Category Archives: Ontology

Dream reality is closer to the true nature of events.

Dreams often seem chaotic because our point of reference is too small to contain the added dimensions of actuality. Again, in a manner of speaking, events are far more circular in nature. In dreams we can experience the past or future. Physical events are actually formed now, in our terms, because of the interactions between past and future, which are not separate in actuality, but only in our perception.

A dream is like the snap of a rubber band, but it is not the rubber band. We read newspapers and keep in constant physical communication with others of our kind. The news affect “future” events. Individuals and governments take such communications into consideration when they made their decisions. The newspapers are not the events they discuss, though they are their own kind of events. The written news story is actually composed of a group of symbols. Through reading we learn how to interpret these. If we watch news on television we have a larger view of given news event. When we are viewing a war in a newscast, however, we are still not watching people die. We are watching symbols translated into images that are then visually perceived. The images stand for the people, but they are not the people. The symbols carry the message, but they are not the event the depict.


Some of our dreams are like newspaper stories, informing us of events that have happened in other portions of the psyche. Others are like the televised news picture, carrying perhaps more information about the event but still containing it.

Psychologically and physically, however, we send out dream bulletins all the while in a constant inner communication. On this level individual dreams help form mass reality, yet also to some extent arise from it in the same way that local weather conditions contribute to world weather conditions, while they are formed by them at the same time.


Our earth exists in the context of the physical universe. We exist in the context of our psyche. The events that we recognize as real are dependent upon all of the other events occurring within our psyche, even as the existence of the earth is dependent upon the other aspects of the physical universe.

Events as we understand them are only intrusions of multidimensional activities into space and time. Events are reflections of our dreams even a our dreams reflect the events we know; those we experienced, and those we anticipate in one way or another. In a manner of speaking, then, and without denying the great validity of our experience, events as we know them are but fragments of other happenings in which we are also intimately involved. The inner multidimensional shape of events occurs in a framework that we cannot structure, however, because as a rule we are not focused in that direction. We prefer to deal with activities that can be physically manipulated.


The physical manipulation of events is indeed a psychological knack of considerable merit, in which consciousness and attention are exuberantly and wholeheartedly focused, bringing vitality and meaning to one relatively small range of activity.

I don’t mean to deny the validity of that experience, but to point out its specialized nature. By its nature, however, that precise specialization and tuning of consciousness in to space and time largely precludes other less-specialized encounters with realities. Dreams often present us with what seems to be an ambiguity, an opaqueness, since they lack the immediate impact of psychological activity with space and time. From our viewpoint it seems often that dreams are not events, or that they happen but do not happen. The lack of normal time and space intersections means that we cannot share our dreams with others in the way that we can share waking events. Nor can we remember dream events — or so it seems — as we do our normal conscious experience. In actual fact we remember consciously only certain highlighted events of our lives, and ordinary details of our days vanish as dreams seem to.


We have a dream memory, of course, though we are not aware of it as a rule. There is a craft involved in the formation of events. We perform this craft well when dreaming. Events-making begins before our birth, and the dreams of unborn children and their mothers of merge. The dreams of those about to die often involve dream structures that already prepare them for future existence. In fact, towards death a great dream acceleration is involved as new probabilities are considered– a dream acceleration that provides psychic impetus for new birth.

The earth has an atmosphere we recognize.

In our limited space travel we take for granted the fact that different conditions will be met from those encountered upon our planet.

There are alterations taken into our calculations, so astronauts know ahead of time that they can expect to encounter weightlessness, for example. Our ideas and experience with space and matter, however, are determined by our own sense apparatus. What matters to us might be an “empty space” for being equipped in an entirely different fashion. Our conscious mind as we understand it is the “psychological structure” that deals with conditions on a physical basis. Sense data is served up, so to speak, more or less already packaged. The greater inner reality of the psyche, however, is as extensive as outer space seems to be.


When information “falls” into our conscious mind from those vaster areas, then it also is changed as it travels through various levels of psychological atmosphere, until it finally lands or explodes in a series of images or thoughts.

