Some Special Sights I Have Seen Along Love’s Infinte Path (could be used in several chapters for Book #8)

• What is ‘prayer’, and why is it’s healing potential disregarded by some, laughed at by others, considered only on special occasions by some, and liberally administered by yet another group of people?
• Are mystical and occult experiences and psychic events part of divine intention, are they acts of the dark, ignorant mind, or are they available to all?
• Are our dreams a direct connection with a higher possibility for our life, or are they just another entertaining diversion while the brain, and the body rests and heals during sleep?

June 1972-Savoy Brown, Rod Stewart and the Faces, and the Grease Band Concert

I had an amazing experience of crowd energy when I attended my first rock concert in 1971. When I first walked into the seating area of the Memorial Coliseum for thie first time, I had an apocalyptic experience.  There were well over 12,000 people attending, and the MIND BLOWING experience was a miraculous event where my presence was distributed over the entirety of the crowd.

If you have never experienced this, you cannot understand this.

Over the many years from 1971, through the present moment, I have found that I am sensitive to crowd energy (a palpable form of collective consciousness), and I can “feel” the collective energy of several types of groups of people, and actually draw from it, and add to it if I am receptive to what is going on. And, unfocused groups put off such diffuse energy that there is nothing special to tune in to, and I find little to attract me to such energy.

June 22, 1987 (duplication of another chapter, not yet sure which one)

“HE IS HAVING AN EXPERIENCE WITH GOD”

It was June 22, 1987, and I was hiking up to Larch Mountainhe Columbia River valley, and from its vantage point all of the major mountain peaks of the area can be readily observed. In the ancient times (I was to learn several years later) this area was considered sacred ground by the indigenous peoples, who came to this area from miles around to honor their Great Spirit, and to hold their sacred ceremonies and prayer rituals. I arrived at the top, and allowed myself to become as quiet as my mind would allow for.  I slowly did a 360 degree rotation, observing for the many miles around me, in all directions, the incredible beauty of the area, the mountain peaks of Rainier, Adams, St. Helens, Hood, Jefferson, and the great winding river called the Columbia River.  It felt as if I were on the top of a great observatory, and, today, I was the only person with this special view, and I was quite grateful just to be alive, and have this privilege.  I bypassed a guard rail, and I then climbed around the rocky peak so as to be hidden from the view from anyone.  With the additional privacy that I had created for myself, I then felt comfortable enough to begin to pray and meditate for just a little while.  I was pretty poor at this activity, as my mind refused to quiet itself.  But, at least I made myself available to Spirit, in the way that felt appropriate to me.

My nervous system was still quite compromised from all of the poisoning caused by the chemistry experiments masquerading as methamphetamine/crank that I had ingested over the past 18 months.  I had been clean and sober for 3 months, but total recovery seemed out of the question at this point.  I had been a drug addict and alcoholic, more or less, since I was 15 years old, but the last 18 months had really taken a toll.  My health was improving a little, but I still was having physical tremors, almost identical to Parkinson’s disease, and I was also experiencing the psychological discomfort of “hearing voices”, a delusional activity within my mind which consisted, at this point, of mentally generated feedback about whatever I was observing, or doing at the time.  The voices were nothing more than my own thoughts, yet, in my mind, they appeared to be coming from a center not of my self-aware self, but of something, or someone, not quite me. It literally was like having a play by play announcer operating in my mind, who verbalized everything that was happening, as it happened, with no color commentary added to it (it was a “third person” perspective, with a running monologue documenting anything that my consciousness was focusing on at any particular moment).  I had an uncomfortable relationship to these mental processes, and I did not report this to medical professionals, fearing that I would be hospitalized, or placed on the same destructive medications that I had seen administered to my mentally ill ex-wife.  I had resigned myself to a life of marginal mental health, at best.

A light, warm breeze carried the fragrance of the nearby pine trees to me, drawing me away from the problems of my body, and of my mind.   I continued to be absorbed by the beauty of the area, and the majesty of the unobstructed views.  The mountain peaks began to feel closer to me, for some as yet unknown reason.  I felt as though I could reach out and touch each of them.  The river far below me felt close, very close, and the whole panorama seemed to be drawing nearer to me, and I began experiencing everything in a different way than I ever had before.  And, for the 2nd time in a month, I started feeling a little “different”.  A month ago I had experienced a “vision”, and, with its presence, all of my loneliness and depression had lifted. I attributed that temporary healing to the presence of the vision, and there had been a love that had flowed into me during its presence.  The “vision” had disappeared, but it had left its memory of a beautiful, unconditional love, and with it, traces of hope, and the expectations that something was to follow, of some as yet unknown nature.  Well, something was following now, and it was “closer than breathing, nearer than hands and feet”.

A voice inside of my head then stated, with its typical matter of fact nature,

“HE IS HAVING AN EXPERIENCE WITH GOD”.

I was no longer separate from that which I was viewing.  Everything revealed itself as an extension of myself, of my own true nature.  For the first time in my existence, I could see that, as far as I can see, all that I will ever see, unto eternity, is my self.  Then, with a sense of all of my thoughts now being my own, I asked myself “how will I see myself today?”  I saw that all of humanity was my true family.  I saw that everybody was either my brother, or my sister, in this new, true nature that was revealed within me.  I looked within myself, and for the first time in my life, I only saw peace, as well.  The third person monologue had stopped!!  I held my hands out before me, and my hands, which usually shook so bad that I could not even write my signature clearly, or use a spoon to eat from a bowl without making a mess, were steady!  Peace had finally found me on a mountain peak, and I had finally found my true self.  And, I had finally found that life, that TRUTH, I had been seeking since I know not when.

And, I had finally found what real recovery is.  It is not just stopping drinking alcohol and using drugs.  It is the decrease, and, ultimately, the elimination of all patterns of thought that keep me from caring for this world, and for all of the life upon it.  I can’t be alive, and live life fully and holistically, without loving my fellow man, and all of the rest of the life upon our planet.  Think of the love that we have for our newborn baby, or our favorite pet, feel that love completely, with no reservations at all.  We spare none of our hearts or souls, do we?  Now think of that family member or acquaintance who is causing us so much distress, so much anger, even hatred.  Can we give the same love that we would for our baby to that person who we are distressed with?  If we can’t let go of those negative emotions, then that is an example of our separation from God, or Truth.  I don’t have to travel to the underworld again to find that truth, or to look for somebody who might listen to me.

“WHERE ARE MY PEOPLE?”

became the question of the day, after I hiked the short distance back down to my car.

I then drove towards Portland,  from Larch Mountain, and was guided to go to NE 73rd and Glisan, where the US Postal Service’s EAP program was based.  I walked into the door, and I was greeted by both Larry and Mike. The last time that I had seen Mike was when he visited me in the Care Unit 3 years before. Larry had been the director of the EAP-employee assistance program-since I could remember.  I called out to them by name, yet neither man immediately recognized me.   When I mentioned my name, they were both blown away.  I was happy, or, more precisely, ebullient, and Mike said that I was simply “radiant”.   They wanted to know what was going on with me, and I stated, with a matter of fact attitude, that I was having a “spiritual experience”, and they both gave me a huge hug and acknowledgement.

Inspired by this reception, I returned to the Main Post Office, and checked in with the Personnel Department, where Eleanor Workman was the head of the department.  She immediately recognized me, and then offered me an application to reapply for my “lost” position.

“No thank you, Eleanor, I just wanted to express my apologies for working for this company in such an unhappy manner for so many years”.

She stated that I could get the job back with little problem, since the Post Office knew that they fired me even though I was still a practicing alcoholic.  I then stated that what would make me the happiest is if she could schedule a meeting between me and the head of Plant Maintenance, John Zimpleman.  Well, he was “in”, so I went right up, and I had a direct opportunity to make amends to him for my poor performance from 1980-1985.  He greeted me warmly, listened to my story, was quite impressed, and then stated that he wished his son could discover what I just found, because John Jr.  was rapidly descending to my former level.  Wow, this day of amends went so well, I remained ecstatic about all future interpersonal possibilities.

One day that next week, while visiting our world famous Powell’s Book Store on Burnside in Portland, I saw my old psychiatrist, Dr. Dan Beavers.  He was standing in the metaphysical section of the book store.  I walked up to him, and he did not immediately recognize me.  I stuck my hand out to him, and re-introduced myself to him.

“Bruce, this can’t be you, can it?  Last time I saw you, I was wondering how much longer you could survive if the medication did not turn your life around.”

“Dan, the medication worked just fine.  I never used it, at least not in the way that you would have intended for me to use it.  I finally found a new way to live life without medication, drugs, or alcohol.  I now accept full personal responsibility for my thoughts, feelings, behaviors, and activities”.

“Bruce, that is the desired outcome for all of my patients.  Congratulations on your success!”

I gave Dr. Dan a hug, and apologized for using him like a tool in my effort to manipulate my former employer, the US Postal Service.  He said that I did not need to make amends to him, and that he was there for me to serve all of my needs, whether I considered them dysfunctional or otherwise.  But it still felt good to see Dr. Dan and show him my healthier sense of self.  I was to never see Dr. Dan again.  When I recently saw his obituary for his premature death in 2015,  I felt great sorrow, and cried.

August 1987-1994- Marie Schmidt (duplication from the Divine Feminine chapter)

In 1987, I met Marie Schmidt, a practitioner of the Infinite Way, which is a movement involved with “spiritual healing” created by Joel Goldsmith (died 1964).  She was a woman about 87 years old, who taught every Sunday at the old YWCA on 10th Avenue in downtown Portland.  I had seen a simple advertisement for her tape group, while attending the International New Thought Alliance conference in Portland.  The tape group was a combination mediation group, and a forum for listening to the taped teachings of Joel Goldsmith, a spiritual healer and mystic who first began his healing practice shortly after the Great Depression began.

She had been holding weekly meditations and tape recorded playbacks of Joel’s actual messages since 1962 (she had 1000 hours of his recorded messages, which she ended up giving to me). Marie would sit in the front of the room, and lead a 15 minute meditation, followed by the playing of a cassette tape of one hour length,  which she had.  She had a collection of at least 300 tapes (of which I eventually copied virtually all of them, and committed them to memory as best that I could).

I was captured by this group, which had mostly older people who attended.  I believe that I was the youngest person there, for the period from 1987-1991, while I remain involved with her group.  Initially, I kept my distance from most of the people, not really being sure what the whole business was about.  I eventually drew Joan M and Marcus J. into the group, who I knew from the International New Thought Alliance convention of 1987, as well as Alcoholics Anonymous, and the Living Enrichment Center.

Jeff, Marcus Jones, Marie Schmidt, Joan Madsen, and me (right to left)

One day in February of 1989, after I had just broken off an engagement to be married to Laurie H, and I was devastated.  The sweet old woman, Marie, offered me a “healing session”.  Well, I had my doubts, and nothing to lose, and I was a little curious about this “healing business”.  I went up to her apartment, still devastated, and meditated with her for 15 minutes. At the end, Marie spoke the “message” that she heard from Spirit, in regards to me.

“More perfect than you are, you could never be”,

with

“All that is human, is illusion”.

Well, OK, but how can I possibly apply that spiritual salve?

As I thanked her for her time, I then noticed I was totally at peace, and I was “healed” of all of my emotional disturbances around the ending of my engagement to Laurie.  It was as if the winds of Spirit had blown away everything from my mind, except peace and joy.

As I look at my life’s history, I have been healed by its Mystery.

