The Madness Of Sadness With Happiness

I’m a Christian (defined as a person Baptized in the Christian faith and a believer in the words theoretically spoken by the man Jesus). I’m a Buddhist (defined as a follower of the Eightfold Path). I’m a Hindu (defined as a believer in God In All Things). I am a Taoist (defined as having recognized all is only a supremely intelligent, unmoved field of infinite wisdom without intention other than to be). I am a follower of the way of the American Indian, generally (defined as one who recognizes his connection with the Gaia). I am a scientist, however poorly educated (I believe creation may be reduced to a set of equations confirming infinite existence). For various purposes, both selfish and unselfish, I am also a Pagan, a Jew, a Muslim and any other belief system one may find practiced or otherwise held in the mind of Mankind. if I am to be acceptable to GOD I must accept GOD.

Here’s why. In the Old testament of the Hebrew religious scriptures, prior to the advent of Christ Consciousness in the man Jesus, there is a passage I accept as true and presented as direct communication from YHVH stating; GOD is omnipresent (everywhere) omnipotent (powerful above all else) and omniscient (seeing the all and the everything). Elsewhere in that same set of scriptures the statement “All is GOD” is found. This means to me that nothing exists or can be found outside of GOD, untouchable by GOD or doable without GOD’s approval. Therefore all that happens, including sadness, murder, mayhem, gladness, joy and creativity, does so with the absolute sanctity of GOD. This alone is enough to make one both full of misery and filled with joy at the same time. Madness in other words.

A corroborative quote from the Hebrew bible: The workings of Man are as foolishness to GOD. The workings of GOD are as foolishness to Man.

I Love you and there is nothing you can do to stop me. That is the heart of Christianity.

Cold Water Rebirth

A small primer: Rebirthing is a breath process. In its classic "clinical" setting it's done in three stages. 1) ten open air sessions with a male or female but not both 2) followed by one hot tub session 3) followed by ten with the other bonding gender 4) followed by a cold water rebirth. There is more than one participant on hand at the two water rebirths.

At my first cold water Rebirth "Allow" was the overall atmosphere of the work shop. One pursued to the depth of their choice. There were several dozen attending. I was accompanied by three seasoned Rebirthers and the water was in a hotel tub, filled with buckets of ice cubes from the machine in the hall. Water, of course, was floating the ice.

As I lowered my naked body into the icy water my awareness opened to a holographic experience. I simultaneously saw my guides as if I was looking out from eyes in my upper back, the ice water beneath me with my physical eyes like being in another world, and through the eyes of an Alaskan Inuit pitching head first into the Arctic waters. I felt feelings of having committed suicide as this person in a past life. There were no other offerings, there was no me, there was no reasoning. Only mindless fear of death and the cold and the momentum of determined commitment to do this filled my awareness. I was open to reasons for being afraid but saw nothing. I was doing this and no one was pushing me.

Later, as I sat in the conference room on the floor, remembering how resistant I was from the beginning to attend this Loving Relationship Training workshop, this poem came to me. It's a lot lighter than the image of the cold water rebirthing.

Anxious about the cold,
And I feel really old
On death I must be sold
“lets get it over with!”

Cold water freaks me out
I’m really not that stout
Makes me want to shout
“Lets get it over with!”

Angry fighting feelings
My head is set to reeling
Fearful breath is fleeting
“Lets get it over with!”

Ease into the water
Leave is what I oughta
The scream is getting louder
“Lets get it over with!”

Out of water, into the air
Its colder still over there
Fearless now “in the pink”
I feel a glow… and not a care.

Most of all, I cleared a LOT of fear that weekend.