We are bombarded with such “alien intrusions.” The focus of our consciousness blots these out while we are in a normal waking state. There are falling stars everywhere tumbling through the heavens, for example, though we only see some of these in the night sky. It is important during the day that a screening process be used, so that the precision of our actions can be maintained. Again, however, that fine precision rests upon an endless amount of information that impinges onto other levels of our psychological reality. That data then becomes the raw material, so to speak, from which our physical events are formed.


In the dream state, with our body more or less safe and at rest, and without the necessity for precise action, those psychological intrusions become more apparent. Many of our dreams are like the tail end of a comet: Their real life is over, and we see the flash of their disappearance as they strike our own mental atmosphere and explode in a spark of dream images. They are transformed, therefore, as they travel through our own psychological atmosphere. We cannot perceive them in our own state — nor can they maintain their native state as they plunge through the far reaches of the psyche. They fall into patterns, forming themselves naturally into dream contents that fit the contours of our own minds. The resulting structure of the dream suits our reality and no other: As this intrusive matter falls, plummets, or shifts through the levels of our own psychological atmosphere, it is transformed by the conditions it meets.


Raindrop patterns in a puddle follow certain laws having to do with the contours of the land, the weather, the nature of the rain, of the clouds, the height from which the raindrops fall, and the conditions operating in the nearby and far portions of the world. If we could properly understand all of that, then by looking into a single puddle we could tell the past and present weather conditions for the entire planet, and follow the probabilities in terms of storms, or volcanic eruptions. We cannot do this, of course, yet it is possible.

Dreams patter down into psychological puddles. They follow the contours of our psychological reality. They create ever-moving psychic patterns in our minds, rippling outward. The rain that hits our backyard as warm drops, soft and clear, may be hailing in areas far above our rooftop! But it might also come down to us, harming buildings, cars and humans alike – making us witness the glory of Mother Nature. While we look for hail damage repair for all the materialistic things near us, do we stop to wonder about the how Nature often represents us, in ways that we often tend to overlook? How often do we stop and think about the similarity between these ‘alien intrusions’ and our dreams – very much representing the raindrops – for at other “higher” levels they may have quite a different form indeed. As much as Nature leads us to specialist repair shops (similar to a body shop Lynchburg) to repair our damaged materialistic possessions, it also gives us the beauty of believing and witnessing how broken too, could look just as beautiful.


There are gullies, hills, mountains, valleys, large continents, small islands upon the earth, and the falling rain fits itself to those contours. Our own thoughts, dreams intents, emotions, beliefs– these are the natural features of our mind, so that information, impinging upon our mental world, also follows those contours.

If there is a gully in our backyard, it will always collect the rain that falls. Our beliefs are like receptive areas — open basins — that we use to collect information. Intrusive data will often fall into such basins, taking on the contours, of course. Beliefs are ways of structuring reality. If we over-structure reality, however, then we will end up with a formal mental garden — whose precise display may be so rigidly structured that the natural aspect of the plants and the flowers is completely obscured. Even our dream information, then, will flow into structured patterns.


We know that the natural world changes its form constantly. Objects, however, follow certain laws of a physical nature as we experience them, just as violets on the ground do not suddenly change into rocks.

These conditions, however, only exist at the conscious level of our perception. The larger psyche deals with the greater dimension of events, and the dream state itself is like a laboratory in which our waking reality is constructed. The physical earth is bombarded in the same way by phenomena important to out survival. In the laboratory of dreams this information is processed, collected, and finally formed into the dreams that we may or may not remember; dreams that are already translations of other events, shaped into forms that we recognize.


Each dream we remember is quite legitimate in the form in which we recall it, for the information has broken down, so to speak, fitting the contours of our own intents and purposes. But such a dream is also a symbol for another unrecalled event, a consciously unrecorded “falling star,” and a clue as to how any environment if formed.

Waking events happen and vanish quickly.

They are experienced directly with the senses fully participating, but for the instant involvement we give up larger dimensions of the same actions that exist, but beneath the senses’ active participation.