I later tried to have her heal my mentally sick ex-wife, Donelle,  with no success.  So there were limits to her ability, though she always stated that God  heals, not herself . I can almost now hear Marie’s voice, telling me, in regards to all of us:

“More Perfect than you are, you could never be.”

How that manifests in all of our lives remains an unraveled mystery, to be experienced by us each day that we have the privilege to wake up.  She would tell me that we are all blessed by each other’s continued walk through life.    Love goes before us, to make all of  “the crooked places straight”. We are Loved, and, in fact are Love Itself.    The body goes where it must, but also, so does our Hearts.  Go in Peace and Love, and always be willing to bring healing to any situation, for that is our mission, and who we are always to be.

In 1994, Marie was placed in the St. Andrews home near Mt. Tabor, when her nephew noted her deteriorating health, and he was concerned about her decline.  Marie continued to practice healing with the other patients, even while under care of the attending professionals.  My last visit to her, prior to her death, was characterized by her still restating to Sharon and me of our perfection in the eyes of God.

“More Perfect than you are, you could never be.”

—–Marie Schmidt

At lunch with Marie, Sharon, and I, around 1990

 August 1990 Sharon and Hayley (partial duplication from the Divine Feminine chapter)

I moved in permanently with Sharon late in 1989.   Her daughter Hayley lived with us until July of 1990, when she struck out on her own, to find her own truth and healing. I was having some difficulty communicating with Hayley. Sharon and her daughter had some unique mutual control dynamics that were not healthy or satisfying to witness, or to participate with. Sharon ended up signing up for a class from Diana Martha Clark, who was teaching a twelve step recovery course on co-dependency, which Sharon ended up benefiting greatly from. Hayley had a lot of growing up to do, and I became disturbed by her need for chaos, need to hold her mother as an emotional hostage, and her lack of respect for my need for peace and honest, loving expression in communication. She could be particularly harsh, angry, and insensitive, and I felt like I was always walking on eggshells with her.

One weekend in July of 1990, I went to my grandma Henry’s home to stay while she was out-of-town. I spent literally the whole weekend in prayer and meditation around my troubles with Hayley. Then a most unusual thing happened. I “heard” that my issues around Hayley had been resolved, and that she was not to be an issue any further. I went back to our apartment that Sunday evening, and upon my re-entry, I was informed that Hayley had decided to move out, and live with Martha Cannon, a former patient of Sharon’s. Remarkably, the only problems that arose with my early relationship with Sharon, other than daughter related, revolved around Sharon assuming that I knew what her needs were before she expressed them to me, but that misunderstanding quickly worked itself out.

As I look at my history, I see the workings of the Mystery.

November 1990-THE VOICE OF AWAKENING

Sharon and I shared a common passion of finding and expressing the joy and truth in life, and we meditated and prayed together for many hundreds of hours together, especially early on in our relationship.  The fruitage of one of our shared meditations is the following “poem”.  I had a particularly deep, profound connection during a meditation around 1990, where I had once again entered into Truth’s domain.  There was no apparent message, that is, until I returned to my conscious mind.  The silence then used the words in my memory to create the following message.  The first stanza I wrote in 1985, prior to any real spiritual unfolding, and I could never finish it until this meditation in 1990 filled in the body of it:

THE VOICE OF AWAKENING

Though the slowly shifting sands of time,

Create ever taller hills for this lost soul to climb,

It must be in my selfish, hateful world of no reason or rhyme,

I must begin the search for Truth, to find the Love that is sublime.

“Oh seeker of Truth, God’s high mount you would climb,

Though you now stumble through the valley’s shifting sands of time.

Stop confusing your mind with worn out rhyme and reason,

For they are forever charged by Truth with treason!”

“Oh mental marathoner , only on Life’s treadmill you now stand,

Just re-using the same words and thoughts keeps you life’s ‘also ran’

You’ll forever chase in vain Love’s all-knowing voice,

So be still, for with your run’s end, is the Cause to rejoice!”

“Oh marionette’s dancing image of the screen of the world’s mind,

With all of those conditioned beliefs in control, what freedom could you find?

Release yourself from all of those memories’ materialistic strings

To prepare for the inner Wisdom that only my Intelligence brings!”

“Oh shadow boxer of evil, when will you ever tire?

Tis only champion of a dream world to which you aspire!

Cease resuscitating dead illusions with those mental pugilist blows,

And reveal the peaceful mind of the One who now knows!”

“So please wake up to Love’s voice sweet somnambulator,

And realize the eternal truth that “I” within “you” is greater,

Than any mental image you could ever form or learn,

And then your World will reflect the One for whom you now yearn!”

And then the real “punch line” to the search for Truth:

“To be in realization of Truth, is to find God’s high mount another illusion to climb,

Created by fearful, desirous minds caught on the merry-go-round of time”

The dark, restless mind remains forever bereft of Love’s Rhyme and Truth’s Reason,

And only chases after mirages, until it sees all of its movements are guilty of treason!”

Lookinglass Lake, Mt. Adams, Aug 1992

Summer of 1992

I awoke one morning during the summer of 1992, and finished preparing to leave on a weekend hiking and camping trip with Sharon, up to the Mt. Adams Wilderness Area.  We were planning to backpack into Lookinglass Lake, about a ten mile hike one way.

My senses were somehow heightened, and I felt as though I could see and hear better than I was accustomed to.  Food tasted better, the air carried many more scents, and my entire body felt alive with vitality, and sensation, well beyond what I was accustomed to experiencing in my day to day life.  I had to work that day, so I ignored my “extra sensory perception” for most of the work day, though I remained excited about joining with my beloved partner Sharon on the  hike.

Our drive took longer than expected, and we arrived in the Mt Adams Wilderness area too late to reach the developed campground we wanted to use as a basecamp, so we parked for the night in a snow park area, and set up our tent to shelter for the evening.  We sat outside of the tent, and I began to experience, in its fullness, that “extrasensory perception” yet again, but much more profoundly this time. It was as if I had sensory receptors in the dirt, the sky, and the trees.  It was as if I had grown roots, so to speak. I not only could see the ground all around us, and the beautiful trees, and the sky, I could FEEL the ground, and it was as if I extended all the way through everywhere that I could see.  It was the experience, in a new form, of “all that I can see is myself”.  It was like I was “hearing” and “seeing” and “feeling” for all of nature that surrounded us, and it was a profound mystical, transcendental event.

We finally lay down for the evening in our tent, and though I was still quite profoundly experiencing this event, I was able to fall asleep beside my beloved.  Shortly afterward, I awoke to a great light enveloping our tent, and I arose to go outside to see what was happening.  In the sky appeared a Great Light, and the entire surrounding area was bathed in a light that totally eliminated all shadows, even though it was near midnight!  I awoke Sharon, who rose to witness the light.  To this day, I have no clue if the light is associated with my “heightened mystic awareness”, or if it was just a coincidence that a UFO would awaken us to bathe us in its radiance.

After we returned home, I told my mother about the light, and she reported that the week before, a mysterious light in the Mt Adams wilderness area was also reported in the Oregonian newspaper,, so who knows what was happening there?

There is only One Creator.  There is no reason that we cannot be attuned with ALL OF ITS CREATIONS, including all willing members of the human, animal, plant, geological, and, uh, “alien” races..

When we touch our Self with deep awareness, we touch everything

Mother Earth is fully conscious, in a way we do not yet fully understand, yet, we can all eventually  resonate with Her. . . .

I have touched our Mother Earth with the deepest of awareness.

I love and treasure our Mother Earth.

How about you?

Looking back at my life’s history, I remain immersed in the light of its Mystery.

Prayer

If we could all divest ourselves from our religious or scientific and/or secular backgrounds for a moment, and consider what is about to be discussed, we can share in the possibility for a greater personal and collective unfolding.

It has been said that prayer is nothing more than intentional or focused thought.  It has also been said that prayer is our line of communication with our higher power.  As the understanding of “prayer” and of our thoughts evolves, we finally note that the words point to something so simple, normal, and natural.  Yet, these words also point to a much greater potential for shared reality than most people understand, or realize.

There is a band of frequencies in the spectrum of universal life force where humanity resides. Our minds already arise from this base, or fundamental ground, of being or existence. We naturally can access all of these frequencies, yet we must discern which ones to attach our life force energy to, and which ones to avoid. We all are accessing these frequencies together, as a human race, thus the incredible potential for overlap of experiences, synchronicity, empathy and compassion.  For example, reincarnation may be the experience of one’s unusual sensitivity to the crystallized life history of a deceased person whose energy is still vibrating in the spectrum of universal life experience.

One story really stands out from my electrician apprenticeship program that I attended from 1988-1992. Gary Johnson was another apprentice in my class, and he, at times, appeared a little distracted and dull. I knew that there was more to him than that, though I never really positively acknowledged him in any outward way. We were American Males, after all, and rarely do we reach out to each other in any physical, meaningful, loving way. One day we were scheduled to take a very important test, one which would determine if we would successfully continue in the program, and eventually finish with our electrical license. For some reason I felt an intense desire to pray for Gary.

Gary is center left, with me looking at him

This was not a typical activity for me, praying for somebody that I did not know well. After the test, Gary came over to me, and asked me why I prayed for him. Nobody, I mean NOBODY, could have known that I was praying for Gary, including him. Are we all connected? My spirituality was not a flashy garment that I wore to gain attention from others, because of my need to keep a secretive silence about that aspect of myself. I was a participant in an industry dominated by unconscious male energy, and I knew that would be ridiculed and ferociously judged by all of the toxic energy of the men, having been a participant in that activity prior to my own awakening..

I stopped praying for co-workers after that, not being comfortable with the mystery of what had just transpired.

NOTE:  Gary died early the next year.  The reason that he appeared distracted is that he was keeping a secret from all of us.  He already had his diagnosis, with a poor prognosis, though he claimed that his lack of energy was due to the care that he had to give to his terminally ill mother,

Telepathy and prayer can refer to the same experience, as well as prescience, remote viewing, and other psychic phenomenon. It is too easy to discount, or “poo-poo” this aspect of human potential. Our world culture will continue to further hypnotize itself with its higher technology entertainment, and many will lose their way because of over reliance on these toys of communication.

What will open us up to the possibilities of the “unknown”?

Most of us continue to define our life by what we already think we know, and by what others, such as parents, friends, teachers, ministers, etc. might think about us. Time based thought and activity generated from a past frame of reference remains the dominion of our ego, whether we consider our minds healthy and happy, or insane. But for many of us, in order to find the real connection with love, joy and sanity, we must let go of envy and competitiveness and the need to control others.  We can let the natural peace at the center of our being decide what is best for us.

Summer 1993-Pacific Palisades Retreat Center (duplication from the Divine Feminine Chapter)

It was the summer of 1993, and I had scheduled a 5-day retreat with Eileen Bowden and 20 other followers of the Infinite Way, a mystical healing path originated by Joel Goldsmith (died in 1964).  The retreat took place in Federal Way, Washington, at the Pacific Palisades retreat center overlooking the Puget Sound.  I spent the four days in silent contemplation and meditation, with several group talks given by Eileen over the course of the time period.

