On this day, having fully packed, I journey down to Joshua Tree. And I’ve just had a dream which is totally intriguing to me. I can’t drag myself away from it, even after awakening.
It may be the case that you had to be there, but I’ll try my best to describe it.
“The Event,” by which he points to a rise in consciousness, has already begun, Archangel Michael told us Monday on An Hour with an Angel. And what occurred in my dream does show up for me as some aspect of expanding consciousness. I feel as if I know a little bit more about myself after it.
I generally don’t say much about myself, partly out of some felt necessity but more because it just doesn’t feel important to do so. Yes, I talk about my inner states, thoughts, feelings, but nothing about past lives or where I come from, etc. It just doesn’t seem relevant to the task at hand.
And in some cases, what I’ve heard is discombobulating. It took me months to adjust to what was triggered in me when I heard about one life.
Many guides have said that they don’t want to tell us about our past lives because they want us to focus on the present and the task at hand.
I once asked AAM about a past life of Jesus and he replied that Jesus did not want me to focus on his past lives but on his life as Jesus. And every day I understand more and more about that desire.
But one matter is relevant and that’s that, according to Archangel Michael but also according to a growing sense in me, I’m aware that outside this body, I don’t have a body.
That sounds rather strange but it relates to my dream as well, which I’ll come to in a minute.
Archangel Michael keeps encouraging me to do things that ground me in my body, such as getting out in nature and doing things that create enjoyment of being in a body because, as he and the Arcturians through Sue Lie have said, and the man on the spaceship in my lucid dream said as well, it’s been a while since I’ve been in one.
He wants me to stick around for a while so he also wants me to ground myself to Gaia. I keep thinking I’m going to float off into space if I don’t sink my feet in mud.
The one mild fantasy I have is to buy a sports car again that I had in 1968 (a Tr-4). It isn’t a strong interest for me but AAM heartily applauds it I think because he wants me to find some interest – any interest – in remaining here. Driving a car around may provide that interest.
I’m having difficulty having fun because fun for me is an entirely internal concept and has no outer correlates. What is the height of fun to me is not to ski down mountain snow or deep-sea dive or walk the halls of Parliament, but to feel an inner bliss.
I’ve told the joke about Sue Lie before, when she described a meeting of a higher-dimensional Arcturian High Council and I asked how they meet, since they’re formless. Did they sit on chairs? And she said “No chairs.” Well, that was so much outside my frame of reference that I laughed. What did they do? Float in the air?
We both laughed because it’s the same for her: outside the body, no body. Literally nobody going nowhere.
And the man I met on the spaceship, upon us meeting, also said, with a look of pleased astonishment on his face: “The formless representative has taken form.” Excuse me? Say what?
But I’m getting used to the thought.
I’m not excited by travel; I’m pretty much a homebody. I don’t dream of being in another country. I love my own country, but that love is a love of the people; it isn’t particularly translated into a love of the land. Which brings me to my dream.
I was in a unit of some kind. It seemed to have a relationship to the military or perhaps it might be more accurate to say a kind of leadership role. And I was uncomfortable about some aspect of it.
I certainly loved my colleagues but they made their decisions without a notion of land entering into them – at all.
It took me most of the dream to realize what the source of my discomfort was and finally I saw what it was. Nothing they did bore any relation to a concept of landedness.
They owned no land. They made no decisions with land in mind. Their decisions completely revolved around people but did not take a notion of land into consideration at all.
It was wierd. Their discussions were fully baked. They were reachable as people. They just had nothing to say about and no interest in land.
Some of my colleagues were into power. They insisted that people be a certain way. They made decisions that produced plans of action. But never did their decisions show any awareness of such a thing as location or extent or property.
And for some reason I resisted that mindset.
It was rather like being in an alternate universe, as Robert Munroe once described it, (1) where life lacked certain dimensions and had other dimensions that were puzzling and needed figuring out.
I woke up when I actually figured out in the dream what the puzzling factor was. While I did have a sense of land in my dream, I realized upon waking that I did not have a sense of land in “real” life.
In real life, I was like them, but not like I ever thought about it until that moment.
My wife would want to go out for a drive in the country in Fall and ask me to come along and I’d be fifty-fifty with it. She’d have to drag me and I often had no sense of the countryside through which we were travelling. Hill, dale, road, bridge, tree, lake: All the same to me.
Yes, I did have little twinges. But of all the photos I took, I’m aware that I typically delete the ones of landscapes.
At Sedona, bunches of people wanted to go to the Grand Canyon and I just wanted to chat with more people. I wasn’t even much interested in hearing their descriptions of it when they returned. But keenly interested in their discussions of people’s reactions to it.
People ask me if I’m happy to be travelling and I say, “Hmmm, so-so.” I’m happiest being at home and my home is modest by anyone’s standards. Well, in fact it’s a single room and I joke with the team on Skype by saying, excuse me, I need to go into my kitchen and get a drink. I then move my chair back a foot from “my study” and open the fridge (“my kitchen”).
I’ve never owned land and have no desire to. I’ve never even owned my own building. My wife and I bought an apartment but I always had the thought that it belonged to my wife. I had no desire to own it and I existed in it with no spatial differentiations in mind.
Whenever a discussion would arise as to which room I wanted for myself or where I wanted to be in a restaurant or on a trip, I would reply that I lived in my head and my outer surroundings didn’t really matter much to me. Patagonia, the Antarctic, Paris, Tokyo, Kerala State – as beautiful as they all are, none of it registers with me.
As an Historian at the Canadian Museum of Man, they had me located in a warehouse (well, an exalted warehouse because it stored a nation’s historical artifacts). But the location to me didn’t matter at all. And I very seldom ventured back into the warehouse area.
There was a couple cheating on their spouses by making love in a Stanley Steamer backstage. (Fortunately, this was before closed circuit TV!) I didn’t know we owned a Stanley Steamer and never even visited it even after knowing about its notoriety. I have no spatial sense.
I even created a huge collection of contemporary artifacts but the artifacts themselves didn’t interest me. It was the pictures of people on them or their messages that did. Not the object as object. The message was the medium.
I have no sense of my country as a land. No desire even to visit the far reaches of space. When I watch a program about animals, I’m acutely interested in the animals and their behavior but not in their surroundings.
A tremendous desire to journey inwards. Yes, indeed. An acute interest in the well-springs of behavior, the patterns in our thought and conduct. All of that. Acute interest.
I don’t know what to make of it. It’s just there. I think it relates to formlessness. I’m certainly OK with it and comfortable with its nuances and corollaries. I’m not hankering to be any other way.
But the dream I had has awakened me to it. It’s probably part of the overall process of awakening. Now I’m aware of where my focus of attention is. It’s not on the surroundings, the scenery. It isn’t on the highlands or lowlands or pleasures and pursuits that revolve around the land or sea like cruises or other forms of traveling. It’s on people.
Someone will want to drag me away to look at a Joshua tree or to walk in the desert or see the stunning architecture of a restaurant and it won’t matter at all to me if we sit in the restaurant or the lobby or walk in a field of cacti.
OK, time to bathe, dress and get to the airport. I may be oblivious to the scenery, but I’d better not be oblivious to the time.
I’ll be checking my email but won’t have a lot of time to answer. Stephen Cook has agreed to cover for me. Thank you, Stephen.
(1) Journeys Out of the Body.