In dreams the preparations for experienced events take place, not only in the most minute details but in the larger context of the world scene. Events are connected one to the other in a psychic webwork that is far more effective than our physical technological system of communication. Here, reality codes are utilized. Knowledge is received and transmitted in electromagnetic patterns so that one pattern can carry far more units of information than anything we have technologically speaking. Each cell in the body does its part in picking up such signals and transmitting them. Some decoding also takes place at that level, so that pertinent information is sent where it belongs, physically speaking.


Much information does not even reach the brain (the mind is aware of such data, however). In man or woman, the psychic-physical structure has at every moment a complete up-to-date picture of pertinent information about all events that will in any way affect the organism. All actions are taken with this information available. In the dream state such data become transformed, again, into pseudo-physical pictures — reflections of events that might occur, previews of probable sequences. These are flashed before a consciousness that momentarily focuses upon the inner rather the outer arena of reality.

Now these previews are played out not only for the mind but for the body as well. In sleep, each cell calculates the effect of various probable events upon its own reality. Computation are made so that the body’s entire response can be ascertained ahead of time, and the advantages and disadvantages weighed. The body participates in dreaming at the most minute levels.


The atoms and molecules themselves possess kinds of consciousness impossible for us to analyze, because the scales of our activities are so different. They are information-gathering processes, however, containing codified electromagnetic properties that slip between all of our devices. The atoms and molecules and all of the seemingly smaller “particles” within them are, again, information-carrying processes, and upon them depends our entire interpretation of the nature of events.

Cellularly-attuned consciousness generates dreams. Consciousness, riding on a molecular back, generates a physical reality and events suited to it.


Thought takes time, and exists by virtue of cellular composition. Consciousness not focused in cellular construction involves itself with a kind of direct cognition, involving comprehensions that come in a more circular fashion.


The creative act is our closest experience to direct cognition. While our consciousness thinks of itself in physical terms, whether we are living or dead, then we will still largely utilize thinking patterns with which we are familiar. Our consciousness is cellularly attuned in life, in that it perceives its own reality through cellular function that forms the bodily apparatus. The psyche is larger than that physically attuned consciousness, however. It is the larger context in which we exist. It is intertwined with our own reality as we think of it. On those occasions when we are able to to alter our focus momentarily, then the psyche’s greater experiences come into play. We are able to at least sense our existence apart from its cellular orientation. The experience, however, is circular, and therefore very difficult to verbalize or to organize into our normal patterns of information.

Information flows, at such a rate and in such quantities that we could not possibly process any but a small portion.

Our physical senses, act almost like a biological alphabet, allowing us to organize and perceive certain kinds of information from which we form the events of our world and the contours of our reality.


Our conscious knowledge rests upon an invisible, unspoken, psychological and physical language that provides the inner support for the communications and recognized happenings of conscious life. These inner languages are built up as cords, and cords are psychic organizational units from which, then, all alphabets are born. Alphabets imply cords, but cannot contain then , any more than English can contain Russian, French, Chinese, Tagalog, or any combination. If we try to speak English we cannot speak Chinese at the same time. One precludes the other, even while one implies the existence of the other, for to the degree all languages have some common roots.


In a way events are like the spoken components of language, yet voiced in a living form — and not for example only sounded. These are based upon the sensual alphabet, which itself emerges from non-sensual cords. A sentence is built up as words, parts of speech, verbs, and adjectives, subjects and predicates, vowels and syllables, and underneath there is the entire structure that allows us to speak or read to begin with. To some extent, events are built up in the same fashion. We form and organize sentences, yet we speak on faith, with out actually knowing the methods involved in our speaking. So we only recognize the surface of that activity.


In the same way we form events, often without being aware that we do so. It seems that events happen as it seems words are spoken. We were taught how to construct sentences in school, and we learned how to speak from our elders. We were involved with event-making before the time of our birth. The psyche forms events in the same way that the ocean forms waves — except that the ocean’s waves are confined to its surface or to its basin, while the psyche’s events are instantly translated, and splash out into mass psychological reality. In waking life we meet the complete event, so to speak. We encounter events in the arena of waking consciousness. In the dream state, and at other levels of consciousness, we deal more directly with the formation of events. We are usually as unaware of this process as we are in normal practice of the ways in which we form our sentences, which seem to flow from us so automatically.

