The Lives of the Dead

Some of the most interesting people I meet are dead…

Archive for the month “June, 2020”

Let’s Get (Quantum) Physical

first published June 16, 2016
multiverse

Big Bang Discovery Opens Doors to the “Multiverse” –  NatGeo

 

I’ve been reading a lot lately on quantum physics.  More and more, it seems science and spirituality are finding common ground.  I wanted to share some readings and thoughts on that subject, and would be most interested to hear what you have to say…

*****

For a long time, physicists have been theorizing about the possibility (probability?) of a multiverse — an infinite number of universes, each of which may be significantly or just minimally different from ours.   In one universe, you’re married to your high school sweetheart; in another, you never marry at all.   In some universe, Al Gore wins the U.S. election in 2000 and Bush never ascends to the presidency. In another universe, the Axis Powers prevail in World War II. All these universes co-exist, but they are generally opaque to us. We are only able to perceive the universe in which we exist. In fact, experiments in quantum physics demonstrate that the existence of particles (of which we are all made) is strictly a matter of observation.  (It’s all very complicated and goes against all rational logic. Even the great Nobel physicist Richard Feynmann said, “I think I can safely say that nobody understands quantum mechanics.”) Some physicists believe that, in fact, parallel universes can and do, indeed, interact with ours.

I find it fascinating that science is now providing supporting evidence for many spiritual philosophies.

For example, many medical doctors, scientists and spiritual philosophers (and I, too) believe that consciousness exists outside the human brain.  I’ve long believed that our minds are merely receptors , much the way a radio does not produce music but rather receives, amplifies, and translates the waves that produce it.   It’s easy to imagine someone with no understanding of radio waves believing the sounds are created within the box.  Are we humans naïve and egotistical to believe that our consciousness is self-originating?   Are we as laughably ignorant as a primitive tribesman looking for the tiny person inside a transistor radio?

If infinite external consciousness exists,   it would certainly answer quite a number of questions humans have been posing for millennia, not the least of which is what actually happens when we dream. Might we be able to pass into, or at least glimpse, other universes via our dreams?

***

Have you ever dreamed so vividly that upon awakening, you felt as if you’d actually been somewhere else; had a real experience?

Last night, I had such a dream.

I had been living in a foreign country and was leaving the next day for home. In this place, all the buildings were insanely tall. Real estate on those high floors was very limited and so expensive, even the rich could not afford to live there. Instead, people lived lower down with no view/little sunlight. Those with money, however, were able to buy small rooms on high floors, most with balconies, where they might partake of some sunshine and a less obstructed view of the sky. Most were just large enough for a day bed, perhaps a small desk. These were not living quarters; just a place to spend a few hours now and then, to get “above it all.”

On my last evening,  I was at a party in the room of a couple I know (in real life). Theirs was larger than most and had a long terrace. I was able to clearly see all the details– the furnishings, the guests, the layout, the view.

Suddenly, an ex-lover of mine showed up uninvited. He was someone I hadn’t seen in a long time and who I’d long written off (someone I’d loved in real life). My first thought was, “What is he doing here? I don’t want to see him. I am leaving here tomorrow, and leaving him in my past.” But he pulled me out onto the balcony for a serious conversation. I resisted at first, but we ended up speaking at length, with great intimacy, holding and touching each other,  I’d been sure that I had no feelings for him anymore, but there we were, talking nose to nose with love and familiarity, the fire kindled anew. All the old emotions came rushing back. The sense of intimacy was emotionally powerful and very real.

Then, like fast-forwarding a film, it’s ten years into the future and I’m looking back on my life. I never did go home the next day, but rather stayed and married him. We had two children together. (There were no other details.)

When I awoke, the feelings were still vivid.   I felt as if I’d actually lived the experience.

This was absolutely not a wish-fulfillment dream. It was rather surprising that I could still conjure any feelings for him, even in a dream state, and kind of mind-boggling to imagine that perhaps in some other time and place we might have stayed together.

It left me wondering if dreams are not only a manifestation of our psyche (which they certainly often are), but if they are also sometimes a doorway into another plane or universe; a channel to access information which is not available to our hyper-critical waking minds.

As usual, I don’t have answers. Only questions.   Curious to hear your thoughts on this.

—-

Buy the book!

