All posts by Oren

The Golden Crane

This story was written in 1990, preserved by my godmother to whom I gave it as a gift. A greater gift is to get it back 20 years later!!!. Thank you Caroline!!!!

The Golden Crane

As the bell rang its call of freedom, hallways were suddenly filled with the sounds of bustling kids finally on their way home. One particular group of boys walked especially slow in the passing herd, just waiting for someone to make a wrong move and say something to them.

Gathering his books and saying good-bye’s, Jimmy shouldered his backpack, started out the classroom door and paused, gazing beyond. Off in the distance, a deep orange sun was just creeping above the hilltops, filtering life into the sky. Overhead, a magnificent crane soared in the heavens, his great blue wing-tips expanding and rising in the wind. Freedom sparkles danced in the infinite sky growing larger and expanding until there was only shimmering golden-yellow that filled him inside and out.

Soon, a pale white hue formed the shapes of lockers and passing figures against the endless ocean of gold pounding to the beat of his heart. Jimmy looked around, and stepped through the door into the hallway outside. Passing many classrooms and faces, he wandered on his way home. Looking up in the trees and watching the leaves make patterns against the blue up above, Jimmy noticed a menacing pair of eyes gazing at him in the distance up ahead.

Suddenly, adrenaline raced through his body and his heart began pounding wildly in his chest as Jimmy cautiously continued on. By the time he could make out the figures, Jimmy was breathing heavily; the hair rose on the back of his neck and he slowed down, muscles tensed, just a few steps before reaching them.

Three figures leaning against the wall looked at him as if taunting him to come closer, eyes boring through him as Jimmy approached their corner.

The two guys on the end were about the same size and they both had a wicked smirk on their face; the guy in the middle was the biggest, looking down at Jimmy with crossed eyebrows.

The streets were silent; there was no one else around.

Jimmy felt a fear well-up in his chest that he had never known before and his stomach turned as he looked around, confirming his solitude.

“You got a problem!!” One of them suddenly shouted, boldly cocking his head and making a face. Jimmy stopped in his tracks.

“Where do you think you’re going!!” Another taunted. Looking off into space, heart pounding out of his chest, Jimmy declared fatal silence.

“What do you think you’re doing!!” The biggest one said, angrier now than ever. “I’m , Jimmy managed to say, but nothing else would come out. “What are you gonna do?!” He said, yelling now.

Suddenly, the figures before him started to fade away and Jimmy thought he was going to pass out in fear. Waiting to drop, he looked around and Jimmy thought he saw a golden tint surround the trees and fill the sky; fear dropped away from his side. An unfamiliar power welled up within, filling Jimmy with an inner strength, expanding outside and around his body. Although his eyes were open, Jimmy was blinded by a golden light.

“I’m—…”, Jimmy startled himself. The words came out clear and powerful in golden flow, weaved with the blue of a crane in flight. Peace filled his heart with tingles as he spoke.

“I’m not going to fight you.”

Just then a school police car skidded to a halt on their corner and the three guys were gone in a blur of madness. The big guy lost a shred of his jeans jumping over a fence as they disappeared into the city.

Jimmy stood motionless, staring into the sky as the police car drove away. Way up high, he could barely make out the blue wing-tips of a crane in flight as Jimmy took a deep breath, and continued his journey home.

Naked Compassion

Why am I writing Bible Stories?  Like any good Jew, I answer a question with a question!

Have you ever had a dream where you were naked?

For myself, those dreams were usually in the context of school.  I was participating in class, then I happen to look down and BAM! I suddenly realize that I forgot to get dressed!  I’m sure everyone has had at least one dream like this in their life.  I could never really understand this type of dream.  The idea of forgetting always seemed to be at the forefront, and I would wake up with thoughts like, “How could I forget to do something so simple as get dressed?”  Yet forgetting didn’t completely make sense because usually it is only when one looks at themselves they realize they were naked.  Any reaction by the people in the dream, if at all, comes after the fact of realizing.

In mid-August of 2010, I experienced the first of several kundalini openings in my spine.  These openings in the core of my being have continued almost like clockwork, every two months since, always occurring in the middle part of every alternating month.  The first opening came from the sacrum, moving into the heart.  The next came from the heart, moving through the neck, approaching the crown, and so on.

There are many ways to try and describe what is happening, they are mostly metaphorical.  The experience is that my soul is much more tightly integrated with my body.  The most dramatic, literally, affect of this change has been a radical connecting of my voice and my true self.  Put simply, I found my voice and whatsoever is true and sincere of me comes out – for good or for ill.

Luke 12 contains the following portion:

“There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What you have whispered … will be proclaimed from the rooftops.”