The psyche, as it is turned toward physical reality, is a creator of events, and through them it experiences its own reality as through our own speech we hear our voice.


In dreams, then, we are involved in the inner process by which physical events are formed. We deal with the psychological components of actions which we will, awake, form into the consecutive corporal “language” that results in the action of our days.

The events that we recognize as official have a unitary nature in time that precludes those probable versions of them, from which they arose — versions that appeared to one extent or another in the dream state. Again, if we speak the English sentence “I am here,” you cannot speak the Chinese version at the same time. In that regard, in our framework of action we choose to “speak” one event rather than another. Our formulation of events, however, does not simply reside in our unique psychological properties, of course, but is possible because of the corporal alphabet of the flesh.


Now as it is possible for any one human being to speak more than one language, it is also possible for us to put physical data together in other ways than those usually used. The body is capable then of putting together different languages of reality. In usual terms, for example, our body can only be in one place at one time, and our experience of events is determined in large measure by our body’s position. Yet there are biological mechanisms that allow us to send versions or patterns of our body outside of its prime position, and to perceive from those locations. In sleep and dream states we do this often, correlating the newly perceived data with usual sense information, and organizing it all without a qualm. For that matter, the preciseness of our flexibility, which gives us a broad base from which to form our secure focus.

Events emerge like spoken words, then, into our awareness. We speak, yet who speaks, and in our briefest phrase, what happen? The atoms and molecule within our vocal cords, and lungs and lips, do not understand one word of the language they allow us to speak so liquidly. Without their cooperation and awareness, however, not a word would be spoken.


Yet each of those nameless atoms and molecules cooperates in a vast venture, incomprehensible to us, that makes our speech possible, and our reality of events is built up from a “cord” of activity in which each spoken word has a history that stretches further back into the annals of time than the most ancient of fossils could remember. I am speaking in our terms of experience, for in each word spoken in our present, we evoke that past time, or we stimulate it into existence so that its reality and ours are coexistent.

In dreams even the past is in present tense. Events are everywhere forming. We make and remake the past as well as the future. We choose from those experiences certain ones as events in normal waking reality.


While we can only speak one sentence at a time, and in but one language, and while that sentence must be sounded one vowel or syllable at a time, still it is the result of a kind of circular knowledge or experience in which the sentence’s beginning and end is known simultaneously. If the end of it were not known, the beginning could not be started so expertly.


In the  same way the experienced event occurring in time is dependent upon a circular happening, in which beginning and end are entwined, not one occurring before the other, but coexistent.

The body reacts to information about the environment.

Information which we are not consciously concerned. That same information is highly important to the body’s integrity, however, and therefore to our own mental stance.

On cellular levels the body has a picture not only of its own present condition, but of all those aspects of the physical environment that affect its own condition. In its own codified fashion it is not only aware of local weather conditions, for example, but of all those world patterns of weather upon which the local area is dependent. It then prepares itself ahead of time to meet whatever challenges of adjustment will be necessary. It weighs probabilities; it reacts to pressures of various kinds.


We are aware of pressure through touch, but in another version of that sense entirely, the cells react to air pressure. The body knows to the most precise degree the measurements involving radiation of all kinds. At one level, the body itself has a picture of reality of its own, upon which our conscious reality must be based — and yet the body’s terms of recognition or knowledge exist in terms so alien to our conscious ones as to be incomprehensible. Our conscious order, therefore, rides upon this greater circular kind of knowledge.

Generally speaking, the psyche has the same kind of instant overall comprehension of psychological events and environments as our body has of physical ones. It is then aware of our overall psychological climate; locally, as it involves us personally, and in world terms.


Our actions take place with such seeming smoothness that we do not realize the order involved. A volcanic eruption in one corner of the world will ultimately affect the entire earth in varying degrees. An emotional eruption will do the same thing on another level, altering the local area primarily but also sending out its ripples into the mass psychological environment. The psyche’s picture of reality, then, would be equally incomprehensible to the conscious mind because of the intense focus upon singularity that our usual consciousness requires.

Our dreams often give us glimpses, however, of the psyche’s picture of reality in that regard.