Eileen Bowden Retreat

Eileen Bowden, who lived in British Columbia, Canada, was a student of Joel Goldsmith, the originator of the Infinite Way.  Joel was a non-practicing Jew, and was led into Christian Science in the 20’s, while his father was on his death-bed.  Joel watched a Christian Science practitioner heal his father, and Joel caught fire with the possibilities for bringing spiritual healing to all of life (life that is receptive to healing, that is) because of this.  She was hand-picked by Joel to continue teaching the Infinite Way, as she “had the message”, meaning that she had achieved, or attained, the “Presence”.   She would enter into the sacred energy, and then give her unprepared talks (she spoke extemporaneously for at least 1 hour for each talk given).  Our role as “listeners” was to be in a sacred, meditative space, as well, so as to contribute to the total energy of the experience.   The result for me from this experience was that I was totally “involved” in the sacred energy of the Spirit, with the total quietness/stillness of my mind complemented by perfect peace, and joy.  I carried this energy for a full week after the experience.

Awakening Part 4

(written in 1992-1993 time period)

Perfection lies, behind all eyes,

We, who would look within ourselves, will find,

The Sublime Surprise, of which all Life does comprise,

The Divine Self of all Mankind.

We, who have made our choice, with one free voice,

Call to our Eternal Source Supreme,

We will no longer roam, we are coming Home,

We are awakening from the “human” dream!

With courage draught, from fear made naught,

We move from temporal shadow to Eternal Light,

The Kingdom sought becomes the Vision caught,

Whosoever overcomes, now sees with unhindered sight!

The Love All-Knowing, the Truth now showing,

With Divinity, We walk hand in hand.

In us its growing, through us its flowing,

Embracing all between space and land.

With Hearts entwined, One Soul Divine,

To this world, We are a blessing immense.

Though we pass this way for but a day,

With Divine experience, who would dare dispense?

The experience was somewhat perplexing to Sharon, as she wondered why I was having this profound experience, and why it continued on for so long.  She had many questions, but the perfect peace that I was experiencing was not ebbing, at least initially.  I had to return to work, as I worked for a living as an electrician.  At work, the energy continued to flow in its own unique way, but well into the work week I started to question the value of “enlightenment” when I still had to continue to work.  My co-workers were so out of touch with these things that I considered important, special, or sacred, and I could not quite get a handle on how this spiritual experience would have any value in the workplace.  I dared not speak about it, or show any type of behavior that would distinguish me from anybody else, and the dominating attitude for me was to “just blend in” as best I could.

I had already cut way back on meditation with the beginning of my running career in 1993, and when the spiritual “energy” finally ebbed, I despaired a bit, and I felt a little awkward pursuing any deeper connection.  I had started questioning the value of a process that I was failing to integrate into the rest of my life.  There was nobody to blame but myself, but ever so gradually, my “over commitment” to my spiritual unfoldment began to ebb, as well.  But my love for my partner, Sharon, and for all of our shared friendships and family did not ebb, but continued to increase and enhance the quality of my life.

Gary Mill and The Haunting

I was a member of a Christmas dinner gathering that we had, on December 23 of 2017.  We went out to dinner with Hayley, Christopher (Hayley’s love), Aunt Susie, Sharon and myself.  We returned home, to watch the movie “The Haunting”, a movie from 1963, which my sister Pam had recently reminded me that I had watched with Gary and Cindy and herself as a seven year old boy.  The strange part of all of this is when I mentioned to the group that I had watched this movie with Gary and Cindy Mill just as I was starting the move to watch with the group, I received a call EXACTLY at that moment from Gary.  I had not talked with Gary since Dad’s funeral, on September 27th, and Gary and I have not been in connection for many, many years until dad’s death.

Here is our text message exchange from that experience:

Bruce:  I received a call from you (well, from your phone) the moment I spoke of watching movies with Pam, Cindy and you at your parent’s home in north Portland.  The movie that we just started watching was The Haunting, a movie from 1963 that we watched with you.  Pretty strange, huh?

Gary:  Happy Holidays to you.  Everything fine here.  Sorry about the call…when I was talking to a friend, I somehow accidentally dialed you and hung up.  It must have been the universe!  Have a safe trip (we were leaving for Arizona the following day to stay with June for 13 days).

As I search through my history, I always see evidence of the Mystery!

August 2018-Beryl’s Place

In August of 2018, I rented a home in the Black Butte residential area for three nights.  I found the unit online, and I chose this unit because of its proximity to the golf course, as well as its ability to accommodate two couples.   Jo and Jim Hussey, and Sharon and myself were to be the occupants for that extended stay.  I paid the full lodging bill for all of us.

When Jo and Jim asked why I wanted to pay for the unit, I replied that it was a gift from my deceased father, Beryl, who had died one year previous..

Upon arrival, we all discovered that the unit had my father’s first name on the side of it.  And, it was spelled correctly.

This experience was truly a gift from Beryl!!

Dreams As Teachers And Healers

Sharon found this note that I had written while “asleep” in 2007. It was hidden in a dream journal that was found in our suitcase on our trip to Japan in 2019.  Since then, I have had several experiences touching the psychic and occult levels of human experience.  I prefer to “project” into happier environments, in both waking and sleeping environments.

I am not a religious person, though I have joined with the community of many theologians who believe that dreams are one of God’s (or, Higher Power, Universe, Healing, Spirit, Grandfather Great Spirit, The One, etc.)primary ways of getting our attention. In the absolute, there is little difference between what we experience through our dreams and through our so-called waking reality. Awake or asleep, internally we respond in real time to what we witness as if both experiences have equal footing in reality. So could God/Truth be trying to tell us something while we are sleeping? Here are six spiritually significant dreams that may be more than meets the mind’s eye….

1. Visitation Dreams
   It’s common to have a visitation dream after a loved one passes. The deceased often appear in bodily form, healthy and luminous, in order to communicate an important message: “I’m okay.”, or “There is nothing to fear about death”. I have had several of these dreams over the years, with my most recent experience revolving around the recent death of a good friend.
2. Prophetic Dreams
   Many people have had a “dream that came true.” Our dreams may use our past experiences to produce a probable series of future events—showing us patterns that help us make better choices when we’re awake. I have had several dreams that have predicted EXACTLY events that were to happen, yet they remain unreliable predictors of the future, because the future is always changing, depending upon changes made in the present.
3. Warning Dreams
   God—and our body—can sometimes speak in dreams to warn us about imminent danger, especially regarding health. We may dream of a specific body part or even receive a verbal warning. In a 2015 study of women diagnosed with breast cancer, 83 percent had dreams that were more vivid than normal. And 44 percent reported hearing specific words like “breast cancer” or “tumor.”
4. Healing Dreams
   These are the internal creations that bring us from an “out of balance” place into “harmony and balance.” They often involve a mystical encounter. I have experienced many healing dreams, I had one amazing dream with my deceased grandpa Henry which, to this day, inspires and confounds me.
5. Heavenly Dreams
   According to a 1989 study, more than half of healthy young adults who dreamed of death spent a significant amount of time in that dream in heaven. These dreamers sometimes go down a tunnel or pathway and arrive at heavenly destinations. They also frequently encounter deceased loved ones. I have had dreams where I have heard the songs and sounds of the “angels of heaven”, carrying a message of beauty beyond my ability to describe or define.
6. Mutual Dreams
   A mutual dream is when two people—typically in separate locations—dream of the same thing at the same time. According to a 2017 study, shared dreams are 80 percent identical on average. They often occur between close friends or relatives. Interestingly, 4 percent of these dreams are shared by strangers. A most profound realization and insight may come to the dreamer, that the collective mind of man dreams through individuals, and individuals dream through the collective mind of mankind. We are one, after all, you and I.

THE 1964 DREAM:

We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.  
– –Anaïs Nin

The most profound experience that I have ever had around insight and dreams happened at a young age, during a dream experience. In 1964, at 9 years of age I had a most amazing, realistic dream. This was during a period of time when I slept very little, as I usually got to sleep no earlier than midnight, no matter how early I went to bed. Truth be known, I did not like falling asleep, as sleep might open the door to yet more nightmares, which I was all too accustomed to. My dreams finally evolved beyond the continuous nightmare phase that I was accustomed to, prior to age 9, but uncertainty about their possibility of arising still prevailed within my mind. In preparation for sleep, while lying in bed I would review the day every night, and see where I could have done things better, or said something a little differently. Somehow I had intuited that by improving my daytime behavior, my nighttime dream world might become more peaceful.

THE DREAM:

The main character in the dream was a priest or shaman of some sort, from an age and area where there was no technology. The priest had wandered off from his community and found himself overlooking his village.  There, on his ” mountain top”, he received his new teaching to give to his community.  The priest (my avatar in the dream), having received his directive from “on high”, then returned to his village along the lake in the high mountain region. He gathered all of the villagers together, and informed them that they were to take every golden figurine, every sacred symbol that they owned, and they were to throw them all into the lake, and never to think about them again. Then, he told each villager that they must each go into their own home, and face the “evil one” without any protection or care from any of their gods or their symbols of the sacred.

Lake Titicaca Peru-Bolivia-South-America

The priest then returned to his own home, having tossed all of his own idols and treasures into the deep blue lake. He stripped himself bare of all clothing, and then began to summon the forces of the dark. He became surrounded by a fog, and as he lifted his hands, sparks started flying out of his fingertips at the unknown force of darkness that lay just beyond his visual field, still hidden beyond the boundaries of the fog. The priest refocused his energy into his arms, and hands, and the sparks grew into a steady energy field, extending from his body, his heart, and his spirit, towards his unknown adversary. He was determined to overcome this force, this dark energy, and he redoubled his efforts. The priest’s heart began to race out of control, he began to sweat profusely, and a growing sense of fear and dread began to take hold of his entire being, as he finally understood that his energy could not last forever. Yes, for him to continue this battle, he must sacrifice all of his life force. Yet, he felt that he had no choice but to keep engaging the enemy, to finally see the face of the force that had terrorized his village since time began. He desperately strained and stretched to see the object of his fear and disdain, even as the ebbing energy field flowing from his fingertips continued to cut through the fog. Suddenly, a face began materializing before his faltering gaze. As he collapsed to the floor, almost drained of all life, he could no longer fight an undeniable truth– the face of the evil one might be his own!

Three years later, while taking World Geography as a class in the 7th grade, I was introduced to the Inca civilization, and Lake Titicaca, which is on the border between Peru and Bolivia. This was, and still is, a very sacred lake, and, according to the lore of the Incan people, it was where the origins of the human race began. I had an eerie sense of familiarity with the lake, and with the people of the area. I proceeded to consume every book on the Incan civilization that I could find. I became hooked on the idea of traveling to Peru someday, to seek out some answers, and to experience its culture, perhaps for a second time? I eventually traveled to Peru in 2014, having a remarkable experience that, if anything, showed that I can survive at 13,800 feet elevation while hiking the Inca Trail for over 25 miles.

This dream says it all, and even the unimaginative among us cannot miss out on the unmistakable message that is contained within it. Projection is a name given by psychologists to this experience, where we finally realized that the conscious world that we feared, the conscious world in which we created idols and gods, and self-protective psychological mechanisms, to protect us from the perceived or potential evil, was actually a world that we created through our own ignorance, both collectively, and individually. This manifests in all of the horrors that we witness on the world stage daily, and in all of the family and cultural dysfunction under which we were raised. We are all wounded by this process, and rather than find a way to heal from it, we ignorantly arm ourselves against further assaults from others, even though we are part of the attack against our own self in the first place. This is the most insidious component of the Common Knowledge Game, and the one  whose existence must be acknowledged, or the normal negative outcome is inevitable.

Ultimately, we heal together, or we die alone.

