THE

GREAT

BEYOND

101

By

Lynda Ruth Symans


December 23, 2016

Recently a friend of mine asked me if I’d done anything to update “The Great Beyond 101” since I wrote and published it in 2002. Yes, daily, was my answer. This first tome started me chronicling my process. I’m not Pollyanna. I’m a regular person who has dark, anxious moments and on occasion, a less than stellar self-image. The flip side is that I accept myself more than I ever thought possible and have acquired more empowering skills so the dark times don’t last nearly as long as they used to. This is huge, trust me. And I quit smoking, lost my last twenty pounds and just two years ago bought my first home – not bad for someone who was the live-in caregiver of a 90 year old lady when she wrote this book. Nothing to sneeze at – I’ve come a long way and I acknowledge me big time.

The Great Beyond 101 is a dialogue between me and me – the real knowing me – the utterly safe, utterly loved me. I can’t resist me – I’m always with me – that is the great thing about being me – I am the guy that I came in with and I’m not going anywhere.

My great sadness is that Fran Lebowitz will never read this book - scoff maybe, if news of it ever comes her way, but never read. She’s one of the people who inspired me to write. I can still hear Fran now – people who write books shouldn’t. Shut up Fran – I love you Fran.

I opened a big can of worms when I wrote this book and I have spent the last 14 or more years noticing, identifying and moving through many of those worms. Over time the names have changed but the worms are the same. I think that the bones in this book are enough of an infrastructure for you to be able to name your own worms just fine because really, there is nothing new under the sun when it comes to ideas (and worms) but the great news is that what we do with those worms, in each moment, is new…same worms…ever new opportunities to choose. Some choices are quite empowering some are just dead stupid and most are somewhere in the vast unaware middle. I like the empowering ones better and I know you do too but hey…

We are actually wondrous – all of us (sigh) but most of us don’t get that idea for more than seconds at a time at this juncture in our time so my theory is that we should stop kicking against what we don’t remember and just be in our day one day at a time and enjoy the bursts of remembering and let them flow through the doody parts. My job is to pay attention to what I’m doing now - the good, the confusing and the doody and the more I do that the more my energy ripples out in a beneficial way and that is my great contribution to my world – actually, the greatest contribution that I can make and I can make it any time, any day and so can you. Yes you can still contribute to the cause of your choice but try to remember to pay attention to what pisses you off and what doesn’t…it’s important. You’ll save more than refugees, trees and Dodo Birds if you do. As for the individual we just elected as our president? Like I said, remember to pay attention to what pisses you off – that energy ripples out too and it’s rippling out a lot nowadays. Don’t get me wrong – I cried for two days after the election news – but that’s me. You may have voted for the Dodo…this is America – let’s make a deal right now that we both want to feel empowered as individuals and promise not to waste time being mad at each other but find ways to be strong and move forward.

Enjoy this glimpse into me. I hope you get some laughs out of it and for sure I hope you get my heart in it. We’re on this bus together you and I – you are not alone, Pal. I’m right here and so are you. My suggestion is to go get yourself a yellow pad and your favorite pen and start your own dialog with you. You have a lot of unconditional love to give to you…listen up.


Dedicated to the nearness and dearness of me, and to the beloved essence of Oscar Wilde. We should all be so dead…and we are!


INTRODUCTION

I played with the idea of calling this "An Ordinary Life – An Extraordinary Love", but that sounded too much like an old Jane Wyman movie, although this is an old love story... mine with me. Instead, I chose the title: "The Great Beyond - 101" because when it came to me I laughed out loud. I know that small voice when I stand still long enough to listen to it, and this was definitely it.

My old mentor in the Christian group I was with for almost 25 years, used to say that if Jesus Christ walked into the room with his hat on no one would recognize him.

Do you think I should capitalize the "H" in “his and him?”

"Not unless you intend to capitalize the "Y" in "you and youse”.

Yeah - our point, exactly. I left the church world in late 1995, not because I stopped recognizing my own divinity but because I began to. A few months later someone suggested I read the book "Seth Speaks" by Jane Roberts. I spent the next two years inhaling all the Seth material I could find. The information affected me deeply and very much validated my choice to leave the comfort of my Christian cocoon, behind. My friend Seth is quite clear about where the buck stops. We create our own reality, individually, and thus en masse.

Jesus and Seth woke me up for sure, but I am continually discovering that it was me, all along, who gets me out of bed.

This book is a dialogue between me and an aspect of me that not too long ago I called God. I’ve been keeping a journal between me and this character for over 35 years, and this book is merely a continuation of our conversations. The only difference now is that this character is me. I think he’s a little bit more aware and for sure more accepting than me, but he’s still me.

“And we be quite together, Koo koo ka-choo.”

Oh stop. The world most of us live in is governed by many rules of conduct by which we are expected to abide. We have plans that should be made, goals to reach for, and usually someone else way more perfect than us that we should continuously strive to become. The very idea of letting go of these handrails and trusting the moment borders on lunacy.

I am allowing myself to become a lunatic and let the chips fall where they may and I'm writing this book because I have a very strong feeling that I am not alone.

Acceptance of me, in every expression, in every second of my day is the key, and that’s scary because I never know what is going to come out of me next.

As the result of living in fear of me for all of my life, I created the good me and the bad me. I am dismantling the wall between us and beginning to accept all of me and relax about the choices I’m making, and want to make, in my life, now.

The unfolding of me to me is a very intimate, real, and for the most part, empowering experience. Daily, I am noticing the impossible, and I’m bridging the gap between the world I see with my outside eyes and the world that I am beginning to see with my inside eyes. And if I can do that, so can you. And you don’t have to buy an angel book, go to a psychic, chant a mantra or even whistle Dixie, unless you really want to and if you do really want to then go ahead on and don't let me get in your way. I know, you could chant a mantra that sounds like whistling Dixie, and read my book at the same time. The cosmos is a very flexible place, I am discovering.

We are in the middle of very intense times, in case you haven't noticed. We are at the midway point of a very big change in our reality and how we perceive that change is very much within our ability to choose.

Like I will keep saying throughout this book, acceptance of ourselves is the bottom line, first, foremost and always. At this juncture in time, however, it's hard to accept what you can't identify. It's hard to identify what you aren't aware of, and it's a joke to try and keep a present moment focus when you're afraid to let go of the handrails and trust yourself for 10 seconds. This book is about my expanding trust of me, and if I can trust me, trust me, you can trust you.
VERDAD

Indeed is our love stronger than Fear's covey of crows,

And gaggle of geese,

Caged and crowded together,

A cacophony of caws and effect,

Adding thickness to the veil between us.

It is time to lift the lid, Pandora, and glimpse your true colors.

It is time to remember and wonder how it ever entered your mind

To strive to be good, to be loved, to be known.

And why did you hide yourself from you all this time?

What darkness were you hiding from?

A Rainbow?

Which lying lark whispered in your ear?

That you were made from the stuff of demons,

Or told you that you were the spawn of some pre-historic pond?

How did the delightful duality of flesh and essence

Become duplicity and death?

Who made the separation?

Who listened to the lying larks?

Say, "I did", and be done with it,

For Rainbows do not repent,

Nor do they ever look back.

We have built a new world, you and I.

Before the beginning we set its stones,

Each of us according to true love's desire and intent.

The Seers, the Speakers, the Formers,

The Hearers, the Tellers, the Readers,

The Bearers, the Watchers, the Imagers, all

Spontaneously combusting in the true divine order of becoming,

Time and again, time after time, time out of mind.

LRS November 1999


So I said to myself, “Self, what if we are takin’ this thing called living in physical reality, way, way, way too seriously - WAY! I’m not saying’ Hitler meant well, nor do I want to upset anyone’s wah (cosmic consciousness), intrude on anyone’s idea of bliss, or step on any one of anyone’s seven habits, but...

“LI-EH! Don’t you be tellin’ the folks you ain’t intending to mess with their wah because with every breath you be takin,’ Bay-bay, you be messin’ with someone’s idea of wah, and the sooner you accept that little factoid, and trust your own take on your own wah, the sooner you’re gonna rest in your own wah-a-wah-toosie!”

i Well, well, well, well. Let’s get together and we’ll go for a walk in the park.

Oh Lordy! This is too big... too vast… and I’ll be just damn diggered if I’m formin’ a non-profit corporation around myself as a result of my take on my reality.

“Trust me Doll, you can be rest-a-sured no one’s gonna be joinin’ the church-o-you.”

Well that’s a relief! I want to convey what I want to convey and not feel like I have to OD or repent in the process. Lenny, Lenny, Lenny, where are you when I need you! It has gotten like so politically incorrect just to plain BE around here. And you, Jesus, are you smacking your head even now and mumbling to yourself, “Was it something I said?”

“Take a breath, Baby. That’s right. Now tell them what you want to tell them, and then just tell them. You are merely reminding them of what they already know... that control is an illusion... that they can let go of the hand rails, for in truth there is nothing that needs to be controlled. Remind them that going with the flow is an idea whose time is always now.”

i Remember ree-mem-mem-ree-mem-o-mem-ber...

It’s true! All of us, like globally... every single one of us is in the process of creating a new reality for ourselves, because the one we’ve been creating for the last eon or four is a quart low on remembering that we are the real Creators in the deal.

Why would anyone believe that statement? I mean, who died and made me such an authority?

“Baby, Honey, Tookie-Bookie, we haven’t even gotten through the first page of this thing, and already you are yanking our chain. Free fall for a couple of pages. Come on Baby... take my hand, NOW.”

One of the results of all these eons of amnesia is that our world is pervaded with every kind of religion, psychology, astrology, biology and stuff to smoke, that we can think of, just to justify our separation from all things gloriously ‘We’.

Talk about a bunch of creative types on this planet that would be us. We’ve created the Jews, the Christians, the Buddhists, The Hindus, The Dodgers, The Lakers and Max Factor. We’ve got every kind of religion a person could want, to help us relax about how afraid we are to remember that we are as dead, now, as we will ever be.

Maybe we should ease in to dead. Dead is huge.

“It’s not two pages yet.”

Right. How do we do it? How do we accomplish this complex, very creative bunch of acts? We invented something called belief systems. Someone gets a good idea, we create physical matter around it until it takes on a life of its own, and then we put it on the kitchen table and bow down to it because it’s perfect and we ain’t.

What I’m trying to say here is that we filter every second of our day through beliefs, and those beliefs are quite affecting of our reality. And forget about blaming them like we like to blame everything on something or someone other than ourselves, which we are not to blame, either.

So many things to blame for our reality. So little time. And forget self pity and suffering badges. I’m telling you, Shakespeare was right. All the world’s been a stage this whole time, and we are all in the process of remembering that very wondrous fact.

We are people who have lived in plastic bags, with the twisties tied very tight, for a very long time, and now we are starting to loosen the hold of our twisties and let the glory of us out of the bag, and dare to walk on our OWN water, not someone else’s. How’s that for the understatement of the Millennium?

“Twisties?”

You got a problem with that?

“No... I’m plotzzing from how funny you are.”

We, Twinkie, we. As a result of loosening the tie on my twisty I am experiencing a more expanded me, and since it’s not being in any way, any thing but a very real unfolding experience, I want to tell you about it and demystify any boogie men that you may have in your closet about the subject of the great beyond and your place in it.

“Tell them about the Shift first so they’ll have a nice foundation to rest their wah upon.”

A shift in consciousness is taking place in our world right now and is completed, but that world is about 70 or so years away from manifesting in our time zone now…time is simultaneous – more on that later. I am choosing to align with this shift in consciousness, now, by moving through, thus dissipating the force of many beliefs that say I can’t live long enough to be in not only that brave new world, but the brave new world I am choosing to remember that I create NOW.

Excuse us, could you repeat that back to me because I know I was speaking English, but I’m not sure what I just said?

“Sure, Babe. You just said that you are choosing to remember your glorious you in this now of your now by accepting rather than kicking against the pricks and other restraining beliefs that you chose as challenges in your life, and in so doing, automatically lend energy to the global shift in consciousness that is already completed but is 70 or so years away from actualizing in your physical world.

You also expressed your desire to partake in that world when it happens, and, knowing you at this moment in your time, you are also praying big-time that someone perfects liposuction by then.”

Did you have to mention the liposuction part? Now everyone will know I don’t get it entirely, and you know how I am about what others think about me not getting it entirely.

“Don’t worry. You are remembering that you came in with it, more fully every day. You are not in school by the way. You do not occupy a lowly dimension nor is there a past you need to pay for over and over and over again, or at all. But since you have convinced yourselves that you have issues to overcome, this is your reality. You, Cupcake, are choosing to dismantle that old energy and get on with living.”

