In spirit!

Inspire-  meaning “in spirit” is  such a wonderful term when we think of its also  means being within a state of grace. More often than not, we get de-railed  from our  ideal state, which springs from the soul.  One needs to cultivate that part of our lives, as doing anything else will just “mark time” when it comes to enlightenment of the human spirit.

In this day and age we have stepped into what is described at the new age and  a  new paradigm-an age where man is more aware of spirit. More and more human beings have come to the realization that our true life is  the spiritual manifestation of  the soul, all else is simply the conduit to make the spirit more expressive of  soul- which in a way awakens to the voice of God .
 
The sacred duty of being an individual is to gradually learn how to live so as to awaken the eternal within. Once that moment is created, the possibilities  are endless for spirit to soar and manifest its divinity, its  light and love. Awakening to this is absolutely vital to human life, to life of the soul as well as to the eternal life.

Conversations with God?

http://fektiovercome.blogspot.ca/

As Shakespeare said- there are more things to heaven and earth than dreamt in our philosophy!....Is there? I thought I would mention the blog below.

 

Dear Angel

I cannot remember the day it was, but it was a wonderful day. I found the flat on Castle Hill. It was his dream when he was young to have a flat there, in the over 1,000 year old fortified old Buda section of town. It was a new building, -the only new building in that section of old Buda. He lived on the 7^th floor, on the phone he told me that his wife is ill, how ill I was about to find out. I was rather apprehensive-what do you say to a man who has given you life, yet never have seen him. My mother did not even have a photograph of him. Imagine that!

I stood in front of the apartment door not knowing what to do-should I leave? Or  should I stay?  My heart was pounding in my chest as well as in my head. What do you say to a stranger who is your father, whom you have never set eyes on?  How do you act? What do you say? I did not even knock when the door opened-and there stood my father. A gentle faced, grey haired elderly man with a huge smile and twinkling eyes-in  a white shirt  and flip flops. He embrace, held me tight and kissed me- like old friends coming together-or rather  as father and child. I felt the deep love in that embrace. He welcomed me into his heart as I did him after so many years.

He invited me into the living room. In the corner was a bed. In it lay a large woman-mumbling loud and  incoherently thrashing slightly, appearing to want something. There were all kinds of medical supplies lying around-medications, bedpan, catheters, creams, diapers. I suddenly realized the gravity of the situation. He went onto explain that Eva had  the early onset Alzheimer`s and she first started getting symptoms around age 40-and went downhill  from there in a few year-now she was 50 and  a complete vegetable-unable to talk, recognize anyone, nor understand or do anything for herself.  She was conscious-that was about it- though unaware. He told me that she  had been like this for the previous 5 years-steadily getting worse. She would not sleep at all at nights, just scream, often attacking him –she had to be spoon fed with liquid meals like a baby-catheter changed daily to prevent infections. A very heavy cross to bear- and remember he was concerned that he would be a burden to her because he was so old-The irony of life. His main worry this time was his concern for Peter-as most children according to him have the gene- he had done serious research on this.  And- this disease was very prominent in her family.

I asked him why he did not put her into a hospice. He replied: ”How could I for I have no idea what goes on in her mind. Maybe she knows, perhaps she understands. Perhaps she feels. I could never live with myself if I did that”.  He ushered me into the next room- with a balcony overlooking Mount Gellert with its magnificent memorial and statue and the Danube sparkling in the very near distance with view of Elizabeth Bridge.  His bed was a couch with a green plaid blanket draped over it. A coffee table on which lay numerous magazines-including The Scientific American, and different German publications. Opposite two carved Victorian ladies chairs-in red velvet were facing each other across from the table. Hundreds of treasured books were standing in silence as if on guard in four huge antique glass bookcases-and his drafting table filled with old drawings and  multitudes of different items. How odd- I seem to remember so vividly every detail of the place. Old paintings graced the walls-he told me who the artists  were, but that I have forgotten.