Psychic Surgery: Fact or Fiction

I don’t remember the exact date when I first saw a documentary on Psychic Surgery, but it was sometime in 1969. I was visiting my mother on Merritt Island and we were sitting around the dining room chatting about this and that when a documentary of the subject came on television. I remember that it was produced on behalf of a major network and it was obviously biased by a disbelief in the possibility of such. At the time I was fascinated by the subject though by that time in my life I had forgotten my spiritual heritage and was fully immersed in the attempt to become a “normal” human being with the ordinary goal of being the best disk jockey in the radio business. We watched without comment. We were all riveted by what looked like a man doing something with his fingers over the exposed lower abdomen of a Asian woman. There was a short movement and he lifted his hands and placed an object in a bowl. It looked like what I’ve since heard doctors refer to as a polyp. The commentator, sounding very objective, said that it could just as easily been a piece of chicken or some other animal, that the psychic surgeon had secreted into the scene through some slight of hand. Part of me wanted to agree with him. But something subtle reminded me to stay open to this fascinating concept. I had experienced surgery in the classic method several times and for a number of problems by then and this event looked like a preferred way to go.

The evening passed and it was three years later that another event altered my perspective, decided my direction and changed my mind about the nature of reality, forever. At age twenty five, after 14 months of intense daily contemplation of my life and purpose, I experienced a complete loss of any sense of self and entered into a state of ecstasy. Along with all that implies came the perception that our physicality is merely an illusion. A play of light upon the screen of the theater of mind. This experience is connected to our subject only as a means of identifying the mechanics of the process. If in fact we are only light at the simplest level of our being then anyone who may perceive the phenomenon of that dimension has a key to access that dimension. Of course it would hold that to work there with any recipient, the recipient must be in cooperation with the practitioner. And so my story of my experience with psychic surgery begins.

I was in my 42nd year and had been a massage therapist for several years. I had met my friend Silmar a few months earlier and she was deeply connected to the community of healers locally and knew about many of the more obscure events that took place. I was at home in my apartment when the lady I was dating at the time came by. She was all excited about this man she had met at a local residence who was performing this service all day and into the night for all who asked. As usual, in spite of my openness, I was skeptical. I listened but did not act until I got a call from Silmar. She said “Come over here right away!” My friend and I left immediately and arrived in a few minutes at a house in Winter Park. From there we went to a garage that had been converted to an apartment. As I entered the room I saw a beautiful man of average stature and a very demure woman of whom I took little note. The room was filled with a light that I had only experienced in the moments of extreme joy. It came as if from the very atmosphere itself.

I should tell you now, that from the time of my early childhood, I have had many injuries and insults visited upon my body. The number of traumatic experiences are in the hundreds. But None are as great as the anger I have felt toward myself for living in denial of my true nature and the source of my Being. My anger manifested most profoundly in my liver. The sensitivity of this region was such that while laying on my back the weight of my hand on my chest or abdomen was too painful to bear.

After entering the room I was instructed to remove my clothes, leaving my underwear on, and to lay down on a massage table covered with a white sheet. Silmar and my other friend were with me and watched from the side as I did this. The practitioner then spread a salve-like substance that smelled strongly of camphor but contained other ingredients I feel certain. He moved very quickly and I was able to lift my head to watch his hands. He wore slacks and a long sleeved white shirt that was rolled up passed his elbows. There was no way he could hide anything in his hands which I noted with a casual thought. The energy of the room was intense but pleasant. I was not afraid but very attentive to his actions. He lightly brushed my entire torso, his hands circling my upper abdomen. Suddenly he said “liver” out loud and then began a movement that looked like rolling out dough to make bread. He moved quickly, with clarity and confidence, pushing away from the area of my liver. It reminded me of the story of the parting of the Red Sea. It was as if they were the "ghosts" of layers of water covering me. I could see through these waves as though they were glass. (I have learned since then that these Psychics see the body as if it were water). After a few pushes in three directions away from the area of my liver he then formed a shape like a bowl with his hands, fingers curved and pointed toward the area surrounding the point of my discomfort. I began immediately to feel a warmth in the center of the tissue under his hand. The only way to describe it is to liken it to the heat I felt when working on radio transmitting equipment during my years in the broadcasting industry. I occasionally had to climb a tower to change warning bulbs while the station continued to transmit at a greatly reduced wattage. If I held the tower too tightly or too long in one place I would feel the heat build in my bones as it slowly cooked me. The difference is that felt like dirty heat. This was a clean and graceful heat. After a few short moments his fingers disappeared into my abdomen up to the second knuckle joint. They went right into my body! Intellectually I was astounded while feeling completely at ease with all that was transpiring. Suddenly there was a noise like plopping/squirting sound accompanied by small drops of blood that spattered my face and torso. I simultaneously saw something dark fly from my upper belly just under the bottom rib very close to my mid-line. He moved to a bowl that his assistant now held and flicked what looked like a slightly irregularly shaped piece of tar about an inch long as thick as a pencil lead. He did a few other things to me, all less dramatic but with ease and Grace. It was very easy to surrender to his loving touch. It was obvious that his dispassionate approach treated me with respect and impersonal positive regard. I felt loved by a force beyond the totality of our person.

