I have finally posted the Prelude and the first five chapters of the second Mac Mackenzie novel, THE HUMAN HOAX. Wish I had time to write more, but at least this might give you a taste of what's to come...if I can ever find time in my busy life.

I have posted my entire first novel as a BLOG NOVEL. It's a private eye mystery that naturally contains a lot of what interests me. To that extent, it's a kind of intellectual autobiograhy. But I hope it's a good read. Go there now: THE SATAN MANEUVER

The number 1 top page is my Sin City story, a pretty good one, especially if you have seen the movie, at

http://www.witnit.org/archives/2005/08/fictional_frida.php

My number 2 top page is this archive. I looked through it and realized, hey, I was doing pretty good that month:

http://www.witnit.org/archives/2005/05/

Don't be led by whatever has been handed down by past generations.

Don't be led by hearsay or common opinion.

Don't be led by what the scriptures say.

Don't be led by mere logic, deduction or inference.

Don't be led by considering only outward appearance.

Don't be led by preconceived notions.

Don't be led by what seems acceptable or believable.

Don't be led by what your teacher tells you is so...

But wait, there's more...

See you there!

I'd observed that lust, greed, envy, sloth, and their pals are giving the world a good run for its money, but that nonetheless, people in general seem to get from day to day; and that we in the United States get from day to day under rather wonderful and privileged circumstances—that we are not and never have been the villains that some of the world and some of our citizens make us out to be, but that we are a confection of normal (greedy, lustful, duplicitous, corrupt, inspired—in short, human) individuals living under a spectacularly effective compact called the Constitution, and lucky to get it.

For the Constitution, rather than suggesting that all behave in a godlike manner, recognizes that, to the contrary, people are swine and will take any opportunity to subvert any agreement in order to pursue what they consider to be their proper interests.

To that end, the Constitution separates the power of the state into those three branches which are for most of us (I include myself) the only thing we remember from 12 years of schooling.

The Constitution, written by men with some experience of actual government, assumes that the chief executive will work to be king, the Parliament will scheme to sell off the silverware, and the judiciary will consider itself Olympian and do everything it can to much improve (destroy) the work of the other two branches. So the Constitution pits them against each other, in the attempt not to achieve stasis, but rather to allow for the constant corrections necessary to prevent one branch from getting too much power for too long.

Rather brilliant. For, in the abstract, we may envision an Olympian perfection of perfect beings in Washington doing the business of their employers, the people, but any of us who has ever been at a zoning meeting with our property at stake is aware of the urge to cut through all the pernicious bullshit and go straight to firearms.

I found not only that I didn't trust the current government (that, to me, was no surprise), but that an impartial review revealed that the faults of this president—whom I, a good liberal, considered a monster—were little different from those of a president whom I revered.

Bush got us into Iraq, JFK into Vietnam. Bush stole the election in Florida; Kennedy stole his in Chicago. Bush outed a CIA agent; Kennedy left hundreds of them to die in the surf at the Bay of Pigs. Bush lied about his military service; Kennedy accepted a Pulitzer Prize for a book written by Ted Sorenson. Bush was in bed with the Saudis, Kennedy with the Mafia. Oh.

And I began to question my hatred for "the Corporations"—the hatred of which, I found, was but the flip side of my hunger for those goods and services they provide and without which we could not live.

And I began to question my distrust of the "Bad, Bad Military" of my youth, which, I saw, was then and is now made up of those men and women who actually risk their lives to protect the rest of us from a very hostile world. Is the military always right? No. Neither is government, nor are the corporations—they are just different signposts for the particular amalgamation of our country into separate working groups, if you will. Are these groups infallible, free from the possibility of mismanagement, corruption, or crime? No, and neither are you or I. So, taking the tragic view, the question was not "Is everything perfect?" but "How could it be better, at what cost, and according to whose definition?" Put into which form, things appeared to me to be unfolding pretty well.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nightfall, Jan. 30. Eight-million Iraqi voters have finished risking their lives to endorse freedom and defy fascism. Three things happen in rapid succession. The right cheers. The left demurs. I walk away from a long-term intimate relationship. I'm separating not from a person but a cause: the political philosophy that for more than three decades has shaped my character and consciousness, my sense of self and community, even my sense of cosmos.

