Sunday, December 24, 2023

From The Archives: Winter Solstice ~ Beauty in The Darkness

FROM THE ARCHIVES (orig. published 12/20/20)

Milioni di Orvs ~ "Millions of Orbs"
© photo by Shannon Taggart, Sardinia 2015
______________________________________

“In the midst of winter, I finally learned
that there was in me an invincible summer.”
~ Albert Camus ~

The small mediumship circle that I sit with recently had some development with the two trumpets that are a regular part of the sitting. We always align them with specific positions where they rest on the floor, in a way that shows a particular point on them faces direct North. This is to associate them with the glass dome that rests on a table in the center of the circle, and which holds 5 “Herkimer Diamond” quartz crystals, four of which are aligned in a North/South/East/West configuration, while the larger, center crystal is aligned with North/South. Although the trumpets have slightly moved before in the quirky ways that Spirit likes to do, they have remained stationary for many months. And lo! After the lights came on at the end of our last sitting, we were startled to see that the trumpets had not only moved several inches away from their positions, but each had rotated a perfect 45 degrees so that they were now precisely facing East. Perceived more closely, their movement actually outlines a small and gentle spiral. We have mused about this action for several weeks now, wondering if this was some kind of message. My ponderings led me to a long-forgotten reminiscence, which then led to this writing … so perhaps this was our Spirit Team’s intention all along. Or at least part of it, for another message always there is that Spirit moves in mysterious ways
I found myself immersed in one of my most cherished memories of childhood Christmases—that of my grandmother playing and singing “Star of The East” on the timeworn upright piano in her parlor. I was likely no more than five years old. The fragrant scotch pine in the corner was alight with large, old-fashioned bulbs, and wrapped in many narrow garlands of silver tinsel that was made from actual tin. It was also encircled by strings of popcorn and cranberries some of my cousins had made for it. Resting peacefully on top of the piano was a tiny cardboard village of houses and a church with snow-capped roofs, illuminated by tiny lights inside.
A medium herself—albeit a timid, reluctant one—my Grandma was completely untrained and couldn't read music, yet somehow just knew how to play the piano with great accomplishment. She never had a voice lesson in her life either, but still sang with complete abandon to the spirit of the song. I had never seen or heard this side of her before, and became completely entranced by Spirit as she sang.
This shortbut enchanting video of a Mennonite family singing it at their kitchen table comes close to capturing the sense of Spirit moving through voices raised in song.


Star of the East, Oh Bethlehem's star,
Guiding us on to Heaven afar!
Sorrow and grief and lull'd by thy light,
Thou hope of each mortal, in death's lonely night!

Fearless and tranquil, we look up to Thee!
Knowing thou beam'st thro' eternity!
Help us to follow where Thou still dost guide,
Pilgrims of Earth so wide.

Star of the East, un-dim'd by each cloud,
What tho' the storms of grief gather loud?
Faithful and pure thy rays beam to save,
Still bright o'er the cradle, and bright o'er the grave!
Smiles of a Saviour are mirror'd in Thee!
Glimpses of Heav'n in thy light we see!
Guide us still onward to that blessed shore,
After earth's toil is o'er!

Star of the East, thou hope of the soul,
While round us here the dark billows roll,
Lead us from sin to glory afar,
Thou star of the East, thou sweet Bethlehem's star.

Oh star that leads to God above!
Whose rays are peace and joy and love!
Watch o'er us still till life hath ceased,
Beam on, bright star, sweet Bethlehem star!

