I find that, as I’m growing down, I’m going into transitional phases where things change and I have to review and revise what I can do and can’t do, and all sorts of other things in between. This get tricky when the abilities I’m losing are a deep part of my identity.
So, as a writer and communicator I’ve spent bazillions of hours, days and weeks banging away on typewriter and computer keyboards. But my fingers are losing their accuracy, and I can’t do it like I used to be able to.
It’s called peripheral neuropathy in medical speak – loss of feeling and coordination in the fingers and feet. It’s a funny sensation of non-feeling where feeling ought to be, a bit like music that’s turned down too low.
I’m getting an impression my blogs are too long for some readers – they’re a 15-minute read – and they tend to stretch synapses quite a bit.
So I think I’m going to do more podcasts. Or, in some cases, both.
Here’s my last blog, about pain, as a podcast, and you can find it on Spotify, Google and Apple Podcasts, such as here:
This and the pics below were taken in Bethlehem, Palestine, in Dec 2012
I was talking to a friend about our different illnesses and she said, “You must be suffering more than I”. This made me think, because suffering cannot be quantified and I can’t really say ‘I am suffering more than you’. Or at least, if I do, I’m making judgements about that person and about me that don’t really hold up. With pain, it’s really difficult being objective – it all hangs around our capacity to accept, tolerate and handle it.
Pain is partially to do with what is happening and partially to do with how we’re perceiving and experiencing it. I knew this before cancer came my way, but I’ve found since then that it is more true than I thought. I don’t instantly reach for the painkillers – avoidance of pain charges its price too. I use them only when I’m worn down, needing a break, to stop myself going into a self-fulfilling pain loop.
It’s not easy. But we do make things more difficult than they need to be. We create more friction inside ourselves than we need to have. We take difficulty and pain as negative experiences, something bad, something wrong – often according to beliefs and predispositions that aren’t very good for us.
Yet pain isn’t wrong – there’s something strangely right about it, if we can but change our perspective and suspend judgement enough to see how this might be so. Too often we compare our pain with how we feel things ought to be, how they used to be or how they could be, and this has a way of increasing the pain. Because it turns us away from facing it.
It comes down to attitude. Attitude might or might not change our circumstances or their causes, but certainly it can change how we experience and handle it all.
I’ve learned a lot from people in conflict zones, especially Palestinians, who have developed such attitude over the generations, in both the personal and the social spheres. They’ve got tragically used to dealing with hardship and they’ve developed ways and means of surviving in situations where levels of hardship and suffering are high – such as sharing what they have and looking after each other. They aren’t angels and they make mistakes, but they’re better than we at protecting and helping each other, and making the best out of a bad set of circumstances.
Many people in the comfortable countries can get really upset over issues that are relatively small, such as a power blackout, a shortage, a traffic jam, or someone not doing what they said they would do. Tolerance levels are low, tight and sharp-edged. We have an unhelpful sense of entitlement to a problem-free life. So when the shit hits the fan we catastrophise it, mishandling it and often creating more problems than were needed.
In all of life’s situations there is a degree of choice, either to make a big deal over something or to square with it, accept it and do the best we can. The choice lies around the friction we put up. It’s an honesty process, and with pain we’re forced to face stuff we don’t like facing.
Spiritually, a key issue is this: we come to Earth to learn, get experience, go through it, learn from it and hone the soul. Because at the end of life, all you take with you is what you have become as a result of having lived a life. Pain is an intense kind of experience that has a way of grinding at us, drilling holes in us, attempting a takeover of our psyche and giving us a truth-and-reality experience.
It’s the price we pay for the pleasure of being in a body and the experiential access that it gives us to the wonders of the world. Without a body we cannot stuff chocolate, have orgasms, go on holiday or bliss out in a field of bluebells. Pleasure and pain, whether emotional or physical, are two ends of the same experiential spectrum, and you don’t get one without the other.
I had a remarkable experience six years ago when first stricken with cancer – a blood cancer called Multiple Myeloma, which erodes the bones and creates all sorts of trouble and pain. Since then I’ve had treatment, though there is no remission from Myeloma, and am now on a maintenance regime of medication, supplements and working on myself. I’m surprised to be alive, actually, though clearly there are reasons to be here.
The cancer came on quickly over a few months and I deteriorated rapidly. At times I was in extreme, 150% pain, immobilised, helpless, rendered into a wreck of a man, at death’s door. One day the pain was so intense that I couldn’t even raise my head from the pillow to drink – moving a millimetre made my bones grind and grate. But I had to drink anyway and tried moving.