What if your soul came through your own voice and you had no ability to “turn it off” anymore?  These expressions are like a double-edged sword: on one hand celebratory and inspirational integrating that of the soul into everyday living.  One the other hand, they reveal that which is of weakness and of shadow within me all the more readily.   In other words, in an emotional and spiritual sense my nakedness was somehow made permanent: I can’t help but be who I am and have no desire to “clothe” it in any other way.

One of the epistles states:

Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”- 2 Corinthians 12:9,10

I’ve never really been a lover of the Bible.  Like most people, I mostly despised the hypocrisies contained therein and the high-and-mighty way that people use the Bible to put each other down at best and commit genocide at worst. True to the way of the scribe, I can’t help but rewrite the above passage in way that is true of me:

Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so the power of the soul may live through me.  As a living soul I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. The warm winds of rebuke feel like food to my soul.  The hot fire of failure fuels the light of my soul.  For when I fail, then I am strong in spirit and walk through its open door to redemption. Therefore I sing the song of my soul without fear, that when my mouth closeth I finally know complete rest in the the kind of silence that is one with the Father within.

If this isn’t radical nakedness, I don’t know what is.  In choosing this way of life described above, both the incredible love of who I am and the shadows I carry are perhaps equally proclaimed by the rooftops of my own expressions. In the story of Adam and Eve, the dynamic duo are depicted as happily naked in their original state, and only “clothed themselves” after being influenced by however way one would interpret the fall of man.

Nakedness.  I have finally found a metaphor that I can connect 100% with my life.  Amazingly, this metaphor is also in the Bible.

Radical Self-Disclosure.  Hmm… perhaps this is a step towards Christ-consciousness. It certainly forces one to grow faster!!!  If I can’t hide my nakedness anymore, if my heart is constantly being shouted from the rooftops of my own voice – I’d better just busy accepting it and doing the work required to make that which can no longer be hidden become functionally integrated just as well!  Amazingly, this metaphor is also in the Bible.

Acceptance.  Acceptance and loving myself for who I am.  What a gift that is!!  The greatest gift of shouting what’s hidden in the heart continuously is the gift of, perhaps for the first time, finding love for all that is good and all that is bad within oneself.

In the process of being unable to not speak my own heart, radical honesty is thus elicited from others as well – and just like my own it is not always kind.  One of the most challenging accusations that have come back is that I must have some kind of messianic complex to be speaking, acting and writing the way I do.  I’m continually reflecting on this accusation, and the fruits of those reflections in part are the reason for writing this story.

Each morning beckons like the rising sun, accepting myself as I am & finding greater ability to express love more deeply and fully.  Perhaps in accepting myself more fully, it is only natural to more fully accept and love other people as well. Sometimes I feel so hopelessly in love with everyone I see, I can’t help but smile like an idiot!!  I call this my “friendly face meditation.”  But what happens when my ability to love others exceeds their ability to love themselves?

What is a messiah?  What if the one who was known as Yeshua simply was just an incredibly loving, truthful man and no one could really handle it?  If this was true then it would make sense that half the people who couldn’t handle it wanted to worship him and the other half wanted to destroy and silence him.  What if all Yeshua wanted was for people to love themselves they way he loved himself and others?  What if those healed by faith were those few lucky ones simply able to find naked compassion for themselves?

What if the story of the Bible is simply a story of awakening available to anyone?  What if the Bible were simply a celebration of what it means to be a human being?  What if worshiping anyone or anything were simply an obstacle to getting on with the business of becoming divine?    What if those moments of shadow were simply a forgetting to love myself and others?  Such a love simply needs to be given first place above all that seeking to be born out of the abundance of my heart!  If those are both true, then naked compassion for oneself and others could never be evidence of forgetfulness, but rather evidence of remembrance.

What if?  What if? These kinds of questions, combined with my experiences in dreams metaphorically applied to my living, have resulted in this quest which I have named “The Book of Redemption.” Questions are so amazing!

If knowing that you do you not know is the beginning of wisdom, then questions are like an open door to a new world.  The Quest is contained in the question. The question is a journey for which destinations are only temporary. Its complete answer can never arrive, but only deepen in unfolding like another signpost on the way.

This is the essential antidote to any doubts.  Questions are “anti-doubts” because when one asks anything with a sincere and open heart, the door is opened and the answer comes not by grasping some kind of answer, pulling it from the other side,  but by walking through the door yourself!

Good questions are the doors to eternity!!!  Can a “good priest,” a “good Rabbi, a “good Jew,” “good Christian,” “good Muslim,” “good American,” “good man or woman” or a “good consultant” ever celebrate the fruits of not-knowing?  Certainly any “good Messiah” wouldn’t be entitled!! In what context can good questions really be celebrated for what they are?