Then there was the old music box- a big square walnut  box about 36 inches by 36 inches and about 20 inches deep-in it a brass cylinder that revolved, with a glass lid  that could be lifted up, under which lay numerous various sized bells bells-each with its own hammer. It would knock each little bell according to the music as the cylinder rotated-it sounded like a  harpsichord. It could play numerous pieces, apparently it was  well over 200 years old.

I spent several  wonderful lazy afternoons with him; about a week- much of the time not saying much really.  He seemed to have know all-I too felt I know all. What was there  to say?  It was all felt. Just being close to him for me was enough, to experience his presence. He called me Zsu- I called him – dear angel;  “draga angyal” I could not call him father, neither could I call him by his Christian name-Lorant-and he was truly an angel in so many ways. He would hold  both my hands in his gently stroke them with his thumbs and  then kissing them gently ; first my wrist and then palms-as we listened to Mozart in silence. We listened to the music box also. I saw the love shine through from his eyes for me.  He told me about his love of Italy- and how he longed for Sicily. He also discussed his innovation regarding light in modern  architecture; and how important that was. Also some stories   how he had escaped from being taken to Russia during the war.  Also the story of the revolution. I asked him why he did not leave the country he replied: "If everyone had left in 1956. Who would have  have been left?- we would have had no Hungary now. Somebody had to stay. I chose to stay". Then every hour on the hour  he would go and turn this huge woman over in her bed and check on her and attend to her needs. He hardly slept, so he said.

One afternoon he stared  at me for a very long time-his eyes fixed on me, I was a bit  embarrassed by his gaze, as he suddenly declared triumphantly: "You have my eyes".  I see now that he was right, I do. I was told how very  intelligent  and lovely I was. We discussed  a few things-this is a mystery as to what; as I do not remember what we talked about at all. He made some wonderful food. I  do remember him in the kitchen with a huge white apron concocting something-he told me to always eat healthy, as he had a heart attack in his sixties-though he was always a careful, moderate eater. He never drank-told me I should not either. I should drink coffee as the German`s did- that was when you looked into the cup you could see the bottom; meaning very weak. Funny. 

He stated how very much he loved my mother still- and never in his wildest dream did he ever want to marry any one except her.  He was kind, gentle, loving, patient, considerate- filled with compassion and empathy. Not many would have done what he had regarding  his dying wife daily, talking to her gently-using different terms of endearments. I wonder if she heard? I wonder if she knew?

He just adored Italy- he said he  regretted that he had come back-and one day he would return, as that was his true home. He never did. I took pictures of him. Met Peter, but we did not click, neither was he told who I was, which was fine. The less drama the better. 

The last night we were together- I stayed late about 11pm-we  both cried. Then from his bookshelf he gave me a small grey stone carving of a Foo Dog- a student had given it to him. Then he led me to the balcony- he pointed to the sky: ”See that star there shining so brightly  –the evening/morning star?” I answered : “Yes”. “Well-that is your special star for always. Whenever  you see it-think of me” and he handed me a  classical music CD. Yes- I always do think of you , not only when I see my star, but often.

The taxi came-I left never to see him again.  He never said –“I love you” to me. I was a bit  sad. The next day- I called him from the airport to say a final goodbye-then just before I hung up- he said : “Ti amo Zsu- "I love you Zsu".  I was  so happy.

For the next few years we spoke on the phone a number of times. I would never forgot his birthday- he kept saying that there is so very much he wants to say and he is writing  this  long letter- he would tell me each time.  I wrote him a few -expressing how I felt. His letter never did arrived. His wife died in 2007- and he died October 4/ 2010 of  melanoma- he refused treatment. The disease took him in two months. I have not had the heart to tell my mother of his death-she thinks he may have moved to Italy and lost contact with us.

This was the CD-

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hOA-2hl1Vbc

The portrait

  Music has always been for many, a bridge to the unconscious-where we keep, preserve  and collect memories. Also lessons learnt, - regarding love, compassion , altruism,  empathy and other  positive emotions which reside in the higher self, often referred to as “the seat of the soul” I- personally believe that the negative emotions- hate, anger, jealousy, selfishness  and other such emotions which are lack of the positive, reside more is the domain of ego. One expands spirit, the latter stunts the growth of spirit, and hinders  the advancement of soul.