August 1978 Dream

Bob and Dorothy Fero were friends that my parents had, from the time I can first remember my parents having friends.  They shared the Oakey Doaks square dance group with my parents, and about twenty other local couples. We frequently camped with them in travel trailers during the summers from 1962-1970, and my sister and I spent many nights over at their home, staying with their children Michael and Robby, while my parents went out to dance and party with them on weekends.  When I learned how to play golf as an twelve-year old, Dad and Bob would frequently take me with them, and I got to see both men on a different level than just my elders.  I really grew to love and respect Bob, and I always assumed that he would be around forever.

Bob had anger issues, and it was best not to get Bob too riled up, or someone was going to feel the wrath.  On the car driving trip home from Reno with Dorothy, in 1972, Bob’s anger came to a head.  I do not know if he had been drinking, or what, but in a fit of anger at Dorothy, he recklessly passed cars on the way home, and took all sorts of suicidal chances with his driving.  Finally, his risky behavior caught up with him, and he slammed his car head-on into an oncoming vehicle, killing Bob, and critically injuring Dorothy.  Dorothy was to recover eventually, though her crushed hip remained an issue for the rest of her life.

Bob had his funeral in Milwaukie at the Catholic Church.  My father refused to attend, as he was so averse to funerals, and his grief over the loss of his friendship with Bob was just too overwhelming for Dad.  I attended the funeral, not having the same aversion to death that my father had.

Two nights later, I had a dream, where Bob came to me in the dream.  He told me not to fear death, that is was beautiful and peaceful where he was, and that death was not the enemy.  My father was not consoled by that dream from me, and it would have been much better for him had he received the insight, or the dream, himself.

March 17, 1988 Dream

Recently, I was reading my journal from March of 1989. There was an entry about a mysterious dream that I had on March 17, 1988, where I am looking for a discarded ring with 8 jewels. After feverishly looking about, I locate 7 of the jewels, and not the mounting, or the eighth jewel. The last jewel will be found mounted to the lost ring itself, the thought comes to me. I am with an unknown girlfriend at the time, though there is sadness associated with this friendship. I know that this “unknown woman” is not the final jewel, and my search must continue. The dream tells me that this is a view of the future, so when I woke up, I was a little more than just skeptical, to say the least.

I was with Laurie H. at the time of the dream. I first met her in an ACOA (adult children of alcoholics) meeting in October of 1987. Laurie and I were engaged at that time, though several weeks later we cancelled the engagement, in June of that year. This opened the door to an eerie conclusion to this story, and yet another story of healing.

Last night, Sharon showed me the ring that she bought for our 2nd wedding, in Las Vegas, in 2004. Sharon bought the ring in Portland, prior to our leaving for Las Vegas, and I was not involved in its purchase, though I asked her, prior to leaving, if she had a ring for our fun 2nd marriage. She then went to purchase it at Mother Goose, a store in Portland.

seven jeweled ring with big stone

On it was mounted 7 small stones, with one large green eighth stone distinguishing the setting. I had seen it before, and yet never understood its significance, until I re-read my journal. WOW, the ring, and the story, straight from the dream! Sharon had never seen my journal before (it has been in storage since 1989), and I have never discussed its contents with her, either, nor had I even thought about it once in the intervening years.

An interesting recent development is that I have seven unpublished books.  Through a very difficult process of reexamining my own “tricksters”, or holes in my spiritual boat, I realized that I had already dismissed my works as irrelevant to the rest of the world, and I sat on it.  Once I directly addressed these tricksters, yet again, with the passion and intensity that living in this moment can bring, I lost my need to keep attacking myself and the “voice for truth” within me, and I became very excited, and motivated, to finally publish one book.

This one published book is BOOK #8 !!!  This is the eighth jewel, and the seven other books are the smaller jewels surrounding it, all rolled up into one final package, or setting.

June 3 1988 Dream

I first met Diane “DIDi’ Mcloud in 1982.  In 1984, after we both experienced some permanent relationship end points with others.  I fell deeply in love with her, though I knew our relationship could not survive for long, because of both of our toxic faults as human beings.   Di Di became a part of myself and my consciousness, and I had one profound dream with her in it, shortly after her 1988 death as a result of a drunk driver..

In the dream, I am confronted by a man exhibiting aggressive, unkind, abusive behavior. In the dream, I am appalled, disgusted, and threatened by his manner. I call out to a policeman, imploring him to arrest that man, and protect all of us from his violence. Di Di then walks up to me in the dream, taking the policeman’s place, and states quite plainly that for love to reappear in my life, in all of its fullness, I must first “arrest” all of these negative qualities within myself, and rehabilitate my own passions, then love will reappear.

This dream ends, but the waking dream, and the journey continues.

(Poem given to Di Di prior to her death)

Though hibernating for oh so long

And hiding from the deep pain of winters’ chill

Love reawakens to sing its special song

So for how much longer can we be still?

With eyes that melt winters’ deepest snow

A tender touch that always seem to say

That all we will ever need to know

Will be learned along Love’s way

Two minds that were brought together

Two hearts that seek to share,

Two bodies that need no tether

Two become one, though still a pair

Heavenly nights and rapturous mornings,

Love promises through all of our years,

The sweet, stirring music of love sings

For two souls who now have the ears to hear.

True love can be the source of dreams

For two hearts continuing to awaken.

I pray that we are all each other seems

And share in Love’s next journey taken.

Written for Di Di, in 1984.

August 1988 Randy Olson and Boston

My nighttime world has always been populated with many interesting and challenging dreams..  In one 1987 dream, it was like the sky opened up, and “heaven” started singing a most beautiful song.  The song spoke of Boston, Massachusetts.  Then, I am flying in the dream, minus an airplane, and starting to go over what might be the Atlantic Ocean.  The message comes to me that I will be leaving Randy Olson behind for this phase of my life.  Well, OK, where did that come from, and what does it mean?  All that I knew was that I needed to travel to “Boston, Massachusetts”, and that Randy was to become less of a presence in my life from this point forward.

I did fly to Boston, not knowing what the heck I was supposed to do there. One of my teachers, the mystic and healer Joel Goldsmith, had given me extensive teaching from Mary Baker Eddy’s work, in addition to his own, which is known as the Infinite Way.  The Mother Church of the Church of Christian Scientists, is located in Boston and so I visited there.  After an aide to the head minister noted my presence and had a conversation with me, I was escorted to Mary Baker Eddy’s private study, where I was allowed to read her notes, and to meditate in one of her “holy places”.  Nobody else gets that privilege, so I may have been meant to visit there, but who knows for sure?

1992 Dream-Grandfather Great Spirit

in 1992 , while living in the Rock Creek area with Sharon, I had a most amazing dream, and for me to even be willing to share it with you is the miracle of love, and trust, that I have  (only Sharon has ever heard it , and she had no choice-she woke me up from the actual dream, fearing that I was having a horrific nightmare).

In this dream, I was in my grandfather’s home, sleeping in the bedroom that i always slept in as a child.  A “fierce, fiery cluster, or orb, of pure light and love” hovered over me, and though it did not have human form, I knew it to be “my grandfather”.  In shamanic terms, it was an actual experience of my eighth chakra, though, in my dream state, I recognized it as my deceased grandfather.  I was being drawn into his love light, and I knew that, for me to continue, this energy would destroy my body because my body was too weak to support this “fire of love” that came to me.  I did not care, for I had finally found what I was looking for, and I began to rise up, and attempt to join with it, knowing my “body” would be destroyed in the process.

Now, in real-time, in the physical world, my body was shaking and almost convulsing, and, to Sharon, my “crying and distress” showed that I was having a nightmare.  In her concern, she woke me up, and I had never felt so disappointed to have to wake up, as it ripped me away from this most remarkable inner experience.  But the dream carried many fruits with it into the world that our bodies inhabit  (Also, the prayer of gratitude-Grandfather, Great Spirit, Thank You, appeared in my mind and heart back then, as well).  I knew that if I wanted to entertain, or to even host, the higher vibrations of love, my body (both physical body and the body of thought constituting myself) I needed to be dramatically strengthened or my body would literally be destroyed, and this was part of the underlying motivation that culminated in my becoming nearly an elite athlete, by the time I was 46 years old.

In the year 2017,  this whole scenario, minus the 8th chakra (or grandfather’s dream light) played out in my real world.  In my intense desire to finally bring forth my story of hope and healing to the world, the energy unleashed caused me incredible suffering, both physical and psychological, and I knew that I was going to die, if this energy did not get transmitted in such a way that my body could survive. I am hesitant to talk of it, even now, as there is no guarantee that this body of mine is still going to hang around.  I gained access to an incredible energy field, yet, for over one year, I remain quite fatigued.. But, I know that I am supposed to be writing this account of my 1992 dream, as the “God Chills”, or horripilations, accompany my words.

May 12, 2016 Dream

My wife Sharon has known June Thomas since the 1970’s when they were neighbors in southwest Portland. I have always loved June. I have known June since 1990, when she was married to Victor (Victor died in 1996). We have spent many, many hours vacationing together, with several great hiking trips together, and one great rafting adventure through the Grand Canyon in 2014.. I sometimes had the feeling that June was some sort of spiritual sister of mine, perhaps a feminine variation of my soul, because we had so much in common. I actually lived with June in her Tacoma home for four months in 2003, when I was relocated to the Puget Sound Naval Shipyards for an electrical installation job where I helped to install a server farm for the US Navy.

June and Sharon in Las Vegas, 2017

I would like to share an interesting dream that I had in May of 2016. June, who now lives in Tucson, Arizona was visiting her sick brother Dale in Medford, Oregon, for a week in May of 2016. On a Friday evening in May, I awoke from a strange, disturbing dream. In the dream, I had fallen in an unfamiliar bathroom, and had become trapped between the toilet and the wall. When Sharon awoke, I told her about the unusual dream. It was so real to me that I was a little shaken up. Later that morning, June called Sharon, as she frequently does in the morning. June related to Sharon that she was still at Dale’s house, and that his health was not good. In the middle of the night, Dale had gone to the bathroom, fallen, and became trapped between the toilet and the wall!!!

As I look at my life’s history, I am amazed by the dreams from its Mystery

COINCIDENCE?

Are dreams really just fantasies?

Do we have the capacity to extend our awareness beyond the limits of our five senses?

Well, I know the answers to those questions, but your answers may be different, for sure!.

April 1 2017 Dream

After Friday evening’s seminar about mysticism with the Master Spiritual Teacher, Matthew Fox, we returned to our hotel room, to rest up for the next morning’s follow-up workshop on the Cosmic Christ. I had quite the deep, peaceful sleep, which lasted six hours for me. Prior to awakening, I had a most interesting, powerful dream.

What was/is fascinating about this dream is how absolutely awake I was, while having the dream.  It is a complete spiritual teaching, and for that, Great Spirit, I thank you, and my gratitude will be expressed through the life lived through me, for now and all time to come.

Curiosity only thrives in an unconditioned mind. Drink freely from its chalice of the Spirit!

In the dream, I opened a door, and walked into a room that was well-lit.  The room seemed unfamiliar to me. Inside of the room there was a man standing to the right of the entrance. He greeted me, holding a cup out to me in his hand. He gently offered it to me, and for a moment I considered what it’s contents might be. I then knew that if I drank from it, I would become “intoxicated”, but of a different nature that was still consistent with the path of “sobriety” I currently walked upon. I then noticed a table, where an opened map laid open upon it. The man walked with me to the table, still holding the cup.