Related to the Bible, I believe there is no document more grossly misused or misunderstood.  What a perfect source of spiritual nutrition to exercise the art of good questions!!!  This story is the fruit born from walking through one such door after another.

To the question of messianic complex, I answer with a prayer:  “May all who dare to live fully in love be neither worshiped nor destroyed.”

To you I extend an invitation through an open door.  I invite you, not into an answer, but into a journey – the journey of good questions. The answers will never come to you.  You must yourself go through the door and see what you have become.

Part 1: Love

Chapter 1 

“I wish I could show you, when you are lonely or in darkness, the astonishing light of your own being.” ~Hafiz

“I’m hungry,”  Was his first thought.  The grass tickled his neck, pestering him out of sleep each time he tried dozing off.  He lay with his back to the earth, facing the wide expanse of southern California sky, which had just started to dim into the pink and purple hues marred by grey smog, that beckoned of the coming of night.

It was still hot, but a stirring of breeze that marked the beginning the yearly return of the San Andreas winds made it very comfortable to be outside in the backyard.  Images of his afternoon came rushing back:  His forehead still pulsed from a triangular tearing of rooftop shingle that struck during the “ninja star” fight between camps of the house-tribe and the garage-tribe.

The broad green leathery leaves of the magnolia tree popped next in his head.  His favorite part about having a tree-house was staring at the glare the Sun made on those leathery leaves, and now it was nearly the end of Summer, the largest flower buds he’d ever seen were emerging alongside, like the stem of a sword growing from its helm.

Oren’s heart melted.  He loved being in his tree house most of all.  He wondered if the little green bugs with luminescent wings were going to be up near the tree house soon since it was almost evening.  But now he was resting in the grass, with a swollen forehead, and he was hungry.  Where had all his friends gone to play next?

A giggle bubbled up as another image popped in his head:  Dod Rehavia was in town visiting from Greece, they were kicking a soccer ball around this morning and Rehavia suddenly stopped, his bare foot covered in dog poop.  The game was over, and he had to keep himself from laughing as his uncle hobbled on one foot and one heel to go wash himself off in the hose.


What about Safta Sara?  Food easy for a 6-year-old to assemble wasn’t always accessible in the house where Oren lived, but he knew that his kind elderly neighbor would always have a snack for him.  She must have had an endless supply of bananas, vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup and rainbow sprinkles, because whenever he showed up it was suddenly time for a banana split.

The boy sat up in the grass, slightly disoriented.  Sara’s house was just a short walk away, out the front door, across the lawn to the house immediately to the left of his.  He opened the screen and knocked on the door.  He usually didn’t have to ring the door bell.    As promised, the door opened and there stood Safta Sara.  She was like an adopted grandma.  “Oh, Hi!” She said, “Come in!”

Sara wasn’t much taller than the 6-year-old boy standing expectantly at her doorstep.  Her wrinkled face was weather-burned and olive-colored, but she was upright, spritely and always kind.  “Are you hungry?  Do you want a banana split?”

Oren nodded silently, his eyes wide, voice daring not to say anything.  “Ok,” she said casually and moved towards the kitchen from the living room, “How’s school? What grade are you in now?”  “I finished first grade!” Oren said, “But it’s still Summer vacation.  Abba has us do second grade workbooks to get ready before school starts.”

The prize was suddenly sitting before him, in an ovular bowl.  The first, cool, creamy bite delighted his synapses and slid quickly down his throat.  Relief.  Something sweet and yummy in the tummy.

As Oren continued to eat, Sara enjoyed conversation.  “Is there anyone at school that you really like?  A girl, perhaps?”  Oren shook his head.  “I don’t know what that means.”  “Oh,” Safta Sara said kindly, “You don’t know what liking somebody means?  Well, is there anyone at school who when you see them you feel a little differently inside, like it feels good to look at them?”

Oren was suddenly there.  At school, on the large cement play yard, benches marking the square perimeters of a host of evenly spaced trees, which dwarfed the buildings of Erwin Street Elementary school.  Then she appeared:  blonde pony tail, quiet and walking slowly in triangular formation with two other girls who were like silhouettes to her brilliance.  He knew from class that her name was India.  What a cool name!  Soon after, to his delight he discovered that India lived on the other side of the railroad tracks from him.  Every time he played there, he would climb the hill to her fence and wait.  He could actually see her sometimes playing in her forest-like backyard.  But all he knew about her was that she was quiet, that she loved horses and that she lived nearby.  They never talked, probably not even once.

Oren’s heart sank, Sara’s kind face was still looking at him and noticed him shaking his head.  “No, you never felt that way?”  The 6-year-old boy shook his head again, his heart beating fast.  Like the moment when Sara asked if would like some ice cream, he dared not speak for fear of giving away the pitiful truth.