So –where does all this lead us, to a certain piece of music that has become the very fabric of my soul, due to circumstance. In  2001, I traveled to the city of my birth-Budapest. A few months  before I got to discover a great revelation about my life which was that my father, whom I always thought was my biological father –was not. My biological father, was in fact living in Budapest-and has always been in connection with my mother. I was not a surprise, nor a mystery to him, when I called him on the telephone; his voice reflected his  joy and happiness when he heard my voice. Though I had never met him, he spoke on the phone in a way as if he was always present in my life-and strange as it may seem he did not sound like a stranger to me.

I had made arrangements to go over to his apartment on the Buda side the next day, close to the hospital where I was born. At this time, he had already retired as  a professor  of architecture from the Budapest University of Technology and Economics, he also held the position of Dean, for a number of years in the 1970`s.  In the late 1960 he was a visiting professor for three years  at the University of Palermo and spent  also two years in Stockholm teaching there in German in which he was fluent. He was in every way an academic-loved teaching, and had a special relationship with his students . A great innovator in the technology of architecture and had brought many new innovations in architecture; regarding the importance of natural light-. He  had written many technical papers and numerous text books.  During the 1956 revolution, he was a major key figure in  drawing up the “16 point manifesto” with his students opposing the Communists regime demanding a new government and was the mover of the October 23rd demonstrations which was the beginning of the 1956 revolution – he was seriously reprimanded after, but they did not indict him . 

University of Budapest of technology and Economics.

To make a long story short in a nutshell- if a life can in some way be in a nutshell. My biological father  had met my mother accidentally- my mother was already married out of convenience being entirely alone in life-at age 17; her mother had fled to Germany and her father was away in Russia fighting the war. So she married a man ten years her senior,for stability.  At this point a few years had passed after the war, she was already 23. At this point they had no children, I have since found out that my father could not have children, she always longed for a child. 

The years  after  the war were difficult times for many people including my parents-they rented part of a house just outside Budapest. Fate intervened  in a most serendipitous way, and had brought  together two souls for a brief moment in time. He was a 2^nd year university student when his parents bought the house that my parents were renting. When she was 18, a very famous Hungarian portrait painter saw her, and asked if she would sit for her-free of charge as he considered her very beautiful. She did. It was hanging on the living room wall when  he came to look the house over –according to my mother-he stopped in his track and stared at the portrait for a few very long minutes mesmerized-she was always very beautiful, even to this day.  He moved into the house with his parents, and thus a relationship was born. Later he told her that, that  was the precise moment that he fell in love with her when he first glimpsed her portrait. At  the same moment she felt the same emotion. Their relation was platonic for many months . They communicated through knocking on the walls, and talking through keyholes for long  many long months. 

Finally he asked her to get a divorce and marry him-he was staring his 3^rd year. She agreed, but his mother as soon as she found out rebelled against the idea.  As  my grandfathers second wife was Jewish, the family was  highly anti Semitic, though it was years after the war, amid a grand drama she announced  according to my mother to her close friend:   “ I would rather see my son in a coffin than to have that Jew in the family”. That was the end of the marriage proposal.  On my mothers next birthday-which was on the 29^th of June, they met on the banks of the Danube- he presented her with a  gold wedding  band with the inscription of the very same date .He swore he would love her forever, as she did as well.  That was the night I was conceived- never before nor after were they ever together physically ever again.

When she found out she was pregnant, she made arrangements to meet him on Castle Hill at a  beautiful, old coffee shop-that is still operating to this day. He did not know of the news. When he arrived it was a very emotional reunion-she ran into his arms- him kissing her passionately. All this  according to my mother. She told him the news, he was just ecstatic lifting her up and twirling around with her in his arms giddy with happiness. They decided that if it is a girl, she would be Zsuzsanna, a name  which he chose, and if it was a boy, she would choose Peter.  Also they made a vow -always no matter what to keep in touch as their love was forever. They did. 

