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 |   As the first blog entry got exhausted. My second book |
| Evolution of Love Part 2 |
| Joan of Arc and Rouen : Rouen a vibrant port city on the banks of the river Seine is the capital of the northern region of Normandy . Rouen, has a pretty intense checkered history since the medieval times .. the gothic church and Roman ruins bear witnesses to those times . It was here in the Rouen cathedral the entombed heart of Richard the Lion Heart finds its final resting place …. What intrigued me to visit Rouen was my impression of Joan of Arc ! I think , I was in school when I read about her , her courage her fortitude … Joan who claimed to get divine visions led the French army to gain a momentous victory against the English in the Hundred year war . She was falsely accused on 70 counts on heresy , witchcraft , wearing men’s clothes and mercilessly dragged in the middle of the market square where she was burnt at the stake in front of a screaming mob ! Where her body rose into flames , 600 years later .. stands a cathedral in her honor a tall cross almost reaching the sky … the market stands still today where one can get the freshest of produce , cheese , fish , flowers .. you name it ! My appetite was quite dull as I thought back on the horror of the day when a young girl of only 19 , was so brutally put to her end . Not even the beauty of the Rouen cathedral could lift my senses … as we well know how even in present time the balance between justice and injustice still hangs dry ! The Witch is back and there's hell to pay." Is so very appropriate here.. |
| And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you meddling kids!” As the dream of most parents I had acquired a degree in Engineering and joined a company based in USA, the land of braves and opportunity. When I arrived in the USA, it was as if a dream had come true. Here at last I was in the place where I want to be. I decided I would be staying in this country for about Five years in which time I would have earned enough money to settle down in India. My father was a government employee and after his retirement, the only asset he could acquire was a decent one bedroom flat. I wanted to do something more than him. I started feeling homesick and lonely as the time passed. I used to call home and speak to my parents every week using cheap international phone cards. Two years passed, two years of Burgers at McDonald's and pizzas and discos and 2 years watching the foreign exchange rate getting happy whenever the Rupee value went down. Finally I decided to get married. Told my parents that I have only 10 days of holidays and everything must be done within these 10 days. I got my ticket booked in the cheapest flight. Was jubilant and was actually enjoying hopping for gifts for all my friends back home. If I miss anyone then there will be talks. After reaching home I spent home one week going through all the photographs of girls and as the time was getting shorter I was forced to select one candidate. In-laws told me, to my surprise, that I would have to get married in 2-3 days, as I will not get anymore holidays. After the marriage, it was time to return to USA, after giving some money to my parents and telling the neighbours to look after them, we returned to USA. My wife enjoyed this country for about two months and then she started feeling lonely. The frequency of calling India increased to twice in a week sometimes 3 times a week. Our savings started diminishing. After two more years we started to have kids. Two lovely kids, a boy and a girl, were gifted to us by the almighty. Every time I spoke to my parents, they asked me to come to India so that they can see their grand-children. Every year I decide to go to India,but part work part monetary conditions prevented it. Years went by and visiting India was a distant dream. Then suddenly one day I got a message that my parents were seriously sick. I tried but I couldn't get any holidays and thus could not go to India ... The next message I got was my parents had passed away and as there was no one to do the last rites the society members had done whatever they could. I was depressed. My parents had passed away without seeing their grand children. After couple more years passed away, much to my children's dislike and my wife's joy we returned to India to settle down. I started to look for a suitable property, but to my dismay my savings were short and the property prices had gone up during all these years. I had to return to the USA... My wife refused to come back with me and my children refused to stay in India... My two children and I returned to USA after promising my wife I would be back for good after two years. Time passed by, my daughter decided to get married to an American and my son was happy living in USA... I decided that I had enough and wound-up everything and returned to India... I had just enough money to buy a decent 02 bedroom flat in a well-developed locality. Now I am 60 years old and the only time I go out of the flat is for the routine visit to the nearby temple. My faithful wife has also left me and gone to