Sara studied his face lovingly.  “Do you have any friends at school yet?”  Oren shook his head again, a huge knot started to build in the child’s belly, and then he finally blurted out: “We’re different! Everything about us is different!  Our language is different!  Our holidays are different!  Why do we have to be different?”

Sara took a deep breath.  “I saw you playing with some boys earlier.”  The boy shook his head, “They only like to play war.”  The mark on his forehead suddenly started pulsing again, branded by the flying projectile sent from the enemy camp on the garage roof.

There was long pause.  The banana split was nearly gone, and the boy suddenly felt like maybe he had done something wrong.

“We are different.” Sara said matter of factly, finally breaking the silence.  “I don’t want to be different!”  “We are different,” Sara continued, “Even our calendar is different.  Do you know what day it is today?”  “It is Friday,” said the boy, sounding like more of a question than an answer. “Yes, and tonight starts Shabbat.  Will you have Shabbat dinner at home?”  The boy nodded.

“We are different.  A new day starts at night, not in the morning like for most people.  We do have different holidays that your friends don’t understand.  Do you know why?”  The boy shook his head again.

“Let me tell you a story.  Come back and have banana splits whenever you want, we’ll talk and I’ll tell you stories, okay?”  The boy was too transfixed in his feelings to understand.  He was falling.  What was this feeling?  “Relief,” came a silent answer, although he had no idea from where or what it really meant.

“So, why does a new day start at night for us, Safta Sara?  Does it mean we’re from the devil?”  The boy’s heart was completely open, completely trusting, unafraid to speak what he was really feeling anymore.

The kind old lady’s eyes narrowed, holding his heart with all her might.  “When everything is dark and all seems lost, it is only the start of something new.  It is too easy to call the morning Sun new – God is doing all the work!  When everything seems darkest, you find the light inside of you and only then can a new day begin.”

Another long pause.  It seemed a timeless eternity.  “Are you ready?” Came Safta Sara’s voice, which seemed more faint and from a distance.  The boy managed to stammer a nod.

Chapter 2

“Find the love you seek, by first finding the love within yourself. Learn to rest in that place, your true home within.” ~Sri Sri Ravi Shankar


In the beginning, the heavens and the earth were void and without form.  Yet they contained power, a power that was never born and can never be destroyed.  This power is known as water, because it fits any shape, any time, any space, any dimension, any plane, and any circumstance.

This power is known as “the deep.”  In this great nothingness there was no such thing as up or down, small or large, before or after, but yet all of creation was contained in it, even your body and everything you have ever known or will ever know.  All of creation already existed, but in a formless void.

When you stand and face the North, you are facing the direction in the cosmos from whence you came.  Turn your body North and you face the deep – that which is both nothingness and omnipresence.  Just like rolling a ball down a hill, all things seek their lowest point.  The oceans fill with waters and become deep, only because they are lowest places on the Earth.  This is called gravity or magnetism.  The deep is magnetically attractive and all things seek it, that is why a compass always points its needle to the North.

If you ever find yourself in a time when all seems lost, never call it death.  The beginning teaches us that death, nor hopelessness have any right to exist.  There is no such thing as death, for even if the the very earth itself should implode, if you truly understand what was present in the beginning, there will always be hope – a chance for something new to be born.  This is why a new day starts not during the rising of the Sun, but only in darkness on the face of the deep.

In the beginning, there was consciousness.  Consciousness was resting perfectly comfortably but suddenly was first to wake up and wonder where it was.  It could not find anything.  It could not find the front of anything because nothing had a behind.  It could not find the short of anything because nothing was long.  It could not find the end of anything because nothing had yet a beginning.

After not being able to find anything, Consciousness realized he was alone and said, “I am the Alpha, the letter ‘A’ in the alphabet, because I am in the beginning.”  Now, for the first time, Consciousness had something to play with, the letter “A.”   Consciousness began to move on the face of the deep, singing “Ahhhhhh, I am He, Aleph, letter ‘A.”

If you are ever lonely or marching forth single-handedly into something new, you can share in this song because you are walking in the footsteps of the One who created you.  It doesn’t matter if you are a boy or a girl, part of your inheritance from the creator was the right to always walk in his footsteps.

Then Consciousness suddenly stopped in the middle of his Song, and he said, “I have something to play with and a song to sing, because I have created something.  I am a creator!!!  I am a father!!!  I will call myself ‘AvRahm’ because I am now a Father!  My first child is the sound of “A.”  That is why this sound is always the first sound of every alphabet in the world.