The pain was so overwhelming that something in me popped out of my body and I saw myself from above – as a soul having an experience on Earth, lying there, all crippled and useless. There was something strangely comical about this. Something in me could see the poignant humour in it – here I was, suffering, more than I had ever experienced, and it was bizarre. I started chuckling. It really hurt to laugh. My then partner, looking on, thought I was losing my marbles.
The funny thing was that my experience of pain suddenly changed. It seemed to become more distant. I became more at peace with it. I was able to face it and accept it, from more of a distance – it was simply a fact, a situation. Something profound had shifted in the space of several minutes.
Over the next few weeks it decreased further and within a couple of months my pain levels were around 30%. Also, my boundaries had shifted. Previously, I could handle 20% pain without it getting to me too much, but afterwards I could handle 40-50% – my pain threshold had moved and it has stayed there since.
Over the last six years I’ve hovered around 10%, with a permanent, steady and stiff ache. I hardly notice it, having become used to it. Most of the time I accept it – except perhaps in the late afternoon when Sir Isaac Newton seems to switch up the Law of Gravity. But there are times when I do notice the pain and it gets to me, deep down – especially in winter. Usually these are times when my spirits are low and I’m feeling worn out with life.
So there’s something here about being spirit-propped. The pain, disability and precarity of a cancer patient have somehow thinned the membrane between me and spirit – a membrane that I used to try so hard to cross, while now it comes more naturally. There’s something to this about the perspective of experiencing life as a soul in a body, visiting Earth.
Pain hits us all, in all sorts of ways and degrees, and at various times. It can go deep, and we each have our crosses to bear.
For example, throughout my adult life I’ve experienced ‘political pain’ – the pain of being misunderstood and misjudged in public, and paying a high price for it (as a dissident and an Aspie-Autistic). It has impacted me immensely. It’s the pain of being wronged in the social and political sphere – sometimes by evolving facts and sometimes by the wrongdoings and micro-harms of others, or by the madnesses of crowds. Even so, this pain forced me to come to terms with the reality of it, to understand what was going on underneath and to forgive the people involved, and to understand and forgive myself too – and in late life, forgiveness has been a gift to the soul and a lightening of a burden.
The world’s pain levels are escalating in the 2020s, partially because so many souls are alive today having a human experience, and partially because life is getting tougher for everyone, everywhere. Outrageously tough situations such as we have seen recently in Gaza are just the tip of a very big iceberg.
And here’s the rub: no one is exempt. Hence, a generous and charitable attitude toward others in need is wise since the tables can turn. We might one day be glad to receive others’ help.
It’s our choice as to whether or not the future is going to bring hard times. We can make a big deal about things ‘going wrong’, or we can accept things and get on with it. In the end, many problems are not as big as we think they are. What might to one person be a disastrous crisis, to another person is just another boring night of bombing.
We create sufferings simply by complaining, being angry, feeling hurt, self-victimisation, or by doing things which are not the wisest. So the level of actual hardship and difficulty we face is a different matter to the way we handle it, and in the latter lies our choice.
Even so, for some on our planet, life is really hard and, in the short term, they don’t have many options – if, that is, they survive. This is not ‘their karma’: this is the world’s collective karma spilling over onto them.
One of the things I’ve noticed in my peacemaking work is that many of the peoples most beset by longterm war – Bosnia, Ireland, Afghanistan, Vietnam, Lebanon, Sudan, Palestine – can be the nicest people around, and it does not seem fair that such ‘karma’ should fall on them. The people most affected by climate change are mostly not the ones who created it, and the world’s poor are losers in a system steered by others. But even they are faced with occasions when choice becomes available.
If we follow a deeper path through life, over time it changes our emotional responses, perspective and priorities. We don’t need to consume as much, we don’t need to ricochet through life, we don’t need to deny ourselves tender moments with loved ones, and we don’t need to create as much waste and damage as we do.
Because something changes inside. It’s a slowly-distilling sense of basic trust, a simple knowing that, somehow, things are going to work out. Especially if we allow it. The issue isn’t about being perfect – it’s about learning from life’s lessons and making good outcomes out of difficult situations.
So this matter of hardship and suffering depends so much on where we’re looking from. While I have a blood cancer, I’m partially disabled and life is difficult, it doesn’t mean I’m sitting here suffering all the time. Though I must admit there are times when I do.
