The fact is I feel bad when I’m not exercising these powers fully and tapping into the ever-present universal mind. The power of seers and mystics belongs to all of us. But this work does not come easily, especially if you want to keep your day job. You have to have patience. You have to be able to quiet the tick-tock of your cerebral clockwork long enough to see the world of forms for what it is. Remembering that the solidity of this world is an illusion created by rapidly oscillating atoms is a full-time job.
Meta-normal functioning requires time, and practice. Before I became convinced of my own latent siddhi-like powers I would wake to a day of professional responsibilities, family, social and societal commitments. Now in addition to all this, I have this invisible world to deal with, the impact of my thoughts and the protection of my psychic environment.
My day begins by waking up slowly. This way I can more accurately remember and record dream state messages being sent though the wisdom of the Universal Mind and conveyed to me though my subconscious. To leap out of bed would be to rattle these images and leave them dissembled fragments with their messages of caution and opportunity forever buried in the inaccessible reaches of my psyche.
A subtle stress begins to build at even this early hour because I am now ever so slightly just a little late. But I don’t want to rush. I record what I can remember in my dream journal. I take three deep breaths to cleanse my lungs – the adjusted chemistry and CO2 levels signal my brain that I’m ready to begin the day. Sort of. First I have to cleanse my mind of the muddle it wakes up to immediately following the dream state. This muddle involves a jumbled list of things to do. I assume the sacred position and breathe deeply.
The first five minutes of this morning meditation are spent letting all thoughts run rampant. I then herd them into appropriate bins, clearing the field for some additional simple breathing, trying as well to catch a glimpse of the thinker behind the thoughts. But there is little time for this. I have to re-program my mind from its hypnotically induced ego dominant state, banish evil thoughts and check in with my various chakras, one at a time.
Then, still sitting, I need to visualize my day based on my newly sorted to-do list. Maintaining the seated position I observe myself going to work, not being upset about the traffic and turning left with ease at La Cienega. I see the presentation I have that afternoon unfold successfully. I see something especially nice about dinner.
Now, still seated, back straight and breathing deeply, stealing a quick look at my watch to make sure I’m still within the parameters of my time budget (so I don’t feel rushed) and I run though any lessons I can remember from A Course in Miracles. “God speaks to me throughout the day” is one of my favorites. I repeat this to myself for three or four minutes, and then if I still have time, try to squeeze in a few affirmations concerning my loved ones, throwing light here and there from Venice Beach to Portland, Oregon. I take six deep breaths and try over the course of three minutes to access an alpha state from which I now send light to the homeless, the war ravaged in Iraq and my mother in a nursing home. Then to cover all my bases I throw a little light on my clients and occasionally on my nemesis of the week.
Before leaving the house I take at least a half a dozen herbs, many of them detoxifying. In the car, rather than pollute myself with bad news, evil doings abroad or Ann Coulter, I sit in traffic in silence for as long as I can, taking note of all things red. I do this as a kind of mind training exercise to help me focus. It is not unusual for me, in such a focused state, to on occasion actually go through a red light. But overall, I know I am lubricating my dendrites and cultivating the extraordinary capacity of the human mind.
Throughout the day I take short breaks – “Spiritual Booster” shots – if you will. I walk around the block noting palm fronds and daffodils as I cleanse my body etherically while I align with and honor my nature-self, careful to project positive energy into all forms, even animals, whose atoms may be oscillating at a slower rate than mine.
As I lay down to sleep I quiet my mind, and then in that quiet state, as I slip from a world dominated by time, I acknowledge and send energy to every part of my body. I know, too, that this heightened state of calm is the best time in which to correspond with my body at a cellular level. I visualize the frayed meniscus in my knee joint. I see the glucosamine chondroitin which I took that morning begin to erect little cartilage barriers over my bruised and Aikido-battered knee joint.
But this reconstruction effort doesn’t last long. I fall asleep right away.
It’s no wonder. I’m exhausted.
Bob Belinoff is a documentary filmmaker and public health consultant. Reach him at bob@digitalworkshop.com.
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