End Game – The Book of Redemption

Every world, every dream, every reality is based on a vibration.  No vibration, no reality.  Change vibration, change reality.  This can be demonstrated using sound being projected through a medium, the field of cymatics.  Please watch this 2 minute video and see if you can count how many “realities” these particles organize themselves into:

I count 15 realities, each one more complex and dynamic than the former, each one resting on the foundation of and materials of the former reality, each one tuned to a more refined vibration than the former.  In between each reality I saw scattering disorganization as the former dissolved into the new.

End Game – The Book of Redemption

A Retelling of the Bible from the Perspective of a Lucid Dreamer

By AJNA The Scribe




When a seed is born, it peers only into uncertainty and darkness.

“Which way do I grow? I only get one shot at this.

My substance cannot go far before it is expired, and I must find IT – that thing. I must find IT.”

And so the little seed leaves its shelled home, its eye peering always forward –

Not knowing if forward be up or down, or into stone beside.

Undulating, imperceptibly undulating, a secret destination is plotted.

No one sees the single step, the wave-life, wave-like rocking gently back and forth,

ever forward – praying that forward finds IT.

Undulating waves grow stronger and longer and taller,

Now a gentle hint of green can be seen from my body in preparation to receive that which I seek,

Preparing me for my true life purpose, unknown, yet emanating

Respirating even in darkness.

Finally!! I can see!!  Here, in a new unknown, that feels so much like home

And my heart sings, “In the light, all love is found!”


This book is a work of fiction, but a work of fiction written by a lucid dreamer.  What is fact or fiction to one who has dreamt lucidly for 30 years?  How many lives, how many stories redeemed?  How many characters has he lived as and applied their lessons to his living in the “real world?”

Where in your body do you reside?  One year ago, the experience of the physical body has shifted dramatically for the author.  Just as the poem, “The Seed,” above, seemingly a seed had burst in the sacrum of the spine and began a new journey up the spinal column, seeking the light visible from its “soils,” seeking a resting place, perfectly breathing the light visible from the above the crown of the head.

The human body has 5 spines, each a perfect replica of and higher vibration than the other.  These are: the sacral spine, lumbar spine, thoracic spine, cervical spine, and that most subtle body residing above the crown of the head.  Between each “spine” are 7 “seals,” gatekeepers who hold the seed until it has enough energy to “burst” again.  During the process of the seed ascending this tower, many more “births” and “deaths” continue to unfold.  Is there any difference to a dream?  No, lucid dream training is the perfect preparation for such a journey.

What does this mean?  A kundalini awakening?  Enlightenment?  The birth of a messiah?  None of these hold any meaning for the author!!!  They are just words, words with no meaning.  For a lucid dreamer, who has experienced living personally in thousands of dream-births and dream-deaths, it is simply a natural progression of growth available to any dreamer on THE WAY.  Dreamers assist each other best by simply telling their stories, and reflecting aloud on their experiences.

The author was born into a Tri-lingual Jewish family, and exposed over time to a buffet of spiritual philosophies and practices.  What did the Bible represent to a Jewish kid?  Dinners with family, meals that retell stories and the proud history of a people in love with God.  It meant dancing, Israeli folkdance camps, and the source of inspiration for the songs that gave identity to a nation.  And yet that nation was built on the rubble of a people who, too, have a story.  If the death of a civilization is tragic, even more devastating is the death of their story.

Since that fateful day a year ago, sleeping dreams come less and less.  Those that do are incredibly flexible in the identity of the dreamer.  When a lucid dreamer visits the ocean, he experiences the scene from the perspective of the waves, of the cliffs, of the sunlight.  Each of those players in the dream has its own journey, its own hopes and aspirations and the dreamer “moves through” each of their identities with ease.  What is waking life to such a person?

What does the Bible represent to a lucid dreamer?  Perhaps it represents a world dream.    Each of the players of the story represent an aspect of consciousness, each of the stories represent a movement of life, perhaps in one’s body.  The Bible is the story of each our cells discovering who they are and starting to wake up and work together.  This book is an attempt of the author to “see” through the eyes of each of most resonant characters and uncover that which is relevant to him.

How is time reflected or represented in a dream?  Things jump around and sometimes dreams are contained within dreams.  The Bible is the same.  Everything is modeled on a pattern of the number 7.  That being said, the author is not a Rabbi nor a biblical scholar but simply telling a story and just like any other endeavor, learning as he goes!

How is growth reflected in a dream?  Shake a pound of salt on a sound table and see how it behaves in increasing frequency and amplitude.  This is the field known as cymatics.  Vibration causes seemingly inanimate media to come alive in flowering, mandala-like patterns. The higher the frequency and amplitude the more complex the structure becomes.  In between each “expression” of the structure there are periods of disorganization.  This method of growth is not unlike the development of a zygote: an embryonic miniature replica that would eventually express itself as a living, breathing unit of consciousness that we call ourselves as individuals.  Could the body of humanity, too, be a zygote of something greater?