We become aware of probabilities, as actions sometimes that seem to have no connection with our own, but which are still related to them in that greater scheme of interaction that ordinarily we do not comprehend.

When we grow from a baby to an adult we do not just grow tall: we grow all about oneself, adding weight and thickness as well. To some extent events “grow” in the same fashion, and from the inside out, as we do. In a dream we are closer to those stages in which events are born. In our terms they emerge from the future and from the past, and are given vitality because of creative tension that exists between what we think of as our birth and our death. We make sentences out of alphabet of our language. We speak these or write them, and use them to communicate. Events can be considered in the same fashion, as psychological sentences put together from the alphabet of the senses — experience sentences that are lived instead of written, formed into perceived history instead of just being penned, for example, into a book about history.


Our language to some extent programs our experience. There is a language of the senses, however, that gives us biological perception, experience, and communication. It forms the nature of the events that we can perceive. It puts experience together so that it is physically felt. All of our written or verbal languages have to be based upon this biological “alphabet.” There is far greater leeway here than there is in any of our spoken or written languages.


I use the word “cord” to express the source out of which such languages spring. There are many correlations of course between our language and our body. Our spoken language is dependent upon our breath, and even written language is dependent upon the rapidity with which messages can leap the nerve endings. Biological cords then must be the source for physical languages, but the cords themselves arise from the psyche’s greater knowledge as it forms the physical mechanism to begin with.


Dreams are a language of the psyche, in which man’s and woman’s nature merges in time and out of it. Man and woman have sense experiences. He/she runs, though he or she lies in bed. He/she shouts though no word is spoken. He/she still has the language of the flesh, and yet that language is only opaquely connected with the body’s mechanisms. He/she deals with events, yet they do not happen in his or her bedroom, or necessarily in any place that he or she can find upon awakening.

Daily language deals with separations, divisions, and distinctions

To some extent our language organizes our feelings and emotions. The language of the psyche, however, has at its command many more symbols that can be combined in many more ways, say, than mere letters of an alphabet.


In daily language, objects have certain names. Obviously the names are not the objects, but symbols for them. Even these symbols, however, divide us as the perceiver from the rest of the world, which becomes objectified. We can ourselves understand far more about the nature of the psyche, for example, than we think we can. To do this, however, we must leave our daily language behind at least momentarily, and pay attention to our own feelings and imagination. Our language tells us that certain things are true, or facts, and that certain things are not. Many of our most vivid and moving feelings do not fit the facts of our language, so we disregard them.


These emotional experiences, however, often express the language of the psyche. It is not that an understanding of our psyche is beyond us: It is usually that we try to understand or experience it in one of the most difficult ways — Through the use of daily language.

The imagination belongs to the language of the psyche. For this reason it often gives experiences that conflict with the basic assumptions upon which daily language is based. Therefore the imagination is often considered suspect.


We might stand alone in our doorway, or in a field — or even on a street, surrounded by many people in a large city — look upward, suddenly struck by the great sweeping clouds above, and feel oneself a part of them. We might momentarily experience a great yearning or feel our own emotions suddenly filled with that same moving majesty, so that for an instant we and the sky seem to be one.

Mundane language tells us, as we think with its patterns, that our imagination is running away with us, for obviously we are one thing and the sky is another. Us and the sky do not equate — or as friend Spock would say: “It is not logical.” The feeling swiftly fades after bemusing us briefly. We might be spiritually refreshed, yet as a rule we would not consider the feeling to be a statement of any legitimate reality, or a representation of our psyche’s existence.


The emotions and the imagination, however, give us our closest contact with other portions of our own reality. They also liberate our intellect so that its powers are not limited by concepts it has been taught are true. Instead, such concepts are relatively true — operationally true. For example, the example, the physical laws that we are familiar with operate where we are. They are true, relatively speaking. In those terms we are one person physically objectified, staring upward in the scene just mentioned at an objectified sky. We weigh so many pounds, tilt our head at such-and-such an angle to peer upward at the skyscape, and physically speaking, we can be categorized.