So he knew all the special moments of my life-even when my parents had left the country. She sent many pictures of me-and visited Hungary numerous times over the years. He never wanted to marry- but when he was in his late 50`s he was seeing a young woman who was 21 years his junior, she got pregnant on purpose-she really wanted to marry him badly.  He did. They had a son- yes, named Peter-my half brother. His prior opposition was  also because of the age difference-he said he told her that in a few years she would still be young and  he would be a sick old man. Strange ways life works.

Not exactly a nutshell- for the story needed to be told. Fast forward to 2001. I never had even the faintest of ideas all these years, neither my mother, nor my father ever said anything- and my father did love me very much.

Schubert

Call me crazy, call me mad regarding my entry- “List”-but I acknowledge that it is my own personal list. I think it probably totally defines me in every way-if and when someone will read it all, they will completely know me. The workings of my very soul. So, the odd time the  “list”  calls me for some inexplicable reason, and from it I get inspiration as what to write about-sometimes one is dead to the internal voice of the higher self and needs a bit of soulful courage.

Tonight I am called by Franz Schubert – he is one of my “soul-connections”-in both  soul and music senses. What do I mean by this? Well- certain things in life, like dreams, visions,  music often remind the soul of its real life, of immortalty- and  that life is entirely different from the material, mundane present-where we are mortal. The higher self, where the soul resides has a life of its own- and at times we accidentally step into that life for a moment by some miracle and there we discover our true self.  And suddenly it all makes sense.

This incident  comes with a short strange story-. Many years ago I did some  “conscious regression”-and  today this story seems just as real as then. For a brief moment I uncovered a few things about myself. Things hidden by ego and to access it one has to transcend the material world where I  got a glimpse of a previous existence- almost like a bleed through. Now- whether you believe in this or not is irrelevant, for it is simply my story, a strange story- perhaps  a figment of my imagination-however very real to me. Life is an illusion, just as a dream is-so what is reality then? What or which is our real life? All that exist has a reason, is for a reason. I was shown this story to make me  realize that  we are seeing only fragments of our real life-each of our lives is one piece in the puzzle.

 Thus wherever we are prompted by some unseen force of spirit, whose voice needs to be heard, needs to come forth-it finds its vehicle, and it always finds one if we allow it.   Each time  one has to be aware and accept  the gift it is offering-for it is a gift of realization. It is an awakening for a moment to the truth. I have had a few of these experiences- not that many, but by each one I feel closer to understanding –or as it is said in eastern philosophies, bit closer to enlightenment . Sadly still very far from total enlightenment.

I was in this magnificent room – filled with lots of  natural light. The whole episode was as if a fragment of a dream, perhaps it was. A beautiful ethereal dream. The ceilings were very high -the walls were in relief, decorated with gilded ivy leaves. Two large windows were open, the dark blue velvet drapery drawn to the side held in place by golden silk chords. The two huge double doors went from floor to ceiling- its decoration matching the walls. The light parquetted  floor had a blue patterned Persian rug on which stood an ivory coloured grand, rectangular piano, the four thick carved legs gilded lightly.  There was an enormous crystal chandelier hanging overhead, but it was not lit as the room was filled with sunlight.

There were a number of  Louis XVl carved ivory chairs and a setee , all upholstered in a light blue silk brocade; yet I knew that I was not in France but Austria. I knew for some reason that this was Vienna. I do not remember  who the the people were or how many, but they were present standing around talking. Neither do I remember any of the conversations. I felt that we were all waiting for something-I could not say for what.