Gee. That would be such a nice break if I really, really remembered that.

“Like I said, “You are ALL moving in this direction, so relax and smile. There are no secrets so you might as well stop hiding from even you.”

Remembering is an idea whose time has come, time and again, time after time, and we all do it, all the time. But at this point in time many of us don’t remember that we do, because we simply don’t pay attention to our moments.

I had a personal, not to mention intense, encounter with the great beyond and ended up in a Christian Church for 25 years because I believed that I encountered a person named Jesus. And this Jesus, (who I had not exactly persecuted my whole life but certainly took rather lightly), was the first and only Son of God... OOPS... so who remembered then what I remember now?

I’ve changed my mind. I can’t do this.

“Breathe, Baby. Count to ten. You have a right to express your reality.”

Oh well. Who cares whose wah I end up in on Amazon.com? I chose to be me, and you chose to be you. I’m just suggesting that remembering who the REAL choice makers are in the deal is an option, and that you and I are not cosmic doodie, the devil or the spawn of some prehistoric pond.

We are at this very second, the moment-by-moment creators of our own so-vast-you-could-faint-world, not to mention wondrous, gloriously, uniquely inviolate, and yes, Martha Stewart, really divine.

We have purposefully chosen to be forgetful of our true vastness and wonder, so we can have the purity and the fullness of the experience of being separated from our purity and fullness. I mean its one thing for a rich man to hang with hoboes, and quite another for a hobo to be a hobo, right? We are all rich men who have forgotten we are rich, and when I say rich I’m not talkin’ rich with money or stuff. I’m talkin’ rich with a knowing that replaces fear.

In other words, it has sort of slipped our minds that we really don’t NEED anything because anything we desire is ours for the creating but we have separated ourselves from remembering that little point for such a long time that it ain’t that simple to remember, at this point, which is one of the points of why I am writing this book. For me, this is where the rubber of trusting meets the road of my reality.

When I left the cocoon of Christianity I went through a period of not exactly knowing if I was going to die and go to hell, die and go to Heaven, or die and not go anywhere. At least when I believed in Jesus I knew that no matter what, I was going to die and go to Heaven. It got a little iffy when I switched from Jesus to me.

Oy, I bet there are a few Jews reading this part right now who are secretly throwing up from me betraying the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob to become a Goy.

“No Darling. You are throwing up from thinking other people are thinking anything but tha so far they are liking this book, except for the part about you becoming a Goy, and who can blame them.”

I love validation from me, you.

“Well of course you do, Darling. I be you, and you be me, and we be quite together.”

Let’s face it. Religion has cornered the market on “The Great Beyond” for a long time, and in my opinion, the NEW RELIGION of the NEW AGE is just as religious as any other OLD AGE religion, except in the NEW RELIGION of the NEW AGE, you do get to screw around more than I allowed myself to in the OLD RELIGION of the OLD AGE. And don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice change, but it’s still that OLD TIME religion to me. Something outside of me is the creator of miracles, and there is some ultimate goal to achieve, or some more perfect place, or someone else way, way, way, more perfect than me to become. And don’t forget that money doesn’t grow on trees, and if you break the rules you are going to get punished.

“Not unless you believe you will be.”

And who doesn’t? The Seth information shook me up big time. From my years in Christianity I had a pretty healthy fear of my human will and was forever checking my every thought and deed at the door then flushing myself down the toilet in fear and condemnation if I said something I perceived, or I perceived someone else perceived, was inappropriate.

In other words, my dirty rat of a human will was always suspect and needed to die and be resurrected. In my case, several times a minute! The very idea that MY will was the REAL God in my deal, and that I create my entire reality, not the Devil, or Jesus, or some cast in stone, pre-ordained destiny outside of me, was very liberating news. I devoured all the Seth material I could get my hands on with gusto and it only took me two years instead of twenty five to hit the same wall.

I recognized truth, but I knew I still conceptualized rather than KNEW it. Not that I did not have moment points of knowing/remembering throughout my life, we all do. I just isolated my knowing/remembering into a very small box and labeled it either God meeting me from far, far away in Heaven where everyone is perfect, or the Holy Spirit talking to me from inside of me. But even “It” was made of the same stuff of God, who was far, far away in Heaven where everyone is perfect. Now I recognize an aspect of the same feeling when I see a pair of shoes I love, and who builds religions around shoes?

“Vogue Magazine?”

Back in the box, Casper.

“Too late.”

Please ignore the Vapor behind the screen as I continue on here.

It’s interesting, the difference between getting something intellectually and knowing it. We all know the difference. A hunch, a feeling of calm, that still, small voice versus the constant clutter of “Us Central.”

Our intellect has carried the entire ball for us for so long that it ain’t lettin’ go of the handrails without fighting the part of us that knows everything is just fine, just so it can balance out it’s abject fear of being separated for so long, from remembering that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

I’m turning blue here, Twink. Ya got a bag I can breathe in?

“Relax, Sweetie Pie. Long sentences born of beliefs about needing to be perfect are quite automatic. Automatic responses are, well, AUTOMATIC. Even NOW you have automatic responses of trust, but you are so used to distracting yourself with mondo stimuli, that if a house does not fall on your head you don’t pay attention. Continue on with your adorable self, Babe. Trust you. You will not betray your glorious, hip hop, do not stop, drive for the mostest, coolest, value fulfillment for little ol’ you, self.”

i When somebody loves you it’s no good unless YOU love you - ALL the way...

I really miss having Frank Sinatra around my physical reality. Ella too, but the good news for me is that Tony Bennett is still around.

i Tony, Tony, Tony… Only you, you’re the only one I see, forever...

And Mr. Wooly, Mr. Wooly, Mr. Wooly - one hen, two ducks, three squawking geese, four limerick oysters... I used to know the whole flow by heart. I saw Cinderfella and the Geisha Boy twenty times each.

“Don’t stop now, Baby. You’re on a roll. So what if you love Jerry Lewis —always have, always will and you want to smack Laura Schlessenger and Judge Judy. They’re all symbols, Babe. Laura and Judy are the tip of your sphincter symbol. Somebody has to be, right? Blink a couple of times. Notice your own flow, and try not to piss in the wind as you notice.”

How exactly does one notice one’s flow and not get piss in one’s face from one’s wind, O’ Swa-of-me? Swa-of-me… how I love ya, how I love ya, my dear old Swa-of-me? Just asking.

“Trust you. You are not the only one who wants to punch Laura and Judy out.”

Yeah, but doesn’t acceptance mean I will not have a reaction? Never mind a strong desire to punch anyone who does not jive with my jive.

“Partially.”

Well, that’s depressing. Putting a cork on my spontaneity is just more of that old time religion to me, so what’s my point?

“Spontaneity has an automatic emotional reaction to everything and its own divine order. But until you allow your own spontaneity and stop putting the brakes on it, you will never come to remember and trust YOU in every second of your day, from the most mundane/boring to the most exciting/depressed/happy.”

i I got me in-between the Devil and the deep blue sea....

And speaking of my old devil nature and trusting IT?

“Your creation, Jezebel. You forgot you are wondrous and glorious. And to justify your choice to separate your true blue connection to the truth that it is all gloriously YOU, you created a gaggle of really powerful, (not to mention extremely inventive and ingenious), religious and scientific belief systems that mostly spring from the idea that deep down you are alone in this world.

Now you ALL begin to suspect that you are not, nor is anyone else alone in ANY world. Have you noticed the increase in extraterrestrial sightings lately? They are all your glorious creations. There is NOTHING outside of you, PERIOD. Really Babe, inner space is way more interesting than outer space when you slow down long enough to pay attention.”

That made me car sick. Back to those rules according to Laura. If it’s Wednesday, it must not be the day to have a spontaneous one night stand with a certain celebrity that was so intensely passionate and exciting that it made my suffering the agony of knowing I would never see him again, actually worth it.

“Ah, and this be another of our points, my leetle Dove. That’s the story of, that’s the glory of, being essence in flesh. Let us view those moments of passion, then despair, as your very efficient way of jettisoning yourself out of a potentially miserable probability. Remember, Pookie, he wore Hushpuppies, right?”

Phew, thanks. Almost forgot that part.

“Besides, you don’t really hate Laura and Judy. You know they have their own control issues, and it takes one to know two, neh? You bring a nice balance to the mix by writing this funny tome that pokes a little fun at the sanctity of control.”

Bringing a balance to my own mix is quite enough, thank you. Like Carrie Fisher, I did not go to college long enough to be qualified to write a book, but then again, she did anyway. But then again, my mother is Jewish so that would make me a real Jew. On the other hand, I saw “Singin’ in the Rain” ten times, yet on the other hand...

“Count to 10 slowly. Look around. Focus on this moment of NOW. Smile. Relax. You’re upsetting your own wah.”

Thanks Wing Po.

“You are quite welcome. Now,as to your worthiness issues. Do you not, in part, accept yourself in ways you never dreamed you would?”

Yeth Mathtah. The thing is, it’s not just me I’m accepting. I got a few other influences goin’ on at all times that lend energy to my deal, and trust me, so do you. I almost called this book “Multidimensional Reality for Dummies”. Oy, I’m getting nervous here, Wing. Here comes the part where I lose folks.

“Excuse me Sybil, are you now responsible for mass reality? As difficult as it may be to GRASP, it truly, really, honestly matters not what anyone thinks of your take on reality. Go ahead with your bad, individual self, and tell them your experiences in discovering your multidimensional YOU.”

· I am, a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, a poet, not to mention

· And a close personal friend of Seth’s. (We are fish mongers together in Holland, and I am still “fishing” for other connections with him);

· In San Francisco, a lighthouse keeper’s wife on Pigeon Point; architect, little girl who died in the 1906 earthquake/fire, an Indian fisherman on Yerba Buena Island, and I think the guy that landscaped Golden Gate Park. No kidding — I love San Francisco — I mean I have a serious “Jones” for the place and have all my life. (So nice to know why).

· In France, a courtesan; a man and woman who are lovers and on the wrong side of the French Revolution, (depending on your point of view), and several other people there who I have not taken the time to investigate, but I now understand why I have always loved Paris even though I’ve never been there;

· A Hawaiian lady who has a zillion kids. It just came to me one day that her name is Eolani, and I understood why I’ve got this thing for lau-lau and long rice not to mention, the Sons of Makana and the Islands of Hawaii;

· A gay guy in Vienna who is a teacher/student of Goethe — I saw him clear as day, too. I think his name is Michael, and he kinda looks like me. He wore small, silver wire rimmed glasses, and he was wearing a pin stripped shirt. He was looking sideways out a window all cute and quiet-like.

· A Creole woman named Daisy in New Orleans. Even now as I write, I can see her pink house with the long, white shutters and the sun casting pretty shadows thorough a lacy-looking tree at her front door. I was leaving the gym one morning and pondering this guy I had just met who is from New Orleans. The name Daisy popped into my head and that feeling I get when I know this is that still, small voice thing goin’ on. That feeling was wrapped all around the name Daisy. Later I saw her and her house;

· A tall, handsome blonde guy named Jasper who is a future me in around 2075. I met him in a dream not too long ago, and he showed me around a house high on a hill overlooking a beautiful lake. The walls were was slightly askew like we changed our rigid view of plumb.

· More than one individual in Scotland - I feel the changing weather patterns there and long for them all the time – lots of green, windy places.

· An old woman in Dover, England. I caught myself singing, “There’ll be blue birds over, the white cliffs of Dover” and realized that I had been humming that tune all my life. Once I did, the rest just fell in to place. It’s so fun to do this.

· A very ancient looking Chinese man who I think makes porcelain. I’ve got a natural eye for export china and can see, and almost feel, a small blue and white vase of the T’ang Dynasty as I write. How did I get that one? Easy. The words from James Clavel’s “ Noble House” - “The flesh and bones of porcelain” jumped out at me, and the rest tumbled right along;

· One individual who was around during the time of Jesus but didn’t hang around with him;

· A zealot in the First Century whose fervor helped create that “new religion” of Christianity – he was called the first martyr of the church – yeah I can see that.

· A gray, furry guy from another world, not to mention several other, other-dimensional, extra-terrestrial types that I am not that interested in remembering right now, (although I have always loved Star Trek and Arthur C. Clarke, and I do grok with the best of them);

And the list just keeps on comin’ as I relax and allow myself to notice my moments.

i Once I had several secret loves... YIKES!!!

