Crossing the Bridge

Original photo from Scott Liddell

I recently managed to cross the rope bridge I wrote about a while back. It was a pretty interesting experience.

The bridge did break just after I crossed, so I had no way to go but forward. I was followed by a strange looking creature, though stalked may be a more appropriate term, as I walked the path that led through the trees on the other side. It seemed initially my follower was trying to intimidate me, then the sense I got was more of curiosity. Then he/she, I couldn't tell which it was, finally lost interest.

To my left I noticed a small clearing with tiny white flowers and what I thought were butterflies, or maybe birds flitting about. There was a beautiful sound coming from the clearing, as well, so I went to check it out. I was surprised to find they were not birds or butterflies, but rather souls ascending from this place and they laughed like little children at the foolishness of my presumption. The beautiful sound came from these souls coming into self-realization and leaving the garden, as it were.

It was truly beautiful, remarkable, and well worth crossing the bridge just to see it. Up close the souls looked much like the blobs you see in ghost photos, which I always thought were caused by the camera flash. Nonetheless, it was very cool.

A little farther down the path there was a large group of people who seemed to be loosely lined up, waiting for something. It reminded me very much of my near-death experience after giving birth to my son. These people, however, did not exude the joy that the people did in my NDE. They weren't unhappy, but quite neutral, and perhaps even bored. I never did figure out what they were waiting for.

Among them there was a small gathering sitting around what from a distance appeared to be a campfire. This looked like my kind of place, so I went right over to talk to them. When I got there I realized they were actually staring into a hole in the ground. I didn't look too deeply, but there was a warm, fire-like glow coming from the pit. Unfortunately, the people didn't have the normal mellow vibe that comes with a campfire, they were just obsessed with the fire in the hole.

Something called me back to the flesh world, so I didn't get a chance to see what they were really doing, and I'm not sure I want to go back to find out at this time. Maybe later I will.

Letting Go

I was reading this terrific article over at EarthSpirit about chanting to raise energy and change consciousness, and bring about trance states and the writer said something that struck me funny. The statement wasn't really about chanting, but more regarding altered states in the modern versus the ancient world. It wasn't the purpose or basis of the article, just a little bit of commentary within it. It was an excellent article, and I'd definitely recommend it to anyone interested in these things.

In the ancient world those able to achieve profoundly altered states of consciousness were revered and looked to for answers. In the modern world these types of people are shunned at best, and often medicated into submission to the norm, hospitalized and/or imprisoned.

Sherry Gamble, the author, goes on to talk about pagan rituals with drumming, dancing, and chanting to raise energy for a purpose. The participants in these rituals, she suggests, never truly let go. They are too concerned with looking foolish, or watching the others, more concerned with appearances than with the real substance of their work.

It's a strange clinging to the identity that others give us that keeps the doors to Gnosis slammed shut. It's apparently a learned trait. Babies don't have this problem, they don't know they're supposed to be something other than as they are. Small children don't have as much of the identity clinging issue that adults do.

The really funny bit, in my opinion, is that you think you're controlling yourself via your "identity," but the opposite is true. You're grasping onto something that society has created for you, you don't own it. And the tighter you grip, the less control you have.

It's very hard to sort out what's you from what's social imprinting. Even when you've done years of work and think you know, you find an attic full of garbage you've collected without realizing it.

I feel this problem goes far beyond the group setting. The "appearances" policeman lives inside our head, patrolling around our psyche, protecting us from truly letting go and allowing ourselves to enter significantly altered states of consciousness even alone, in the privacy of our own minds.

Due to this policeman's considerable efforts many people require powerful drugs before they release their grip on their socially-manufactured identity and let their subconscious break through and talk to them. They seem to prefer the confining and claustrophobic illusion of order over the chaotic freedom of truth.

Granted, this policeman is also the guy who keeps your hand still when you'd like to slap the stupid out of someone, but you know you shouldn't. So he serves a good purpose. I just think he's been tasked with jobs that really shouldn't be his concern.

Putting this internal policeman back in his proper place is a prerequisite, I think, for being true to one's self. It's hard to get him under control, though, if you don't even realize he's there.