the holy abode. Sometimes I wondered was it worth all this? My father, even after staying in India, Had a house to his name and I too have the same nothing more. I lost my parents and children for just ONE EXTRA BEDROOM. Looking out from the window I see a lot of children dancing. This damned cable TV has spoiled our new generation and these children are losing their values and culture because of it. I get occasional cards from my children asking I am alright. Well at least they remember me. Now perhaps after I die it will be the neighbors again who will be performing my last rights, God Bless them. But the question still remains 'was all this worth it?' I am still searching for an answer.................!!! START THINKING IS IT JUST FOR ONE EXTRA BEDROOM??? LIFE IS BEYOND THIS ..DON'T JUST LEAVE YOUR LIFE .. START LIVING IT . LIVE IT AS YOU WANT IT TO BE, EVEN WITH MEDDLING KIDS.. |
| He walked there, hoping to meet a tiger, and he did. The villagers had come to tell his host that a tiger had killed a young cow the previous night and would come back that night to the kill. Would they like to see it? A platform on a tree would be built and from there one could see the big killer and also they would tie a goat to the tree to make sure that the tiger would come. He said he wouldn't like to see a goat killed for his pleasure. So the matter was dropped. But late that afternoon, as the sun was behind a rolling hill, his host wished to go for a drive, hoping that they might by chance see the tiger that had killed the cow. They drove for some miles into the forest; it became quite dark and with the headlights on they turned back. They had given up every hope of seeing the tiger as they drove back. But just as they turned a corner, there it was, sitting on its haunches in the middle of the road, huge, striped, its eyes bright in the headlamps. The car stopped and it came towards them growling and the growls shook the car; it was surprisingly large and its long tail with its black tip was moving slowly from side to side. It was annoyed. The window was open and as it passed growling, he put out his hand to stroke this great energy of the forest, but his host hurriedly snatched his arm back, explaining later that it would have torn his arm away. It was a magnificent animal, full of majesty and power. Down there on that earth, there were tyrants denying freedom to man, ideologists shaping the mind of man, priests with their centuries of tradition and belief enslaving man; the politicians with their endless promises were bringing corruption and division. Down there man is caught in endless conflict and sorrow and in the bright lights of pleasure. It is all so utterly meaningless the pain, the labour and the words of philosophers. Death and unhappiness and toil, man against man. This complex variety, modified changes in the pattern of pleasure and pain, are the content of man's consciousness, shaped and conditioned by the culture in which it has been nurtured, with its religious and economic pressures. Freedom is not within the boundaries of such a consciousness; what is accepted as freedom is in reality a prison made somewhat livable in through the growth of technology. In this prison there are wars, made more destructive by science and profit. Freedom doesn't lie in the change of prisons, nor in any change of gurus, with their absurd authority. Authority does not bring the sanity of order. On the contrary it breeds disorder and out of this soil grows authority. Freedom is not in fragments. A non-fragmented mind, a mind that is whole is in freedom. It does not know it is free; what is known is within the area of time, the past through the present to the future. All movement is time and time is not a factor of freedom. Freedom of choice denies freedom; choice exists only where there is confusion. Clarity of perception, insight, is the freedom from the pain of choice. Total order is the light of freedom. This order is not the child of thought for all activity of thought is to cultivate fragmentation. Love is not a fragment of thought, of pleasure. The perception of this is intelligence. Love and intelligence are inseparable and from this flows action which does not breed pain. Order is its ground. The owls are not what they seem. |
| I was waiting in line for a ride at the airport in Dubai. When a cab pulled up, the first thing I noticed was that the taxi was polished to a bright shine. Smartly dressed in a white shirt, black tie, and freshly pressed black slacks, the cab driver jumped out and rounded the car to open the back passenger door for me. He handed me a laminated card and said: 'I'm Abdul, your driver. While I'm loading your bags in the trunk I'd like you to read my mission statement.' Taken aback, I read the card. It said: Abdul's Mission Statement: To get my customers to their destination in the quickest, safest and cheapest way possible in a friendly environment. This blew me away. Especially when I noticed that the inside of the cab matched the outside. Spotlessly clean! As he slid behind the wheel, Abdul said, 'Would you like a cup of coffee? I have a thermos of regular and one of decaf.' I