to be gone from any of it, but a profound urge to share it and partake in it and be with it all?86

This entire canopy and array of illuminated terrain is infused with the stuff of gods and angels so that it glows through every particle and hillock with essence, even this far out from its unclaimable center. Every atom and molecule, atomicity and molecularity, is fizzing with esoteric information. Every meteor and lava bed carries the signature of a psychically imploded universe.

What is it to be incarnate on Earth 2012, riding through urban traffic on your bike to a game of hoops, the ball’s cold roundness strung to your bare back by the tension of an old T-shirt? A sparrow eats seeds off the hood of a Hummer, you see the sheer breadth of cosmic consciousness at a glance. And that’s just local.

How did the universe get so lush and imminent, so personal and sentimental? Then how did it get itself inside an acorn?

Look at that vague collection of cobwebs, dust, and dead insects in a patch of light under the chair. You can’t evade it, you can’t bypass it or the feelings it arouses, you can’t transfer yourself anywhere else.

Why does any universe let such a thing arise as, perchance, Leonard Cohen singing “I remember you well/at the Chelsea Hotel,” or for that matter the “Chelsea Hotel” itself or New York City 1970, or Haight-Ashbury, or Janis Joplin, or an unmade bed? In what universe is Frank Sinatra crooning, “It was a very good year,” and small-town girls, and “fine old kegs/from the brim to the dregs” and soft summer nights on the village green?

What the universe is telling us is that it wants all of it. It needed someone to go here, but not everyone was into it or willing to be a guinea pig. We’re the ones who did and—guess what!—it is drop-dead amazing. Everything is happening at multiple levels in multiple contradictions at an unimaginably sumptuous density, and it is utterly vulgar, profane, sacred, sweet, and perfect.

Message back to the rest of the universe: “Aren’t you sorry now that you didn’t volunteer?”

All of it! Do you get how fucking amazing this is?

Life on Earth is something you agreed to out of your entire heart and soul and being. It’s something you chose, when you had the foresight to know what you were choosing. Your life path is something you codesigned, in tandem with higher beings, to release the unique gift of your inner nature to the world. Life is something you knew you could give yourself over to, and by doing that, receive everything in return.…87

Game on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seven. The Cosmic Eternity System

1. Mark Borax and Ellias Lonsdale, Cosmic Weather Report: Notes from the Edge of the Universe (Berkeley, California: North Atlantic Books, 2010), p. 191.

2. Pir Zia Inayat Khan, “A Hidden Treasure,” unpublished manuscript, 2011. “All is perishing except His Face” is from the Qur’an 28:88; “The Earth was without form, and void” is from Genesis 1:2.

3. John Friedlander, “Focused Meditation,” September 11, 2011.

4. Philip K. Dick, from “The Exegesis,” unpublished essay, 1974, www.philipkdick.com/new_ex-thevictory.html. (In 1974, after he had an experience which he described as “an invasion of my mind by a transcendentally rational mind,” Philip K. Dick began recording his thoughts about it in a journal called “The Exegesis.”)

5. Contact Has Begun: A True Story, with James Gilliland, directed by Micheal Knight, A Savage Documentary, DVD, 2012.

6. Ibid.

7. James Gilliland, quoted in Frank Bures (September 2001), “Aliens, Anomalies, and Absurdity at Mt. Adams,” The Portland Mercury, March 1, 2007.

8. James Gilliland, quoted in Joe Schoenmann, “Among Believers,” Las Vegas Weekly, April 23, 2004.

9. Contact Has Begun: A True Story, with James Gilliland.

10. Ibid.

11. Ibid.

12. Ibid.

13. James Gilliland, quoted in Frank Bures.

14. Contact Has Begun: A True Story, with James Gilliland.

15. Ibid.

16. Ibid.

17. John Friedlander and Gloria Hemsher, Psychic Psychology: Energy Skills for Life and Relationships (Berkeley, California: North Atlantic Books, 2011), p. 185.