Sometimes, in down times my spirits seem lost in a fog of fatigue, but even then it’s a matter of being patient and letting it be. I can struggle against it, feeling as if I ought to be doing this or I wish I could do that, when in fact it’s okay to take it as it comes, to flop down in a dull state and let it be. I tend then to revive more easily next day. It’s just that I’ve have been given yet another cameo experience of being on planet Earth.
I was physically unable to post my previous blog, so it sits below this one, for your interest. But first, here’s the latest…
Tregeseal stone circle – a prehistoric time machine
My next Aha Class in Penzance, if I am able to do it, is all about time. On Earth we are locked into time of two kinds – ticktock time and ‘cosmo-time’ – and they interweave in ever-fascinating ways. Whether or not I can do the class is, I hope, mainly a matter of dates. A matter of time. Stay tuned.
I’ve been learning a new level of being with time, and facing the deep and simple Buddhist truth of impermanence. Everything that begins also ends. With no exceptions. The only constant is change. At times recently, sitting or lying in overwhelming pain, I’ve been tested on this. Because pain often feels like it will go on forever. Cosmo-time, subjective time, stretches out as if striving for permanence. Though it never quite gets there.
All things must pass. Not necessarily in ways we might prefer, but they do pass. The experience of life on Earth is about this. It takes time for things to happen, and for us to learn how to make them happen, and for us to digest the consequences. It’s a pilgrimage, and it’s the travelling thereof that matters most. Besides, in the end, we die anyway. Our empires crumble and, however much we seek to immortalise ourselves, we are forgotten. We disappear into the dustbin of time.
I knew this long ago. But life has a way of bring back old lessons and taking them a level deeper. I’ve been an astrologer for decades and I’m still learning about time. And at those times when coughing or crying sets off muscle spasms lasting minutes, I’m being tested on it – bigtime!
I am still not well – it’s mainly muscle spasms in my torso, that are painful and debilitating. It’s a by-product of cancer, a kind of neurological overreaction to weaknesses in my bones, though I seem to be doing quite well with the cancer itself and the new medication I’m on – according to my guardian haematologist angel at the hospital. But the spasms are a killer. It has been two weeks of at times extreme pain, with extra added opioid-induced haze and sluggishness.
I seem also to have fallen into an NHS black hole, trying and failing to get a muscle-relaxing drug I was given five years ago (they’ve lost the records, no one is taking charge, I’m being bounced back and forth too much and, after ten days, I’ve got nowhere). Since getting tense induces more muscle-spasms, I’ve had to drop it. All things shall pass.
I’m spending too much time on my own, and that’s difficult. Endless digital messaging, questions and advice are no substitute for human contact. I do understand how everyone is busy, I dislike being a burden and it’s not nice asking so many favours, so this presents a dilemma, and I’m chipping away at resolving it.
So I’ve been missing company. I appreciate offers to help, heal or do shopping, though it’s actually company that tops the needs list. I don’t need company all the time, but some of it. So if you have time, you’re welcome to hang out with Paldywan (though you might have to make the tea).
After nearly three years since she left, I still miss my former partner and her family – I’ve found that hard, and hopefully her life has improved without me. In our day, our friends, family and people we’ve bonded with over time are so widely spread. Salam, peace, to all of you with whom I have bonded, whether closely through time or in just a deep twenty-minute connection. Time and space separate us, though somewhere deep down we are together still.
Writing is physically difficult and one-fingered for me at present – I have to hold myself up with the other arm. It raises a question about how I shall continue with my blogs and podcasts as my abilities decline. One day I guess I’ll just go silent and, from then on, I might need someone to pass messages or upload soundfiles. But we’ll face that when we get there – my illness of the last fortnight has flagged this up.
I had a past-life memory that came up, possibly from several lives, of being a scribe, of writing things down for others. Pain squeezes interesting jewels of insight from our psyche when we yield to it.
This illness has also flagged up a need to get a support system better organised, so that it works well both for me and for those who choose to do supportive things. I’m really grateful to those of you who have helped. And life is a busy thing, squeezed inside a vice of time. I’ve been like that too – I do understand.
The recording of my last Aha class about Activism will be ready soon. Sorry, the production team is on a go-slow, haha. The next class is about time, conjunctures of time and the way ticktock and cosmo-time intersect and interact through such things as fullmoons, solstices and planetary line-ups – power points in time. I’ve written a book about it too (see below). The date will either be confirmed or changed before long.