“Jee-zuz, Babe, you are funny! Glad you decided to be you. Don’t stop now. The ones who will throw stones at you are the ones who love you or might be your dentist in another time zone. Like I will be reminding you throughout this book, it matters not what anyone thinks of you in any reality. Let’s have fun with fear, shall we?”

Oh yeah. Right. Fun with fear. You “Not-dead Guys” are like so out of touch. I live in a world of absolute cause and effect with ghosts and mental problems. There is no place for the likes of me.

“Yet here you are. Maybe you should take a moment and pinch your glorious you just to make sure you are not dreaming.”

Smart ass.

“Tsk, tsk. Speaking ill of the not dead again. RELAX. Breathe. Don’t try to funnel your vastness through a straw. You are not used parts. You are you, and the Chinaman is himself. You begin NOW to remember him and the rest of y’all. Simple. Don’t call the Mayo Clinic or the Edgar Cayce Institute. You are not losing your marbles, my Darling. You are finding them. Let us move to another subject, shall we?”

I’m too scared to go on.

“Our very next subject. As I just said, this physical reality you ALL have created, individually thus en masse, is quite real. You, Miss Glory, are choosing to align with this global shift in consciousness by moving through many intertwining layers of beliefs that have created quite a bit of fear in your life.

Your job, so to speak, is to notice, identify and choose not to align with what you do not want to align with. In other words, simply decide to participate or not. It is merely a choice. Trust YOU. We are quite understanding of your present difficulty. We are YOU, remember?”

Step one is to notice what you are creating. Step two is to notice and identify the beliefs that are at play, so to speak. Step three is to identify and turn your gaze from the affectingness of those beliefs, and Step four is to realize that you may freely reconfigure belief systems any way you choose, because you remember that you created them in the first place.

A shift in consciousness. A shift in perception. A slight movement of your gaze into your present moment is quite enough to release tremendous energy, NOW, in whichever direction you are so choosing.”

Wait a minute! EXCUSE ME ADOLPH, AFTER MUCH CONSIDERATION, I’VE DECIDED NOT TO MIX IN!

“I am not suggesting to you that you say to yourselves, “Oh, I think I will experience extreme unhappiness and extreme hurtfulness today.” No. I am not saying that you make those kinds of choices knowingly, in a manner of speaking.

For now it is quite enough that you remember your NOW. Do not concern yourself with the past or even five minutes into your future. NOW: To be and notice that you IS is quite sufficient.”

Okay. NOW I’m really scared to go on. I’ll never be able to eat at a Jerry’s in this town again! I will be accused of anti-Semitism which is ludicrous because my mother and father are Jewish. So according to those rules, I am a bona fide, living, breathing Jew, and I didn’t like the kvetching in their own hell part in “What Dreams May Come”, either.

“Excuse us? Kvetching, in their own hell part in ‘What Dreams May Come’?”

That’s what I said. You got a problem with that MOFO?!

“I am marveling at the wonder of our humor.”

Why is it that at times you sound like a proton speaking English?

“Because some of us are.”

Whatever. Anyway, what kind of a world would it be if we all stopped kvetching? Well for one thing we would have to find something else to do and we will, but for NOW, you deal with what makes you kvetch, and so will I.

We have enough to do individually without monitoring the kvetching of others. I was crazy about the movie “What Dreams May Come”, until the part where they started walking on all those kvetching faces. That’s anti-Semitism if you ask me!

I’m saying we have a choice, and adding insult to injury is not one of mine, especially at this point in my own bridge-building-back-to-me. After a lifetime of monitoring and being affected by the activity of everyone but me, (because I forgot I create all of my reality), I’m stopping my own train every chance I remember, and I’m choosing to stay in the moment, and notice what I’m kvetching about, if I am at the time.

“And in so doing, quite automatically, lending energy to this global shift in consciousness.”

Quite. There are huge masses of beliefs related to growing old and nasty like your Aunt Ceil or Uncle Moshe —enormous vultures that suck youth and carry big bottles of greps water and vitamin pills. I’m telling you, seventy years to actualize this shift in consciousness in this physical dimension of ours may not be long enough at the rate we’re accepting the huddled kvetching, grepsing, vitamin- popping masses of ourselves.

“And thank you very much our beloved Aimee Semple McPherson-stein! Is this not one of the points of this book and pear down mon Aimee, as you so eloquently put it? The acceptance of the huddled, kvetching masses starts with your own acceptance of your huddled, kvetching you.

Relax and continue to turn your gaze to what makes you kvetch and leave Uncle Moshe and Aunt Ceil to their own kvetching devices.”

Yeah, but that movie generated a lot of fear. The way that the Grim Reaper was emphasized just fortified our separation from ourselves. People need to hear the truth that there really is nothing to fear because we created it, and we can reconfigure that energy and…

“NEED? NEED? They NEED you to tell them? Snap out of it, Baby! Your days of saving souls are way over now. It is quite enough to accept, thus automatically “save”, in your quite limited terms, YOU, NOW.”

Easy for you to say, Suckah. You remember more than I do.

“We shall not quibble, Chicken. You are doing just fine. Where were we... oh yeah... multidimensional reality.”

Wait. Do you swear that the Universally-Proactive-Oneness-Robots aren’t going to get pissy if I say what I feel and swear at the same time?

“I doubt it. Think of it this way, Baby. You are pioneering a new reality for you. You do not have to justify your movement, EVEN TO YOU! You are walking on your own wah, not anyone else’s. Neh?”

Ah wilderness. The highs, the lows, the failures, the self sabotages - there is an alternative to manic depression, and it’s not Prozac. It’s manic depression.

“NOW, NOW, NOW! Remember your choice to snap back into your NOW. Do you want to be depressed?”

Do you want to drop dead, and kiss my ass on your way out the door?

“Done that. Am there. Sticks and stones only break your bones, Baby, not mine.”

Right. I hate it when you’re right. I should have stayed in religion. It’s so much easier to petition an outside god than an inside one.

“Are we having a hard day, Baby?”

Yeah, really hard. I just want to write a book about my take on my reality because I know there are a few people out there that will laugh and lighten up on themselves, and I wouldn’t mind doing some lecturing. But what if people make ME, instead of THEM, something neither of us really are, because we are way more than we think but what’s the point if we don’t remember that we are? And excuse me while I project in to the awful “ahead” for a change.

“Is this your choice? Nanny, Nanny, Nanny Goat, it’s not your choi-oice. You know you do not want to be the Mother Theresa of a new reality so pick thee up, dust thee off and continue on, Darlin’.

Trust YOU. You are not alone. Come on, snap out of it. Even Nicodemos needs love too. How long did you hide yourself from you and feign madness, my Darling?”

Did? Feign?

i What makes a lady of 80, (excuse me 50), go out on the loose... it’s just Elmer’s tune... we all sing Elmer’s tune...

Jeez, this religious fear-of-death-life-saying-something-inappropriate-thing is hard to shaka-shaka.

“Go hit some golf balls, and try not to hurt yourself, okay? When you come back we will continue our discussion about your multidimensional discoveries.”

i For my love… oh I will do anything...

“Well sung. Ah to be in Manhattan now that you have come out of the closet at last.”

I always thought it was because of my girlfriend, Judith Bonnie Rubinfeld Jackson, that people thought I was from New York. She was born in Brooklyn and had a huge impact on my early teenage and young adult years in the sixties and early seventies. Then I discovered that Beatrice Kaufmann, the wife of George S., was another life of mine, and the chippies fell in to place for me. I found this out in a used book store one day. I was gleaning through a copy of George’s biography, by Howard S. Teichman and saw Beatrice’s picture. We have the same kind of weird, fluffy Jewish hair, with even the same wave in the front, bingo I just knew she was me.

Now I understand why during my first visit to Manhattan, I never got lost. I just knew my way around town. I can’t explain it. Now I can explain it. And now that I’ve explained, you’re right, it’s crazy but it’s true. You do not have to be a Zen Master to remember yourself. Just trust what you notice in your moments.

The veils between time zones are very thin and getting thinner as this shift in consciousness picks up speed. What we call schizophrenia today we will call remembering tomorrow, and I already am.

Beatrice, are you as depressed as I am?

“No, Honey. I’m dead, remember?”

Don’t mess with me, Beatrice. I’m talkin’ simultaneous time here so don’t hide, coz I know you are here and now, too, somehow, and I’m just trying to get a feel for what’s going on with me and why I feel depressed.

“I bet it’s the friggin’ Nun. Do you speak French?”

Mared, that’s it. Besides, I think she’s Italian.

“I can’t believe we have a nun in the mix. Definitely a courtesan, but a nun? Okay, so George and I were not that religious. In fact the temple we were members of was so Reform it was called “Our Lady of the Hill” by all the Orthodox Jews in town, but still, a nun?”

Trust me Bea, I know how you feel. I just did twenty five years as one of five Jews in a Christian group.

“The nun wasn’t enough for us?”

Guess not. Leave us alone Beatrice. It all comes out in our wah. Anyway, I heard the nun had an affair with a Jesuit, and we both know that you and George varfed around pretty good. So like we have managed to be true to our spontaneous selves more times than either of us can remember, right?”

“Right. Thanks. I feel better now.”

You’re dead, stop it. Like I said, we blink in and out of remembering all the time. And since about the turn of the 20th Century we have begun to remember more than we ever have before, because we are tired of experiencing eons of being separated from our wonder, from all the forgetting that we really are quite wondrous – I know many of you would like me to edit that last run on sentence. No.

The more I remember my own wonder the more I remember my choices. And I choose enough with the hurting, killing and general negative licking, sucking and constant media promoting of fear, generated by not remembering that there is nothing to be afraid of, if that’s what we so choose.

I never liked unhappy endings. Speaking of which, I couldn’t believe the ending of that movie “City of the Angels”. I almost asked for my money back. I hate sitting through movies that jack me up with hope, then smash me to smithereens on the rocks of death and despair at the almost very end of the movie. Exhausting. Who made the rule that death, dying and sadness is a precursor to the great beyond anyway?

“You are beginning to remember that YOU did.”

Well, in that case... I am making me an Angel who flies from Montgomery... and sad endings... I can’t do this. Fear is an institution.

“Nyet, Doll. Fear is a choice, remember? Don’t get caught up in your own fear of fear, Franklin Baby. Keep on keepin’ on here, and let us continue.”

I am not having a religious experience with my great beyond. I am choosing to remember how vast and glorious I really am, NOW, and not attach religious, outside-of-me reasons, or gods, or any other stuff to what I am remembering. I am remembering the truth of a way more expanded me, and that truth is, indeedy do, setting me free more than I ever thought possible.

So, since fear is no longer my choice, and religion has a lot of fear and other requirements attached to it to get me to the same place, I am getting to NOW on a moment by moment basis, I am personally done with cow-tow-ing to religion or anything else that scares me, period.


“Oooh Baby! That was deep! Where did you get that flow?”

Well, I could say it was Beatrice. I mean she was no schlep in the writing department in her own right, right? Yet my gut feeling is that it’s me; the aware expanded version but still the unique and adorable me. Who knows how my heart beats or why I do me like I do, do, do? It’s too much information if you ask me.

The main thing is that I continue to allow and accept all of me, and let the flow, flow. And you do the same, and we’ll all meet together later and laugh about it, which we all do now anyway, but that’s in the part of us that blinks in not out, and excuse me, do I look like Jung, Einstein or Deepak Chopra?

Trust me. I’m cuter, but quantum physics is not my area of interest, so go read those guys if you’re interested in the math.

Excuse me Casper, but do I have to agree with Deepak Chopra? Although he is pretty cute, and he does like some of our favorite parts of England, and hmmm... I wonder if I know him from somewhere. See how easy it is to remember someone who you may not agree with, now, but whose bones you might be jumping in another time zone?

“You have the attention span of a flea, which is one of my favorite things about you, by the way. You just answered your own question. You don’t have to agree or even like Dr. Chopra. Who said you have to like and agree with everyone anyway?”

Everyone?

“Ahh... feeling guilty for automatically feeling guilty, again?”

Yes I am.

“Why?”

Oh get real! It’s bad to want to punch someone who I don’t agree with.

“And what beliefs shall we be identifying NOW?”

Lack of acceptance of me, period, in all of my preferences and responses, at all times, no blanks.

“Bingo. Let us now discuss acceptance of beliefs in depth. Think of yourself as an onion. An onion has many layers...”

Are we gonna go there with the parables about onions with layers and the uniqueness of snowflakes? Because if we are, I need to put you on hold for a minute and get a barf bag.