18. “Blinded Eagle” (Nommy), On Transcendence Mountain, channeled by Kimmie Ross and transcribed by Bethany Savage Klyver (Southwest Harbor, Maine: unpublished manuscript, 2012).

19. Ibid.

20. Ibid.

21. Raymond Moody, Life after Life (New York: Bantam Books, 1975), p. 48.

22. Ibid., pp. 21–22.

23. Alan Gordon, personal account, 1995 (repunctuated). Since it is not available elsewhere and quite powerful, I am offering the main chunk.

24. Raymond Moody, Life after Life, p. 45.

25. Eben Alexander, www.helpingparentsheal.info/#!videos, 2012.

26. Eben Alexander, www.facebook.com/groups/humanconciousnessgroup
/10150859034007433/.

27. See David Chamberlain, The Mind of Your Newborn Baby (Berkeley, California: North Atlantic Books, 1998) and the website www.birthpsychology.com.

28. Elizabeth M. Carman and Neil J. Carman, Cosmic Cradle: Souls Waiting for Birth, Selected Stories (Fairfield, Iowa: Sunstar Publishing, Ltd., 1999), p. 17.

29. This is from verbal testimony gathered in David Chamberlain, Windows on the Womb: Your First Nine Months (unpublished manuscript, tentatively North Atlantic Books, 2013).

30. Elizabeth M. Carman and Neil J. Carman, Cosmic Cradle: Spiritual Dimensions of Life before Birth, revised edition (Berkeley, California: North Atlantic Books, forthcoming 2012).

31. Ibid.

32. Emanuel Swedenborg quoted in Raymond Moody, Life after Life, p. 124.

33. Elizabeth M. Carman and Neil J. Carman, Cosmic Cradle: Souls Waiting for Birth, pp. 341–342.

34. Ibid., p. 342.

35. Theresa Danna, “‘Mommy, I’m Coming!’ Psychic Birth Announcements,” unpublished undated newsletter, Gardnersville, Nevada.

36. Ibid.

37. Elizabeth M. Carman and Neil J. Carman, Cosmic Cradle: Souls Waiting for Birth, p. 182.

38. Ibid., pp. 25–26.

39. Richard Grossinger, 2013: Raising the Earth to the Next Vibration (Berkeley, California: North Atlantic Books, 2011), p. 529.

40. John Friedlander and Gloria Hemsher, Psychic Psychology, p. 179 (see note 17).

41. John Friedlander, “Focused Meditation,” September 11, 2011.

42. Dudjom Rinpoche, Jikdrel Yeshe Dorje, The Nyingma School of Tibetan Buddhism: Its Fundamentals and History, Volume One: Translations, translated and edited by Gyurme Dorje with the collaboration of Matthew Kapstein (Boston: Wisdom Publications, 1991), p. 204 (rearranged and repunctuated for clarity).

43. John Friedlander, The Big Picture: Joy, Meaning, and Luminosity, workshop, February 2012 (slightly rearranged).

44. John Friedlander and Gloria Hemsher, Psychic Psychology, p. 191.

45. Ibid., p. 181.

46. Ibid., p. 201.

47. “Rebirth,” www.buddhanet.net/funbud10.htm.

48. Andrew Davidson, The Gargoyle (New York: Random House, 2008), p. 488.

49. John Friedlander and Gloria Hemsher, Psychic Psychology, p. 203.

50. John Friedlander, “Spring Intensive,” April 2011.

51. Greg Keith quoted in Nick Herbert, Elemental Mind: Human Consciousness and the New Physics (New York: Dutton, 1993), p. 269.

52. John Friedlander, “Focused Meditation,” September 11, 2011.

53. Alfred North Whitehead, Science and the Modern World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1926), p. 114.

54. John Friedlander and Gloria Hemsher, Psychic Psychology, p. 202.

55. Ibid., p. 200. (In his Winter Journal, novelist Paul Auster writes, “Some memories are so strange to you, so unlikely, so outside the realm of the plausible, that you find it difficult to reconcile them with the fact that you are the person who experienced the events you are remembering.” [New York: Henry Holt & Company, 2012])

56. Shepherd Hoodwin, The Journey of Your Soul: A Channel Explores Channeling and the Michael Teachings (Laguna Beach, California: Summerjoy Press, 1999), p. 202.