In those terms the clouds could be physically measured, and shown to be so far above us — composed of, say, winds of a certain velocity, ready to pour down a precise amount of rain or whatever. Physically speaking then, obviously, we are separate from the clouds, and so in those terms our momentary experience of uniting with them would seem to be a lie — at least not factual, or “the product of our imagination.”


Instead, such an event is a direct expression of the psyche’s knowledge. It senses its quite legitimate identification with nature, exercises its mobility, and feel its own emotional power leap. Our emotions in such a case would be momentarily magnified — raised, say, to a higher power. There are multitudinous such examples that could be given, as in each day our psyche presents evidence of its own greater being — evidence that we are taught to overlook, or to dismiss because it is factual.

What is imaginary is not true: We are taught this as children. The imagination, however, brings us into connection with a different kind of truth, or a different framework in which experience can be legitimately perceived. The larger truths of the psyche exist in that dimension.


From it we choose physical facts. Thoughts are real. Only some thoughts turn into physical actions, of course. Despite distorted versions of that last statement, however, there is still obviously a distant difference, say, between the though of adultery and its physical expression.


We cannot treat thoughts and imagination in such a literal manner, nor in a large respect should we try to “guard our thoughts” as if they were herds of animals that we wanted to keep purely bred. Our thoughts do form our reality. If we do not fear them, however, they create their own balances. The psyche dwells in a reality so different from the world we usually recognize that there good and evil, as we think of them, are also seen to be as operationally or relatively true as the difference between the perceiver and the object perceived.

The physical world implies the existence of God

God’s existence also implies the existence of a physical world.

This statement implies the unstated, and the reverse also applies.

To deny the validity or importance of the individual is, therefore also to deny the importance or validity of God, for the two exist one within the other, and we cannot separate them.

From one end of reality we shout: “Where is God?” and from the other end the answer comes: “I am Me.” From the other end of reality, God goes shouting: “Who am I?” and finds himself in us. We are therefore a part of the source, and so is everything else manifest. Because God is, we are. Because we are, God is.

On a conscious level certainly we are not all that God is, for that is the unstated, un-manifest portion of oneself. Our being rides upon that unstated reality, as a letter of the alphabet rides upon the inner organizations that are implied by its existence. In those terms our unstated portions “reach backwards to Source called God,” as various languages can be traced back to their source. Master language can be compared to the historic gods. Each person alive is a part of the living God, supported in life by the magnificent power of nature, which is God, translated into the elements of the earth and the universe.

Almost any question that we can ask of God, can be asked of the Psyche as well.

It seems to us that we know ourselves, but that we take the existence of our psyche on faith. At best, it often seems that we are all that we know of our psyche, and we will complain that we do not know oneself to begin with. When we say: “I want to find myself,” we usually take it for granted that there is a completed, done, finished version of oneself that we have mislaid somewhere. When we think of finding God, we often think in the same terms.

We are “around ourselves” all the time. We are ever becoming oneself. In a manner of speaking we are “composed” of those patterns of oneself that are everywhere coming together. We cannot help but be oneself. Biologically, mentally, and spiritually we are marked as apart from all others, and no cloak of conventionally can ever hide that unutterable uniqueness. We cannot help but be ourselves.


In a way, physically we are a molecular language that communicates to others, but a language with its own peculiarities, as if speaking an accepted tongue we spoke with a biological accent that carried its own flavor and meaning.

When we ask: “What is my psyche, or my soul, or who am I?” we are seeking of course for our own meaning as apart from what we already know about oneself. In that context, God and the psyche are constantly expanding– unutterable, and always becoming.


We will question, most likely, “Becoming what?” for to us it usually seems that all motion tends toward a stat of completion of one kind or another. We think, therefore, in terms of becoming perfect, or becoming free. The word “becoming” by itself seems to leave us up in the air, so to speak, suspended without definitions. If I say: “You are becoming what you already are,” then my remark sounds meaningless, for if you already are, how can you become what is already accomplished? In larger terms, however, what we are is always vaster than our knowledge of oneself, for in physical life we cannot keep up with our own psychological and psychic activity.

In a way our bodies speak a biological language, but in those terms we are bilingual, to say the least. We deal with certain kinds of organizations. They can be equated with biological verbs, adjectives and nouns. These result in certain time sequences that can be compared to sentences, written and read from one side, say, to the other.