I'm leaving the left -- more precisely, the American cultural left and what it has become during our time together.

I choose this day for my departure because I can no longer abide the simpering voices of self-styled progressives -- people who once championed solidarity with oppressed populations everywhere -- reciting all the ways Iraq's democratic experiment might yet implode.

My estrangement hasn't happened overnight. Out of the corner of my eye I watched what was coming for more than three decades, yet refused to truly see. Now it's all too obvious. Leading voices in America's "peace" movement are actually cheering against self-determination for a long-suffering Third World country because they hate George W. Bush more than they love freedom.

I've decided to just write this as an experience, straight on, without an attempt to prove of justify. It's impossible to prove anyway, and I gain nothing by telling this story other than risking responses by genuine whackos. This is just what happened to me and how I interpret it, the most reasonable interpretation in my opinion.

I can't talk about all aspects of it, because some things I'll simply have to keep to myself for various reasons. I'll tell as much as I can and leave it to the reader. I report, you decide.

Past lives (reincarnation) directly implies that some central identity in us is immortal. I was raised believing no such thing. Only through study did I come to believe in the possibility. It made sense to me that if there were anything resembling a divine plan, the Christian model was not it. One shot, judged forever. I don't think so.

So I embarked on a study and certain personal spiritual exercises to see if I could open that door. It didn't matter what I read or what my mind believed. I wanted direct experience. It took 10 years of work to get that experience.

And when it came it scared the hell out of me.

I recommended him to fellow teaching assistants and Shakespeare buffs. A couple of years after first reading him, I was cruising the used bookstores in Berkeley with a friend. At one point he said, "Hey, here's a book by that guy you like."

He handed it to me. It was called Alphabet of the Imagination, a collection of essays by the same guy collected and published by his daughters over 20 years after his death. Mostly literary essays on writers like Chaucer, Chekov, Tolstoy, Walt Whitman, and the like. The book really didn't grab me right off, so I put it back on the shelf. But as I walked away, I just got a normal feeling that I would regret not buying it so I went ahead and bought it.

I really enjoyed those essays. The guy had an unusual style that was a pleasure for me to read. At this time I had a roommate, a good woman, somewhat bipolar but okay. Luckily she was not at home when this happened. I wouldn't know what to say to her.

I was reading the book, the essay on Walt Whitman. I remember reading a passage where the author articulated an idea that I had once thought but had never told anyone, and I had never heard anyone else articulate it. It really made me think, Wow, that's interesting.

I wondered about this guy's life, so right then I flipped to the back of the book to read his bio. It said that he had started out studying mathematics, getting his degree in it, before switching to language and literature and Shakespeare. He ended up heading the English Department at Swarthmore College in Pennsylvania before his death.

I thought, Huh, that's interesting, he basically did the same thing I did. I had started off on the math/science side of things, even going so far as studying computer programming in college, before switching to language and literature and becoming a fan of Shakespeare.

I turned back to the essay and read a little more, and I remember thinking, Hey, this guy thinks just like me. The way we think about things, the way we structure our thoughts, was very similar. I looked at his bio again and noticed he had died in 1950 and I was born in 1956.

Now here comes the hard part to talk about. I don't quite know how to write this because what happened next is unique in my experience and never repeated itself in quite this way.

I had the thought, Hey, I wonder if this was me in a past life. I just had that thought kind of out of the blue, in the stream of my consciousness, it wasn't really a big deal.

And as I thought that, it was as if everything around me said, without words, and without me hearing an actual voice, IT IS YOU.

And it felt like I burst through a pane of glass shattering all around me, and the conscious awareness that this man had actually BEEN me in a past life suddenly poured into me like an ocean wave breaking through a sand castle barrier to swamp the castle.

And it scared the hell out of me!

I jumped up off the couch, and tossed that book away from me like a hot potato, and skittered across the room away from it. I was shaking in shock and literally in tears. My mind couldn't get my head around what had just happened. I felt like someone had blasted an emergency horn right behind my head.

