Cycles of Life

In Autumn of 1995, I was walking across my living room when I suddenly became consciously aware, fully, of a series of troublesome dreams, "programmed dreams" I had taken to calling them, which I'd been having regularly for six months. The nature of them was a bit shocking, and I stopped in mid-step. Then I thought about them for quite awhile. I "knew", intuitively, that now I had become aware of them, I would never have to worry about them again.

The next day I heard about Remote Viewing. The day after that I started a daily email conversation with someone involved in that field. And everything just seemed to roll on from that point. It was like everything I had been experiencing and involved with for years, simply fell away like it had never existed.

Around February of 1996, my life completed a 'shift' into what felt like a radically different cycle. I didn't know it at the time, but that marked about three months of pregnancy for me. It felt as if a giant thick black energetic blanket had settled itself down right over my crown chakra. I felt cut off from myself, from God, from the 'sense of truth' I used to feel so strongly, from everything that mattered to me. I felt I'd somehow been reverted to the "trauma queen" personality I'd had a dozen years before, but had worked my butt off to "evolve from" to that point.

By 1997, the Remote Viewing topic had managed to take over my life completely aside from my job and kid. But it felt like it was killing me. I was ready to throw in the towel completely. I was exhausted, disgusted, the politics were ridiculous, and the cult psychology and historical revision was nauseating. I had come to feel that the whole topic was "my job" in some dharmic sense, but I asked myself one night, what is this gaining for me, my involvement with others, my involvement online? And the answer was: mostly grief, in one form or another. "That's it," I told myself grimly. "I'm done." And I turned off my computer and went to bed early. Instead of climbing under the covers, I threw myself on the bed upside down, and stared up at the ceiling.

I found myself in a vision. I was flying on the back of a giant eagle, high over a patchwork landscape. I alternatively looked down from my seat on the eagle, and saw from the vantage of the eagle. I suddenly realized that the irregular shaped patchwork below me had meaning. That block over there, it represented something I had studied some years ago. The unusual shape and color of a patch somewhere else, represented another interest I had pursued.

I realized that how they fit together had meaning, too. They were not necessarily in the time-sequence I had experienced these things. But I could see how the various things I had experienced, either intentionally by study, or seemingly spontaneously experienced without intent, all fit together perfectly, into this landscape quilt of my life. I soared above, feeling a sense of awe about it.

I saw that we were nearing the edge of our 'map', of our land. The section directly below, which I understood represented Remote Viewing, was shaped a bit like a peninsula, with about half of it actually sticking out of the land mass and into the water ahead, where no other land was.

I looked curiously at what was ahead of us, and I saw that at the end it functioned like a tiny little 'land bridge', to another land mass across the water.

The eagle and I observed in tandem that as long as I was on that particular path, that particular patch was the only way to get to where I needed to end up. It was the only route that would actually lead me to home. Because I understood that's what we were now nearing: the other land mass was 'home'. All the patchwork landscape of my life that led across the land, and then out on the peninsula, and then at the very edge of it, across the tiny landbridge to the new land, all of that existed simply to get me to where I needed to go.

I felt my whole body realize what it all meant: that I was exactly where I needed to be, doing exactly what I needed to be doing, at exactly the right time. I was not involved with remote viewing by accident. It was already pre-planned as part of the landscape of my life, not simply for what I found within it...

...but for where it led.

The feeling of "absolute rightness" was indescribable. It was like the ultimate validation to every level of my being.

In an instant but smooth transition, I found myself aware again of lying on my back on my bed, looking up at the ceiling. A wave of golden energy particles rushed into me with such force that I felt as if a part of me, my conscious thoughts, was pushed slightly to the side, as I simply "watched" the effect on my body. The thoughts of my primary body began to move so fast, I ceased to be able to be part of them, and merely watched them fly by, like a spiritual tornado too fast to follow. I "observed" them as several world-changing, genius inventions were borne and then passed, as a whole kaleidascope of probabilities was sifted, shifted and chosen from too fast to follow. I was in awe.

Eventually the gold energy seemed to reduce in quantity and intensity and speed, and then it spiraled down to where I was "inside" my own thoughts again, feeling unusually energized and joyous, but otherwise fairly normal, considering what had come before.

I considered that a message, not surprisingly. "Stay the course," is what it meant.