I left the room after repossessing my clothing. Later while sharing the experience with my friend Silmar and my girlfriend Elizabeth, both reprted seeing a hole open up in my abdomen. They "could see my guts." I, on the other hand, could not see past the bottom of my rib cage as I tilted my head.

Many went to him that day and they all experienced profound healing in his presence. Some resisted and had a harder time of it, others surrendered and were touched with ease.

After the event, and for several months, I could see a small, jagged red line, much like a spider vein, right where the pain had been centralized. That gradually faded and is now only memory. The pain went away immediately and has never returned. I am truly grateful for all involved.

I was told this man would pray with his assistant for many hours each day in devotion to his love of Christ. I have also learned that he was an ambassador to the United States from his native country and that someone here, who felt threatened by this form of healing, informed the State Department. Consequently, he was told never to return to America. (This article was originally published in the Healthy Alliance Journal Vol. III No. 5 in November of 1996.)

Stored Injustice and Attacks

This past Saturday the 13th of March, a little over a week ago, I began the Avatar Integrity Course. It seems there were about sixty of us in attendance. I went with a lot of enthusiasm and interest in getting free of some limiting patterns I suffer from every day. These patterns are typically obscured by longing for relief.

I say "I suffer" but the reality is we all (everyone I meet or am connected to in life) suffer from my patterns. The patterns create energy flux one could liken to a stick protruding from the surface of a pond. Buffeted by the wind it creates disturbances in the surface of the pond. Every living thing in the pond is disturbed. Life is fraught with chaos and infirmity.

Dealing with these patterns is a whole lot easier and infinitely quicker when someone assists, in a loving way, my coming to awareness of the pattern and the beliefs that create it. The Avatar Integrity Course is deliberately designed to provide that opportunity.

I want to share with you three results. There were more, considerably more, but these stand out.

I suffer from a build up of perceived injustices visited upon me by the world or my fellows resulting in transparent beliefs. The perceived injustices inevitably stemmed from experiences I instigated in life. They formed a pool of fear and resentment when I failed to take responsibility during or following their advent: I would hit a bump in the road, blame something or someone and lick my wounds while racing for the next experience. I created the experience, I hit the bump and placed blamed (damn Bump!). Then I attacked the next person who came forward offering another opportunity to take responsibility for my previous creation. (You're another damn bump!).

Second, and quite valuable, is the feeling of attacking another to avoid taking responsibility. That feeling, in my body, is subtle and nearly instantaneous. It starts with a resistance, followed by a withdrawing of my attention from my fellow and proceeds to an outflow of energy. In most cases the energy is subtle, accompanying words or actions which hide the underlying motive to attack. The words or actions may actually be words of praise or intended to help.

Third is a real eye opener and explains a lot of failed relationships. I see I both draw people to me and push them away at the same time. I want to experience love but I fear the intimacy of true connection. I remember a loved one saying to me years ago "Why are you pushing me away" when I wanted so much for her to come closer. It made absolutely no sense at the time.

These painful situations are created by unseen transparent beliefs. Beliefs formed in my past to justify protecting and/or attacking to avoid repeating an experience for which I have yet to take responsibility.

The result? I end up feeling isolated and struggling for the love I deserve to receive and give. Others struggle to love me but cannot connect without being attacked or confronting a wall of defense. I am emotionally unavailable to them.

Through the Avatar material I have made real progress in mitigating this condition. I am grateful to Harry Palmer, the creator of Avatar and I am exceptionally grateful for the Avatar materials.