I looked at the map, and it was a topographic style map, similar to what I might use for traveling and/or hiking with. There were two distinct areas to it. The path or road, on the right side of the map, had only one dark, solid line drawn from the bottom to the top of the map. But, the section on the left side of the map had several dotted lines that only remotely “paralleled” the route on the right side of the map. I had no judgement about each of the path styles, yet I remained curious about the several dotted line paths, which intersected each other, while also “snaking” their unique individual routes up the map. I noted also that the “dotted line” paths also did not ever cross the path of the solid, dark line, though all of the paths had no distinct starting, or end point.

At the Cosmic Christ workshop, Matthew asked if anyone had a dream that they wanted to share in the big group. Not being a spiritually “realized person”, I felt uncomfortable sharing the dream. But when it came time for a break, I took a book to Matthew for signing, and shared my dream with him. He refused to tell me what it might mean, but he had a smile on his face, and told me to let it tell me it’s meaning.

On our drive home, Sharon White took controls of the car, and I started telling her the dream again. It was then that the horripilations (Godchills) began in earnest, and the full meaning came through me. A complete mystical understanding, and teaching, was built into that dream, and it was then I realized that I had indeed drunk from the cup of the Spirit. Yes, I became quite “intoxicated” with Spirit, and I knew then that we had truly been blessed by the Master Teacher.

I don’t expect anybody who remains stuck in their conditioned mind, or in the rut on the right side of the map to understand this dream.  Those who travel on the left side, where the unknown and the freedom to consciously wander are represented, will understand two main points:  1).  the pathways are made of dotted lines, showing that the unknown will be a constant companion on the journey:, and 2) a lot more of the “scenery” will be covered by those who choose to live outside of the ruts in life.  Those willing to take the risk will earn the greatest reward, which is a vastly enhanced spiritual consciousness..This is the path of conscious evolution, where our curiosity and creativity drives us to create new paths of consciousness, rather than just conforming to the expectations of church, society, and family.

Mysticism, the heart of all vibrant, evolving religions, also can be a personal reality. It is not, however, for those clinging to structured understandings of life.

Not all who wander are lost—-JRR Tolkien

May 1, 2017 (from email to Marty)

Marty,

You are quite welcome. I anticipate that the process will take a bit of time to work so that it is apparent to you. Daily, or hourly, practice might be appropriate, unless your spirit tells you otherwise.

We are all blessed by our sharing last evening, so thanks to you and Eddy for providing a wonderful setting for all of us.

I awoke this morning at 2:45 am, and I had a profound “sense of the presence”, whatever that means. I could almost feel all of us gathered together again, and I asked for the “blessing” for all of us. I have no concrete proof if such an internal process actually reaches anybody outside of my “field”, but I then entered a dream state, and something profound occurred.

I dreamed that we were all together in some sort of noisy “industrial plant”, and there was an electrical system that needed reconditioning.

I don’t know if this “message” will reach you where you are at, but as I awoke, I was “told” that the security lock needed to be removed from the “electrical panel” that I was working on (me, with you and Sharon witnessing). I was wearing sound proof headsets, to protect me from the “industrial noise”. I also noted others who had already performed their “work”, noting the discards in the nearby “dumpster”. I also saw how I needed to integrate my actions with their work, though it felt like we might be getting into each others’ way at times.

Symbolically to me, it is obvious what my subconscious was communicating with me.

Letting go of the controls, trusting in “the process” and turning over our “work” to “others”, even if for a moment, is difficult while being overwhelmed with the daily “noise of the mind” and the activities of our lives, and threats to our health and well-being. But, even if we succeed in “getting the work done”, whatever that means, and how it might express itself, we have to suspend our internal guarding, as we still have to turn over the “operation” to others (trust in a higher power within our self, all the while knowing that power resides within our heart and soul).

My “higher power” has ultimate confidence in you, and sees the absolute present beauty of who you are, how you are “innocent” and Totally Not Responsible for this melanoma wounding, and it has also seen the wonderful potential of your future life. Once again, there are no guarantees, but I see this for you.

I plan on living into this dream with you, Marty.

Thanks again for a wonderful evening,

Blessings to you!

Note:  Marty died through the Death With Dignity process on September 11, 2017

May 1, 2018 -Alberto Villoldo Workshop at 1440 Multiversity

On Friday night of the workshop, Alberto asked for us to ask our Spirit for a dream. Well, I had a dream, and its essence was relevant. In it, Alberto was a non-vocal observer, watching groups of people assembling a large foundation for some sort of huge, new building. Sharon and I struggled a bit with our contribution, but it all was coming together at the end of the dream, and I could see that we were about to get our part assembled successfully. We then came together as a full assembly of participants, where a male voice gave an extended monologue about the nature of the “magnetic self”. In the dream, I countered his monologue with an extended message of my own, articulately and with precision. But then, I looked to Sharon in the dream, and asked her “Sharon, do I sound like an idiot?” I then woke up.

Yes, there I go again. Even in the dream, I doubt myself, my ability to communicate, and my “understanding”. It is my life’s challenge to make peace with that wayward voice within me that brings self-doubt, and keeps me silent, and not wanting to extend myself to others who might misinterpret me and my intentions. Thanks, father, for that! The gift that keeps on giving to me, until I transform myself enough and stop accepting it!.

,October 27, 2018

Last night I had a dream with Marty in it.  Marty came to me, and told me that nobody else could see him but me.  From this point forward, he was to be my “secret guide and friend”, and help me continue on my journey of healing and love.  He brought out a book of “therapies and treatments”, and pointed to line item number three, which I started to read.  I almost recoiled, and I recognized this as an issue that I already had confronted before.  The issues were a sense of isolation, depression, and the sense of anxiety around the unknown, or, the very issues that I was saddled with as a boy, as a young man., and even now, when I am not experiencing optimal spiritual health  I was given a view into how theses issues distorted the spiritual countenance of healthy people, almost into caricatures of themselves.  The dream ended with me feeling very much at peace with my relationship with Marty, his death, and my hope for further spiritual evolution.

Looking at my history, I see Love guiding me through Her mysteries.

Psychedelic Use In An Awakened Dream

Psychedelics, Healing Potential, and Religious/Spiritual Experience

I never saw the use of LSD or psychedelics as dangerous or self-destructive, but instead as a delightful and eye-opening vacation from all of the dark certainties and crystallized structures of thought that characterized my troubled life.  It all depends on the state of the mind, and our intentions, to determine if the use of mind altering chemicals whether is to be considered drug abuse or part of a evolved healing modality.

In the last two years, there has been several articles posted in Psychology Today, and in other scientific, spiritual and healing newsletters, about the possibility of some forms of psychedelics being useful in the treatment of depression and other mood disorders, as well as being an incredible aid to dying patients who may be facing the fear of death. I won’t necessarily be directly addressing those articles here, but modern research may be confirming what has already been witnessed by many users of these mind altering substances over the last fifty years. Psychedelics, and their use, could take a whole volume, if I were to describe and define all of my experiences with them over the period 1972-1980. I used LSD and mescaline during my high school years over twenty times, from early 1972 through the summer of 1973. In college, I did not use them hardly at all, nor did I use them much after that, perhaps using them once or twice a year until 1980, when I ceased using them altogether.

Psychedelia comes under a different class of psychotropic experience than alcohol, pot, amphetamines, narcotics, or downers. They were referred to as “mind expanding drugs” during the period of time when they were most popular, which began in the 1960’s and extending through the 1970’s period of time. I found psychedelics to be extremely challenging to use, yet they brought into my awareness some amazing and logic-defying experiences. I would even say that I even had exotic, supra-normal type of personal events, on several occasions.

My first time that I used LSD, I was a sophomore in high school. I had no desire to ever use the drug, as I was afraid of the potential effects on me. But, Pam’s friend, Terry Potter, gave me a small pill that had been saturated with LSD liquid to give to Pam. Pam, at this point of her life had no desire for the drug, so she gave it back to me and told me to return it to Terry. Well, I kept it, and then decided to try an ever so small amount of it, in case I had a dangerous reaction to it. I grabbed a razor blade, and scraped about one-fourth off of the pill, and ingested it, and then took a bus to downtown Portland, to hang out at the city library. Well, an amazing feeling overtook me about one hour later. I became euphoric, and I had never felt so good in my life! I felt peace, and love for everybody and everything, and being only fifteen years old and having never experienced such an energy before, I thought that I had found the “promised land”. There were no visual or auditory hallucinations, because the dose was so low, and that was just fine with me. It took longer than usual to sleep that night, as my mind remained on “high alert” well into the early morning hours. There was no hangover, nor did I regret taking the risk using the drug.

Another time, while still a sophomore in high school, I attended a concert at Washington Park, where a man sold me something called DMT, which he called the businessman’s LSD, because its effects only lasted 2-3 hours, versus the 10-13 hours LSD’s effects may cause. This drug is similar to the drug Ecstasy as it is now being sold in the US. I became euphoric on this drug, and I had a fascinating experience. Every person that I would encounter for the next two hours, I felt an incredible kinship with. I also felt as if I could understand them at some level way beyond my normal capacity. It was as if I was able to feel all of their good thoughts, so to speak. So, it was an experience of the elimination of fear for me when dealing with strangers, and giving me the sense of being connected with everybody at a level impossible to achieve while in normal states. A more sedate and sane variation of this experience was to come to me more “naturally” fifteen years later, after recovery from drug addiction and alcoholism.

While a senior in high school I had another LSD experience worth commenting upon. Marc Anderson, Mike Kelsey and myself had taken LSD together. Mike had already dropped out of high school, and had his own “rat castle” so we enjoyed LSD’s effects at Mike’s place, out of public view. One amazing effect was that somehow Marc and I became entrained, so that we would “see” the same hallucinations at the same time. Yes, I was taking the drug in high enough doses that hallucinations were now quite prominent. One of the biggest prolonged laughs that we all had together was when Mike turned into the Devil himself, with red horns, a tail, and a red face. Of course, Mike could not see it, but Marc and I saw him transform Exactly at the same time, and we could not stop laughing for ten minutes!!

One final experience that seems to have significance is one time I had secured a variation of LSD called Orange Sunshine, while attending a summer concert at Delta Park in north Portland. The pill itself was a small phosphorescent orange color, and boy did it pack a wallop! Any kind of visual image or scene had the likelihood of changing into almost anything else, seemingly spontaneously. When I say that the “walls were melting” at times, if I was in a room, the walls did melt with the most wonderful blending of color and sounds together. My psychological set was eliminated as well (meaning all of my personality was no longer accessible, so I was witnessing and experiencing the moment without my normal ways of experiencing reality through my conditioning). It was incredible, disorienting, wild, and transformative while under LSD’s influence. I was to have a drug induced “awakening” where I realized that I was the one controlling my very reality, and through the focus of my will and my heart I could change what I was witnessing in the world. This took on rather bizarre manifestations, with colors swirling through new images, sometimes appearing as if some sort of internal kaleidoscope were projecting images out into my visual field, ALL UNDER MY CONTROL.

When I saw how I could also experience people in a thousand different ways, depending on the position of my internal “kaleidoscope”, I came to realize that I had a lot more say in how I experienced my fellow-man than I ever realized. I can understand why Richard Alpert (Ram Dass), Timothy Leary and so many other pioneers in the modern-day exploration of human consciousness have used LSD. LSD, under the right conditions, can reveal the awesome powers, and potential, of the unconditioned human mind. It can be temporarily transformational, and potentially quite beautiful, and dangerous, as well.