My mom is fond of reminding me that when I get depressed, it’s not cancer. And she’s right. But at the moment I’m experiencing depression, trying to remember that “… at least it’s not cancer”, triggers guilt, and who needs guilt on top of depression? It’s too depressing, know what I mean?

“Ah... beliefs about mothers, and fathers, and sisters, and brothers and relationships, relationships, relationships are many layered, are they not, Tookie?”

Oh no you don’t, Twinker. I’m not goin’ there in this book. If I live through this book maybe I’ll touch on that subject in the next book, okay?

“Chicken.”

Okay, fine. Part of remembering our wonder involves remembering that we chose our parents for very specific, personal to us, reasons, and they chose to let us. That’s it. The whole thing with thinking that we own our children, or need to feel obligated to our parents, or our pets even, is not exactly what this shift in consciousness is all about. It’s about remembering that we ARE, and that WE create our world, and it’s not our parents fault if our world is not wonderful to us, nor is it our fault if we don’t line up to their expectations. Expectation is a belief. Responsibility is a belief. Control is an illusion.

“Now, was that so bad?”

I’m ignoring you. Go back to Heaven where all this shit is worked out already.

“You are in Heaven or not, NOW!”

I’m ignoring you. I love Goldie Hawn. I always have. Once, during a particularly intense wave of depression, I read an interview with her and she said that after six years of therapy she decided to stop suffering and ended her therapy. My kind of blonde. We were probably flamenco dancers in Madrid together or something.

“You are.”

Will you stop!

“I’m not kidding.”

Okay, fine. Me and Goldie Hawn are flamenco dancers in Madrid. I still get depressed. Attaching lots of reasons to negative energy like depression only fortifies it. Could you expand what I mean by that? You’re the big non-physical authority around here.

“Wait. Lemmie get my blue and white beaded yarmulke, and check my wah. Okay, now what you are expressing with regard to what YOU in this dimension call negative energy is what WE in non-physical reality simply call energy.

There is no good or bad in the land of non-physical reality. It’s all energy, period and you may choose whichever direction you wish to direct that energy. Most times however, because you are not paying attention to what you are doing, you bounce your energy off yourselves and each other, and continue to be spinning, spinning, spinning around your hamster cages.”

Slow down, Pal. You’re starting to sound like me.

“I am you. I will however, continue with this explanation to clarify. You have created very, very, very strong individual, thus mass beliefs, regarding what is good and what is bad and you are ALL becoming aware of not only each other’s beliefs but all the individuals in your multidimensional mix and their beliefs as well.”

That’s sobering. Wait... so I’m me, Lynda. I will always retain my identity as Lynda, right?

“Correct.”

As me, Lynda, I have beliefs that I align with and am diminishing the thickness of, right?

“Sí”.

And what you are telling me is that moving through those beliefs is multiplied by the beliefs of other people in my multi-dimensional mix?

“A-yup.”

Oy. So the tip of my ice berg is my Shinto Samurai in 18th Century Japan Beatrice in Manhattan who is a Reformed Jew, and then we got the witch in Scotland, and who knows what she does to cats. A bit boggling, Twink. I be too vast for me.

“A simple movement of your gaze into your NOW automatically affects all of you, NOW, so relax. Do you understand?”

Yeah, but only because I’m in the process of accepting beliefs, and I do indeed feel this liberty and growing trust you are speaking of. What about the guy who thinks that letting go of good and bad is going to create a free for all and wreak havoc?

“What have you discovered so far?”

I have discovered that I’m still worried about what the other guy is worried about. And now I’ve got everyone else in my mix to worry about and what they are worrying about, but forget it. I AM NOW!”

“Bingo, Baby. Now take a moment and pat yourself on the back for correctly identifying the beliefs related to the large insidious belief system of DUPLICITY, or lack of trust of self, or invalidation of self, or thinking that what the other guy is thinking or doing is more important, or has any kind of power over what you are thinking and doing.

And while you are thinking and doing all of that, throw in the identification of guilt for daring to exist without a note from your Doctor, or at all, and you got the general idea and a gold star.”

Shit, Batman. How many gold stars do I need to get myself free?

“None. This is not a contest. There are no winners. You are all gold stars who have forgotten you are gold stars, and now you are remembering you are, and as you remember a little more than you do now, you will remember that gold has intrinsic value and needs nothing but itself to be valuable.”

I love how that feels. So safe. So real. So how do I just hold this feeling forever?

i You DON’T GOT TO know when to hold ‘um... know when to fold ... know when to walk away... know when to run...

“This dimension of yours is very complex. You are at the midway point of changing your reality from the effects of eons of separation from your glorious selves. And in this, you are all quite accomplishing at moving through your layers of beliefs or issues. My suggestion is to relax.”

So like we should not take everything so personal, right?

“Partially.”

Give me a break, Casper. It’s all personal. No, that’s not even close. It’s all interconnected and very, very INTIMATE to me.

“Ahhh... interrupting Gawd again?”

Oh Jeez.

“Now, now, now. You do not have to justify yourself, even to you, so relax, Baby. Experiencing emotion is one of the reasons you all created this physical dimension. Allowing for a free flow of your emotions is, in a manner of speaking, the ideal. Blocking the spontaneous expression of yourself creates…”

GEYSERS!

“Very good, although there is no good or bad.”

For a long time I aligned mightily with the belief that suffering was noble. The more you suffered the more badges you got. Overcoming suffering in our society is a mark of integrity. After twenty five years of suffering in Christianity I got out and spent six more years suffering in the multi-level marketing business where overcoming then telling your sad story to depressed people like me is highly regarded as the most profitable way, the truth and the light.

In the process of all this noble suffering I was so focused on my pain I could not see that I had other choices. I exploded myself out of the church and the multi-level marketing business. I made such a scene and burned so many bridges that I’m still a little nervous when I think about how many golden rules of appropriate conduct I broke. It was worth it.

My suggestion to you is to do what you gotta do to trust you. And trust you, that you can trust you, because whether you do it now or later, you are going to be the one to change how the rules affect you.

There are a lot of beliefs around having a vested interest and obligation to one another, and they are simply that, beliefs. They are not cast in stone. I know, coulda fooled you, right?

“Careful, Zelda, your intent is showing.”

I do have an intent, and so do you. Our intent has nothing to do with a divine purpose, or a divine destiny, or a cast-in-stone karma that is automatically attached to us each time we choose to be born. The probabilities of us are endless, yet we usually do pick a handful to actualize in each life. There are no rules, merely choices of experience.

I chose a gaggle of challenges related to religious-type fears in this life of mine, and I am working through them in a way that aligns with my specific intent and desire. Part of that intent and desire is: HOLD THE RELIGIOUS RULES AND PASS THE REAL GLORIOUS WONDER OF ME!

“Well now we know how you feel about religion, don’t we?”

Not quite. I’m bein’ nice.

“Let us not split hairs or churches, but let us rather continue to view our wonder and wax some more elephants about our fearful moments, shall we?”

Phew! Got distracted there for a minute. Thanks.

“You are quite welcome.”

I recently discovered a first century, Christian zealot in my multidimensional mix - ‘splains a lot to me about my moments of fervor. If you’ll just excuse me a minute, I think I hear him now.

“And doth not the love of our beloved Savior and Lord constraineth thee?”

It doth, Darling, more than I ever thought possible, yet in a different way now.

“And this be?”

It be that that ‘Christ-in-me-hope-of-glory’ is in actuality me, and I don’t hope it any more. I am dealing with the reality of IT.

“Ahhh... and this be the reason you are spaking with such boldness. The Spirit that raised our beloved Lord from the dead doth indeed reside mightily in thee. And you still think you need liposuction?”

Not nearly as much as I used to, and who cares because we lend each other energy, and it all works out, and we were right all along, my love. There is no end. I guess my last question is, how can you stand the smell where you are?”

“What smell?”

Now that’s a shift in perception if ever I smelled one, Twinkie-poo.

“Correct, Cupcake. A shift in perception, a shift in consciousness. In other words, stink be in the nose of the beholder, OR NOT.”

Why does our beloved Zealot sound like Hamlet?

“Simple. Our zealot did a sort of mind meld with our Shakespearean actor because you don’t speak Hebrew.”

No wonder I won the Drama Award in Jr. High school. We have an “ACHTAH” in our mix.

“Several my Darling, including you, right NOW.”

I am almost done marveling at the heroes in and out of my multidimensional mix. I say almost because I still got this huge thing for Al Pacino’s lower lip and Robert DeNiro’s entire being.

“And always have, and always will. And do not confuse the wonder of physical manifestation with worshipping outside-of-you type gods.”

Oh goody. Al Pacino’s lower lip and Robert DeNiro’s entire being are mine forever and ever, Amen!

Heroes, villains and mostly regular Joes and Janes are who comprise the multidimensional mix of people like you and me. And each and every square speck of us is as wondrous, and holy, and inviolately unique as the speck standing next to us.

i Hey take a look at those gods doin’ their jobs keepin’ the sea lanes free. Up and at ‘um in the fight for people like you and me.

“Tell them about your Frankie dream.”

Oh Twink, I can’t. It’s so unspiritual and low-plane.

i Stick with you, Baby. You’re the guy that you came in with.

I dreamed that Frank Sinatra, Sharon Stone and I were in a room and Frank picked me instead of Sharon to hang out with. I really like Sharon Stone. She’s got noive. To me, she is the consummate Shiksa Goddess.

For a long time I thought I was a “B” person. I read somewhere that after years of being in “B” pictures, Sharon called her then manager, and in frustration said, “Maybe I should just quit. Her manager said, “Yeah, I think you should.” What did my favorite Shiksa Goddess say? “Fuck off! What I need is a NEW manager.”

Sharon remembered that she didn’t need anything but to click in to her own wonder, and she did. Makes me smile. She dood it her way... oh yeah... the dream.

So Frankie looks at me, and he looks at Sharon, and he picks me, and my phasors are on happy stun. Sharon is like smiling and doesn’t care, and why should she? Several people were also there, and each one had a different reaction. Some were happy for us. Some were not. I didn’t care. I was with Frank.

I had the feeling of being utterly safe and utterly loved. The dream was information from me, to me, that Frank was me, not Frank. It was also information to me that I am not the “How to remember that you are really YOU, not Frank, monitor”. I am the monitor of my own remembering, that I am me, not Frank. U B 2.

I loved who I thought was God, and Jesus, for a long, long, long, long time, and the feeling/knowing/rest experience I had in my Frank dream was exactly the same. And if you wanna argue semantics, g’head. I am personally done with dancing concepts related to the great beyond on the head of a pin.

“Bravo, my darling. Bravo for trusting your true, blue wonder.”

I create my reality, and you create yours. We each perceive our worlds through very different perceptions. VERY. Beliefs are what we filter our perceptions through.

Remembering our wonder is enough. What about good and evil? What about the rain forests? What about everything but you? Am I being selfish? Yes. Am I trying to bring back the Yuppie 80s? Nope. Then what am I doing? I’m paying attention to my still, small voice in my now and noticing what’s distracting me from trusting it, period. Simple? WAY simple.


I heard about a guy in Brazil who paints Renoirs with his toes. I don’t doubt his abilities. I also believe that a guy named Smith Higglesworth grew three sets of teeth at different times in his life because he had the faith to do it.

Personally, I’d rather not be depressed than paint Renoirs with my toes or grow three new sets of teeth. I’m a little burnt out on those kinds of miracles. Like virtual reality they jazz me for the moment, but what have I done for myself lately is like my big question NOW.

“And this is why we are spontaneously combusting this little tome, is it not?”

Yeah, but my sarcasm be seeping through the walls of my smile here, Twinkie, and being sarcastic is... oh never mind. Being sarcastic is, period.

“Now you touch one of our points of acceptance, and that is to BE, period, and TRUST, period, and ALLOW, period… a free flow of feelings, period.

There is no standard of conduct that you must strive to measure yourself against in the grand scheme. Yet now, as you are quite aware, there are many beliefs at play. You automatically feel them whenever you say what you mean, or mean what you say, and only small children and old people are allowed such luxuries. Like Millie. G’head, Baby.”

As I write, I am the caregiver for an 90 year old lady, named Millie. Until I came to Millie’s house I hadn’t watched television much. By much I mean hardly ever. Millie lives in front of the television. Ask me anything about what’s on television then ask me if I care. I don’t, but I am coming to accept that Millie’s life experience is her choice, and her beliefs are a moot point, and whether I like Judge Judy or not is too.

“Another gold star, my darling. Beliefs are neutral. Remembering that they are, dissipates their force.”