Calamity on State Road 3

Like many of my life stories this reads like "Mr. Toad's Wild Ride." I have several relating to cars but this one stands out as miraculous.

Having failed two grades I was twenty one years old when I dropped out of high school in my senior year. The principal wouldn't let me date this beautiful exchange student from Denmark so I used it as an excuse to get serious about my drinking.

I would drive my 1956 Pontiac from Merritt Island to Melbourne every evening and meet my friend Larre. We'd cruise around town drinking beer and hard liquor. Crusin and boozin we called it.

This went on for a few months. Then one night I learned there is more than one set of eyes looking past my nose and I should heed my intuition. Clearly an encounter with my Higher Self and the knowledge my body has an intelligence all its own.

I'd bought the car for eighty dollars from a little old lady who had put only forty thousand miles on it the twelve years she drove it. It was a big V8, I mean BIG V8. All I had to do was remove the front bumper, replace the radiator and the brake vacuum assist. Beyond that the car was immaculate with cloth seats and a great radio. It would float along at 130MPH all day long. I should have replace the bald tires in front.

On this evening I had a feeling of foreboding as I exited my apartment. I knew on some level I should heed this strong sensation. My ego was determined though and I pushed the body on right out into the car. I really enjoy driving.

My favorite part of the drive was State Road 3 South on Merritt Island. I would take it at night with my lights off, seeing by moonlight, keeping one eye on the line down the middle. The road was lightly traveled and this was daring and exciting. If I saw lights up ahead they were always around a curve as the road winds though oak and cabbage palm forest. I would switch on my lights get past the oncoming traffic then switch off again. At 90MPH this was a great fun.

At the very end, a mile before the road crosses the Banana River at Mather's bridge, there is a very curvy stretch barely two cars wide. The trees are thickest, lining the road like soldiers at attention. Its impossible to leave the road without coming to a near halt first.

I'm maybe two hundred feet from the beginning of that piece of road when someone backs out of a driveway with their lights off and turns them on. Surprised I touch the brakes to cut the forward momentum. My new vacuum brake assist multiplies the pressure and instantly the bald front tires peel off the rims, the front end goes down and the car flips over. It comes down hard on its top, crushing the roof to the dashboard. I'm upside down in the car, my belly laying on the ceiling of the car watching the road make sparks dance into the cab as the road whizzes by underneath. In my mind I think "Am I going to die?" Out of my mouth comes a loud and profound "NO!"

The car careens around the curves another two hundred feet spinning 360 degrees at the same time. Without touching a single tree the car finally coming to rest lodged cross ways in the road between trees on either side.

When the movement stops I quickly crawl out the back window and stand there on the side of the road looking at it with heart ache. A man comes out of the house behind me and asks me if the people inside the car are hurt. I say no, I'm not. He looks at me funny and says "YOU?! You were in that car?" I nod to which he says... there have been thirty seven accidents in front of this house and you're the only one who is not injured or dead.

Traffic was backed up for fifteen miles because there were no other exits from the Island until you got back to State Road 520 which runs East and West. I got a ticket from a trooper who, taking pity on me, made it for SPEED TO GREAT FOR CONDITIONS RESULTING IN AN ACCIDENT.

It took four hours for the tow truck to dislodge my 1956 Pontiac from the squeeze. The next day I went into a deli, realized I was very uncomfortable when I didn't have money for a beer and decided I had become addicted to alcohol. I stopped drinking until the craving ceased.

Jealousy. Really Feel It

Jealousy is a powerful emotional experience. This "fire" spurs behavior from a simple snicker to full blown rage laying waste to all before us. It feels like black and filthy heat billowing from an unquenchable pyre in the gut.

In my first encounter with jealousy I was nine. I saw my friend Gregory with Jeannie from down the street smooching. I felt the fire heard my Higher Self instruct me; "Notice, remember."

There were many instances over time. Two events had a major impact on my life.

It was 1969, I was twenty two and married to a very beautiful, intelligent and gregarious German woman; a party sprang up where ever she was. I was obsessed and deeply fearful of loosing her. I felt unworthy.