The Sunday meditations continue, whether or not I announce them. I’ll return to writing reminders sometime but, until then, I shall still be there on Sundays, and you’re welcome to join when you can, wherever you are. Come and join us in the zone – it’s like plugging into a wormhole leading to the shining realm of the timeless.
Now it’s time to make breakfast. I was awake at 4.30 this morning, got up, made a drink (quite an operation), and propped myself up in bed to watch the dawn. After I’ve uploaded this I’ll go back to bed. Bed gets boring, but it’s what life is like at present – an exercise in horizontality.
I’m still alive. Made it through another long night. I’m still in pain, from muscle-spasms clamping my torso – it fluctuates and moves around my torso throughout the day – but while it was 90% pain a week ago it’s now 60-70%. Better, but still rather crippling at times. Though being muscle spasms driven by a deep underlying tension arising from the recent weakness of my bones, it’s a really good mindfulness exercise too. I have to monitor my mindset to provide no worry-hooks for the spasms to latch onto. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.
They gave me opioids to deal with it. I’m not happy on opioids – and I’m speaking as an aged hippy with good first-hand experience of drugs. They weigh down my psyche, drain willpower and fog my brainz – though they do deal with the pain. I wanted a muscle-relaxant that I was given five years ago but for some reason I’m getting no action on that. I’m being well treated by the doctors, but too many doctors and nurses are involved, all of them working from my NHS computer records while only one or two have actually met me.
This went wrong last week. A doctor who knows me would prescribe dosages at around 70% of normal strength. A meditating, vegetarian psychic non-muggle who’s wired up rather differently from ‘normal’ people, I don’t need sledgehammering with medications – my system and my ‘inner doctors’ process them pretty well, thank you.
So there I was, on my first day on opioids – it brought relief from the searing pain – and the recommended dose knocked me out. My temperature suddenly rose, I broke out in a sweat and suddenly felt faint. Next thing, I woke up on the floor. But I fell well, semiconsciously, because I was lying quite comfortably (as it goes) and I had no bruises or headache when I awoke. I lay there, weak and drugged. Eventually I managed to get vertical – quite an operation taking at least an hour – and later a friend dropped by and saved me.
I’ve been given notice. I must sort out my support system – it’s not really working. It’s too complex – I land up with lots of visitors quizzing me and looking worried, while only some are useful or know what to do. I need one person to ring when I have a crisis, on whom I can rely to fix something amongst the wider circle of helpers. At one point, one visitor simply held my hand, and that was so good – such a small act of humanity can be really touching at wobbly, pained moments like that. A few days later she came and cleaned my house – and that, to a Virgo, is a great relief. Shukran jazilan, Selina.
The doctors are being good with me – once I was escalated up the list, that is. And people are being good too, though they have no time and such busy lives or other issues to deal with, especially on the recent fullmoon. But something is not quite right – I’m on my own too much. Just as well I’m a good survivor, even if a seized-up cripple of a crock. Clearly, Allah doesn’t want to take me away quite yet, even though he had a good chance to do so – so that’s a reality-check worth having. But I’ve been given notice that something needs to change if I’m going to get through the next chapter in reasonable fettle.
Today I have my weekly mega-blast of cancer drugs, Lenalidomide, Ixazomib, Dexamethasone, Allopurinol, Apixaban and Aciclovir. Sounds exotic. I’m a bit concerned about taking a steroid (Dex) and opioids together, but I’ll play it by ear and tough it out. The accelerating deterioration I was going through has stopped – I can feel it – and the cancer drugs are gaining the upper hand. But the drugs have shocked my system – and that’s part of the cause of the muscle spasms.
We have dramatic thunderstorms here this morning. It’s quite energising to my poppy-suppressed old body and its shattered nervous system. Recently a young Gazan welcomed the thunderstorms they were having there because they drove the drones away and there was some peace. We must remember how lucky we are.
And whenever anyone asks me ‘How are you?‘ – like, fifteen times every day – my best answer is, “Well, I’m like this, really‘.
May spirit bless you and keep you, and cause its light to pervade you, and guide your way home.
For all of us, a time comes when it’s our turn to go home.
I thought this article was interesting, and am inclined this way myself. Current values in society tend to believe we should avoid and be free of pain and difficulty as much as possible, but this keeps us in the same place. It’s a growth-less position to take.