It took my some minutes to recover. I crept back to the book, lifted it carefully, and began reading it with new eyes. My training in language and rhetoric and how sentence structure contains thought and reflects consciousness helped me see how the sentences I read in that book in fact DID follow some rather unusual characteristics I have in my thinking.

I suddenly made a lot of connections between my thoughts and ideas and interests with his thoughts and ideas and interests.

I went back and reread his other books and made more uncanny discoveries, the kind that could only relate to my mind and was absolutely unprovable to others.

Some years later, I had the opportunity to visit Swarthmore College. It was not familiar, and I found out that 50 years later, none of the original buildings survived that I would have frequented.

I did find a library archive, supported by Quakers, and they allowed my to make copies of a file of my old class notes and student testimonials at my retirement and an old photo of me when I was about 70 years old.

I still have those papers.

That recognition of that lifetime ultimately formed the foundation for a couple dozen other past lives I've come across. I've more or less pieced together my history for the past 2000 years. More often than not, the experience is discomforting and unsettling.

There's a good reason why we forget: The remembrance can play havoc with our current psyche. We like to think that the personality we possess is unique. When you start recalling other lives, other personalities, suddenly this personality is not unique anymore and feels threatened in certain ways. But more to the point, the pain of past lives is contained within our current circumstances, and reflected in our dreams and fears and anxieties. Recalling past lives will trigger and bring up a lot of stuff that's buried and, for the most part, we would prefer to remain buried.

There's more, and other ways I went about proving that this was truly me in my last lifetime. Those details aren't important to anyone but me.

Hey, if you think I'm a whack job, I can live with that. I've learned not to build my sense of self value on the opinions of others.

If you made it this far, thanks for indulging me. Maybe I'll work up the courage to tell another one, one that goes back to King Charles II's court, a past life that haunted my dreams for decades before I realized that what had been haunting me was simply . . . me.

I'm such an anomoly. A science-reason guy living with these experiences.

Anyway, after that first past life experience, I had a second one which I don't share with anyone, no matter how much I trust them. Not even my wife. Some things are just for you and you alone. Especially when the thought of sharing it with anyone is simply terrifying. The one time I did try to share it with someone, it did not go well.

This is the third past life I experienced. This is a complex one, requiring the development of several strands of thought, and so please be patient. I think this is the toughest past life that I've had to accept and reconcile so far. The good news is that it seemed to be a kind of test: Once I fully accepted the reality of this lifetime, over the 6 months right after, I had about a dozen lifetimes open up to me. It was overwhelming in some ways and exhausting, but I got enough of the overall story to make some sense of things in my life that never quite came together.

When someone claims to have an alternative healing technique, I hate it when they start pumping me for information. I want to come in, sight unseen, no medical history, and have them start telling me what they can tell about me. Show me you have something. Tell me something that I know that you couldn't know without it being something direct.

With that said, I can say that of the dozens of people who've trying kinesiology on me (also known as muscle-testing) I've pretty much decided that they all were either frauds or imcompetent at it, believing they were getting accurate information from the process when they weren't. All but one. I know one woman who can cut right to the root causes of things in ways that simply astonish me. She is the real deal.

I was born with a glob of varicose veins on my left leg. It looked like a bulging glob of entwined worms. My cousin, a medical doctor, told me that I would probably have to have them removed someday because it could develop a dangerous embolism or something. I eventually had that surgery and everything's fine.

Before I did, however, (and this was about 18 years ago), I asked this woman to see if she could tell me what the root cause of this glob was. I had another woman friend in college who had the exact same glob on her left leg in the exact same spot. That was just too weird a coincidence.

Using her own brand of kinesiology that had proven itself weirdly accurate in a number of verifiable ways, she told me that there was some kind of karmic tie between me and this woman, manifesting in my leg. (I won't share the exact details. Let's just say it was fascinating.) I asked her to help me track down the time and location. We came up with the latter half of 17th century England. I immediately thought, "I was an earl." I told her this and she confirmed it, as much as such a thing can be confirmed through kinesiology.

That was as far as that session went.

