w Flight of the Eagle: An Experiment

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An Experiment

The tale that follows is a slight divergence from my usual excursions into awareness. It represents a little experiment on my part and will read a little awkwardly as a result. My apologies for that but it comes right off the top of my wandering mind. I sat down at the keyboard and cleared as best I could feeling that there was something in me that wanted to be said. The imagery that I outline here is uncensored and unedited. May it serve to encourage the experimentation of others.

engraving of oaktree, c. 1860The image of that beautiful big tree looms before me again. Its branches appear to stretch on forever. For a change, I am climbing up its branches one at a time in a way I would never have done as a child. It is painstaking work, but in this state requires no effort at all. Maybe that is why I wouldn't have done it as a child. The play of light and shadow is marked here and visually stimulating. It is as if the manifest and the unmanifest are both available to the inner sight. Whoopee!

I have never felt the breeze in this tree before but here it is soft and melodious. It whispers thoughts just below the level of word formation. "Speed up", it says. Wish it were so easy. "It is," I hear.

I ask for words to make this project workable. Instead I am shown a lantern and beckoned to enter. I see the crystal sarcophagus from the Well of Souls in the Pyramid I was shown in an earlier vision, and a series of images of tunnels and passageways. The priest stands there regally before me, in a tall headdress and shoulder plates of gold, holding a stone Ankh and offering it to me. He reaches out and places it on my forehead. Immediately a sensation of expansion takes place in me as if I am puffing up like a balloon with my inbreath. I experience a sharp series of subverbal thought and hope to retrieve it later. I inject a thought for this writing process, wanting ideas which would be of value to transcribe. I am told to mention the sense of equality and blending in this level of reality. We must step out of our little lives to reach any form of unity. Ideas that I have been working with lately, such as making shifts in my constructs of how the world is shaped, setting aside self importance, or placing myself in the center of the universe and thereby holding my "reality" together: these all become a feeling in my body. They take on a tangible reality as though the ideas were filtering into some more physical level of my awareness.

As I finish typing and close my eyes once more these feelings rush back to the forefront of my awareness. It makes me wish I were a touch typist and could simply flow with this. Perhaps I should try to speak these feelings instead. I state the intention to experience more of reality than the construct I have held together all my life. I feel a fear inside, desperate to hold my universe together as it has always been. A sharp pain in the middle of my back and a sizzling up my spine take center stage in my awareness.

Just back from a long interruption into reverie. I saw the image of the canyon through which Eagle takes me along the way to my cave. It is so distinct and sharp today: lovely browns and reds, and the rocks of its walls glisten in the sunshine. I see my mountain, where my cave is, in the distance and we glide along the walls of the canyon on the way there. I find myself on foot in the cave and walking its passageways with a distinctly normal feel in the motion. As I reach what feels like a destination, I feel along the walls and find a crystal about twice the size of my fist. Touching it causes a blue light to be emitted and the room becomes visible. I only look at the nearest wall by the crystal and see two carven images. They are priestlike forms in Egyptian dress. The male has the headdress I see but he doesn't capture my attention like the female does.

What I see first is the stone strapped to her forehead with thongs. I am told to wear such a thing when I meditate. Then with only a swift glance into her eyes I look at the contraption on her throat. A large neck cage maybe three or four inches high encircles her neck with a large blue stone in its center over the throat. The cage is made of gold and highly filigreed. I can almost feel the effect of the stone in my own throat before my line of sight falls to the flat faceted emerald on her chest. Even her bare breasts can't arrest my attention from that stone which draws me into it for the briefest moment to see how it is flat on the bottom and the light radiates outward as it passes through. Next, the amber gem on her solar plexus which is woven into her clothing , a skirt or drape of some sort which rises to the solar plexus in the center and down to the waist on the sides of her body.

I am told to turn around. I see in the middle of the chamber a stone table upon which sits a crystal. It seems to stand on a point. I am told to approach and cup it in my hands. Its light brings a warmth into this cold room. I feel the impulse to pull the crystal into my body. It seems to blend into me just below my solar plexus and settles into a spot toward my back, just in front of the spine. I hear the thought that this comes with a responsibility to use the light well. I recognize that it is not me or mine but a gift to all and to be shared. There is a preistlike feel to this exchange, and a stronger than usual desire in me to be of service.

I ask, "How do I use this light most effectively?" and I call to Kuthumi for advice. Immediately I see the white tiger that has come to symbolize this entity/energy for me. It immediately switches to a view of the planet from above the atmosphere and within a gridwork of light. There is a feeling of momentousness and yet a lack of emotion or attachment, as if nothing matters here but here we are anyway. I can feel the awareness of the sun pouring through me as I sit at a juncture of two lines of light. The sun is expansive and loving and thoroughly uninterested - an odd combination. The sense of detachment and total loving makes an interesting gestalt. It is becoming hard to recall more than the periphery of this experience now. The words seem to blur the feelings somehow.

I take a break from the typing and ask to reconnect and my body starts to twitch slightly. All through it I feel a sparkling taking place at many layers of my being, like the sparks off a piece of metal being ground on a wheel. Each spark filters through all the way to the physical and my nerves twitch with the electricity. I ask what this means and hear that this releases small miasms in my field like acupuncture for the energy bodies. It continues through the typing now. It is pleasurable, though unusual. I relax into it. I find that my body doesn't need to respond to it anymore but the feeling continues through my energy field. I can see the sparks lighting up outside my body and feel them with senses not of my body. Pretty cool!

The feeling passes with a rush of subverbal thought which spans the gamut of my life. Little of it that I can put into words requires stating. I enjoy the feeling of speed which can catch up to this layer of thought but I have to admit that it is not always a valuable resource. I'm not certain what constitutes important thoughts and how to reach them at will. Still, each experience has its importance and I am not in a position to judge how great that may be.

This represents my first attempt to write such an experience as it occurs. I am pleased and surprised at how easily it came. Only time can assess the value of the content. Many such images flow wildly in series with only the occasional spurt of valuable content. I would encourage you to try such an experiment yourself. We are here to play after all. Happy travels!

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