~ Lyricist George Cooper, 1890. Music Amanda Kennedy, 1883. ~
There has been an unprecedented amount of fear on this planet for quite some time, especially this past year. This hymn soothes us with the promise that the storms of grief cannot dim the promise of the Star of the East, and that we can rest assured that our fears will fade and our hearts return to the true tranquility that is the birthright of each and every person on this planet.
Purposely focusing our consciousness into an increasing mindless circling of fearful thinking will intensify the mindlessness and the fear, a downward spiraling that takes us further and further away from the light of pure, unafraid consciousness. This descent into mental darkness is not only unnecessary, it is a denial of the Light, which is All There Is. “Darkness” is but a misperception caused by certain beliefs that become the veils we place or allow to be placed over our spiritual vision. Because we think we cannot see anymore, we decide that we are “lost.”
And because we have also decided that we are powerless—another belief of misperception—we allow ourselves to be pulled further into the mindless darkness until we hit a kind of bottom, where we black out in some psychospiritual way. “Psychospiritual” means inwardly and privately experienced, but not necessarily outwardly, physically observable. The misperception, a “mis-seeing” has often been referred to as “sin”—a word whose roots mean “missing the target.” Not just missing the bull’s-eye, but missing the entire target altogether. Of course, how could we aim our intentions of good, for a life of well-being, if we cannot see because of the veils we have allowed to fall over our spiritual eyes? The center of the target is none other than our Self, and is our direct awareness of Self-Divinity. Not being able to connect with the center of our self-intention also increases the sensations of helplessness and hopelessness. The joy of being Centered seems lost forever. We then begin to tell this story of darkness over and over until it becomes etched into our brain, like the grooves of a vinyl record, or the magnetic impressions on a computer disc, and our story of everlasting life has now been turned into one that includes the belief in an inevitable darkness and death.
Ancient people drew a correlation between this inner, psychospiritual descent into darkness and their outer material experience of our planet’s seeming withdrawal from the light, culminating in the winter’s solstice. They also noticed that this shortest day of the year—the “bottom”—did not go on forever but then began to become illuminated once again by the Sun’s return. The Sun had never actually abandoned them; it had been there all the time. But because of their seemingly stationary position on a seemingly unmoving Earth, it only appeared as if the Light had deserted them. They had mistakenly placed the evidence of their physical experience over the evidence of their spiritual understanding, forgetting that the Light is always there, always available. The joy of living had become the worry of uncertainty and the fear of death. All along, there was beauty in the darkness.
Certain wise souls amongst these ancient people saw how quickly we can forget about the Light by our increasingly paying attention to, or focusing on, the contrasting play of light as it differentiates our world of forms, which we label as “shadows” and “darkness.” When it seems like a situation becomes “less light” most people somehow quickly forgot that this doesn’t mean the light is going away. It wasn’t so long ago when people even became anxious when watching the sun leave them over the western horizon. Indeed, in some cultures, it is still said that a person “goes West” when they transition and relocate via the darkest shadow known as “death.”
The ancient wise ones redirected everyone’s attention by pointing outward and up, toward the horizon that was also always there before them. And lo! There appeared a Star in the East, which had been rising all that time right behind them, but they had been too focused on watching the sun apparently abandoning them in the West. This star was also referred to as “the Christ within us”—or in other words, The Forever-Risen Light, or “the nonexistence of darkness.”
As with all spiritual words that attempt to articulate non-verbal spiritual truths, the word “Christ” is complex and meant to convey a particular emotional energy that vibrates at a certain level. It is vibration that conveys information to us not only through our physical senses which interpret and manifest form, but also through our spiritual senses which manifest that which is beyond form—but not separated from—the fullness of our individual experience of Life.
“Christ” is a Greek word that means “The Anointed One.” Anointing is a symbolic physical act of placing a little oil on someone’s forehead, where the seat of consciousness was sometimes believed to reside. The Greeks knew all about oil, especially that pressed from olives. The olives had to be crushed in a labor-intensive procedure, and even then, the result was still a bitter liquid, clouded by unwanted substances and contaminates, which then had to be filtered out through even more rigorous labor. Who wouldn’t be clouded by such bitterness after getting crushed by something seemingly more powerful than us, and against our will? Who wouldn’t most likely resist allowing that higher power to continue to mess around with us, filtering our lives through ever-more refining life circumstances? Surrender my bitterness? No way! Everyone knows, or should know, that life is nothing but a bitter bowl of olives.
The good news that the wise ones might want to convey about anointing is that we don’t have to go through a life-crushing process in order to find relief. The pure oil—sweet, clear, and never bitter—has already been prepared. In fact, it was always pure to begin with. No matter how often we forget this, if we can find a way to remember it, which is letting ourselves be touched or anointed by the purest of thoughts and feelings, the living of life will become sweet once again.

Material, earthly life often distracts us from the light and sweetness of our spiritual existence. The sun, the moon, and the stars are there to help us remember this. Let us set our intention to remember to look outward and upward at least twice a day—once in the morning and again at night. Know that even as we appear to be falling asleep, we are also waking up. The afterlife is not something that is going to happen—it is happening now. When we can live more and more in the mindful awareness that our story is one of never-ending awakening, we will become anointed by the ecstasy of our own spirit, enjoined with The Cosmos, never to be separated unless that is what we might want. And if that should be the case, may we rest in the knowing that there will always be kind and watchful Helpers in Spirit, awaiting for us to give them a sign that we are ready to wake up at any time.

From The Archives: Cristes Mæsse

[First posted 12/24/10 - a reader recently wrote about finding it "evocative" . . . the summer, as least in this part of the world, is past its zenith, and before we know it, we will be crossing the threshold of a new year. Perhaps this previous post can continue to offer some reflection of who and where we are, in this moment.]


When the tips of the pines
Touch the twinkling stars
On the cold, crisp nights of December,
May your blessings be more
Than you've ever hoped for,
And your Christmas a warmth to remember.

~ a poem on a card sent by Aunt Doris ~

For some reason, as I began cooking this morning of Christmas Day Eve, I was impressed to put on a CD of Mozart's Requiem Mass in D Minor – a strange kind of music for Noël . . . nonetheless, it affects me deeply, evoking complex emotions, all tinged with sadness.

The turnips are peeled and roasting – my contribution towards tomorrow's cozy gathering of friends, coming together to celebrate many things – consciously aware living, loving, and sobriety. Together, we manifest and share a "field of gratitude" that spontaneously arises from our gathering together.