Late in 1977, when my first wife Donelle was in the middle of another relapse into schizophrenic disease, Sean, Donelle, and I undertook a road trip through much of Oregon in my 1962 Buick Skylark. We traveled through much of the Oregon Coast, into Crater Lake, where we illegally camped along the lake rim, and Eastern Oregon around the Bend area. Sean and I had our normal complement of pot and alcohol, as well as a couple of doses of powerful psychedelics, and Donelle had her mental illness, and all of the sometimes bizarre manifestations of it. Sean had known my wife almost since the beginning of my relationship with her, and he was always a kind, supportive presence for her. But, Donelle’s symptoms were hard to understand, and we were both quite helpless and felt out of control in the face of her disease of the mind. Our own disease of addictions was somehow more easily mutually understood and accepted, and we could both maintain some measure of relative emotional order, even in the face of our own insanity.

One evening, we all sat around the campfire, and Donelle continued her sometimes bizarre behavior. She was hearing some sort of collection of voices, and she would talk to herself, and sometimes confuse what we were talking about with what was going on in the secrecy of her own mind. Sean and I would cast uncomfortable facial expressions to each other, and try to engage in conversation with each other solely, especially in the moments when Donelle became overly detached and unresponsive. In a moment of insight, I spoke of my helplessness in the face of managing Donelle’s disease and treatment, and the futility of all of my attempts at understanding her mental illness.

I remembered that I had a form of LSD with me, which was not only a powerful mind expanding drug, but it was also known for occasionally creating a variety of temporary negative psychological reactions including acute paranoia, which is a form of mental illness. It was then that I wanted to take the drug, and see if it would provide any insights into Donelle’s mindset, as well as how I might manage my relationship with her mental illness. Sean thought that I should give up on that thought, and stick to the pot and alcohol. But I insisted, and I took the psychedelic. I did not receive the desired illumination, but it showed that my deepest desire was to be of help to Donelle, as well as to try to understand the nature of mental illness, and how to bring a measure of healing to a most difficult life situation.

I found that the older that I got, the less of a positive experience that I had with psychedelics so I stopped all use. In 1980, I used LSD for the last time, sharing the experience with Dan Dietz.  I had trouble “coming down” from the experience, and it took two days to return to my normal “psychological set”.  That second day, I feared that I would never return to normal, and that I would be stuck for the rest of my life in this in-between state of anxiety and mental illness.  I was never tempted to use LSD again.

While there is a huge potential upside to the use of psychedelics, there can also be downside to their use, and the person contemplating mind altering drugs should research this subject, as if for an upper graduate degree. There are Ayahuasca excursions into the Amazon jungle, where the local shamans administer a concoction to the participants seeking a deeper understanding of their own life, and their spirit connection with the absolute.. There are terminal ill patients therapeutically using psychedelics, which has been shown to reduce or eliminate “death terrors” for such patients, while also providing profound guidance for those terminally ill persons. Those seeking such experiences can find appropriate therapists who have access to these drugs and are willing to administer them to the appropriate patient, but they obviously don’t advertise these capabilities on their web sites.

I do not regret ever having used a psychedelic drug. If there was a logical reason for using them again, I would consider that as a viable option. Ram Dass has many great stories around his use of psychedelics, and it is not my intention to become a cheerleader for those who continue to use them, or to become a proponent for the human experimentation of these mind altering substances, and their potential application for improving mental health and spiritual awareness.

Psychedelics worked for me, but only for a short period of time.  For now, I am quite satisfied with my connection to the “higher power” that I have developed through the practice of meditation and mindfulness, exercise, healthy food, and social connections. The positive aspects of mind expansion without drugs occurred for me much later in adulthood, and I had similar sorts of mind altering experiences, in much more natural, permanent, and less disruptive ways.

Mysteries of the Spirit And Histories of the Flesh

How do we balance the “spirit and the flesh”?  Just remember, all that we see, and experience with our five senses, is only the “flesh”, and represents the smallest part of who we are, it is only an image in our mind.  It is the “spirit” which animates the flesh, and will remain forever invisible to the human eye.  We  cannot have the one, without the other, so remember that the “body is the temple of the living God”.  Joel Goldsmith, the mystic and healer, would instruct his students to “impersonalize and nothing-ize” that which is being witnessed.  In his explanation, all is God, all that is not God is nothing, therefore see the perfection that is present, and ignore all the temptations to believe in a “self-hood apart from God”.  For, ALL IS GOD.  That is the beginning, the middle, and the ending, to THE STORY.  Your story, my story, and the story of mankind, and all of this Earth’s animals. and all life in all other places in the Universe, all share in a fundamental truth, “he that sees me, sees the “Father”, for I and the “Father” are One”.  This is not a statement only for Jesus, this is a statement for mankind.

As we watch the parade of life, and death that walks as eternal companions together, we are all impacted through witnessing, and participating, in its grand movement.  We help where we can, let go of our fantasies, let go of the thought and behavior controls over others that keep us separate from the truth being revealed,  hurt while we must, and keep our hearts open to the mystery and majesty of living life on life’s terms, and, finally, dying on its terms, as well.  There are the blessed few that even get to witness the sacred energy of life itself, as it lives, communicates, and then passes to the next experience of a new expression.  The spirit and the flesh, life and death, are all co-conspirators in this mysterious, divine plot of life.

It is healthy to acknowledge that we all need each other, and our collective, and our individual, stories should reflect this eternal truth.  I can’t do this life alone, nor would I ever want that for myself.  We are here to help each other, and to love each other. Each moment can either be a new beginning, or just the continuation of a painful past where all of human suffering arises from.  It is our choice as to how we will experience this moment.  I must be willing to travel new paths of consciousness, and never to become too attached to any particular memory, or teacher and their teachings, as it is up to me to work out my own “salvation”.  When I let go of the controls, including my own internalized forms of institutionalized thoughts, when I let go of time based thoughts and expectations, when I respect the truth that many times the presence and wisdom of the Great Unknown, rather than just more memories from the past, or information and knowledge, is what I am best fed with, that is when I am truly trusting the life force which has always supported me, whether I have recognized its presence or not.

While incarnated into human form, with our  poorly illuminated human minds, we can only witness the projections of our minds.  All that we will ever see, unto whatever eternity that we can possibly conceive of, is our self, so the most important question for each day is “how will I see myself today?”  The answer to that question determines whether I can see through the eyes of the truth of this moment, or just the limited eyes of the past.  Each person that I meet either is one of the infinite manifestations of God, deserving ultimate respect and love, or they become just another dead illusion of my aging, conditioned mind.  The insight gained through mindful self-examination can erase the blocks to Love’s awareness, and imbue life with a new meaning.  This is the foundation for all great stories of healing and forgiveness.

The ultimate truth is that “you can’t be real”.  For in God’s eyes, there is only one self, one love, one existence, with an infinitude of manifestations.  There is no room for “you and me” in ultimate truth, though we must continue to make room for that “illusion” in the relative truth of this world, through practicing forgiveness and letting go, until the final ascension into “enlightenment” or complete spiritual understanding.  Finding the true connecting link is the journey into wholeness that our human race must undertake, if it is to survive.  When we see our brother and sister as our own self, then we are home.  This connecting link is not to be found through our digital devices, or through our “best thinking” or philosophies.  It will unfold when we learn how to no longer think time based thoughts, but,  instead, eternity based thoughts.  That is the only place where Unity will ever be experienced.

Mysteries and Histories

I have a few stories from my life that have added much color and texture to my expanding view of the possibilities for human experience.  With the intersection of family history and my birth in November of 1955, the potential for some interesting, and, at times, amazing stories were created for me to tell to the world, if I ever developed the capacity to overcome the “conspiracy of silence”, find my voice and be willing to share my experiences.  The following vignettes are a few rather informal acknowledgements to some powerful and mysterious forces that have been woven through the fabric of my life since my youth.

1. My Great Uncle Worth died in February of 1955, 9 months in advance of my own birth. His photo is included here, along with his wonderful wife, Aunt Effie (who also died before I had any awareness, when I was less than a year old).

Uncle Worth and Aunt Effie (they would have been my great aunt and great uncle)

My grandparents dearly loved their Uncle Worth and Aunt Effie, as well as my mother (and I assume her brother, my uncle Wayne, as well).   When I was 4 years old, my grandfather showed me the wooden rocking chair in the photographs. I immediately recognized it, and claimed it as my own.  When I touched the chair, I had an amazing sequence of memories, like an internal abbreviated video, flood my consciousness.  I could still see the outside world, yet, there was a concurrent stream of awareness and images running simultaneously on the inner screen of my mind.

Uncle Worth’s hand made chair, given to my grandpa, who gave it to me

Somehow, in my  “altered state of consciousness” I saw something that was not immediately evident to my mother.  I told my mother that “I remembered fashioning every piece by my own hands, and assembling it together myself”. How could I have possibly done that as a 4-year-old? Of course my mother guffawed, and stated that it was a store-bought chair that my grandfather had owned it since he was a young boy, though I “knew better”.

It is now known that Uncle Worth was the original owner of the chair, HAVING BUILT EACH PIECE BY HAND, AND ASSEMBLING IT HIMSELF, and that he passed it down to Grandpa when he was a boy, who then gave it to me.

I still sit down in the chair on occasion, and I feel a mysterious, beautiful peace and a sense of completion when I sit in the chair.  To this day, the memory of the chair, and its actual presence in our home, both haunts, and comforts me.

Psychometry is a psychic ability in which a person can sense or “read” the history of an object by touching it. Such a person can receive impressions from an object by holding it in his/her hands or, alternatively, touching it to the forehead.  As a child, psychometry may have been the “source” for the information that I tried to give to my world about the chair.

Looking at my history, I remain firmly seated in the Mystery.

2. In 1985, my grandfather “died” on the operating table. The attending surgeon, Dr. Belknap, had all but given up during a surgery, where grandpa “coded”, and he was ready to be pronounced dead. Suddenly, grandpa “returned” to his body, and resumed life in his old frail body on the operating table. Later, he thanked Dr. Belknap for bringing him back to life, yet Dr. Belknap balked, claiming that he had NOTHING to do with it. Grandpa remembers a “great being of light, whom I called the Lord, extending his hand to mine. I was just about to accept his hand, and I was yanked back into my body”. As grandpa told me the story later, he had never been more disappointed in his life, to have to come back to his old, broken body. Death was his perfect release, and there was nothing on this planet that could even remotely compare to it.

Grandpa Henry and Bruce 1988

My grandfather’s health gradually deteriorated from that point. On several occasions, he asked both my wife Sharon, and myself, for a pill that would allow him to make his transition. Life in the body was punishing towards the end of his life, and he became wheelchair bound, and we all felt helpless as to what to do. My parents, my grandma (who could no longer support a wheelchair bound grandpa in his home), and my uncle and aunt would not supply support to grandpa within his home, so he was sent to a horrible local nursing home. At this point in my life, I was in no position to provide support for his body, and I did not have the capacity to provide extra spiritual support, as well. He was to die alone and in some pain, in early 1990, in that smelly nursing home. I felt like I had betrayed my grandfather, and I also judged my parents pretty harshly, as well. This experience helped me with future challenges, however, and provided a foundation for how to provide support for my dying grandmother six years later.