said jokingly, 'No, I'd prefer a soft drink.' Abdul smiled and said, 'No problem. I have a cooler up front with regular and Diet Coke, lassi, water and orange juice.' Almost stuttering, I said, 'I'll take a Lassi.' Handing me my drink, Abdul said, 'If you'd like something to read, I have The NST , Star and Sun Today.' As they were pulling away, Abdul handed me another laminated card, 'These are the stations I get and the music they play, if you'd like to listen to the radio.' And as if that weren't enough, Abdul told me that he had the air conditioning on and asked if the temperature was comfortable for me. Then he advised me of the best route to my destination for that time of day. He also let me know that he'd be happy to chat and tell me about some of the sights or, if I preferred, to leave me with my own thoughts. 'Tell me, Abdul ,' I was amazed and asked him, 'have you always served customers like this?' Abdul smiled into the rear view mirror. "No, not always. In fact, it's only been in the last two years. My first five years driving, I spent most of my time complaining like all the rest of the cabbies do. Then I heard about POWER OF CHOICE one day." Power of choice is that you can be a duck or an eagle. 'If you get up in the morning expecting to have a bad day, you'll rarely disappoint yourself. Stop complaining!' 'Don't be a duck. Be an eagle. Ducks quack and complain. Eagles soar above the crowd.' 'That hit me. really hard' said Abdul. 'It is about me. I was always quacking and complaining, so I decided to change my attitude and become an eagle. I looked around at the other cabs and their drivers. The cabs were dirty, the drivers were unfriendly, and the customers were unhappy. So I decided to make some changes, slowly ... a few at a time. When my customers responded well, I did more.' 'I take it that it has paid off for you,' I said. 'It sure has,' Abdul replied. 'My first year as an eagle, I doubled my income from the previous year. This year I'll probably quadruple it. My customers call me for appointments on my cell phone or leave a message on it.' Abdul made a different choice. He decided to stop quacking like a duck and start soaring like an eagle. Start becoming an eagle today ... one small step every week..next week... And next...And.... A great Thought.. "You don't die if you fall in water, you die only if you don't swim. Thats the Real Meaning of Life. "I never drink...wine But I will win hearts with the best of services." Improve yourself and your skills in a different way. Be an eagle. .not a Duck. |
| A man, an avid Gardener saw a small Butterfly laying few eggs in one of the pots in his garden. Since that day he looked at the egg with ever growing curiosity and eagerness. The egg started to move and shake a little. He was excited to see a new life coming up right in front of his eyes. He spent hours watching the egg now. The egg started to expand and develop cracks. A tiny head and antennae started to come out ever so slowly. The man's excitement knew no bounds. He got his magnifying glasses and sat to watch the life and body of a pupa coming out. He saw the struggle of the tender pupa and couldn't resist his urge to "HELP". He went and got a tender forceps to help the egg break, a nip here, a nip there to help the struggling life and the pupa was out. The man was ecstatic! He waited now each day for the pupa to grow and fly like a beautiful butterfly, but alas that never happened. The larvae pupa had a oversized head and kept crawling along in the pot for the full 4 weeks and died! Depressed the man went to his Entymologist (insect specialist) friend and asked the reason. His friend told him the struggle to break out of the egg helps the larvae to send blood to its wings and the head push helps the head to remain small so that the tender wings can support it thru its 4 week life cycle. In his eagerness to help, the man destroyed a beautiful life! Struggles help all of us, that's why a bit of effort goes a long way to develop our strength to face life's difficulties! As parents, we sometimes go too far trying to help and protect our kids from life's harsh realities and disappointments. We don't want our kids to struggle like we did. Harvard psychiatrist Dr. Dan Kindlon says that over-protected children are more likely to struggle in relationships and with challenges. We're sending our kids the message that they're not capable of helping themselves. To quote clinical psychologist, Dr. Wendy 's Moral: "It is Our Job to prepare Our Children for the Road & Not prepare the Road for Our Children" OR “There’s a little witch in all of us.” — Aunt Jet Owens, Practical Magic We should allow them to inculcate it as per the environment. |
