The wow factor of this experience is simply amazing. I’m watching something unfold within myself and I’m newly astounded on a daily basis by what I’m seeing. It’s not just what I’m seeing, but what I feel when I look at it. Power and grace have no real meaning until you see what the people of this world are really up to behind all the convoluted illusions.

It sounds better than a cocaine or heroin high, and it is, but therein lies the problem. If you let it, it will float you away from this world on a cloud of ecstasy. You need to keep that anchor or you’re floating into ascension or worse, a kind of wandering insanity until you re-orient yourself. As good as it feels and as much as I want to stay in that wonderful world forever, I know that I’m not supposed to. I’ve learned enough about the resurrection process at this point to realize that any real heaven needs to be firmly anchored in the earth.

The power of it absolutely grips you, but if you start losing your grip on it, you need to turn it off. Oddly enough, I know just how far I can go and what I can safely get away with from years of experimentation with just about every natural substance known to man and a few synthetic ones, most of those actually having been prescribed. The scary part is that it’s far more powerful than any external drug (my brain could in fact be converting small amounts of serotonin into DMT and/or releasing endorphins as part of the experience, but that’s internal). The good news is that unlike an external drug that gains control over you until the effects wear off, you can turn this off just by tuning it out.

I want the process to happen, it is and will but I don’t want it to overwhelm me. If it starts to get more of a grip on me than I have on it, my only counter is a tenacious grip on this world. I’m not supposed to give up one for the other, I’m supposed to “bear the cross” and pull them together. It’s not an easy thing to do, but oddly enough what I thought were a couple of decades wasted on partying were forming the muscle memory to do it. The odd thing was, it always seemed like my abuse was more experimental than those around me.

We were all in it to see how fucked up we could get, but I was always after more and seemed to have a greater purpose that saved me from the fate of many people around me doing the same thing. In many cases I could push it much further than what killed people around me engaged in the same activities, because even tho I’d step over the line, I had a way to pull myself back.

I have a no holds barred imagination, I’m not afraid to let my mind go there when it comes to imagining anything. Even with that, even knowing it was coming, what is being revealed to me is literally blowing my fucking mind every time I look at it. I need to take it in smaller doses until I get used to it. Without the experiences of my so called wasted life, I’d be like the monkey picking the cocaine button over the food button until I starved to death.

The other thing is, there’s a time for dreaming and a time for doing. I need to see what I’m doing, but sitting there reveling in its glory is like spinning your wheels in mud, you think you’re getting somewhere but you’re not really moving forward at all. I’m trying to understand what I’m seeing, not take an egoic bath in it.

I imagine the same thing is going on in the global consciousness, we know what it is we’re after now, we know it’s reachable and it’s very probable that all we need is patience and vigilance to get there. I know a big key to this is everyone seeing what we’re actually up to behind and beneath the headless chicken dance, but I think that’s just a matter of tuning in to it with all three eyes wide open.

We usually get it wrong before we get it right, but we ALWAYS get it right eventually and when we do… boy is it ever right.