If you are enjoying this blog,  please click the link above to subscribe and receive posts via email (new posts every three days).  When you think of others who might enjoy it too,  it’s easy enough to help spread the word! Post your favorite stories to social media.   Email a particularly apt link to a friend.   Even better,  talk about the concepts with others (whether you agree or disagree. )
Also,  I have just started a discussion group on Facebook,  for conversations about any of the concepts/issues in the posts.  Honestly, these are things in here which I don’t fully understand myself.  I would love  get your thoughts on this…even if you think this is all a bunch of hooey!
-Adrienne

Have More Fun in Bed!

New!

Lately, I’ve been taking an intellectual and philosophical deep dive into the mind-expanding qualities of psychedelics (without actually doing any myself.)  Just finished the very excellent “How to Change Your Mind” but Michael Pollan and am reading the slightly more scholarly “Way of the Psychonaut” by Stanislav Grof.    Grof was one of the original LSD researchers, back in the 60s, until the US government classified it and other hallucinogens as illegal substances, in the same category as heroin.   (Timothy Leary really fucked things up for those psychiatrists who were doing legit research.)

When he could no longer use LSD, psilocybin,  etc.,  he developed what he coined holotropic breathing,  holotropic from the Greek meaning “moving towards the whole,”  i.e. the integration of the mental and spiritual.   Most of us have heard of “altered states” vis a vis psychedelics but Grof finds that imprecise.  One’s state could be altered by a high fever or a mental breakdown, for example, but such states are not generally beneficial to our psyches.   So, how does one put oneself into a holotropic state with the goal of having a positive spiritual experience without drugs?

Holotropic breathing.  It takes quite a bit of practice and guidance from professionals, so I’m not suggesting you try it at home however it does bring on a hallucinogenic state that can be used for spiritual insight and growth.

During all this reading, I’m also taking an advanced hypnotherapy class (via Zoom, of course) with the very brilliant Melissa Tiers.   Last week, she taught us an interesting induction using a specific kind of breathing which, while not exactly Grof’s method,  works very well at quickly down-regulating the mind and body.  Essentially,  you breath in deeply, fairly quickly,  and exhale for twice as long. So,  inhale counting to three or four,  exhale slowly to six or eight.  (This is an excellent way to de-stressify when you’re feeling overwhelmed.)

As my regular readers know, I’ve been trying to astrally project at will for a long time.  My attempts to do so were the basis of this blog.  But,  I haven’t had much luck, to date (though I seem to have done it in dreams.)   I have tried getting myself into the proper state before bed, but either a) I fall asleep or more likely b) my darling husband starts snoring which just harshes my mellow.

Being that he wakes up much earlier than I do, I’ve started meditating in the morning, once he’s up and out of bed.  Rather than just do a normal meditation, i.e. with yogic breathing, or a Reiki style meditation, I’ve been using a version of Melissa’s breathing technique,  with an open-mouth, slightly forceful exhale,  a bit similar to Grof’s technique. My body starts to respond immediately.  It feels light and tingly, the precursors to an out of body experience.  The challenge has been to keep my mind focused on the breathing, and not become distracted.

The other morning, I finally succeeded!  Rather than floating straight up however, my astral body fluidly rolled forward, as if I were curling smoke. At the end of the bed, I just took off!  I was elated,  thinking “I’m doing it!!!”  I suppose I could have, should have, gone somewhere interesting but I but I was just so thrilled to be out of my body I was happy to just fly around the house.  I was singing loudly and joyfully  “The Sound of Music.” (I know it’s seems silly, but it captured my joyous mood — imagine Julie Andrews singing, spinning around,  in that beautiful alpine meadow.)  I did a couple of loops around the house, and then came back to bed where I felt asleep and didn’t wake up for a couple of hours.  (I asked Michael if he heard me singing and of course, he did not.)

Now I have a dilemma!  As you might imagine, I would like to be practicing every day until I can achieve lift-off at will.   Problem is,  I can easily end up in bed half the day, precluding me from getting anything else done, especially if I end up falling asleep, which is always a possibility.

Question:  When I do this, am I being a psychonaut or just a lazy slug?

 

Buy the book!

If you are enjoying this blog, please click the link above to subscribe and receive posts via email (new posts every three days). When you think of others who might enjoy it too, it’s easy enough to help spread the word! Post your favorite stories to social media. Email a particularly apt link to a friend. Even better, talk about the concepts with others (whether you agree or disagree. )
Also, I have just started a discussion group on Facebook, for conversations about any of the concepts/issues in the posts. Honestly, these are things in here which I don’t fully understand myself. I would love get your thoughts on this…even if you think this is all a bunch of hooey!
-Adrienne

Stranger in a Strange Land

First published Oct 11, 2014.