After only what seemed moments, one side of the door seemed to suddenly burst open . The room went still-and in walked a rather short stocky  man with thick curly hair and glasses. He looked quite ordinary in a brown jacket-with brown velvet cuffs and collar, with a brown silk cravat that was tied  in a neat bow . There was a thick  roll of  paper under his arms. He greeted everyone and looked at me, smiled and he unrolled the paper and placed two sheets  on the piano. He sat down and started to play this-; sounding just like the one below-

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cq1CgNgVTJA 

Each time I hear this- it brings me to tears; the tears of joy I am remind me of the immortality of our soul- and that we go on to experience many more lifetimes before we complete our cycle. Then- one day we shall once again return to our original state-taking our place again within the whole. Within God.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpA0l2WB86E

Photographs

We all live in our minds-the present often is more ephemeral than our dreams. Photographs are strange creatures indeed, they capture the moment as well as the entire event-they are seared into our minds, into our consciousness till we breathe our last breath. They transport us magically through time and space –into times that we would never recall unless we see these wonderful images. Many happy times usually- hardly have any of sad, I try and not document those much. Some of my grandparents, great grand parents and great, great, great grand parents stare at me with very serious expressions- some have faded, but my brother is great at re-constituting them, thus they look like they were taken yesterday-except for the colour. Now it is called sepia-strange as sepia is generally white not brown.

They all still connect us to all those who have come before. It is probably true that we are our ancestors- as we carry the same genes and their cell memory. Looking at the faded images one can actually feel their emotions, their hopes, frustrations, dreams and loves.  My mind wanders far and wide, into their head so to what possibly could they have been thinking when those old photographs were taken, what lurked behind those serious faces and mysterious eyes; they never smiled. I love them all- and all the images of them, especially the very old ones- the daguerreotype between glass. We can trace our family tree back to 1670-on one side-well one gets confused which side after such a long  time. One hell of a  job of documenting it all, one of our relatives did the painstaking task-took him years. Now it is so much easier because of the computer, you can dig up the whole family tree in one afternoon. How technology changes things.

I am what you would call “photograph crazy”- always. Over the years, especially since the digitals, I have take many thousands. My real early ones were taken with a Kodak Instamatic-remember those? When I went on my European trip at 16- I took 20 rolls of 36 with me. I got in trouble at  a few museums in Vienna for taking pictures with the flash. But still have them-and cherish those memories.  Johan Strauss playing his violin there in the Vienna park, Maria Theresa sitting in front of the museum looking all regal and the numerous the beautiful rooms of Sconnbrunn,  and so many more.

I have scores of albums-many scores in fact , but- I also have a hallway that is filled with hundreds of them on the wall, from different times in our lives. People who have far gone from my mind are continually present because I am reminded daily, every single one is alive in my mind- fully alive. Thus I have never lost anyone, they are always with me,- all whom I have loved and lost physically. Friends from school, from university. Beloved friends from Budapest, South Africa, Montreal, Trinidad -many are no longer in the earthly realm and have joined the angels, but they are ever present  living in me. Weddings and baptisms- no funeral.  All my old boyfriends smile sweetly back at me from those photographs- from my very first one to the last one.  Also my different metamorphosis-up and down the scale, I mean literally the scale :-) But still looking presentable I have to add with humility and a smile :-) Where has time gone?

The numbers of photos have increased substantially since the digital age. Just this afternoon I did a whole entire series of every corner and nook of our house-inside and out;well being relatively new, we have just been here a year. I took close to a thousand. Why do I do these crazy things? Well, no day is ever the same, no lighting is ever the same- neither are we ever the same- even after a moment. We are simply wisps of memory. So, I document. I am lucky that most of my family are like this, including even the younger members of our family. The moment, the evening, the event passes in a moment-and what is left are the images in our minds frozen in time on something called a photograph; often accompanied with sounds and fragrances of that moment as well. Music is great to recapture the moments as well-but that for an other day.

Memories are very precious- and those are the only things that are left with us, in us, that we take with us. Our lives become far reaching and far wider with images that burn into our minds. Far richer in content and in context with remembrance. Birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, weddings, baptisms, graduations, holidays and just special moments  make our lives filled with enormous riches, happiness and joy-images to look back and enter that moment with reverence and appreciation.  Yes-each moment of our lives is sacred-never to return, but never lost because of the photographs we take.