Why did such a brilliant, gorgeous, blonde babe like me take a job as a caregiver for a lady that I think invented the word kvetch? Suffice it to say that I came here to re-group and figure out the next steps for me and now I’m finishing this book and trusting me that I’m going to publish it and start a new life in a different direction. In the process I am giving myself abundant opportunities to view many beliefs related to duplicity, or lack of trust of self, devaluing of self, and VICTIM, VICTIM, VICTIM!

I am living what I write in this book, and aren’t we all. That I DO create ALL of my reality is less and less a CONCEPT to me everyday, and I am aware for the first time in my life that I do indeed have choices. And one of them is to stay in the moment, and relax, and the more I do that, the more I do that.

“In the day that you seek you with all your heart, you find you, every time, right Baby?”

Yep. Did I tell you I have an orange tabby girl cat named Gilda? Millie named her that because she’s golden and because of the Rita Hayworth movie. My Gilda is in kitty heaven here at Millie’s. She has a girlfriend named K.C. and a beautiful cat of color named Max, for a boyfriend. There are two great boxers named Rocky and Ginger in the back yard that are slobber-pusses. Gilda sticks her pink nose against the screen and hisses if the boxers come too close. She likes to think she’s a lion, which is probably because she also is.

My world is pretty rosy most of the time. When it’s not rosy it’s because I’m pushing myself because I still think I’m in a race. It’s hard to relax and simply trust the sweet, singular moment and appreciate it for what it is: a moment like no other will ever be, and an opportunity to look at what I am doing in that that moment and stop long enough to breathe and let the flow of me, flow.

Rocky Balboa I’m not. God forbid that any one thinks I’m writing some fa-cach-tah, thirty nine steps book on how I overcame suffering. And now I’m Pollyanna, right Baby?

“God forbid. Give them our GEE and HAW flow. It’s a pisser!”

Depression and fear are soul mates. They automatically pop up like clockwork. Most of us just live with them and don’t question their veracity. They are a part of life. I recently read that my generation of baby boomers has the distinction of being the most stressed-out, manic depressed generation ever in the history of generations.

My theory is that one of the reasons we are more stressed out is because many of us experienced a small window of time in which we were way, way, way free, and many of us are trying very, very, very hard to put a lid on that feeling because we believe that our liberty landed us dead or in rehab. It wasn’t our liberty. It’s what we filtered our liberty through.

And who can blame us for being a little stressed from all the years of stuffing ourselves into appropriate little boxes?

Now, where was I, Twinkie?

“Dropping LSD in Palm Springs on horseback in 1969.”

Oh yeah. My Gee and Haw Pisser Principle. Even as I write this book I am amazed at its brilliance, yet I’m afraid to seek the kind of publisher I know it deserves because:

· I don’t exactly remember, or care, when something is two paragraphs.

Then I swing my pendulum to:

· JUST DO IT! I gotta be brave and trust me NOW!

· And while I’m at it I think I’ll put myself through fat-free hell so when this book takes off like I always knew it would, I’ll be lookin’ good.

· But what if I look too good and attract some Prince Charming who thinks I’m hot, but the minute I show him the real me and gain two pounds he is history?

Do I need to go on and on?

“Wait... I can’t talk... I’m choking from laughing so hard! You got guts, Baby, G-U-T-S! Continue on with your real role playing, not manic depressed, God forbid, you.”

I am way not interested in aligning with psychological beliefs about manic depression or passive/aggressive behavior. What I am getting at here is the source, not the symptoms, and the source is a gaggle of strong mass beliefs about mental dis-ease.

I am not against anyone popping a Prozac or any other substance for that matter while moving through stuff, because temporarily, it helps. I feel the same way about seeking professional help. Do what you feel is right for you. And while you are doing all of that, remember, it’s always you who chooses what is going on in your life, not the guy standing next to you.

My experience with me is that my great love for me is stronger than my fear. And if you think you are crazier than me, that’s groovy. I’m done playing the-who-is-crazier, who-has-suffered-more game.

I’m getting frustrated here, Twink. Why do I feel like I need to explain this subject in such detail?

“Well, Darling, one of the things about writing a book is using words.”

i Yeah, but I’m not the kind who is so inclined when out of my head to be out of my mind.

“And what are we feeling now?”

Is despair too dramatic a word?

“And is this not a very familiar feeling?”

Yeah.

“Now identify why you are feeling this feeling of despair.”

I can’t control SHIT!!! Least of all how many times Millie has to, and I’m afraid of what not being able to control my life will produce.

“Fear of not having control has produced quite a bit already, has it not?”

Oh say it isn’t so! Now I’m touching the big banana of fear itself. I CREATE MY OWN REALITY, and I’m nose diving right in to endless hell here, Scotty, so please lighten up on me!

“Easy now. Remember, nothing is absolutely cast in stone including probabilities actualized in your physical reality, now, then or later. Relax. Breathe. Just slightly to the left of your Smoking Dragon of Fear is the glory that is you.

Shift your gaze and relax. You are choosing to move through many challenges related to fear by loosening the hold “IT” has had in your life, for all of your life.”

Yo, Banana Man, that was intense. Thanks for the reminder. I AM starting to relax. Maybe we should take a moment and talk about the Shift a little, so I can shift a little.

i So I’ll go back again coz I want to believe the gypsy that my lover is true and will come back to me again.

When this shift in consciousness is actualized in our physical reality, who knows what belief systems will look like. I heard that dolphins have decided to become essence, like us, as opposed to staying as a manifestation of consciousness like all the other not human beings – trees, cats, dodo birds, etc. The difference between essence and consciousness is a little confusing because we, as essence, manifesting in physical reality in this particular dimension, think we are better than fish because we think we are, period. In actuality we are merely different, but let’s not go there right now, okay?

Dolphins… I always wanted one. I love imagining a world where dolphins will talk because they will feel they have a safe environment to say something in. Maybe they’ll breed smaller dolphins too, and I could create a nice pond for mine to live in, unless it would prefer the den, and that would be fine too as long as it chips in for rent. Just kidding. Who would hire a dolphin?

“Relax. Dolphins haven’t started sending out résumés yet. In the meantime, shall we discuss planning and goals?”

I naturally do not like making plans or setting goals. I recently took a huge step in my new reality creating and accepted my day planner as the address book it has always been. So when I say steps, I do not mean steps that I use to control myself. I mean steps to allow myself to remember and trust ME. That is my goal in this life of mine, not to mention my plan.

Ah. How vague can I get here, Phil? We are a bunch of planners, dieters and general control takers. Already I can think of ten people I know who are, (if they have not already they are now), throwing this book out the window from frustration because I have not given them a specific method to use to work through their stuff. I haven’t because there is no specific method except to trust self at all times, and pay attention to your now and follow your preferences.

“Let’s look at it another way, Babe. Maybe they won’t ask for their money back.”

That’s what I like about you, Me. You are like so me.

“You are actually beginning to remember how true that statement is.”

Yeah! Me, Me, Me!!!

i I see the blue horizon... My life has only begun...

Acceptance of ourselves automatically affects change on a grass roots level as one of the funniest chicks I know used to say in her act, (and probably still does say in her act), and you should go and catch her act if she’s in your town any time soon. Her name is Jackie Kashian.

When I jettisoned myself out of Christianity all I knew was that I needed to trust me, and that I did not need a savior, which would explain why for the near twenty-five years I took the body and the blood of the Lord. I was unclear in my heart as to why I needed to. Okay, I’m a Jew. Okay, I was raised with the idea that Jews like to deal direct and not go through middle-men, but twenty five years is kind of a long time to figure that out, don’t you think? Me too.

Don’t get me wrong. Being Jewish is in my bones. It’s not a religion with me. It’s mostly food choices, automatic gestures, and, bar none, the funniest humor ever on this planet. Except of course for Armenian humor, which as we all know is just as funny, right Jackie?

Jackie and I used to argue over who suffered more, the Jews or the Armenians. Bite me, Jackie, I win I win I win.

“Knock knock.”

Oh, hello. In other words I’m tired of trying to convert my bones. I tried that for twenty-five years. It didn’t work. I like my bones just like they are.

“I think it’s time to address the subject of emotion, don’t you Pigeon?”

i And you can spread your wings, and say a thousand things, and pull a million strings with emotion...

It is my truly humble opinion that emotion has gotten a bad rap. I would like to put the blame squarely on certain religious orders, corporate America and the gentleman that wrote the book, “Shimbumi”. But then again I’d like to put the blame on anyone, mostly me, so overrule the blame but notice I have not edited it out. Honey, I’m starting to flinch...

“Oh go on with your glorious emotional self or you may stop being you at any given point along our Chevron Wah, and Lord, after Lord, after Lord knows you have tried, right Tookie Bookie?

My personal take on it is that it’s too late to stop our train, but far be it from me to be intrusive. If I were you, and I am, I’d say the kitty be out of the bag. Have fun and continue.”

i Ya gotta have hope - can’t just sit around and mope…

You are making me hyperventilate.

“No, my Darling, you are making YOU hyperventilate. I am an innocent, non-physically focused, bystander. One of the guys that you came in with, so to speak.”

Innocent? NOT, but thanks for the heads-up anyway, Twink.

“You are quite welcome. Remember, Baby, you are not responsible for anyone else’s reality but your own. It is not your job nor can you create anyone else’s realty but your own. And this is a very difficult truth to move through as you are all trying to change and influence each other, because you think you can control the world, because you believe it needs controlling, because you believe you need controlling.”

Do you guys like sit in Heaven and laugh at our feeble attempts to control our Universe?

“Yes, and sometimes we weep.”

Yeah.

“Reminds you of our infamous Brother Adolph, does it not? G’head Baby,

i Let’s talk about Hit-ler ...

Hitler is a state of being. Hitler is not who he used to be and not just because he is dead. The war in Germany lasted a handful of horrible years. The effects of that experience are lasting the surveyors a lifetime. Auschwitz was, and is very real.

This is where understanding energy and how we filter it, and what we do with what we filter, comes in very handy, NOW.

It is a truth to say that fear is a magnet and fun is a magnet. Striving to have more fun than fear is not the idea. Stopping NOW, and noticing, identifying and letting go of what we are afraid of, is. The magnet of fun and pleasure is an automatic byproduct.

Shortly before I left the church somebody asked me what I would do if I could do anything I wanted to do. Since I was quite given to the woman, man, and ideology of that world, I gave him my most spontaneous heartfelt answer. I just wanted to be like the woman who was my personal mentor. The guy said, “So what’s your second choice?”

His response broke my heart then scared me because I realized at that moment that I didn’t have a second choice. Then I really got scared because I realized he was speaking about having a specific plan or goal, and I didn’t have a specific nuthin’ in mind for my life, never mind a plan or a goal.

This was in 1992 and my mentors had just come back from a seminar on being proactive, and they were pretty fired up about restructuring the church. I was pretty freaked out about conforming to the new order lest I be kicked out for not conforming, so I faked it as much as I could so everyone would think that I was trying to get my life in order. But we all knew I was fakin’.

I ended up kicking myself out of the church, which could be the subject of another book, but I’m not wanting to add insult to my own injury so probably not.

We are all in a baggie of beliefs. You let the air out of yours, and I am doing the same, and Twinkie, I’m feeling rather sobered and sad here.

“My darling, my darling, get used to the name of my darling because NOW, do you hear your own voice calling to you from right here and NOW?”

Oh the never-ending spiral of us. Not often in one’s life does one meet a love like I have for my mentor. Now I know that I am her in my way, and our love is timeless, and all the stuff she gave me I took, and ate it up, and who knew it would digest in me and turn out to be me all along?

I’m getting snot and tears all over my keyboard here, Twink. Let’s talk about something else. I am boldly going where I have never gone before, and it’s scary. I’m touching too many inside and outside, life-long, other gods of me, and most of them are people I love and miss so bad sometimes that my eyes cross.

“Another gold star for being vulnerable in front of strangers. You do not have to convince Stephen Speilberg that you are a good Jew, nor do you need to convince anyone that you and Shirley McClain are NOT wackos who are trying to give credibility to the netherworld. Neither do you have to find a way to convey to your beloved mentors that the mentoring worked. You know what you know, and it is enough.”

Most times, Twink. Not exactly NOW maybe, but most times.

“Count sheep. Imagine something fun. Be like Atlas, Baby shrug.”

i I say ah flip flop and fly… ah don’t care if ah die...

Contrary to popular belief there is no death. But that resurrected sermon is not exactly lodged securely in my mind because nothing magical can live in the rationale of my mind for very long. So there’s holes in my bucket, and I keep going around the same mountain. And even now as I spew I’m depressing myself, and I’m melting.