3. My grandmother came to live with us in July of 1995, after being discharged from the hospital for terminal lymphoma.  Sharon and I wanted to provide a loving home and setting for my grandmother, and be available to support her for the final three months of her life, rather than having her cared for by those she was unfamiliar with in a nursing home or adult foster care setting. Initially, my grandmother stayed in bed in our third bedroom, not arising for any reason other than to go to the bathroom.  We anticipated that she might die shortly, without really regaining her sharp mind and consciousness prior to her death.  One evening, she called us into her room, and she was distressed.  A band of Indians were dancing around her, wearing their ceremonial clothes, chanting, and singing.  Grandmother was semi-conscious and seeing a “vision” at the time, and did not know what to make out of it.  Part of her own “conspiracy of silence” revolved around her own shame of being one-fourth American Indian.  In the early part of the twentieth century, that fact was nothing to be proud of, and many Americans hid their heritage in shame.  The Indian dance may well have been her subconscious mind, reminding her of who she is in her wholeness, and to help her with her healing.

My grandmother “rallied” for a couple of months after that, and continued to live with us. It was an honor and a pleasure to listen to her stories about her life, show me how to make her cinnamon rolls, which I loved my entire life, and support her, emotionally, to the days near her death.  We did  not undertake any great attempts at maintaining her life in her body, nor did she have any desire to do so either.  Five days prior to her death, we relocated Grandma to the Hopewell House, a hospice home known for its loving, spiritually oriented care of the dying, when we determined that we could not provide around-the-clock care for her in her final days.  She died at peace with herself, knowing that she was loved by her family.

Grandpa (Grand Patron) and Grandma (Grand Matron) Henry-center, Order Of The Eastern Star ceremony

4. In 1987, I began practicing the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous.  I  began the amends making process, as suggested in steps eight and nine, which suggest becoming willing to make amends to all we have harmed, and then make amends, except where to do so would bring injury)

I made out my list, and, as it turned out, it was quite long.  I began with Dan Dietz, whom I had not seen since 1980.  He was now living in Pacific City, in the beach home of his parents, George and Joan Dietz.  For a time, I was considered like a fourth son to Joanie, and when Dan and I parted ways, it impacted his mother, as well.

I had heard that Dan was living with a woman, and that he might even be a father.  I drove all the way to the beach, and knocked on his door, not knowing what to expect.  A younger, red-headed woman answered, with a red-headed boy in tow.  I was told that Dan was not available (this is  during the time before cell phones were ubiquitous).  I wrote an amends letter to Dan, acknowledging my own mistakes, without making any reference whatsoever to his own.  I wished him well, and asked for his forgiveness.  I left that day, not really expecting Dan to ever contact me back, but it would have been nice had he done so.

I never heard back from Dan.  In 1996, Dan died of a heart attack.  I was called to attend his funeral by “friends” that I had not heard from since I was twenty years old.  I felt like I had already finished business with Dan, so I justified my own absence from his funeral.  After all, I had not seen Dan in over sixteen years. As I was driving home from work at Blue Heron Paper Mill in Oregon City the day after Dan’s death, I felt his presence in my car.  All of a sudden, it felt like I was “dying” or leaving my body, and I could hear Dan laugh.  I almost swerved off I-205 at sixty miles per hour, but I regained my composure.  I was to later hear that Joanie (Dan’s mother) was heartbroken that I did not attend Dan’s funeral.  I have felt both justified, and ashamed, by my choice to be absent from his funeral.  Several times in several locations I saw his older brother Tom, who did not recognize me, but I recognized him, and I chose to pretend to not know him.  My social insecurities and shame still motivate me from time to time, for sure.

5. I invited my lifelong friend, Randy Olson over to my parent’s home, where I was living,on March 13 of 1987. I was just about ready to stop drinking and drugging at that time, but the beginning of  recovery from a three-year relapse into suicidal addiction and alcoholism was still one week away for me   He came over, and he, and his girlfriend and I proceeded to down an inordinate amount of my father’s booze and wine. My parents were still “snow birding” in Arizona, and would not be home until the end of the month, so I was still able to keep my dysfunctional momentum going. Well, after partying with Randy until about 10:00 PM, Randy had to go home, so I was left alone with my horrible problems.

It was then, during a blackout, that I almost killed some innocent people, though through the experience, I had an amazing realization:  That I was insane, that the people who I had been associating with were insane, and that there might be a different way to live life to potentially restore my sanity and bring a sense of well-being to me, perhaps for the first time in my life.  After bouncing around almost two hundred AA and NA meetings over the next two months, I found a nationally known and revered speaker on AA recovery named Jack Boland, who helped facilitate a spiritual awakening with me, through a new interpretation of the twelve steps of Alcoholics Anonymous.  I was so excited about the new possibilities for my life, that I decided to go visit Randy and tell him all about it, in May of 1987.

On May 22, 1987, as I was driving toward Beaverton to visit Randy, a wonderful vision came to me. It was the vision of a loving mother, holding a baby, and I felt the love of this wonderful UNIVERSE for the first time in my lifetime. There is the love we have for each other, for our friends, our pets, our children, our families, but this love that I felt flow into me, and though me, transported me into a heightened awareness, and an awe. The beauty was too great to talk about, the feeling so overwhelming, so healing, so resurrecting. I had to stop my car on Canyon Blvd, and I got down on my knees and prayed my thankfulness to a CREATIVE FORCE that finally had found me receptive, and open, to its presence.

I made it to Randy’s house, and I met with him for the first time since my blackout experience. Randy could not believe his eyes, he said

“Bruce, what has happened to you? You look different, you look happy. You look at peace. You have changed!!!”

Yes, I had changed. I started talking to Randy about my experience, and Randy started to get tingling sensations up and down his spine. The hairs on his arms starting sticking up straight off of his arms! Randy exclaimed

“Bruce, what is going on. When you talk, I start to tingle all over. What has happened?”

“Well, I think that I am having an experience with God, Randy.”, I said.

Randy then said that such an experience was not for him right now, but he sure was happy that I was having it, because I needed something different in my life really bad, and really quick. How right he was!

So, Randy was there at the beginning of so much of the important/ significant events in my life. And, he was there at their end, as well. I could not take Randy into my new-found world of love and happiness, I could only share, ever so briefly, my personal experience of it.

6.  In 1991, my wife Sharon, and our friends Diane and Doug R traveled late one afternoon to Lafayette, Oregon, where the Trappist Abbey is located.  Sharon and I had been visiting the beautiful spiritual retreat and contemplation site for several years previous to this time, and we wanted to share the beauty of a Vesper’s service with our friends.  We were seated in the middle section of the main building used for worship.  The Brothers performed their rituals, and uttered their words in unison, then as individuals, and we all held a sacred silence together.  I heard the most beautiful angelic choir that I had ever heard, accompanied by music of such an uplifting nature that I thought my heart might burst.  I swear that the Heavens opened up, with its choir sanging to all of us.

The problem was that I was the only one who heard it, even though I thought that the music permeated the whole edifice.

This was the same style of music that I had heard in a dream in 1988.

8. (3 stories about pets).  My sister found an abandoned, or lost, eight month old white German Shepherd dog in the Clackamas wilderness area near her home in 2001.  Sharon and I ended up with the beautiful “spirit dog” as we would come to know her.  Iris was gentle with all people, small dogs and children, and she really knew how to read people, and situations almost miraculously well.  She became a devoted companion to Sharon and I, and she accompanied both of us together, and as individuals, on numerous hiking and running adventures over the seven years that she lived.  She took an immediate liking to the puppy Rocky, the rambunctious Siberian Husky that my dad got in late 2005, to replace Peaches, which he had to put down earlier in the year.

In 2007, we had two cottonwood trees fall across the center of our home.  They caused extensive damage, but to document those details is not the intent of this paragraph.  Our wonderful spirit dog Iris,  endeared herself to me in a way that will forever hold a special place in my heart.  While the tree removal service tended to the fallen trees above our home, Iris and I entered into the home, and walked through the living room towards the hallway into the bedrooms.  Suddenly, Iris, who was walking behind me,  started feverishly barking, and I turned back to her, to see what her problem was.  I took a couple of paces back to her, and right then, a six-foot long, two hundred pound piece of the tree fell through the roof, and landed EXACTLY on the spot where I had been standing when Iris barked.  It landed with such a thunder that the house shook, and then I trembled, as well.

The tree service man later said, in forty years working  his trade, he had never before lost a load.  Iris had saved my life.  She was to die at the all too young age of seven, in December of that year, waking Sharon and I to a heart piercing death shriek and howl.  We got up and held her to close to us, as her life force left her.  Sharon and I felt like we had lost a precious child.  And I felt an almost disabling guilt for a while.  I felt as if my relapse into pain killer addiction after twenty sober years was somehow responsible for her own untimely death.  A most amazing side story to this is that ONE YEAR TO THE DAY, AND TO THE MINUTE (3:45 am), after Iris’s death, my father’s dog Rocky woke up, and started howling for two minutes.  Dad reported that Rocky had NEVER done that before, and he never did it again, until the day he died, June 23, 2016.

Looking at my life’s history, my heart has been broken by the Mystery.

I secured another dog for our life in February of 2009 from a shelter in Washougal, Washington.  Our dog Ginger had kidney disease, probably since the day that we brought her home from the rescue shelter.  I was still working full-time for the Water Bureau at the time that we received her as a “rescue dog”, while Sharon had just retired as a hospice nurse from Willamette Falls Hospital.  Ginger would get nauseous two or three times a year, necessitating trips to the veterinarian to get anti-vomiting medication.  Her endurance was never as it should have been, yet we still took her most places that we liked to go while hiking or camping.  It required extra patience, because she would overheat easily due to her kidney disease, and it was best to take hikes along creeks, or carry copious amounts of water.

The last two years of her shortened life (died at eight years), we had to frequently take her to get subcutaneous injections of water from the vet, as Ginger could not successfully process water through her kidneys for extended periods of time, as they continued to fail.  The water injections kept her going, yet we all knew that her time was limited, including Ginger.  She was becoming due for yet another injection, when I sat with Ginger, in the middle of the night and I “contemplated with her” the idea of getting more fluids to sustain her life.  There was almost a light that came in our living room, even though it was 2 a.m., and she held her paw out to me, and I SWEAR that I heard her say it was time to let go.  At first, I thought that my dog was telling me that it was time for me to die, but the next week, she passed away.  On her dying day, she staggered up from our creek, where she had laid beside, to perhaps die, and in the middle of the night, came into our bedroom, laid down, and died EXACTLY in the same spot that our previous dog Iris had died.

I still have tears whenever I think of our beloved dog, Ginger.  We are blessed to have shared life with her, no matter how many challenges that she presented to us over the years.

Our cat Patches recently appeared to be near death. Sharon and I  spent much time in contemplation of her life, and we have both spent much time praying and meditating around her dying experience. On Wednesday evening in mid October of 2018, Sharon had a powerful experience where she was enveloped in a “spiritual energy”, and she knew that all was well with our beloved cat, and that her death was appropriate, if it happened now. On Thursday evening, I spent several hours in prayer and meditation, and much physical engagement with our cat (I would place one hand on her head, another on her back, and visualize love and healing coming through her, with her eventually falling asleep with her head in my hand). Just as I started to fall asleep, I entered a “transcendent state of awareness” which I don’t even have words to describe. Something beautiful, infinite, and peaceful came upon me, and I have no explanation for it.