| My boss drove a luxury car everyday and it was my duty to greet him and to open the gates for him, as I worked as a watchman in his villa. But he never responded back to my greetings. One day he saw me opening the garbage bags outside the villa in search for any leftover food. But, as usual he never even looked at me, it was like as if he never saw anything! The very next day I saw a paper bag at the same place, but it was clean and the food inside was covered well. It was fresh and good food like someone had just brought it from the supermarket. I didn't bother as to where it came from, I just took the paper bag and I was so happy about it. Every day I found this paper bag at the same place with fresh vegetables and all that we needed for home. This became my daily routine. I was eating and sharing this food with my wife and kids. I was wondering who this fool could be?! To forget his paper bag full of fresh food everyday. One day there was a big problem in the villa and I was told that my boss has died. There were too many guests coming to the villa that day and I didn't get any food that day, so I thought that one of the guests must have taken it. But the same thing happened the 2nd day, the 3rd day and the 4th day. It went on like this for a few weeks and I found it difficult to provide food for my family, so I decided to ask the wife of my boss for a raise in my salary or else I would quit my job as a watchman. After I told her, she was shocked, and asked me, how come you never complained about your salary for the last 2 years? And why is this salary not enough for you now? I gave her so many excuses but she was never convinced! Finally in the end, I decided to tell her the truth, I told her the entire story of the bag of groceries, and as to how it was my daily provision. She then asked me as to when this stopped? I told her after the death of her husband. And then I realized that I stopped seeing the paper bag immediately after the death of my boss. Why didn't I ever think of this before? That it was my boss who was providing this for me? I guess it was because I never thought that a person who never replied to my greetings could ever be this generous! His wife started to cry and I told her to please stop crying and that I'm really sorry that I asked for a raise, I didn't know that it was your husband who was providing me with the meals, I’ll remain as a watchman and be happy to provide my service. His wife told me, I'm crying because I've finally found the 7th person my husband was giving this bag full of food. I knew my husband was giving 7 people everyday, I had already found the 6 people, and all these days I was searching for the 7th person. And today I found out. From that day onwards, I started to receive the bag full of food again, but this time his son was bringing it to my house and giving it to my hand. But whenever I thanked him, he never replied! Just like his dad! One day, I told him THANK YOU in a very loud voice! He replied back to me to please not be offended when he doesn't reply, because he has a hearing problem, just like his dad!” Oh! We have been wrong so many times judging others without knowing the true story behind their actions. Be kind and courteous in dealing with others, for everyone is fighting a hard battle. Be careful, not everything is about you. Before you assume, there is this thing called ASKING. Don’t just jump to conclusion, because that is truly not an exercise, it may cause you more harm at the end of the day. Many of our problems are caused by how we process what happens around us. Don’t judge a situation you have never been in. Be humble enough to learn. You do not know it all. Lets change the way we feel about ourselves and others. There are two sides to a story: "So how come Halloween is such a big yawner? I mean, do the demons just hate how commercial it's become?” —Buffy Summers, Buffy the Vampire Slayer All this holds true.. |
| I encountered a near fatal glider crash in New Zealand in 2022, falling down two hundred meters. I had an incredible eleven-minute near-death experience when my soul came out of my body and I was given the choice to die or to return to life. Unable to decide, I was restored to life. Yet a nightmare awaited me. The doctor declared that either my right foot was to be amputated or the bones would die from avascular necrosis. Refusing to fall into the paradoxical disability trap, I integrated the traditional Chinese aesthetics and Indian Ayurvedic medicine into modern psychological treatment and discovered the vital key to activate the enormous self-healing power that lies inside us, the subconscious. I healed my physical injury and overcame the haunting depression, reborn and recovered with freedom and wisdom. Now, I am standing on my own feet again and my footsteps have reached nearly forty countries. If every man who comes back from death is meant to carry a special mission, then I believe that my most important mission is to share my miracle recovery story because a miracle is not exclusive to me, but equally shared by everyone on this planet. I am merely a selected storyteller. All of a sudden, the light switched on again. I felt being re-connected. My vision was somewhat fuzzy from that sudden change of brightness in the first second. Then a glimpse of light came into my eyes, bright yet warm and gentle, just like the first ray of the sunrise. ‘The darkness is over. Welcome to the brightness,’ the golden light said to me. I found myself bathed in a sea of golden light, so peaceful and calm. I was fully embraced by a comforting love and gentleness. I