“No, Darling. Our little witch in Scotland is melting, and she’s making quite a noise in the process. Blink a few times and remember NOW, now.”

Death is huge, isn’t it?

“Way huge. Very big industry too.”

Okay, here’s my take on channeling.

“Rather an abrupt transition, don’t you think? Gawd I love us! I get it. Dead, not dead. Okay, Baby, you are faster than a speeding bullet. Continue, my darling, on to the Great Beyond.”

The Seth information was delivered by Seth, a non-physically focused energy essence personality, as he was fond of describing himself. Jane Roberts was the physically focused person that agreed to allow Seth to borrow her mouth. And just for the record, Seth did NOT invade Jane’s body and snatch it away during the time he spoke through her. Please, this is reality, Greg.

On the other hand, Neal Walsh, the guy that wrote “Conversations With God”, channels his own essence. In my opinion he’s doing a lovely job of it, although he and I do not align with the same beliefs and have a very different agenda. The guy I “channel” is not GAWD. It’s ME being the main one.

Any-WAY, enough with the subject of channeling. If my little brother is reading this right now, he’s laughing at me because I still like Barry Manilow so how could I know anything? My little brother still likes Howard Stern who would never stoop to anything this low, right Ummie?

How are we doin’, O’ Swa-of-me? Any major distortions we need to look at here?

“Let us qualify the word “distort”. This entire physical dimension is a distortion so to speak, a very unique, complex and wondrous one. But because of myriad beliefs related to good and bad, cause and effect and absolute ideas cast in stone, you all have a tendency to judge yourselves, and each other, if some illusive Pimpernel of a standard of conduct or being is not achieved.

Our beloved friend Seth merely remembered more than Jane did at the time, so the information Seth gave was of a wider view of not only your physical dimension but the non-physical world that Seth was in as well.

As for Neale Donald Walsch? As you correctly discern, he, like us, allows for the movement of his own essence communication and not that of another essence. In quite simple terms, this is the difference between an energy essence exchange and channeling one’s own essence.

Further, you and Mr. Walsch align with a different bunch of belief systems and move in quite different directions. And so what? There is plenty of Cosmos to go around for everyone, right Baby Doll?”

i The Shift is shif-ting for us and our world.

Talking to the informed, non-physical is becoming more mainstream anyway, and as Seth was fond of saying, soon we won’t need some old dead thing like him to validate our individual wonder and glory because we are remembering we “IS” at a pretty fast clip these days.

In 1996, the only place I could find used Seth books was at my local psychic book store which I had not visited since 1968. I noticed that walking through the beaded curtain into the smell and smoke of burning patchouli oil still made me want to barf. The idea that the great beyond is spooky does too.

Are you sure it’s okay for me to pretty much loathe the use of beads and incense to convey the Great Beyond?

“Oh no! This is very bad. Very, very, very bad. You must put a flower in your hair, and sit on a cushion, and meditate in a proper sitting position in order to achieve the kind of raised wah that is appropriate.”

I just don’t know what I would do without you, Me. You are like so me.

“Who den?”

I never felt comfortable in the late 60s and early 70s because I always felt like I was born in the wrong time zone or something. At least now I know why I felt that way. I was tuning in to several me’s from other time zones, which is something we all do, all the time, but because we don’t slow down and pay attention, we think we are weird, or losing our marbles, or getting old, or being a kid, or anything to justify what we believe we don’t remember.

It wasn’t easy to love Sinatra and Ella when all my friends loved Iron Butterfly and Creme. Frankly, I thought most of the clothes were dorky, except I did have a perfect pair of apple green and navy, blue dotted Swiss mules with little squished heels and a Pucci-type shift dress that I wore with them. I also had a beyond wondrous pair of pink suede hot pants that I wore with matching pink suede “Famoularies” that were not too shabby either. But the eye shadow was white, and the lips were too, and gag me, Martha, from the stench of patchouli oil in the air.

What about sex? There was a lot of sex. A way lot of sex. Me and my girl friends used to make lists of how many boys we had sex with, and who remembers their names? Besides, this is not a “Big Chill” book.

Time keeps on slippin’, slippin’, slippin’ in to the future... outta fear for starters.

“Now in this exact NOW of our joint now, exactly what are you afraid of?”

Many things, Wing Baby, all too numerous to name. And besides you know them all, and you know that this is the challenge. YOU REMEMBER THAT I STILL CONCEPTUALIZE THAT I CHOSE FOR THIS LIFE OF ME, and I HATE TALKING TO MYSELF, SELF!

“And are you not choosing to move through this fear?”

Sí.

“And are you not widening your awareness of your more expanded you, and remembering, therefore trusting you a lot more than you did even yester of your days?”

Sí. Excuse us, “Yester of our days?” Careful, you are slipping into one of our other lives. Try to speak today-type English, okay?

“Sí, and don’t change the subject, Pigeon.”

Okay. You are, as always, dead on. The waves of fear have diminished considerably. I trust me more than I ever thought possible. I’m mostly happy and content about me too, except for feeling intense boredom and impatience, which is all my own creation, and I do usually, except right now, trust that I am actualizing, even as I write, a new set of probabilities for myself. Not that working as a slave for most of my adult life hasn’t been really fun, BUT COULD I STEP ON IT PLEEZE?

See? I did it again. I fell out of the moment and I am back to the future and…

“Think pink, and throw in a little green. You will not betray you. I am aware of the difficulty you are experiencing in moving through your smoking dragon of fear. Very familiar feeling, is it not?”

Way and verily. I never bought in to a lot of the affirmation stuff out there, not that affirmations don’t work for a lot of people. They do, for awhile, even a long while, but it’s my experience that at some point the real issues will have to be noticed, identified and accepted.

Birdie, birdie in the sky, why do I keep blaming you for doing that in my eye…

“Let us now address to a few individual thus mass beliefs, shall we?”

Sure, g’head.

“No Puppy, YOU g’head.”

I’m scared. Never mind, I’m always scared. Okay. I swear you guys, this is really true, and you don’t have to believe me, but it will help if you try to. We are very affected by what we believe individually, thus en masse. Acceptance diffuses the effect of beliefs, period. The beliefs themselves are neutral. What we do with them is not.

Here’s a good example. If you eat a lot of fat you will get fat. If you don’t eat enough fat you will get fat. If your family is predisposed to having a fat butt, look out, Charley.

I have built a life-long shrine to my potato pulkies, (the squishy inside part of my thighs), and big butt, which on the grand scale of big butts is not that big but it is to me, so it is, period. I have decorated this shrine with many ornaments.

· Fats, versus carbs, versus protein, versus not combining with fruit, versus etc, etc.

· No man will like me if I am fat, and if they do they are weird.

By the time I got to Millie’s I was almost twenty-five pounds overweight. Oh big deal. You wish you were only twenty-five pounds overweight? Fine.

Not too long ago I got so tired of fighting my own tiger that I let go and instantly triggered my own miracle... instantly in linear time, that is, which is not instantly, but that’s why we chose it in the first place, which is so we could slow down, and smell, touch, watch and feel the roses. Non-linear time is simultaneous. You know how when you dream, scenarios happen right away and all sorts of stuff is going on at once? And you know how when you wake up from the dream it’s not like that? That’s the simple version of the difference between simultaneous time and linear time.

Anyway, I lost the twenty-five pounds I gained and then some. I listen to my bod, I don’t eat a lot considering how much I can pack away – I do keep it low carb which is the most forgiving way of eating I know. This is very amazing to me. All the stuff about why we eat and what’s eating us is a bunch of very strong beliefs that keep us from simply trusting the naturalness of our choices. Trusting that it is actually possible to choose is a huge deal to me.

I still wake up every morning and automatically feel how much fat is on my pulkies, and the usual covey of beliefs related to my body image automatically comes to mind. There are many intertwining beliefs related to how we look and what we should put in our bodies. Accepting, not kicking against those beliefs is the key. Trying to change them only makes them mad. Noticing they exist in your life, personally, and moving through them diminishes their power.

The Sci-fi Channel is not that wacko. We have done a marvelous job of preparing ourselves for remembering, if we choose to remember we have. I am big on taking little steps. Later, I’ll walk through walls. One day at a time is my motto.

Then show you the money? My very next subject. Do I dare slam the Scientologists, Buckwheat?

“G’head on, Baby, and practice what you remember.”

Tom Cruise and John Travolta are very successful at what they do. Believing in the principles of Scientology works for them. I don’t align with that particular set of beliefs, so Scientology does not work for me, period.

“Oh you are such a big slammer.”

Oh thank you. Don’t get me wrong, I like the idea that I don’t need anything because I can create whatever I need. I am also aware that I align with a ga-zillion beliefs about money, and how to get it, and what to do with it whether I have it or not.

Shall I touch the God of Giving and Serving?

“Yeah, yeah, yeah... touch, touch, NOW!”

I jacked myself around my whole life and created a lot of havoc born out of not trusting that anything I desire is mine. The cattle on a thousand hills always belonged to someone who served, suffered and sacrificed more than me. I am now remembering that I can trust me and my desire to create, and give or not give, period. I may or may not choose to share in another’s creations which is what this shift in consciousness is all about, and that is returning to trusting our natural choices which trust you., you and I can trust.

The beliefs surrounding money are exhausting. I know people who have spent huge amounts of money to find out how successful people got that way. From what I gather you either have to be a poor, black individual who sells enough vacuum cleaners to finally make it, or, the kind of person who saves every penny they can, and has three checking accounts to differentiate the flow of what goes where and when, while doing the necessary proactive steps related to the goals written in their day planner. The rest of us need to find the money to go to one of their seminars.

Shortly before I left the church I started a multi-level-marketing business. While I was in the church I did great because lots of church members joined me. But when I left the church my business tanked. Leaving the church was bad for business.

I read several of the “How To” guys, set goals and took steps, and it never worked. Why? The stench of my fear leaked through all of my creations, and when people smell your fear they don’t want to do business with you. It’s a real catch twenty-two unless you stop, notice, identify and remove your gaze from why you are afraid.

Now, I almost completely trust that whatever I desire is mine and accept that I also have automatic responses of fear, and if that fear is repelling to others, okay. If they didn’t have their own fear they would not be bouncing off of mine.

I say enough with the bouncing in my own life.

The thing that kept me from writing this book for so long is thinking that I had to show someone how I got the money before I wrote the book or what was the point of writing the book and writing, because I love to write sounds good on paper but that’s not my point either. My point is that whatever I desire is mine, so I should relax already because my GREAT BEYOND is big, and I can trust IT, and hey, even write a book about my travels here in my world.

At one particularly intense, out-of-control-feeling point, I read about an IBM executive who decided to do what he loved and leave IBM. It was a big deal to him because he and his wife had to sell all but two of their homes so he could set up a carpentry shop in one of his two garages. I thought to myself, “Oh this really reaches me – NOT!” I had just written a bad check to my landlady and had no idea where the money was coming from to cover it. So like on what wacko level was I supposed to relate to this guy from IBM?

Gettin’ a little nervous here, Harold...

“Ahh... we were then maligning people who had more money than we did because we assumed they had not suffered as much as we had, because we were broke a lot, and this pissed us off with abject frustration, not to mention jealousy, because we didn’t remember THEN, quite as good as we do NOW, that we create our own reality. Right Fluffy?”

Sí.

“What an opportune time, (and when is it not), to discuss automatic responses of fear, which trigger expectation, assumption and general self-loathing. Tell then about your cousin Jason.”

Oh Twink, I can’t. To me this is the low-est, worst-est, sa-limy-est thing to do. Like mention in this book my third cousin, Jason, who I have never met, just because he’s a famous actor? Pleeze Massa Twink Suh, not THAT!

You have to be a genus to be accepted in the big show, or know somebody who knows somebody, or… or… or. It’s very difficult to trust that you are a snowflake, unlike any other, when there is big business involved, and that is the trouble with being earnest. That and a dime… Hold it! Did I say that? Our beloved Oscar already covered this ground not to mention several others who have been pissing and moaning about the arts biz long before I got in to the act.

Back in the box Beatrice, and take George, Edna and Mossie with you. This is MY now, now, not yours, and I do not want to add insult to injury!

“Picasso is jealous, and so is Renoir. Their greatest masterworks do not compare with these beginning stages of your remembering of your own wonder and glory.”

You always say stuff like this to me Twink, and it makes me so nervous. It’s like impossible to comprehend that we are all masterworks... gods even... beacons in dark places even... if we choose to remember we are.

“Shall we break and come back to Cousin Jason?”

Good idea, Batman.