Let me digress a bit. For almost 30 years of my life up to that point, I had been dogged by certain nightmares. They almost always came in the form of someone or something pursuing me trying to kill me. It could be an unseen murderer, a snake, eels in the water, almost anything you could name. A month couldn't go by without my having a dream where someone I couldn't identify or some animal-thing was trying to strangle, stab, bite, drown, or poison me.

As it turned out, that thing pursuing me in my nightmares was this past life. Once I came to terms with it, the nightmares stopped.

Okay, onward.

Once I had the thread of a lifetime as an earl in England in the latter half of the 17th century (1650-1699), I wondered how to pinpoint it further. I still had not developed the skill of contemplating directly and opening these kinds of doors, although now I have a limited ability. It's just so scary sometimes, I don't pursue it as much anymore unless something seems to require it.

So I thought maybe I could track it down using the Will and Ariel Durant set of history books, The Story of Civilization in 11 volumes. I figured that even though there were untold numbers of earls in England, I just might be able to recognize myself in one of them. I had a time span of about 50 years. I figured that would be narrow enough that it wouldn't take long.

So I picked up volume VIII, "The Age of Louis XIV" (the French bias in this series is astonishing) and I turned to the index. Entries were like this:

Argyll, Achibald Campbell, 9th earl of (1629-85) 189-90.
I began systematically locating and reading about each earl. There were lots of them and I was not getting anything out of the exercise.
Another digression. Another thing that had dogged me all my life was a cutting satirical wit. I seemed to have been born with the ability to readily have a witty comeback, a quick insult, a cutting sense of humor. I was completely unconscious of the harm I could do with it until I was in college. I thought I was just being funny. Others were hurt by it.

It was so ingrained in me, this sarcastic, cutting edge, that once I became aware that I would lose friends and turn off acquaintances with it, I still couldn't stop. It was too automatic a part of my mind, too much in my spontaneous nature. No matter how hard I consciously tried, it would continually slip out and embarrass me.

One form it would take is mimicry. I had an uncanny ability to mimic anyone around me. I could easily adopt a role and play it out. I had some natural acting ability (I played several roles in an 8th grade production of Li'l Abner), but it usually took the form of making fun of someone.

I was an honor's student with a quick wit. In 7th and 8th grade someone tagged me with the nickname The Brain. Luckily my family moved and it didn't follow me into high school.

I was also promiscuous. I once knew someone who had a horoscope book called Sex Life of the Signs. I was never one to believe in astrology; however, I asked them to look up Capricorn and read it aloud. The first line: "Anytime, anywhere, any position."

That pretty much summed me up.

I also loved drinking beer a little too much. I could easily put away a six-pack and want more. I have since quit drinking entirely. I was born with a weak liver.

Okay, onward. I'm finally to the R's in the index, wearily reading the name of one earl after another, flipping to the pages telling about that earl, and wearily rejecting each one, when I come upon this entry:

Rochester, John Wilmot, 2d Earl of (1647-80), 270-71

I swear to god the moment I looked at that name a cloak of anxiety settled on me and I thought, Oh no, that's it.
I had never heard the name before. I hadn't a clue who this person could possibly be. As flipped to page 270, I already felt like I didn't want to read it. But I did. And my anxiety was confirmed. Here's the passage that comes right after a paragraph describing George Villers, second Duke of Buckingham who was dismissed from office, abandoned himself to degeneration, and died in poverty and disgrace:

His rival in figure, wit, revelry, and decay was John Wilmot, second Earl of Rochester. John received the master's degree at Oxford at the incredible age of fourteen (1661), was admitted to the court at seventeen and became gentleman of the bedchamber to the King. At nineteen, needing money, he made love to a rich heiress; finding her dilatory, he kidnaped her, suffered imprisonment, won the lady's sympathy, then her hand, then her fortune. Charles repeatedly banished him from the court, and repeatedly let him return, relishing his wit. Like Buckingham, Rochester was an expert mimic. He delighted to disguise himself as a porter, a beggar, a merchant, a German physician, and so successfully that he deceived his closest friends. As a physician he pretnded to effect difficult cures through his knowledge of astrology; he attracted hundreds of patients and cured several; soon the ladies of the court came to him for treatment, and even those who had know him well failed to recognize him. In nearly all these disguises he pursued women, quite disregarding their rank, and they pursued him. He amused himself by writing satirical obscenities, ruined his health with liquor and lechery, and boasted of having been drunk uninterruptedly through five years. He died in poverty and penitence at thirty-three.