This story is just that – a story, but hopefully it will be a story celebrating what it really means to be a human being.  The story seeks not to glorify any particular person, least of all the author!  The story seeks not to vilify any particular person or group as well and enters into the project with the premise that all the characters on stage are a part of each of us, in consciousness, animated like the salt on the cymatic table that we call life.

Where have we come from?  Who are we?  Where are we going?  These are the ultimate questions that mythology bursts forth to answer.  The quality of the story is a seed for the quality of life for the one asking.  Perhaps all mythologies relate to each other and the huge pantheon of possible characters, too, represent each of the cells of the body of human consciousness on more subtle planes.

What does it really mean to be a human being?  Where is the limit of human potential?  If this story serves to push the bar of that limit to any degree, then the book has succeeded in an act of redemption.


Desire and Intent

“You can have, do and be whatever you want in life.  You – and your life – simply become whatever it is you think about most of the time.”
~Kevin Trudeau

Desire is often suppressed among spiritual and religious people:  desire for money, desire for certain experiences in life.  Hopes, dreams, life goals:  how often they fade away!

What is wrong with having desire?  Without wanting , or allowing oneself to want the experience of something, it seems the will to live is not vibrating as dynamically as it could.  If one is ashamed of desire, wanting does not go away, but rather the LACK of fulfillment becomes the most intensified thought process guiding one’s life.

Jesus said, “I and my Father are one,” and “Not my will, but thy will be done.”  Understanding these phrases may help to understand the proper function of desire and intent for a truly fulfilling life.

Wanting is an impulse, a spark of awareness, energy and will moving in a specific direction of creation.  It is divine in nature, but oh, how it is vilified!  Why are we so conditioned against such creativity?  Wanting – desire – always has an image attached or associated with it.  The image may be of the experience of that particular form of fulfillment, or it may be an inner road-map of the supposed means of how to attain it.  This realm or dimension of consciousness is what is referred to as “my will.”  It is limited by what “I know,” by what “I see” is possible, and by “how I see” getting there.

Guiding and supporting “my will,” is “thy will.”  The will of the Father within can be perceived in a deeper realm of consciousness, through a simple pattern of feeling, visualizing and contemplation.

Please consider the following guided meditation:

First, ask yourself “What do I really want right now?” Don’t judge it, let it come.  When you have a sincere desire, it should light up your heart and make you smile.  Now, take your wanting, like a little dove shining radiantly in your cupped hand over your heart, and imagine entering into a secret room.  In this secret room sits the embodiment of the divine for you:  it could be a white-haired, white-bearded man; it could be a goddess or angel; it could be your higher self or guides.  Whoever you place in the center of this room, let us have some dialogue with it now.

Make yourself comfortable, however that looks to you: sitting, reclining, kneeling, whatever feels most at ease and relaxed.  Now share your desire with the divine, releasing all shame or guilt, simply stating your will.  Now hear and respond to these questions, which will guide you towards “thy will,” the place where you and the Divine are one.

“Why do you seek that my child?”
“If you were to receive that, what would you really have?”
“If I were to grant this wish of you, how would it really feel to receive it?”
“What would it mean to you if this were in your life today?”

Answer all of these questions in as much feeling detail as possible and write down your result.  Note how much better you feel.  Note how alive your body feels and how differently it is postured with such energy now available.


Now, imagine an example of the above in more every day terms:

A middle-aged man walks into a spiritual counseling session with the stated desire (unashamedly) for $100,000.  The coach, knowing the inner working of vibration, asks “Why do you want $100,000.”  “I am $80,000 in debt and in need of a new car right now.”  “So, having $100,000 would alleviate your debt and provide for this immediate need?”  “Yes.”

The counselor continues:  “If you were to receive that $100,000, what would you really have?”  The man slumps in his recliner, looking down.  “I would finally have a good night’s sleep, and the peace of knowing I’m really going to be okay.” There is a long pause.  Both are breathing very differently now, flowing fully long, deep sighs usually too slow to hear.

“So the peace of knowing you are finally okay would lift whatever is causing you not to sleep?”  “Yes, it would.”  “And how does it really make you feel to know, finally without any doubt, that everything can now be okay?”  The middle-aged man, who seemed geriatricly incapacitated only moments before, looked up and his face brightened shedding away the years.   He seemed instantly younger.  “I feel happy to know this, like I did when I was young, before all this…”  His voice trailed off, face dimming a bit.