I was summarily dumped last year and, while it was really painful and I’m still left hanging and unresolved, it has been a remarkable gift and learning experience too, forcing me to master those things I felt I needed from my partner. It gets a bit complex when you have something like cancer and you rely on them, but even there, it’s possible to do your best with the situation as it is. So I became stronger as a result. It was a struggle, but also, seen from another viewpoint, it was a gift of love. It’s okay to let it bleed.
Some people have called me brave, for things I’ve done. But it’s not really like that. As this article mentions, you get to master life and its challenges by taking it on and going into it – the author uses the analogy of weight training and increasing the weights you lift. Former challenges become easier because you get used to bigger ones. And this is what hones the soul.
Once you’ve had a gun pointing at you, it gets easier when someone else points a gun at you again, and you realise you can get through the situation, even with a smile. That’s not really bravery – it’s just getting used to life and wading a bit deeper in. A bit like Brits’ attitudes toward British weather, or Yemenis’ or Ukrainians’ approach to life in their countries – and some people choose to go into the fray rather than to run. Or a bit like the work (‘labour’) a woman goes through to give birth – if you run from it, though that’s understandable, you might miss something, something about life itself.
In a sense, life is a preparation for the moment of our death. Death is not usually painful, but it does involve facing stuff – not least facing our incapacity to do anything much about the situation or to change anything, which is a choiceless choice to face. But even so, we have a choice to take what comes, or we can try fighting it.
Therein lies the choice. In the end, that’s where freedom resides. Because if you’ve grappled with something, you don’t have to carry the pain and fear of the prospect of having that something come at you and stop you in your tracks. That’s a kind of pain that comes even when you’re not experiencing it. It’s rooted in fear. A comfortable, safe life is not necessarily the best kind of life to have.
The author of the article provides a good strategy for dealing with the difficulties we face – about the incremental drawing of lines, and about facing the reason we’re in such a situation, rather than either letting it oppress us or running from it.
Recently I’ve been working on straightening up my back. When I went down (or even up) with bone marrow cancer, the four bottom vertebrae of my back collapsed, altering the architecture of my pelvis, legs and back. I lost bone mass and my back grew weaker to the extent that I’ve had to use sticks ever since to hold myself up. Since then I’ve had an unconscious tendency to stoop, which gets exaggerated in the later part of the day or when I’m tired or my energy is down. This gets interesting though – there’s more to this.
For me, taking on cancer involved taking on a burden and making it mine. Living became more difficult and dragging myself around is more of an effort than it used to be. I feel heavy even though I’ve always been slim, and now I’m bony. In a way, I’m quite a big presence, yet my body has been lean, and nowadays rather frail. I deal with that fragility with willpower, by resorting to ‘second strength’ – the strength that, as a runner or mountaineer, you get through to when you’ve broken through your initial tiredness. Mars in Scorpio – that’s me, and Uranus is doing an opposition to it.
This Saturnine burden-bearing thing has been a life-issue for me – somewhere between karma-yoga and self-punishment – so it’s fascinating that I get a cancer that concerns the blood (life-force and will-to-live) and bones (gravitation and carrying that weight). I’ve sometimes wondered whether I was an elephant in a past life.
Nowadays, when my spirits are flagging and I’m tired or feeling burdened, I tend to droop. So I’m retraining myself to stand straighter, reminding myself over and over to lift myself up. I’m being helped in this by a lovely man in St Just, Alan, who does his own version of Alexander Technique, and whose firm hands and ways of manipulating me give a satisfying feeling of being opened up, stretched, uplifted and balanced.
It has become really clear to me how much my current posture relates to my state of mind and spirits. When I’m up, I’m up, and when I’m down, I go down in posture. So I’m working on the centre of willpower in my solar plexus and also on the character of my thoughts – astrologically, Uranus is opposing my Mars in Scorpio, bringing up these kinds of issues.
Pendeen Watch from Bosigran Castle
When I was a mountaineer when young, I learned that cultivating uplifting thoughts has a levitational effect, getting you up that mountain much more easily and happily. But if you’re grinding your stuff, worrying about how far you still must go and indulging in tiredness, then it gets terribly difficult, longer, more painful, and your rucksack gets heavier.
The same applies to living with cancer. It’s a mountain to climb with only a few let-ups, a mountain with no summit till you finally give up and die – whereas, as a mountaineer, you can descend and have a hot bath afterwards. There can be longterm wear-and-tear and challenges to the spirit – it’s all about will-to-live. These challenges can be weighty – they have been so for me. But facing this stuff has sorted me out inside quite a lot.