In The Risen, we explore the idea of "fields" – realities that interpenetrate our material one, and which we often can sense emotionally, psychologically, spiritually and even physically. This idea is practically no longer abstract, but is quickly becoming a realized fact by primarily quantum scientists, many inspired by theoretical biologist Rupert Sheldrake's understanding that there is no "inside" or "outside" to one's mind. It is further noted in The Risen:
"Sheldrake suggests that memory is not stored in the brain, which is a kind of tuning system, rather than a device for storing memories. Our brain resonates within a morphic or morphogenic field. This resonance is a form-shaping field, an invisible organization structure wherein all experiential information is recorded and stored.
"Morphogenic fields are patterns that structure our reality. Older, primal societies have been well aware that the forms of our experiences are shaped by something greater than us, and of which we are simultaneously a part. Modern, 'civilized' societies have contracted the mind into the idea that the mind exists only within the confines of our physical skulls."
Sheldrake would likely agree with the idea of the spirit of a holiday—that it’s a morphic field containing the memories and rituals associated with that holiday.
Viewed from this perspective, the spirit within a human being resonates from within the larger spiritual morphogenic field. From their perspective, the Risen suggest that the so-called boundaries of any field are arbitrary and subject to one’s perceptual awareness, meaning that the fields are infinite in space and time. Thus, Risen fields interpenetrate non-Risen fields, which also interpenetrate." (pp. 137-138)
In 21st century terms, this is "non-locality". Non-locality is one of several important principles of quantum physics, and has given rise to the concept of nonlocal space, explained by Pim van Lommel, MD as “ … a multidimensional space, with nothing but possibilities … and without certainties, without matter, and without a role for time and distance … (and) represents a hidden reality that, at the quantum level, exerts a continuous influence on our physical world, which is the complement of nonlocal space."  While interpenetrating the local consciousness of the physical brain, non-local consciousness expands unbounded beyond it, and is believed by many to support perceptual reality. This concept underlies theories about after-life survival, remote viewing, and other out-of-body experiences. (From his book, Consciousness Beyond Life: The Science of the Near-Death Experience, pp. 227-28) [Highly recommended.]

 Mozart claimed that he heard the music in his head and that all he had to do was transcribe it; he did this in near-perfect notation in a very brief window of time. Van Lommel suggests that such creativity, inspiration, and sudden scientific insight might be explained by unconscious, or even conscious contact with non-local consciousness. His book explores in great detail how near-death experiences bring the person into contact with other fields of consciousness – other worlds – in this way.

It's clear to me that I'm experiencing "fields within fields" – or worlds within worlds, as the Risen say. Obviously I'm not in the land of sleigh bells and candy canes, but somewhere in the Deep. I wonder what is is that  I'm accessing in the field of Mozart's Requiem. As I ponder more I begin to realize that there is sadness is the memory of the story of a little baby who will grow up, and as a young man,  "die" a seemingly tragic, lonely death, abandoned by the world he loved so much; I think of his mother as well. Mozart was dying as he struggled to finish this piece, and transitioned before it could be completed. He captured these complex ego-mind feelings of  the direct experience of his own transition, along with the "tragedy and loss" that are believed to be inseparable by death. Surrounding Requiem is much controversy and confusion, unanswered questions and myth. While the story of the man who was also a Christ clearly embodies the almost inconceivable news that there is no death, only more life, much myth and confusion surround the drama as well.

Many fields of spirituality and religion converge around this time of the year, a few according to the light reaching the earth from the sun, and others because someone once did or said something that continues to resonate with millions of still earth-bound souls. One funny question that I get asked often is about my "religion": "Are you Christian? Jewish? Buddhist? Pagan? Democrat? Vegetarian?"  My answer has always been the same: "I don't remember." There is the potential for magic and miracles of wonder in them all. Krishnamurti once said,  "Religion is the frozen thought of man out of which they build temples." He also said, "I maintain that Truth is a pathless land, and you cannot approach it by any path whatsoever, by any religion, by any sect."

The Requiem's saddening minor chords of the last movement of the sequence, the Lacrimosa, breaks off after only eight bars, unfinished. One can only wonder if Mozart was simultaneously having near-death experiences as he struggled to complete his mission. He transitioned on December 5, 1791. Perhaps I'm accessing something of his world, his field, his non-locality while listening to his final offering to our terrestrial world. The lovely little Christmas card from my Aunt Doris also brings me in contact with some kind of field. Now in her upper-eighties, she is one of the few remaining, older relatives still on the earth (once there were so very many!) There is, at first, sadness with this thought, but if I stay with the sadness, while letting the ego-mental thinking fade away, I'm brought to an awakened awareness of Authentic Self, and then through some sort of door, an entryway into a deeper aspect of another reality, and more light begins to shine through what I first perceived as shadow. This is the door to the Risen lands, and not only light, but laughter and joy beam forth from it, and suddenly I begin to understand the meaning of Cristes mæsse, which means literally, "the anointed one's mission." We all have this mission, as anointed with spirit by Creator Source, to find the door to Home, for "blessings more than we ever hoped for."

