Driven to write

Below is the write-up that is the first piece inspired by my great aunt Lucinda. She provided the inspiration and the initial words. I take responsibility for the structure, style and tone.
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There is a veil that exists. Most humans never cross it. Not while breathing air, anyway. It takes enough energy, concentration and security to navigate the seemingly all-encompassing reality of this world.

Most folks of most religions can entertain the notion that babies are born with spirits that come from some other place. These spirits may or may not have communed with other worlds, with other spirits, with other dimensions up until they take their first breath and agree to cross the veil, to live only from their senses. The veil is nothing more than a choice to ignore the experiences and perceptions which are not filtered first through the sensory organs we’ve accepted as the primary, if not sole doorway to consciousness.

A handful of babies never fully grasp the contract entered into by virtue of being born, the agreement to deny the immaterial. They continue interacting with their spirit partners, angels and guides, for months and sometimes years. They remain oblivious to their spirit’s faux pas in the land of the breathing.

For most, bright lights grab their attention soon enough, loud sounds distract them. By-and-by they learn to rely on their physical senses like the rest of their incarnate species.

That none of the adults around them see what they see or hear what they hear makes the eventual loss of connection to these others a virtual certainty. There is no one to validate or acknowledge the perception of beings as brightly beautiful as any crystal chandelier with songs more melodic than the greatest classical compositions. Seeking the coos mother bestows on mirrored behavior, the child ceases to see what everyone else appears to be ignoring. “So that’s how it’s done around here," the child asks herself. "We ignore those pesky little non-breathers. Must not be good for anything.”

But in a few rare cases, a defect occurs in a child’s biology. A woman births a child, usually a daughter, who fails to learn how to turn off those other senses, the ones that connect to other beings and other dimensions. It'll pass daughter to daughter to daughter until the line is extinct. These glitches quickly and inevitably extinguish themselves as part of nature’s plan. At least until such time as the conditions are ripe for a world full of them.

It is even rarer to find a male with such a connection. It is as if the Y chromosome permits a greater resistance to whatever neurological functioning enables the mind to release the spirit and soul to traverse the veil, to choose to see without the eyes.

One in ten thousand born will maintain sporadic contact across the veil, most often through random occurence. In one or two of these, the occasional crossing stimulates a conscious curiosity. A fascination is sparked that propels development and tolerance of the extra-sensory world. When a man and woman both carrying the same glitch marry there is a chance for a one in one hundred million human being to be born who is entirely incapable of learning to see a veil between the two worlds--one perceived by the sensory organs and the other perceived by spirit. We call these damiana.

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It’s tough to inhabit the space between worlds while still anchored in the limiting illusion of time and space. Damiana are not lost souls. They are not homeless. Their problem is that they easily inhabit too many homes. Just as comfortably as their eyes perceive the brown of a pear, their tongue revel in the juices beneath the lip tingling texture of its rough outer peel, just as effortlessly, they perceive the vibrant energy emanating from the picked pear their peers perceive as lifeless. The worst of them commune with the pear to ask permission before consuming or moving it. In a word, they are crazy. They are perceived as crazy.

And that’s where I come in. Not just me, but all spirit guides, ancestral or otherwise. Just as they are standing at the edge of this great abyss of groundless living, we blow a gentle wind that pushes them over the edge into a freefall that ensures their eternal freedom, their independence of thought and the resulting certainty that they will complete their life objective.

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There is a veil that exists. Most humans never cross it. Not while breathing air, anyway. It takes enough energy, concentration and security to navigate the seemingly all-encompassing reality of this world.

Interacting with the various forms and beings whose homes are chiefly in dimensions beyond the third is a mind trip. Drugs are the most common route, though a handful of these have the unpleasant side effect of ripping a permanent tear into the veil, making it impossible for the crosser to live wholly in any dimension. Holding on to the experiences that follow a chemically induced crossing is difficult. What was momentarily experienced as accurate glimpses into another world dilute over time to become left over delusions sprung from hallucinogenic moments.

The result is greater faith in the world of the five bodily senses. Dabbling in crossing the veil wreaks havoc on our tenuous sense of security, making concentration on earthly matters all but impossible afterwards. Life can become uncomfortable.

The discomfort and unfamiliarity then too easily breeds ignorance. Ignorance too often begets false feelings of superiority. The fear and ignorance of what lies on the other side of the veil leads many to believe that their flesh-filtered experiences are more real, more significant, more of God than angels, spirits and the rest of the unknown. Human consciousness, trapped in a prison of linear thought, filtered through the prism of fear and doubt, is reality.

Dimensions are simply a reflection of where we place our consciousness. Like the ventriloquist who throws her voice behind a ball one minute, under a table the next. Consciousness can be thrown into a dot, into a line, into a human form, into a thought form or directly into Heaven. Crossing the veil, moving through dimensions is nothing more than shifting consciousness from one location to another. Be the dot. Be the line. Be your form. Be now. Be here.

Consider time travel this way. The popular mediums of science fiction almost always depict it as via an elaborate technological contraption. Mind, body and presumably soul are all simultaneously transported elsewhere: To the same world, just at a different point in time. Linear forward or linear backward are the only options. In the rare instance that time is not a closed linear system, only human choice in human form provokes change, for better or worse, depending on the plot.

When is the world ever changed in fiction by the mouse that chooses to forego the cheese in the trap, preferring a slightly lengthier sensation of hunger to the fate that befell the housemate, rotting ten feet away, his nose one-quarter inch from the prize. The exterminator is eventually called. The assistant flirts with the neighbor. Children are born. A few move. A town is founded three hundred miles away, a new sport created, a new contraption invented for the new sport, acres of timber felled, trillions of gallons of fossil fuels burned. The choice of a mouse changes the lives of all. Though, yes, it was a human who set the trap, who called the exterminator. Nonetheless, the mouse has his part…and spirits, and angels and thought forms have theirs. Humans are not the sole players.

Time is not solely linear. Time travel requires only a heart tuned in to the rhythms of the universe...and the will to do so. It is our heart-directed consciousness that is capable of traversing time and space. The physical body is no more likely to cross time than the chair, couch, ground or other object on which you sit or lay reading. The physical body belongs to the physical world and is bound by physical laws. The only vehicle capable of interacting with any other dimension, time included, is the spirit. The spirit is boundless: Unbound by linearity or sight or sound or a room or a body or the present. Spirit is all present, all dimensions. Time is subject to the dictates of spirit, not the other way around.

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In Heaven, we have a motto: “It’s no one’s job to save the world. If everyone would do the job they’re assigned, live their best life, the world wouldn’t need saving.”

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