As a mountaineer and cross-country runner I trained my will to stay focused and to hang in there by working with my mind. But when I got involved with ETs in my forties I started imbibing ideas they put forward and started connecting things together. The Nine had talked about a difficulty connected with the downward-pulling effect on consciousness of gravity and dense physicality, as we have them on Earth. This has a twofold effect: the direct effect of gravity itself, and the effect of accumulated human habits, beliefs and institutions, which tend to embed a deep, guilt- and fear-ridden, downward-pulling effect on society and human culture as a whole.
Our conditioned beliefs, fears, guilt and shame are means by which we allow ourselves to be controlled, giving power to those who would control us. We constrain the scope and depth of our awareness, fitting inside boxes, clipping wings, subscribing to channels of belief, conforming to perceived expectations, setting aside our deeper feelings and perceptions and generally losing the plot, losing perspective and losing ourselves. It’s a comfort-zone which, if everyone does it, makes everyone feel safe. Except we aren’t safe, since the basic premises of such a life-structure are unsustainable longterm, hollow. We’ve become addicted to quite sophisticated avoidance strategies.
I learned about this key gravitational issue from two sources: the Nine, who mentioned this as a key factor in bringing us to our current rather imperilled condition, and the Austrian scientist Viktor Schauberger, who proposed that the law of gravity and the law of levity are equal and opposite, and that their balancing and utilisation are a matter, in the end, of consciousness. In other words, uplifting thoughts are levitational, and depressive thoughts are gravitational. Think about it – but not too much!
It’s all to do with vibrational frequencies. Dense physical matter isn’t just stuff – it’s energy vibrating at wavelengths that make it appear physical. Gravity-levity occupy a range of frequencies, as do light, thought, emotion, subtle energy, different forms of consciousness and their moods and states. These interact with each other. When I’m walking on the cliffs and feeling inspired, my power increases and walking gets easier. In connection with the relative rebirth I’ve gone through this summer, I can stand upright without sticks for longer now than I could a year ago (five minutes instead of two) – so the levitational force is increasing in me. Though it still depends on my energy-state at the time. I can overcome tiredness by working with my state of mind and heart, if I’m on a long hike, or if it has been a long day, though I usually pay a price the next day. That’s a matter of pacing myself and energy-management – dipping out, resting my mind and degravitationalising my body.
When I experienced a lot of fatigue in 2020-21, by late afternoon I would lose energy and start drooping. My mind would start slowing and switching off, I’d lose my mind and my words, and my life-energy would dwindle rapidly. Sometimes this would happen in minutes, as if I was being taken over. Those are moments when I really value having someone around for a bit of support and TLC – it doesn’t happen much nowadays. But it’s okay if I can retreat to bed, take the weight off my back and drift off into a fatiguey kind of trance. If I can’t, I’m in trouble, unable to marshal myself and do what’s necessary, and needing to focus a lot of energy just on staying upright, taking one step at a time.
Porthmoina Cove
I feel more in sync with myself now, in October, and my life-energy has improved since spring. But one year ago I was going down, ill and struggling in a nightmarish in ner reality, sinking into the dark, and eventually to lose my partner – a disaster for me, and probably for her. It was a major Neptune transit to my Saturn. I lost my way and came close to losing my life. But I’m a survivor: my starting thought, when I’m lost in the dark, is to ask myself where the gift lies.
It was hard, that time, but it put me through the grinder and I emerged from the other side in springtime, blinking and rather surprised, surfacing with a new sense of mission – something to keep me alive. That’s important because, when you’re old and disabled, society shoves you to the side and forgets you unless you do something to bring yourself back in. And, regarding grinders, in order to be gifted with miracle solutions such as a rebirth after a crisis, it’s often necessary to make the downpayment first. The universe tests us, wanting to know whether we’re 100% behind it, because it’s only hundred-percentness that enables us to override the normal default rules of life and nature, bringing a higher level of rules, norms and magic into operation.
When I was ill, wondering whether I was leaving life, the threads in my life that remained incomplete came into sharp contrast. Something was coming clear that I could not lay them to rest. Paradoxically, the most immediately painful one, the loss of my ladylove, left me with a big, simmering, unresolved issue, and it had a strange way of keeping me alive! It was so bad that it activated the fightback in me. But the realisation that there was something more to do with life before I go – that was the clincher. I realised that, if I were up in heaven, I would regret not having done all I could to set in motion some serious work in the area of world-healing. This has been a major thread in my life since I was about sixteen. It’s an incomplete thread. Mission not accomplished.