As a result of that, I stayed as long as I could, doing stuff online, related to RV. I looked for all kinds of alternatives, to the point where eventually I was offering to pay someone out of my pocket to help me with the workload, offering to train people free to do html work, anything. But I got no help, and by the time 1998 rolled around, I had a 60-70 hour job at Lockheed Martin in Fort Worth, two hours of commute per day, a part-time job doing a few old clients webwork (though I had given most website work to my then-husband), I had a toddler (a full time job for any mom!), and the hour-demands (and psycho-social side-effects) of my involvement in RV online was simply not workable for me anymore.

I posted a manual I hoped would reduce the cult psychology in the field, took down half my website, left up the stuff that I felt could educate people, and departed the field for four years.

I didn't just leave the field, I left viewing. I had so much emotion from the politics of it that merely thinking of the WORD "RV" literally upset me, made my stomach hurt, and destroyed my interest in viewing. I did a session every few months, and seemed to learn a lot when I did, but otherwise had as little to do with any of it as possible. I was pretty busy with work, never mind the rest of my life, so I didn't miss it all that much.

Around 2002 I felt like I was finally ready to view again. But I was a bit lonely for other viewers. I had the idea--funny now, but it seemed reasonable at the time--that all those people I spent so much time on individually (let alone as a group) years before, by now would surely be expert viewers, and now they could help ME!

I wasn't sure I wanted to dive back into the politics I had left, so I took one of my pen names and wandered back online. I went out of my way to find archives of forums and discussion lists, and I literally read four years of history in every place I could, while I was watching the current discussion of the time.

It was phenomenally depressing. Nothing had changed but a few of the names, for the most part. And what behavior had improved in some areas had simply been taken up by other sources.

I wanted to leave. And yet, I had a strong rekindling of the feeling I'd had years prior: that it was "dharmic" in some way; that it was, on some inner level, simply "my job" to deal with this, to do what I could. I'd been given a break, but that didn't relieve my sense of obligation, it merely gave me a leave of absence from it. That sense of "duty" has kept me involved when I would much rather have left.

For some years now, it has felt almost like a curse of sorts--not really 'bad' but certainly very tiresome. I do like some of the people. I do like viewing. Although frankly viewing when I allow myself time and consistency becomes a whole experience that is considerably more interactive than actual RV, and less useful practically than actual RV, but much more deeply moving. I consider RV a tool, and my interests are somewhat larger than simply RV to be honest, but encompass psi in many ways.

I've had some fun with projects online, though they cost far too many of the hours I should have been sleeping over the years. And if I had enough enthusiasm to carry me, there's plenty that I could be doing in that respect for another few years. But, alas, I burned out a long time ago. But I've kept going, because I had what I considered interesting project plans that involve other people I didn't want to let down. Mostly, I've kept on because I felt like it was my job on some level. That I was in the space, the time, the field, with those skills, and so on, for that reason. Pain in the butt it might be, but I've tried to make the best of that "dharmic sense" of obligation. I was here, might as well have fun with it.

***

A few months ago, I took a break from the field at large, to spend more time getting enough sleep for the first time in 20 years, to spend more time with my child, more time doing other things I wanted to do. It was pretty nice. Except, of course, that I have never been able to step out for any length of time without the constant guilt, the constant sense of obligation that I'm not doing what I "should" be.

Around a week ago, I had a minor epiphany. I was meditating calmly at the time, not on anything in particular.

I suddenly understood: I'm done now.

I've been released. The obligation no longer sits on me from inside--the cycle officially ended, and now I am in a NEW cycle. I felt that clearly, as part of all this: that a cycle in my life had just come to a close, and now a new cycle was beginning.

And just like that, I let it go. Everything still in the air, everything I've done. I lost my 'attachment' to all of it -- miraculously, blessedly. I don't care anymore. Not in a bad way. Just in a "no longer attached" way.

I don't know what the new cycle is, just like I didn't know what the new land was that I flew toward in the soaring vision from just over 10 years prior. I have no idea where I am going from here. I suspect that everything I have done intensely: studies in psychology, theology, hypnosis, hands-on healing (energy work), archetype work, and remote viewing, are probably all going to combine into something that I haven't thought of before.

I am far more focused on here-now, on meditating, than I have been the last dozen years, so it appears something has shifted inside me. I feel more centered (nothing like getting enough sleep to hugely improve any personality!), more calm, more grounded.

And more sure. Whatever my interests lead me to, I feel that right now, right here, I am exactly where I should be.

PJ