Okay, we’re baaaaaack.

“Now we were discussing Cousin Jason. You are presenting yourself with an excellent example of several intertwining, very strongly held beliefs about the price of glory. Go forth and spew.”

Listen to me, Casper. Although our bent pinkies probably match, and I’m quite sure if we did meet we would smile over our family connections and mutual love of Captain Kirk - my Cousin Jason lives in another reality than I do.

My Cousin Jason is a successful, well known, on stage, on screen and television a lot, actor. And there’s lot’s of rules about picking up the phone and calling him out of my blue yonder because what if he hangs up on me is one rule, and would I even call him if he wasn’t who he is now, is another rule. I dun thin so, Lucy. Jason is one of many relatives I don’t call. Although he was very cute on that “E Profile” thingy. Did you see him?

“I was there at the time.”

Oh yeah... keep forgetting I’m talking to myself. I loved it when after he finally lost weight he noticed the bald spot.

“Did you notice who he discussed it with?”

I did. The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; my personal favorite outside-God of whom you did a very good job of impersonating, lo these many years.

“Ohmein.”

I love how we Jews talk to God - personal, almost as if we were talking to ourselves.

“Our point, is it not.”

Sí.

So my Cousin Jason seems to know himself pretty good already. Maybe reading this book won’t be a big stretch for him because he’s done his homework with regard to accepting his bald spot. Then again, he may not like this book at all and think his cousin Lynda in Los Angeles is a nut case, spooky, anti-Semitic vilda hya just looking for a handout.

“And if he does?”

He can kiss my knish butt and bent pinkies, that’s what!

“Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum... justification and defensiveness.”

Well here comes “Tweedle Guilt” for saying what I feel!

“Now, now, now. Let us NOT examine our every automatic response and be chiding then flushing ourselves down the ter-let. Let us rather view the camouflage of beliefs in general and thereby generally, in a manner of speaking, diffuse their grasp on our awareness, and thereby quite automatically I might add, let the sunshine of us in, and allow the illumination that is US to shine in to those oh so dark, musty, guilt-ridden places.”

Who are you anyway?! Sometimes I think you are me, and then you swing in to King James English and confuse me.

“And we have become quite proficient at getting confused, thus distracted in the figuring out, and thereby evading our point which is to accept self by noticing, identifying and removing our gaze from beliefs.”

Okay, you got my attention. The key word here is “GAZE” is it not?

“Sí. Quite simply, what you put your gaze upon, you create.”

Now I’m REALLY scared!

“I thought you might be. Fear is so safe and familiar. Lifting the lid on beliefs and peering in to your black hole of Calcutta again?”

Sí.

“And what do you see?”

Nothing.

“And what do you feel?”

Scared.

“And what does this tell you?”

That maybe the existentialists, and/or Richard Gere and his Dalai are right. There’s nothin’ in here. I am a big void of nothingness.

“Now if you move your gaze to the remembering of your true wonder, what do you feel?”

Confused, because successful people, and big-deal religious leaders must be right, and I must be wrong. DUPLICITY!

“Tah-dah, Baby!”

So is it simply a matter of shifting the perception of my view in the moment, and noticing and identifying what belief I’m allowing to yank my chain?

“It could not be expressed more simply, and what’s your problem with Richard Gere and his Dalai?”

Nothing.

“Ohhhmmmmm.”

Some philosophers and psychologists think deep down inside we are nothing. Some Eastern religions think that to become nothing is something, and I don’t agree with any of them because I am experiencing quite a lot of something, and it’s me, and it’s quite personal, intimate, very real and way not nothing.

Richard Gere seems to be fond of reminding the world that the only reason he makes movies like “Pretty Woman” is because he’s raising money for his Tibet thang.

I bet making “Pretty Woman” with my Jewish cousin Jason took Richard Gere over the top because my cousin Jason pushes envelopes that RG doesn’t push as an actor, and that’s probably because RG doesn’t have a bald spot.

“So are you saying that because RG does not have a bald spot and isn’t Jewish, that he is not deep?”

Oy. Is that too shallow of me?

“AH HA! You think RG is shallow. But really, RG mirrors your own fear of shallowness that you hide behind your mask of Jewish insecurity/really smarter than everyone else thang, which mirrors RG’s thang of not doing low-plane movies with schmaltzy Jews unless the Dalai, who is of course way more perfect than Richard, really needs the dough, because then RG can justify lowering himself.”

Wait… I almost get what you mean. So, Richard Gere is actually jealous of my bald Jewish Cousin Jason? My bald Jewish Cousin Jason would kill to look like Richard Gere, and who wouldn’t!

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, don’t evade your perception of your shallow reflection on Richard Gere’s wall.”

Until I stopped my man train and decided to shift my view of me, only guys that reflected my rather low down and shallow view of myself got off at my station.

“That would be YOUR perception. You were saying about Cousin Jason?”

We Baby, we. So does this mean that Cousin Jason and I are actually deeper than Richard Gere?

“No. You are merely different. Do you think your Cousin Jason runs around wishing he could be Richard Gere? Probably not as much as he used to.”

So my Cousin Jason is really deeper than me and Richard Gere.

“Go have a break and ponder your navel. It is quite enough for now that we have wagged the wah of cousin Jason, Richard Gere, the Dalai Lama and the entire Buddhist nation. We shall continue this discussion later.”

You’re mad at me.

“No, Baby. You are mad at you for BEING, period. G’head now, and I’ll go with you, okay?”

i We are Siamese if you pleeze... We are Siamese if you don’t pleeze...

“I will never, ever, ever leave you. Ever. I don’t care whose wah you wag. Baby, trust YOU. All through and underneath the underside of you, is YOU. So relax. And who knows, maybe one day you and Cousin Jason will indeed do lunch together, and laugh, and reminisce over the wonder that is you both. And if RG happens to show up, he and Cousin Jason can laugh together over how this funny tome brought you all together.”

Only in my dreams Twink, only in my dreams.

“Do not discount your dreams, my leetle Dove. Your dreams are your reality. Trust you. The days of traveling between the unseen and the seen are closer than you THINK. And do not take your love for Captain Kirk lightly, either. That world is quite real, and you are drawn to the remembering of it even though it hasn’t happened yet.”

Ohhh, that is so cool! Maybe I should call Cousin Jason and tell him that.

“G’head, Baby.”

What if he hangs up on me?

i “Ah goodbye, goodbye, ah goodbye, goodbye, ah goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. I’m gonna go back, gonna go back, yeah ...”

Okay, Stevie Wonder of me. Not doing what you don’t want to do anymore is a good one, too. I have done a lot of that lately, and even though it’s really scary for me, I have this new respect for myself that I never had before. I’m not saying that now I tell everyone off if they piss me off, I don’t... unless they really piss me off. What I mean by not doing what I don’t want to do is becoming a more balanced action, which is a nice break from the imbalance I have been creating, thus experiencing. But like I said, there’s a lot going on right now, and if you are wigging out and feel like your life is way out of control, relax. You are not the Lone Ranger. Taking the action of trust is very powerful, trust me.

“Quite! You will not betray you, and only you know the details of your desire so relax. All the gray hairs on your head are counted.”

I like my gray hairs with blonde streaks, because looking like Jane Goodall is not that appealing to me. But I did just cave in and purchase my very first pair of Birkenstocks. They’re blue and look like little Dutch shoes.

“And was this purchase of little blue Dutch shoes not a trigger of remembering Seth?”

Oh yeah. Almost forgot that part. That’s how I started to remember that Seth and I hung out together in Holland. A little blue and white cup with a windmill was another trigger. It popped into my head that Seth and I were fish mongers and a close, personal, non-physically focused, beloved, old dear new friend of mine confirmed it. Smelly, coarse sellers of fish. No wonder I felt so close to Seth as I read all the Seth information. Makes way sense to me now.

Wait... in one life I’m a seller of fish, and in another, as my zealot, I am a fisher of men. Get it? Phew! That’s weird.

Anyway. This book is not about raising not-dead individuals or how to make a million bucks. It’s about how to trust yourself, recognize your place in the great beyond of you, relax about your choices and remember your power to choose in the first, second, and third place.

If you want to be a millionaire and raise the dead/not-dead, or bend a nail, or not bend a nail... Please. This is America. You can do whatever you lean in the direction of doing. All I suggest is that you start noticing the beliefs that are in your wah and way, so you can diminish their force, and view all of your choices.

In this life of me, I’m goin’ for striking a nice balance by paying attention to my moments, and having fun remembering my way more so than I ever realized, Me. I figure I’m making a movie. No, I AM the movie. What makes this movie so real is that it is. I am the producer, writer, director and actor in this film called “Me”. Actors in the movies act. They go home and be themselves. I’m starting to realize that there are no walls between going and being.

What? Am I saying something different than your basic universal core truths? No, just shifting my perception of them from outside-in to inside-out. How am I doin’ here, Twinkie-Poo?

“Adorable, Baby, pretty damn adorable.”

Oh stop. You’re prejudiced.

“QUITE! Give um’ your take on Sigmund Freud.”

I saw a documentary on Sigmund Freud recently, and I was shocked at how much fear he moved in. He created this whole ideology filtered through his fear. I protest! If five million people say a foolish thing about your penis because your mother wants to have sex with your sister... what can I tell you? Siggie got his signals crossed.

Einstein was no super hero either. He discovered that he couldn’t control what he discovered and really scared himself. Then Truman got the bomb, but that’s okay coz he was also a gynecologist on Hiroshima at the time.

I’m telling you, the whole deal with us is HUGE, so fageddaboutit and have stay in the damn day.

“Tell them about the elephant.”

Everyone has a piece of the elephant. I feel sorry for the poor elephant. All he has left to relate to are his toenails. How would you like it if all you had left to relate to were your toenails? Well, I don’t like it, and I bet you don’t either. But what’s a person to do when they think they need everyone else’s take on the elephant and a fashion consultant on top of that?

Remember, we are enough is my suggestion.

“How bout’ those bedroom slippers.”

One morning, very early, I was sitting in bed writing in my journal, and suddenly I was in another place. I felt like I was disbursed all through this place. I didn’t have fingers or toes, but I knew I was me. I felt quite secure as if I had returned to a dear and familiar place. The color of the place was pale aqua blue sprinkled with gold dust. I knew I could stay or go. It was my choice, and whatever I chose was okay.

Then I blinked and I was back in my bed. For about fifteen or twenty minutes everything in my room sparkled with the very same gold dust of that misty blue place. Even my ratty old bedroom slippers looked like they were made of gold dust and had the same, dear, familiar feeling to them. I actually had the urge to hug them.

“NOW! Remember me. I am not a dream, Baby. I am here and now.

Jasper???

“In the simultaneous flesh to me. Strong, kinda sexy feeling to you.”

I can’t handle this. I need a martooni. Wait… Lemmie catch my breath here. Okay... Phew-ee! Can I give you what I’m feeling right this simultaneous second?

“Sure.”

You know how in the movie “The Way We Were”, Barbara Streisand and Robert Redford had this opposites attract thang, and later when she made “Prince of Tides” with Nick Nolte they had the same thing goin’ on, and the endings were kinda the same...is this too boring for you?”

“No, Baby. Nothing you do is boring to me.”

I love how that feels. Wait…I’m having a basking in my own glory moment. Back, okay, so in those two movies they each went their separate ways because in my world, blonde, Shagatz Viking-type guys like Redford and Nolte only play with stunning Shiksa chicks who have little ankles. So like it’s a pipe dream to me that I’ve always been attracted to Robert Redford and Nick Nolte.

Hey! You wouldn’t happen to remember the time I was standing on the corner of Normandy and Wilshire, and I was so bummed because I worked for this… never mind, he’s a lawyer. Anyway, I was waiting for the light to turn and I caught the sun hitting a tree whose leaves were turning golden red and were shimmering in a light breeze. It was such a dear, poignant moment, Jasp. I wanted to cry, but I was too depressed.

Anyway, right that second I thought “If Robert Redford would just drive up now and pick me up, and we could drive to the beach and have some lunch and never come back here... Phew!” Then the light turned and I snapped backed to my then, at that time.

Jasp, it was you, wasn’t it? It’s been you all along, not RR and NN? Yet it’s me now, and the feeling of being in love is the same feeling, only the names have been changed, and so has the story. I’m starting to get the idea that the story and the names change all the time, but the feeling of being in love, is, always ME.