Pretend that our life’s experience is a page of a book that we write, read, and experience from top to bottom, left to right, sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph. That is the you that you know– the wold view that we understand. But other quite as legitimate “yous” may write, read, and experience the same page backwards, or read each letter downward and back up again, as we would a column of figures. Or others might mix and match the letters in entirely different fashions altogether, forming entirely different sentences. Still another, vaster you might be aware of all the different methods of experiencing that particular page, which is our life as we understand it.

We think that our own consciousness is the only logical culmination of our body’s reality. We read oneself in a certain accepted fashion. In the “entire book of life,” however, just physically speaking, there are interrelationships on adjacent levels that we do not perceive, as other portions of our own biological consciousness or biological language relate to the entire living fabric of the world. In physical terms we are alive because of substructures — psychic, spiritual, and biological — of which we have hardly any comprehension at all.


These are implied, however, in the nature of our own consciousness, which could not exist otherwise as we know it. As language gains and attains its meaning not only by what is included in it, but also by what is excluded, so our consciousness attains its stability also by exclusions.

What we are is implied in the nature of what we are not. By the same token, we are what we are because of the existence of what we are not.


We read ourselves from the top of the page to the bottom, or from what we think of as the beginning to the end. Our greater reality, however, is read in terms of intensities, so that the psyche puts us together in a different way. The psyche does not mark time. To it the intense experiences of our life exist simultaneously. In our terms they would be the psyche’s present. The psyche deals with probable events, however, so some events– perhaps some that we dreamed of but did not materialize — are quite real to the psyche. They are far more real to it than most innocuous but definite physical events, as for example yesterday morning’s breakfast.

God and psyche

The inner events of the psyche compose the greater experience from which physical events arrive. They cast an aura that almost magically make our life our own. Even as two people encountered precisely the same events in their lives at precisely the same time, their experiences of reality would still hardly be approximately connected.

Awake While Asleep

Suggest that instead as we falling to asleep, we will come into another kind of wakefulness. Try to imagine that you are awake when you sleep. On other occasions when we go to bed, lie down and settle yourself, but as you fall asleep imagine that you are awakening the next morning. I will not tell you what to look for. The doing of this exercise is important– not the results in usual terms.


There are different kinds of knowledge; so will this exercise bring us in contact with knowledge in another way. Done over a period of time, they will open up alternate modes of perception, so that we can view our experience from more than one standpoint. This means that our experience will itself change in quality. Sometimes when you are awake, and it is convenient, imagine that your present experience of the moment is a dream, and is highly symbolic. Then try to interpret it as such.


Who are the people? What do they represent? If that experience were a dream, what would it mean? And into what kind of waking life would you rise in the morning?


The qualities of consciousness cannot be elucidated. This exercise will bring us in contact with other kinds of knowing, and acquaint us with different feelings of consciousness that are not familiar. Our consciousness itself will then have a different feel as the exercise is done. Certain questions that we may have asked may be answered in such a state, but not in ways that we can anticipate, nor can we necessarily translate the answers into known terms. The different modes of consciousness with which I hope to acquaint you are not alien, however. They are quite native, again, in dream states, and are always present as alternatives beneath usual awareness.


Long sound

The moment point, the present, is the point of intersection between all existences and reality. All probabilities flow through it, though one of our moments may be experienced as centuries, or as a breath, in other probable realities of which we are part. There are systems in which a moment, from our standpoint, is made to endure for the life of a universe.
These are “side pools” of consciousness.
All consciousness has as-pects that are act-i-va-ted and ex-pressed in all idi-oms or real-i-ties.

As long as we think in terms off [subatomic] particles, and WAVES we are basically of track .

The idea of interrelated fields comes closer, of course, yet even here we are simply changing one kind of term for one like it, only slightly different. In all of these cases we are ignoring the reality of consciousness, and its gestalt formation and materialization. Until we perceive the innate consciousness behind any ‘visible’ or ‘invisible’ manifestations, then, we put a definite barrier to our own knowledge.

There is now real different between the concepts of fields and wave/particles.