Tim made his transition on a Christmas Eve, falling deeply asleep here and slowly awakening there. Although my mental grief about it has been worked through over the years, and it seems nothing more than the dream it was, my body still remembers in its own way, and accesses biological fields that are inherently part of a terrestrial existence. So a little sadness is there too, wistfulness, really, which also becomes a door to where Tim actually is now, the present, which is all we every really have.

Friday, November 10, 2023

Animals in Paradise

"(Life) ... a majestic, unceasing, unhurried, forward movement
brings things stage by stage to the condition we know them by now."
~ Thomas Troward ~
[First posted 6/22/13]

Risen reader Debbie shares:
August, Tim, finding The Risen came at just the right time for me. I feel the light and truth emanate forth from all of you, and your writing is exquisite. I cannot fathom how you put everything you did into words, and did so beautifully. I felt that I was carried along by soft, gentle waves, and even what portions of material felt intense to me - and some I do not yet fully comprehend, I admit - I know that in time I will.

Your love for your cherished animal friends I share with you, and to know they are safe in the arms of The Risen gives me great comfort.

I wish to ask you something that has been on my mind for some time now, even before I got your book: I would like to know if there is a special prayer you might recommend or suggest, or a Risen team I can call on in prayer to help animals on Earth who are unloved and who do not experience a dignified passing. Do they receive help immediately upon passing, animals such as those in factory farms and shelters? I think of them almost constantly and want to know if you may have suggestions for prayers. Or do I rest in the knowledge that The Risen gather these sweet souls into their arms and I am worrying and fretting for nothing. Any perspective you might have I am grateful for. Animals are so precious, so close to The Risen world, and it pains me that a single one suffers in any way
.

 Debbie, we are grateful for your kind and beautiful words about your experience with the Risen material, and we rejoice that you have found something of value in our book. We know that many find it daunting in its density, but as we have noted before, it's not meant to be "Metaphysics 101" or "Mediumship for Dummies." In many ways, it was written out of time for those not yet in it, which is another way of saying "for the future." Like you, those who view their life with a posture of open and conscious awareness, and with lack of fear and worry, are able to face living with a forward perspective, knowing with total trust that "my good goes before me and prepares the way."

Our furry, feathery and leathery fellow creatures occupy much of our lives. Whenever I look into the eyes of an animal, I see the gaze of Creator Source looking back. Thus have I come to understand what "love" is, through the indeterminable depths of their souls. They have never lost their innocence, and unlike us, never will. They can lead us back to Risen pastures, where life is always good, and grazing and water as perfect as the calm and peaceful skies overhead. Many of us will be met first by our beloved animals as we step from the terrestrial to the Risen lands, for each and every one has as divine a purpose as we do. I have met many animals in the Risen geographies whose intelligence and understanding far passes my own, and at whose feet I sit in wonder, a grateful disciple.

We share your sadness about the unconscionable injustices done to animals on this planet. Pray ... always pray. It might gladden you to know that all the profits from our book (plus a good deal more) go to a special organization in our city that provides free veterinary services to those who can't afford them. This is one concrete and immediate way in which we can help. Other friends volunteer at a special hospital and sanctuary for the wild birds that stray into the city and become injured. Still others, like our friends at The Forever Family Foundation, are directly involved with rescuing feral cats, spaying them, and finding homes for the kittens. There is no lack of work to do, is there?

You may recall from your reading of The Risen what Tim revealed about our "dwelling places" that await us in The Summerlands—



“You know of the mind’s powers, August, as you’ve been creatively manifesting your own dwelling places all along. It’s similar to how living spaces are manifested on earth. The place you live in now did not exist until you decided to find it, and then your mind began to conceive of possibilities—from there your inner vision proceeded to externalize them. Your entire world experience is one immense, complex manifestation on the material plane. Cities, towns, and houses on earth previously existed only in people’s minds. Granted, the external manifestation process is much slower and tedious on your material plane than it is in the Risen states, but the principal is the same—mind manifests reality. All the fantasies about places where you would love to dwell not only become possible once you transition into Risen life, but they can begin to manifest even before your transition. It depends on one’s mental and emotional clarity, one’s will, and especially one’s self-evolution, which together bring enlightened understanding of Mind and its unlimited abundance.

     “While you’re dreaming of that cozy little cottage or even a castle tucked away in some hidden glen, the strength of your desires will cause the building elements to come together in the realm of the Higher Mind, which is your mind, my mind, our Mind—it is all One—and particular elements of light will coalesce into an actuality that reflects those desires. The more it becomes real to you in your mind, the more it becomes ‘real–ized’ on the higher planes where such things are meant to occur. The Risen are capable of manifesting realized wonders of landscape and architecture, which are their dwelling places and are far beyond the physical possibilities of the earth plane.