Predetermined

One often wonders why things happen.Is it all just by chance or is it predetermined. I wondered today as I watch the aftermath of the terrible event in Italy. I wondered that most often earthquakes happen at night a very large percentage of the time, more so in the early hours of the morning than any other time.  True-the Haiti quake happened during the day- but very few do. If it was by chance then it would be 50-50- but it is not. Why? Is there predetermination by a master planner?  Is it that people are asleep and should not witness the event?  Or is it that the angel of death does not want them to be conscious of the event?  They are mostly unconscious of the fact of what is happening around them. Why is that?

The world is so unpredictable. Things happen suddenly, unexpectedly. We want to feel we are in control of our own existence. Are we? In some ways we are, in some ways we are not. Are we ruled by the forces of chance or coincidence or some cosmic force or karma? I do not think that things  just happen in this world and just pass away into oblivion  -always everything has a reason  which we may never know or comprehend. 
  

We do not live in an accidental, haphazard universe. All is in balance out there in the cosmos, so why would it be different here on this tiny planet? Things happen according to certain laws, laws of nature and of karma. The law of karma, states that what you sow, that is what you will reap. Nothing falls outside the law of karma-for every action has a reaction. Often this is unclear to the human mind, such understanding lies beyond human understanding. 

All is a mystery because we are in the center of it-and do not see the forest for the trees, we do not understand why such a calamity has taken the lives of so many people as in Italy yesterday-but there is a reason. Such an event teaches many lessons to many-people within the event as well as without-it makes us think and put things into focus, we start to think about certain aspects of life. The “why” it happened-is irrelevant, the point is that it did and the reason is always fair, always directed from a higher ground-and always with purpose. Why did so many people die? Young and old ? We have no insight into their soul`s purpose nor into previous lives.  

Yes- we all want to live and try and hold onto life in anyway we can. Dying we think is a bad thing, especially for the ones left behind- but if we believe in spirituality and  that the soul is eternal, then in fact these souls are set free from the bonds of life and have left on a journey that is of a higher purpose than of what they have left behind. Buddhism teaches us that dying is liberation. Is life and death predetermined? I think so. By whom? Perhaps by us before  we are born.

Devotion

Often people find it strange that being an old country Catholic, I talk and have deep connection and resonance with  the eastern religions-I have been called a hypocrite. True- I say the Catholic rosary and have a deep connection to my Catholic roots, and a deep commitment to Mary and her blessed son, Lord Jesus- but I am also just as much devoted to Lord Krishna, Radha and Lord Ganesh- I say the Gayatri mantra with as much dedication of  faith as I do the Our Father - and I align  just as strongly with the  words of Bhagavad Gita as the Bible.  Lord Shiva-and Goddess Kali- are the very expression of  - God, of the manifestation of consciousness and energy, which creation is itself, we are that energy in creation-the mind of the Creator. Many will see this a contradiction- I not at all. The words of Lord Buddha are  just as meaningful as that of my Lord, Jesus.

If one looks at the different  religions –the bottom line is that all speak the same language, just using different words. No conflict  regarding God- be that He, She, It or Universal Consciousness or Source- God has endless animations- many millions in the Hindu faith, three in Christianity; where as none in Buddhism. So what is the truth- who has the real truth?  All is truth-for all is God, all is within God, all is without God-all is God-as we are.

Call Him the Christian manifestation  of God within the Trinity, or be His name Brahma-or be that we are all God in a way, as in Buddhism. Above all the truth is-that we do not know the mind of God-how could we.  So- whether  one believe in The Holy Trinity or Brahma, or  Our Lady or Saraswati- or if we live by the words of the Bible or the Vedas; all are a message to the human spirit, the road map for us to follow to our return to our source- whom is God, under whatever name one imagines God to be.

True love vs False love

There are 7 billion people on this tiny blue orb, and every experience, every event, every story is different and  nothing ever repeats itself. Also the response to one event may be also totally unique- also never being the same.  By this I mean that there is no right way or wrong way to respond  or to act or to behave when it comes to an event- be that an emotional reaction to a  dramatic situation or to personal relationship, especially love. The same event may happen to a hundred people and their response, outlook and action may be entirely different.  