“Now I REALLY want to know,” the counselor harpooned, “What would it REALLY mean to your life to receive $100,000?”

“It would mean I would feel peace, I would feel free, I would feel happy, young again, and I would know that everything is going to be okay.”  He chuckles.

One can see from the above example that honoring the “what” of wanting is only the first step.  This man has created an affirmation of faith that transcends all:  “I am at peace.  I am free.  I am youthfully happy, and everything WILL be okay.”

Really, the “why” of wanting is the most powerful place to be.  It is a place of deep feeling, a place where time and space, where “end to a means and means to an end” are transcended.  It is the realm of “Intent.”  It is the “why” behind desire.  It is the will of the Father within.

The “why,” “Thy Will” behind this man’s desire is peace, freedom and youthful happiness.  “His will” saw an image of how to reach such a state and it looked like $100,000, and no doubt if this sum of money showed up the next day or the next week, it would certainly induce some of those feeling in this man.  However, the most powerful reason why “Not my will, but thy will be done” is this:

If I continually meditate and “live” so-to-speak, in the “why” behind my desire, then I am not attached to any particular image of how it can manifest.  There could be dozens of possibilities for how the universe is going to fulfill the divine will within and unless I make room for them, opportunities will be overlooked.

May peace, freedom and youthful happiness be with you.


Time to Choose Sides: Knowledge, or Mastery?

There is mastery within you, but you will never know it.

The mind was never meant to validate the soul,

But to serve it.

Most people don’t like this statement, probably because it makes them uncomfortable.  It is no wonder, such a powerful thought has the potential to dissolve the unreal if contemplated and allowed to resonate deeply.

The above line is not a judgment of you or your capacity to know, it is a statement against knowledge as a whole.  It is a declaration, that knowledge has in fact been put in the wrong place, the wrong priority, in terms of who we are as Divine Beings.  This line is aimed precisely at the way the way humanity as a whole has been overusing, or rather misusing, their minds.

After struggling to express myself in midst of such people, I finally breathed a sigh of relief to realize that Osho expresses perfectly in his book “Love, Freedom, Aloneness:  The Koan of Relationships,” what it is I’m trying to say about the mind.

Firstly, Scientists used think of the mind and the senses as our gateway to perceiving the world reliably.  However, we only perceive 2% of what is available, and even that 2% is so projected upon and filtered by “mind stuff” that it is hardly reliable.  Osho seems to be suggesting, as I do, that perhaps the mind as a whole, is not the right tool for distinguishing between the real and the unreal.  “The mind,” in Osho’s words, “never allows you to see what is, it only allows you to see what it wants to see.”

It is your mind, but it is not in your service; it is in a conspiracy against you.  It is your mind, but it no longer functions as a servant to you, it functions as a servant to society. If you are a Christian then it functions as an agent of the Christian church. If you are Hindu then your mind is Hindu, if you are Buddhist, then your mind is Buddhist.  And reality is neither Christian nor Hindu nor Buddhist; reality is simply as it is.

Pointing to Osho’s need to distinguish between the real and the unreal, and to Plato’s allegory of The Cave, there is an emergence from shadow into the light when one makes the shift from knowledge to pure awareness.  Only pure awareness can accept reality as it is.  Such awareness is the domain of the true self, the domain of the soul.  Jesus said, “Unless ye be like the little child ye can in know wise enter the kingdom of heaven.”  The main difference between the child and the adult is the presence of pure being, unobstructed by such programming.

So it is time to take a stand:  stand with the shadows of knowledge; or with the light of reality just as it is.  Allow, perhaps for the first time, the mind to come into its true and natural place as a servant to the throne of sovereignty and authenticity of Being, and only then perhaps, enter the “Kingdom of Heaven” truly “at hand” here and now.

Love yourself, be your true self, and exercise its mastery, not in your knowing, but in your living.  Let the heart give voice to the soul, like the chambers of a flute to the wind.  Such sincerity the mind could never pre-conceive, but only open up to, support, and yield to in every golden moment.



When the light of awareness bumps up against concrete form, a shadow is cast.

So, too, does knowledge imitate observation. They can resemble each other, but never completely.

A blind person filled with awe-inspiring wonder has more vision than anyone full of knowledge.

Awareness, observation and a smile alone are real.  All else fades like clouds in the morning sun.


To be a good friend, see things as they are.  Don’t think too much.

The best spiritual support is resonance of heart and mind.

Everything you think you know crumbles too easily to the ground.


Delight in the flashlight beams of peoples’ gaze,

See through their eyes,

Honor their perspective

And meet them where they are.


No matter what’s going on, it’s okay to shine.

It’s safe. Don’t be afraid.