      “Of course I’m speaking of the positive, spiritually inspired powers of the individual use of Mind. To the extent that one’s thoughts, dreams and fantasies are able to manifest in ways that are beautiful and meaningful evidences the degree of spiritual evolution, of the self-love and self-esteem that enable and support the love and esteem of other individuals, and the level of understanding that Mind is a shared experience as well as an individual one. There are those on the earth, who, for whatever reasons unique to their experience, understanding, and individual evolution, are unable to manifest much more than a Risen tar-paper shack—if even that. While they might be able to fantasize about a sumptuous Hollywood mansion, more than likely the nature of that image is of the earth-bound, ego-mind’s desires and so could not in any real way be imaginally expressed in the higher astral realms.”

So what this mean, dear friend, is that by your good works here, you have been laying up treasures for yourself in The Summerland, which await your arrival and habitation.  "My good goes before me and prepares the way."

I have been aware of my own "Risen estate"—which is rather vast, and indescribably beautiful, for many years, and visit it all the time when my body sleeps. It is rare I can remember much, for such Risen realms do not translate well, if at all, into the meager brain thoughts of a human body; there simply is little for terrestrial memory to grasp and hold for us.

The very special thing about this estate is that it has always been open as a sanctuary for any and all animals that I have had some kind of relationship with—directly or indirectly—and to whom I extend the invitation to go there and dwell, and bid them to enhance it and their own lives with the complete peace needed for recovery from their earthly sufferings. Not only all the dogs and cats I've ever lived with are there, but every little bird that I've come upon that has transitioned or will soon; every squirrel, mouse, snake; every belabored horse I see drawing its heavy load of tourists through Central Park receives my invitation to advance there at any time of their choosing. When I see or learn of the suffering or loss of an elephant, dolphin in the news or on TV, any and all animals receive my prayers for healing and the invitation to go live on my estate. It is good it is so vast, for herds of elephants need a lot of room!

You can do this, too. Simple, isn't it? Yes, always strive to remember that you can ask for help, for there really are Risen teams of healers waiting to hear such requests. They will assist and guide, as well as teach and even themselves learn in the process, for Life—"majestic, unceasing, and unhurried"—is also Learning, Discovery, Celebration.

I close with these words of Tim from our book—his response to Eternity—

"Perfection is not something to be attained; it is something to be realized, to awaken to. Oh, the incredible ecstasy of awakening to the realization that there is no end to awakening! There is no end to Heaven, continually unfolding and revealing itself as we awaken to ever-increasing awareness of having our being in and as paradise.”



Risen Geographies and Dwelling Places




[First Posted 5/18/13]

Beau Lotto, a neuroscientist and founder of Lab of Misfits, gave a TedTalk in 2009 that used optical illusions to demonstrate how we perceive the world.  He investigates "how the human mind makes sense from the senseless." Underlying the fact that we can never truly see what's "out there" but only what's in our head, shaped by how our brain has learned to interpret various signals, are these ideas Beau offers:

"No one is an outside observer of nature ...each of us is defined by our ecology ... ecology is necessarily relative, historical and empirical."

These ideas come startlingly close in some ways to how one may begin to imagine how life is experienced as Risen; especially poignant for me is his demonstration as to how sights can be converted to sounds, using the example of a 6 year old's painting, converted to music. On earth, we have the physical body, acting as a filter for the incoming information from the Universe around us; the ego-mind, generally uncontrolled by Authentic Self and given free reign, makes judgmental choices for our emotional and psychological behavior, according to its own hidden agenda. Without the terrestrial body, which (usually) ends the ego-mind's dominance, our world is revealed to us on a very different level of perceived truth, indeed, many different levels.

Tim shares in The Risen:
"... light is also sound and therefore music is light. Each and every single unit of life is a light-filled tone and tone-filled light. Every thing vibrates and all movement produces light and sound. All universes are an ongoing symphony of infinite drama. Your life on earth and beyond it is a melody. This is less apparent on the earth due to its great density and lower vibration, which dulls and deadens the spirit, greatly lessening the connection every thing has with everything. It becomes more obvious on those planes beyond the Earth as we become more refined and of greater vibration.”

"Ecology" is highly resonant to the concept of "geography" which the Risen directed me to use in our book. It means not only our surroundings, but because we are inextricably immersed in it, it also means our worlds: the climate, the weather, the air, the light, the sounds, its history(ies), its feelings. One of my brothers is a wildlife technologiest (a fancy name for a park ranger) and he once explained to me about the ecology — or world – of a tree. We can see the tree, rising out of the ground, spreading its branches and leaves up and into the world around it, touching other trees, and their worlds, merging into a collective of worlds within worlds. Each tree is breathing, taking in elements through its roots and leaves, and then releasing others back into the air. Each tree gives off heat in the form of energy and reflective light. Every cell is alive with non-stop activity. Every tree gives harbor to many other life forms.