A little later on the same page is a reference to a little play by Rochester entitled Sodomy.

Not the kind of past life one looks for or wishes to share with others.

Okay. I shut the book. I got it now. John Wilmot. Fine. I don't have to think about that any more. On with my life.

I tried. Bit for the next couple of months I couldn't get away from it. Knowledge of that life dogged me like a shit on the bottom of my shoe. It smelled, I smelled, and nothing I could do could get him out of my mind.

I lay awake some nights feeling like someone was punching me. I felt like the karma of that lifetime was really hitting me. It permeated my cells and there was no escaping it. It was a horrible two months.

I decided to get more information on the guy. Using a university library, I found that writer Graham Greene had written a bio on the man called Lord Rochester's Monkey. He found something sympathetic in the man and his poetry genuinely talented. That made me feel a little better, but it was still a dark and ugly past life. You can read some of this bad boy's poetry here...if you can stomach it. I'm particularly fond of The Dying Lover to his Prick.

In an earlier post, I shared a spiritual exercise using the word HU. This word shows up in Rumi's poetry, in ancient Egypt, in the Celtic religion, in Sanskrit, and even in tracing the history of the word GOD in the Oxford English Dictionary.

Sometimes I gather with friends and we sing HU together for 20 minutes or so.

I was having a particularly bad day with this Rochester lifetime. I felt like my muscles were cramping up, permeated by the anger and debauchery of that man. I didn't know what to do to get past it. I felt like the Elephant Man. I am not an animal! I am a human being!

I remember that I didn't want what I was going through polluting the HU we were going to sing together, so I tried to set it aside. We gather in a small circle of about 7 or 8 people and began singing HU.

About 2 minutes in I knew that there was no way I could avoid thinking about Rochester. So in complete frustration, I mocked up his face in my mind's eye and said to myself, "I don't care what it takes, I'm going to face this directly and get through it."

And I HUed directly into my own face in that lifetime.

Almost immediately I began smell something burning. I thought maybe the heat in the building had clicked on, you know, with that initial gassy burning smell. I opened my eyes, but there was no heat running. Nothing was burning in the room, and everyone else was contentedly HUing away.

So I closed my eyes again, and I realized what I was smelling was a kind of sandlewood incense.

I hate incense. I never could understand those people who could sit in a room with burning incense and not gag on it. I had quit smoking cigarettes by this time and the last thing I wanted to do was breath in anything smokey.

But this was different. I inhaled the vapors and they were not smokey, but nourishing and healing. The vapors were incredibly thick, as if someone were holding a bowl directly under my nostrels and I was breathing in these thick, thick, vapors of sandlewood incense. And as I breathed in, the vapors washed through my body and in minutes cleansed out every bit of the gunk and darkness and anxiety and pollution that had saturated the cells in my body. It was a quick, cleansing healing of that lifetime.

The HU ended, everybody opened their eyes, and I sat there completely free of what had dogged me for the last two months. I asked if anyone smelled anything, and nobody had. I kept it to myself.

I was grateful that it all was washed out of me.

Occasionally I go back and read about that guy. It's not always easy, but it explains a lot about me.

I no longer have those nightmares. And I finally had that sarcastic wit washed out of me. At least the automatic part. I can exercise it consciously now. I try to do that less and less as time goes on.

I'm also no longer promiscuous, which is good since I've been married now for 10 years.

Here is what I believe. This is probably much more than you’re asking for. (My Comments aren't working for me, so I'll post this.)

First, a story:

God had finished creating the earth and invited four angels to help him with the final detail: Where to hide the Truth so that it would require great effort for mankind to find It.