We had taken her to the vet, and the vet had given her fluids, anti-emetics, and pain-killer, which blunted the painful aspects of what looked like a process of dying, yet there seemed to be another component to this process. In a moment of insight, I saw that I may have been transferring my own fear and inaccurate assessments of the cat, its true nature, and its capacity for healing and wholeness. I “prayed” and meditated for many hours over this, and I was rewarded with a special “visitation of the Spirit”, where something totally beyond my capacity to understand took over my consciousness for a period of time, and gave me reassurance that all was well. Coincidence or not, Patches began a fairly rapid recovery from near death over the next three days, and is now eating and drinking and moving almost as well as she did prior to her deteriorating health experience.

7.  My mother was always quite the independent person, and she tried hard at everything that .she attempted. It was tough watching her in the later years, as she gradually lost so much to the ravages of aspects of her aging, and then a disease process. Losing her knees, losing her smile when her face was tore open from a fall, losing her balance frequently and falling, bruising herself horribly, yet she was a determined woman, and was not defined by those limitations, but instead by what she continued to accomplish in life. She played golf almost to the end.

Her continued participation in water aerobics, though,  was the source of the MRSA infection that cost her life, have taken an unhealed wound to the pool.  On her last healthy day of living, one week prior to her death she still made it to her volunteer job with the Portland Visitor’s Center, a job that she had worked at for years and enjoyed immensely, along with the friendships she developed there. It was an amazing, excruciatingly rapid decent unto death the next week from that Friday afternoon return from her job.

The following Sunday evening, my mother had taken extremely ill, and I feared for her life.  Sharon and I visited with her, and I brought her foods that might better agree with her nauseous feelings.  I told my mother that I feared that she might die, and I wanted to take her to the hospital.  She refused to go, stating that she was scheduled to go in the next morning anyway, and that she could make it one more night.  Well, she couldn’t make it, and collapsed on the floor next to her bed sometime in the middle of the night.  My father was totally incompetent as to how to handle it, yelling at mom to get up, throughout the night and she could not. He was too incompetent to even call us to come up and help.  Sharon called early the next morning, and, upon hearing what had happened,  called the ambulance, after driving up first thing.  Sharon stayed to assist, and I was counseled to go to work, and meet up with Mom in the hospital when I got off from work.

I so wanted to be a better son, and help her towards healing, if possible, her last week, but my insouciance around her dying process humbled me, and left me grieving at levels I have never even before touched. Being part of the family decision-making process around turning off my mother’s life support machines left me devastated and depressed.  She had left an advanced directive indicating that no extraordinary medical measures were to be undertaken to maintain her life, so at least we honored her living requests.  Yet, I was left with the question in my mind, had I really honored her spiritual needs, and intentions.

I still await a happier ending for this story of my mother.  I know that I could put a more positive spin on it, yet, at this moment, this is how I remember the end of her life.   There is a better story to be told that represents a higher understanding and more compassionate truth about my mother’s death.   Right now, I just continue to plug along with my prolonged grief process, and continued gratitude for her presence in my life up to her death, and for the positive memories that I have for her even in her absence.

8.  It was tough watching my father deteriorate, which began in earnest after his radiation treatment for prostate cancer in 2005. After mom died in 2009, Sharon and I had him over for dinner every evening. He was anxious, and suffered horribly from grief, and deteriorating cognitive health. I took him to the doctor’s office for treatment for depression in late 2009, and the doctor ending up prescribing antidepressants for me instead. He continued to threaten to kill himself, and I had to locate all of his guns, and empty them. In the process of emptying his rifle, I almost shot myself in the foot, sending a bullet through his bedroom floor.

Within three more years, late in 2012, Sharon insisted that Dad have his driving competency evaluated, as he appeared to no longer be capable of driving safely. When the doctor confirmed that Dad should no longer drive, my life as I knew it came to an end. The loss of his independence also became my own loss, as well. I became responsible for 100 percent of Dad’s life, health, nutrition, meals, baths, finances, home and lawn care, and spiritual support. Dad no longer managed his life, other than dressing himself, going to the bathroom (mostly), smoking his cigars, and eating the food placed in front of him

The family up at High Rock,in Clackamas County wilderness area watching the total solar eclipse in August of 2017

Some of my father’s statements about death and dying are as follows:

Gone but not forgotten

It’s hard to grow old gracefully.  But, it sure beats death!

When I get to heaven, I am going to have a talk with the Old Man. The wife is supposed to outlive the husband!

I am in no hurry to die, as Nobody has ever come back from death and told us how good it is there.

The good books says that we will all meet again.  What do you say about that, son?.

Oh, those rich men.  They have all of the money in the world, and they still die just like the rest of us.

I found a way to love that man on deeper and more profound levels, as I continued to release my own expectations of how he should be, and how he should live. His sole concerns became his love for his dog, Rocky, and maintaining residence in his own home until his own death. He had lost all short-term memory, and was basically unteachable the last 5 years of his life, though he maintained his dignity, his sense of self, his recognition of his family, and his love for his children, including my wife Sharon. At the beginning of 2016, I finally hired a support person to help me with Dad’s care, a loving young woman by the name of Madison. She helped for about 15 hours per week, which went a long way to take some of the burden off of Sharon and me.

Dad and Rocky, Kerr Island 2015

When Rocky died in June of 2016, ten days after our own dog Ginger’s death, Dad’s final thread of love and companionship with his past was snapped. He asked me over 5000 times where Rocky had disappeared to, after his dog’s death. I watch my father call out 30 times or more, Every Day, to his deceased dog, Rocky. We made up a sign for him, so that he can see, in writing, that his dog is dead, that it died of old age, and that he is ‘in heaven’. But, he never truly got it, because his short-term memory was gone. At times, I felt compelled to set him straight, and tell him he is neglecting this moment, where Sharon White and i lived, and instead he was worshiping the dead,, where all of his grief and losses reside, but of course he quickly lost that. My heart broke for him, and for all of us

One of our last two dinners out with Dad, August 2017. This one was at Stone Creek Inn at Carver, Oregon

Our presences were just not quite enough to make all OK with Dad. But, we made him as comfortable as we could until his last days. He never took one medication, nor was I about to force one onto him. Dad’s final four years were a real labor of love for me, forcing me into early retirement from work, and the experience almost tanked me. But I learned how to love another human being unconditionally and completely, though the lesson plan exacted a price from me. I am only just now coming out from under the spells of anxiety and stress around the experience of care giving for my Dad, as well as being fully present for my friend Marty for the several months prior to his own death, which occurred five days prior to Dad’s death.

The last conversation that I had with my father was 6 hours before his death.

This is what we exchanged with each other:

Dad, you are still in bed, and its 2:30 in the afternoon, what’s up, it’s such a beautiful day outside.

You know son, I am always tired now, but I am about to get up.

Well, Dad, this might be the last sunny day in a long time, so why don’t you get up, and go out on the porch and have a cigar? I’ll put a chocolate bar on your table, and a drink for you.

I’ll get right up son. By the way, who is caring for me this evening?

Well, Dad, Madison is caring for you this evening.

Oh, poor Madison!

Dad, Madison benefits by being with you, as you do with her.

I will be with you beginning this Sunday morning, and I will be with you for the next three weeks as usual. You know we are planning one final trip to Hawaii with you, right?

Oh son, I am happy just staying at home. I have everything that I need here.

Well, OK dad. I am going to leave now, as I need to prepare for Marty’s funeral tomorrow.

When will I see you again, son?

Dad, it will be Sunday morning, OK?

OK, son, you know that I am dependent on you. Please take care of yourself.

Oh, dad, you know that I am dependent on you, too. You be careful too!

I love you, son.

I love you too, Dad.

I leave his room, not knowing this is to be our last exchange.

The next day, at 10:58am, as I stand in back of the hearse, as a pall bearer in Marty Crouch’s funeral, I prepare to receive Marty’s body to place into the hearse. I receive a call from Madison, which I cannot take, so I hand the phone to Sharon. Sharon is informed that my father is deceased. Sharon has to leave the service for our friend, and tend to my fathers’ body.

Oh, father, you really knew how to place your unique stamp on my life, didn’t you?

My father died on September 15, 2017. Dad died in his own bedroom on a Friday evening, and had the look of awe and wonder in his eyes and face. He had found his promised land, where loneliness, depression, and dementia disappears, and where ‘bums’ are converted back into the saints and angels that they always were, but were rarely recognized by others as being so. It took nearly my entire life to release my own misunderstanding and judgement towards my father, and allow for him to express himself in the only way that he knew how to, while still providing a loving protection for him in his time of greatest need.

13.  In 2017, our friend Marty C. had a recurrence of metastatic melanoma, with a golf ball sized cancer node appearing in the left hemisphere of his brain. While visiting Marty in the hospital, Sharon and I asked Marty if he would rather bypass the surgery to remove the tumor, and just live out his life. I had even mentioned to him that an insight that I had revealed that this type of cancer was intractable, was not to be negotiated with, and would probably lead into death for him. He had the blessing of his wife, and he already had the surgery scheduled, and his perception was that it was a worthwhile risk to continue treatment, so he went ahead with the surgery, full well knowing that other metastasis might appear, even within the brain.

Marty, Sharon, and Me on a hike during healthier times

The greatest challenge for me, as a friend, and eventually, as one of Marty’s spiritual advisors  was when we approached the potential for “spiritual healing” together. I had a series of dreams, psychic connections, and insights which indicated a path to healing for Marty. He  deteriorated, having trouble separating his dream state from his waking state upon getting up every morning, and he felt quite threatened by his loss of feeling in his left side.  I held much hope (actually, certainty) that there was some sort of healing to be in his near future. Yet, while hope and expectation remained within me, and, in fact, burned within me, Marty chose the Death with Dignity process, even as he regained use of his left arm in the days leading up to his death. It was more important for Marty to remain in control, and choose his day of death, than to allow the potential for the cancer to dictate when and how he died. It was quite a shock to me emotionally and spiritually, and a part of me felt betrayed, and traumatized by his decision.

The balance of life, between supporting life in the body, and life in the spirit, can get a little confusing for those attached to one outcome or another.  The liminal space from one experience of life to another, even including death itself, is a most challenging period in anybody’s life.

It sure is for me!

I have some final thoughts about Life (well, for this moment):

In the end, we need not fear that our stories will never be heard by the world  The closer we get to “truth” or to “God” , the more unitive our stories become, and the more the personal self and its story gets united with the collective in the telling of the Great Story.

We live on, because we are part of the Great Story.  We need not fear anonymity, and we now celebrate it because we are part of the wholeness and light of life, and no longer just another black hole in life.

If it is a desire from the Heart, never stop seeking that which seems unattainable.

To see eternity, is to first witness the self without fear and judgement, and then see through the illusions of self with its time-based thoughts to the Heart of Truth.  Our bodies will never enter into this space, for here is where immortality resides.  We may not be immortal, yet we may drink at its fountains, for as long as we live.

Our world view determines the life that we live, the life that we share with others, and our hope for the future of our world.

There will always be people not living up to their potential.  That is never an excuse for us not to live up to our own.

Let’s celebrate life, love, peace, and goodness, today.

Let’s all live life to the fullest until it is time to say goodbye.

The question from my father should be changed from

“Son, will we see each other on the other side?”,

to

“Son, will we see each other for what we really are, in truth and with love ?”

With that answer given in the affirmative, even the fear of death can be overcome

Namaste!

Donelle Mae Flick Paullin (2/18/1955-11/20/2022)

Donelle’s senior yearbook photograph