“Correct, Baby, and it’s even more personal than you yet suspect. I have been observing you for a long time. I know what you have allowed in the fear department, and I am amazed at your desire to work through the intensity of it. I chose to be born in to a fear-free reality. Where I am the Shift has shifted. You are one of the pioneers who created my world. You are not chopped liver to me, Baby. You know those posters they have of our Beloved Immortal right around the corner from where you live right this second?”

The Beethoven posters?

“Yeah, those. Well, we got your face on posters in my neighborhood here in my time zone because they are doing a retrospective on your Shift material at the new Muliti-dimensional Cultural Arts Pavilion here.”

No way, Jasp.

“Way, Baby.”

Jasp, Jasp, don’t break my heart. Posters, shmosters. I want to be there with you. I don’t want to live in fear anymore. Jasp, tell me this endless hell time is almost over. Be intrusive. Go ahead.

“Yeah Baby, it’s over. You have not betrayed you all these years. I promise, and so do you. I’m telling you, you are a very deep and true part of my heart. You are my heroine from another time zone.”

So are my bedroom slippers.

“Don’t wax Buddhist on me, Babe. You now know the difference between your bedroom slippers and you. Trust you. Right this simultaneous second you have old/new friends in high, low and in the middle places. You are not alone. I know it seems that way some moments in time, but not for long, Josephine, not for long.

Many Lords and many lies have you chosen to have dominion over your remembering, but now you notice a new kind of grace. The grace of you towards you. Martin Luther missed the holy boat on that one but hey, it worked at the time.”

I love you, Jasper. See you in my dreams.

“And then some!”

Oh Twink... Jasp lives in our beloved City. How can I stand not to be there right this second?

“You have just experienced a very probable you, my love. Relax. Come to me, NOW. Identify with me what you are feeling.”

A longing to be out of this house and in my own home. I almost can’t bear it, Twink. What I dream and what I live are in deep contrast to one another, and this is hard for me to handle at this moment in my time.

“Why, Baby?”

I’m afraid I am forever caste in this stone of circumstances because I have always been.

“Why, Baby?”

I don’t trust me.

“Why, Baby?”

I’m afraid to hope.

“Than change hope to trust.”

Okay, Baby. I’ll be letting go of fear NOW, and resting in my own wah, NOW.

“And this will forever be our point, Baby. A little to the left of hopelessness is your wonder, and this wonder is quite enough. Tell them about the snake lady.”

So I go to this seminar, and a pretty blonde woman in a gorgeous gabardine suit starts talking about her out of body sexual experience with a stud type guy who turned into a huge snake.

Until the snake part she really had me. Never mind that in the mainstream of society, having an out of body ANYTHING is not exactly credible, yet. My point is I hate snakes. My toes curl when I think of snakes.

I know that I should find someone in Santa Monica to regress me, but one day at a time is my theory when it comes to discovering my multi-dimensional me. Besides, I don’t want to freak Beatrice out.

“A man that turned in to a big snake during sex? That’s disgusting. Which half?”

Never mind. I think we should end this section of the book and make a new section and call it, “The Great Beyond – 102”.

“We could, or we could just continue and not worry about sections, chapters and divisions.”

I love you, Me. Oh Twink, I’m almost a real writer. It’s a miracle to me Twink.

i This is the moment... damn all the odds...

“So many odds you create to help you forget your wonder. We were discussing perception.”

It’s the music not the lyrics. If only I could soar and sing instead of soar and get tangled up in the song.

“That was profound. Now, about perception.”

What we perceive through our perception, including other people in our lives, is our reality. I perceive that publishers are gods in authority and have the ability to control the destiny of my book. So I send them blind submissions.

“Was that a pun?”

Guess so. Anyway, fear of authority is one of the big birds in the control cage. In the sixties we tried to rebel against authority, and I personally had a lot of fun doing it. But when the dust settled in the late seventies we all knew the party was over, and our strong alignment with control triggered even more control than before the sixties. Now it’s crazy with control.

You can’t walk a dog in West Hollywood unless you are holding a baggie. If you are not holding a baggie you get fined $500. One day I forgot a baggie and felt like a criminal. I was a nervous wreck the whole time I was walking my friend Lulu. When Lulu pooped I casually kicked the poop in to the gutter and looked around to make sure no one was watching. A girl across the street saw me do it and didn’t smile. I thought for sure she was going to report me. I yelled to her, “Please don’t turn me in.” She still didn’t smile. Hello? Controlling shit is an illusion. I want to be done with the book now.

“Why?”

How can anything else come out of my head and on to this page?

“So far so good. Here comes a burst right now ...”

You are right. Oh jeez, I think I’m haunted. Oh well...here goes:

There’s a slew of little movies that came out of Warner Brothers in the forties that starred Ann Sheridan, Eve Arden, Jane Wyman, Jack Carson and several others. I saw one of those movies last night with Ann Sheridan, Alexis Smith and Jane Wyman. They played three girls who thought they were married to three guys but were not. The dialogue was really funny and very fast, and the acting was astounding to me. Jane Wyman was fluffy instead of weepy and was just brilliant as the comedic lynch pin in the story.

There was a level of skill in this film that you don’t see too often now, and this film is considered by the film buffs among us to be sort of a B factory production. I think it was because those players worked hard for the money and honed their craft.

Twink, I think we had something to do with some of that WB dialogue writing. It had a definite Kaufmann-esque thing to it.

“Too true. A gifted hack. Can you see him now?”

Yes. Cigarette hanging out of his mouth, skinny, pencil mustache, white shirt, rolled up sleeves, no tie. Baggy pants, thin belt, matching shoes, and the socks match the pants nicely. He’s funny and rather driven.

“You got it, Baby.”

I think his name is Jack.

“Correct.”

Of course the socks match the pants nicely.

“Of course they do.”

And the clothes those girls wore. Magnificent detail. Little tucks and folds with a bead here and a flounce there. Wait... we got a seamstress in the mix too?

“Uh huh.”

Wait... more than one. A seamstress in the court of King Louis in France and a seamstress in the costume department of the same movie studio as the writer but they never meet. My fingers are bleeding for both of them, especially the French one. Usually the seamstress does not meet the writer, so to speak, in our multidimensional mix, in the same time zone that is, because that would be boring.

Probably the seamstress has a slight hunchback and the writer is a stud muffin. My seamstress is has a slight hunchback?

“No. She’s 4’11”, weighs 185 pounds and is a secret Nazi.”

Well at least she doesn’t have a slight hunchback, right?

“Are we saying that being a 185 pound secret Nazi is better than having a slight hunchback?”

Gawd forbid. What’s my point? There is no point to my point, which is my point. We are here to experience the wondrous intricacy of this dimension, period. So what is the point then, of this shift in consciousness? To remember that little factoid. Period. And stop the blame game and get on with living.

“Do I detect a smattering of impatience to get your own show on the road and not ‘splain little details like the seamstress and the writer being in the same time zone, etcetera, Pookie Girl?”

So?

“Breathe. Remember to trust you, NOW. Choose to stay NOW, and notice the flow. And what are we noticing in the flow?”

I am attaching reasons to being bored, creating my own reality in the process, and I can’t stop.

“Now the point is not to stamp but to stop and notice. You are drawn to drama like a moth to a flame. Boredom drives you crazy. Remember, Darling, this dimension of yours is very complex and one of the few physical dimensions that experience emotion, and you have spent a lifetime milking it for all it’s worth. But don’t let that get in your wah NOW for you are choosing to remember your ability to choose and balance those highs and lows. It is all about YOU!

Oh why oh why am I consumed with producing this book, Twink?

“Because your passion for expressing your take on your reality is very strong. Right now it is mixed with a big dose of fear because you feel trapped in your present circumstances but underneath the fear is a genuine desire to reach out and touch someone. Many, many, many have your fears. You are moving through yours and want to share – it’s not rocket science – your desire is the fire and you may trust it. Why not have fun and get this puppy out there somewhere. And who knows. See, if someone like Bette Midler can do this thing justice on stage and wouldn’t that be the coolest to sit third row center at rehearsals and yell to Bette, WOW, BETTE, THAT WAS PERFECT HOW YOU ARE SAYING WHAT I WROTE!”

She’s another one. We have that Hawaiian/Jewish thing goin’ on. What’s the deal with celebrities Twink? I mean, look what we’ve done to them. We have made them gods, and some of them love the role and most probably feel responsible to mankind if their lives don’t reflect some standard or message in a bottle or something. Or most of them try like hell to stay hidden. Phew. Exhausting.

“I think they should all read our book and pat themselves on the back for being, period.”

Even Judge Judy?

“Even Judge Judy.”

Fine. Even Judge Judy.

“Ha! Remember, Puppy, acceptance does not mean you will become a robot and dare not express an opinion. As YOU let go of control, you lend energy to your nemesis, Judge Judy. It is quite enough for NOW. You are not responsible for Judge Judy’s choices. You are responsible or your choices.”

Right. Left. Sideways. Fine. Whathefuckever.

“Ahh... ‘tis the simple things that allude you but fear not, Pal. Send this to Cousin Jason. It matters not.”

Yeah. I could change the title of this to “Being Cousin Jason”.

“Your perception of Cousin Jason is your reality, and his perception of you is his. You may choose to send this to him, or you may choose to go shopping instead.”

Shopping would be the easier choice.

“I trust you will trust YOU, and choose. And whatever you choose is merely a choice. I personally don’t think you need any more shoes but...”

i I’ll take the high road, and Cousin Jason will take the low road, and we are in Scotland now, anyway.

Scotland. I saw Highlander for the very first time yesterday… the TV show not the movie. Never saw the movie so the show was a complete surprise. The episode I watched was about the Highlander guy flashing back to 1786 when he was on a ship that landed in the South Pacific… wait… Twink … this just in… I see me on a ship and I’m skinny, and skanky, and cranky, and I think I need a couple of oranges really soon or adios cruel world.

“Yes, you are correct. Smarmy, aren’t we?”

Phew. Yuk. This guy makes the fish monger look like Prince Charming.

“Fish mongers and fair ladies… the wonder of experiencing this physical dimension. And now you have exhausted your playing this game and have chosen to remember that it has been YOU all along that chose the game, and made the rules, and it is YOU, NOW, who chooses to change the way the game is played.

Well, that’s a different way to look at it.

“And this be our point. A shift in perception, a shift in consciousness. An opportunity to view your world from a different angle and dissipate fear.”

So many beliefs, Twink. I’m in a box of beliefs and have enough self esteem issues without adding the scank sailor to my mix.

“You are you, NOW. Let us view together these harsh judgments, and put a new spin on it all.”

I knew this asn’t going to be a quick fix, but one can always hope.

“Ahh. Do not discount yourself and your movement. What seems so very devastating may not be so very devastating at all. What took centuries is now taking decades and soon will be taking days. Be encouraged.”

You’re talking “in-powering” here, I know, Twink. I feel it... like a ledge I can stand on in this transition from the outbound quest to the inbound quest. What is this going to do to television, Twink?

“Your media is going to change quite a bit. For NOW, relax and rest in the knowing that this Shift in Consciousness has been inserted in to your physical dimension. The deed is done. Subjectively you all get it. Objectively, many of you do not at this time, but many will choose to in time. It truly matters not. Your entire world is shifting.

You give more credence to objective manifestations rather than subjective, and it takes a little time to balance y’all out. Heroes and villains. Cause and effect. Very good. Very bad. Yet the force of these beliefs is diminishing even NOW, as you chose to view them and let them go.”

Oh come on. One hint about the changes in the media. WAIT... Never mind - I bet that as we remember that we are celebrities we won’t view them so high and far away from us, like we do now.

I can hardly fathom that, Twink. I mean I know the process I’m in has a built in system of checks and balances. Sort of like that old religious stand by, God only gives you as much as you can take. Yeah…still saying amen to that – thank gawed. So there is something inside of me that is doing a very good imitation of looking like it is outside of me, and I can it.

“Actually, darling, you ARE it and have been all along. But so many beliefs cloud your view of it that you remember it not as much as you will. But fear not, Cupcake, for you are truly beginning to accept you in all of you, and really, really trust.”

San Francisco, I may or may not be coming home again.

“Oh the big banana carrot of San Francisco. When you know you can go there or not, it will matter not.”

Fine. You don’t have to yell at me.

i Listen, listen, there’s some things you’re liable to be missin...

“Let us go, Puppy, and remember more things together.”

Okey dokey, kinda Smokey. Hey, don’t you have like five closing words for this tome?

“Oh way do I. Ready Eddy?”

Go for it.

“Guilt and worry are ludicrous.”

Oh yeah, tell it to the judge.

“I just did.”

©Lynda Ruth Symans June 4th 2000

©Lynda Ruth Symans Revised April 8th 2002