also found my body dazzling, reflecting rays of golden light. The sense of warmth and love saturated me. I felt complete and infinite. I was composed of lights in that realm. I was a part of the light. I still had a body shape, but there was no boundary, like how we can see the sunlight, but cannot tell its boundary. Or if you pour some alcohol into a glass of water, it doesn’t dissolve but it would mix perfectly into the water. It was incredible! The second thing I noticed was that I was not breathing and my heart had stopped beating. Or I should say I no longer needed any breath or heartbeat. I found myself floating in the vacuum. As I was wondering if either my own weight or the gravity was lost, I looked down and saw the trashed body of the glider. Fragments of glass and metals were scattered all over the ground. The glider wings and tail were completely ruined. I looked closer and saw a broken young man lying there dying inside the compartment. His shirt was covered in blood. His wounds were bleeding badly. His forearm was broken. A white bone jutted out from his wrist. Even worse, the right ankle joint was horribly smashed and distorted. In horror, I realized this man looked just like me! That’s my body! Welcome to my nightmare. I think you're gonna like it." I knew I was dying. |
| My struggle to live that night, I hardly knew what I was fighting for. A male friend and I had gone for a walk up a mountain near my home. Four armed men caught us and made us climb to a secluded spot, where they raped me for several hours, and beat both of us. They argued among themselves about whether or not to kill us, and finally let us go. At 17, I was just a child. Life rewarded me richly for surviving. I stumbled home, wounded and traumatized, to a fabulous family. With them on my side, so much came my way. I found true love. I wrote books. I saw a kangaroo in the wild. I caught buses and missed trains. I had a shining child. The century changed. My first gray hair appeared. Too many others will never experience that. They will not see that it gets better, that the day comes when one incident is no longer the central focus of your life. One day you find you are no longer looking behind you, expecting every group of men to attack. One day you wind a scarf around your throat without having a flashback to being choked. One day you are not frightened anymore. Rape is horrible. But it is not horrible for all the reasons that have been drilled into the heads of women. It is horrible because you are violated, you are scared, someone else takes control of your body and hurts you in the most intimate way. It is not horrible because you lose your “virtue.” It is not horrible because your father and your brother are dishonored. I reject the notion that my virtue is located in my vagina, just as I reject the notion that men’s brains are in their genitals. If we take honor out of the equation, rape will still be horrible, but it will be a personal, and not a societal, horror. We will be able to give women who have been assaulted what they truly need: not a load of rubbish about how they should feel guilty or ashamed, but empathy for going through a terrible trauma. The week after I was attacked, I heard the story of a woman who was raped in a nearby suburb. She came home, went into the kitchen, set herself on fire and died. The person who told me the story was full of admiration for her selflessness in preserving her husband’s honor. Thanks to my parents, I never did understand this. The law has to provide real penalties for rapists and protection for victims, but only families and communities can provide this empathy and support. How will a teenager participate in the prosecution of her rapist if her family isn’t behind her? How will a wife charge her assailant if her husband thinks the attack was more of an affront to him than a violation of her? At 17, I thought the scariest thing that could happen in my life was being hurt and humiliated in such a painful way. At 49, I know I was wrong: the scariest thing is imagining my 11-year-old child being hurt and humiliated. Not because of my family’s honor, but because she trusts the world and it is infinitely painful to think of her losing that trust. When I look back, it is not the 17-year-old me I want to comfort, but my parents. They had the job of picking up the pieces. This is where our work lies, with those of us who are raising the next generation. It lies in teaching our sons and daughters to become liberated, respectful adults who know that men who hurt women are making a choice, and will be punished. When I was 17, I could not have imagined thousands of people marching against rape in India, as we have seen these past few weeks. And yet there is still work to be done. We have spent generations constructing elaborate systems of patriarchy, caste and social and sexual inequality that allow abuse to flourish. But rape is not inevitable, like the weather. We need to shelve all the gibberish about honor and virtue and did-she-lead-him-on and could-he-help-himself. We need to put responsibility where it lies: on men who violate women, and on all of us who let them get away with it while we point accusing fingers at their victims." or like Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble. |