Beneath each tree, if one observes with patience, are other plants -- grasses and baby trees, fungi, each with its own ecology exactly like the Mother Tree above them, and all immersed in Mother's world, and merging into one another's. These worlds interpenetrate, interact, teach, learn, implant, extract, love. "Worlds within worlds", as the oft-repeated phrase in our book goes.

In the recent posting "Return to Summerland" I attempt to share what it's like being in a Risen geography while not yet Risen -- not easy! Here are some interesting excerpts from the book that Tim shares in his attempts to describe his own ecological experience:

The word ‘live’ is not quite correct in connection with the way dwelling spaces exist here—actually, ‘dwell’ works much better. And the word ‘time’ isn’t exactly right either. I don’t dwell there all the time—hardly ever, actually, for there is far too much beyond it. Infinooty! There are never-ending environments for me to explore or manifest and occupy for as long as I want. 
I see you are wondering what lies beyond this tiny apartment where Bigfoot and I sometimes rest. Nothing and yet everything lies beyond it. When I go for walks through the old neighborhood, it’s the same, yet so much more. Each and every thing is alive, suffused by glowing, pulsating, prismatic lights, filled with life and energy as the sun-filled trees in the parks, effervescent as the fountains which give forth music, their waters welling up and cascading down pieces of sculpture that are never the same. Birds, animals, butterflies, and flowers of exquisite and dramatic beauty populate this geography. It is all a manifestation of my mind, yet infinitely more. 
We are of the same Mind, and so wherever or whenever we are, Mind Is. There is no place or time Mind can’t be. If we move ‘outward,’ that movement can continue without ceasing, manifesting environments within which to dwell. The very movement of Mind is manifestation. If we move in a way that we desire to be ‘inward,’ the result is the same. If I desire to dwell in light or darkness, or seasons and weather, there are no limitations imposed upon my desires except those I place upon them. (1)
Of course I’m speaking of the positive, spiritually inspired powers of the individual use of Mind. To the extent that one’s thoughts, dreams and fantasies are able to manifest in ways that are beautiful and meaningful evidences the degree of spiritual evolution, of the self-love and self-esteem that enable and support the love and esteem of other individuals, and the level of understanding that Mind is a shared experience as well as an individual one. There are those on the earth, who, for whatever reasons unique to their experience, understanding, and individual evolution, are unable to manifest much more than a Risen tar-paper shack—if even that. While they might be able to fantasize about a sumptuous Hollywood mansion, more than likely the nature of that image is of the earth-bound, ego-mind’s desires and so could not in any real way be imaginally expressed in the higher astral realms.
For example, the nature of greed appears to manifest in the earthly realm as an energy that is able to acquire, accumulate, and manifest imagined wealth in all its forms of ego-mind desire. In the Risen Worlds, however, the nature of greed, having been individualized and nurtured through belief and habit on the earth, but now accepted into the infinite capacity of Authentic Self, is no longer a toy in the hands of the limited and now dissolved ego-mind. Instead, through the greater and unlimited power of the Higher Mind, the emptiness of greed is like dry air blowing over a parched landscape. And that is what most likely will manifest—landscapes of vast, empty expanses of dead and dying vegetation, unable to grow or revive from lack of the energy of a loving, serene spirit that is connected to Original Source, whence outpours all sustenance.
I see the greatest gift we have been given by Original Creator Source as the ability to change our mind. Many, many souls, upon coming to a stagnated state of mind, become trapped by their ignorance of their true nature, which is that the Mind of the Highest Self is also their own mind and is shared by all individualized minds. The illusion of ignorance further manifests as an illusion of fear, and thus seems to result in a trap or as ‘hell.’ Many of our spirit rescues here involve the answering of mental and emotional cries for help from souls imprisoned in the illusion of their fears. Others never seem to feel the need to ask for help, and some even knowingly resist it.
It’s greatly comforting and invigorating to know that Nature—that is, flowers, trees, gardens and forests, animals, birds, and people, are awaiting us when we leave this terrestrial experience and transition to the next.



_________________________
(1) Tim’s experiences sound very similar to the currently developing theory of biocentrism, which posits that life and biology are central to being, reality, and the cosmos — life creates the universe rather than the other way around.

Tuesday, October 31, 2023

Be With Me


 To open out into manifestation the wonderful possibilities hidden in the Creative Power of the Universe requires two seemingly separate things of me— to see that I myself am necessary as a center for focusing that power — consciously feeling the knowing of “I Am” — while simultaneously withdrawing the thought of myself as contributing anything to the efficiency of this power. (Not me, but Thee.) I Am is the lens that can focus Itself, consciously or less than consciously. Source is the Light (or Power, or Higher Self) that passes through the lens, which is my human self, concentrated and guided by my mental and emotional human self, to illuminate and manifest images upon the background of Mind. It is not I that work but the Power; yet the Power needs me because it cannot specialize itself into images without me — each is the complementary of the other. The higher the degree of specialization desired, the more necessary is the intelligent and willing co-operation of the individual, which is true surrender. Truth, whether individual or cosmic, looks and even feels different from different places, while never ceasing to be truth. Therefore my positioning, or posture, or attitude determines my experience, my perception, my feelings, depending on the way I am focusing my I-Amness and from where. And what is “the way”?  “I Am” is The Way.