Your smile is crooked!

Keep checking the mirror and notice

How tension seeks to subdue such radiant lips.


Breathe like the bellows stoking a clay-oven.

Glowing embers in the heart, navel & crown alight to flame,

Heating up with every passing breath.


This is the domain of the soul,

the seat of true beingness here and now.

Will the soul ever learn to be more of itself,

And less like the mind thinks it should be?


You have mastery within you, but you will never know it.

The purpose of the mind has never been to validate the soul,

But to serve it.


Let the heart give voice to the soul,

like the chambers of a flute to the wind.


To speak only thus is authenticity.

Such sincerity the mind could never pre-conceive,

But only open up to,


And yield to

In every golden moment.

Soul Magic

The soul breathes as energy, completely absorbed, held still as stone – then squeezed like a sponge painting the world juicy.

Like the growth of muscle, the soul too must fail in order to exhale. Without perspiring fully the soul cannot respire ever greater magic.

A God-fearing man is not superstitious, rather, fearless in the face of failure, shame or loss since his limits are not defined by the past.

There is an “I” that creates, holding the cosmos in his heart; and, there is an “I” who receives creation. Thus, I and my Father are one.

Like waves at high tide, spiritual healing occurs with cycles of profound penetration and withdrawing, calling forth wholeness from within.

That which is of the Father provides for the future by planting the seeds of today. The first sojourn step contains all that is to come.

Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door

On March 8th I had a vivid dream, which together with the events of the day have left me quite unsettled – enough so that I couldn’t write about it until now.

The dream:

I was at a party in the covered outdoor patio of a white house. Vine plants clung to trellises, yet they seemed withered/near dead, so I guessed that I was in a warmer climate but it was still either mid-winter or early spring.

Then a man steps into view and I’m blown away enough not to care about what kind of plants are growing. It was Tim Duncan, followed by Kobe Bryant – my two favorite NBA heroes. There was another NBA player more in the background behind them, mingling in the distance of the party. All I could see about this player was that he was white and I had never ever seen or heard of him before – but he looked tall as hell so I was sure he was NBA material.

A party where NBA players are mingling with everyone? Tim and Kobe say they are going to another party after this and ask if I’d like to come. “Of course!”

The scene changes. I’m in a desert now, with a large cliff-face north of me and open expanse of nothing save the bright sun south of me. It is late afternoon, because a large shadow is being cast by the western-most side of this cliff-face. Tim, Kobe and the tall white guy lead me and a group of 30 or so people inside a structure.

A door opens up into the mountain and inside is a huge warehouse. We are all so star-struck that we hardly notice our surroundings. I was noticing, though, and this made my hosts more and more agitated. The big white NBA player suddenly pulls out a gun and starts shooting in my direction. I run for the door, feeling in my pockets for a weapon.

A handgun is there, but I can’t run, find it, and shoot at the same time. (very important dillemma).

I manage to clear the front doors without getting hit, and see a car parked about 100 yards away. “Cover. Just give me cover and I can arm myself enough to fight back.” Running, scrambling, scratching for another yard, another foot, another inch. The bullets have seared my flesh and a thud hits the ground 20 yards from my target. It is over. Everyone leaves. Was I brought here under false pretenses? I’m very confused.

I look down and my body is below me. I am “standing” at its head, for how long I have no idea, and feel very confused. Why am I laying down? I can’t be dead. I am dreaming, but I feel like a spirit now. I can see my body below me. What is going on?

Then from a far distance, a man approaches on foot. He ignores my body and looks “me” in the eye:

“You are dead now,” he says, his voice resonant, wise, gentle. “Trust the inner journey. Let your soul fly.”

At that moment, my soul is completely released from the earth and I soar beyond the atmosphere into space, then back again, making white arch-like trails behind me. Finally I dip above the atmosphere to space again, never to return, and I wake up.

Real life:

It is time for a day of community gathering, here at Sunrise Ranch we have 4 a year. I arrive a moment too late, walking into a ceremonial environment. A chant is being sung and people are approaching the area where the singers are one at a time in a gesture that seems to represent “Opening to their sovereign within.”

After the first half, at the start of mid-morning break, we get word that our friend and neighbor who was not in attendance, Jack Caputo, had a heart attack and was being rushed to the hospital. By the end of the 20minute break word came back that he was gone, passed away in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. This symbol of dying on the way to refuge, unable to run, get what’s needed and fight back, I believe, was my way of “being” with Jack in his departure from earth.

Jack Caputo was a great friend and mentor to me. He was my doctor and he was an elder both in this community and in the mankind project.

My heart sings to Jack from the depths of dream time, the kind that persists into waking moments: “Trust the inner journey. Let your soul fly.”