| "A person should always choose a costume which is in direct contrast to her own personality.” The telephone rang. It was a call from his mother. He answered it and his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday." Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days. "Jack, did you hear me?" "Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought of him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said. "Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over 'his side of the fence' as he put it," Mom told him. "I loved that old house he lived in," Jack said. "You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man's influence in your life," she said. "He's the one who taught me carpentry," he said. "I wouldn't be in this business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important. Mom, I'll be there for the funeral," Jack said. As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away. The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one more time. Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and time. The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture...Jack stopped suddenly... "What's wrong, Jack?" his Mom asked. "The box is gone," he said. "What box?" Mom asked. "There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell me was 'the thing I value most,'" Jack said. It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it. "Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said. "I better get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom." It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from work one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox. "Signature required on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three days," the note read. Early the next day Jack went to the post office and retrieved the package. The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention. "Mr. Harold Belser" it read. Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope. Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside. "Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filled his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside he found these words engraved: "Jack, Thanks for your time! -- Harold Belser." "The thing he valued most was my time!" Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days.* "Why?" Janet, his assistant asked. "I need some time to spend with the people I love and say I care for," he said. "Oh, by the way, Janet, thanks for your time!" "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away." Think about this. You may not realize it, but it's 100 percent true. 1. At least 15 people in this world love you in some way. 2. A smile from you can bring happiness to anyone, even if they don't like you. 3. Every night, SOMEONE thinks about you before they go to sleep. 4. You mean the world to someone. 5. If not for you, someone may not be living. 6. You are special and unique. 7. When you think you have no chance of getting what you want, you probably won't get it, but if you trust God to do what's best, and wait on His time, sooner or later, you will get it or something better. 8. When you make the biggest mistake ever, something good can still come from it. 9. When you think the world has turned its back on you, take a hard look: you most likely turned your back on the world and the people who love and care for you. 10. Someone that you don't even know exists loves you. 11. Always remember the compliments you received. Forget about the rude remarks. 12. Always tell someone how you feel about them; you will feel much better when they know and you'll both be happy. 13. If you have a great friend, take the time to let them know that they are great. |
| It was Halloween, 2021. I was on the back of a motorcycle, heading out towards McDonald’s for lunch with a young man. All he had going for him was that he owned a motorcycle. I was new to bike riding. The leaning thing was counter-intuitive to me like to lean the direction the bike was leaning. I learned the hard way not to lean the wrong direction. We came around a curve when the bike seemed to lean too much to the left. I found out later we had hit an oil slick. My instinct was to lean to the right. This was probably a good thing because otherwise I would have been pinned under the bike in oncoming traffic. I remember flying through the air and seeing the guardrail coming up awfully fast. "They’re coming to get you, Barbara." This was the exact thought and after that, everything went black and I could hear a high-pitched bell-like white noise. There was no light where I was, but I could see a very thin, very large crescent come into my field of view. It got smaller and smaller until I recognized what it was; the backside of the Earth. I began to 'float' in front of it until I was looking at the daylit side. It got smaller and smaller as some unseen force drew me away from it. It was much like what I suspect a tractor beam would feel like on Star Trek. I