You might know Fluffy from previous videos, or from my first book, Alchemy. Years ago, he interrupted me in the middle of my suffering, dramatically teaching me the difference between the story (or movie in the mind), and reality–and how to wake up out of it.
A spiritual crisis is when someone’s identity, purposes, values, attitudes, goals, or beliefs, are drastically challenged, often by unforeseen events. This results in upheaval and a dramatic change in focus in their lives. It may or may not involve a mystical spiritual experience, and it may or may not trigger a mystical spiritual experience.
QUESTION: “Why is your awakening realisation not shared by everyone, if such awakening reveals a perfect Oneness?”
It’s a Question of Life and Death
The real reason why I urge people to seek joy…
Recently someone unsubscribed from my newsletter, politely and usefully leaving the comment that they are “beyond” what I offer. It made me wonder, did they know what is truly available and offered?
Is Alchemy really only about a warm fuzzy feeling? No.
There is a purpose with far more value beyond that mere band aid.
The Alchemy of Death
“Cindy! The phone’s for you,” my friends called. This was unusual. I was in college and had just turned nineteen. I did not often get calls up there, in New Liskeard, 160 km north of North Bay. On the other end an unrecognized voice said words I will never forget: “Hello, this is your long lost Father.”
In some kind of limbo, I thought of my Dad and, partly stunned, I said, “My Father’s not lost.” Reaching around in my memory, thinking about my Dad at home who raised me and how this was not his voice, I remembered what was not high in my consciousness; that I had another “Dad”. My blood father.
It was quite something to …
–My Father wrote this famous poem
It appeared far and wide on posters, bookmarks, etc. as “author unknown.”
In memory of Lawrence J. Wilcox (1940-2010)
It became so popular so fast, that there was no way of correcting this, and truly, Dad was elated just knowing it was helping so many people. With his passing, it is time to let it be known that he wrote it. I actually read this poem before I was re-united with Dad (at age 19), after which time we became very close. He had submitted the poem to a publisher, who never responded, but later used it. From that he learned and shared with me a clever way to protect your work: mail yourself a copy …
True Infinite Love
A gift arose with the early morning sun on my stroll today.
I had been contemplating the massive changes in my life and my experience of life since last April (when I discovered the joy we all are), when a big picture understanding struck me.
In Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP) it is known that we hold values that drive our attention, intention, behaviour, and beliefs. Beliefs cluster around values, and while we can loosen, erode, and replace beliefs one by one, it is a tedious and slow process because there can be many of them, and also perhaps because they are important to supporting the more important, larger value they are linked to, and so we cling to them. A …
Today is the seven-year anniversary of my Father’s rebirth into spirit. Notice how much less a “charge” there is, how much less suffering there is, how much more truth and presence there is in the statement of the anniversary. Today is not the day that Dad died. That day was a long time ago, and that day, that experience, has nothing to do with this day, this experience. This day is not that day, and we do not have to try to “reincarnate” that day now.
If I had not been reminded, it would not have been top in my consciousness and may have passed unobserved. That is not a suppression or avoidance of any kind. It is a simply a …
In memory of Dawn
On New Year’s eve day I called a friend I had not seen in a few months, and learned she was in hospital, dealing with 4th stage cancer. Fourth stage means that the cancer has moved elsewhere, beyond it’s origin. Her liver was the largest problem; it was not doing a good job purifying the blood of toxins. The day I arrived she had enough energy to occasionally sit-up on her own , smile, and hug. But the disease had progressed fast. At 46 she looked 80, her skin was jaundiced and drooping.
New Year’s eve dinner was a salad in the hospital, sitting near her, and it was one of the greatest gifts of the year. …
Funeral Rites, and Rights
As I approached the church, there was love and peace was flowing from heart, along with connection and good thoughts of my friend. Very quickly however, thoughts like “Maybe I should not be smiling so much here,” arose, and I began to contain it, and began to slip-out of the Now. Old mind began to arise as the casket was wheeled in. It was definitely a familiar feeling dredged-up from past sufferings at funerals.
Yet the watching consciousness knew this was an old habit, and began to bring me back into the present, until I saw her son, and the old mind, which had been given some space to exist said “He must have had a hard time …
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