 

indiginous

Je

I was born among my people on land we had lived upon since the beginning of time. I was bound to that land through my soul.  I lived many, many lives there.

I knew all the trees by name. The paths through the woods had been worn deeper into the earth by my feet, over thousands of years.

I knew the place in the river where it curves around a sharp bend.  The fish got trapped there.  They were easy to catch. I knew the warrens of the rabbits  — the entrance hidden between the roots of a large tree or under a large, moss-covered rock. I knew where to set my traps. I never went hungry.  I knew every plant, nut and berry and which of them were edible, medicinal, intoxicating.

I knew every landmark; the way the silhouette of the hills cleaved the sky from every angle. I always knew how far I was from home.  I could walk for days and never get lost.

Everything I had ever seen or tasted or touched or heard or smelled had been of that land.   My parents were born there.  My grandparents were both there,  and theirs, and theirs, and theirs.   I was married there.  I had children there.  And everything they had ever seen or tasted or touched or heard or smelled had been of that land.

It was not a paradise.  Life was hard.  But it was our life.  We were characters in the same story as the land.  Inseparable.  Our histories, intertwined. To take one from the other would be to destroy both.

And then, eventually,  the Strangers came.  I was a grown child before I ever saw one with my own eyes.  But slowly,  like stalking a deer,  they drew closer in increments so small we barely noticed.

Soon there were borders which were not allowed to cross; where we were not allowed to hunt.   They would not bother us as long as we stayed on our side.  But they kept pressing forward,  encircling us,  drawing the noose tighter.  We were being strangled but we were too small a group to put up much of a fight.

Eventually,   they took us all to a place far, far away. There were many different people there, speaking languages I did not understand.  It seemed there were many who did not understand each other.

I did not understand this land.  It was dry and dusty.  There were no forests.  There were no streams or rivers anywhere.  There were no hills.   Just ugly, flat, colorless dust for as far as my eyes could see. I hated it instantly.  I was resentful and angry.  I had been forcibly removed from my past.  I no longer felt whole. I knew as long as I lived there I never would.

Some tried to live outside our forced settlement,  but it was nearly impossible to survive.  It was a world so different, so strange from the ones we had known. We had no skills; did not understand their customs or their ways.   At least within the settlement,  we were with others in the same predicament.  For the benefit of all, each People tried to put aside their ancestral differences with others,  so we might all work as one.

The elders knew immediately this would be the end of all of us.  In order to survive, it would be necessary to give up some of our past identity and forge a new identity.   If we were unwilling to do that, if we insisted on clinging to the old ways,  if we wasted our energy to getting back to the old lands which no longer existed as we once knew them, we would have been too divided and too weak to survive in the face of the Strangers.  We needed a single, strong, united voice.

Positions of power went to those from warrior Peoples.  My People were small in number and not known for their bravery against the Strangers. It was natural that we all put our faith in the mightiest warriors of all.

But,  in the end,  none of it did any good. Our weapons and tactics were ultimately useless against them.

The old ways are gone.  Some rituals and stories remain of course, but now, disconnected from the land, they no longer make sense. The food and methods of cooking are lost, because we could not find what we needed in our new land.  We lost our cures, our intoxicants, our aphrodisiacs.

We survived, but we did not thrive.

It had always been the duty of all elders to teach the young ones their People’s history, traditions, language,  culture and skills.   But now,  what did it matter?  Many elders realized this knowledge was not useful for the new world.  We needed to learn a common language so we could communicate with other People.  We needed to learn new skills for new land with new rules. What was the point of passing on valuable information such as the best place in the river to catch fish,  or the best place to set a trap for rabbit,  when that river and that mossy rock were half a continent away? (Nobody knew exactly how far,  but certainly a walk of many moons.)

There was no going back.  The elders were without hope.  Most,  like myself, who remembered the land eventually died lost and heartbroken,  with wounds to our souls that never healed.

The younger ones took to changes more readily,  more willingly.  For them, it was an adventure.  They didn’t have such long memories.

They had fewer psychic wounds but they also grew up without traditions and stories that bound them to their spiritual past, without the reassuring knowledge that they stood upon the land upon which they were born and to which they belonged.

They had no ambition for anything for what could they aspire to?

Some took on the ways of the Strangers.  I did not blame them.  They needed something to fill the huge gaping voids inside themselves.

If the old stories don’t work, find new ones.  So they discovered Jesus. They learned to read and write and count many things.  They learned the ways of the Strangers so they could interact with them and perhaps find some advantage.