One evening her wilder, older sister invited her to a girls night out, to go to a hotel on the beach and party. I felt threatened but kept my tongue as I drove her there. I feared there was another man. I felt abandoned.

As we pulled into the foyer and she got out I lost my restraint. Jumping from the car I grabbed her and attempted to place her in the car.

I watched, from somewhere inside of me, this near fatal collision with jealousy. In the struggle my reasoning slowly gained sway and I surrendered to her. I drove away crying. I felt foolish, scared and angry with myself.

That I had serious issues was obvious but I didn't see them clearly yet. I did know jealousy was a symptom not the problem.

Over the years I'd awakened a little to my insecurities regarding sexual prowess. My first encounter at sixteen had been a disaster. I decided then I would become an adept lover. That forward focus obscured my fear of being inadequate.

Working on my self image and living through attacks of jealousy over the next twenty years brought clarity. At forty two I believed jealousy was dead in me.

Then I met a woman that fit every fantasy image I had. She was the perfect mid-life crisis partner. We moved in together and played house but she told me up front not to expect exclusivity. This put me on edge and I saw the ugly head of jealousy peek around the corner. The affair was a roller coaster ride of the scariest kind with many extremes. Though men came around none were admitted.

After a year of obsession and unabated passion I move out. It didn't help. My obsession diminished not one iota.

Then on Halloween I unwittingly created hell on earth, again. We decided we would go out in costume, I as a court jester in pink and yellow (a fool) and she as a sexy kitty cat. Perfection!

We went to a pub. What a set up. I was the only male in costume, that of an idiot, and the other guys there wore jeans and T shirts. I got very drunk. I've always held my liquor well. This was no exception.

We hit a few other spots and before the night was over we had picked up a young man of about twenty three. He was obviously attracted to her.

At one point she whispered to me "I want to take this puppy home. Would you ride with him and show him the way?" I agreed. I knew where this was going but I loved her and I wanted to be free from the "dirty fire" now cooking me. Permanently free.

When we arrived it was evident he was afraid. He didn't know what was going on so I chatted with him and he relaxed.

I, on the other hand, was in divine agony. About three AM I got on my motorcycle and left. I screamed all the way home.

For the next six weeks I bounced between wanting to castrate myself and wanting to make love to her. I spent every waking moment feeling this as deeply as I was able. Fully feeling every moment is the key.

What really happened?

My first wife pretended to orgasm many times during our relationship then finally had one months after we'd married. The deception and admission deeply wounded my fragile self confidence. As years passed when I approached having orgasm I would become numb, unfeeling. I didn't know why, it progressed so slowly.

This wonderful, beautiful woman I was having an affair with had been sexually abused by a family member through her adolescence. She was unable to experience orgasm more than once with the same man.

The insecurity, the absence of confidence and our inability to be fully present and contribute to each others surrender to love in pleasure was healed. That was our gift to one another. And yes, we did very much love each other. Sex with love does heal intelligent hearts.

Goddess

She’s gorgeous!
She’s so wonderfully bright
Her face is compelling,
And filled with a light,
That darkens day,
And dispels the night.
A lush pulsing mix,
Of pink and pure white,
With splashes of crimson,
And blue.
Haunting eyes that flash sparks
Gold speckled yellows,
Like meadowlarks.
Mornings deep,
Rich,
Shimmering dew.
Odors of soft roses long-stemmed,
Strikes poses that melt away men
Long Lashes so thick,
Eyes large so forlorn,
Promise passion,
Hurricane borne.
Lips sweetly parted, full, rich,
And reds too numerous to name.
Teeth so strong sparkle white
And each is true,
To high form.
Chin slightly dimpled,
Her neck and throat supple,
So velvety, ivory smooth.
My lips, she soon must adorn!
Breasts small and so round
Each sweet soft mound
Beckons,
Caresses yet scorned.
Her hands speak of touching ,
Deft strokes of creamed friction,
Thick sultry depictions,
Of fantasies,
The old
And some new.
“ Aaahh yes, dear man touch me,
make love and penetrate me,
devour, and my sweet,
just plain, take me!
I am yours,
you hunger”

She knew.