(Adapted and expanded from Thomas Troward by August Goforth )

Affirm:
“Be with me”
and then bask in the feeling of the resulting experience.

Monday, September 25, 2023

Spirit Artifacts; Pasternak Apport

Пастернак упорствует! (Updates: Scroll to the end) 

August 25, 2023



This is a tale about Apports & Spirit Orchestration, so do one's best to remain curious, unbiased and unafraid as it unfolds.

I'm now nearing the end of a month's vacation I luxuriously granted myself; August for August. I had already started painting again a couple months ago, exploring the media of watercolour that I had been trained in as a child, and love most of all techniques. During this time, I decided to work through some remaining grief from the transition of my siamese child, McHenry by painting about him (he had manifested via ectoplasm in a dark seance a few months his transition, and about which I produced a painting- another blog for another time.)  As I painted, Fiona, his sister, who had transitioned last year, leaving me in a great black hole of grief, came and watched. McHenry then began participating, and we painted a few abstracts I now call "Spirit Artifacts" - and then Fiona and I painted some that displayed her memories of certain stages of her transition. And then William Hurt, the actor -- who had been "dispatched" to me shortly after his transition to support me in my grief about Fiona and for me to help guide him in his newly transitioned state -- became interested, and Bill (he insists I use this name) and I painted a series of Spirit Artifacts about the various stages that he could recall about his transition. And as we focused on this intense creative endeavour, my main guide, Boris Pasternak, was drawn to our energies, and then said that he wanted to try it. Because he could not and/or would not remember his long-ago transition, and knowing that I'm also a poet, he decided we would numinously enter a few of his poems and interpret them as Spirit Artifacts -- the results shown below, as informally recorded by an iPad camera.

Revenons à nos moutons. A couple days ago -- Wednesday to be precise, with no-time on my hands, I decided to venture once again into the depths of Manhattan, specifically, SoHo and parts of the East Village. SoHo (SOuth of HOuston Street; "Houston" is pronounced "how-ston"). SoHo was, in the early 1900's, a district of business filled with warehouses and factories. In the mid-1900's, it began to change to a district that was growing with art and people, as many artists were moving from Greenwich Village to get away from the intrusive invasive capitalism, and found refuge in the enormous lofts with floors and floors of empty factories.

I can recall when Soho was practically deserted of human habitation even in the early 1980's, but still a strange and magical place. One of my favourite experiences was when I passed what apparently used to be a factory and warehouse for primarily black pepper, and decades later, I still sneezed when passing it. My landlord at that time was one of the few people to live in what was basically an unconverted loft - which defies description - who had bought the building to renovate it through his company known as the mysterious "Karma Inc." headed by a stern man who had once been an abbot in a Tibetan monastery.

Revenons à nos moutons again. There had been tentative plans with a friend to go along with me on one of 3 possibilities: The New Museum; a movie; meandering. But he was unable to join me, and as difficult as it is for me to choose something, I felt drawn to the movie at The Angelika Theater, one of my fave places since way back when. The film was a weird sci-fi indie, which while very very clever, left me feeling disturbed.  This was further accentuated by the fact that there were only 3 other people in the entire theater besides me - strange, but not untypical for a weekday afternoon outside the tourist districts, and while most NYers are at work. I left to meander to my fave chocolate shop, Marie Belle, and discovered I was headed in the wrong direction - not hard to do coming out from a dark place into the disorienting chaos of the city. As I reoriented myself, I continued to feel disturbed; a shifting from dark to darker; lonesome; abandoned. I began to feel overcome by decades-old memories of meandering these streets with friends now long gone, all taken hostage and swept away by the AIDS pandemic. I recall writing in The Risen about feeling as if a great Mother Ship had come and taken everyone but me; I was feeling this again as I absent-mindedly turned another corner. There was so many routes I could take to the chocolate shop, I wasn't paying attention, just pointing myself in the general direction, while continuing to feel my feet touching something other than the ground. I now realize that I was entering a dimension of Spirit that is There and not here: the Impossible and not the only possible; Other Side Up Looking In.

As I turned a corner that was no longer a terrestrial corner but fading incandescently, I passed yet another empty storefront, probably a casualty of the bleaker of recent covid times, and was very briefly pulled from my morbid mediumistic reveries by a book left out in the open on an architectural piece of one of the doorway pillars. I passionately love printed books, and also love that sometimes they will be left by previous owners out on the streets here, perhaps in hopes they might be of use to someone else. They're seldom very good or interesting, but this one was unusual in that it was a hardcover, seemingly quite old, and had a painting on the cover. Closer examination revealed the title was in Russian cyrillic and the painting of some Cossak-ish looking figure. Mildly interesting but I didn't bother picking it up after a brief glance, as I couldn't read Russian and didn't care about Cossacks.