Now there are certain moral standards that  we hold dear, but that is not what I am saying here.  What may seen absurd or entirely off the wall or crazy comment or observation to one, to an other seems rational and absolutely normal. This is the reason why it is so hard to give advice-our vantage point is different and our view may be at a totally opposite angle to the person asking for advice- especially when it comes to love. Only we can determine what is real for us.

Often we have opinions that are grounded in beliefs from childhood and mostly all behaviors have a deep rooted psychological twist to them. The prism through which we view life stems from our core beliefs – especially fears and insecurities and a deep human need, dependence and of wanting to be loved.

Now, you get the romantics and then the not-so-romantics.  But, here I shall try and thread the needle for the romantics, well my version - which it is the idea that  “real love is forever”  which  probably arose from various religious teachings which interestingly are found in a wide number of the world religions and theological writings.  Perhaps it was traveling monks, along with troubadours, who spread the stories and myths that love is a forever thing.

 The concept that love never ends is distinctly and clearly scriptural in Christianity. Especially in certain Hindu, Buddhist and Islamic traditions there are teachings promoting the idea that all love, even passionate and sexual love, is of divine origin and, thus, is everlasting.  Similar thoughts can be found in the scriptures and theology of Judaism, Taoism and a good many other smaller religions.  Thus, the thesis that one does not fall out of true love but only falls out of false love is quite arguable from a wide range of religious perspectives. Is true only if  is the real thing- that love is forever-yes. Love is a special energy vibrating on a unique level-that we get to feel.

Just a postscript-In most forms of Christianity, Buddhism, some kinds of Hinduism, and especially Sufi Islam, it has been taught that all real love is first of and from the deity, second is not jealous, third is not judgmental, and forth can forgive all.  Therefore, real love is divine and therefore cannot be bad for you in any way I think. 

 

Kundalini 2

 

Made me wonder as I was watching the video- regarding the 7 human  chakras-which are in simple terms the  swirling energy fields within the body according to eastern philosophy. How magnificent consciousness is- a higher spectrum than the ultra gamma rays—thus it travels far faster than the speed of light—thus according to this theory, (consciousness, which is coherent information that is transmitted)— which has multi-dimensions—meaning whatever chakra is activated, the higher, the faster the vibrational frequency of it! —the  1^st  chakra`s(basal) energy which is consciousness itself—its conscious energy can  can travel at speed of light (186,000 mls/sec)to the power of 2 which is (34 billion mls/sec)—frequency of ultra gamma rays with frequency so high as to penetrate anything at a subatomic level—the 4^thchakra(heart chakra) power of 3 ( 64 quadrillion mls/sec), the  –the 7^th chakra (crown chakra) to the power of 5.  

At the speed of light we can reach the Pleiades system (2.5 quadrillion mls)in 440 light years—but this way it takes only a fraction of 1/37 of  a second! To the power of 4—we can get to the Andromeda Galaxy 2.5 million light years from earth—in a fraction of a second! Here we attain super-cosmic consciousness.

 We need to attain the highest vibrational coherence in all of our centers that is possible in this lifetime—this is why it is important to work on the higher levels, so that we maybe able to travel farther—and attain cosmic knowledge—maybe through the crown chakra—we maybe able to, or some already access the “Akahsic Records”, the huge cosmic library of God. This is a place, or some cosmic space—maybe outside of time and space, maybe the Andromeda Galaxy where all the information is stored—all records of past, and futures events are stored—Yes—here is no “present”, this concept is a mere bridge to past and future. 
 

 And we are worried about getting a date on Sunday—or just with paying the mortgage, or that the” outfit “ is important. Thus—all of this information leaves us to ponder whom and what we or whom we really are. Lao Tse was right, with this being the truth: —we are mere butterflies dreaming we are man! Yes—Oliver is right—soul-work is where its all at, all else is mere mirages for the benefit of ego. The “sin” or the “missed mark”.

 Wow—we are far more than we can ever experience, imagine—we are light beings in action; we are God in action.