The first angel said, ‘Place Truth on the highest mountain.’ The second said, ‘Place Truth at the bottom of the ocean.’ The third said, ‘Place Truth deep in the earth.’

The fourth angel said, ‘Sooner than later humans will seek out the highest mountains, dive to the bottom of the oceans, and explore deep within the earth. Place Truth within man himself. It will be the last place he will ever think to find it.’

What follows is what I’ve been able to put together so far. Any part of it is subject to change without notice based on further personal experience. More of this than you would believe I know firsthand. I may be crazy, but at least you have to admit it is a pluralistic vision that validates pretty much everyone’s place in this world. Take it for what you will. Since I’m not of a proselytizing nature, I pretty much don’t care if you believe any of this or not. I have nothing to prove. All I know for sure is that you are unlikely to have heard it put this way before.

(If you have a strong reaction to what follows, just relax. Take it in as entertainment, as the ramblings of an unusual mind. I'm not dangerous to anyone. Really!)

So, onwards:

Notice that I said you ARE Soul, not that you HAVE a Soul. That’s a big difference. You are not your body. As Soul you take on a body to play in this and other worlds.

As Soul you have always existed and always will exist. Death is the greatest hoax ever perpetuated on humankind.

You have lived thousands and perhaps millions of lifetimes, on this world and many others, taking many different bodies and living an endless varieties of lifetimes.

Everything you can imagine actually exists somewhere. That’s why you can imagine it.

Even though reincarnation is true, it is not the caricature some make it out to be. Generally speaking, you do not go backwards. The bug you step on is not your dead grandmother.

This universe, and every other one, exists as a kind of playground and school for Soul. The main law is that you have to live with the consequences of everything that you think, do, and say. What you think, do, and say may come back to you instantly or more likely in other lifetimes. That’s why life may appear to be unfair.

Life is perfectly fair. There are no victims. Nothing can come to you or be kept away from you except in accordance with your state of consciousness.

You get to play in these worlds of matter, energy, space, and time as long as there is a role to play that interests you, and as long as you owe a debt; that is, as long as you still have something you thought, did, or say that is waiting to come back to you.

Every heaven (and hell) exists, and you don’t have to wait until you die to visit.

There is no sin, nor any spiritual value to fear, guilt, and shame, other than understanding that they can keep you from moving forward.

You get to play every role: male and female and everything in between, master and slave, rich and poor, black and white and every other color, race, ethnicity, and religious or non-religious background, the great leader and the bad leader, the great follower and the bad follower, the entertainer, the artist, the musician, the scientist, the inventor, the starship captain, and everything else you can imagine.

The higher worlds are available to you through Soul travel, dreams and other techniques. Like anything else, these are skills that require effort to learn and apply.

Your dreams are real. Many are symbolic, but some are you leaving your body and visiting actual places and actual people.

The closest ‘heaven’ to this world is popularly called the Astral plane. This is where you usually go when you dream. The heavens of Hinduism and yogas and many emotional based religions reside here. Paramahansa Yogananda’s book ‘Autobiography of a Yogi’ gives a fair description of this place. Also the Robin Williams movie ‘What Dreams May Come’ gives some interesting examples.

There are many other "planes." The Causal (past-life records), Mental (the heavens of Buddhism and Christianity reside here...also more Hinduism), Etheric (archetypes and symbols) ...And these don't include the Soul planes, where the real action is. The difficult thing about Soul planes is: they exist beyond language, image, time, and space. Thus, they are rather hard to talk about.

Most dream books are a waste of time. We each have our own symbols and places we go. You can begin to learn your own dream territory by keeping a dream journal. The more you work to record your dreams, the more you will remember, and the more you will be able to interpret your own dreams.

Past lives can be recalled, but it is not always a comfortable experience. Usually, it is better to have the experience naturally rather than rely on others to tell you. Charlatans are the rule in this world. Very few people have the ability to tell you your past lives. And those who do rarely will let you know it, or bother to set up shop.

Every religion, every faith and non-faith, has some truth to it. Every path that everyone is on is legitimate. We are all perfectly at this point where we are supposed to be. Nobody can honestly tell someone else they have their answers.