But even with this, they were not accepted outside.

And so, all the Peoples are not really People at all anymore. They are the children of People and Strangers. It is impossible to be anything else.   They live in two worlds and will never again be whole.

I am grateful that many still have pride in who they are, in who we were.  It is good to know that the People still endure.

—-

Buy the book!

If you are enjoying this blog,  please click the link above to subscribe and receive posts via email (new posts every three days).  When you think of others who might enjoy it too,  it’s easy enough to help spread the word! Post your favorite stories to social media.   Email a particularly apt link to a friend.   Even better,  talk about the concepts with others (whether you agree or disagree. )
Also,  I have just started a discussion group on Facebook,  for conversations about any of the concepts/issues in the posts.  Honestly, these are things in here which I don’t fully understand myself.  I would love  get your thoughts on this…even if you think this is all a bunch of hooey!
-Adrienne22

Manipulator of Men

first published May 28, 2014

Golden Egg

 

Et

When I was young, I never met a man I didn’t want to manipulate. I was a beautiful child and grew into a beautiful young woman. My family was not at all rich but I quickly learned that I could get more of the little I had by playing a feminine game of misdirection: Make a man think he was going to get something from me, take whatever he offered in order to win those favors, and extricate myself cleverly before I had to pay the piper.

Finally, it came time for me to marry, because I knew I could not continue this way forever. My charms would not stay fresh indefinitely. I had to find a man who would give me what I wanted without being strong enough to demand too much in return. A rich son was the perfect fool, and he kept me comfortable for a long time. I was mostly faithful to him because I never gave away my favors cheaply. I did, however, use my charm on other men to get whatever my husband couldn’t give me; these other men were social conduits who helped me gain the spotlight.

I did have children, and I loved them in my way, but mainly they were also useful as a anchor around my husband’s neck.   Once the children came, he would not, could not leave me.

Over the years, I became used to him. He wasn’t a bad man. He provided well for me and my children. He was a good father.   I didn’t hate him or take pleasure in humiliating him, as did some women – even those far more “respectable” than I.   I valued his position in the community and was always discreet so as not to shame him, either privately or publicly, although people sometimes talked. They could prove nothing, so I ignored them.

I was already old when he died. I’d long lost my beauty, and had settled in to a comfortable and relatively content life. This became possible by readjusting my lofty goals to those more realistic. My number one priority was no longer being the center of attention.   It took me a long time to get to that point, but it’s good I finally learned it. At least I won’t have walk that path again.

 

 

—-

Buy the book!

If you are enjoying this blog,  please click the link above to subscribe and receive posts via email (new posts every three days).  When you think of others who might enjoy it too,  it’s easy enough to help spread the word! Post your favorite stories to social media.   Email a particularly apt link to a friend.   Even better,  talk about the concepts with others (whether you agree or disagree. )
Also,  I have just started a discussion group on Facebook,  for conversations about any of the concepts/issues in the posts.  Honestly, these are things in here which I don’t fully understand myself.  I would love  get your thoughts on this…even if you think this is all a bunch of hooey!
-Adrienne

Dream a Little Dream of Me

NEW!

 

(c) Shutterstock

 

I’ve been having strange dreams of late.  Vivid, elaborate dreams aren’t anything new for me but now I’ve been having dreams in which I am not a player.  Usually we feature prominently in our own dreams, nightmares, and even fantasies.  But in these dreams,  I’m watching other people in very “normal” settings (i.e. not at all the bizarro surrealistic stories that usually play out while asleep.)  Everything about them is pedestrian. They are short little scenes which feel quite real.  For example…

The other night, I saw an older married couple who had retreated to their weekend place in the country to spend their self-isolation.  They had not seen their adult daughter in a while and they missed her. They had all previously agreed that if she remained socially isolated for two weeks, she could come visit them in their house, which was a four-hour drive from where she lived.

It’s late at night, when she shows up.  She is not alone.  She is with her boyfriend (whom the parents have only met a couple of times) AND his parents.  The BF’s father gets out of the car first and knocks on the door.  The father opens up, expecting his daughter.  When he sees this unknown man, his first reaction is, “Who the hell are you?”   The man fully expects to be allowed right in,  but the father blocks his entrance, and remains safely behind the glass storm door.

The daughter gets out of the car with her BF and comes over to the door.  “Hi, Dad.  You remember [BF].  These are his parents.  I suggested they come along to get away from the city for a while.”