turned around to be drawn forward not backward, and that’s when I saw all the heavens. I saw the stars, the nebula', the nov', the dust clouds, the galaxies, the planets, and the sun. All of it was in 3-D! It was alive and moving, not static like in the pictures from the Hubble. It was so much to take in and all so incredibly beautiful. As I was drawn 'forward', to what end I couldn’t know. I realized a few things. This was real, as real as anything I had ever experienced. I’m a lucid dreamer so I know when I’m dreaming. This was no dream. The answer to the big question, 'Why are we here?' is 'Why not? It’s a good idea,' or better yet, 'Because.' That’s really it. I noticed I began to be drawn faster and faster. The stars began to move past me at a faster rate until they became streaks of light. Then they started to blink out until I found myself in total darkness again. I wasn’t scared because it was a comforting, maternal kind of place that made me feel safe. Then I noticed, far, far away, a little speck of light, like a single light from a farmhouse set way back from the freeway. Then it was closer and I could tell it was golden. It kept coming closer, then closer; this went on for about 8-10 jumps. I heard 'Boom, boom, boom.' and the next thing I knew I was right next to it. It was a golden cloud that was 'boiling'; it looked like pictures I’ve seen since of the surface of the sun. The next instant I was inside the cloud. I was floating down a large hallway, maybe 20x20. There were people there, but I didn’t recognize anyone, fading in and out of the cloud walls. I seemed to be floating over the heads of a LOT of people on a level right below me. They were all in white and seemed to be content. I think these were Mormons. As I floated along, I remember one man in particular who was standing off to the left in a bend in the hallway. I asked him where I was, and he kind of chuckled and said, 'Just keep going. Go on down to the front.' So I did. When I got to the end of the hallway, I met a guy that looked like a concierge in a hotel, working behind a desk. He looked up at me with a rather perturbed expression on his face, and he thought, 'What are you doing here?' I said, 'I don't know; I'm just here. This is where the people back there,' pointing over my shoulder to those hanging out, 'told me to come.' He shrugged, furrowed his brow, and thought, 'Well, wait a minute. Let me check something.' While he was checking, I looked behind him and realized we weren't in a tunnel at all; we were in a cave and he was at the entrance. Behind him was a beautiful landscape, a hillside with sparkling trees and flowers and a brook, the most beautiful, peaceful place I had ever seen. Then I saw people sitting in lotus positions on the hillside, facing to my left. A great light began pulsing on them. I was curious, so while this guy had his head down, looking at something, a computer perhaps, I snuck around the corner to see what was going on. I walked into what appeared to be a very large (30 feet say) presence that exuded love and innocence. It just seemed to be full of so much joy it couldn't contain it, and so it pulsed, and it felt really good. It flooded through me like water through a sieve. It was interesting, stunning, awe-inspiring, and all such words. I tried to get closer. I realized the presence was on an island, surrounded by a pool of liquid. When I stepped into the liquid, all that was 'Jill' disappeared. 'I' no longer existed and yet 'I' was still there. I was the essence of life, I guess. I don't know what else to call it. I was conscious of my surroundings. I had joined with all the other consciousness in the pool and had become one with it. I 'knew' all other life in the pool; I was 'one' with everything. I was home. Then I was back. The guy had pulled me back to the front of the desk. Breathlessly, I asked, 'What was THAT?' He said, 'Don't worry about that. Don't even think about it.' I said, 'But … but … I want to go back.' 'Nope.' 'But --' The next thing I knew I was back outside the gold tunnel. As I was being repelled from the cloud, I could hear the 'clerk' say, 'Don’t worry.' I hoped he meant, 'Don’t worry; you can come back.' I retraced all the footsteps I had gone through in space to get to it in the first place. 'Big whoop' I thought as I saw the heavens that had just moments before struck me dumb by their beauty. I was very downhearted after that. I tried to tell people about it, but everyone thought I was crazy or on drugs (which I wasn't at the time, by the way). I found it interesting that the people who gave me the hardest time about my re-telling were self-professed Christians. I never understood that. Anyway, I call the guy behind the desk Howard. That's because that's what Jesus said God's name was. 'Our father who art in heaven, Howard be thy name.' I know it's a bad joke but he doesn't seem to mind. To this day, he and I talk. He is always there for me, even when I turn my back. I don’t get it. He must have done something really goofy as it's rightly said "They’re coming to get you, Barbara.” |
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Thanks for sharing.