The spiritually experienced cannot always be recognized based on appearance. The drunk in the street can be more spiritually advanced than the priest in the pulpit.

The people who seem to be the most challenging to you in your life are often Souls who volunteered to take on that role so that you'd grow and learn the lesson.

Sometimes it can take several lifetimes to learn a single lesson.

No matter where you are in your life, there is a next step. You can always ask life directly to give you more direct hints as to what that next step is. It can come in the form of a Waking Dream; that is, like life is giving you symbols or a scenario to help you wake up to your next step.

Because your nature is eternal, there is no rush. You don’t have to believe anything right now. You can take it at your own rate. If you like your life as it is, fine. Then stay there. If you want something else, experiment. Maybe there is something here for you.

Life runs in cycles of Vision, Action, and Balance (Rest).

Traveling out of the body is a reality that can be learned. Usually it is best to have an experienced guide.

The best guide is as close to you as your heartbeat and has been with you since the beginning of your journeys into these worlds. You carry the Truth inside you, wherever you are, wherever you go. You are never alone, no matter how hard the lesson you're going through.

The easiest way to contact this inner teacher is to have a childlike trust in it and your ability to contact it. Just open your heart and ask.

Imagination is the spiritual key to unlock the higher worlds. Anything you put your attention on will eventually manifest. You are much more the creator of your life than you realize. You can be free. You only need to begin walking out of your self-constructed prisons, since none hold you there but yourself.

There is a spiritual exercise that you can do. It is based on the word HU. This word is not owned by any religion. In the Oxford English Dictionary definition of ‘God’ you will find HU as one source. HU was the ancient name for the Sphinx in Egypt. It is sung by the Sufis. It is the name of an ancient Celtic God. It is known in many forms in many different teachings. It is the lost chord, the secret word that everyone seeks out.

HU is a kind of lovesong to God, however you think of God. HU is sung in long drawn-out breaths: HHHHUUUUUUUUUUUU. If you sing it tonight before you go to bed, you might be surprised at the experiences you have.

The good thing about HU is that you don’t have to go through any religion or any priest or any third-party authority to have direct contact with the spiritual guide and teacher that resides within you and has been your companion since the dawn of your journey.

Singing HU every day for even 5 minutes (20 minutes is better) will transform your life in incredible ways. (I've been doing it now for over 30 years.)

HU can relieve physical pain, and bring emotional stability. It can unlock and release mental fixations.

The only rule is that if you are smoking pot or using any other illegal psychoactive drug, do not sing HU. It will literally drive you crazy.

When you sing HU, you may experience Spirit or God (whatever IT is) as Sound and Light. You may see a blue light (or some other color) in your Spiritual Eye, between your eyebrows, or hear a tone or music or tuning fork in your ear. Spirit will communicate in a higher vibratory language. Pay attention when you see or hear these. You may find that you begin to acquire an understanding of things without being told.

HU also works as spiritual protection. If you are afraid, sing HU. If you are in a dream that scares you, if you remember to sing HU in the dream, you will find yourself immediately transported to a safe place. Incredible, but true. Try it.

The primary spiritual law of life is, You Gain All By Giving All. What that means will sooner or later come to you. Spiritual Laws are real and in operation whether you believe in them or not: Law of Karma, Law of Harmonics, Law of Economy, Law of Love.

You are here to learn how to give and receive Divine Love. You will have to first move through all the illusions of love to eventually discover the difference. But again, there is no rush. You have all the time in the universes.

Fairly pluralistic vision, huh? If you happen to try HU and have any interesting experiences you want to share, please let me know. I may someday share some of my experiences, dream experiences, waking dreams, out-of-body experiences, and other past lives.

You don’t have to believe any of this to experiment and find out firsthand for yourself. Nothing I say needs to be believed. It’s all waiting for your direct, personal experience. That’s more proof than I can ever offer.

By the way, I'm not really all that interested in talking publicly about the actual spiritual path I pursue. But if you try HU for a month and you're getting results, email me and I may talk to you about it. I'm not interested in conversion. Just sharing.

Let me know if you would like more. Although I understand if you think this is enough.

Happy trails.