The father is shocked. Angry. Indignant.  “I’m not letting these people in here. I don’t know them.  We agreed that only you would come visit.  We never discussed anyone else.  Why did you invite other people?”

“Well, they’ve also been self-isolating for two weeks, just like me. They’ve been taking precautions.  None of us are sick.  I thought it would be nice for you all to get to know each other, and for them to get out of their apartment; get some fresh air.”

The father is dumbstruck. He cannot believe his daughter has that much chutzpah.

“Are you out of your mind?  We have been up here, alone, for almost two months, and you want us to throw that all away for people we don’t know?  For all you or they know, they could be asymptomatic carriers.”

Meanwhile, the BF’s father is getting antsy because he has to use the bathroom (hence his mad rush to the door.)  He asks to come in, just to use the toilet.

“Absolutely not!” says the father. “Go pee in the woods over there.”    He tells them all to get back in the car and leave.

“But we’ve driven four hours to get here, and now you want us to drive back another four hours?  Let us just stay the night and we’ll leave in the morning.”

“Forget it!   Not only will I not let THEM come in, but I don’t want you here either.  You’ve been sitting in a closed car with them. For all I know, you’ve been infected.”

This argument goes back and forth for a bit.  The daughter and the father are both angry at each other.  (I’m mentally siding with the father, but I understand why the daughter is upset, too.  She wants to protect her BF and his parents from the rampant infections in the city. Her parents have a nice big house, far from everyone.  Why shouldn’t they share it with others?)

In the end, the father sends them away.  The mother, who  has been watching from several feet back,  is upset at having alienated the daughter.  Had she answered the door instead of her husband,  she would have given in to the daughter’s guilt trip.  But she also understands her husband’s position.

—end—

The whole thing felt very real which makes me ask myself,  was it just an odd kind of dream or did I astrally project and actually witness this scenario among living people?   What do you think?

 

Buy the book!

If you are enjoying this blog, please click the link above to subscribe and receive posts via email (new posts every three days). When you think of others who might enjoy it too, it’s easy enough to help spread the word! Post your favorite stories to social media. Email a particularly apt link to a friend. Even better, talk about the concepts with others (whether you agree or disagree. )
Also, I have just started a discussion group on Facebook, for conversations about any of the concepts/issues in the posts. Honestly, these are things in here which I don’t fully understand myself. I would love get your thoughts on this…even if you think this is all a bunch of hooey!
-Adrienne

The Stain

first published May 25, 2014

Sen

Sometimes you see something so horrific, it eats at you for several lifetimes. It changes your essence in a fundamental way. Ultimately this takes you to a higher level, where you are more compassionate, but it is still a scar on the infinite soul.

Of course, we must not hide ourselves from the truth, but it is nevertheless deeply disturbing to see, even from a distance, that humans can be so brutal.   It doesn’t matter if you’re the victim, the aggressor or merely a witness. The stain is the same.

****

me:

I wonder again,  are these ghosts, spirits talking to me? Or are these stories just thoughts and emotions bubbling up from my own psyche? Can it be proven either way?  If it could be proven that these narrators are just manifestations of my own unconscious mind,  might it not also be possible that such thoughts were placed in my unconscious by energies beyond myself?  Or,  even more trippy,  that the energy inside myself is one and the same as the energy outside myself?

I might be delusional or I might be incredibly spiritually receptive.  Like Schrodinger’s cat, these possibilities exist at once.

Is there a difference,  generally speaking, between a prophet and a lunatic?   Perhaps there isn’t one.  Or perhaps only a porous wall separates them.  Or maybe the truth is in eye of the beholder.

A skeptic might hold up Jim Jones as an example of a lunatic masquerading as a prophet.  A believer, on the other hand,  might argue that drinking the Kool-Aid and dying en masse was the spiritual destiny of those people; that the value of the lessons they learned along that path only became apparent on the other side.   In that case,  Jones was, indeed, their prophet.

I don’t expect I will ever know the answers to these questions.  I just find them interesting to ask.

—-

Buy the book!

If you are enjoying this blog,  please click the link above to subscribe and receive posts via email (new posts every three days).  When you think of others who might enjoy it too,  it’s easy enough to help spread the word! Post your favorite stories to social media.   Email a particularly apt link to a friend.   Even better,  talk about the concepts with others (whether you agree or disagree. )
Also,  I have just started a discussion group on Facebook,  for conversations about any of the concepts/issues in the posts.  Honestly, these are things in here which I don’t fully understand myself.  I would love  get your thoughts on this…even if you think this is all a bunch of hooey!
-Adrienne

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