I resumed my journey to the chocolate oasis and had taken less than 10 steps when I was almost rudely stopped by an odd feeling-realization: wait a minute, was there just the one book? But why would I be thinking that? Besides, the truffles were calling. But I went back all the same, to discover that my intuition was right: there was another book beneath the Merry Cossack:


I thought I recognized the smallish portrait on it, as well as the gold-embossed cyrillic, having just completed 5 paintings with their owner, Boris Pasternak.  What are the odds? Although there are a couple small Russian/Ukranian neighborhoods in this and other boroughs, this particular area is not in any way. This particular book - old, non-English, peculiar but clearly boring - left on a street in one of the largest cities in the world, where thousands of people theoretically passed it, but none ever saw it; only I. The other book was clearly there to hide and even discourage anyone from seeing this one, and orchestrated for me and only me. I was stunned into a kind of numbness that, once worn off, I realized this was an actual apport -- of a 1st edition book about his famously acclaimed novel Doctor Zhivago. It was his way of giving me a spirit arm around my shoulder, to comfort me from my dismal siberian inner mental meanderings. (No offense meant to any Siberians, but I'm hoping you know what I mean.) The actual translated title here is "Doctor Zhivago - Autobiographical Prose; Selected Letters - cloth bound, 1st edition, Moscow, 1999. 

This is the 2nd time Boris has used communication involving this particular novel (utilizing a funny commentary via a well-known song from the movie of the novel) --  and so now I refer the reader to the blog posting of the story when he first introduced himself to me via a spectacular spirit-precipitated self-portrait, rendered in my 2 favourite colours. It also involved McHenry. The further in you go, the bigger it gets:

Precipitated Painting of Boris Pasternak

WHERE IS MOOSE & SQUIRREL?

Here are the Spirit Artifact paintings Boris and I produced, in their manifested order. 1-4 are mystical renderings of his poems, and titled the same. Possibly more to come. Primarily executed in watercolour paints (plain and iridescent) and inks (plain, scented and iridescent) with other traditional pigments including mica). As for the other paintings mentioned before, I hope to exhibit them on an online gallery once I find the proper scanner - any recommendations, please feel free to offer guidance.

[All paintings 6"x9"; All paintings © August Goforth]

1. In The Woods

2. Snow Is Falling

3. August


4. A Brazier's Bronze Cinders


5. Untitled


9/26/2023
Пастернак упорствует!
Pasternak persists!

A good friend who has been acquainted with the Risen material even long before it was published, shared the following after our recent conversation about the Pasternak apport event (detailed above).  We had just had a long discussion about his possibly accepting my invitation to attend a rare physical mediumship event in the Spring. A couple days after, my friend reports the following. Keeping the idea of spirit orchestration, note that his locating and reading Pasternak's novel preceded the apport affair.

"I'd been wanting to read Pasternak's Dr. Zhivago forever, and then your apport story pushed it up the to-read list. I didn't have a copy, though. Two weeks ago I was in a used bookstore in Philly, actually looking for another novel, which they didn't have. I had already picked out a book for my wife, but then realized I had no cash, and I knew this place, at least years ago, did not accept credit cards. I asked anyway and they now accept them, but with a $15 limit. I looked for another book, Mann's Doctor Faustus, to reach the limit, but they didn't have it either. Then I remembered Zhivago, and looked and they had a lovely paperback of a recent translation. 

"I've been toying with reading Zhivago for a week, then finally this afternoon felt like I could start it again and get into it. I read the first 10 pages again and decided to sit on the front stoop and read in the sun. I went out, read a few pages then started watching a guy lock his bike to a pole. He looked back at someone coming up the sidewalk. I looked to see who it was and it was a woman carrying a bunch of colorful clothing on a pole across her shoulders.  When she got closer I saw that they were shirts, sports jerseys, 30 or 40 of them, all different, very colorful. As she walked in front of me the one on the end facing me had a name on the back, the only name I could see: Pastrnak. He's a Czech pro hockey player. I had never heard of him."

I remarked that this had Spirit Orchestration written all over it, and asked my friend how this experience made him feel. He responded:

"What am I feeling? It makes me feel good, like I am harmonized with something larger, part of it all, all of it moving forever. One of the characters in Zhivago actually talks about this feeling in the opening pages: 

“I think one should be loyal to immortality, which is another word for life, a stronger word for it. One must be true to immortality — true to Christ! Ah, you' re turning up your nose, my poor man. As usual, you haven't understood a thing." 

My friend added:

"Another thing. I had read in the introduction that one criticism of the novel had been its reliance on coincidences. Pasternak countered by saying, "The frequent coincidences in the plot are (in this case) not the secret, trick expedients of the novelist. They are traits to characterize that somewhat willful, free, fanciful flow of reality."

I (August) report this ongoing story just to record its personal, evidential meaning to me and my friend, and not to try to convince anyone outside the experience of its validity. Thus, exemplifying without explanation, it may perhaps provide the kind of validity that other readers might be seeking for their own personal numinous experiences.