Working on my posture has a direct relationship with – when it boils down to it – fulfilment and happiness. Not just because of the structural, bony corrections that might happen, raising my life-energy, but also because it’s all about developing the levitational power within – the power to rise up. In my observation, in my cancer process, the medical treatment has saved me and kept me alive (and I wouldn’t have lived had it not worked), but the healing I’ve received, from people, from HP Source and from my own inner processing, has created something of a rule-breaking miracle. I’m now more alive than otherwise I would be.
Gravity has a relationship with time too. Our capacity to deal with time is a key issue in consciousness. Time spreads out events along a perceptual, developmental continuum such that, on our densely physical, time-bound, spinning planet, life is a process of working with physicality and with life-experience in a very gradual and drawn-out way – at times frustrating, and often technically complex. My Tibetan teacher, the Karmapa, once taught that patience is applied timelessness. That is, all of our wishes are fulfilled in the fullness of time, and we really need to worry much less about how things happen and how to steer and control them. They will all come.
One of the Boscregan clifftop cairns. Sennen behind.
Getting old and being partially disabled, I’m losing my powers, and there’s quite a sense of loss to that. But then, from a time-released perspective, throughout life I’ve had my powers and all sorts of experiences with them, and that was good, and now life is about something else. Other powers have become available that I didn’t once have. I’m doing better on the wisdom, acceptance, insight, inner journeying and gratefulness-for-being-alive fronts, and my writing and podcasting have improved. My vibe and inner archetype have changed.
I’ve lost many ‘executive’ functions in my brains and cannot multi-task or do rapid-fire attention switches or complex situations any more, but something on the other, imaginal, intuitive, creative side has actually improved. So there’s a gift in everything, and we can focus on what we’ve lost or don’t have, or we can give attention to what we’re gaining and what’s available. That’s our choice.
When you come close to the end, you’ve had your time. It was given, you had it and you did it, and what you did and didn’t do with it were, in the end, your choice. It goes through stages and it eventually comes to an end. That’s life. Hopefully, in the course of life, you can go through most or all of those stages – and pity those who get cut short, culled before their time, mown down by a karmic wave that is larger than their own personal one.
To live in this kind of physical existence, we needed to live on a time-bound planet defined by its rotational and orbital patterns, because a planet like this produces multiple evolutionary circumstances in which enormous experiential diversity can grow. It has local environments, seasons and climatic patterns that stimulate beings like us, prompting us to explore and extend ourselves. We weren’t meant to destroy this world in the process, however.
But physicality means that we enter into close relationship with things and circumstances that get born, live and die, and it happens to us too. The big mistake is the belief that this kind of physical, perpetually-changing existence is the only one that is real. Even though, in our sleep and altered states, we go into completely different worlds and existences on a regular basis.
So it’s our constrained awareness that binds us to ticktock time. But there’s another kind of time too – evolutionary time – and it has little relation to ticktock time. In evolutionary time, you can make ten years’ progress in twenty minutes, in an intense growth situation. If you block your growth through fear, then you lock yourself into ticktock time and you ‘serve time’ – some people do it for the whole of their lives. The more we invest in working on ourselves, allowing the magic of life to work through us, trusting in our spirit and serving humanity, the more that our relationship with time changes – since time doesn’t constrain energies that come from beyond time and beyond self. You’re capable of being old when young and young when old. You don’t worry so much. You realise there’s more to life than paying bills and doing your perceived duty. The laws of life start changing, and things start happening which, in that time-bound world and the groupthink that goes with it, were deemed improbable or impossible.
Light, energy, thought, gravity, consciousness – they are connected, all of them operating in a range of frequencies. What I’ve been finding is that, as my body and my life-possibilities become more limited, I’m learning more about the intimate relationship of all of them. It’s directly connected with my backache, mood, happiness and choices at any moment. Giving them all attention is helping my healing process. This, for me, doesn’t mean ‘getting better’, since I won’t, but it does mean being in a better state than otherwise. Being happier about the life I have. The funny thing is that, with this kind of acceptance, I’ve been getting marginally better!
Notes from the Far Beyond 
You must be logged in to post a comment.