57. Ibid., p. 203.

58. Ibid., p. 202.

59. Barclay Powers, “Time Travel and the Nāgas of Eden,” unpublished essay, Eugene, Oregon, 2012.

60. John Friedlander and Gloria Hemsher, Psychic Psychology, p. 245.

61. John Friedlander, “Focused Meditation,” September 11, 2011.

62. The Master Therion, Aleister Crowley, Magick in Theory and Practice (New York: Castle Books, no date given), p. xiv.

63. Andrew Davidson, The Gargoyle, pp. 494–496.

64. Søren Kierkegaard, Repetition: An Essay in Existential Psychology (1843) (New York: Harper & Row, 1964).

65. John Friedlander, Etheric Energy and Magic, tele-class, September 2010.

66. Dalai Lama, “The Purpose of Life,” www.youtube.com/watch?v
=6IsiJ9eclpo&feature=g-vrec&context=G2c3e56dRVAAAAAAAAAA.

67. Ibid., p. 175.

68. Mark Borax and Ellias Lonsdale, Cosmic Weather Report, pp. 192–193 (see note 1 above).

69. Jane Roberts, Seth Speaks: The Eternal Validity of the Soul (Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1972), p. 505.

70. John Friedlander, “Focused Meditation,” September 11, 2011.

71. Ibid.

72. Ibid.

73. John Friedlander, October 2011 Intensive.

74. John Friedlander, The Big Picture: Joy, Meaning, and Luminosity, workshop.

75. Jane Roberts, Seth Speaks: The Eternal Validity of the Soul, p. 505.

76. This sentence is a blend of my original writing with material from a passage in an unpublished draft of Curtis McCosco, Maya Cosmos, Buddha Mind, Quantum World.

77. John Friedlander, “You might be interested in how I used your criticisms as a road map,” email, June 17, 2012.

78. Mark Borax and Ellias Lonsdale, Cosmic Weather Report, p. 193.

79. Philip K. Dick, from “The Exegesis,” 1974 (see endnote 4 above).

80. Chris Rock, “Kill the Messenger,” live performance, “No Apologies” tour, 2008, www.youtube.com/watch?v=53hXBg-U-ac57.

81. John Friedlander, Etheric Energy and Magic, tele-class, September 2010.

82. William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 1623, Act 3, Scene 1 (many folios and editions).

83. Phil Ochs, “I Ain’t Marchin’ Anymore,” Elektra, 1965. The very moving video I used (www.youtube.com/watch?v=SVCJC5wIFbA) was removed from YouTube for copyright infringement.

84. Mario Savio, December 2, 1964. The moment is iconic and can be viewed at www.youtube.com/watch?v=tcx9BJRadfw.

85. Mark Borax and Ellias Lonsdale, Cosmic Weather Report, pp. 80–82.

86. Ibid., p. 82.

87. Ibid., p. 83.

Page 331: From “We have zero notion” to “even a different mansion” is grafted from 2013: Raising the Earth to the Next Vibration, p. 53.

Page 332: From “If (for argument’s sake) you were a physicist” to “more dur-able such vapor” is grafted from 2013: Raising the Earth to the Next Vibration, p. 550.

Pages 332–334: From “When consciousness ceases being personal” to “butterfly after butterfly” is grafted from 2013: Raising the Earth to the Next Vibration, pp. 63–64.

Pages 357 and 395: The Song “The Way You Look Tonight,” written by Jerome Kern with lyrics by Dorothy Fields, is from the movie Swing Time, 1936.

Page 398: For Troilus and Cressida in Maori, see www.youtube.com
/watch?v=Bnq7qFKkGU4 and www.youtube.com/watch?v=7XGld-J5rEU.

Pages 401–403: Some of the Phil Ochs material was written after viewing Phil Ochs: There But For Fortune, a documentary directed by Kenneth Bowser.

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