Shaping Ourselves
This post may be one of the better Christmas presents you’ve ever received. At least, I hope so, because here we enter more closely into the question of how we should live; what the possibilities are. The easiest way to convey this is just to pass along the contents of this session with the guys upstairs. As usual, paragraphs in italics represent me speaking (or, in this case, writing), while the words the guys provide me are given in Roman text.
They begin:
This came via a friend’s mass-mailing to his list. (I’ve cleaned it up a little.) The author is unknown. As I read it, I thought, “the guys upstairs couldn’t have said it any better.” And in fact it is a major recurring theme in The Sphere and the Hologram. The piece had no title. I call it:
Last weekend, I conducted a little experiment. I made a little bet with myself that in a three-hour period, I could help a small roomful of people to come into contact with their internal guidance. For some, it would be contact for the first time. For others, it would be a stronger, more definite connection. I hoped and expected that in this — as in so many similar areas involving access to nonphysical parts of ourselves – it would prove to be easier done than said.
Enigmatic title, right? Here’s a quote from the guys upstairs, trying to give us analogies so that we could get a sense of the nature of physical reality.
“The only things that come to mind now that are going to help are the sphere and the hologram, those two concepts. If you see yourselves as holographically part of the entirety of the universe, this doesn’t mean that you’re a tiny part of something huge, it means you’re an integral part of the whole thing, and size is not relevant. It’s just really not relevant. And the sphere again, is only used as an analogy of completion, of totality. It doesn’t mean that reality is literally a sphere.”
— from session 18, January 11, 2002
[Sunday, January 15, 2006]
6:45 a.m. So. Here we are again. I shied away from that discussion about TGU versus any one of you. Why? It is as if I wasn’t ready to hear it – or as if I hadn’t finished making up the answer! But in fact I don’t know why. So I guess I’m ready for you at least to tell me why I’m gun-shy, and then the rest if you can get it through the pipeline.
This is a bigger subject than you consciously know. You recognize that you almost wish the question had not been raised, but you don’t know why. It is because you know, too, that “here comes another hit on my belief system.” But that is a danger of exploration – that at some point you will find something that reevaluates – or forces you to do the re-evaluating, rather! – everything you think you sort of know from experience.
When you first go exploring, that is the easy part, at least for a certain temperament. You start, knowing that what you think you know is probably wrong and certainly inadequate. For the first long phase, it is all gain. Each discovery is an item, one more useful trophy. If it doesn’t seem to fit very well into anything, that’s all right, maybe it will fit better later; maybe further discoveries will demonstrate where and how it fits; maybe it will be the key to fitting in other things. And in fact this is your assumption, your reliance, and your experience.